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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7493d0 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55114 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55114) diff --git a/old/55114-0.txt b/old/55114-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index b627d6f..0000000 --- a/old/55114-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7412 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Teresa of Watling Street, by Arnold Bennett - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Teresa of Watling Street - A Fantasia on Modern Themes - -Author: Arnold Bennett - -Illustrator: Frank Gillett - -Release Date: July 15, 2017 [EBook #55114] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERESA OF WATLING STREET *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - - - -TERESA OF WATLING STREET - -A Fantasia On Modern Themes - -By Arnold Bennett - -With Eight Illustrations By Frank Gillett - -London: Chatto & Windum - -1904 - - -[Illustration: 0013] - - -[Illustration: 0016] - - - - -TERESA OF WATLING STREET - - - - -CHAPTER I--THE BANK - -Since money is the fount of all modern romantic adventure, the City of -London, which holds more money to the square yard than any other place -in the world, is the most romantic of cities. This is a profound truth, -but people will not recognise it. There is no more prosaic person than -your bank clerk, who ladles out romance from nine to four with a copper -trowel without knowing it. There is no more prosaic building than your -stone-faced banking office, which hums with romance all day, and never -guesses what a palace of wonders it is. The truth, however, remains; -and some time in the future it will be universally admitted. And if the -City, as a whole, is romantic, its banks are doubly and trebly romantic. -Nothing is more marvellous than the rapid growth of our banking system, -which is twice as great now as it was twenty years ago--and it was great -enough then. - -Such were the reflections of a young man who, on a June morning, stood -motionless on the busy pavement opposite the headquarters of the British -and Scottish Banking Company, Limited, in King William Street, City. -He was a man of medium size, fair, thick-set, well-dressed, and wearing -gold-rimmed spectacles. The casual observer might have taken him for a -superior sort of clerk, but the perfect style of his boots, his gloves, -and his hat precluded such a possibility; it is in the second-rate -finish of his extremities that the superior clerk, often gorgeous in a -new frock-coat, betrays himself. This particular young man, the tenor of -whose thoughts showed that he possessed imagination--the rarest of all -qualities except honesty--had once been a clerk, but he was a clerk no -longer. - -He looked at his watch; it showed three minutes to twelve o’clock. He -waited another minute, and then crossed through the traffic and entered -the sober and forbidding portals of the bank. He had never before -been inside a City bank, and the animated scene, to which many glass -partitions gave an air of mystery, would have bewildered him had he not -long since formed the immutable habit of never allowing himself to be -bewildered. Ignoring all the bustle which centred round the various cash -desks lettered A to F, G to M, and so on, he turned unhesitatingly to an -official who stood behind a little solitary counter. - -‘Sir?’ said the official blandly; it was his sole duty to be bland (and -firm) to customers and possible customers of an inquiring turn of mind. - -‘I have an appointment with Mr. Simon Lock,’ said the young man. - -The official intensified his blandness at the mention of the august name -of the chairman of the British and Scottish Banking Company, Limited. - -‘Mr. Lock is engaged with the Board,’ he said. - -‘I have an appointment with the Board,’ said the young man. ‘My card;’ -and he produced the pasteboard of civilization. - -The official read: - -Mr. Richard Redgrave, M.A., - -Specialist. - -‘In that case,’ said the official, now a miracle of blandness, ‘be good -enough to step this way.’ Mr. Richard Redgrave stepped that way, and -presently found himself in front of a mahogany door, on which was -painted the legend, ‘Directors’ Parlour’--not ‘Board Room,’ but -‘Directors’ Parlour.’ The British and Scottish was not an ancient -corporation with a century or two of traditions; it was merely a -joint-stock company some thirty years of age. But it had prospered -exceedingly, and the directors, especially Mr. Simon Lock, liked to seem -quaint and old-fashioned in trifles. Such harmless affectations helped -to impress customers and to increase business. The official knocked, -and entered the parlour with as much solemnity as though he had been -entering a mosque or the tomb of Napoleon. Fifty millions of deposits -were manoeuvred from day to day in that parlour, and the careers of -eight hundred clerks depended on words spoken therein. Then Mr. Richard -Redgrave was invited to enter. His foot sank into the deep pile of a -Persian carpet. The official closed the door. The specialist was alone -with three of the directors of the British and Scottish Bank. - -‘Please take a seat, Redgrave,’ said Lord Dolmer, the only one of the -trio with whom Richard was personally acquainted, and to whom he owed -this introduction. ‘We shall not keep you waiting more than a minute or -two.’ - -The other directors did not look up. All three were rapidly signing -papers. - -Richard occupied a chair upholstered in red leather, next the door, -and surveyed the room. It was a large and lofty apartment, simply but -massively furnished in mahogany. A table of superb solidity and vast -acreage filled the middle space--such a table as only a bank director -could comfortably sit at. As Richard gazed at that article of furniture -and listened to the busy scratching of pens, he saw, with the prophetic -vision characteristic of all men who are born to success, that a crisis -in his life was at hand. He had steadily risen throughout his brief -life, but he had never before risen so high as a bank parlour, and the -parlour of such a bank! His history, though a short one, was curious. -He came to London from Westmoreland at the age of nineteen as a clerk in -the Customs. From the first he regarded his clerkship merely as a -means to an end; what end he had yet to ascertain. He paid particular -attention to his clothes, joined a large political club, and kept -his eyes open. His personal stock-in-trade consisted of a rather -distinguished appearance, a quiet, deliberate, and confident voice and -manner, an imperturbable good temper which nothing could affect, and a -firm belief that he could do anything a little better than the average -doer of that thing. He desired a University degree, and by working at -night for four years obtained the M.A. of London. He practised a little -journalism of the sensational kind, and did fairly well at that, but -abandoned it because the profits were not large enough. One Sunday he -was cycling down the Portsmouth Road, and had reached an hotel between -twenty and thirty miles from London, when he met with his first real -chance. A motor-tricycle had unaccountably disappeared from the hotel -during luncheon. The landlord and the owner of the tricycle were arguing -as to the former’s liability. Redgrave listened discreetly, and then -went to examine the barnlike coach-house from which the motor-tricycle -had been spirited away. Soon the owner, who had instructed the police -and bullied the landlord, and was now forced to kick his angry heels -till the departure of the afternoon train back to London, joined him in -the coach-house. The two began to talk. - -‘You are Lord Dolmer,’ said Redgrave at length. - -‘How do you know that?’ asked the other quickly. - -He was a black-haired man of forty, simply dressed, and of quiet -demeanour, save of unusual excitement. - -‘I have seen you at the Constitutional Club, of which I am a member. -Did you know that a motor-tricycle disappeared from this same hotel a -fortnight ago?’ - -Lord Dolmer was impressed by the youth’s manner. - -‘No,’ he said; ‘is that really so?’ - -‘Yes,’ said Redgrave, ‘only a fortnight ago. Strange coincidence, isn’t -it?’ - -‘Who are you? You seem to know something,’ said Lord Dolmer. - -Redgrave gave his name, and added: - -‘I am an officer in the Customs.’ - -That sounded well. - -‘I fancy I could trace your tricycle, if you gave me time,’ he said. - -‘I will give you not only time, but money,’ the peer replied. - -‘We will talk about that later,’ said Redgrave. - -Until that hour Richard had no thought of assuming the rôle of detective -or private inquiry agent; but he saw no reason why he should not assume -such a rôle, and with success. He calmly determined to trace the missing -tricycle. By a stroke of what is called luck, he found it before Lord -Dolmer’s train left. Over half of the coach-house was a loft in the -roof. Richard chanced to see a set of pulleys in the rafters. He -climbed up; the motor-tricycle was concealed in the loft. The landlord, -confronted with it, said that of course some mischievous loiterers must -have hoisted it into the loft as a practical joke. The explanation was -an obvious one, and Lord Dolmer was obliged to accept it. But both he -and Redgrave had the gravest suspicions of the landlord, and it may be -mentioned here that the latter is now in prison, though not for any sin -connected with Lord Dolmer’s tricycle. - -‘What do I owe you? Name your own sum,’ said Lord Dolmer to Redgrave. - -‘Nothing at all,’ Redgrave answered. - -He had come to a resolution on the instant. - -‘Give me some introductions to your friends. - -It is the ambition of my life to conduct important private inquiries, -and you must know plenty of people who stand in need of such a man as -I.’ - -Lord Dolmer was poor--for a lord--and eked out a bare competence by -being a guinea-pig in the City, a perfectly respectable and industrious -guinea-pig. He agreed to Redgrave’s suggestion, asked him to dinner at -his chambers in Half Moon Street, and became, in fact, friendly with -the imperturbable and resourceful young man. Redgrave obtained several -delicate commissions, and the result was such that in six months he -abandoned his post in the Customs, and rented a small office in Adelphi -Terrace. His acquaintance with Lord Dolmer continued, and when Lord -Dolmer, after a lucky day on the Exchange, bought a 5-h.p. motor-car, -these two went about the country together. Redgrave was soon able to -manage a motor-car like an expert, and foreseeing that motor-cars -would certainly acquire a high importance in the world, he cultivated -relations with the firm of manufacturers from whom Lord Dolman had -purchased his car. Then came a spell of ill-luck. The demand for a -private inquiry agent of exceptional ability (a ‘specialist,’ as Richard -described himself) seemed to die out. Richard had nothing to do, and was -on the point of turning his wits in another direction, when he received -a note from Lord Dolmer to the effect that Mr. Simon Lock and the -directors of the British and Scottish had some business for him if he -cared to undertake it. - -Hence his advent in King William Street. - -‘Let me introduce you,’ said Lord Dolmer, beckoning Redgrave from his -chair near the door, ‘to our chairman, Mr. Simon Lock, whose name is -doubtless familiar to you, and to my co-director, Sir Charles Custer.’ - -Redgrave bowed, and the two financiers nodded. - -‘Take that chair, Mr. Redgrave,’ said Simon Lock, indicating a fourth -chair at the table. - -Simon Lock, a middle-aged man with gray hair, glinting gray eyes, a -short moustache, and no beard, was one of the kings of finance. He had -the monarchical manner, modified by an occasional gruff pleasantry. The -British and Scottish was only one of various undertakings in which he -was interested; he was, for example, at the head of a powerful group of -Westralian mining companies, but here, as in all the others, he was the -undisputed master. When he spoke Lord Dolmer and Sir Charles Custer held -their tongues. - -‘We have sent for you on Lord Dolmer’s recommendation--a very hearty -recommendation, I may say,’ Simon Lock began. ‘He tells us that you have -a particular partiality for motor-car cases’--Richard returned Simon -Lock’s faint smile--‘and so you ought to be specially useful to us in -our dilemma. I will explain the circumstance as simply as possible. Will -you make notes?’ - -‘I never write down these details,’ said Richard. ‘It is safer not to. -My memory is quite reliable.’ - -Simon Lock nodded twice quickly and resumed: - -‘We have a branch at Kilburn, in the High Street, under the managership -of Mr. Raphael Craig. Mr. Craig has been in our service for about twenty -years. His age is fifty-five. He is a widower with one daughter. He came -to us from an Irish bank. Professionally, we have no fault to find with -him; but for many years past he has chosen to live thirty-five miles -from London, at a farmhouse between the town of Dunstable and the -village of Hockliffe, in Bedfordshire. Dunstable, you may be aware, is -on the old Roman road, Watling Street, which runs to Chester. He used -to go up to Bedfordshire only at weekends, but of late years he has -travelled between his country home and London several times a week, -often daily. He owns two or three motor-cars, and has once been summoned -and convicted for furious driving. It is said that he can come to London -by road from Dunstable in sixty minutes. When he stays in London he -sleeps over the bank premises in the suite of rooms which we provide for -him, as for all our managers.’ - -‘You say you have no fault to find with Mr. Craig professionally,’ said -Richard. ‘He does not, then, in any way neglect his duties?’ - -‘The reverse. He is an admirable servant, and our Kilburn branch is -one of the most lucrative of all our branches. Mr. Craig has built up a -wonderfully good business for us in that suburb. Let me continue. Last -year but one a relative of Mr. Craig’s, an uncle or something of that -sort, reputed to be crazy, died and left him a hundred thousand pounds, -chiefly, one heard, in new silver coins, which the old miser had had -a mania for collecting, and kept in his cellars like wine. The strange -thing is that Mr. Craig, thus made rich, did not resign his position -with us. Now, why should a man of large fortune trouble himself with the -cares of a comparatively unimportant bank managership? That aspect of -the case has struck us as somewhat suspicious.’ - -‘Highly suspicious,’ murmured Sir Charles Custer, M.P., out of his -beard. - -‘You naturally--shall I say?--resent eccentricity in any member of your -staff?’ said Richard sagaciously. - -‘We do, Mr. Redgrave. In a bank, eccentricity is not wanted. -Further--another strange fact--a month ago the cashier of our Kilburn -branch, a mediocre but worthy servant named Featherstone, a man of -fifty, whose brains were insufficient to lift him beyond a cashiership, -and who, outside our bank, had no chance whatever of getting a -livelihood in this hard world, suddenly resigned. He would give no -reason for his resignation, nor could Mr. Craig give us any reason for -it. In the following week Featherstone committed suicide. No doubt you -saw the affair in the papers. The man’s books were perfectly straight. -He was a bachelor, and had no ties that the police could discover. Such -is the brief outline of the case. Have you any questions to ask?’ - -Redgrave paused. When, from ignorance or any other cause, he had nothing -to say, he contrived to produce an excellent effect by remaining silent -and peering through his gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘Only one,’ he said. -‘What do you want to know?’ - -‘We don’t know what we want to know,’ said Simon Lock abruptly. ‘We -want to know anything and everything. Our suspicions are too vague to be -formulated, but, as directors of a great financial undertaking, we are -bound to practise precautions. We do not desire to dismiss Mr. Craig -without a reason. Such a course would be unfair--and unprofitable.’ - -‘May I define your position thus?’ said Redgrave. ‘You do not -precisely fear, but you perceive the possibility of, some scandal, some -revelations, which might harm the general reputation of the bank. And -therefore you wish to know, first, why Mr. Craig runs about Watling -Street so much on a motor-car; second, why, being possessed of a hundred -thousand pounds, he still cares to work for _you_; and third, why this -Featherstone killed himself.’ - -‘Just so,’ said Simon Lock, pleased. - -‘Just so,’ echoed Sir Charles Custer. - -Lord Dolmer gave his protégé a smile of satisfaction. - -‘I will undertake to assuage your curiosity on these points,’ Redgrave -said, with that air of serene confidence which came so naturally to him. - -‘And your fee?’ asked Simon Lock. - -‘If I fail, nothing. If I succeed I shall present my bill in due -course.’ - -‘When shall we hear from you?’ - -‘In not less than a month.’ - -That evening Richard strolled up the Edgware Road to Kilburn, and -looked at the exterior of the Kilburn branch of the British and -Scottish. It presented no feature in the least extraordinary. Richard -was less interested in the bank than in the road, the magnificent artery -which stretches, almost in a straight line, from the Marble Arch to -Chester. Truly the Roman builders of that road had a glorious disregard -of everything save direction. Up hill and down dale the mighty Watling -Street travels, but it never deviates. After sixty years of disuse, it -had resumed its old position as a great highway through the magnificence -of England. The cyclist and the motorist had rediscovered it, -rejuvenating its venerable inns, raising its venerable dust, and -generally giving new vitality to the leviathan after its long sleep. - -To Richard Redgrave it seemed the avenue of adventure and of success. -His imagination devoured the miles between Kilburn and Dunstable, and he -saw the solitary farmhouse of Raphael Craig, bank manager, motorist, and -inheritor of a hundred thousand pounds in virgin silver coin. - - - - -CHAPTER II--THE CIRCUS - -A week later--and in the meantime he had been far from idle--Richard -Redgrave arrived in Dunstable. It was a warm, sunshiny, sleepy day, such -as suited that sleepy town, and showed off its fine old church and -fine old houses to perfection. There is no theatre in Dunstable, -no concert-hall, and nothing ever excites this staid borough save a -Parliamentary election or the biennial visit of Bosco’s Circus. - -On the morning of Richard’s arrival Dunstable was certainly excited, and -the occasion was Bosco, who, with his horses, camels, elephants, lions, -bears, acrobats, riders, trapezists, and pavilions, had encamped in -a large field to the south of the town. Along the whole of its length -Dunstable, which consists chiefly of houses built on either side of -Watling Street for a distance of about a mile and a half, was happily -perturbed by the appearance of Bosco’s gigantic, unrivalled, and -indescribable circus, which was announced to give two performances, at -two-thirty and at seven-thirty of the clock. And, after all, a circus -which travels with two hundred horses (chiefly piebald and cream), and -with a single tent capable of holding four thousand people, is perhaps -worthy to cause excitement. - -Richard determined to patronize Mr. Bosco’s entertainment--he thought he -might pick up useful information in the crowd--and at two-thirty he -paid his shilling and passed up the gorgeous but rickety steps into the -pavilion. - -A brass band was playing at its full power, but above the noise of the -trumpets could be heard the voice of the showman--not Bosco himself, -but an individual hired for his big voice--saying, ‘Step up, ladies and -gentlemen. Today happens to be the thirtieth anniversary of our first -visit to this town, and to celebrate the event we shall present to you -exactly the same performance as we had the honour of presenting, by -special command, to Her Majesty the Queen at Windsor last year. Step up, -step up, and see our great spectacle, the Relief of Mafeking! See the -talking horse! See Juana, the most beautiful rider in the world! Step -up! - -Children half-price to morning performance only.’ The big voice made -precisely this speech every day of his life all over England. - -The circus was well filled, and the audience enthusiastic. The clowns -had an enormous success. As for Richard, he was more interested in -Juana, the horsewoman. She was a tall and beautiful girl, apparently -of the Spanish type. She rode, in a strictly conventional park riding -costume, a superb strawberry-roan mare, which at her command waltzed, -circled, caracoled, and did everything except stand on its head. Mare -and rider were equally graceful, equally calm and self-contained. It -was a charming item in the programme, but somewhat over the heads of -the audience, save a few who knew a born rider when they saw one. An -elephant was brought in, a young man in Indian costume being perched on -its neck. The mare and the elephant went through a number of evolutions -together. Finally the mare reared and lodged her forepaws on the -elephant’s tremendous flank, and so situated the strange pair made an -exit which roused the house from apathy to wild enthusiasm. Juana was -vociferously recalled. She re-entered on foot, holding her habit up with -one hand, a light whip in the other. Richard could not help being struck -by the rather cold, sad, disdainful beauty of the girl’s face. It seemed -wrong that the possessor of such a face should have to go through a -series of tricks twice daily for the diversion of a rustic audience. - -‘That wench is as like Craig’s girl as two peas.’ Richard turned quickly -at the remark, which was made by one of two women who sat behind him -industriously talking. The other agreed that there was some likeness -between ‘Craig’s girl’ and the lovely Juana, but not a very remarkable -one. - -Richard left his seat, went out of the pavilion, and walked round the -outside of it towards the part where the performers entered the ring. -Attached to the pavilion by a covered way was a smaller tent, which was -evidently used as a sort of green-room by the performers. Richard could -see within, and it happened that he saw Juana chatting with a girl who -was very much like Juana, though rather less stately. The young man in -Indian costume, who had ridden the elephant, was also of the group. -Soon the young man went to another corner of the tent, and the two girls -began to talk more rapidly and more earnestly. Lastly, they shook hands -and kissed, Juana burst into tears, and her companion ran out of the -tent. Richard followed her at a safe distance through the maze of -minor tents, vans, poles, and loose horses, to the main road. A small, -exquisitely-finished motor-car stood by the footpath; the girl jumped -on board, pulled a lever, and was off in a northerly direction through -Dunstable up Watling Street. - -‘Is that the road to Hockliffe?’ he asked a policeman. - -‘Yes, sir.’ - -‘It’s Raphael Craig’s daughter, I bet,’ he said to himself, and for some -reason or other smiled a satisfied smile. Then he added, half aloud, -‘But who is Juana?’ - -He went back to see the rest of the performance, and he had scarcely -sat down before he had cause to wish that he had remained outside. The -famous strawberry-roan mare, formerly ridden by Juana, was making a -second appearance as the talking horse, in charge of the young man -who had shone before in Indian costume, but who now wore the dress of a -riding-master. An attendant was walking along the front benches with -a bundle of numbered cards. He offered one to Richard, and Richard -thoughtlessly accepted the offer. From that moment the eyes of the -entire assemblage were upon him. - -‘The gentleman,’ said the young man in charge of the mare, ‘has chosen -a card. Now, this wonderful animal will tell you the number of the card, -and a lot of other interesting information. I shall put questions to the -animal, which will answer “Yes” by nodding its head, and “No” by shaking -its head, and will count by stamping its off fore-foot on the ground.’ - -Richard was disgusted at being thus made the centre of a trick, but -there was no help for it. - -‘What is the number of the card drawn by the gentleman?’ the young man -demanded of the mare. - -She stamped her foot ten times on the tan. - -‘Number ten,’ said the young man. ‘Is that so, sir?’ - -It was so. Richard nodded. Loud applause. - -‘Is the holder of the card a married man?’ - -The mare shook her head. Laughter. - -‘He is a bachelor?’ - -The mare lowered her head. More laughter. - -‘Will he ever be married?’ - -The mare lowered her head again. Loud laughter. - -‘Soon?’ - -Again the mare signed an affirmative. Shrieks of laughter. - -‘To a pretty girl?’ - -The mare nodded decisively. - -‘Will they be blessed with many children?’ - -The mare kicked out with her hindlegs, and ran as if horror-struck from -the ring, amid roars of rustic delight. This simple trick and joke, -practised for years and years with all kinds of horses, had helped as -much as anything to make the fortune of Bosco’s circus. It never failed -of its effect. - -The final ‘turn’ of the show was the Relief of Mafeking. Under cover of -the noise and smoke of gunpowder, Richard contrived to make a stealthy -exit; he was still blushing. As he departed he caught a last glimpse of -Juana, who came into the ring in the character of a Red Cross nurse on -the field of battle. - -That evening at midnight Richard issued forth from the Old Sugar Loaf -Hotel on a motor-car. Bosco’s circus was already leaving the town, and -as the straggling procession of animals and vehicles wandered up -Watling Street under the summer moon it made a weird and yet attractive -spectacle--such a spectacle as can be seen only on the high-roads -of England. Its next halting-place was eighteen miles north--a long -journey. The cavalcade was a hindrance to Richard, for he particularly -desired to have Watling Street between Dunstable and Hockliffe to -himself that night. He waited, therefore, until the whole of Bosco had -vanished ahead out of sight. The elephants, four in number, brought up -the rear of the procession, and they were under control of the young man -whose trick with the strawberry-roan mare had put Richard to the blush. -There was no sign of the mare nor of Juana. - -Watling Street runs through a deep chalk-cutting immediately to the north -of Dunstable, and then along an embankment. This region at the foot of -the Chiltern Hills is famous for its chalk, which is got from immense -broad pits to the west of the high-road. As Richard’s car ran through -the cutting--it was electrical, odourless, and almost noiseless--he -perceived in front of him the elephant herd standing in the road. A -little further on he descried the elephant-keeper, who was engaged in -converse with a girl. Leaving his motor-car to take care of itself, -Richard climbed transversely up the side of the cutting, and thus -approached nearer to the pair. He saw now, in the brilliant white -radiance of the moon, that the girl was the same girl who had kissed -Juana in the circus tent. She was apparently urging the man to some -course of action at which he hesitated. Then the elephant-keeper called -aloud to his elephants, and the man and the girl, followed by the -elephants, and followed also by Richard, passed through an open gate -at the northern end of the cutting, and so crossed a very large -uncultivated field. The extremity of the field descended steeply into a -huge chalk-pit, perhaps a hundred yards in circumference and sixty feet -deep, by means of a rough cart-track. At the end of the cart-track, -in the bottom of the pit, was a motorcar. Richard watched the -elephant-keeper single out one of the elephants and attach it by ropes -to the motor-car. Slowly the ponderous and docile creature dragged the -vehicle up the steep cart-track. The girl clapped her hands with joy. - -‘If she is Craig’s daughter----’ Richard exclaimed softly, and then -stopped. - -Silhouetted sharply against the night-sky was the figure of Juana on -the strawberry-roan. Mare and rider stood motionless at the top of the -cart-track, and Richard, from his place of concealment, could see that -Juana was gazing fixedly into the chalk-pit The man with the elephants -and the girl with the motor-car had not perceived her, and before -they could do so she had ridden off down the field. It was a wonderful -apparition, a wonderful scene--the moon, the vast hemisphere of the -purple sky, the glittering and immense whiteness of the chalk-pit, -the exotic forms of the elephants contrasted with the motor-car, and, -lastly, the commanding and statuesque equestrian on the brow. Richard -was quite impressed by the mere beauty and strangeness, as well as by -the mystery, of it all. What did it mean? Why should Juana, an expert -who would certainly receive a generous salary, be riding at one o’clock -a.m., seeing that the principal performers, as Richard knew, usually -travelled by train from one town to the next? And why should she have -followed these other two--the elephant-keeper and the young girl who -so remarkably resembled herself? And having followed them and observed -their movements, why should she silently depart, without making known -her presence? He had been able to examine Juana’s face in the strong -moonlight, and again he was moved by its sad, calm, cold dignity. Juana -seemed as though, at the age of twenty-five or so--she could not be -more--she had suffered all the seventy and seven different sorrows which -this world is said to contain, and had emerged from them resolute and -still lovely, but with a withered heart. Her face almost frightened -Richard. - -With infinite deliberation the elephants and the motor-car arrived at -the top of the cart-track. The three elephants not engaged in hauling -appeared to have formed a prejudice against the motor-car; the fourth, -the worker, who had been used to dragging logs of teak in India, -accepted his rôle with indifference. He pulled nonchalantly, as if he -was pulling a child’s go-cart, thus, happily, leaving the keeper free -to control the other beasts. At length the cortège--it had all the -solemnity of a funeral pageant--passed safely into the field and out -of Richard’s sight towards the highroad. He heard the spit, spit of the -petrol-engine of the motor-car, now able to move of itself on the easy -gradient, and simultaneously a startling snort and roar from one of the -elephants. It occurred to him to hope that the leviathan had not taken -it into his gigantic head to wreck the machine. The notion was amusing, -and he laughed when he thought how frail a thing a motor-car would prove -before the attack of an elephant’s trunk. Then he proceeded duly towards -the road, hugging the hedge. Once more he heard the snort and the roar, -and then a stern cry of command from the keeper, a little scream from -the girl, and an angry squeak from the elephant. The spit, spit of the -motor-car at the same moment ceased. - -When, after some minutes of scouting, he reached the gate and had a view -of the road, he rather expected to see the motor-car lying in fragments -in Watling Street, with, possibly, a couple of mangled corpses in -the near neighbourhood, and a self-satisfied elephant dominating the -picture. But his horrid premonitions were falsified.. The keeper had -clearly proved the superiority of man over the brute creation; he -was astride the neck of the obstreperous elephant, and the herd were -trampling, with their soft, flabby footfalls, down Watling Street, along -the sloping embankment, into the deep, broad valley which separates -Dunstable from the belt of villages to the north of it. The lady with -the motor-car stood quiescent in the road. She had got safely out of -her chalk-pit, and was now waiting for the elephants to disappear before -proceeding on her journey. Richard hesitated whether to return and -examine the chalk-pit or to keep in touch with the lady. What any -creature--especially a woman, and a young woman--could be doing with a -motor-car in a chalk-pit in the middle of the night passed his wit to -conceive. Nor could he imagine how any sane driver of a motor-car could -take his car down such a steep slope as that cart-track with the least -hope of getting it up again without the assistance of an elephant, or -at least a team of horses. She must surely have been urged by the very -strongest reasons to descend into the pit. What were those reasons? He -wanted badly to examine the chalk-pit at once, but he decided ultimately -that it would be better to watch the lady--‘Craig’s girl.’ The chalk-pit -would always remain where it was, whereas the lady, undoubtedly an -erratic individuality, might be at the other end of the world by -breakfast-time. He crept back to his own car, found it unharmed in the -deep shadow where he had left it, and mounted. - -By this time the elephant herd had accomplished a good quarter of a mile -down the gradual declivity of the embankment. ‘Craig’s girl’ started -her car and followed gently. It seemed, in the profound silence of the -night, that the spit, spit of her engine must be heard for miles and -miles around. Richard started his own car, and rolled noiselessly in the -traces of his forerunner. The surface of the road was perfect--for the -Bedfordshire County Council takes a proper pride in its share of this -national thoroughfare--and the vehicles moved with admirable ease, -Richard’s being about a couple of hundred yards in the rear. Just at -the top of the embankment is a tiny village, appropriately called Chalk -Hill, and this village possesses a post pillar-box, a Wesleyan chapel of -the size of a cottage, and an inn--the Green Man. As Richard swung past -the Green Man a head popped out of one of its windows. - -‘Anything wrong?’ asked a man. - -‘No,’ said Richard, stopping his car and lowering his voice to a -whisper, lest the girl in front should hear and turn round. ‘Go back to -bed,’ he added. - -‘Go to bed yourself,’ the man said, apparently angry at this injunction. -‘You circus-folk, you’ve got motor-cars now; as if camels and alligators -wasn’t enough, you’ve got motorcars a-grunting and a-rattling. Three -blessed hours you’ve been a-passing this house, and my wife down with -erysipelas.’ - -Grumbling, the man closed the window. Richard laughed at being -identified with the retinue of Bosco’s circus. He felt that it was an -honour, for in the eyes of the village these circus-folk move always in -an atmosphere of glory and splendour and freedom. - -He passed on. The girl in front was gradually overtaking the elephants, -which were scattered across the width of the road. Suddenly one of -them turned--the one ridden by the keeper--and charged furiously back, -followed more slowly by the others. Evidently the sound of the spit, -spit of the motor-car had renewed the animal’s anger. Perhaps it -thought: ‘I will end this spit, spit once for all.’ Whatever the brute’s -thoughts, the keeper could not dissuade it from its intentions, though -Richard could see him prodding it behind the ear with a goad. The -girl, ‘Craig’s girl,’ perceived the danger which she ran, and, after a -moment’s vacillation, began to wheel round, with the object of flying -before this terrible elephantine wrath. But that moment’s vacillation -was her undoing. Ere she could get the machine headed straight in -the opposite direction the elephant was upon her and her car. Richard -trembled with apprehension, for the situation was in truth appalling. -With a single effort the elephant might easily have pitched both girl -and car down the steep side of the embankment, which was protected only -by a thin iron rail. Richard stopped his own car and waited. He could do -nothing whatever, and he judged that the presence of himself and another -car in the dreadful altercation might lead even to further disasters. - -[Illustration: 0053] - -The elephant stood over the car, waving his trunk, seemingly undecided -how to go about his work of destruction; the keeper on his neck called -and coaxed in vain. The girl... Richard could see only the girl’s back; -he was thankful that he could not see her face. The other elephants -waited in a semicircle behind. Then, after an interval that was like -a hundred years, the leading elephant seized the steering-wheel of the -motor-car, and, twisting it off the rod as though it had been made of -putty, flung it into the road. That action seemed to appease the brute. -He turned quietly away and slouched off; his keeper had now ceased to -prod him. The other elephants followed meekly enough. The girl on the -motor-car did not stir. The peril was past, but Richard found his -foot trembling against the foot-brake of his car--such had been his -agitation. - -The elephant herd was five hundred yards away before the girl gave the -slightest sign of life. Then she slowly dismounted, and waved a hand to -the keeper, who had also dismounted from the elephant’s neck--a wave of -the hand that was evidently intended to convey an assurance that she was -unharmed and able to take care of herself. The keeper gave an answering -signal, and--wisely, as Richard thought--continued his way up the -opposite hill. - -Richard pulled over the starting-lever of his car and leisurely -approached the girl. She had already seen him, since her own car was -more than half turned round, and therefore there could be no object -in his attempting any further concealment. He drew up by her side and -raised his peaked cap. - -‘That was a nasty position for you to be in,’ he said, with genuine -sympathy. - -‘Oh, those elephants!’ she began gaily; ‘their trunks are so thick and -hairy, you’ve no idea----’ - -Then she stopped, and, without the least warning, burst into tears. -It was a very natural reaction, and no one could wonder at such an -exhibition. Nevertheless, Richard felt excessively awkward; excessively -at a loss what to do under the circumstances. He could scarcely take her -in his arms and soothe her like a child; yet that was just the thing he -wished to do. - -‘Come, come,’ he said, and his spectacles gleamed paternally at her in -the moonlight; ‘it is all over now.’ - -She pulled out a microscopic lace handkerchief, wiped her eyes, and -looked at him. - -‘Forgive me,’ she exclaimed; and then, smiling: ‘It shan’t occur again.’ - -‘You are a brave woman,’ he said sincerely--‘a very brave woman.’ - -‘How?’ she asked simply. ‘I did nothing.’ - -‘Most women would have fainted or screamed, and then there is no knowing -what might not have happened.’ He added, as she made no remark: ‘Can -I be of any assistance? Have you far to go? I suppose you must have -miscalculated your distances.’ - -‘Why?’ she asked, in reference to the last remark. - -‘Oh, it’s so late, that’s all.’ - -‘It is,’ she said, as though the fact had just struck her. ‘Yes, I must -have miscalculated my distances. Fortunately, I have only about a mile -more. You see the yellow house on the hill towards Hockliffe? That is my -destination.’ - -‘You are Miss Craig?’ he said inquiringly. - -‘I am. You belong, then, to these parts?’ - -‘I happen to know the name of the owner of Queen’s Farm, that is all,’ -he admitted cautiously. - -‘I am much obliged for your sympathy,’ she said. ‘I shall walk home, and -send a horse for the car to-morrow morning.’ - -‘I could tow it behind my car,’ he suggested. - -‘Pardon me, you couldn’t,’ she said flatly; ‘the steering is smashed.’ - -‘I had thought of that,’ he replied quietly, as he picked up the small -broken wheel out of the road. ‘If we tie a rope to either end of your -front axle, and join them at the rear of my car, your car would steer -itself automatically.’ - -‘So it would,’ she said; ‘you are resourceful. - -I will accept your offer.’ Then she examined his car with the rapid -glance of an expert. - -‘Well I never!’ she murmured. - -He looked a question. - -‘It is a curious coincidence,’ she explained, ‘but we have recently -ordered an electric car precisely like yours, and were expecting it to -arrive to-morrow--my father and I, I mean. Yours is one of the -Williamson Motor Company’s vehicles, is it not?’ - -Richard bowed. - -‘There is no coincidence,’ he said. ‘This car is destined for Mr. Craig. -I am bringing it up to Hockliffe. You will remember that Mr. Craig asked -that it should be sent by road in charge of a man?’ - -‘A man!’ she repeated; and, after a pause: - -‘You are, perhaps, a partner in the Williamson Company?’ - -‘Not a partner,’ he said. - -It may be explained here that the aforesaid Williamson Company had -supplied Lord Dolmer with his motor-car. Richard had visited their -office in order to ascertain if, by chance, Mr. Raphael Craig was a -customer of theirs, and had been told that he was, and, further, that -there was an electric car then on order for him. It was a matter of but -little difficulty for Richard to persuade Williamson’s manager to allow -him to pose for a few days as an employe of the company, and to take the -car up to Hockliffe himself. He foresaw that in the rôle of a motor-car -expert he might gain a footing at Craig’s house which could not be -gained in any other way. - -When the two cars had been attached, and the journey--necessarily a slow -one--began, a rather desultory conversation sprang up between Richard -and Miss Craig, who sat by his side in the leading car. - -‘You, too, must have miscalculated your distances,’ she said suddenly, -after they had discussed the remarkable beauty of the moon. - -‘No,’ he said, ‘I like travelling at night. I admit that I thought -Hockliffe considerably further on. I expected to deliver the car about -breakfast-time.’ - -‘You will permit us to offer you a bed?’ she said. ‘You will be able to -get at least five hours’ sleep. We breakfast at seven. It is early, but -that is my father’s custom.’ - -He thanked her. - -‘Take the little road on the right,’ she directed him later. ‘It leads -only to our house In Ireland we call such a road a boreen.’ - -It was then that he noted a faint Irish accent in her voice. - -Richard brought the two cars to a standstill in front of a green gate. -Leaning over the gate was an old man. - -‘Teresa!’ the old man murmured. - -She rushed at him and kissed him passionately. - - - - -CHAPTER III--CHINK OF COINS - -I am getting on excellently,’ said Richard to himself as he descended -from the car; but his self-satisfaction was momentarily checked by the -glance flashed at him by the old man--a glance which seemed to penetrate -at once to that locked chamber where Richard kept his secret intentions -and desires. - -He returned the glance modestly, and then wondered whether, after all, -Mr. Craig was as old as he looked. The manager of the Kilburn branch of -the British and Scottish Bank had white hair, rather long at the back, -and a heavy white beard; a pale face with prominent bones, the lower -jaw large and protruding, the nose fine and delicate, the black eyes -deep-set; the forehead was rather narrow, but the bossy temples gave -indication of unusual intellectual force. The face was the face of an -old man, yet the eyes were young and fresh. Richard remembered that -Simon Lock had stated the manager’s age to be fifty-five, and he came -to the conclusion that this might be a fact, though any merely casual -observer would have put it at sixty-five at least. - -‘Who is----’ Raphael Craig began questioning in tones of singular -politeness, with a gesture in the direction of Richard, after he had -returned his daughter’s salutation. - -‘This is a gentleman from the Williamson Company, dad,’ Teresa -explained. ‘He has brought the new car. He likes travelling at night, -and thought our house was much further on.’ - -Then she explained the circumstance of the elephant’s attack. - -‘Humph!’ exclaimed Raphael Craig. - -Richard affected to be occupied solely with the two motor-cars. He -judged it best to seem interested in nothing else. He blew out the -oil-lamps of the old car, and switched off the electric lights of the -new one. Teresa turned instantly to the latter, and began to turn the -light off and on. Her father, too, joined in the examination of the car, -and both father and daughter appeared to be wholly wrapped up in this -new toy. Richard had to explain all the parts. He soon perceived that -he had chanced on one of those households where time is of no account. -Teresa and Raphael Craig saw nothing extraordinary in thus dawdling -over a motor-car at one o’clock in the morning by the light of the moon. -After a thorough inspection of the machine Teresa happened to make some -remark about three-speed gears, and a discussion was launched in which -Richard had to join. A clock within the house chimed two. - -‘Suppose we have supper, dad?’ said Teresa, as if struck by a novel and -rather pleasing idea--‘suppose we have supper. The moon will soon be -setting.’ - -‘And Mr. ----’ said Raphael. - -‘Redgrave,’ said Richard. ‘Richard Redgrave.’ - -‘Will sup with us, I trust,’ said Teresa. - -‘True, there are seven inns in the village, but the village is asleep, -and a mile off. We must offer Mr. Redgrave a bed, dad.’ - -‘Humph!’ exclaimed the old man again. - -It was, perhaps, a strange sort of remark, yet from his lips it sounded -entirely correct and friendly. - -‘I am getting on excellently,’ mused Richard once more. - -‘Mike!’ the girl called. ‘Micky!’ - -A very small, alert man instantly appeared round the corner of the -garden wall, running towards them. He kept his head bent, so that -Richard could not clearly see his face. - -‘What is it ye’ll be after, Miss?’ Micky asked. - -‘Take charge of these cars. Put them in the shed. Perhaps Mr. Redgrave -will be good enough to assist you with the new one.’ - -Raphael Craig walked towards the house. In three minutes, the cars -being safely housed in a shed which formed part of some farm buildings, -Richard and Teresa joined him in the spacious hall of the abode. Supper -was served in the hall, because, as Teresa said, the hall was the -coolest place in the house. Except an oldish, stout woman, who went up -the stairs while they were at supper, Richard saw no sign of a domestic -servant. Before the meal, which consisted of cold fowl, a pasty, and -some more than tolerable claret, was finished, Raphael Craig excused -himself, said ‘Good-night’ abruptly, and retired into one of the rooms -on the ground-floor. Richard and Teresa were then left alone. Not a -word further had been exchanged between father and daughter as to the -daughter’s adventures on the road. So far as the old man’s attitude -implied anything at all, it implied that Teresa’s regular custom was to -return home at one in the morning after adventures with motor-cars and -elephants. Richard thought this lack of curiosity on the part of the -old man remarkably curious, especially as Raphael and his daughter were -obviously very much attached to each other. - -‘The circus was amusing this afternoon,’ Richard remarked. - -The talk had flagged. - -‘Where was it?’ Teresa asked. - -‘At Dunstable,’ said Richard. - -‘Really!’ she said, ‘I had not heard!’ - -This calm and nonchalant lie astounded - -Richard. She was a beautiful girl--vivacious, fresh, charming. She could -not have long passed her twentieth year, and her face seemed made of -innocence and lilies. Yet she lied like a veteran deceiver. It was -amusing. Richard removed his spectacles, wiped them, and replaced them. - -‘Yes,’ he continued, ‘I went to the afternoon performance. The clowns -were excellent, and there was a lady rider, named Juana, who was the -most perfect horsewoman I have ever seen.’ - -Not a muscle of that virginal face twitched. - -‘Indeed!’ said Teresa. - -‘I thought, perhaps, you had been with friends to the evening -performance,’ Richard said. - -‘Oh no!’ Teresa answered. ‘I had had a much longer journey. Of course, -as I overtook those absurd elephants in the cutting, I knew that there -must be a circus somewhere in the neighbourhood.’ - -Then there was another lull in the conversation. - -‘More wine, Mr. Redgrave?’ Teresa invited him. - -He thanked her and took another glass, and between the sips said: - -‘I am told this is a great chalk district--there are large chalk-pits, -are there not?’ - -‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you can see them from our windows. Very ugly they -look, too!’ - -‘So far, good!’ Richard privately reflected. - -He had, at any rate, learnt that the Craigs had something to conceal. - -The hall clock struck three. Outside it was broad daylight. - -‘That is a quarter of an hour fast,’ said Teresa. ‘But perhaps it might -be as well to go to bed. You are probably not used to these hours, Mr. -Redgrave? I am. Micky! Micky!’ - -The small, alert man came down the side-passage leading into the hall -from the back part of the house. - -‘This is decidedly a useful sort of servant,’ thought Richard, as he -looked intently at Mike’s wrinkled, humorous face. - -The Irishman seemed to be about thirty-five years of age. - -‘Micky,’ said Teresa, ‘show Mr. Redgrave to his room--the room over -here. Bridget has prepared it; but see that all is in order.’ - -‘That I will, miss,’ said Micky, but only after a marked pause. - -Richard shook hands with his hostess and ascended the stairs in Micky’s -wake, and was presently alone in a not very large bedroom, plainly -but sufficiently furnished, and with some rather good prints of famous -pictures on the walls. - -‘Without doubt,’ he said, as he got into bed, ‘I have had a good day -and deserve a good night. I must take measures to stop here as long as I -can.’ - -He had scarcely closed his eyes when there was a tap at the door, the -discreetest possible tap. - -‘Well?’ he inquired. - -‘It’s myself, sorr,’ said the voice of Micky familiarly. - -‘Come in, then, Mike,’ Richard said with equal familiarity. - -He already liked Micky; he felt as though he had known Micky for many -years. - -Richard had drawn both the blind and the curtains, and the room was in -darkness; he could only discern the outline of a figure. - -‘The mistress told me to remind your honour that breakfast was at seven -sharp.’ - -‘I was aware of it,’ Richard said dryly; ‘but I thank your mistress for -the reminder.’ - -‘An’ begging pardon, sorr, but d’ye know where it is you’re sleeping?’ - -‘At present,’ said Richard, ‘I’m not sleeping anywhere.’ - -‘Ah, sorr! Don’t joke. Mr. Featherstone slept in this room, sorr. Did ye -know Mr. Featherstone?’ - -‘What!’ cried Richard, starting up. ‘Do you mean the man that committed -suicide?’ - -‘The same, sorr. But speak low, your honour. It’s myself that should not -have mentioned it.’ - -‘Why not?’ Richard asked, subduing his voice. - -‘The master might not like it.’ - -‘Then why do you tell me?’ - -‘They say it’s unlucky to sleep in a room where a suicide slept the last -night of his life.’ - -‘Then Mr. Featherstone killed himself the day he left here?’ - -‘Sure he did so. And I thought I’d warn you.’ - -‘Oh, well,’ said Richard, ‘it’s no matter. I dare say it won’t affect my -repose. Goodnight. Thanks.’ - -‘I’d like ye to sleep in another room--I’d like ye to,’ urged Mike in a -persuasive whisper. - -‘No, thanks,’ said Richard firmly; ‘I’m settled now, and will take the -risk.’ - -Micky sighed and departed. As soon as he was gone Richard rose out of -bed, pulled the curtains aside, and made a minute examination of the -room. But he could discover nothing whatever beyond the customary -appurtenances of an ordinary middle-class bedchamber. There was a chest -of drawers, of which every drawer was locked. He tried to push the chest -away from the wall in order to look behind it, but the thing was so -heavy that he could not even move it. He returned to bed. At the same -time his ear caught the regular chink of coins, such a sound as might -be made by a man monotonously counting money. It continued without -interruption. At first Richard imagined it to proceed from under the -bed, but he knew that this was impossible. Then he thought it came -from the room to the left, then from the room to the right. -Chink--chink--chink; the periodic noise had no cessation. - -‘What coins can they be?’ Richard asked himself; and decided that such a -full, rich chink could only be made by half-crowns or crowns. - -He endeavoured to sleep, but in vain; for the sound continued with an -exasperating regularity. Then he seemed uneasily to doze, and woke up -with a start; the sound was still going on. The hall clock struck five. -He jumped out of bed, washed and dressed himself, and went quietly -downstairs. The sound had mysteriously ceased. With a little difficulty -he opened the hall door and passed out into the garden. - -It was a lovely morning; the birds sang ravishingly, and a gentle -breeze stirred the cypress-trees which lined the drive. The house was -absolutely plain as regards its exterior--a square, solid, British -farmhouse. A meadow that was half orchard separated it from the -high-road. Away from the house, on the other side of it, and at the end -of a large garden, was a long range of low buildings, in the form of -a quadrangle, which had, presumably, once been the farmstead; they -presented, now, a decayed and forlorn look. Richard walked past the -front of the house, under its shuttered windows, across the garden, -towards these farm buildings. As he opened a gate in the garden wall he -saw Mike issuing cautiously from one of the sheds. - -Simultaneously there was a tremendous crash from the house--an -ear-splitting crash, a crash that might have been caused by ten domestic -servants dropping ten trays of crockery on a brick floor. But the crash -had a metallic ring with it that precluded the idea of a catastrophe in -earthenware. - -Richard and Micky glanced at each other. - - - - -CHAPTER IV--MR. PUDDEPHATT - -Richard saw that Mike was quite as startled as himself at the sound -of that appalling crash within the house. But in a moment the Irish -man-of-all-work had recovered his wits. - -‘Sure,’ he said, his eyes twinkling, ‘the Day o’ Judgment has come along -unexpected.’ - -‘What was it?’ Richard asked. - -‘Mrs. Bridget must have pulled the kitchen dresser on the top of her,’ -said Mike. ‘Or it’s a procession of cups and saucers down the cellar -steps and they missed their footing.’ - -But, in spite of the man’s jocular tone, Richard thought he perceived -something serious in Mike’s face. It occurred to him that the Irishman -had guessed the true cause of the noise, and was trying to hide it from -the visitor. - -‘You’re up early in these parts,’ said Richard, determined to ignore the -crash. - -‘I’m a bad sleeper, your honour, and when I can’t sleep I get up and -enjoy the works of Nature--same as your honour.’ The man looked as -fresh as though he had had a long night’s rest. ‘Like to see the horses, -sorr?’ he added. - -‘Certainly,’ said Richard, following Mike into the stable, which was at -that end of the range of farm buildings nearest the house. A couple of -Irish mares occupied the two stalls of the stable, fine animals both, -with clean legs and long, straight necks. But Richard knew nothing of -horses, and after a few conventional phrases of admiration he passed -into the harness-room behind the stable, and so into what had once been -a large farmyard. - -‘No farming here nowadays,’ he said. - -‘No, sorr,’ said Mike, taking off his coat, preparatory to grooming the -mares. ‘Motorcars and farming don’t go together. It’s many a year since -a hen clucked on that midden.’ - -Richard went into several of the sheds. In one he discovered a Panhard -car, similar to that belonging to Lord Dolmer. He examined it, saw that -it was in order, and then, finding a screwdriver, removed the screw -which held the recoil-spring of its principal brake; he put the screw in -his pocket. Then he proceeded further, saw the other two cars in another -shed, and next door to that shed a large workshop full of Yankee tools -and appliances. Here, improving on his original idea, he filed the -thread of the screw which he had abstracted, returned to the first shed, -and replaced the screw loosely in its hole. At the furthest corner of -the erstwhile farmyard was a locked door, the only locked door in the -quadrangle. He tried the latch several times, and at last turned away. -From the open door of the harness-room Mike was watching him. - -‘I’ve been on a voyage of discovery,’ he called, rather -self-consciously, across the farmyard. - -‘Did your honour happen to discover America?’ Mike answered. - -Richard fancied that he could trace a profound irony in the man’s tone. - -‘No,’ he laughed back. ‘But I think I’ll try to discover the village. -Which way?’ - -‘Along the boreen, sort; then up the hill and down the hill, and you’ll -come to it if you keep going. It’s a mile by day and two by night.’ - -Richard reached the house again precisely at seven o’clock. Teresa was -out in the garden gathering flowers. They exchanged the usual chatter -about being up early, walks before breakfast, and the freshness of the -morning, and then a gong sounded. - -‘Breakfast,’ said Teresa, flying towards the house. - -The meal was again served in the hall. Richard wondered at its -promptness in this happy-go-lucky household, but when he saw the face -of the stern old woman named Bridget he ceased to wonder. Bridget was -evidently a continual fount of order and exactitude. Whatever others did -or failed to do, she could be relied upon to keep time. - -Mr. Raphael Craig came out of the room into which he had vanished six -hours earlier. He kissed Teresa, and shook Richard’s hand with equal -gravity. In the morning light his massive head looked positively noble, -Richard thought. The bank manager had the air of a great poet or a -great scientist. He seemed wrapped up in his own deep meditations on the -universe. - -Yet he ate a noticeably healthy breakfast. Richard counted both the -rashers and the eggs consumed by Raphael Craig. - -‘How do you go to town, dad?’ asked Teresa. ‘Remember, to-day is -Saturday.’ - -‘I shall go down on the Panhard. You smashed the other last night, and I -don’t care to experiment with our new purchase this morning.’ - -‘No, you won’t go down on the Panhard,’ Richard said to himself; ‘I’ve -seen to that.’ - -‘Perhaps I may have the pleasure of taking Mr. Redgrave with me?’ the -old man added. - -‘I shall be delighted,’ said Richard. - -‘Do you object to fast travelling?’ asked Mr. Craig. ‘We start in a -quarter of an hour, and shall reach Kilburn before nine-thirty.’ - -‘The faster the better,’ Richard agreed. - -‘If you please, sir, something’s gone wrong with the brake of the -Panhard. The thread of one of the screws is worn.’ - -The voice was the voice of Micky, whose head had unceremoniously -inserted itself at the front-door. - -A shadow crossed the fine face of Raphael Craig. - -‘Something gone wrong?’ he questioned severely. - -‘Sure, your honour. Perhaps the expert gentleman can mend it,’ Mike -replied. - -Again Richard detected a note of irony in the Irishman’s voice. - -The whole party went out to inspect the Panhard. Richard, in his assumed -rôle of expert, naturally took a prominent position. In handling the -damaged screw he contrived to drop it accidentally down a grid in the -stone floor. - -‘Never mind,’ said Raphael Craig, with a sharp gesture of annoyance. -‘I will drive to Leighton Buzzard and catch the eight-ten. It is now -seven-thirty. Harness Hetty instantly, Mick.’ - -‘That I will, sorr.’ - -‘Let me suggest,’ Richard interposed, ‘that I take you to Leighton on -the new car. I can then explain the working of it to you, and return -here, retrieve the screw which I have so clumsily lost, and put the -Panhard to rights, and possibly mend the other one.’ - -‘Oh yes, dad,’ said Teresa, ‘that will be splendid, and I will go -with you to Leighton and drive the car back under Mr. Redgrave’s -instructions.’ - -In three minutes the new electric car was at the front-door. Mr. Raphael -Craig had gone into the house to fetch his bag. He came out with a -rather large brown portmanteau, which from the ease with which he -carried it, was apparently empty. The car was in the form of as mall -wagonette, with room for two at the front. Mr. Craig put down the bag in -the after-part of the car, where Teresa was already sitting, and sprang -to Richard’s side on the box-seat As he did so the bag slipped, and -Richard seized it to prevent it from falling. He was astounded to find -it extremely heavy. By exerting all his strength he could scarcely lift -it, yet Mr. Craig had carried it with ease. The bank manager must be a -Hercules, notwithstanding his years! - -The five and a half miles to Leighton Buzzard Station, on the London -and North-Western main line, was accomplished in twenty minutes, and -Mr. Raphael Craig pronounced himself satisfied with the new car’s -performance. - -‘If you don’t mind, Mr. Redgrave,’ he said, ‘you might meet me here with -this car at two-forty-five this afternoon--that is, if you can spare -the time. Meanwhile, perhaps the Panhard will be mended, and my daughter -will entertain you as best she can.’ - -Mr. Craig seemed to take Richard’s affirmative for granted. Stepping off -the car, he threw a kiss to Teresa, picked up the bag as though it had -been a feather, and disappeared into the station. - -‘May I drive home?’ Teresa asked meekly, and Richard explained the -tricks of the mechanism. - -Speeding through the country lanes, with this beautiful girl by his -side, Richard was conscious of acute happiness. He said to himself that -he had never been so happy in the whole of his life. He wished that he -could forget the scene in the chalk-pit, the mysterious crash, -Teresa’s lies, the suicide of Featherstone, and every other suspicious -circumstance. He wished he could forget Mr. Simon Lock and his own -mission. But he could not forget, and his conscience began to mar his -happiness. What was he doing in the household of the Craigs? Was he not -a spy? Was he not taking advantage of Teresa’s innocent good-nature? -Bah! it was his trade to be a spy, for what other term could be employed -in describing a private inquiry agent? And as for Teresa’s innocence, -probably she was not so innocent after all. The entire household was -decidedly queer, unusual, disconcerting. It decidedly held a secret, -and it was the business of him, Richard Redgrave, specialist, to unearth -that secret. Simon Lock was one of the smartest men in England, and his -doubts as to the _bona fides_ of Mr. Raphael Craig seemed in a fair way -to be soon justified. ‘To work, then,’ said Richard resolutely. - -‘Don’t you like Micky?’ the girl asked, with an enchanting smile. - -‘Micky is delightful,’ said Richard; ‘I suppose you have had him for -many years. He has the look of an old and tried retainer.’ - -‘Hasn’t he!’ Teresa concurred; ‘but we have had him precisely a -fortnight. You know that Watling Street, like all great high-roads, is -infested with tramps. Micky was a Watling Street tramp. He came to the -house one day to shelter from a bad thunderstorm. He said he was from -Limerick, and badly in need of work. I was at school in a Limerick -convent for five years, and I liked his Irish ways and speech. We -happened to be desperately in need of an odd man, and so I persuaded -father to engage him on trial. Micky is on trial for a month. I do hope -he will stop with us. He doesn’t know very much about motor-cars, but we -are teaching him, and he does understand horses and the garden.’ - -‘Only a fortnight!’ was all Richard’s response. - -‘Yes, but it seems years,’ said the girl. - -‘I was much struck by his attractive manner,’ said Richard, ‘when he -came to my room last night with your message.’ - -‘My message?’ - -‘Yes, about breakfast.’ - -‘That must be a mistake,’ said Teresa. ‘I never sent any message.’ - -‘He said that you desired to remind me that breakfast was at seven -o’clock.’ - -Teresa laughed. - -‘Oh!’ she said, ‘that’s just like Micky, just like Micky.’ - -The frank, innocent gaiety of that laugh made Richard forget Teresa’s -fibs of the previous night. He could think of nothing but her beauty, -her youth, her present candour. He wished to warn her. In spite of the -obvious foolishness of such a course, he wished to warn her--against -herself. - -‘Has it ever occurred to you, Miss Craig,’ he said suddenly, and all -the time he cursed himself for saying it, ‘that Mr. Craig’s--er--mode of -life, and your own, might expose you to the trickeries of scoundrels, -or even to the curiosity of the powers that be? Permit me, though our -acquaintance is so brief and slight, to warn you against believing that -things are what they appear to be.’ - -There was a pause. - -‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she said slowly, ‘do you mean to imply----’ - -‘I mean to imply nothing whatever, Miss Craig.’ - -‘But you must----’ - -‘Listen. I saw you at the circus yesterday, and in the----’ - -He stopped at the word ‘chalk-pit.’ He thought that perhaps he had -sacrificed himself sufficiently. - -‘At the circus!’ she exclaimed, then blushed as red as the vermilion -wheels of the electric car. ‘You are an excessively rude man!’ she said. - -‘I admit it,’ he answered. - -‘But I forgive you,’ she continued, more mildly; ‘your intentions are -generous.’ - -‘They are,’ said Richard, and privately called himself a hundred -different sorts of fool. - -Why, why had he warned her against espionage? Why had he stultified -his own undertaking, the whole purpose of his visit to Queen’s Farm, -Hockliffe? Was it because of her face? Was Richard Redgrave, then, like -other foolish young men in spring? He admitted that it appeared he was. - -When they arrived at the farm Richard deposited his hostess at the -front-door, and ran the car round to the outbuildings, calling for -Micky. But Micky was not about He saw the stable-door open, and, -dismounting, he entered the stable. There was no sign of Micky. He went -into the harness-room and perceived Micky’s coat still hanging on its -peg. He also perceived something yellow sticking out of the inside -pocket of the coat He made bold to examine the pocket, and found a -French book--the Memoirs of Goron, late chief of the Paris police. - -‘Rather a strange sort of Irish tramp,’ Richard thought, ‘to be reading -a French book, and such a book!’ - -With the aid of the admirable collection of tools in Mr. Raphael Craig’s -workshop, Richard, who was decidedly a gifted amateur in the art of -engineering, set to work on the damaged motor-cars, and an hour before -lunch-time both the Panhard and the Décauville voiturette were fully -restored to the use of their natural functions. He might easily have -elongated his task, after the manner of some British workmen, so as to -make it last over the week-end; but he had other plans, and, besides, he -was not quite sure whether he wished to continue the quest which he had -undertaken on behalf of Mr. Simon Lock. - -At twelve o’clock he made his way to the house, and found Micky weeding -the drive. The two mares were capering in the orchard meadow which -separated the house from the road. - -‘Well, Mike,’ said Richard, ‘I see you’ve lived in France in your time.’ - -‘Not me, sorr! And what might your honour be after with those words?’ - -‘You weed in the French way,’ Richard returned--‘on hands and knees -instead of stooping.’ - -It was a wild statement, but it served as well as another. - -‘I’ve never been to France but once, your honour, and then I didn’t -get there, on account of the sea being so unruly. ’Twas a day trip to -Boulogne from London, and sure we had everything in the programme except -Boulogne. ’Twas a beautiful sight, Boulogne, but not so beautiful as -London when we arrived back at night, thanks to the Blessed Virgin.’ - -‘Then you are a French scholar?’ said Richard. - -‘Wee, wee, bong, merci! That’s me French, and it’s proud I am of it, -your honour. I’ve no other tricks.’ - -‘Haven’t you!’ thought Richard; and he passed into the house. - -Mike proceeded calmly with his weeding. On inquiry for Miss Craig, -Bridget, with a look which seemed to say ‘Hands off,’ informed him that -the young lady was in the orchard. He accordingly sought the orchard, -and discovered Teresa idly swinging in a hammock that was slung between -two apple-trees. - -‘Well, Mr. Redgrave,’ she questioned, ‘have you found that lost screw?’ - -‘I have found it,’ he said, ‘and put both cars in order. What with three -cars and two horses, you and Mr. Craig should be tolerably well supplied -with the means of locomotion.’ - -‘Yes,’ she said. ‘After all, the horses are the best.’ She sat up in the -hammock and called ‘Hetty!’ One of the mares lifted its head, whinnied, -and advanced sedately to the hammock. Teresa stroked the creature’s -nose. ‘Isn’t she a beauty, Mr. Redgrave? See.’ - -In an instant Teresa had sprung on the mare’s back, and was cantering, -bareback and without bridle, across the meadow. Hetty was evidently -docile to the last degree, and could be guided by a touch of the hand on -the neck. - -‘What do you think of that, Mr. Redgrave?’ asked the girl proudly when -she returned. - -Richard paused. - -‘It is as good as Juana,’ he said quietly. ‘I had no idea you were such -a performer.’ - -Teresa flushed as she slipped easily, to the ground. - -‘I am not such a performer,’ she stiffly replied. - -‘I came to tell you,’ said Richard, ignoring her petulance, ‘that I have -to go to a place in the village on some other business for my firm, I -will get my lunch at one of the inns, and be back at----’ - -‘Now, Mr. Redgrave,’ she interrupted him, ‘don’t be horrid. I have -told Bridget to prepare a charming lunch for us at one-fifteen, and at -one-fifteen it will be ready. You cannot possibly leave me to eat it -alone.’ - -‘I can’t,’ he admitted. ‘At one-fifteen I will be here. Thank you -for telling Bridget to get something charming.’ He raised his hat and -departed. - -Now, the first dwelling in the village of Hockliffe as you enter it by -Watling Street from the south is a small double-fronted house with a -small stable at the side thereof. A vast chestnut-tree stands in front -of it, and at this point the telegraph-wires, which elsewhere run -thickly on both sides of the road, are all carried on the left side, so -as not to interfere with the chestnut-tree. Over the front-door of the -house, which is set back in a tiny garden, is a sign to this effect: -‘Puddephatt, Wine Merchant.’ Having descried the sign, the observant -traveller will probably descry rows of bottles in one of the windows of -the house. - -As Richard sauntered down the road in search of he knew not what, Mr. -Puddephatt happened to be leaning over his railings--a large, stout -man, dressed in faded gray, with a red, cheerful face and an air of -unostentatious prosperity. - -‘Morning,’ said Puddephatt. - -‘Morning,’ said Richard. - -‘Fine morning, said Mr. Puddephatt. - -Richard accepted the proposition and agreed that it was a fine morning. -Then he slackened speed and stopped in front of Mr. Puddephatt. - -‘You are Mr. Puddephatt?’ - -‘The same, sir.’ - -‘I suppose, you haven’t got any Hennessy 1875 in stock?’ - -‘Have I any Hennessy 1875 in stock, sir? Yes, I have, sir. Five-and-six -a bottle, and there’s no better brandy nowhere.’ - -‘I’m not feeling very well,’ said Richard, ‘and I always take Hennessy -1875 when I’m queer, and one can’t often get it at public-houses.’ - -‘No, you can’t, sir.’ - -‘You don’t hold a retail license?’ Richard asked. - -‘No, sir. I can’t sell less than a shilling’s worth, and that mustn’t -be drunk on the premises. But I tell you what I can do--I’ll give you a -drop. Come inside, sir.’ - -‘It’s awfully good of you,’ said the brazen Richard; and he went inside -and had the drop. - -In return he gave Mr. Puddephatt an excellent cigar. Then they began to -talk. - -‘I want a lodging for a night or two,’ Richard said after a time; and -he explained that he had brought a motor-car up to the Queen’s Farm, and -had other business in the district for his firm. - -‘I can find ye a lodging,’ said Mr. Puddephatt promptly. ‘An aunt o’ -mine at the other end of the village has as nice a little bedroom as -ever you seed, and she’ll let you have it for a shilling a night, and -glad.’ - -‘Could you arrange it for me?’ Richard asked. - -‘I could, sir,’ said Mr. Puddephatt; and then reflectively: ‘So you’ve -come up to Queen’s Farm with a motor-car. Seems there ’re always having -motor-cars there.’ - -‘I suppose they’re perfectly safe, eh?’ said Richard. - -‘Oh, they’re safe enough,’ Mr. Puddephatt replied emphatically. ‘Very -nice people, too, but a bit queer.’ - -‘Queer? How?’ - -Mr. Puddephatt laughed hesitatingly. - -‘Well,’ he said, ‘that Miss Craig’s knocking about these roads on them -motor-cars day and night. Not but what she’s a proper young lady.’ - -‘But everyone goes about on motor-cars nowadays,’ said Richard. - -‘Yes,’ said Mr. Puddephatt. ‘But everyone doesn’t pay all their bills in -new silver same as the Craigs.’ - -‘They pay for everything in new silver, do they?’ said Richard. - -‘That they do, sir. I sold ’em a couple of Irish mares when they first -come to the Queen’s Farm. Dashed if I didn’t have to take the money away -in my dog-cart!’ - -‘But is it not the fact that an uncle of Mr. Craig’s died a couple of -years ago and left him a large fortune in silver--an old crank, wasn’t -he?’ - -‘So people say,’ said Mr. Puddephatt sharply, as if to intimate that -people would say anything. - -‘It’s perfectly good silver, isn’t it?’ Richard asked. - -‘Oh, it’s good enough!’ Mr. Puddephatt admitted in the same tone as he -had said ‘Oh, they’re safe enough!’ a few moments before. - -‘How long has Mr. Craig lived at the Queen’s Farm?’ - -‘About two years,’ said Mr. Puddephatt. - -Mr. Simon Lock, then, was wrongly informed. Mr. Lock had said that Craig -had lived at the farm for many years. - -‘Where did he come from?’ - -‘Before that he had a small house under Dunstable Downs--rather a -lonesome place, near them big chalk-pits,’ Mr. Puddephatt answered. ‘He -seems to like lonesome houses.’ - -‘Near the chalk-pits, eh?’ said Richard. - -‘As you’re a motorcar gent,’ said Mr. Puddephatt later, ‘I reckon I -can’t sell you a horse.’ - -‘I thought you sold wines and spirits.’ - -‘So I do. I supply the gentry for miles around; but I does a bit in -horses--and other things. And there isn’t a man as ever I sold a horse -to as I can’t look in the face this day. I’ve got the prettiest little -bay cob in my stable now----’ - -Richard was obliged to say that that was not his season for buying -horse-flesh, and, thanking Mr. Puddephatt, he left the wineshop. - -‘A house near the chalk-pits,’ he mused. Then he turned back. ‘I’ll let -you know about the room later in the day,’ he said to Mr. Puddephatt. - -‘Right, sir,’ answered Mr. Puddephatt. - -Richard could not refrain from speculating as to how much Mr. Puddephatt -already knew about the Craigs and how much he guessed at. Mr. Puddephatt -was certainly a man of weight and a man of caution. The wine-merchant’s -eyes continually hinted at things which his tongue never uttered. - - - - -CHAPTER V--FIRE - -The luncheon with Teresa was a pronounced social success. French rather -than Irish in character, it was eaten under a plum-tree in the orchard. -Micky waited at table with his hat on, and then disappeared for awhile. -At two o’clock he rose again above the horizon, and said that the -electric car was at the door. Richard and Teresa set off to meet the -two-thirty train at Leighton Buzzard. By this time they had certainly -become rather intimate, according to the way of young persons thrown -together--by no matter what chance--in the month of June--or any other -month. It was not, perhaps, unnatural that Raphael Craig, when he -emerged from the railway-station and found the two laughing and chatting -side by side in the motor-car, should have cast at them a sidelong -glance, in which were mingled amusement, alarm, and warning. - -Mr. Raphael carried the large brown portmanteau, which was now--as -Richard discovered by handling it--quite empty. On the journey home -Teresa drove the car, and her father sat by her side. Richard occupied -the rear of the car, giving a hint occasionally as to the management of -the machine. - -‘I think I have nothing further to do here,’ he said when the party had -arrived safely at Queen’s Farm. ‘Both the other cars are in order. I -will therefore bid you good-day. Should anything go wrong with this car, -you will doubtless let us know.’ - -He spoke in his most commercial manner, though his feelings were far -from commercial. - -Raphael Craig bent those dark, deep eyes of his upon the youth. - -‘I have been telephoning to your firm this morning,’ said Craig, ‘and -have arranged with them that you shall take the Panhard back to town. -They are going to take it off my hands--at a price.’ - -‘With pleasure,’ said Richard. - -‘But,’ Mr. Craig continued, ‘I wish to use the Panhard this week-end. -Therefore you cannot remove it till Monday.’ - -‘Very good,’ said Richard, ‘I will present myself on Monday morning.’ - -‘And in the meantime?’ - -‘In the meantime I have other business for my firm in the -neighbourhood.’ - -Teresa’s glance intercepted her father’s, and these two exchanged a -look. The old man frowned at his daughter. - -‘Good-day,’ said Richard. - -Raphael and Teresa shook hands with him. Was he a conceited ass, or did -Teresa really seem grieved? - -‘Till Monday,’ said Teresa. - -Richard walked down to the village, engaged Miss Puddephatt’s room, and -dined at the White Horse Hotel. He had not yet definitely decided what -course of conduct to follow. He was inclined to do nothing further in -the affair, and to tell Simon Lock on Monday that, so far as he could -discover, Simon Lock’s suspicions about Raphael Craig were groundless. -He had taken no money from Simon Lock, and he would take none. Yet -why should he pause now? Why should he not, for his own private -satisfaction, probe the mystery to the bottom? Afterwards--when the -strange secret stood revealed to him--there would be plenty of time then -to decide whether or not to deliver up Raphael Craig into the hands of -Simon Lock. Yes, on consideration he would, for his own pleasure, find -out whatever was to be found out. - -That evening, an hour after sunset, he lay hidden behind a hedge on the -west side of Watling Street, exactly opposite the boreen leading to the -Queen’s Farm. - -Richard slept. He was decidedly short of sleep, and sleep overtook him -unawares. Suddenly from the end of the boreen came the faint spit, spit -of a motor-car, growing louder as it approached the main road. Would it -awake Richard? No, he slept stolidly on. The motor-car, bearing an old -man and a young girl, slid down into the valley towards Dunstable, and -so out of hearing. An hour passed. The church clock at Houghton Regis, -two miles off to the east, struck midnight. Then the car might have been -heard returning, it laboured heavily up the hill, and grunted as though -complaining of its burden as it curved round into the boreen towards -Queen’s Farm. - -Richard awoke. In a fraction of a second he was wide awake, alert, -eager, excited. He saw the car vanishing towards the outbuildings of -Queen’s Farm. Springing out of the hedge, he clambered over the opposite -hedge into Craig’s orchard, crossed it, passed the house by its north -side, and so came to the quadrangle of outbuildings. By keeping on the -exterior of this quadrangle he arrived at last, skirting the walls, at -the blind end of the boreen. He peeped cautiously round the angle of -the wall, scarcely allowing even the tip of his nose to protrude, and -discerned the empty motor-car. He ventured forward into the boreen. It -was at this corner of the quadrangle that the locked shed was situated. -Rather high up in the wall a light disclosed the presence of a small -window. The faintness of the light proved that the window must be -extremely dirty. But even if it had been clean he could not have -utilized it, for it was seven feet from the earth. He put his hand on -the wall and touched a spout. The spout felt rickety, but he climbed -up it, and, clinging partly to the spout and partly to the frame of the -window, he looked into the locked shed. It had once, he perceived, been -used as a stable, but it was being put to other purposes now. The manger -was heaped up with bright silver coins. In the middle of the floor stood -a large iron receptacle of peculiar shape. He guessed that it had been -constructed to fit into the well of the Panhard motor-car. By means of -two small buckets Teresa and her father were transferring the contents -of this receptacle, which was still half full of silver, into the -manger. - -The shed was ‘lighted by a single candle stuck insecurely on what had -once been a partition between two stalls. The candle flickered and cast -strange shadows. The upper part of the chamber was in darkness. Looking -straight across it, Richard saw another little window exactly opposite -his own; and through this window he discerned another watching face. - -‘Micky!’ he exclaimed softly to himself. - -Raphael and Teresa were, then, doubly spied upon. But who was Micky? - -Richard’s attention was diverted from this interesting inquiry by the -gradual growth of a light near the door, of which, being parallel with -his window, he had no view. Then a long, licking flame appeared. -He could see it creeping across the floor, nearer and nearer to the -unconscious heavers of silver. Raphael had turned on the waste tap of -the exhaust petrol under the motor-car. The highly combustible quid had -run beneath the door of the shed it had there come in contact with -the ax match used by Raphael to light the candle and then thrown down. -Richard saw next that the door of the shed was on fire; at the same -moment, unable any longer to keep his grip on the spout and the -window-frame, he fell unexpectedly to the ground. - - - - -CHAPTER VI--THE DESIRE FOR SILVER - -The blazing door was locked. Richard called, shouted shouted again. -There was no answer, but in the extraordinary outer silence he could -still hear the industrious shovelling of silver. - -‘Well,’ he said to himself, ‘they’re bound to find out pretty soon that -the show’s on fire.’ - -He threw himself against the door angrily, and, to his surprise, it -yielded, and he fell over the river of flame into the interior of -the shed. The noise at last startled Raphael and Teresa out of the -preoccupation of their task. - -‘Haven’t you perceived that the place is being burned down?’ he -exclaimed drily. - -At the same instant he sprang towards Teresa. The stream of burning -petrol had found its way into the central runnel of the stone floor, and -so had suddenly reached the hem of Teresa’s dress, which already showed -a small blaze. Fortunately, it was a serge travelling frock; had it -been of light summer material, Teresa would probably have been burnt to -death. Richard dragged her fiercely from the region of the runnel, and -extinguished the smouldering serge between his hands, which showed the -scars of that timely action for a fortnight afterwards. He glanced round -quickly, saw a pile of empty sacks in a corner--had they been used as -money-bags? he wondered--and, seizing several of them, laid them fiat -on the burning petrol and against the door. His unhesitating celerity no -doubt prevented a magnificent conflagration. The petrol, it is true, had -nearly burnt itself out, but the woodwork of the door was, in fireman’s -phrase, ‘well alight,’ and, being aged and rotten, it formed a quick -fuel. - -When the flames had been conquered, the three occupants of the shed -looked at each other without a word. Strange to say, under the steady -gaze of Raphael Craig, Richard’s eyes blinked, and he glanced in another -direction--up at the little window in the opposite wall where he had -seen the face of Micky, but where the face of Micky was no longer on -view. Then he looked again at Raphael Craig, whose dark orbs seemed to -ask accusingly: ‘What are you doing here?’ And, despite the fact that he -had in all probability been the means of saving Teresa’s life, he could -not avoid the absurd sensation of having been caught in a misdeed. -He felt as if he must explain his presence to Raphael Craig. At that -juncture, we are obliged to confess, his imperturbability deserted him -for a space. - -‘I--I happened to be passing the end of the road,’ he said lamely, ‘and -I saw what I took to be a flame, so I ran along--and found--this, I’m -glad it’s no worse.’ - -‘So am I,’ said Raphael Craig, with cold gravity. - -Teresa was silent. - -‘I’m glad I was in time,’ said Richard, as awkwardly as a boy. - -‘I’m glad you were,’ Mr. Craig agreed. - -‘It is possible that my daughter owes her life to you. I cannot imagine -how I could have been so careless with that petrol. It was inexcusable. -We thank you, Mr. Redgrave, for your services so admirably rendered.’ - -‘Don’t mention it,’ said Richard; ‘that’s nothing at all.’ - -The whole interview was becoming too utterly ridiculous. But what could -be said or done? It was the heaps of silver coins lying about that -rendered the situation so extremely difficult. Useless for Raphael Craig -to pretend that he and Teresa had been engaged in some perfectly usual -and common-place task. Useless for Richard, notwithstanding his lame -explanation, to pretend that he had not been spying. The heaps of -silver made all parties excessively self-conscious, and when you are -self-conscious you can never say the right thing in the right manner. - -It was Raphael Craig who first, so to speak, came to himself. - -‘As you are here, Mr. Redgrave,’ he said, ‘as you have already laid us -under one obligation, perhaps you will consent to lay us under another. -Perhaps you will help us to finish off these few coins. Afterwards I -will beg the honour of a few words with you in private.’ - -It was magnificent, thought Richard, this audacious manouvre of the old -man’s. It took the bull by the horns in a very determined fashion. It -disarmed Richard instantly. What course, save that of complying with so -calm and courteous a request, could he pursue? He divined that Raphael -Craig was not a man moulded to the ordinary pattern of bank managers, -‘With pleasure,’ he replied, and thereupon the heaps of silver seemed -less bizarre, less confusing, less productive of a general awkwardness. -By a fiction unanimously agreed to, all three began to behave as if -shovelling thousands of new silver coins at dead of night in a disused -stable was a daily affair with them. - -Still without uttering a word, Teresa handed her galvanized iron bucket -to Richard. He noticed a little uncertainty in the motion of her hand as -she did so. The next moment there was a thud on the floor of the stable. -Teresa had fainted. She lay extended on the stone floor. Richard ran to -pick up that fair frame. He had lifted the girl’s head when the old man -interposed. - -‘Never raise the head of a person who has lost consciousness,’ he said -coldly; ‘it is dangerous. Teresa will recover in a few minutes. This -swoon is due only to the shock and strain of the last few minutes. In -the meantime, will you open the door?’ - -Richard, having complied, stood inactive, anxious to do something, yet -finding nothing to do. - -‘Shall I fetch some water from the house?’ he asked. ‘Swoons are -sometimes very serious if they last too long.’ - -‘Are they, my friend?’ said Raphael, with the trace of a smile. ‘This -one is already over--see?’ - -Teresa opened her eyes. - -‘What are you two staring at?’ she inquired curiously, and then sighed -as one fatigued. - -Her father raised her head in his arm and held it so for a few moments. - -‘Now, my chuck,’ he said, ‘try if you can stand. Mr. Redgrave, will you -assist me?’ - -Mr. Redgrave assisted with joy. The girl at length stood up, supported -on one side by Raphael Craig and on the other by the emissary of Simon -Lock. With a glance at Richard, she said she could walk. Outside stood -the motor-car. - -‘Shall we take her round to the front-door on this?’ Richard suggested. - -‘Are you mad?’ exclaimed Raphael Craig, with sudden disapproval. ‘Teresa -will walk.’ - -He locked the charred door of the stable with a padlock which he took -from his pocket, and they proceeded to the house. - -Bridget stood at the front-door, seeming to expect them. - -‘You’re not well, mavourneen,’ she said, glancing at Teresa’s face, and -led the girl away. - -During the whole of the time spent by him at Queen’s Farm nothing -impressed Richard more than the impassive yet affectionate demeanour of -Mrs. Bridget, that mysterious old servant, on this occasion. - -The two men were left together in the hall. Mrs. Bridget and Teresa had -gone upstairs. - -‘Mike!’ Raphael Craig called. - -‘Yes, sorr,’ answered Mike, appearing from a small butler’s pantry under -the staircase. - -‘Bring whisky into the drawing-room.’ - -‘That I will, sorr.’ - -Richard admired Micky’s sangfroid, which was certainly tremendous, and -he determined to have an interview with the man before many hours were -past, in order to see whether he could not break that sangfroid down. - -‘Come into the drawing-room, will you?’, said Raphael Craig. - -‘Thanks,’ said Richard. - -The drawing-room proved to be the room into which Mr. Craig had vanished -on the _previous_ night. It presented, to his surprise, no unusual -feature whatever. It had the customary quantities of chairs, occasional -tables, photographs, knicknacks, and cosy corners. It was lighted by a -single lamp suspended from the middle of the ceiling. The only article -of furniture that by any stretch of fancy could be termed extraordinary -in a drawing-room was a rather slim grandfather’s clock in an inlaid -case of the Sheraton period. This clock struck one as they went into the -room. - -Micky arrived with the whisky. - -‘You will join me?’ asked Raphael, lifting the decanter. - -‘Thanks,’ said Richard. - -‘That will do, Mike.’ - -Mike departed. The two men ignited cigars and drank. Each was seated in -a large easy-chair. - -‘Now for it,’ said Richard to himself. - -Mr. Raphael Craig coughed. - -‘I dare say, Mr. Redgrave,’ the bank manager began, ‘that certain things -which you have seen this evening will have struck you as being somewhat -strange.’ - -‘I am happy to have been of any help,’ said Richard. - -Raphael bowed. - -‘I will not disguise from you,’ he continued, that when you arrived here -in such a peculiar manner last night I had my suspicious of your good -faith. I even thought for a moment--it was very foolish of me--that you -were from Scotland Yard. I don’t know why I should have thought that, -but I did think it.’ - -‘Really,’ said Richard, ‘I have not the least connection with Scotland -Yard. I told you my business.’ - -‘I believe you,’ said Raphael. ‘I merely mention the course of my -thoughts concerning you. I am fully convinced now that, despite certain -unusual items connected with your visit, you are exactly what you said -you were, and for my doubts I now offer apology. To tell you the truth, -I inquired from the Williamson Company this morning as to you, and was -quite reassured by what they said. But,’ Mr. Craig went on, with a -very pronounced ‘but,’ interrupting Richard, who had embarked on some -protest--‘but I have at the same time been forced to the conclusion, Mr. -Redgrave, that my household, such as it is, and my ways, such as -they are, have roused in you a curiosity which is scarcely worthy -of yourself. I am a fairly good judge of character, and I know by -infallible signs that you have a nature far above idle curiosity.’ - -‘Thanks for your good opinion,’ said Richard; ‘but, to deal with your -suspicions in their order, may I ask why you thought at first that I was -an agent of Scotland Yard? Were you expecting Scotland Yard at Queen’s -Farm?’ - -He could not avoid a faint ironic smile. - -Mr. Craig threw his cigar into the fireplace. - -‘I was,’ said Raphael briefly, ‘and I will tell you why. Some time ago -an uncle of mine died, at a great age, and left me a huge fortune. My -uncle, Mr. Redgrave, was mad. For fifty years he had put all his savings -into silver coins. He had once been in a Mexican silver-mine, and the -experience in some mysterious way had affected his brain. Perhaps his -brain was already affected. He lived for silver, and in half a century -he collected more than half a million separate silver coins--all -English, all current, all unused. This fortune he bequeathed to me. I -was, in fact, his sole relative.’ - -‘A strange old fellow he must have been,’ Richard remarked. - -‘Yes,’ said Raphael. ‘But I am equally strange. I have said that -my uncle had a mania. I, too, have that mania, for I tell you, Mr. -Redgrave, that I cannot bring myself to part with those coins. I have -the same madness for silver that my uncle had. Away from the silver, I -can see myself steadily, can admit frankly to myself that on that one -point my brain is, if you like the term, “touched.” In the presence of -the silver I exist solely for it, and can think of nothing else.’ - -‘Nevertheless,’ said Richard dispassionately, ‘I was told in the village -to-day that you paid for everything in silver. If you are so attached -to silver, how can you bring yourself to part with it? Why not pay in -gold?’ - -‘Because,’ Raphael replied, ‘I never handle gold save in my professional -capacity as bank manager. I take my salary in silver. I cannot help it. -The weight frequently proves a difficulty, but I cannot help it. Silver -I must have. It is in my blood, the desire for silver. True, I pay away -silver--simply because I have no other coins available.’ - -‘I see,’ said Richard. - -He scarcely knew what to think of his strange companion. The man seemed -absolutely sane, absolutely in possession of every sense and faculty, -yet, behold him accusing himself of madness! - -‘Let me finish,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘When I came into my uncle’s -fortune I was at a loss what to do with it. The small house which I then -had over at Sewell, near Chalk Hill, had no accommodation for such a -valuable and ponderous collection. I made a confidante of my daughter. -She sympathized with me, and suggested that, at any rate for a time, I -should conceal the hoard in a disused chalk-pit which lay a few hundred -yards from our house. The idea, at first sight rather wild, grew upon -me. I adopted it. Then I took this house, and gradually I have removed -my silver from the chalk-pit to Queen’s Farm. It is hidden in various -quarters of the place. We brought the last load to-night.’ - -‘This is very interesting,’ said Richard, who had nothing else to say. - -‘I have told you this,’ the old man concluded, ‘in order to account to -you for what you saw to-night in that stable. It is but just that you -should know. I thank you again for your prompt services in the matter -of the fire, and I ask you, Mr. Redgrave, to pity the infirmity--the -harmless infirmity--of an old man.’ - -Raphael Craig stood up and gazed at Richard with his deep-set melancholy -eyes. - -‘It is an infirmity which draws suspicion upon this house as a magnet -draws iron. Once already I have had the local police up here making -stupid inquiries. I put them off as well as I could. Daily I am -expecting that the directors of the bank will call me up to explain my -conduct. Yet I cannot do otherwise.’ - -‘Why,’ said Richard, ‘if you are rich, do you still care to serve the -bank? Pardon my impertinence, but, surely, if you left the bank one -source of your apprehensions would be stopped?’ - -‘I cannot leave the bank,’ said Raphael Craig, with solemn pathos; ‘it -would break my heart.’ - -With these words he sank back into a chair, and appeared to be lost in -thought So the two sat for some time. Then Richard rose and went quietly -towards the door. - -‘You are the only person, save Teresa, who knows my secret. Remember -that, Mr. Redgrave.’ - -The manager’s voice sounded weak and distant. Richard bowed and stole -from the room. He sucked at his cigar, but it had gone out. - - - - -CHAPTER VII--NOLAN - -Very quietly he sauntered to the front-door, which was ajar, and -into the portico. He stood there meditating. In front he could vaguely -discern the forms of the trees in the orchard, but beyond these nothing. -The night was as dark as a wolfs mouth. Then the sound of a horse’s -rapid hoof caught his ear. The wind had fallen, and everything was -still. Looking down the hill, he could see the light of a vehicle -ascending the slope of Watling Street. The sound of the horse’s trot -came nearer and nearer, passed the end of the boreen, and so continued -up the hill, getting fainter now, till it died entirely away as the -vehicle dipped down the gradient into Hockliffe. The vehicle was one of -her late Majesty’s mails, which took that route at that hour on Saturday -nights only. It constituted a perfectly simple weekly phenomenon, yet -somehow the birth, growth, fading, and death of the sound of the horse’s -trot on the great road affected Richard’s imagination to a singular -degree. - -‘What is my position up here now?’ he asked himself. ‘Am I to depart -an unconfessed spy, without another word to Raphael Craig or Teresa, -or--what?’ - -The old man’s recital had touched him, and Teresa’s swoon had decidedly -touched him more. - -He strolled very leisurely down the drive, staring about him. Then, with -senses suddenly alert, he whispered: - -‘Come out, there. I see you quite well.’ Micky was hiding in the bushes -under the drawing-room window. The little man obeyed complacently -enough. - -‘Come out into the road with me, Mike; I want to have a chat with you.’ - -Richard had sufficient tact not to put any sign of reproof or anger into -his tone. He accepted Micky’s spying as a thing of course. They walked -along the boreen together and up the high-road towards Hockliffe. - -‘Now,’ said Richard, ‘we can talk at our ease here; we shan’t be -overheard.’ - -‘What does your honour want to talk about?’ asked Micky, with a great -air of innocence. - -‘You can drop the “your honour,” and all that rigmarole, my friend, and -tell me who you really are. To prevent any unnecessary untruths, I may -as well tell you at the start that I found Goron’s Memoirs in the pocket -of your coat in the harness-room yesterday morning. From that moment I -knew you were playing a part here.’ - -‘Like you,’ said Micky quickly. - -‘Yes--if it pleases you--like me. What I want to know is, are you a -detective?’ - -‘And what I want to know is,’ said Micky, who had abandoned most of his -Irish accent, ‘what are you?’ - -‘Let us not beat about the bush,’ said Richard impatiently. ‘You’re a -decent chap, so am I. I will begin by confessing that I am a private -inquiry agent employed by the British and Scottish Bank.’ - -‘Oh,’ said Micky, ‘I knew it was something of that sort Have you ever -heard of a detective named Nolan?’ - -‘What! _the_ Nolan?’ asked Richard. - -‘The same,’ said Micky. - -‘You are Nolan?’ - -‘I have the honour--or the dishonour.’ - -‘I am glad to meet you,’ said Richard. ‘Of course, I know you well by -reputation. How thoroughly you go into an affair! Fancy you acting as -odd man here for weeks! I tell you you have completely imposed on them.’ - -‘Have I?’ exclaimed Micky--or Nolan, as he must now be called. ‘I should -be glad to be assured of that. Twice to-day I have feared that Raphael -Craig had his doubts of me.’ - -‘I don’t think so for a moment,’ said Richard positively. ‘But what -is your object--what is Scotland Yard after? Personally, I came here -without any theories, on the chance of something turning up.’ - -‘Scotland Yard is merely curious about the suicide--if it was a -suicide--of a man named Featherstone, and about the plague of silver -which has visited this district during the last year or two.’ - -‘You say “if it was a suicide.” Do you suspect that Featherstone’s death -was due to anything else?’ - -‘I never suspect until I know, Mr. Redgrave. I am here with an open -mind.’ - -‘And what have you discovered so far?’ asked Richard. - -‘My very dear sir,’ Nolan expostulated, ‘what do you take me for? I -am sure that you are a man of unimpeachable honour--all private agents -are--but, nevertheless, I cannot proclaim my discoveries to a stranger. -It would be a breach of etiquette to do so, even if such a course were -not indiscreet.’ - -‘I give you my word, Mr. Nolan, that my activity in this case is now -entirely at an end. I have found out this evening all that I wished to -know, and perhaps more than I wished to know. I shall return to town on -Monday morning, and Bedfordshire will know me no more.’ He paused, and -added: ‘At least, it will know me no more as a private inquiry agent.’ - -‘Or motor-car expert,’ said Nolan. - -Richard laughed. - -‘I was merely asking you,’ Richard resumed, ‘how far you had got, in the -hope that possibly I might be able to simplify matters for you.’ - -‘You are very good,’ said Nolan, with an indescribable accent of -irony--a bantering tone which, however, was so good-humoured that -Richard could not take exception to it--‘you are very good.’ - -‘You have found out, I presume, something concerning the chalk-pit?’ - -‘Oh yes,’ said Nolan, ‘I have found out something concerning the -chalk-pit.’ - -‘And you know what the crash Was early this morning?’ - -‘I have a notion,’ said Nolan. - -‘And, since I saw your inquisitive face at the window of that stable -to-night, you know what that stable contains?’ - -‘Not quite to half-a-crown,’ said Nolan, but approximately.’ - -‘By the way,’ Richard asked, ‘why on earth didn’t you come and assist in -putting out the fire?’ - -‘What! And give myself away?’ - -‘It might have been a matter of life and death.’ - -‘Yes, it might have been. Had it got so far, I dare say I should have -sacrificed my standing here, my reputation with these people as a simple -Irishman, in order to save them. But I knew that you were there, and -that you would do all that was necessary.’ - -‘I only just got into the place in time,’ said Richard sharply. - -‘Yes. It is a pity that you burnt your hands.’ - -‘How do you know that I burnt my hands?’ Richard asked. - -‘I can tell by the way you hold them,’ said Nolan. - -‘It was worth it,’ said Richard. - -‘Was it?’ observed Nolan quietly. ‘I am glad. Of course, now that you -have found out everything----’ - -He drew up standing in the road. His voice showed that Richard had made -some little impression on that great man from Scotland Yard. - -‘Admit first,’ said Richard, his eyes twinkling through the gold-rimmed -spectacles, ‘that you were guilty of the grossest indiscretion--not to -say stupidity--in leaving Goron’s Memoirs, a yellow-covered French book, -lying about the harness-room--you, an Irish labourer.’ - -‘I admit that in that matter I was an inconceivable ass,’ said Nolan -cheerfully. - -‘Good!’ said Richard; ‘you shall have your reward.’ - -Then Richard told him all that he had learnt from the lips of Raphael -Craig. There was a silence when he had finished. - -‘Yes,’ said Nolan, ‘it’s rather an impressive story; it impresses even -me. But do you believe it?’ - -‘I believe what Craig told me. If he lied, he is the finest actor I ever -saw.’ - -‘Listen,’ said Nolan. ‘Does this tale of Craig’s explain his daughter’s -visit to Bosco’s circus and her chat with Juana, and her unblushing fibs -to you afterwards?’ - -‘How did you hear about that?’ questioned Richard savagely. - -He scarcely liked Nolan’s curt language in regard to Teresa. - -‘I did hear about it,’ said Nolan; ‘let that suffice. And listen -further. I will make you a present of a fact--an absolutely indisputable -fact--which I have discovered: Raphael Craig never had an uncle. His -father was an only son. Moreover, no person has died within the last -few years who could by any means be related to Craig. The records at -Somerset House have been thoroughly searched.’ - -‘No uncle!’ was all Richard, the nonplussed, could murmur. - -‘And,’ Nolan continued, ‘while I am about it, I will make you a present -of another little fact. You say that Craig told you that he had brought -all his silver here, the last load having arrived to-night. On the -contrary, he has gradually been taking silver away from here, I admit -that he has brought some, but he has carted far more away. For what else -should he need all this generous supply of motorcars?’ - -Richard began to suspect that he had mistaken his vocation. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII--THE PEER’S ADVICE - -On the Monday morning Richard presented himself at Queen’s Farm. The -day was jocund, the landscape smiled; in the forty-acre field below -the house a steam-plough, actuated by two enormous engines and a steel -hawser, was working at the bidding of a farmer who farmed on principles -of his own, and liked to do his ploughing at midsummer. The steam-plough -rattled and jarred and jolted like a humorous and high-spirited -leviathan; the birds sang merrily above it; the Chiltem Hills stretched -away in the far distance, bathed in limitless glad sunshine; and Watling -Street ran white, dazzling, and serene, down the near slope and up the -hill towards Dunstable, curtained in the dust of rural traffic. - -In the midst of all these things joyous and content, behold Richard, -melancholy and full of discontent, ringing at the front-door bell of -Queen’s Farm. He rang and rang again, but there was no answer. It was -after eight o’clock, yet not a blind had been drawn up; and the people -of the house had told him that they took breakfast at seven o’clock! -Richard had passed a wretched week-end in the village of Hockliffe, his -one solace having been another chat with Mr. Puddephatt, wine-merchant -and horse-dealer to the nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood. He -was at a loss what to do. What, indeed, could he do? The last words -of Nolan, the detective, had given him pause, hinting, as they did, at -strange mysteries still unsolved. Supposing that he, Richard, continued -his investigations and discovered some sinister secret--some crime? -The point was that Teresa was almost certainly involved in her father’s -schemes. Here was the difficulty which troubled him. His fancy pictured -a court of justice, and Raphael Craig and Teresa in the dock, and -Richard Redgrave giving evidence against them, explaining how he had -spied upon them, dogged their footsteps, and ultimately arrived at the -heart of the mystery. Could he do that? Could he look Teresa in the -face? And yet, what, after all, was Teresa to him--Teresa, whom he had -known only three days? - -That was the question--what was Teresa to him? - -He rang again, and the jangle of the bell reverberated as though through -a deserted dwelling. Then he walked round the house by the garden, in -the hope of encountering Micky, otherwise Mr. Nolan of Scotland Yard. -But not a sign of Mr. Nolan could he see anywhere. The stable-door was -unlocked; the mares were contentedly at work on a morning repast of -crushed oats, followed by clover-hay, but there was no Micky. He began -to think that perhaps Nolan knew a great deal more than he had chosen -to tell during that night walk along Watling Street. Perhaps Nolan -had returned to Scotland Yard armed with all the evidence necessary to -conduct a magnificent _cause célèbre_ to a successful conclusion. He -could see the posters of the evening papers: ‘Extraordinary Affair in -Bedfordshire: A Bank Manager and his Daughter charged with----’ - -Charged with what? - -Pooh! When he recalled the dignified and absolutely sincere air of -Raphael Craig at their interview in the drawing-room in the early hours -of Sunday morning, when he recalled the words of the white-haired man, -uttered with an appealing glance from under those massive brows: ‘I ask -you, Mr. Redgrave, to pity the infirmity, the harmless infirmity, of an -old man’--when he recalled these words, and the manner of the speaker, -he could not but think that Nolan must be on an absolutely false scent; -he could not but believe that the Craigs were honest and innocent. - -He at last got round to the kitchen-door of the house and knocked. The -door was immediately opened--or, rather, half opened--by Mrs. Bridget, -who put her head in the small aperture thus made after the manner of -certain women. She merely looked at him severely, without uttering a -word. - -‘I wish to see Mr. Craig,’ he said calmly. - -‘I was to tell ye the motor-car is in the shed, and ye are kindly to -deliver it at Williamson’s.’ - -This was her reply. - -‘Mr. Craig is not up, then? Miss Craig----’ - -‘I was to tell ye the motor-car is in the shed, and ye are kindly to -deliver it at Williamson’s.’ - -‘Thank you. I perfectly understand,’ said Richard. ‘Miss Craig, I hope, -is fully recovered?’ - -‘I was to tell ye the motor-car----’ - -Thinking that this extraordinary Irishwoman was scarcely in full -possession of her wits that morning, Richard turned away, and proceeded -to the shed where the motor-cars were kept. The Panhard, he found, was -ready for action, its petrol-tank duly filled, its bearings oiled, its -brasswork polished. He sprang aboard and set off down the boreen. As -he passed the house, gazing at it, one of the drawn blinds on the -first-floor seemed to twitch aside and then fall straight again. Or was -it his imagination? - -He turned into Watling Street, and then, on the slope, set the car to -its best pace. He reached the valley in a whirl of dust at a speed of -forty miles an hour. The great road stretched invitingly ahead. His -spirits rose. He seemed to recover somewhat from the influence of the -mysteries of Queen’s Farm. - -‘I’ll chuck it,’ he shouted to himself above the noise of the flying -car--‘that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go and tell Lord Dolmer this very -morning that I can’t do anything, and prefer to waste no more time on -the affair.’ - -After that he laughed, also to himself, and swerved the car neatly to -avoid half a brick which lay in the middle of the road. It was at -that moment that he perceived, some distance in front, his friend Mr. -Puddephatt. Mr. Puddephatt was apparently walking to Dunstable. Richard -overtook him and drew up. - -‘Let me give you a lift,’ said Richard. - -[Illustration: 0126] - -Mr. Puddephatt surveyed the Panhard askance. - -‘Let you give me a lift?’ Mr. Puddephatt repeated. It was his habit to -repeat the exact words of an interlocutor before giving a reply. ‘No, -thanks,’ said he. ‘I’m walking to Dunstable Station for exercise.’ - -‘What are you going to Dunstable Station for?’ asked Richard. - -‘I’m for Lunnon--horse sale at the Elephant and Castle. Perhaps you know -the Elephant and Castle, sir?’ - -‘I’ll give you a lift to London, if you like,’ said Richard, seizing the -chance of companionship, of which he was badly in need. ‘We shall get -there quite as soon as your train.’ - -Mr. Puddephatt eyed the car suspiciously. He had no sympathy with -motor-cars. - -‘Are you afraid?’ asked Richard. - -‘Am I afraid?’ he repeated. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I ain’t afraid. But I’d -sooner be behind a three-year-old than behind one of them things. But -I’ll try it and see how I like it. And thank ye, sir.’ - -So Mr. Puddephatt journeyed with Richard to London. - -Perhaps it was fate that induced Mr. Puddephatt, when they had discussed -the weather, horses, motor-cars, steam-ploughs, wine, parish councils, -London, and daily papers, to turn the conversation on to the subject of -the Craigs. Mr. Puddephatt had had many and various dealings with -the Craigs, and he recounted to Richard the whole of them, one after -another, in detail. It seemed, from his narrative, that he had again and -again, from sheer good-nature, saved the Craigs from the rapacity and -unscrupulousness of the village community. - -‘Nice young lady, that Miss Teresa,’ observed Mr. Puddephatt. - -‘Yes,’ said Richard. - -By this time they had passed through St. Albans and were well on the way -to Edgware. - -‘They do say,’ said Mr. Puddephatt, leaning back luxuriously against the -cushions--‘they do say as she isn’t his daughter--not rightly.’ - -‘They say what?’ asked Richard quietly, all alert, but not choosing to -seem so. - -Mr. Puddephatt reaffirmed his statement. - -‘Who says that?’ asked Richard. - -‘Oh!’ said Mr. Puddephatt, ‘I dare say it isn’t true. But it’s gotten -about the village. Ye never know how them tales begin. I dare say it -isn’t true. Bless ye, there’s lots o’ tales.’ - -‘Oh, indeed!’ Richard remarked sagaciously. - -‘Ay!’ said Mr. Puddephatt, filling his pipe, ‘lots o’ tales. That night -as she ran away from the farm, and Mrs. Bridget had to fetch her back -from the White Horse---- Everybody said as how the old man ill-treated -her, daughter or no daughter.’ - -‘When was that? - -‘A few weeks back,’ said Mr. Puddephatt laconically. - -This was all he would say. - -‘It’s a queer world, Mr. Puddephatt,’ said Richard aloud. To himself -he said: ‘Then perhaps she isn’t involved with her father--if he is her -father.’ - -At length they reached the suburbs of London and had to moderate -their speed. As they wound in and out through the traffic of Kilburn, -Richard’s eye chanced to catch the sign of the British and Scottish -Bank. He drew up opposite the mahogany doors of the bank and, leaving -Mr. Puddephatt in charge of the car, entered. It was turned ten o’clock. -He felt fairly certain that Raphael Craig had not left Queen’s Farm, but -he wanted to convince himself that the bank manager was not always so -impeccably prompt at business as some people said. - -‘I wish to see Mr. Craig,’ he said, just as he had said two hours before -to Mrs. Bridget. - -‘Mr. Craig,’ said the clerk, ‘is at present taking his annual holiday. -He will return to business in a fortnight’s time.’ - -Richard returned to the car curiously annoyed, with a sense of being -baffled. His thoughts ran back to Teresa. Thirty miles of Watling Street -now separated them, yet her image was more strenuously before him than -it had been at any time since she fainted in the silver-heaped stable on -Saturday night. - -‘Yes,’ he said to himself positively, ‘I’ll call on Lord Dolmer at once, -and tell him I won’t have anything further to do with the affair.’ - -He dropped Mr. Puddephatt, whose society, he felt, was perhaps growing -rather tedious to him, at Oxford Circus, and directed him to an omnibus -for the Elephant and Castle. - -‘My address is 4, Adelphi Terrace, in case you need a friend in London -at any time,’ said Richard. - -‘Good-day to ye, sir,’ said Mr. Puddephatt, ‘and thank ye kindly. Shall -we be seeing you again at Hockliffe soon?’ - -‘No,’ said Richard shortly. ‘I am not likely ever to come to Hockliffe. -My business there is absolutely concluded.’ - -They shook hands, full of goodwill. As Mr. Puddephatt’s burly and rustic -form faded away into the crowd Richard watched it, and thought how -strange, and, indeed, pathetic, it was that two human beings should -casually meet, become in a measure intimate, and then part for evermore, -lost to each other in the mazy wilderness of an immense civilization. - -He drove the car to Holborn Viaduct, deposited it on the Williamson -Company’s premises, and then took a bus for Piccadilly. As he did so it -began to rain, at first gently, then with a more determined steadiness: -a spell of fine weather which had lasted for several weeks was at last -broken. - -In less than half an hour he was at Lord Dolmer’s door in Half-Moon -Street. - -This nobleman, as has been stated, was comparatively a poor man. -Emphasis must now be laid on that word ‘comparatively.’ The baron had a -thousand a year of his own in stocks, and a small property in Yorkshire -which brought in a trifle less than nothing a year, after all the -outgoings were paid. His appointments in the City yielded him fifteen -hundred a year. So that his net income was a trifle less than two -thousand five hundred pounds per annum. He was thus removed from the -fear of absolute starvation. The peerage was not an ancient one--Lord -Dolmer was only the second baron--but the blood was aristocratic; it had -run in the veins of generations of men who knew how to live and how to -enjoy themselves. Lord Dolmer had discreetly remained a bachelor, and, -in the common phrase, ‘he did himself uncommonly well.’ He had a suite -of finely-furnished rooms in Half-Moon Street, and his domestic staff -there consisted of a valet, who was also butler and confidential -factotum; a boy, who fulfilled the functions of a ‘tiger,’ and employed -his leisure hours in not cleaning knives and boots; a housekeeper, -who wore black silk and guarded the secret of her age; and two women -servants. It was the valet who answered to Richard’s masterful ring; the -valet’s name was Simpkin. - -‘Lord Dolmer at home?’ asked Richard. - -‘Yes, sir,’ said Simpkin amicably; ‘his lord-ship is at breakfast.’ - -It was just upon eleven o’clock. - -‘I’ll tell him you’re here, sir,’ said Simpkin. - -In another moment Richard was greeting the second Baron Dolmer in the -dining-room, a stylish little apartment trimmed with oak. Lord Dolmer -breakfasted in the Continental fashion, taking coffee at eight, and -déjeuner about eleven. He had the habit of smoking during a meal, and -the border of his plate, which held the remains of a kidney, showed -a couple of cigarette-ends. He gave Richard a cigarette from his gold -case, and Simpkin supplemented this hospitality with a glass of adorable -and unique sherry. - -‘We will deprive ourselves of your presence, Simpkin,’ said Lord Dolmer, -who, a very simple and good-natured man at heart, had nevertheless these -little affectations. - -‘Certainly, sir,’ said the privileged Simpkin, who liked to hear his -master use these extraordinary phrases. - -‘And now, Redgrave, what is it? You pride yourself, I know, on your -inscrutable features, but I perceive that there is something up.’ - -‘Well,’ said Richard, ‘it’s about that Craig affair. I thought I’d just -call and tell you privately that I can’t do anything. I should like, if -you and Mr. Lock don’t object, to retire from it.’ - -‘Singular!’ exclaimed Lord Dolmer mildly--, ‘highly singular! Tell me -the details, my friend.’ - -Richard, rather to his own surprise, began to tell the story, omitting, -however, all reference to Micky, the detective. - -‘And do you believe Mr. Raphael Craig’s tale?’ asked Lord Dolmer. ‘It -seems to me scarcely to fit in with some of the facts which you have -related.’ - -Richard took breath. - -‘No, I don’t,’ he said plumply. - -‘And yet you prefer to go no further?’ - -‘And yet I prefer to go no further.’ - -‘And this Teresa, who frequents circuses and chalk-pits, and faints at -midnight--what sort of a girl is she?’ - -‘Miss Craig is a very beautiful woman,’ said Richard stiffly. - -He tried hard to speak in a natural tone of voice, but failed. - -‘She has bewitched you, Redgrave,’ said Lord Dolmer. ‘It is a clear -case. She has bewitched you. This won’t do at all--my unimpressionable -Redgrave knocked over by a country girl of nineteen or so!’ - -He rubbed his hands together, and then lighted another cigarette. - -Richard pulled himself together, and replied, smiling: - -‘Not at all.... But really, Lord Dolmer, I want to throw the thing up. -So far from Miss Craig having bewitched me, I shall, in all probability, -never see her again.’ - -‘I see--a heroic sacrifice! Well, I will tell Mr. Simon Lock... what -shall I tell him?’ - -‘Tell him I have discovered nothing definite, and own myself beaten as -regards finding out the true origin of Raphael Craig’s eccentricities. -But tell him, also, that I am convinced that Raphael Craig is nothing -worse than eccentric.’ Richard paused, and repeated: ‘Yes, nothing worse -than eccentric.’ - -‘No, Redgrave, I won’t tell him that you are convinced of that.’ - -‘And why not?’ - -‘Because, forgive me, I am convinced that you are not convinced of it.’ - -There was an interval of silence, during which two spirals of smoke -ascended gracefully to the panelled ceiling of Lord Dolmer’s diningroom. - -‘Perhaps I am not,’ Richard answered calmly. ‘Tell Simon Lock what you -like, then, only make it plain that I retire. I ask no fee, since I -have earned none. I wash my hands of the whole business. I am within my -rights in so doing.’ - -‘Certainly you are within your rights,’ said Lord Dolmer. ‘And d’you -know, Redgrave, I am rather glad that you are retiring from the case.’ - -‘Why?’ - -‘If I tell you my reason you will regard it as strictly confidential?’ - -Richard assented. - -‘It is this: Mr. Simon Lock has a mysterious animus against Raphael -Craig; what the cause of that animus is neither I nor any of the other -directors can guess, but it exists. (Remember, all this is between -friends.) It is Mr. Lock who has forced on this secret inquiry. The -other directors were against a proceeding which is rather underhand and -contrary to the best traditions of the bank. But Mr. Simon Lock had his -way.’ Here Lord Dolmer lighted another cigarette and resumed. ‘I ask -you, Why should the bank interfere? A bank manager has a perfect right -to live where he likes, and, outside office hours, to do what he -likes, so long as he obeys the laws of the country and the laws of -respectability. Mr. Lock laid stress on the fact that Raphael Craig -had been fined for furious motor-car driving. But what of that? It is a -misfortune which may overtake the wisest of us. You, my dear Redgrave, -well know that even I have several times only narrowly escaped the same -ignominious fate. The fact is--and I tell you this candidly--there is -something between Mr. Simon Lock and Raphael Craig. When Mr. Lock joined -the Board one of his first actions was to suggest that Craig should be -asked to resign--why, no one knows. Craig is one of the most able bank -managers in London. He would long since have been promoted to a superior -post but for Mr. Simon Lock’s consistent opposition. For these reasons, -as I say, I am glad that you have retired from the case. For anything -I know Raphael Craig may be one of the biggest scoundrels at large. I -don’t care. The point is that he has not been fairly treated by us--that -is to say, by Simon Lock. I have the honour to be an Englishman, and -fair play is my creed.’ His lordship was silent for a space, and then -he said, by way of finale, ‘Of course, I rely absolutely upon your -discretion, Redgrave.’ - -Richard nodded. - -‘What you say is very interesting,’ he remarked. ‘It is conceivable, -then, that Mr. Lock, not to be daunted by my defection, may insist on -employing another private detective?’ - -‘Quite conceivable,’ Lord Dolmer admitted. - -‘In that case,’ Richard began, and then stopped. - -‘What?’ asked Lord Dolmer. - -‘Oh, nothing!’ said Richard. - -Lord Dolmer smiled, and, still smiling, said: - -‘One word of advice, my friend: forget her.’ - -‘Why?’ Richard questioned absently, and bit his lip. - -‘Forget her,’ repeated the Baron. - - - - -CHAPTER IX--A VISIT - -Well, he determined, with the ferocious resoluteness of a dogged soul, -to follow Lord Dolmer’s advice. He said to himself that there ought to -be no special difficulty in doing so, since only three days had passed -since he first saw this creature whom he was enjoined to forget. -He walked slowly along Piccadilly, down Regent Street, and through -Trafalgar Square to his little office in Adelphi Terrace. Some trifling -business awaited him there, and this occupied him till the hour of -luncheon. He then went out and lunched, as his custom was, at Gatti’s. - -Richard’s usual mode of life was extremely simple. His office, a single -small room, was on the third-floor of No. 4, Adelphi Terrace. On the -fourth-floor he had a bedroom, rather larger than the office, and quite -commodious enough for the uses of a young bachelor who had no fancy -tastes. When occasion needed he used the office as a sitting-room. -All his meals he took out of doors. His breakfasts, which cost him -fourpence, he consumed at a vegetarian restaurant hard by; his -luncheons and dinners were eaten at Gatti’s. Frequently at the latter -establishment he would be content with a dish of macaroni and half a -pint of bitter, at an expenditure of eightpence--a satisfying repast. -His total expenses were thus very small, and hence, although his income -was irregular and fluctuating, he nevertheless continually saved money. -It was seldom that less than one hundred pounds stood between him and -the workhouse. In case of necessity he could have lived for a whole -year, or even two years, on one hundred pounds. So he was always in an -independent position. He could always afford not to bend the knee to any -employer or client. He was, in fact, just what he looked, a shrewd and -confident man, successful and well dressed, who knew how to take care of -himself. He spent more on his wardrobe than on anything else, and this, -not because he was a coxcomb, but from purely commercial motives. He -accepted the world as he found the world, and he had learnt that clothes -counted. - -All afternoon he did nothing but idle about in his office, wondering -whether by that time Lord Dolmer had told Simon Lock of the barren -result of his inquiries, and wondering also what the upshot of their -interview would be. At seven he dined at Gatti’s. At eight he returned -to Adelphi Terrace, and ascended directly to his bedroom. Opening the -window wide, he placed an easy-chair in front of it, lighted a pipe, and -sat down to perpend upon things in general. - -Richard had chosen this bedroom because of its view. It looked out at an -angle on the river Thames, stateliest and most romantic of busy streams. -It is doubtful if any capital in Europe, unless it be Buda-Pesth, the -twin city on the blue Danube, can show a scene equal in beauty to the -Thames Embankment and the Thames when the hues and mysteries of sunset -are upon them. This particular evening was more than commonly splendid, -for after a day of heavy rain the clouds had retreated, and the sun -burst out in richest radiance. The red jury-sails of the barges as they -floated up-stream with the flowing tide took on the tints of the ruby. -The vast masonry of Waterloo Bridge and of Somerset House seemed like -gigantic and strange temples uncannily suspended over the surface of -the glooming water. In the west Westminster Bridge and the Houses of -Parliament stood silhouetted in profound black against the occidental -sky. The sky was like Joseph’s coat there, but in the east it was like a -maiden’s scarf. - -Up from the Embankment rose the hum and roar and rattle of London’s -ceaseless traffic. The hansoms had lighted their starry lamps, and they -flitted below like fireflies in the shadows of a wood. No stranger could -have guessed that they were mere hackney vehicles plying at the fixed -rate of two miles for one shilling, and sixpence for every subsequent -mile or part of a mile. - -‘Yes,’ Richard mused, ‘this is all very well, and I am enjoying it, and -nothing could be very much better; but the fact remains that I haven’t -earned a cent this blessed day. The fact also remains that I am a bit of -a frost. Further, and thirdly, the fact remains that the present state -of affairs must be immediately altered.’ - -His pipe went out. - -‘I’ll look in at the Empire,’ he said. - -Now, by what process of reasoning a young man who, on his own -confession, had drawn a blank day could arrive at the conclusion that -the proper thing to do was to go to the Empire we cannot explain. But so -it was. He looked at his watch. The hour was nine-fifteen. Half an hour -yet, for no self-respecting man-about-town ever thinks of entering the -Empire before a quarter to ten! At this point Richard probably fell -into a doze. At any rate, a knock on his bedroom-door had to be repeated -several times before it attracted his attention. - -‘What is it?’ he answered at length. - -‘A person to see you, sir,’ said a feminine voice, not without asperity. - -‘A person to see me! Oh! ah! er!... Show him into the office. I’ll be -down directly.’ - -He descended to the third-floor, and, instead of the Somerset House -acquaintance whom he had expected, he found the very last person that by -all the laws of chance ought to have been in his office--he found Mrs. -Bridget. - -Mrs. Bridget turned round and faced him as he went into the -little paper-strewn room. She was dressed in black alpaca, with a -curiously-shaped flat black bonnet. Her hands, which were decently -covered with black gloves, she held folded in front of her. - -Richard said nothing at first. He was too astounded, and--shall we -say?--pleased. He scented what the reporters call ‘further revelations’ -of an interesting nature. - -‘Good-avenin’,’ said Bridget; ‘and can ye see a lady privately?’ - -‘Certainly,’ said Richard, ‘I can see you privately; but,’ he added, -with a mischievous smile, ‘I’m afraid our interview won’t amount to much -unless you’re more communicative than you were this morning.’ - -‘Bless and save ye, sir! ’tis not meself that wants ye--’tis her.’ - -‘Her?’ - -‘The misthress sent me up to find out whisht whether ye could be seen.’ - -‘Miss Craig is outside?’ - -‘The same, sir. Ye’ll see her?’ - -‘See her? Naturally I will see her. But--but--how did you discover my -address?’ - -By this time they were hurrying down the multitudinous steps to the -ground-floor. - -‘Sure, we called at the Williamson Company, and they said you’d left and -they didn’t know your address. And then we came out, and who should we -see but Mr. Puddephatt leading a pony. ’Twas the Virgin’s own miracle! -“Hullo!” he says, lifting his hat. - -“Puddephatt,” says my mistress----’ - -The recital was never finished, for at that moment they reached the -front-door. In the roadway stood the Décauville motor with lights -gleaming. By the side of the Décauville stood Teresa Craig enveloped in -a gray mackintosh. - -Richard’s face showed his intense pleasure at the most unlooked-for -encounter. - -‘Miss Craig,’ he said eagerly, ‘I hope you are in no trouble. Can I be -of any assistance?’ - -She glanced at him coldly, inimically. - -‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she replied with bitterness, and then looked about--the -little street was deserted--‘I have come to seek an explanation from -you. If you are an honourable man you will give it. And I have come, -much against my inclination, to ask a favour. Bridget, take care of the -motor.’ - -She swept imperially before him into the portals of the house. - -‘Mr. Redgrave,’ said Teresa, in a tone which clearly indicated that she -meant to lead the conversation, ‘we have not seen each other since I was -so foolish as to faint in the--the shed.’ - -They sat together in Richard’s little office. It was not without -difficulty that he had induced her even to sit down. Her demeanour was -hostile. Her fine, imperious face had a stormy and implacable look--a -look almost resentful, and Richard felt something of a culprit before -that gaze. He met her eyes, however, with such bravery as he could -muster. - -‘Not since then,’ he assented. ‘I trust you are fully recovered, Miss -Craig.’ - -Ignoring the utterance of this polite hope, she resumed: - -‘I have to thank you for the service you rendered on Saturday night.’ - -‘It was nothing,’ he said, in a voice as cold and formal as her own. - -‘It was everything,’ she corrected him gravely. ‘I might have lost my -life but for you.’ - -‘I am happy to have been of any assistance,’ he said. But his thoughts -ran: ‘She hasn’t come to London to tell me this. What the deuce, then, -has she come for?’ - -‘Bridget tells me you had an interview with my father that night. May I -ask what passed?’ Teresa continued. - -‘You have not seen your father since then?’ said Richard. - -‘I have not.’ Her voice seemed momentarily to break. - -‘Or doubtless he would have told you?’ - -‘Doubtless.’ - -Richard determined to try a bold stroke. - -‘I understood from Mr. Craig that he wished our interview to be strictly -confidential.’ - -‘What?’ she cried. ‘From me? From his daughter?’ - -She stood up, suddenly angry. - -‘If, indeed, you are his daughter,’ said Richard quietly. - -Her eyes blazed, and her hands shook; but she collected herself, and -smiled bitterly: - -‘You, then, have heard that silly rumour?’ - -‘By chance I heard it,’ he admitted. - -‘And you believe it?’ - -‘I neither believe it nor disbelieve it. What has it to do with me?’ - -‘Exactly,’ she said; ‘a very proper question. What has it to do with -you? Listen, Mr. Redgrave. I have the most serious reasons for asking -you to tell me what passed between yourself and my father on Saturday -night.’ - -A look of feminine appeal passed swiftly across her features. Fleeting -as it was, it sufficed to conquer Richard. A minute ago he had meant to -dominate her. Now he was dominated. - -‘I will tell you,’ he said simply, and told her--told her everthing -without any reservation. - -‘Then my father did not accuse you of being a professional spy?’ she -demanded when Richard had finished. - -‘No,’ said Richard, somewhat abashed. - -‘He did not accuse you of having entered our house under entirely false -pretences?’ - -‘No,’ said Richard, still more abashed. - -There was a silence. - -‘I wonder,’ she said calmly, glancing out of the window, ‘I wonder why -he did not.’ - -She made the remark as though she were speculating privately upon a -curious but not very important point. - -‘Miss Craig!’ he exclaimed, with an air of being affronted. - -I read in a famous book the other day,’ she went on, ‘these words: “A -murderer is less loathsome to us than a spy. The murderer may have acted -on a sudden mad impulse; he may be penitent and amend; but a spy is -always a spy, night and day, in bed, at table, as he walks abroad; his -vileness pervades every moment of his life.”’ - -‘Do you mean to insinuate,’ said Richard, forced to defend himself, -‘that I am a professional spy?’ - -‘I not only mean to insinuate it, I mean to assert it,’ she announced -loftily, and then continued more quickly: ‘Mr. Redgrave, why did you -come to spy on us? For two whole days I trusted you, and I liked you. -But that night, as soon as I saw you behind me in the shed, the truth -burst upon me. It was that, more than anything else, that caused me -to faint. Why did you do it, Mr. Redgrave? My father liked you; -I--I--I----’ She stopped for a moment. ‘Surely a man of your talents -could have found a profession more honourable than that of a spy?’ - -She looked at him, less angry than reproachful. - -‘I am a private detective,’ said Richard sullenly, ‘not a spy. My -business is perfectly respectable.’ - -‘Why trouble to play with words?’ she exclaimed impatiently. ‘We took -you for a gentleman. In our simplicity we took you for a gentleman.’ - -‘Which I trust I am,’ said Richard. - -‘Prove it!’ she cried. - -‘I will prove it in any manner you choose.’ - -‘I accept your promise,’ she said. ‘I have travelled up to London -to make an appeal to you to abandon this inquiry which you have -undertaken--at whose instance I know not.’ - -‘I cannot abandon it now,’ he said mischievously. - -‘Why?’ she queried. - -‘Question for question,’ he retorted. ‘How did you discover that I was a -professional spy, as you call it?’ - -‘Bah!’ she replied. ‘Simply by asking. When I got your address, the rest -was easy. So you decline to be a gentleman in the manner that I suggest? -I might have anticipated as much. I might have known that I was coming -to London on a fool’s errand. And yet something in your face hinted to -me that perhaps after all----’ - -‘Miss Craig,’ he said earnestly, ‘I cannot, abandon the inquiry now, -because I have already abandoned it. I came down to London this morning -with the intention of doing nothing more in the matter, and by noon -to-day I had informed my clients to that effect.’ - -‘I was not, then, mistaken in you,’ she murmured. - -To his intense astonishment there was the tremor of a sob in that proud -voice. - -‘Not entirely mistaken,’ he said, with a faint smile. - -‘What induced you to give up the business of spying upon us?’ she asked, -looking at him. - -‘How can I tell?’ he answered; ‘conscience, perhaps, though a private -detective is not supposed to possess such a thing. Perhaps I did it -because I reciprocated your sentinents towards me, Miss Craig.’ - -‘My sentiments towards you?’ - -‘Yes,’ he said audaciously. ‘You said just how that you liked me.’ - -Instead of taking offence, she positively smiled. She had the courage of -a guileless heart. - -‘And let me tell you, Miss Craig,’ he went on, and his earnestness -became passionate, ‘that I will do anything that lies in my power to -serve you. I don’t care what it is. I don’t care what trouble you are -in; count on me.’ - -‘How do you know that I am in trouble?’ - -‘I don’t know,’ he said; ‘I merely feel it Miss Craig, let me help you.’ - -‘You don’t know what you are saying,’ she replied evasively. - -He jumped up and seized her hand, the small hand, browned by summer -sunshine. - -‘Let me help you,’ he repeated. - -‘If you knew,’ she said, hiding her face, ‘what trouble I am in!’ - -He saw that she was crying. She drew away her hand impulsively. - -‘I will help you!’ he exclaimed; ‘the spy the scorned spy, insists on -helping you. No, tell me.’ - -‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘I came to London to entreat your silence and -inaction. I went about the affair in a strange and silly way, but it -happens that I have succeeded. You have promised to do nothing further. -That suffices Let me go.’ - -‘You shall not go,’ he almost shouted; ‘I tell you you shall not -go until you have confided in me. I owe you some reparation, and I -positively insist on giving it.’ - -She raised her face and gazed at him. - -‘I am the child of all misfortune,’ she said ‘as my country is the most -unfortunate of countries. Mr. Redgrave, my father has disappeared.’ - -‘Oh!’ he said, as if to say, ‘Is that all?’ - -‘And I dare not search for him.’ - -‘They told me at the bank that he had gone on his annual holiday.’ - -‘Then you inquired at the bank?’ she asked swiftly. - -‘It was my last act of spying,’ he said. ‘Why dare you not search for -your father, Miss Craig?’ - -‘Because--because I might find more than I wished to find.’ - -‘You talk in riddles,’ he said firmly. ‘We can do nothing here; let us -go back to Hockiffe. - -I will accompany you, and on the way you shall answer my questions. I -have many to put to you. Leave everything to me; imagine that I am your -brother. I have often laughed at the man’s phrase to a woman, “I would -lay down my life for you,” but at this moment I feel what it means. -Do not mistake me; do not think I am talking wildly. Perhaps I have a -better idea of your trouble than you think. But, in any case, you must -trust me as you trusted me when first you saw me. You must rely on me. -Come, let us go.’ - -She rose and moved towards the door, ‘Thanks,’ she said, nothing more -than that--‘thanks.’ - -In one part of his mind Richard wondered at himself, in another he felt -curiously and profoundly happy. - - - - -CHAPTER X--MONEY-MAKING - -They passed northwards through the night of London in the Décauville -car, Richard and Teresa side by side on the front seats, old Mrs. -Bridget in her black alpaca behind, up Regent Street, along Oxford -Street, up the interminable Edgware Road, through Kilburn, and so on to -Edgware and the open road and country. - -‘Bridget knows all my secrets, Mr. Redgrave,’ said Teresa. ‘Moreover, -she has no ears unless I wish it.’ - -‘Sure, miss,’ said Bridget, ‘more gets into my head than goes out. -’Tis for all the world like a Jew’s pocket.’ - -This fragment of conversation was caused by Richard’s sudden stoppage -in the middle or a remark about Micky, who, Teresa told him, had -disappeared concurrently with her father. - -‘What were you going to say about Micky?’ - -Teresa asked. - -‘I was going to say,’ Richard answered, ‘that things are not what they -seem.’ - -‘You mean that Micky, too, was a----’ - -She hesitated. - -‘Yes, like me, only rather more professional.’ - -‘Bridget told me this morning that she had heard poor father and Micky -at high words in the middle of last night. After that she says there was -a silence for a long time, and then father called her up and gave her -the message for you.’ - -The sentences were spoken without hesitation, and yet in a strangely -unnatural voice. - -‘You’re forgetting one little thing, miss.’ - -‘Hush, Bridget!’ Teresa exclaimed. - -‘If I am to help you I must be in possession of the facts.’ - -‘Tell him, miss; tell the gintleman, do. The gintleman is a gintleman.’ - -Teresa sat up straight in the speeding car. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you must -know. There was a revolver-shot. Bridget says she heard the sound of a -revolver-shot. Oh, Mr. Redgrave! what does it mean? I dared not tell you -of that before. If my father----’ - -She ceased. - -‘Micky has left no trace behind?’ - -‘None.’ - -‘Where did the sound of the shot come from?’ - -‘Sure, from the drawing-room, where the master always kept his -pistol-thing in the clock-case. Master and the scoundrel Micky were -talking in there.’ - -‘Suppose,’ suggested Richard, ‘that it was Micky who had a revolver.’ - -‘Then he missed his aim,’ said Bridget, ‘for the master came to me -afterwards on the upper landing as sound as a bell.’ - -‘Did he seem agitated?’ Richard asked. - -‘Not he! Why should a gintleman seem agitated because he has shot a -scoundrel?’ - -Bridget appeared to glory in the idea that Raphael Craig might indeed -have shot the Scotland Yard detective. - -‘And since then you have seen nothing of either your father or Micky?’ - -‘Nothing whatever,’ said Teresa. - -‘And you have no notion where they are?’ - -‘None; at least--no--none.’ - -‘I observed this morning,’ said Richard quietly, ‘that the new electric -car was not in the shed.’ - -‘Sure, and the master must have ridden off on it with the corpse----’ - -‘Bridget, silence!’ said Teresa imperatively. - -Richard had an uncanny vision of Raphael Craig flying from justice -on the electric car, with the corpse of a murdered detective hidden -somewhere behind. The vision struck him, though, as amusing. He could -not believe in the possibility of such a deed on the part of Raphael -Craig. Yet he could see that Bridget’s doubtless fanciful and -highly-coloured report of what had passed in the night had so worked -on Teresa’s brain, already disturbed by sinister events. He could -understand now why she had so incontinently flown to London, in the wild -hope of stopping all further inquiries into her father’s proceedings. - -The car climbed over the hill on which stands the town of St. Albans, -and then slipped easily down towards Redbourne and the twelve miles -of lonely and straight Watling Street that separates St. Albans from -Dunstable. On this interminable and monotonous stretch of road there are -only two villages; mile succeeds mile with a sort of dogged persistency, -and the nocturnal traveller becomes, as it were, hypnotized by the -ribbon-like highway that stretches eternally in front of him and behind -him. It was fortunate that the car ran well. Dunstable was reached in -forty minutes after leaving St. Albans, and then as they passed into the -mysterious cutting--resembling a Welsh mountain pass--to the north -of the ancient borough, the thoughts of all flew forward to the empty -farmhouse which Teresa and her attendant had left in the morning. As -soon as you emerge from the cutting you can, in daylight, see Queen’s -Farm quite plainly on the opposite slope of the valley, two miles away. -But at night, of course, you can see nothing of the house of Mr. Raphael -Craig unless it is lighted up. - -‘Sure, the master’s returned!’ old Mrs. Bridget exclaimed. - -A light faintly twinkled from the direction of Queen’s Farm. - -This simple phenomenon produced its effect on both Teresa and Richard. -The old man had come back, and one mystery, therefore, would at length -be solved--provided that the old man chose to open his mouth! The idea -of thus approaching a revelation somehow impressed Raphael Craig’s -daughter and her companion with a sense of awe, a sense almost of fear. -They were secretly afraid lest they might encounter something which it -would have been better not to encounter. Each in fancy pictured Raphael -Craig alone in the house engaged in a strange business. Each silently -asked the question, ‘Where is Micky?’ and answered it with a vague and -terrible surmise. The feeling that Raphael Craig was responsible for -the disappearance of Micky grew on Richard especially. At first he had -scouted it, but he gradually persuaded himself that a man like Raphael -Craig was capable of most things, even to disposing of a detective. If -Raphael Craig had indeed any criminal secret to hide, and he found -out that Micky, a Scotland Yard detective, was prying into the secret, -Richard guessed that the fate of Micky might hazardously tremble in the -balance. - -And another aspect of the affair troubled Richard. - -‘If your father has returned,’ he said to Teresa, ‘how shall I explain -my presence, or, rather, how will you explain it? It seems to me that I -scarcely know myself why I am here with you on this car. I came on -the assumption that your father was gone. His presence would make me a -rather unnecessary item, wouldn’t it?’ - -‘Who can tell?’ Teresa murmured absently; and Richard was rather -chagrined at this peculiar reply. - -The car was now down in the lowest part of the valley, and the house for -the moment out of sight. When, as the car breasted the hill, the summit -of the slope reappeared to the view, there was no light in Queen’s Farm; -the twinkling illumination was extinguished. Only the plain outline of -the house stood faintly visible under the waning moon. - -‘Perhaps father has gone to bed,’ said Teresa, with a desperate -affectation of lightness. ‘I wonder what he would think when he found -the house empty.’ - -Bridget emitted a weird sound which was between a moan and a groan. - -‘Happen ’twas a fairy light we saw,’ she said, the deep instincts of -Celtic superstition always rising thus at the slightest invitation. - -The car at length turned into the boreen, and so reached the house. The -gate was opened, and Richard dexterously twisted the car into the drive. -The house--gaunt, bare, sinister--showed no sign whatever of life. - -The three occupants of the car descended, and stood for a second within -the porch. - -‘The latch-key, Bridget,’ said Teresa curtly. Bridget produced the -latch-key, but on putting it into the keyhole Teresa discovered that the -door was already unfastened. A push, and it swung backwards, revealing -the gloom of the hall. - -‘Shall I go first?’ said Richard. - -‘If you please,’ Teresa replied eagerly, and Richard stepped within. The -women followed. - -He struck a match, which revealed a low bookcase to the left, and on -this a candle. He lighted the candle. - -‘Stay here,’ he said, ‘and I will search the house.’ - -‘Sure,’ said Bridget, ‘we’ll stand or fall together. Where you go, me -and the mistress go too.’ - -Richard could not avoid a smile. Together, then, they searched the house -from roof to cellar, and found--nothing at all. Apparently not a single -thing had been displaced or touched. What could have been the origin -of the light which they had seen? Had Mr. Craig returned only to depart -again? They stood in the hall asking these questions, which they were -unable to answer. Bridget, however, assured that there was nothing of an -unusual nature within the house, recovered her wits, and set to work to -light lamps in the hall, drawing-room, and kitchen. Richard and Teresa -were alone together in the hall. Richard, glancing idly round, stooped -down and picked from the floor a gold-handled riding-whip which lay -almost under the bookcase. It was a lady’s whip. - -‘A pretty whip,’ he remarked. ‘Yours, I suppose?’ - -Teresa went very white. - -‘It isn’t mine,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen it before. I----’ - -At that very moment there was the sound of hoofs on the gravel of the -drive. Richard started for the door, but Teresa clutched him and held -him back with an action almost mechanical. Her eyes showed apprehension, -mingled with another feeling which Richard almost thought was joy. The -hoofs came up the drive and stopped in front of the door, still ajar. -The two within the house could just discern the legs of a horse and -the skirt of a riding-habit. The rider jumped down, and then cautiously -pushed against the door. - -‘Juana!’ cried Teresa, and rushed into the arms of the newcomer. - -Richard at once recognised the equestrian of Bosco’s circus--tall, dark, -Spanish, alluring, mysterious. - -The two girls exchanged a passionate kiss, and then stood apart and -gazed at each other, Richard discreetly stopped outside and held the -horse’s bridle. In this animal he recognised the strawberry-roan mare, -also of Bosco’s circus. In a moment the two girls came out on to the -porch. - -‘Mr. Redgrave,’ said Teresa, ‘let me introduce you to my sister. She had -called here before, and, finding no one, had left. She came back for her -whip. Juana, I am in great trouble. Mr. Redgrave has very kindly come to -my assistance.’ - -Richard bowed. - -‘Come into the drawing-room,’ said Teresa, ‘You can tie the mare up to -this tree, Juana. - -‘I expect she won’t mind the car.’ - -When they were all seated in the drawing-room Richard immediately -perceived that the two girls meant, at any rate partially, to make a -confidant of him. They talked quite openly before him. - -‘Suppose father should come in?’ said the circus-girl. - -‘You must hide,’ said Teresa positively, and, turning to Richard, -she went on: ‘Mr. Redgrave, my father has not seen my sister for many -months, and there are reasons why he should not see her now. You will -understand----’ - -‘Perfectly,’ assented Richard. - -‘On the whole,’ said Juana, ‘I am quite prepared to see my--father.’ - -The door of the drawing-room burst open, and Bridget’s head appeared. - -‘Miss Teresa, there’s someone in the sheds,’ she cried. ‘I heard a noise -like that of the Banshee of MacGillicuddy. Eh! Miss Juana, and is it -yesilf I see?’ - -At sight of the circus-girl Bridget wept, but she did not leave the -vicinity of the door. - -‘Turn out every light,’ said Richard. - -No sooner had he said the word than he leapt up and extinguished the -lamp which hung from the middle of the ceiling. - -‘Run, Mrs. Bridget,’ he commanded, ‘and put out the others.’ - -Bridget departed. - -The other three went out into the porch, and at Richard’s suggestion -Juana led her mare away behind the house. They were obliged to leave the -car where it stood, since it was impossible to move it without noise. - -The house was now in darkness. Bridget had joined the rest in the porch. -They stood braced, tense, silent, waiting--waiting for they knew not -what. - -Presently was heard the ‘birr’ of the electric motor-car from the -direction of the outbuildings, and then the vehicle flashed down the -boreen at fifteen or twenty miles an hour. Owing partly to the -darkness and partly to the height of the glazed ‘cab’ of the machine, a -contrivance designed by Mr. Craig himself, the driver of the car could -not be recognised, but both Richard and Teresa thought that it could be -no other than Raphael Craig, and, further, that he was alone. Just as -the car passed Juana’s mare whinnied, and there was an answering whinny -from the orchard field where, as it afterwards appeared, Mr. Craig’s two -mares had been turned out to grass. But the car showed no inclination to -halt. - -‘Sure, the master will be after taking it away!’ Bridget exclaimed. - -‘Taking what away, Bridget?’ Juana asked. - -‘Micky’s cor----’ - -‘Silence, Bridget, you foolish creature!’ Teresa stopped her. ‘If you -can’t talk sense you must go and sit in the kitchen alone.’ - -This threat resulted in a very complete silence on the part of Bridget. - -The car turned southwards down Watling Street. - -‘He is going to the chalk-pit,’ said Richard quietly. - -‘Perhaps we had better follow discreetly and see what happens,’ said -Teresa. - -‘I was about to suggest that,’ said Richard; ‘but we ought not all to -go.’ - -‘And why not, Mr. Redgrave?’ Bridget demanded, in alarm at the prospect -of being left. - -‘Because--well, because we had better not,’ said Richard. ‘Four will -make too heavy a load for this car.’ - -‘Juana,’ said Teresa, ‘you will stay here with Bridget. Mr. Redgrave and -myself will reconnoitre, find out what we can, and return to you with as -little delay as possible.’ - -‘Very well,’ said Juana, while old Bridget sighed a sad resignation. - -In half a minute they had started and were following the car down the -road at a pace which would have been dangerous had not Watling Street -been deserted at one o’clock in the morning. The moon still shone, but -her light scarcely did more than disclose the sides of the road. The -electric car was too far ahead to be discerned. - -‘Miss Craig,’ said Richard, ‘your suspicions of what may have happened -are obviously more serious than you care to admit. We do not know the -nature of the adventure upon which we have embarked. Let me beg you to -be frank with me. So far as your knowledge goes, has Mr. Craig committed -any act, wittingly or unwittingly, which might bring him within the -meshes of the law?’ - -‘Do you mean, do I know whether he has killed Micky, the detective?’ - -‘No,’ said Richard sharply; ‘I mean no such thing. Go back earlier than -the last few days. Go back a few years, and consider. Mr. Craig told -me last night that a relative had died and left him a hundred thousand -pounds in silver.’ - -‘Yes,’ said Teresa; ‘that was Great-uncle Andrew, the man who went to -Mexico and then turned “queer.” Father has often told me of him.’ - -‘You believe that you once had a Great-uncle Andrew, who left all this -silver to your father?’ - -‘Certainly. I remember father having all the papers and things to sign, -and him fetching the money in casks on his car.’ - -‘Fetching it from where?’ - -‘Oh, I don’t know. I forget. Some place near London.’ - -‘What should you say if I told you that you never had a Great-uncle -Andrew, or that if there was such a person, he never left your father -any money?’ - -‘But we went into mourning!’ said Teresa naïvely. - -‘Possibly,’ said Richard. - -‘Do you mean to say that poor father made it all up?’ - -‘With the greatest respect for your father, Miss Craig, I suspect that -that was the case. I do not know for certain, but I suspect. Have you, -too, not had suspicions? Answer that candidly.’ - -Teresa hesitated. - -‘Yes,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But I swear to you that I believed my -father.’ - -The car went through the tiny village of Chalk Hill, and their talk was -suspended. - -Further up the road they could see the open; gate which led by a broad -field-path to the chalk-pit, the path along which Richard had seen the -elephant dragging the other motor-car two evenings ago. Richard directed -the car gently through the gate and then stopped; they dismounted, and -crossed the great field on foot. - -‘If the matter of the silver was all fair and square,’ said Richard, -‘why did your father deal with the coin so mysteriously? How did he -excuse himself to you when he asked your assistance?’ - -‘He didn’t excuse himself,’ said Teresa stiffly. - -‘I acted as he told me. I was his daughter. It was not my place to put -questions. Besides, I enjoyed the business. Remember, Mr. Redgrave, that -I am not a middle-aged woman.’ - -As they got on to the highest part of the field they saw at the far end -the dim shape of the electric car. - -They crept cautiously towards it, and saw no sign of Raphael Craig. -At length, avoiding the zigzag path that led down into the pit, they -reached the point where the chalk had been cut precipitously away. Still -moving with all possible discretion, Richard lay on his stomach and -looked over. Twenty-five feet below he saw Raphael Craig standing, -apparently in an attitude of triumph, over the prone form of Micky, -otherwise Nolan, the detective. A lantern held by Craig showed plainly -the drawn and stiffened features of the man from Scotland Yard. - -[Illustration: 0170] - -Before Richard could prevent her, Teresa had also looked over. - -‘God!’ she cried softly. ‘Is my father a----’ - -She stopped. The old man glanced mildly upwards. - -Richard and Teresa with one accord ran along the edge of the pit, and -then down the zigzag path till they stood facing Raphael Craig, the -prone body of the detective between them. - -‘What is this?’ questioned the old man coldly, pushing back the gray -hairs from his forehead. ‘Spying again?’ - -He looked intently at Richard. He seemed to ignore the silent form on -the ground. - -‘Father,’ cried Teresa, ‘if you have killed him, fly. Take the motor-car -and get away as far as you can and as fast as you can. Mr. Redgrave and -I----’ - -‘Killed him!’ Raphael Craig exclaimed. - -‘Why should I kill him? I found him lying here--here where I came to -seek him. He must have fallen over this miniature precipice.’ - -‘He isn’t dead,’ said Teresa eagerly; she had knelt beside the -detective. - -‘I did not suppose that he was. But if he had been it would have been -only a just punishment.’ - -‘Had we not better carry him to the house, sir?’ Richard suggested -quietly. - -‘As you wish,’ said Raphael. ‘It appears that you have taken charge of -our affairs.’ - -‘Mr. Redgrave is here at my urgent request, father,’ said Teresa. - -‘You!’ Raphael gazed at her hard. ‘You! Shall I curse you as I cursed -your sister?’ - -Nevertheless, he helped Richard to carry the body of the detective up -the path and into the field--a task of considerable difficulty. When -they reached the electric car they put the lifeless organism into the -back part of it. - -‘Take him,’ said Mr. Craig to Richard succinctly--‘take him off.’ - -‘And you?’ said Richard. - -‘I will follow.’ - -Richard and Teresa got into the electric car and moved off down the -field. They spoke not a word. Arrived at the house, the detective was -taken upstairs and put into a bed by the three women. The lamps had been -relighted. The little man had regained consciousness, but he was too -feeble to give any utterance to his thoughts. He pointed weakly to his -head, whereon his nurses found a lump, but no other sign of injury. They -surmised that he was suffering from concussion of the brain, how caused -they could only guess. He drank a little brandy-and-water, and lay -extended on the bed as though unwilling almost to put himself to the -exertion of breathing. - -The noise of the Décauville sounded outside. Teresa sprang to the -window. - -‘Here is father, Juana,’ she said anxiously. ‘If he should come -upstairs----’ - -‘Go down and stop him from coming upstairs. Bridget and I will attend to -this poor fellow.’ - -Her voice was charged with sympathy as she glanced at the sufferer on -the bed. The reference to himself caused the detective to open his eyes. - -‘I fell over the edge of the pit,’ he murmured faintly. ‘It was owing -to the short grass being so slippery after the rain.’ He had no Irish -accent now. - -Then he closed his eyes again. - -Teresa gave a sigh of relief as she left the room. Her father, then, was -not in thought a murderer. - -As she entered the hall from the stairs - -Raphael Craig and Richard came in through the front-door. They had -housed the two cars. - -‘Where is he?’ asked Raphael of his daughter. - -‘In the back bedroom, father. He is not seriously hurt.’ - -‘I will go up and have a look at him,’ said Raphael, actuated apparently -by mere idle curiosity. - -‘No, father, don’t!’ Teresa pleaded. ‘Bridget is looking after him, and -I believe he is just going to sleep.’ - -Raphael gave a gesture of assent - -‘And now, sir,’ he said to Richard, opening the drawing-room door, ‘a -word with you.’ - -The two men passed into the drawing-room. Raphael was closing the door -when Teresa stepped forward. - -‘I also have a word to say, father,’ she remarked firmly. - -‘Say it to me afterwards, then,’ he replied briefly. - -‘No. It is a word that must be said now.’ - -The old man, smiling slightly and ironically, pulled the door open and -allowed his daughter to enter the room. - -Raphael Craig sat down on the Chesterfield sofa, but Richard and Teresa -remained standing, Richard, for his part, determined that there should -be no beating about the bush; and he had not the least intention -of allowing the old man to put him in the wrong by asking difficult -questions. So he began at once, fixing his eyes on a greenish-coloured -newspaper that stuck out of Mr. Craig’s right-hand pocket. - -‘Mr. Craig,’ he said, ‘let me cut a long story short. I came up here a -few days ago to bring you a Williamson electric car. True, I was for the -time being a genuine employe of the Williamson Company, but that was -not my real business. I confess to you, Mr. Craig, that I am a private -inquiry agent. It was in my professional capacity that I visited your -House.’ - -‘Ah!’ said Mr. Craig. ‘You were, then, after all, a spy? I had guessed -correctly.’ - -‘Spy?’ Richard repeated calmly. ‘Yes; it is an epithet that has been -applied to me before.’ He glanced at Teresa, who met his glance fairly. -‘To continue,’ he said: ‘I have abandoned my inquiries. To be precise, I -gave up my mission this morning; therefore, since I am here again, I am -not here as a spy.’ - -‘What led you to abandon your mission, Mr. Inquiry Agent?’ asked -Raphael, stroking his gray beard. - -‘I gave it up, Mr. Craig,’ said Richard plumply, ‘out of regard for your -daughter.’ - -‘Indeed!’ Raphael remarked, with the frostiest politeness. ‘So my -daughter is fortunate enough to have won your regard?’ - -‘If you care to put it so.’ - -‘But,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘all this does not account for your presence here -to-night, Mr. Inquiry Agent.’ - -‘I am here now----’ Richard began, and then stopped. - -‘Mr. Redgrave is here now,’ Teresa said, at the same time seating -herself, ‘because I asked him to come.’ - -‘When did you ask him, girl?’ - -‘I went to London in the Décauville to Mr. Redgrave’s office, and----’ - -‘You went to London alone?’ - -The old man sprang up thunderously, and the newspaper fell out of his -pocket. Richard quietly picked it up from the floor. It was that day’s -_Westminster Gazette_. - -‘Bridget went with me,’ said Teresa, quailing before her father’s -outburst. - -It was evident from both their respective demeanours that Mr. Craig’s -temper was not one of absolute serenity. - -‘Bridget!’ sneered Raphael. ‘You went down to London to ask Mr. Redgrave -to come up to Hockliffe?’ - -‘I went to ask him to abandon his inquiries.’ - -‘But still, you brought him back with you?’ - -‘Yes.’ - -‘At one o’clock in the morning?’ - -‘Yes. But, father----’ - -‘Miss Craig was in a very awkward situation,’ said Richard. - -‘I agree with you,’ the old man interposed. - -‘And I was anxious to do anything in my power to help her.’ - -‘And you helped her by visiting this house at one o’clock in the morning -during my absence?’ - -‘Father,’ said Teresa pleadingly, ‘can’t you and I discuss that -aspect of the question afterwards? What is it that you want to ask Mr. -Redgrave?’ - -‘My girl,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘we will, if you please, discuss it now. Mr. -Redgrave is equally involved with yourself. Remember that it was you -that insisted on joining this little conference. You insisted on coming -into the room.’ Then he turned to Redgrave. ‘What was the exact nature -of the difficult situation in which you say my daughter was placed?’ - -‘I will tell you, hither,’ said Teresa, standing up. ‘If you insist on -Mr. Redgrave hearing it, he shall. I had reason to think that either you -had killed Micky, or that Micky had killed you.’ - -‘And which proposition did you favour?’ - -‘I favoured,’ said Teresa, with a coldness equalling her father’s, ‘I -favoured the proposition that you had killed Micky. Bridget heard a -revolver-shot in the night. I knew that you kept a revolver. Bridget -had previously heard you and Micky at high words. This morning you had -disappeared without warning me. Micky had also disappeared. Father, you -were not treating me fairly.’ - -‘You consider that before I leave my house I must give you “warning” - like a servant, eh, Teresa? I wonder what Mr. Redgrave thinks of all -this.’ - -‘I do not see that it matters what Mr. Redgrave thinks,’ said Teresa. - -‘It matters greatly,’ the old man contradicted; ‘and I will give you the -reason.’ He walked across the room very deliberately to the tall clock. -‘Mr. Redgrave will be your husband, Teresa.’ - -‘Father!’ - -Richard tried to think of something suitable to such an extraordinary -occasion, but could not. - -‘You have hopelessly compromised yourself with him, and he shall marry -you.’ - -‘Never!’ said Teresa, with every nerve tingling with a girl’s pride. ‘I -will die first!’ - -‘Very well,’ said Mr. Craig, with frightful calmness, ‘you will die, -Teresa.’ - -[Illustration: 0180] - -His lips were white, and his eyes blazed as he opened the clock-case and -took there from a revolver. - -‘Mr. Craig,’ said Richard, ‘may I beg you to remain calm?’ - -‘I am entirely calm, sir. Teresa, you have never heard your mother’s -story. It is the remembrance of that story which makes me firm now. Some -day you shall hear it. You may think me mad, but I am not so. You may -think me of uncertain temper, mysterious, secretive, a bully, perhaps a -criminal. Well, you must think those things; but when you know all, -if ever you do know all, you will forgive all.’ His voice softened a -little, and then grew firm again. ‘In the meantime, you shall marry Mr. -Redgrave. You have visited his room at an unconscionable hour; he has -visited this house at an hour still more unconscionable, and there is -only one alternative to marriage. I am quite serious when I say that I -would sooner see you dead than that you should remain single after this -episode. I have seen what I have seen. I know your blood. I know what -darkened my life, and darkened your mother’s life, and finally killed -her.’ - -‘You threaten----’ Teresa began. - -‘Stop, Teresa!’ Richard exclaimed masterfully, and turning to Raphael -Craig: ‘Mr. Craig, nothing will suit me better. I have the honour to ask -your daughter’s hand.’ - -Teresa started violently. - -‘As Teresa’s father,’ said Craig solemnly, ‘I give her to you. May she -prove a worthy wife!’ - -‘And you?’ Richard questioned, gazing at Teresa. - -‘What a farce!’ Teresa sobbed; but at the same moment, try how she might -to prevent it, a smile lighted her tears, and her hand found Richard’s -hand. - -Mr. Craig put the revolver back into the clock-case. - -‘I expect you know that we didn’t yield to that tool of yours,’ -said Richard half playfully. ‘I am truly fond of Teresa--that is the -explanation. You wouldn’t have used that revolver, though you are -certainly in some ways a strange man.’ - -‘As you are good enough to say, Redgrave, I am a strange man. I should -have used the revolver.’ - -The way in which these words were uttered created a profound impression -on Richard. Releasing Teresa’s hand, he began to consider what course -he should now adopt in the joint interest of himself and of Teresa. He -could not dismiss the suspicion that he had a madman to deal with. - -‘If I may,’ said he to Mr. Craig, ‘I should like a few words with Teresa -outside. After that there are several things to be settled between you, -sir, and me.’ - -Mr. Craig nodded. - -‘It is late,’ he said. - -‘Yes,’ said Richard, ‘but such nights as this do not follow every day in -the week.’ - -‘Teresa!’ the young lover exclaimed when they were in the hall, ‘say you -don’t regret. I have loved you since the moment I saw you first.’ - -‘I don’t regret,’ she said simply. ‘Why should I?’ - -‘Call me Dick,’ he demanded. - -‘Dick.’ - -‘And kiss me.’ - -She kissed him. - -‘Thanks,’ he said in his curious, undisturbed way; ‘that is indeed good. -Now go to bed and rest. I will have a thorough explanation with your -father at once. I am determined on that. We must know where we stand, -you and I;’ and without waiting for her to make any reply, he flung back -into the drawing-room and slammed the door. - -Raphael still sat on the Chesterfield, apparently lost in thought. - -‘Mr. Craig,’ Richard began, ‘I am now, for practical purposes, a -member of your family. Your interests are, presumably, your daughter’s -interests, and your daughter’s interests are certainly my interests; -therefore----’ - -‘Therefore?’ repeated Mr. Craig imperturbably. - -‘Therefore,’ said Richard, ‘don’t you think you had better let me into -some of your secrets?’ - -‘As, for example----’ - -‘The secret, for example, of what has occurred between you and Micky, -whose real name you have doubtless learnt since I left you on Saturday -night last. I should tell you that I had ascertained the identity of -that gentleman immediately upon the conclusion of my interview with -you.’ - -‘And I,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘ascertained it about twenty-four hours later. -It was then that the revolver-shot occurred. The revolver-shot hurt -no one and nothing except the piano.’ Here Mr. Craig lifted up the -embroidered damask cover of the piano, and showed splintered wood -beneath. The perforation in the damask cover was scarcely noticeable. -He continued: ‘I was angry at the man’s calm insolence when I taxed him -with being a detective. I aimed to hit, but aimed badly. Having missed, -I thought better of the idea of an immediate killing, and told him to -go. He went. I saw nothing of him again till I saw him lying senseless -in the pit to-night; but I guessed that he was still prowling about.’ - -‘Thanks,’ said Richard. - -‘Thanks for what?’ asked the old man. - -‘For your candour. I hope you will trust me and confide in me.’ Richard -was now trying to be extremely diplomatic. ‘In spite of appearances, I -still believe that you are an honourable man, engaged, however, in some -scheme which may involve you in difficulties. Mr. Craig, let me beg you, -most respectfully, to continue your frankness; you can lose nothing -by it. I need not point out to you that you have been very fortunate -to-night.’ - -‘In what way?’ - -‘In the fact that I happen to have fallen in love with Teresa, and was -tempted beyond resistance by the opportunity offered by your amazing -proposition. My love for Teresa has not, I hope, impaired my judgment, -and my judgment infallibly tells me that you had a far more powerful -reason than that of propriety for urging my engagement to your daughter. -And, Mr. Craig, I venture to guess that your reason was that I knew too -much of your affairs. You discerned the nature of my feelings towards -your daughter, and you determined on a bold stroke. You are an -incomparable actor.’ - -Mr. Craig slowly smiled; it was a smile of almost tragic amusement. - -‘Your insight does you credit, Redgrave,’ he said at length. ‘I admit -that it was part of my wish to secure your silence, and perhaps your -co-operation. Nevertheless, my chief reason for insisting on a betrothal -was a regard for Teresa’s future. There are pages in the history of my -life that----’ He stopped. - -‘We will not go into that,’ he said shortly. - -‘As you please,’ Richard assented. ‘Perhaps, to change the subject, you -will tell ‘me your object in disappearing so completely to-day, to the -grave alarm of my future wife?’ - -The youth’s spectacles gleamed with good-humoured mischief. - -‘I had to perform a certain excursion,’ said Raphael Craig. - -‘Now, why in the name of fortune, sir, don’t you say at once that you -went to London?’ - -‘How do you know that I went to London?’ - -‘By this paper.’ Richard pointed to the _Westminster Gazette_, which -lay on the floor. ‘It is to-night’s special edition. The _Westminster -Gazette_ is not on sale in Hockliffe.’ - -‘Yes,’ said the old man half dreamily, ‘I went to London.’ - -‘In order to close finally the estate of your uncle, who left you all -that silver?’ - -The irony of Richard’s tone was not lost on the old man. - -‘What do you mean, boy?’ - -‘I said a few moments ago, sir, that you were an incomparable actor. I -alluded to our previous interview in this room. Most cheerfully I admit -that Teresa’s father imposed on me then to perfection. I believed you -absolutely. Since then----’ - -‘What?’ - -‘Since then I have found out that you never had any uncle, and that, -consequently, your uncle, being non-existent, could not have left you a -hundred thousand pounds in silver coin.’ - -Raphael Craig took a long, deep breath. - -‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I lied to you. But it was a good lie--a lie which I -have used so often during the last year or two that I had almost come -to believe it truth. You are a clever fellow, Redgrave. How did you -discover this?’ - -‘To be precise,’ said Richard, ‘it was not I, but your precious Micky, -who discovered it.’ - -‘Then you are not so clever a fellow.’ - -‘Clever enough, sir, to go straight to the point. And the point is, the -point at which I have been gradually arriving since our talk began--how -did you become possessed of that silver? I ask the question, and I -demand an answer to it, as the affianced of your daughter.’ - -At this moment the lamp, short of oil, began to give a feeble and -still feebler light. A slight smell of oil filled the room. Both men -instinctively glanced up at the lamp. - -‘Redgrave, I may, at any rate, assure you that you are not about to -marry a thief’s daughter.’ - -‘No, sir; probably not. But I may be about to marry the daughter of a -man who in some other way has made an enemy of the law.’ - -‘Listen,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘and believe that I am not acting now. -Twenty years ago I formed a scheme, a life-plan. To the success of this -scheme money was absolutely essential, money in large quantities. How -was I to get it? I was in the service of a bank, and this fact was very -helpful to the success of my scheme. I therefore did not wish to leave -the bank. But a bank manager cannot make money. At least, he cannot -make much money. I needed a lot. I thought and thought, and at length I -arrived at the solution of the problem. I began to _make_ money.’ - -‘But how?’ asked Richard, not yet caring to seem to perceive the old -man’s meaning. - -‘I made it--made it steadily for nearly twenty years.’ - -‘You coined it?’ - -‘I coined it.’ - -‘Then during the whole of this time you have been spreading bad money -everywhere, and have never been found out?’ - -‘I didn’t make bad money, Redgrave. I made perfectly good money. I -cheated no one. I merely sinned against the law. The price of silver, as -you know, has been steadily decreasing for many years. The silver in -a half-crown, as silver, is now worth little more than a shilling. A -half-crown piece is only worth half-a-crown because we choose to call -it so. Consult any book on coinage, and you will find that what I say is -strictly true. What more easy, then, given the mechanical skill, which I -possessed, than to make and utter genuine money at a substantial profit? -I made a profit of fifty per cent, on my coinage, and no one on earth -can distinguish my money from that of the Mint. It will stand any test.’ - -Richard did not conceal that he was impressed by the fine simplicity and -effectiveness of Raphael’s scheme. - -‘But,’ the old man continued, ‘I made money faster than I could get rid -of it. It gradually accumulated. Then it was that I invented my Mexican -uncle, so that I might deal with the coin more openly.’ - -‘Yes?’ said Richard. - -‘That is all,’ said Raphael Craig. - -‘But the object of the scheme?’ asked Richard. ‘You said you needed all -this money for a certain scheme.’ - -‘Yes,’ said the old man solemnly, ‘and the scheme is approaching -fruition. Yet a little time, and my task will be done.’ - -‘It is well,’ Richard put in, ‘that your scheme is nearly completed, -for the methods you have employed might even now be found out, and then -good-bye to the scheme, whatever it is.’ - -Raphael Craig smiled. - -‘No, my friend,’ he remarked composedly, ‘nothing can upset it now. The -last of my silver is disposed of--safely negotiated. Go into my sheds -now, and you will discover--nothing. My machinery is destroyed; all -evidence is annihilated. For twenty years I have been crossing an abyss -by means of a tight-rope; at any moment I might have been precipitated -into the gulf. But at last I am on firm ground once more. It is the -Other, now, who will shortly be plunged into the abyss.’ - -‘The Other!’ Richard repeated, struck by the strange and mordant accent -with which Raphael Craig had pronounced that word. - -‘The Other,’ said the old man. ‘His hour comes.’ - -‘And who is he?’ demanded Richard. - -‘That,’ Raphael Craig said, ‘you will never know until my deed is -accomplished. The train is laid, the fuse is ignited. I have only to -wait.’ - -‘Then you will tell me nothing more?’ said Richard. - -‘Have I not interested you so far?’ said the old man. - -‘Undoubtedly, but my curiosity is still not quite sated.’ - -‘It occurs to me that your curiosity exceeds mine. By what right, -young man, do you put all these questions? I have never sought to -cross-examine you, as I might have done.’ - -‘Under the circumstances,’ said Richard, ‘I think you have a perfect -right to know, and certainly I have no objection to telling you. I came -on behalf of the directors of the bank.’ - -‘Which means Mr. Simon Lock,’ said Raphael Craig. - -‘Which means Mr. Simon Lock,’ Richard cheerfully admitted. - -‘Ah!’ - -‘Then you decline to admit me further into your confidence?’ Richard -doggedly persisted. - -‘Redgrave,’ said the old man, standing up, my scheme is my own. It is -the most precious thing I have--the one thing that has kept me alive, -given me vitality, vivacity, strength, hope. During all these years I -have shared it with none. Shall I share it now? Shall I share it with a -man young enough to be my son, a man who forced himself into my house, -wormed himself into the secrets of my private life? I shall not. It -is too sacred a thing. You do not know what my scheme means to me; you -cannot guess all that is involved in it. I can conceive that you might -even laugh at my scheme--you who do not yet know what life is and what -life means.’ - -Raphael Craig resumed with dignity his seat on the sofa. Richard was -impressed by this exhibition of profound feeling on the part of the old -man. He was inclined to admit, privately, that perhaps the old man -was right--perhaps he did not know what life was and what life meant; -perhaps there were things in life deeper, more terrible, than he had -ever suspected. - -A silence fell upon the room. The old man seemed not inclined to break -it; Richard, still under the hypnotism of the scene, would not speak. To -relieve the intensity of the moment he quietly opened the _Westminster -Gazette_. The lamp had sunk lower and lower, and it was with difficulty -that he could read. His eye, however, chanced to fall on the financial -page, and there, as the heading of a paragraph in the ‘Notes,’ he saw -these words: ‘LOCK RUMOURS.’ He brought the page nearer to his face, and -read: ‘The rumours that the Lock group are in serious difficulties -was again rife on ’Change to-day. Mr. Simon Lock, seen by one of our -representatives, merely smiled when told of the prevalence of these -sinister rumours. He gave our representative the somewhat cryptic answer -that we should see what we should see. We do not doubt the truth of this -remark. Dealing in the shares of the newly-floated “La Princesse” Gold -Mining Company (Westralian) was very active this morning, but fell flat -after lunch. The one-pound shares, which, after a sensational rise last -week, fell on Thursday to a shade over par, are now at five and a half, -with a distinct tendency to harden, in spite of the fact that the demand -is slight.’ - -Richard looked up from the paper. - -‘I see,’ he said, with interest, ‘that it is not absolutely all plain -sailing even with the great Simon Lock. Did you read this paragraph here -about him?’ - -‘No,’ murmured the old man. ‘Read it to me.’ - -Richard did so in the rapidly-dying light. - -‘Very curious and interesting,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘I have sometimes -permitted myself to wonder whether our respected chairman is, after all, -the impregnable rock which he is usually taken for.’ - -At this moment the lamp went out, and the two men sat in absolute -darkness. - -The next ensuing phenomenon was the sound of an apparently heavy body -falling down the stairs into the hall, and then a girl’s terrified -scream. - -Richard sprang to the door, but a few moments elapsed before his fingers -could find the handle. At length he opened the door. The lamp in the -hall was still brightly burning. At the foot of the stairs lay Nolan, -the detective, wrapped in a bedgown. At the head of the stairs, in an -attitude of dismay, stood Juana. - -There was a heavy and terrible sigh at Richard’s elbow. He turned his -head sharply. Raphael Craig stood behind him, his body swaying as though -in a breeze. - -‘Juana!’ he stammered out hoarsely, his eyes fixed on the trembling -girl. - -‘Do not curse me again, father,’ she cried, with a superb gesture; ‘I -have suffered enough.’ - -An oak chest stood to the left of the drawing-room door. Raphael Craig -sank down upon it, as if exhausted by a sudden and frightful emotion. - -‘Go!’ he said in a low voice. - -But the girl came steadily downstairs towards him. - -No one seemed to take any notice of the body of the detective. - - - - -CHAPTER XI--END OF THE NIGHT - -The body of the detective lay, by chance, lengthwise along the mat at -the foot of the stairs. In order to reach the hall, therefore, Juana -had no alternative but to step over the prone figure. This she did -unhesitatingly, and then turned to Richard. - -‘Carry the poor fellow upstairs, will you?’ she asked quietly. ‘He is -delirious. The room overhead.’ - -Richard obeyed. The small, light frame of the detective gave him no -trouble. At the top of the stairs he met Mrs. Bridget hastening towards -him. - -‘Holy Virgin!’ she exclaimed. ‘I did but run down by the backstairs to -the kitchen and left the spalpeen with Miss Juana, and when I came back -to them the room was as empty as my pocket.’ - -‘He got a bit wild,’ Richard explained. ‘I suppose his head is affected. -Miss Juana is talking with her father. Where is Miss Teresa?’ - -‘Sure, she’s gone out to the mares. They must have their water, if every -soul of us was dying.’ - -Richard carefully laid Nolan on the bed in the room over the porch. By -this time the sufferer had recovered consciousness. He murmured a few -meaningless strings of words, then sighed. - -‘I will leave him with you,’ said Richard. - -‘Not alone! If he begins to kick out----’ - -‘He’s quite quiet now,’ said Richard, closing the door behind him. - -Richard was extremely anxious to be present, as he had a sort of right -to be, at the conversation between Raphael Craig and Juana. He descended -the stairs with such an air of deliberation as he could assume, and -stood hesitatingly at the foot. He felt like an interloper, an -eavesdropper, one who is not wanted, but, indeed, there was no other -place for him to put himself into, unless it might be the kitchen; for -the drawing-room lamp was extinguished, and the lamp in the dining-room -had not been lighted. - -Juana had approached her father, who still sat on the oak chest. She -bent slightly towards him, like a figure of retribution, or menace, or -sinister prophecy. Richard noticed the little wisps of curls in the nape -of her neck. She was still dressed in her riding-habit, but the lengthy -skirt had been fastened up by means of a safety-pin. Richard could not -be sure whether father or daughter had so much as observed his presence -in the hall. - -‘I’ll stay where I am,’ he thought. ‘I’m a member of the family now, and -it is my business to know all the family secrets.’ - -For at least thirty seconds Juana uttered no word. Then she said, in a -low vibrating voice: - -‘Why do you tell me to go, father?’ - -‘Did I not say to you last year,’ the old man replied, ‘that if you left -me you must leave me for ever?’ - -‘You abide by that?’ the girl demanded. - -‘I abide by it,’ said Raphael Craig. - -Like a flash, Juana swept round and faced Richard, and he at once -perceived that she had been aware of his presence. - -‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she said, with head in air, and nostrils dilated, -‘Teresa has just told me that at my father’s--er--suggestion you and she -have become engaged to be married.’ - -‘That is so,’ said Richard politely. ‘May we hope for your -congratulations?’ - -She ignored the remark. - -‘Do you know whom you are marrying?’ she asked curtly. - -‘I am under the impression that I am about to marry the daughter of Mr. -Raphael Craig, manager of the Kilburn branch of the British and Scottish -Bank.’ - -‘You are about to do nothing of the sort,’ said Juana. ‘Mr. Raphael -Craig has no daughter. Teresa and myself, I may explain to you, are -twin-sisters, though I have the misfortune to look much the older. We -have always passed as the daughters of Mr. Craig, We have always called -him father. Teresa still thinks him her father. It was only recently -that I discovered----’ - -‘Juana,’ the old man interrupted, ‘have you, too, got hold of the wild -tale? It is astonishing how long a falsehood, an idle rumour, will -survive and flourish.’ - -‘There is no falsehood, no idle rumour,’ said Juana coldly; ‘and I think -it proper that Mr. Redgrave should know all that I know.’ - -‘It will make no difference whatever to me,’ said Richard, ‘whose -daughter Teresa may be. ‘It is herself, and not her ancestors, that I -shall have the honour of marrying.’ - -‘Still,’ said Juana, ‘do you not think that you ought to know Teresa’s -history?’ - -‘Decidedly,’ said Richard. - -With an embittered glance at her father, Juana resumed: - -‘Some time ago, Mr. Redgrave, a difficulty between Mr. Craig and myself -led to my leaving this house. I was the merest girl, but I left. I was -too proud to stay. I had a mare of my own, whom I had trained to do a -number of tricks. I could ride as well as most. Bosco’s circus happened -to be in the neighbourhood. I conceived the wild idea of applying for a -situation in the circus. Only a girl utterly inexperienced in life would -have dreamt of such a thing. The circus people had me performing for -them, and they engaged me. On the whole I lived a not unhappy existence. -I tell you this only to account for my presence not long since in -Limerick.’ - -‘Limerick!’ exclaimed Raphael Craig in alarm. ‘You have been there?’ - -Juana continued calmly: - -‘The circus travelled in Ireland, and eventually came to Limerick. I -knew that Limerick was my mother’s home, and I began to make inquiries. -I found out that my sister and I were born previous to Mr. Craig’s -marriage with my mother. She had been married before, or she had, at -least, been through the ceremony of marriage with another man--a man -unknown, who came suddenly into her life and as suddenly went out of it. -You will gather, then, that Mr. Craig is not our father, and that he has -no authority over us.’ - -‘Redgrave,’ muttered Raphael Craig, ‘I tell you the poor girl is mad.’ - -Juana resumed quietly: - -‘I must inform you of another thing. While in Limerick and the district -I met this Nolan, the detective. He had another name there. I know now, -from what my sister has told me, that he must have been investigating -the early history of my mother, and my real and false fathers, for some -purpose of the police. But I judge him as I found him. He was very kind -to me once, and I liked him. He was the personification of good-nature -and good temper. When our ways parted he expressed the certain hope that -we should meet again. We have met again, under circumstances extremely -painful. He has not yet recognised me. You may ask, father,’ she went -on, turning to Raphael Craig, ‘why I came back to your house to-day. -There were two reasons. It is three months since I learnt about my -parentage, and during the whole of that time I have been debating with -myself whether or not to come and have it out with you. I inclined more -and more to having a clear understanding, not only for my own sake, -but for Teresa’s. Then, the second reason, the circus folk had begun to -talk. There were jealousies, of course; and the rumour that my birth -was surrounded by doubtful mysteries somehow got afoot in the tents. I -decided to leave. Here I am. I came prepared for peace; but you, father, -have decided otherwise. I shall leave to-morrow morning, We have no -claim on each other. Mr. Redgrave, that is all I have to say.’ - -She ceased. - -Richard bowed, and looked expectantly towards the old man, but the old -man said nothing. - -‘I have the right to ask you, sir,’ said Richard, ‘for your version of -what Miss Juana has just told us.’ - -‘We will talk of that to-morrow,’ answered the old man testily. ‘We will -talk of that to-morrow.’ - -‘It is already to-morrow,’ said Juana scornfully. - -There was a sudden tremendous racket overhead. A scream could be heard -from Bridget, and a loud, confused chattering from Nolan. The latter -rushed violently half-way downstairs, his eyes burning, Mrs. Bridget -after him. - -[Illustration: 0206] - -‘I tell you I won’t stay there!’ he shouted. ‘It’s unlucky--that room -where Featherstone slept the night before he killed himself! It’s -unlucky!’ - -The restless patient sank on the stairs, exhausted by the exertion. -Before Richard could do anything, Mrs. Bridget, that gaunt and powerful -creature, had picked up the little man, and by great effort carried him -away again. The people downstairs saw no more of him. Mrs. Bridget had -at last made up her mind to take him firmly in hand. - -Richard was startled by a light touch on his shoulder, and he was -still more startled when he caught the horror-struck face of Juana--the -staring eyes, the drawn mouth. - -‘Tell me,’ she said, her finger still on his shoulder--‘tell me--I -cannot trust him--has Mr. Featherstone committed suicide? Is he dead?’ - -‘Yes,’ said Richard, extremely mystified, but judging that simple -candour would be the best course to adopt under the circumstances. - -‘There was an inquest. Didn’t you see it in the papers?’ - -‘Circus folk seldom trouble with newspapers,’ she said. ‘When was it?’ - -‘About a month ago.’ - -‘Poor fellow!’ - -Tears ran down her cheeks, and she spoke with an accent indescribably -mournful. - -‘You knew him?’ Richard suggested. - -‘I should have been his wife a year ago,’ said Juana, ‘had _he_ not -forbidden it.’ Again she pointed to Raphael Craig. ‘I never loved Mr. -Featherstone, but I liked him. He was an honourable man--old enough to -be my father, but an honourable man. He worshipped me. Why should I -not have married him? It was the best chance I was ever likely to get, -living the life we lived--solitary, utterly withdrawn from the world. -Yes, I would have married him, and I would have made him a good wife. -But _he_ forbade. He gave no reason. I was so angry that I would -have taken Mr. Featherstone despite him. But Mr. Featherstone had -old-fashioned ideas. He thought it wrong to marry a girl without her -father’s consent. And so we parted. That, Mr. Redgrave, was the reason -why I left the house of my so-called father. Scarcely a month ago Mr. -Featherstone came to me again secretly, one night after the performance -was over, and he again asked me to marry him, and said that he had -decided to dispense with Mr. Craig’s consent. He begged me to marry him. -His love was as great as ever, but with me things had changed. I had -almost ceased even to like Mr. Featherstone. I was free, independent, -and almost happy in that wandering life. Besides, I--never mind that. -I refused him as kindly as I could. It must have been immediately -afterwards that the poor fellow committed suicide, And you’--she flashed -a swift denunciatory glance on Raphael Craig--‘are his murderer.’ - -The old man collected himself and stood up, his face calm, stately, -livid. - -‘Daughter,’ he said, ‘daughter--for I shall I still call you so, by the -right of all that I have done for you--you have said a good deal in your -anger that had been better left unsaid. But doubtless you have found -a sufficient justification for your wrath. You are severe in your -judgments. In youth we judge; in age we are merciful. You think you have -been hardly done to. Perhaps it is so; but not by me--rather by fate. -Even now I could tell you such things as would bring you to your knees -at my feet, but I refrain. Like you, I am proud. Some day you will -know all the truth--the secret of my actions and the final goal of my -desires. And I think that on that day you will bless me. No man ever -had a more sacred, a holier aim, than that which has been the aim of my -life. I thank God it is now all but achieved.’ - -He lighted one of the candles which always stood on the bookcase in the -hall, and passed into the drawing-room, where he sat down, leaving the -door ajar. - -Richard crept towards the door and looked in. The old man sat -motionless, absently holding the candle in his hand. The frontdoor -opened from the outside, and Teresa ran into the house. She saw her -father, and hastened, with a charming gesture, towards him. - -‘Old darling!’ she exclaimed; ‘why that sad face, and why that candle? -What are you all doing? See!’ She pulled back the shutters of the -window. ‘See! the sun has risen!’ - -So ended that long night. - - - - -CHAPTER XII--THE NAPOLEON - -We have now to watch another aspect of the great struggle which for -so many years had been maturing in secrecy and darkness, and the true -nature of which was hidden from all save one man. - -It was seven o’clock in the morning, and in a vast bedroom of a house in -Manchester Square a man lay with closed eyes. The house was one of those -excessively plain dwellings of the very rich which are characteristic -of the streets and squares of the West End of London. Its façade was -relieved by no ornament. You saw merely a flat face of brick, with four -rows of windows, getting smaller towards the roof, and a sombre green -front-door in the middle of the lowest row. The house did not even seem -large, but it was, in fact, extremely spacious, as anyone could see who -put foot into the hall, where two footmen lounged from morn till -night. The bedroom to which we have referred was on the first-floor. It -occupied half the width of the house, and looked out on the square. -Its three windows were made double, so that no sound from outside could -penetrate that sacred apartment. Ventilation was contrived by means of -two electric fans. The furniture consisted of the articles usual in -an English bedroom, for the man in bed prided himself on being an -Englishman who did not ape foreign ways. The said articles were, -however, extraordinarily large, massive, and ornate. The pile of the -immense carpet probably could not have been surpassed by any carpet -in London. Across the foot of the carved oak bedstead was a broad sofa -upholstered in softest silk. - -An English bracket-clock on the mantelshelf intoned the hour of seven -with English solemnity, and instantly afterwards an electric bell rang -about six inches over the head of the occupant of the bed. - -He opened his eyes wearily. He had not been asleep; indeed, he had spent -most of the night in a futile wakefulness, which was a bad sign with a -man who boasted that as a rule he could sleep at will, like Napoleon. -Here was one detail out of many in which this man considered that he -resembled Napoleon. - -He groaned, pulled his gray moustache, stroked his chin, which bristled -with the night’s growth of beard, and ran his fingers through his gray -hair. Then he touched an electric button. Within ten seconds a valet -entered, bearing the morning papers--not merely a judicious selection of -morning papers, but every morning paper published in London. - -‘Put them on the sofa, Jack.’ - -‘Yes, sir.’ - -The man rose out of bed with a sudden jerk. At the same moment the -valet, with a movement which would have done credit to a juggler, placed -a pair of bath slippers on his master’s feet, and with another movement -of equal swiftness deposited a pair of six-pound dumbbells in his hands. -The man performed six distinct exercises twelve times each, and then -dropped the lumps of iron on the bed, whence the valet removed them. - -‘Seven-thirty,’ said the man. - -‘Yes, sir,’ said the valet, and disappeared. - -The man sank languidly on to the sofa, and began, with the efficiency -of a highly-practised reader, to skim the papers one after the other. -He led off with the _Financial_, proceeded to the _Times_, and took the -rest anyhow. When he had finished, the papers lay in a tangled heap on -the thick carpet. This man was pre-eminently tidy and orderly, yet few -things delighted him more than, at intervals, to achieve a gigantic -disorder. It was a little affectation which he permitted himself. -Another little affectation was his manner of appearing always to be busy -from the hour of opening his eyes to the hour of closing them. He was, -in truth, a very busy man indeed; but it pleased him to seem more -deeply employed than he actually was. He had a telephone affixed to -his bed-head, by means of which he could communicate with his private -secretary’s bedroom in the house, and also with his office in Cannon -Street. This telephone tickled his fancy. He used it for the sake of -using it; he enjoyed using it in the middle of the night. He went to it -now, and rang imperiously. He did everything imperiously. There was a -tinkling reply on the bell. - -‘Are you up, Oakley? Well, get up then. Go to Cannon Street, and bring -the important letters. And tell----’ He went off into a series of -detailed instructions. ‘And be back here at half-past eight.’ - -The clock struck half-past seven. The valet entered as silently as a -nun, and the modern Napoleon passed into his marble bath-room. By this -time everyone in the household--that household which revolved round -the autocrat as the solar system revolves round the sun--knew that -the master had awakened in a somewhat dangerous mood, and that squally -weather might be expected. And they all, from the page-boy to the -great Mr. Oakley, the private secretary, accepted this fact as further -evidence that the master’s career of prosperity had received a check. - -At eight o’clock precisely the master took breakfast--an English -breakfast: bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, marmalade--in the breakfast-room, -a room of medium size opening off the library. He took it in solitude, -for he could not tolerate the presence of servants so early in the -morning, and he had neither wife nor family. He poured out his own -coffee like one of his own clerks, and read his private letters propped -up one by one against the coffee-pot, also like one of his own clerks. -He looked at his watch as he drank the last drop of coffee. It was -thirty-one minutes past eight. He walked quickly into the library. -If Oakley had not been there Oakley would have caught it; but Oakley -happened to be there, calmly opening envelopes with a small ivory -paper-cutter. It was mainly in virtue of his faculty of always ‘being -there’ that Oakley received a salary of six hundred a year. - -‘Shall you go to Cannon Street this morning, sir?’ asked Oakley, -a middle-aged man with the featureless face of a waiter in a large -restaurant. - -‘Why?’ - -‘Sir Arthur Custer has telegraphed to know.’ - -‘No.’ - -‘I thought not, and have told him.’ - -‘Umph!’ said the master, nettled, but not daring to say anything. - -Like many a man equally powerful, this Napoleon was in some ways in awe -of his unexceptionable clerk. Oakley might easily get another master, -but it was doubtful whether his employer could get another clerk equal -to Oakley. - -‘A light post this morning, sir,’ said Oakley. - -‘Umph!’ said the master again. ‘Take down this letter, and have it sent -off instantly: - -‘“Richard Redgrave, Esq., 4, Adelphi Terrace. Dear Sir,--I shall be -obliged if you can make it convenient to call on me this morning as -early as possible at the above address. The bearer can bring you here in -his cab.--Yours truly.”’ - -The letter was written, signed, and despatched. - -‘Anything from Gaunt and Griffiths?’ asked the Napoleon. - -‘Yes, sir.’ - -Oakley turned to a letter on large, thick, quarto paper. The stationery -of this famous firm of stock-brokers--perhaps the largest firm, and -certainly the firm with the cleanest record, on the Exchange--was always -of an impressive type. - -‘They say, “We are obliged by your favour of to-day’s date. We can offer -a limited number of La Princesse shares at twenty-five. We shall be glad -to have your acceptance or refusal before noon to-morrow.--Your obedient -servants, Gaunt and Griffiths.”’ - -‘Twenty-five!’ exclaimed the other. ‘They mean five. It’s a clerical -error.’ - -‘The amount is written out in words.’ - -‘It’s a clerical error.’ - -‘Doubtless, sir.’ - -Even now the Napoleon would not believe that misfortune, perhaps -ruin, was at his door. He doggedly refused to face the fact. It seemed -incredible, unthinkable, that anything could happen to him. So we -all think until the crash comes. He plunged into the mass of general -correspondence with a fine appearance of perfect calmness. But he could -not deceive Mr. Oakley. - -At five minutes past nine there was a careful tap at the door. The -messenger had returned from Adelphi Terrace. Mr. Redgrave was not at -his rooms. He had gone out on the previous evening, and had not come in -again. The landlady knew not where he was. - -‘Send again at noon, Oakley,’ said the Napoleon. - -In another minute there was another tap at the door. - -‘Come in!’--angrily. - -The footman announced that Sir Arthur Custer had called. - -‘D----n Sir Arthur Custer!’ said the master of the house. ‘Here, Oakley, -get out of this! I must see him.’ - -Oakley got out, and Sir Arthur was ushered in. Sir Arthur looked at his -host queerly, and then with much care shut the door. - -‘I say, Lock,’ he said, putting his silk hat on the table, ‘it seems to -me we’re in a devil of a hole.’ - -‘Indeed!’ said Simon Lock cautiously. - -‘Yes,’ Sir Arthur insisted. ‘Of course I’m sure that when you asked me -to join you in this Princesse affair----’ - -‘You will pardon me, Sir Arthur,’ said Lock, stopping him very politely -and formally, ‘I did not ask you to join me. It was yourself who -suggested that.’ - -‘Ah, well!’ said Sir Arthur, with a little less assurance, ‘we won’t -quarrel about that. At any rate, I understood from you that we were in -for a deuced good thing.’ - -‘That is so,’ Lock returned. ‘By the way, sit down, Sir Arthur, and -remain calm.’ - -‘Am I not calm?’ asked the member of Parliament, whose pomposity was -unaccustomed to be trifled with. - -‘Certainly you are calm. I merely ask you to remain so. Now to come to -the business in hand. I said, you remind me, that we were in for a good -thing. So we were. But some secret force has been working against us. -If I could unmask that secret force all would be well, for I could then -bring pressure to bear that would effectually---- You understand?’ - -‘No matter from what direction the force came?’ - -‘No matter from what direction. And, Sir Arthur,’ said Simon Lock -impressively, ‘I shall find it out.’ He repeated the phrase still -more impressively, ‘I shall find it out. Simon Lock has never yet been -defeated, and he will not be defeated now. I began life, Sir Arthur, -on half-a-crown a week. There were conspiracies against me then, but I -upset them. At the age of fifty-five, on a slightly larger scale ‘--he -smiled--‘I shall repeat the operations of my early youth.’ - -Simon Lock, like many self-made men, was extremely fond of referring to -his early youth and the humbleness of his beginnings. He thought that it -proved an absence of snobbery in his individuality. - -‘And in the meantime?’ - -‘In the meantime, I frankly confess, Sir Arthur, we have sold more La -Princesse shares than we can deliver. Nay, further, we have sold, I -fear, more La Princesse shares than actually exist. We sold freely for -the fall. I knew that the shares would fall soon after the flotation, -and they did. But they have mysteriously risen again.’ - -‘And are still rising,’ Sir Arthur put in, nervously stroking his long -thin beard. - -‘Yes. We sold, I find, over two hundred thousand shares at three. They -then fell, as you know, to about twenty-five shillings. Then they began -to go up like a balloon. The market tightened like a drawn string. Sir -Arthur, we were led into a trap. For once in a way some fellow has got -the better of Simon Lock--temporarily, only temporarily. My brokers -thought they were selling shares to the public in general, but they were -selling to the agents of a single buyer. That is evident.’ - -‘How do we stand now?’ - -‘We have to deliver our shares in a week’s time. We have some eighty -thousand shares in hand, bought at various prices up to five pounds. On -those eighty thousand we shall just about clear ourselves. That leaves -us over a hundred and twenty thousand yet to buy.’ - -‘At the best price we can obtain?’ - -‘Yes.’ - -‘And what is the best price to-day?’ - -‘Well,’ said Lock, looking Sir Arthur straight in the face, ‘I have had -shares offered to me this morning at twenty-five.’ - -Sir Arthur’s reply was to rush to the sideboard and help himself to a -glass of brandy. He was a timid creature, despite his appearance. - -‘And that figure means that we should lose the sum of twenty-two pounds -on each share. Twenty-two times one hundred and twenty thousand, Sir -Arthur, is two millions six hundred and forty thousand pounds. That -would be the amount of our loss on the transaction.’ - -‘But this is child’s play, Lock.’ - -‘Excuse me, it isn’t,’ said Simon Lock. ‘It is men’s play, and -desperately serious.’ - -‘I don’t understand the methods of the Stock Exchange--never did,’ said -Sir Arthur Custer, M.P. ‘I only came into the City because a lot of -fellows like yourself asked me to. But it seems to me the only thing to -do is to cry off.’ - -‘Cry off?’ - -‘Yes. Tell all these people to whom we have contracted to sell Princesse -shares that we simply can’t supply ’em, and tell ’em to do their -worst. Their worst won’t be worse than a dead loss of over two and a -half millions.’ - -‘My dear Sir Arthur,’ said Simon Lock, ‘there is no crying off in the -City. We have contracted to deliver those shares, and we must deliver -them, or pay the price--commercial ruin.’ - -‘The Stock Exchange,’ Sir Arthur blustered, ‘is one of the most infamous -institutions----’ - -‘Yes,’ Simon Lock cut him short, ‘we know all about that. The Stock -Exchange is quite right as long as we are making money; but when we -begin to lose it immediately becomes infamous.’ - -Sir Arthur made an obvious effort to pull himself together. - -‘What is your plan of campaign, Lock?’ he asked. ‘You must have some -scheme in your head. What is it? Don’t trifle with me.’ - -‘Well,’ said Simon Lock, ‘we have a week. - -That is our principal asset. Seven precious days in which to turn round. -A hundred and sixty hours. In that time----’ - -There was a knock at the door, and a page entered with a telegram. - -Simon Lock opened it hurriedly. The message ran: - -‘Sorry must withdraw offer contained in our letter yesterday. Princesse -shares now thirty-five.--Gaunt and Griffiths.’ - -The erstwhile Napoleon passed the orange-coloured paper to Sir Arthur -Custer. - -‘No answer,’ he said calmly to the page. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII--THE VASE - -The sensation of the next day’s Stock Exchange was the unsuccessfulness -of the attempts of Simon Lock’s brokers--he employed several different -firms--to buy La Princesse shares. It was not definitely stated who -wanted these shares, but everyone seemed to be aware that Simon Lock was -the man in the hole. The Exchange laughed quietly to itself; it did not -dare to laugh aloud, for Simon Lock was still a person to be feared. -Not a single share was to be obtained at any price; they had all been -withdrawn from the market. In vain Simon Lock tried to discover -the holders. The identity of the holders seemed to be wrapped in -impenetrable mystery. He went to one man, a member of the Westralian -market, who varied the excitements of the Exchange by the excitements -of prodigious play at Monte Carlo, and took him out to lunch. The great -Simon Lock actually took this man, a nonentity in the distinguished -financial circles in which Simon moved, out to lunch at a famous and -expensive restaurant, where those City men who want real turtle soup can -always get it. - -‘My people sold you ten thousand Princesse shares the other day,’ said -Simon Lock ingratiatingly to this man. - -‘True,’ said the man cautiously, ‘at three.’ ‘Just so,’ said Lock; ‘and -we have to deliver in a week.’ - -‘In a week,’ repeated the man absently. - -‘Well, look here,’ said Simon Lock, making a sudden plunge, ‘we don’t -want to deliver; it doesn’t suit us. See?’ - -‘You don’t want to deliver? Why not?’ ‘Never mind why. The question is, -what will you take to release us from the contract?’ - -‘Nothing.’ - -‘You’ll release us for nothing?’ - -‘I mean I can’t release you, Mr. Lock,’ said the man with formal -politeness. ‘My clients have given me positive instructions.’ - -‘Who are your clients?’ - -‘That I am not at liberty to say.’ - -‘Tell me who your clients are,’ said Simon Lock, ‘and I’ll give you five -thousand down.’ - -The man shook his head sadly. He would have liked that five thousand, -but he dared not accept it. - -‘Are you acting for Gaunt and Griffiths?’ asked Simon Lock. - -‘No,’ said the man, glad to be able to give a positive answer. - -‘Waiter, the bill,’ Simon Lock cried, and then gave a sigh. - -The bill came to thirty shillings--thirty shillings wasted! He reflected -that in a few weeks’ time, unless something happened, he might be in -serious need of that thirty shillings. Nevertheless, such is human -nature, the idea of Simon Lock being hard up for thirty shillings was so -amusing to him that he could not dismiss a smile. The other man wondered -what evil that smile portended. - -Simon Lock proceeded from the restaurant to the offices of Gaunt and -Griffiths. He demanded to see Mr. Gaunt, the venerable head of the firm, -and Mr. Gaunt kept him, Simon Lock, waiting ten minutes! Simon Lock had -not suffered such an insult for years. At his name the most obdurate -doors were accustomed to open instantly. - -‘Well, Mr. Gaunt,’ he said, with an affectation of breezy familiarity, -when at length he was admitted, ‘I’ve just called about the matter of -those Princesse shares. How many can you offer?’ - -‘We can offer ten thousand, Mr. Lock.’ - -‘At thirty-five?’ - -‘At thirty-five.’ - -‘That means three hundred and fifty thousand pounds for your holding?’ - -‘Exactly.’ - -‘Don’t you wish you may get it, Mr. Gaunt? Eh! eh!’ - -He laughed gaily, but suddenly it occurred to him that his laugh sounded -hollow and foolish, and he stopped. - -‘What do you mean?’ asked Mr. Gaunt gravely. - -‘I mean,’ said Simon Lock lamely, ‘that the price is, of course, a fancy -one. You know the market is a bit tight, and you’re playing a game. -You’ll take less than thirty-five if you really want to sell.’ - -‘Our firm is not in the habit of playing games, Mr. Lock. And, by the -way, your last words bring us to the point. You say “if we really want -to sell.” The fact is, we don’t want to sell. You will remember that it -was you who came first to us to ask if we had any shares to offer. We -made inquiries, and found some. Our clients----’ - -‘Would you mind telling me,’ Simon Lock interrupted, ‘who your clients -are?’ - -‘It would be useless for you to approach them personally,’ said Mr. -Gaunt. - -‘I don’t want to approach them personally. I shall not dream of such -a breach of etiquette,’ said Simon Lock, with an assumed fervour of -righteousness. ‘I merely wanted to know, out of curiosity.’ - -‘I regret that I cannot satisfy your curiosity, Mr. Lock.’ - -‘Then that is your last word, Mr. Gaunt--ten thousand at thirty-five?’ - -A boy entered with a telegram, which Mr. Gaunt perused slowly through -his gold-rimmed spectacles. - -‘No,’ said Mr. Gaunt; ‘I regret to say---at forty. I have just received -further instructions by telegraph.’ - -He waved the telegram in the air. - -Simon Lock’s face grew ugly, and he spoke with ominous coldness. - -‘Someone seems disposed to make fun of me, Mr. Gaunt,’ he said. ‘I don’t -know who it is, but I shall find out; and when I do find out, there will -be trouble for that someone. I’ll let this cursed city know that Simon -Lock is not to be trifled with.’ - -‘Good-day,’ said Mr. Gaunt calmly. - -[Illustration: 0232] - -Simon Lock went out furious. On the pavement outside he met the -office-boy who had brought in the telegram to Mr. Gaunt. - -‘Where are you going to, my boy?’ asked Simon Lock kindly. - -‘To the post-office, sir,’ said the boy. - -‘So am I. Now would you like to earn a couple of sovereigns easily?’ -Simon Lock inquired. - -‘Yes, sir,’ said the boy, and added, ‘if it’s all square. Sovereigns -ain’t flying about, you know.’ - -‘It’s all square. You won’t do any harm to anyone by earning it. All I -want you to do is to go into the post-office and say that on the last -telegram sent to your firm the name of the office of despatch isn’t -stamped clearly. Ask them to refer and tell you what it is. They know -you, I suppose?’ - -‘Oh yes, sir.’ - -‘Well, run along.’ - -The boy, dazzled by the glitter of sovereigns, went. Simon Lock waited -for him outside the post-office. - -‘What’s the answer?’ he asked when the boy came out. - -‘They said I ought to have brought the form with me,’ said the boy, -‘but I talked to ’em like a father. I reckon I know how to manage them -girls.’ - -‘And what’s the name of the place?’ - -‘Hockliffe.’ - -‘Here’s your two sovereigns,’ said Simon Lock gladly. - -The lad capered down the street in the exuberance of joy. - -Simon had learnt something. And yet, when he thought over what he had -learnt, he seemed to think somehow that it was valueless to him. He had -guessed all along who was at the bottom of the La Princesse business. -His guess had been confirmed--that was all. He had threatened that, when -he knew, he would do such and such dreadful things; but what could he, -in fact, do? Should he send for Raphael Craig and threaten him? With -what? It would be absurd to threaten with dismissal from a post worth -at most a thousand a year a man who stood to gain hundreds of thousands -from you. No; that manoeuvre would not serve. At last he decided that -he would pay a surprise visit of inspection to the Kilburn office of the -British and Scottish Bank, and then act as circumstances dictated. - -He jumped into a hansom. - -‘Kilburn,’ he said shortly. - -‘What ho!’ exclaimed the driver, not caring for such a long journey; -‘Kilburn, eh? What’s the matter with the Tuppenny Toob?’ - -However, Simon Lock insisted on being driven to Kilburn, and was duly -driven thither, though at a pace which suited the horse better than it -suited Simon Lock. The latter revenged himself--but not on the horse--by -paying the precise legal fare. - -He walked into the bank. No one knew him. His august presence caused no -flutter of excitement. The cashier inquired briefly what he wanted. - -‘The manager,’ said Simon Lock. - -‘Mr. Craig?’ - -‘If you please.’ - -‘Mr. Craig is taking his annual holiday.’ - -‘Thanks,’ said Simon Lock, grinding his teeth, and walked out. He had -experienced exactly the same rebuff as Richard Redgrave a few days -previously. - -That evening, though he had several engagements, including one to dine -at the house of a Marquis in Park Lane, Simon Lock dined at home in -Manchester Square. The entire household trembled, for the formidable -widower was obviously in a silent and bitter rage. He found the -indefatigable Oakley in the library. - -‘Has that ass Custer been here again?’ he asked. - -‘No, sir,’ said Oakley; ‘that ass Sir Arthur Custer has not been here -within my knowledge.’ - -Many a clerk of Simon Lock’s had suffered sudden dismissal for a far -slighter peccadillo than this sally on the part of Mr. Oakley. The fact -was, Simon Lock was too surprised at the pleasantry, coming as it did -from a man who seldom joked, to take any practical notice of it. The two -men--the clerk and the Napoleon of finance--glanced at each other. - -‘You are in a devilish merry humour tonight, Oakley!’ exclaimed Simon -Lock. - -‘It is my birthday, sir.’ - -‘How old are you?’ - -‘Between thirty and sixty, sir.’ - -‘Listen,’ said Lock: ‘you shall come and dine with me. I never knew you -in this mood before. I don’t feel like laughing myself, and I may give -you the sack before we get past the fish; but come if you like.’ - -‘With pleasure, sir.’ - -So they dined together in the great diningroom of the mansion, with a -footman apiece, and a butler behind the footmen. Mr. Oakley’s mood was -certainly singular to the last degree. Some people might have thought -that his careless hilarity was due to the effects of intoxication, but -this was not the case. And yet surely no one except a drunken man -would have dared to behave to Simon Lock as he behaved. Mr. Oakley made -deliberate fun of his master before the three menials, and the master -never flinched nor jibbed. The fish was safely passed without an -explosion, and the joint, the poultry, the sweets, and the priceless -Cheshire cheese followed without mishap. When the coffee and cigars came -round Simon Lock dismissed his servants. - -‘Oakley,’ he said, ‘why are you going to give me notice to leave?’ - -‘I had no intention of leaving you, sir.’ - -‘I could swear,’ said Lock, ‘that you had had the offer of a better -place, and were just amusing yourself with me before giving notice. -It would be like you to do that, Oakley. You were always a bit of a -mystery. I suppose you have come to the conclusion that Simon Lock’s -career is over?’ - -‘Nothing of the kind, sir. I have merely been jolly because it is my -birthday.’ - -‘Well, Oakley, as it is your birthday, I don’t mind confessing to you -that I am in something of a hole.’ - -‘Over the La Princesse shares?’ - -‘Yes.’ - -‘It is a pity,’ said Oakley, ‘that we have been unable to lay our hands -on Richard Redgrave.’ - -‘You think, then, Oakley, that Redgrave, if we could catch him and make -him speak, might be able to throw light on this little affair?’ - -‘At any rate,’ said Oakley, ‘he might tell you why he so suddenly threw -up his job.’ - -‘Yes, I would give something to get hold of Redgrave.’ - -‘I felt that so strongly, sir, that I have myself been down to his place -twice.’ - -‘And have discovered nothing?’ - -‘Nothing. But----’ - -‘Well, what is it?’ - -‘I was just thinking about the death of Featherstone. Featherstone -lived in a couple of rooms in Blenheim Mansions, off the Edgware Road. -Furnished rooms they were, let by a woman who has two flats on the same -floor, and lets them out in small quantities to bachelors.’ - -‘Yes?’ - -‘I wanted a couple of rooms myself.’ - -‘Have you not sufficient accommodation here?’ - -‘I wanted, as I was saying, a couple of rooms myself, and I had a fancy -to take the two rooms once occupied by the deceased Featherstone. It was -a morbid fancy, perhaps. The landlady seemed to think so. Anyhow, I took -them. I entered into possession this afternoon, and locked the door.’ - -‘Did you expect to see his ghost? Featherstone killed himself at the -bank, not in his rooms.’ - -‘I am aware of it, sir,’ said Oakley. ‘I did not expect to see his -ghost; I merely wanted to look round.’ - -‘Look round for what?’ - -‘For anything interesting that I might be able to see.’ - -‘But surely the police had searched?’ - -‘Yes, but they had found nothing. And I knew how anxious you were -to find out anything that might be discovered about Feather-stone’s -suicide.’ - -‘Was that your reason for taking the rooms?’ Simon Lock sneered. - -‘Why not?’ said Oakley. ‘Why should it not have been my reason? I have -always been loyal to you, sir.’ - -‘Well, well, did you find anything interesting, any trace of evidence -that might clear up the mystery?’ - -‘There was apparently nothing in the rooms except the ordinary furniture -of an ordinary lodging. In the bedroom a bed, a dressing-table, a -washstand, a small table, a small wardrobe, two chairs, a small carpet, -a few framed prints, and some nails behind the door. Nothing that -could be called evidence. In the sitting-room--rather more elaborately -furnished--were a dining-table, six chairs, an easy-chair, a firescreen, -a large carpet, two footstools, a small sideboard, an old “Canterbury,” - a mirror, some oleographs framed in German gold, and a few vases on the -mantelpiece. Here is one of the vases.’ - -Mr. Oakley jumped from the table and took from Simon Lock’s own -mantelpiece a small vase, whose intruding presence Simon Lock had not -noticed there. Mr. Oakley handed it carefully to Mr. Lock. - -‘Do you notice anything peculiar about it?’ he asked. - -Simon Lock examined the vase attentively. It was in the shape of a -cylinder, about seven inches high and three inches in diameter, -and evidently a Staffordshire imitation of classic pottery. The -ground-colour of the exterior was a brilliant red, and on this red were -depicted several classic figures in white, with black outlines. Round -the top edge the vase had been gilded. The interior surface of the vase -was highly glazed. - -‘No,’ said Simon Lock, ‘I see nothing peculiar about it.’ - -‘Neither did I at first, sir,’ said Mr. Oakley; ‘but see here.’ - -He wetted the end of his finger, and drew from the interior of the vase -a roll of stiffish white writing-paper. - -‘That roll of paper,’ he said, ‘must have been dropped into the vase, -whereupon it widened out till it filled the vase. The width of the paper -happened to be exactly the height of the vase, and so the paper looked -exactly like the internal surface of the vase. The resemblance would -deceive almost anyone. I thought, as you did, that the vase was -absolutely empty, but it was not.’ - -‘And the paper?’ asked Simon Lock. - -‘The paper,’ said Mr. Oakley, holding the strangely hidden document in -his hand, ‘is double, as you see. On the inside it is filled with small -writing, very small writing, and the signature is that of Featherstone. -I have read it, and I have brought it here as a surprise for you--I hope -a pleasant surprise. Hence what you were pleased to call my devilish -merry humour.’ - -‘Give it me,’ said Simon Lock briefly. - -His voice trembled. - -‘Here it is, sir.’ - -Simon Lock took the paper, and began to read with difficulty. - -‘Turn another light on,’ he said, and Mr. Oakley obeyed. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV--FEATHERSTONE’S RECITAL - -And this is what Mr. Simon Lock read, while Mr. Oakley watched his -master’s face. The calligraphy of the document was miraculously neat and -small, and the thing had all the appearance of a declaration formally -made: - -‘Statement of me, Robert John Dalrymple Featherstone, made on the day -before my death. (Here followed the date.) - -‘This statement is intended to be perfectly plain and simple. I put down -facts as they occur to me in the most straightforward possible way. -I have never before in my life undertaken any sort of literary -composition, beyond letters to acquaintances. My parents dying when I -was a boy, and me being an only child, I have had no relatives; nor have -I ever had an intimate friend. I do not know why I am at the trouble to -write out this statement now. I only know that I am compelled to make -it by an instinct, or an impulse, which overpowers my ordinary -common-sense. It cannot be a matter of any importance that the world -should understand the circumstances under which I am led to commit -suicide. The world will not care. And, on the other hand, this statement -may work harm, or at least annoyance, to one whom I love. Nevertheless -I must write it. Everyone, perhaps, who commits suicide feels this -tremendous desire to explain to the world the reasons of his act--that -act for which there is no remedy, that act which he knows, if he is a -Christian, must involve him in eternal remorse. - -‘As I write I have a sort of feeling that what I put down may be printed -in the newspapers. This feeling causes me to want to write unnaturally, -in a strained and showy measure. I shall try to avoid this. All my life -I have lived quiet and retired. This was not because I was modest. I am -not more modest than other mediocre men. It was because I was shy and -awkward and reserved by nature in the presence of others. When I am -alone I feel bumptious, audacious; I feel like a popular actor. - -‘But let me begin. - -‘My age is fifty-six. For thirty years I have been in the service of -the British and Scottish Banking Corporation, Limited. For eight -years before that I was in the service of a small private bank in -Northamptonshire. I have always served the British and Scottish -faithfully, to the best of my ability. Yet after thirty years I was only -a cashier in a suburban branch with a salary of two hundred a year--such -an income as many a more fortunate man spends on cigars and neckties. I -do not, however, blame anyone for this. I do not blame myself. I realize -clearly that I am a very mediocre man, and deserved nothing better. I -never had any talent for banking. I never had any talent for anything. -I became a bank clerk through the persuasion and influence of a distant -uncle. I agreed with him that it was an honourable and dignified -vocation. It has suited me. I got used to the official duties. I soon -learnt how to live within my income. I had no vicious tastes--no -tastes of any sort. I had no social gifts. I merely did my work -conscientiously. My evenings I spent reading the papers and periodicals -and smoking. I have smoked two ounces of Old Judge per week regularly -for five-and-twenty years. I have never smoked before lunch except -during my annual fortnight at the seaside. Every morning at breakfast I -have read the _Standard_. My political opinions have never varied. - -‘Thus my life has been one of absolute sameness. There was no joy in -it except the satisfaction of regular habits, and there was no sorrow, -until last year but one (May 28th), when Miss Juana Craig walked into -the office at Kilburn. - -‘She said, “Is my father in his office?” - -‘I did not know her, had never seen her before, but I guessed at once -that she was the daughter of Mr. Raphael Craig, the manager of our -branch. I say she said, “Is my father in his office?” Nothing beyond -those words, and yet they had the same effect on me as if they had been -the most magnificent piece of oratory. I was literally struck dumb with -emotion. There was something peculiar in her rich voice that overcame -me. She was obliged to repeat the question. - -‘At last I said, “Miss Craig, I presume. No; Mr. Craig is not in, but he -will be in shortly.” ‘I stammered this as though I had been repeating a -badly-learnt lesson. - -‘She said, “Then I will wait in his room, if I may.” - -‘The way she said those last three words, “if I may,” made me feel -dizzy. There was a sort of appeal in them. Of course I knew it was only -politeness--formal politeness--yet I was deeply touched by it. And I -felt ashamed that this beautiful girl should, in a way, have to beg a -favour from old me. - -‘I said, “With pleasure.” And then I took her into Mr. Craig’s room, and -she sat down, and said what wet weather we were having, and I tried to -talk to her. But she was too beautiful. I could not help thinking all -the time that my hair was grey, and my moustache part grey and part -sandy, and that I had my office coat on, with paper shields over my -wrist-bands, and that I was only five feet two inches in height. At last -I came out of the room, and as I did so all the clerks looked at me, -laughing, and I blushed violently. I do not remember ever blushing -before. - -‘One clerk said jokingly, “Hello, Feather (they called me Feather), what -ha’ you been up to in there?” - -‘If I had been a bigger man I would have knocked him down. - -‘I had never had anything to do with women, except, in a purely business -way, with our lady customers. Our lady customers all liked having their -cheques cashed, etc., by me, because I was always so strictly polite to -them. But, strange to say, I could not be polite to Miss Craig, though -never before had I wanted so badly to be polite to any woman. - -‘After that day Miss Craig seemed to call every day, or nearly every -day, for her father, just after closing time in the afternoon. She was -on a motor-car, and they went off together up towards Edgware, Mr. Craig -having a house in the country near Dunstable. Sometimes I came out on -to the pavement to see them off. Once or twice I waved good-bye to them, -and once I actually kissed my hand to Miss Juana. It was a very daring -thing to do, and after I had done it I wished I had not! done it, but I -could not help doing it. She did not take offence, and the next day she -was more charming than ever. She is the sweetest, most womanly creature -that God ever made. My wonder is that the other clerks did not seem -to see this. They never went further than to say that she was a pretty -girl. I despised them. I despise them now more than ever. - -‘One Friday afternoon Mr. Craig said, “Featherstone, have you anything -particular to do this week-end?” I said that I had not. He said, “Well, -will you come up with us to-morrow, and spend the week-end with us?” - -‘Before I could answer anything Miss Juana said, “Yes, do, Mr. -Featherstone, there’s a dear man. We should love to have you.” - -‘The charming and adorable creature condescended to joke. I said, “I -gladly accept your very kind invitation.” - -‘So I went up and stayed at their house till the Monday morning. Miss -Juana drove down on the motor-car, me sitting by her side, and Mr. Craig -behind. It was very enjoyable. - -‘Mr. Craig himself was very polite to me during my visit, and so was -Miss Teresa, Miss Juana’s sister. Miss Teresa drove us back to London on -the Monday morning. And for this I was sorry; not that I have a word to -say against Miss Teresa, who is a pretty enough girl, and amiable. Just -before we started on the journey to London Mr. Craig put a small but -heavy portmanteau under the back seat of the motor-car. I asked him what -that was, merely from idle curiosity, and he said, “Money, my lad.” The -two ladies were not about I laughed, thinking he was joking. But that -day he called me into his private room and said, in a very ordinary tone -of voice, “Featherstone, here is fifty pounds in new silver. Pay it into -my private account.” - -‘“Yes, sir,” I said, not thinking. It was the luncheon hour, and nearly -all the clerks were out. I casually examined the silver. Of course I -can distinguish a bad coin in a moment, almost by instinct. I seem to -be mysteriously warned of the approach of a bad coin. But this money was -all right. The next morning Miss Juana called in, and she and I had -a chat. I liked her more and more. And, either I was an insufferably -conceited ass, or she liked me. I knew there was more than thirty years’ -difference between us. But I said to myself, “Pooh! what is thirty -years? A man is as young as he feels.” I knew that I had only an income -of two hundred a year, which might rise to two hundred and twenty-five -or two hundred and fifty; but I said to myself that thousands of people -married happily on less than that. I felt that it was impudent on my -part to aspire to the hand of this angel; but I also said to myself that -it was always impudence that succeeded. - -‘Anyhow, I was madly and deeply in love, I, bank cashier, aged fifty -odd. - -‘Two hours after Miss Juana had called Mr. Craig called me into his room -and said again in a very ordinary tone of voice: “Featherstone, here -is another fifty pounds in silver. Pay it into my private account.” - As before, the money lay in piles on his desk. “Yes, sir,” I said. I -thought it very strange, but my mind was preoccupied with Miss Juana, -and he was Miss Juana’s father, so I said nothing else. Again, most of -the other clerks were out when I filled up the slip and put the cash -into the drawers. All that day I thought of Miss Juana. Let me say now -that I am convinced she had no part in the plot, for it was a plot, -which Mr. Craig laid against me. - -‘At the end of that week Mr. Craig had paid over two hundred pounds’ -worth of new silver into his private account, and these payments -continued. In a fortnight I was asked down to the Craigs’ country house -again. I cannot describe my courtship of Miss Juana. I find my statement -is getting too long. But in any event I could not describe it. It was -the most precious, the only precious fragment of my life. The only -drawback to my timid happiness was Mr. Craig’s attitude to me--a sort -of insinuating attitude, quite at variance with the usual style of this -powerfully-minded and very reticent man. The payments of new silver -continued. In a business of the magnitude of our Kilburn branch the -silver was, of course, distributed in the ordinary routine of affairs -without special notice being taken of it. - -‘One day I proposed to Miss Juana. It was a terrible moment for me. -To this hour I do not know how I dared to do it. To my inconceivable -astonishment and joy Miss Juana said: “You honour me, Mr. Featherstone. -I am a poor girl. My father is not rich. I do not love you, but I like -you, and I esteem you. I accept your hand.” - -‘Later I said to Mr. Craig: “Mr. Craig, I have asked your daughter Juana -to be my wife, and she has done me the honour to consent. Do you also -consent?” - -‘He said in reply: “My dear Featherstone, you will pardon me, but, of -course, I know the amount of your salary. Have you any other resources?” - I said that I had none. - -‘The interview grew strangely complex. I see now that he handled me with -consummate skill and adroitness. It came to this. He said: - -“Assist me in a scheme of mine which is approaching completion, and when -it is complete I will give you twenty thousand pounds. But you will be -bound to secrecy.” - -‘I said to him: “Is your scheme in any way contrary to the law?” - -‘He said: “Frankly, it is. But, Feather-stone, you are in love, and -there is no crime in my scheme.” - -‘I admit that Mr. Craig’s offer of twenty thousand pounds dazzled me -at first, especially as I began instantly to perceive that my life’s -happiness would depend on my acceptance of it. You may ask what right a -man aged fifty odd has to talk of a life’s happiness--a man who -probably has not more than ten years to live. Let me suggest that it is -impossible for any man, however old, not to believe that he will survive -for an indefinitely long period, unless he be actually on his death-bed. - -‘Moreover, I was profoundly in love. I loved with the intense and -restrained passion of, which only a middle-aged man in love for the -first time is capable. No young man, with the facile ardours of youth, -could appreciate my feelings. Be that as it may--and I have no wish at -this solemn hour to attempt to excuse myself--my demeanour certainly -gave Mr. Craig the impression that I had no objection to becoming his -confederate. His face showed that he was pleased--that a weight had been -lifted from his mind. - -‘He said: “Give me your oath that you will disclose nothing of what I am -about to tell you.” - -‘I said: “But suppose I do not see my way----” - -‘He interrupted me very grimly: “What does that matter? Anyhow, I -presume you can see your way to hold your tongue?” - -‘So, not without qualms, I gave him an oath of secrecy. He then told me -that he had been coining silver for many years--that his object had been -to coin a hundred thousand pounds’ worth, and that he was then at the -end of his long task. - -‘I said: “But you just now told me that you had not involved yourself in -any crime; surely to utter false money is a crime?” - -‘He said with sudden anger: “It is not false money; it is perfectly good -money. It is exactly the silver produced by the Mint, and neither you -nor anyone could tell the difference.” - -‘He then explained to me how it was profitable for him, owing to the -very low price of silver, to make real money, good in every respect. He -finished by saying that no one was robbed by his device. - -‘I said: “Excuse me, but the Government is robbed, and, since the -Government represents the public, the public is robbed. You are robbing -the public. Besides, coining is a crime.” - -‘He burst out: “Only in the eyes of the law. It is not a real crime.” - -‘I said, as quietly as I could: “That may be; real or unreal, it is a -crime.” - -‘He went on, apparently not noticing my observation: “Anyhow, I find it -necessary to put this money into circulation at a far quicker rate than -I have previously achieved. The years are slipping by. I have by me vast -accumulations of silver money, and I must negotiate them. I will -tell you my object, Featherstone: it is to take a just revenge upon -a scoundrel who, more than twenty years ago--before her birth--cast a -shadow--a terrible shadow--over the life of the girl whom you love. Will -not that move you?” - -‘I exclaimed: “Juana?” - -‘He said: “Yes, Juana and her sister and their poor mother. I have lived -till now only to carry out that scheme--only to see this man at my feet -ruined and begging for a mercy which I shall not vouchsafe.” - -‘I own that I was moved to sympathy by the fearful earnestness of Mr. -Craig. I asked him who the man was. - -‘He replied: “That I will not tell you, nor will I tell you his sin, -nor the precise nature of my revenge, until you agree to join me. Surely -you, as the professed lover of Juana, will not hesitate for a moment?” - -‘But I did hesitate. - -‘I said: “First, let me ask you one or two questions.” - -‘He said coldly and bitterly: “Ask.” - -‘So I asked: “You want me to help you in passing this coin which has not -come from the Royal Mint?” - -‘He replied with eagerness: “Yes. I want one or two accounts opened at -other banks, and certain operations put into action with financiers and -specie dealers. Also, with your help, I can do a lot at our own bank.” - -‘I said: “It seems to me you have already done something there.” - -‘He laughed, and outlined to me the various means, all very ingenious, -by which he had already disposed of a lot of silver. - -‘I said: “Another question: Am I to understand that if I decline to join -you you will withhold your consent to my marriage with i your daughter?” - -‘He answered: “If now, at this stage, you decline to join me, I would -see both you and Juana dead before I allowed you to marry.” - -‘His manner was ferocious. I could see that he was absolutely -absorbed--that his whole moral being was cankered by this life-long idea -of a mysterious revenge. And though I did not allow him to guess the -fact, I was annoyed at his attempt to intimidate me. I am not to be -intimidated. - -‘I said: “I will think it over, and give you my answer shortly.” - -‘I saw Juana privately, told her that her father had not given me a -definite answer, and returned to London in order that I might think the -matter over with the more calmness. In the same house with that angelic -presence it was impossible for me to think at all. I deem it right to -state that I believed--and still believe--that Mr. Craig was telling me -the truth, and that he was of sound mind. I truly believed--and still -believe--that some man, the object of Mr. Craig’s hate, had deeply -wronged Juana, her sister and her mother, and that Mr. Craig was -animated in all that he did by a lofty conception of human justice. I -guessed, further, that there was probably no means by which Mr. Craig -could bring this man, whoever he might be, before the tribunals of the -law (how many crimes slip through the wide meshes of the law!), and that -therefore he had no alternative but a private vengeance. The idea of -vengeance on behalf of Juana--that beloved being--appealed strongly to -my deepest feelings. - -‘Nevertheless, on mature consideration, I felt that I could not become a -party to Mr. Craig’s scheme. I have always tried to live an honest life, -and I have never accepted the sophism that the end justifies the means. -In three days I returned to the house near Dunstable and told Mr. Craig -my decision. He was enraged. - -‘He said: “Then you prefer to give up Juana?” - -‘I said: “Do you think you are acting fairly in insisting that no man -shall be Juana’s husband unless he consents to commit a crime against -the law?” - -‘He said: “Bosh!” - -‘Before such an argument I was dumb. I saw more and more clearly that -Mr. Craig was what is called a monomaniac, and a very determined and -obdurate one. - -‘After further and useless words, I left him and sought Juana. - -‘I said to her: “Miss Juana, your father forbids us to marry.” - -‘She replied in a strange tone: “My father is a harsh man, Robert. -He can be very cruel. Although I feel that he loves Teresa and myself -passionately, you can have no idea of the life we live here. Sometimes -it is terrible. Teresa is my father’s favourite, and I--I sometimes hate -him. I hate him now. Perhaps because I cannot comprehend him. Robert, I -will marry you without his consent.” - -‘I cannot describe my emotions at that moment. Her use of my Christian -name thrilled me through and through. There was something in the tone of -her voice which caused strange and exquisite vibrations in me. I thank -God now that I had strength to behave as an English gentleman should -behave. - -‘I said: “Miss Juana, your kindness overwhelms me. But I should be -unworthy of your love if I took advantage of it. I am an old-fashioned -man, with old-fashioned views, and I could not marry a lady in the face -of her parent’s opposition.” - -‘Without a word, she ran out of the house. I saw that she was crying. A -few minutes afterwards I saw her galloping wildly down the road on her -strawberry-roan mare. She was the most magnificent and superb horsewoman -I have ever set eyes on. - -‘The incident, as the phrase goes, was closed. - -I had enjoyed the acquaintance of Miss Juana for nearly twelve months. I -enjoyed it no longer. The relations between Mr. Craig and myself resumed -their old formality. He was nothing but the bank manager; I was nothing -but the cashier. The pity was that I was bound to secrecy as regards his -scheme; and I saw that his scheme was maturing. Without the slightest -scruple, he made use of me to aid in disposing of his silver through the -bank. He could depend on my honour, though my honour made a criminal of -me. Things got worse and worse. His methods grew bolder and bolder. -A year passed. One day he told another clerk in the office that a -great-uncle had died and left him a hundred thousand pounds in new -silver. He turned to me, who happened to be close by. - -‘“A strange fellow! I have mentioned his peculiarities to you before -now, have I not, Featherstone?” - -‘Scarcely knowing what I said, I answered, “Yes.” - -‘I was thus by an audacious stroke made a party to his dodge for -explaining away the extraordinary prevalence of new silver. Previously -to this I had noticed that he was drawing large cheques in favour of a -firm of stockbrokers. - -‘At length I could stand it no more. I went into his private room and -said: “Mr. Craig, either you must cease your illegal proceedings, or you -must release me from my oath of secrecy.” - -‘He said flatly: “I shall do neither.” - -‘Of course I could see that my request was foolish. He had me between -his thumb and finger. - -‘I then said: “Very well, Mr. Craig, there is one alternative left to -me--I resign my position in the bank. You force me to do this.” - -‘He said: “As you wish.” - -‘He was relentless. So I was cast on the world, at my age. I had no hope -of obtaining another situation. But what else could I do? By remaining -in the service of the bank, and allowing Mr. Craig to make it the -channel for disposing of false money, I was betraying my trust to the -bank. The truth was I ought to have done a year before what I did then. - -‘My savings amounted to about a hundred pounds. - -‘Soon after this final step I discovered, to my equal grief and -astonishment, that Miss Juana had left her father’s house--doubtless -he had practically driven her forth--and was earning her living in a -travelling circus. I ascertained where the circus was, and I had an -interview with Miss Juana one night after the performance. Miss Juana -was in her circus-dress, a curiously showy riding-habit, and she had -paint on her dear face. The interview was inexpressibly painful to me. I -cannot narrate it in full. - -‘I said: “Miss Juana, marry me. I implore you! Never mind your father’s -consent. Anything to save you from this. I implore you to marry me! I -love you more than ever.” - -‘I did not tell her that I had no means of livelihood now. I had -absolutely forgotten the fact. - -‘She replied: “Why, Mr. Featherstone, I am getting an honest living.” - -‘I said again: “Marry me.” - -‘I could not argue. - -‘She said: “A year ago I would have married you. I liked you. But I -cannot marry you now.” - -‘I asked madly: “Why?” - -‘She replied: “Things have happened in the meantime.” - -‘I returned to London last night and bought a revolver. It is my -intention to kill myself in Mr. Craig’s own room while he is out at -lunch. This seems to me proper, but I may be mad. Who knows? My brain -may be unhinged. As for my oath of secrecy, Raphael Craig cannot demand -secrecy from a dead man. If this document leads to his punishment, let -it. I care not. And Juana, as she says herself, is getting an honest -living. She is independent of her terrible father. - -‘It is half-past one o’clock in the morning. - -In twelve hours I shall be in the beyond. I will place this statement in -a vase on the mantelpiece. Let who will find it. - -‘Given under my dying hand, - -‘Robert J. Dalrymple Featherstone.’ - -***** - -When Simon Lock had finished the perusal of this document he passed his -hand before his eyes. The dead man’s handwriting, although perfectly -clear, was so fine that even the delicate shades of Simon Lock’s -electric chandelier had not been able to prevent the august financier -from feeling the effects of the strain; but the condition of his eyes -was a trifle. He experienced a solid and satisfying joy--such joy as he -had not felt for a very long time. - -‘You have read it?’ he questioned Oakley. - -‘I took that liberty, sir,’ said Oakley, who was now the old Oakley -again--formal, dry, submissive. - -‘And what did you think of it, Oakley?’ - -‘I thought, sir, that it might prove useful to you.’ - -‘Did you assume that I was the unnamed man against whom this wonderful -Raphael Craig is directing what he calls his vengeance?’ - -‘Yes, sir.’ - -‘Ah!’ breathed Simon Lock. ‘I’ve just got this in time.’ - -‘You think that you have got it in time, sir?’ - -‘Yes, my young friend. It is a nice question whether it constitutes -legal evidence, but anyhow, it constitutes a lever which I think I can -use pretty effectively upon Mr. Craig.’ - -‘Then you deem it valuable, sir?’ - -‘Yes,’ said Simon Lock. - -‘What do you think it is worth to you, sir?’ - -Oakley looked peculiarly at his master, who paused. - -‘Well, Oakley,’ he said at length, ‘since you put it in that way, it -is worth, we’ll say, a hundred pounds to me. I’ll draw you a cheque. It -will pay the expenses of your summer holiday.’ - -‘Thank you, sir,’ said Oakley impassively. ‘May I just glance at the -document again, sir? There was one point----’ - -Simon Lock handed him the dead man’s message. Oakley took it, folded it -carefully, and placed it in his pocket. - -‘What the devil are you doing?’ Simon Lock demanded angrily. - -‘I was venturing to think, sir, that, after all, the document belonged -to me by right of discovery. And since I have the misfortune to differ -from you as to its monetary value----’ - -Simon Lock jumped up, and then he looked rather cautiously at Mr. -Oakley’s somewhat muscular frame. - -‘Look here----’ Simon Lock began imperatively. - -‘In my hip-pocket I have a revolver, Mr. Lock,’ said Mr. Oakley. ‘Force, -therefore, would be a mistake.’ - -‘I see,’ said Simon Lock. ‘Well, what do you think the thing worth?’ - -‘Ten thousand pounds,’ said Mr. Oakley imperturbably. ‘I will hand it -over to you in exchange for a promissory note for that amount payable at -three months.’ - -There was a long pause. Simon Lock had the precious gift of knowing when -he was beaten. - -‘I accept,’ he said. - -‘Thank you; here is the document,’ said Oakley when he had received the -promissory note. - -After Simon Lock had transferred the paper to his own pocket he -remarked: - -‘Oakley, the position which you occupy here is quite beneath your high -capabilities. I dismiss you. I will write you out a cheque for a month’s -wages. Leave the house within an hour.’ - -‘With pleasure, sir,’ said Mr. Oakley, exactly as he had accepted the -invitation to dinner. - - - - -CHAPTER XV--ARRIVAL OF SIMON - -At Queen’s Farm, Hockliffe, the excitations of the terrible evening -on which Juana faced her father, and on which Richard and Teresa were -betrothed, seemed to have exhausted the actors in those trying -scenes. Only Teresa herself maintained her spirits through a night -of sleeplessness, and Teresa’s eyes disclosed a simple and profound -happiness of the soul, which proved how well the forced engagement with -Richard suited her inclinations. As for Richard, he, too, was happy in -the betrothal, but his experience of the world--a thousandfold greater -than Teresa’s--was responsible for forebodings that filled him with -apprehension. He could not but feel that disaster--perhaps immediate -disaster--waited upon the schemes of Raphael Craig, those schemes of -whose success the old man was so proudly confident Richard guessed, -naturally, that Raphael Craig was waging war on Simon Lock, and his -common-sense predicted with assurance that in this struggle of the weak -against the strong the strong would crush and the weak would be crushed. -The exact nature of Raphael Craig’s plan, of which Richard was still -in ignorance, seemed to the young man to be a matter of comparative -unimportance. He perceived, at any rate, that the campaign was a -financial one. That was enough; in the realm of finance Simon Lock -had long been peerless, and though, as the newspaper hinted, Simon was -temporarily at a disadvantage, it was absurd to pretend for an instant -that Raphael Craig, undistinguished, even unknown, could win. - -So ran the course of Richard’s thoughts as he lay resting during the -early hours of the morning on the Chesterfield in the drawing-room. -Raphael Craig had retired to his room. Teresa had also retired. Juana -and Bridget were attending on the stricken detective. Each had expressed -her intention of sitting up all night. Whenever Richard’s somewhat -somnolent meditations turned in the direction of the detective he -could not help thinking that here, in this sick man, helpless, hurt, -delirious, was the instrument of Simon Lock’s ultimate success. Nolan -knew, or Nolan shrewdly surmised now, that Raphael Craig had grossly -outraged the Coinage Acts. Nolan had doubtless collected a sufficient -body of evidence at least to secure a committal for trial, and so it was -an indubitable fact to be faced that, immediately Nolan recovered, -or partially recovered, the forces of the law would be set in motion -against Craig--against Craig, the father of his betrothed. Then--Queen’s -Farm would doubtless explode like a bomb! - -But was Raphael Craig the father of his betrothed? Had Juana lied on -the previous night, or had the old man lied? Here were questions which -Richard preferred to shirk rather than to answer. - -A much more important question was, What would Raphael Craig be -likely to do in regard to Nolan? As things stood, Nolan was at his -mercy--helpless in his house. Certainly Craig would by this time have -arrived at the conclusion that instantly Nolan was enabled to leave the -house his own ruin would occur. Richard did not believe that Craig’s -scheme could possibly succeed after Craig was clapped in prison as a -coiner. He, indeed, suspected that Craig had only made this boast in -order to dispel any suspicions which Richard might entertain as to the -bodily safety of Nolan within the precincts of Queen’s Farm. - -Yet it came to that: Richard was not without fear that the old man might -attempt to murder Nolan. Nolan dead, and his body disposed of, Craig was -safe. It was a frightful thought, but Raphael Craig’s demeanour whenever -he referred to his life-long scheme of vengeance gave at least some -excuse for it. - -At eight o’clock there was a tap at the drawing-room door. Richard -jumped up and came out of the room. Bridget stood before him. - -‘Miss Teresa up?’ he asked. - -‘No,’ said the housekeeper, ‘and not likely to be yet, the darling! I -came to give ye a hint, Mr. Redgrave, that ye might do worse than seek a -breakfast down in the village, at the White Horse.’ - -‘Micky, ye mean? Better--though the spalpeen doesn’t deserve God’s -goodness nor Miss Juana’s loving care.’ - -‘Mr. Craig up?’ he asked further ‘No,’ said Bridget. - -‘Yes,’ said Richard, ‘I’ll go down to the village, and come back again -in a couple of hours.’ - -‘How’s the patient?’ he asked. - -He passed quietly out of the house. He had, however, not the slightest -intention of going down to the village. Determined to ignore the fact -that he had been caught as a spy once, and the risk that he might be -caught again, he turned to the left as soon as he was out of the garden -and crept under the garden wall up to the sheds, which he cautiously -entered. Safely within the range of buildings, he soon found an outlook -therefrom which commanded a view of the house--a vantage-point whence he -could see without being seen. - -Nothing unusual occurred. Indeed, save that Bridget came forth to attend -to the mares, having doubtless been instructed to do so by Teresa, -nothing occurred at all till a little after nine o’clock. Then Mr. Craig -issued quickly out of the house, went along the boreen, and down towards -the village. At a discreet distance Richard followed him, for he deemed -it his bounden-duty to keep an eye on Raphael Craig until Nolan, the -detective, should have departed from the house. It was not pleasant for -him to think of his prospective father-in-law as a potential murderer, -but he had no alternative save to face the possibility. It is a full -mile from Queen’s Farm to Hockliffe village. Mr. Craig, however, walked -quickly, and the distance was soon accomplished. The old man went into -the general store, which is also the post-office--a tiny place -crammed with the produce of the East and of the West. After a moment’s -hesitation, Richard also walked towards the post-office. When he reached -it, Mr. Craig was in the act of paying for a telegram. - -‘Hullo! Good-morning,’ said Raphael Craig blithely. ‘What are you doing -here?’ - -‘I came for some stamps,’ Richard answered. - -‘Hum! They said you’d gone down to the village for breakfast. What with -one thing and another, our household arrangements are somewhat upset, -I’m afraid. Ta-ta!’ - -Raphael Craig left the shop, apparently quite incurious as to Richard’s -doings or plans for the day. Richard was decidedly reassured by the -man’s demeanour. He seemed as sane, as calm, as collected as a bank -manager could be. And yet--last night! - -Richard breakfasted at the hostelry of the White Horse, and then walked -slowly back to Queen’s Farm. As he approached the house he met Richard -Craig again going down to the village. Four times that day the old man -went down himself to the village post-office to despatch telegrams, and -he openly stated that he was going to despatch telegrams. - -Teresa was in the orchard, and Richard went to her. He said that he did -not see how he could stay longer in the house, that he ought to return -to London, and yet that he scarcely cared to leave. - -To his surprise, Teresa appeared agitated and distressed at the mere -idea of his leaving. - -‘Don’t go at present,’ she urged him. ‘Stay at least another twenty-four -hours. Just think how I am fixed. That man ill and delirious--by the -way, Juana won’t leave his side--and father and Juana not on speaking -terms. There is no knowing what may happen. We needn’t pretend to each -other, Dick, that there isn’t something very peculiar and mysterious -about father. I dare say you know more than I do, and I shan’t ask -questions. I don’t want to know, Dick, so long as you’re here. But do -stay a bit. Stay till something turns up.’ - -‘Till something turns up?’ He repeated her phrase. ‘What do you mean?’ - -‘I don’t know,’ she said simply; ‘but stay.’ - -He kissed her. - -That night Richard was provided with a bed, but he found himself unable -to sleep on it. About the middle of the night--or so it seemed to -him--there was a rap on his door. - -‘Mr. Redgrave.’ - -The voice was Juana’s. - -‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘Anything the matter?’ - -‘Can you come and speak to Mr. Nolan? He wants to speak to you, and -nothing else will satisfy him.’ - -Richard rose and dressed, and came out on the landing, where a lamp -was burning. Juana, fully dressed, her eyes ringed with fatigue, stood -waiting for him. She beckoned him down the side-passage, and he entered -the room occupied by the sick man. - -‘Shut the door,’ the sick man commanded in a febrile voice. - -As though it had been previously arranged between them, Juana kept out -of the room. Richard and the detective were alone together. - -‘You’re looking better,’ Richard said. - -‘Don’t talk so loud,’ said Nolan. ‘That old scoundrel sleeps next door. -Yes, I’m better,’ he went on rather wearily, shifting the position of a -pillow, ‘thanks to nursing. I wish to say something to you. You know a -good deal about my business up here. You’ve been on the same business -yourself. Well, look here: if any questions are asked, I don’t want you -to know anything about what I’ve done or what I’ve found out.’ - -‘Whatever do you mean?’ Richard asked. ‘Oh dear!’ the other said -pettishly; ‘can’t you understand? I mean down at Scotland Yard. If any -of ‘em should come to you, you know, say nothing. Fact is, I’m going to -let the old man off, if I can--I’m bound to let him off. It’s all got to -be hushed up, if Mr. Nolan, Esquire, can manage it.’ - -‘Why?’ asked Richard calmly. - -‘Why did you chuck the job up?’ returned Nolan. ‘Can’t I follow your -example?’ - -‘Do you mean that you--er--Miss Juana?’ - -‘Precisely,’ said Nolan. ‘I met her down at Limerick months ago--long -before the death of old Featherstone--when I was engaged on inquiries -about old Craig’s antecedents, to try if I couldn’t throw any light -on the matter of his treasure of new silver, which has interested the -police for a year past. I met her. I hadn’t the least notion that she -was his daughter. I was afraid that I should never see her again. -And then, when I woke up in the cursed little room here and found her -bending over me--by Heaven, it was too much! For the time, I do believe, -it made me worse. She has told me a lot to-day. I haven’t been delirious -since early this morning. Oh yes, Redgrave, I’ve got to chuck it. I -wouldn’t harm that woman, or anything that belonged to her--not to be -Chief of Police in Paris! You and I must put our heads together and -concoct a tale that will satisfy the people in London.’ - -The door opened, and Juana entered with a firm step. - -‘Time’s up,’ she said, looking at the man in bed. ‘I gave you five -minutes, and you’ve had ten. Good-night, Mr. Redgrave--and thanks.’ - -Here indeed was spirited nursing. - -Richard retired to his own room, intending to think things over, but -instead of thinking, for some reason or other, he slept heavily till -nine o’clock. Then he dressed and descended, and, seeing no one about, -went into the garden. Almost at the same moment a light trap drove up to -the garden-gate. Telling the driver not to wait, a man got down from the -vehicle. It was Mr. Simon Lock. - -‘Ah! Mr. Redgrave,’ said Simon Lock, ‘you seem to be at home here. Can -you tell me if Mr. Craig is at home?’ - - - - -CHAPTER XVI--THE INTERVIEW - -At the same moment as Simon Lock spoke a window opened in the upper -story of Queen’s Farm, and Raphael Craig showed his head. Raphael Craig -was fully dressed, and his face had the freshness of morning. Richard -looked apprehensively from one to the other of these old men and old -enemies, expecting from either or both an outburst of wrath--such a -terrible outburst as twenty years might have prepared; but nothing of -the kind happened. - -‘Good-morning, Mr. Lock,’ said Raphael Craig blandly. - -Simon Lock, equally with Richard, was astonished by the mildness of this -greeting. - -‘Good-day to you,’ said Simon Lock. ‘You do not seem surprised to see -me,’ he added. - -‘Not in the least,’ said Craig. ‘On the contrary, I was expecting you.’ - -Simon Lock started. - -‘Ah!’ was all he said. - -‘Excuse me one instant,’ said Craig. ‘I will be down immediately to -welcome you to my house. You will, I trust, take breakfast with us. And -you, too, Redgrave, will breakfast with us. Let me beg you not to run -away as you did yesterday morning.’ - -The bank manager had positively turned courtier! - -On his way down he intercepted Mrs. Bridget between the dining-room and -the kitchen, and told her to have breakfast ready for five within half -an hour. - -‘But----’ began Mrs. Bridget, raising her bony hands. - -‘For five,’ repeated Raphael Craig, ‘in half an hour.’ - -Then he went forward, and invited Simon Lock to enter, and led him to -the drawing-room, and Richard also. His attitude towards his guests, -though a shade formal, was irreproachably hospitable. Anyone could see -that Simon Lock felt himself at a disadvantage. The great and desperate -financier had anticipated a reception utterly different; this suavity -and benignity did not fit in with the plan of campaign which he had -schemed out, and he was nonplussed. - -Once he did manage to put in: - -‘I called to see you, Craig----’ - -‘After breakfast, I pray----’ the other cut him short. - -A gong rang. Raphael Craig rose and opened the drawing-room door, and -the three men passed into the dining-room. Coffee, bacon, and eggs were -on the table. The two girls--Teresa in a light summer frock and Juana -still in her dark habit--stood by the mantelpiece. They were evidently -in a state of great curiosity as to the stranger, the rumour of -whose advent had reached them through Mrs. Bridget. Juana was, beyond -question, perturbed. The fact was that at Teresa’s instigation she had -meant that morning to approach her father amicably, and was fearful of -the upshot. Raphael Craig, however, cut short her suspense. He kissed -both girls on the forehead, and then said: - -‘Mr. Lock, let me introduce my daughter Juana, my daughter Teresa. My -dears, this is Mr. Simon Lock, who has run down to see me on a matter of -business, and will do us the honour of breakfasting with us.’ - -The meal, despite the ordinariness of its service, had the deadly -and tremendous formality of a state dinner at Buckingham Palace. -Conversation, led judicially by the host himself, was kept up without -a break, but Simon Lock distinctly proved that the social arts were not -his forte. The girls talked timidly, like school misses on their best -behaviour, while Richard’s pose and Richard’s words were governed by -more than his characteristic caution. Only Raphael Craig seemed at ease, -and the old man appeared to take a ferocious but restrained delight -in the unnatural atmosphere which he had created. It was as if he saw -written on every face the expectation of some dreadful sequel, and -rejoiced in those signs of fear and dread. His eyes said: ‘Yes, I can -see that you are all desperately uncomfortable. It is well. You are -afraid of something happening, and you shall not be disappointed.’ - -‘Now, girls,’ he said lightly, after the meal was finished, ‘go and -amuse yourselves, and don’t forget your poor patient upstairs.’ - -‘You have someone ill in the house?’ Simon Lock ventured. - -‘Yes,’ said Craig; ‘a fool of a Scotland Yard detective who got himself -into trouble up here by ferreting about.’ - -Simon Lock turned pale. - -‘He was nearly killed,’ Raphael Craig went on. ‘We are nursing him back -to life,’ The old man laughed. ‘And now for our business,’ he said, and -turned to Richard. ‘I will see Mr. Lock in the drawing-room, and I shall -ask you, Mr. Redgrave, to be present at our interview.’ - -‘Is that necessary?’ asked Simon Lock pompously. - -‘I have omitted to tell you,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘that Mr. Richard -Redgrave is my prospective son-in-law, engaged to my daughter Teresa. I -have no secrets from him.’ - -Simon Lock bowed. They returned to the drawing-room, and at a sign from -Raphael Craig Richard closed the door. - -‘Now, Mr. Lock,’ said Raphael Craig when they were seated, ‘what can I -do for you?’ - -‘You said from your bedroom window that you were expecting me,’ Simon -Lock replied. ‘Therefore you are probably aware of the nature of my -business, since I have given you no warning of my arrival.’ - -Mr. Lock’s face disclosed the fact that he had summoned all his -faculties--and he was a man of many faculties--to the task that lay -before him. Various things had irked and annoyed him that morning, but -in order to retain the mien of diplomacy he was compelled to seem to -ignore them. There could be no doubt, for example, that he bitterly -resented the presence of Richard at this interview, but what could he do -save swallow the affront? The whole situation was a humiliating one for -Simon Lock, who was much more accustomed to dictate terms than to have -terms dictated to him. Still, it was to his credit as a man of nerve -and a man of resource that he was able to adapt himself to unusual -circumstances. He had a triple feat to perform--to keep his dignity, to -be diplomatic, and to be firm. He had come with a precise end in view, -and he was willing to sacrifice everything to that end. Behold him, -therefore, in the drawing-room at Queen’s Farm--him, the demi-god of -the City, trying to show a pleasant and yet a formidable face under -extraordinary trials. - -‘It is true,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘that I expected you. But it was my -instinct more than anything else that led me to expect you. You come, I -presume, about the shares of La Princesse Mine.’ - -‘Exactly,’ said Simon Lock. - -‘You have contracted to sell more of these shares than you can supply, -and the price has risen?’ - -‘Exactly,’ said Simon Lock, smiling cautiously. - -Raphael Craig was, so far, courtesy itself. - -‘And you wish to get the bargain cancelled?’ - -‘I am prepared to pay for the accommodation.’ - -‘And to get the bargain cancelled,’ Craig pursued, ‘you come to me.’ - -‘I come to you,’ repeated Simon Lock. - -‘Yet you could have no direct knowledge that I had any influence over -these shares.’ - -‘No direct knowledge,’ said Lock; ‘but an indirect knowledge. Perhaps,’ -he added, in a peculiar tone, ‘I know more than you guess.’ - -‘As for example?’ - -‘Perhaps I could answer the question, which certainly demands an answer, -how you, a mere manager of a branch of our bank, in receipt of a not -excessive salary, found the money to become a power on the Westralian -market. As the chairman of the directors of the bank I have, I think, -Mr. Craig, the right to put that question.’ - -‘You have first to prove that I indeed am a power on the Westralian -market.’ - -‘The proof of that is in the mere fact that I--I--am here at the present -moment.’ - -Raphael Craig smiled. - -‘You are correct,’ he said. ‘That fact is a proof in itself. I admit -that I am a power. To save unnecessary words, I frankly admit that I -hold La Princesse Mine in the hollow of my hand. You have come to the -proper person, Mr. Lock. We meet at last. And am I to understand that -one object of your visit here is to discover how I became possessed of -the means which a manipulator of markets must possess?’ - -‘I confess I should like to know from your own lips.’ - -‘Well, Mr. Lock, I shall not tell you. It is no business of yours. The -sole fact that concerns you is that I am in a position to control this -particular market, not how I arrived at that position.’ - -Raphael Craig’s tone had suddenly become inimical, provocative, almost -insolent. - -Simon Lock coughed. The moment had come. He said: - -‘On the night before his decease the late Mr. Featherstone, whose death -we all lament, wrote out a sort of confession----’ - -‘You are mistaken,’ said Raphael Craig, with absolute imperturbability; -‘it was on the last night but one before his death. After writing it -out, he changed his mind about killing himself instantly. He came up -here to see me instead. He told me he had put everything on paper. He -made an urgent request, a very urgent request, to me to reconsider a -certain decision of mine. I declined to reconsider it. On the other -hand, I thoughtfully offered him a bed. He accepted it, left the next -morning, and killed himself. I merely mention these circumstances for -the sake of historical exactitude. I suppose you have somehow got hold -of Featherstone’s document.’ - -At this point Richard rose and walked to the window. The frosty -coldness, the cynical carelessness, of Raphael Craig’s manner made him -feel almost ill. He was amazed at this revelation of the depth of the -old man’s purpose to achieve his design at no matter what cost. - -‘I have got hold of it--somehow,’ said Simon Lock. ‘You may judge what -I think of its value when I tell you that I paid ten thousand pounds for -it.’ - -‘Hum!’ murmured Craig. ‘What surprises me is that the police did not get -hold of it long ago. They must be very careless searchers. My opinion of -Scotland Yard is going down rapidly.’ He paused, and then continued: -‘It was indiscreet of you, Mr. Lock, to pay ten thousand pounds for that -document. It is quite useless to you.’ - -‘I fear you cannot be aware what is in it,’ said Simon Lock. ‘It is -indisputable evidence that during many years past you have been in the -habit of coining large quantities of silver money.’ - -‘What of that?’ - -‘It means penal servitude for you, Mr. Craig, if I give it up to the -police. But I trust you will not compel me to such an extreme course.’ - -‘How can I persuade you to have mercy on me?’ laughed Raphael Craig. - -The other evidently did not appreciate the full extent of the old man’s -sarcasm. - -‘It will not be difficult,’ said Simon Lock, ‘provided you are -reasonable. I will tell you without any circumlocution what my terms -are.’ Simon was feeling firm ground under feet at last, as he thought. -‘What my terms are.’ He repeated the phrase, which seemed to give him -satisfaction. ‘You must instruct your agents to agree to a cancellation -of the contracts to sell La Princesse shares. They must let go.’ - -‘As those contracts stand, Mr. Lock, how much do you reckon you would -lose on them?’ - -‘I cannot say,’ said Lock stiffly. - -‘I will tell you,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘You would lose something between -two and a half and three millions of money. What you ask is that I -should make you a present of this trifling sum.’ - -‘In return I will give you Featherstone’s document.’ - -‘Nothing else? Nothing in solid cash?’ - -Simon Lock reflected. - -‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I will give you a hundred thousand in cash.’ - -‘Make it a quarter of a million,’ Raphael Craig affected to plead. - -‘I will make it a quarter of a million,’ said Simon Lock, ‘though I -am condoning a felony. I will give you the document and a quarter of -a million in exchange for a cancellation of all the La Princesse -contracts. That is a clear and business-like offer.’ - -‘It is,’ said Craig. ‘And I refuse it.’ - -‘You want more? I decline to give it.’ - -‘I don’t want more. If you offered me ten millions I wouldn’t accept -it.’ - -‘You prefer to go to prison? You prefer that I should give the document -to the police?’ - -‘I care not,’ said Craig. ‘I shall be perfectly content to end my days -in prison. I have ruined you, Simon Lock.’ He jumped up, and almost -shouted, ‘I have ruined you, Simon Lock, and I can die happy--whether -in prison or out of it makes no matter. In four days hence the contracts -must be fulfilled--you must deliver the shares, or you are a ruined man. -And you cannot deliver the shares. I have seen to that. Let happen what -may, the contracts are in safe hands. You will have noticed that my name -does not appear on them, and you are ruined. You are ruined, Simon, you -are ruined--unless I choose to be merciful.’ - -He spoke the last words in low, deliberate tones, quite different from -the rest of the speech, and this change evidently puzzled Simon Lock, -who was now undecided whether still to maintain a peaceful attitude or -to threaten and bluster. - -Raphael Craig went on, looking at Richard: ‘These great financiers, -Redgrave--you see they are not so great after all. The genius of -Simon Lock in juggling with other people’s money is supposed to be -transcendent, yet how easily I have juggled with his! It is not more -than three months ago that I first saw my opportunity of working on -a big scale. I obtained information about the probable tactics of -the people in charge of Princesse shares, and I took my measures -accordingly. By the way, it is surprising the number of people in the -City who were delighted to assist me in ruining Simon Lock. The most -staid persons seemed to take a fiendish glee in it.’ - -Simon Lock smiled rather grimly, and Raphael Craig pursued his way: - -‘I knew that the great Lock group were selling Princesse shares for the -fall. It was very silly of them, though, to sell more than they could -deliver, especially as there doesn’t happen to have been a fall.’ - -‘I am sure,’ said Simon Lock, ‘that you won’t mind telling me who -disclosed the nature of our operations in the matter of the Princesse -shares.’ - -‘With the greatest pleasure in the world,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘It was -one of your own intimate gang--your private secretary, Oakley. I bought -him, body and soul, for a thousand pounds.’ - -‘And he sold you to me for ten thousand,’ murmured Simon Lock, half to -himself. ‘I am well rid of him. And now’--he turned to Craig, and put -some firmness into his voice--do, please, come to some arrangement.’ - -‘Arrangement!’ exclaimed Raphael. ‘A good joke! Certainly we will come -to some arrangement. But first I must tell Redgrave, who has the right -to know, the history of the girl he is about to marry. I will tell him -in your presence, and when I make any error of fact you can correct me. -Many years ago, Richard, I was engaged to a beautiful girl, a native of -Limerick. She was an orphan, and had lived with friends until she became -a school-teacher, when she lived by herself. She had some aristocratic -Spanish blood in her veins through her mother’s father, who had married -her grand-mother in Buenos Ayres. I met her in Limerick when I was a -clerk in the bank there. I fell in love with her. I asked her to be my -wife, and she consented. We were to be married as soon as my salary -had sufficiently increased. I then had an offer of a situation in the -British and Scottish, just starting on its successful career, and I -removed to London. We arranged that I should save every possible penny, -and that we should get married in about two years’ time. It was -from motives of economy that I allowed a whole year to pass without -revisiting Limerick. I continually received letters from my fiancee, and -though their tone was never excessively warm, it was always tender, and -it satisfied me. As for me, I was passionately in love. I had never seen -such an adorable creature as my betrothed--her name was Juana--and I -have never since seen her equal. For me she was, and always will be, -the world’s jewel.... Well, a change came over the scene. I noticed -something in her letters--something which I could not define. Then, -after an interval of silence, came a letter saying she could not marry -me. I got leave of absence--not without a great deal of difficulty--and -hastened over to Limerick. Juana had left Limerick. I found her at -length in a remote mountain village, and I drew from her her story. It -was a shocking one. A man--a stranger from London--who must have been a -highly plausible person in those days, whatever he is now--had dazzled -her by his professions of admiration and love. He was a rich man even -then, and he made her a brilliant offer of marriage. The poor girl was -carried off her feet. Unduly urged, and her mind poisoned by his lies -concerning myself, her faith in me shaken by the stoppage for some weeks -of my letters, she consented to marry this man. She married him. They -lived together for a brief period. And all this time she had not courage -to write and confess to me the truth. Then the man left her, and coolly -informed her that the marriage was a bogus marriage from beginning to -end--that he was, in fact, already married. He said he wished to have -nothing more to do with her, and gave her a bank-note for a thousand -pounds to solace her wounded feelings, which bank-note she flung into -the fire. You may ask why this man was not prosecuted for bigamy. I will -tell you. The matter was kept quiet in order to spare the feelings of -my poor deluded Juana. Think what the trial would have meant to her. I -myself arranged with the priest and one or two other officials that -the whole thing should be buried in oblivion. I had reserved my own -punishment for the villain who thus escaped the law. To proceed, Juana -had two children--twins. They were named Juana and Teresa. Shortly after -their birth their mother died. But before she died--on her death-bed--I -married her. I had begged to do so before, but she had declined. I swore -to her that I would regard Juana and Teresa as my own children, but of -my intended vengeance against her murderer I said nothing. Hers was -a gentle heart, and she might have put me on my oath to abandon that -vengeance. From the day of her death I lived for nothing save the -punishment of a villain. It was my one thought. I subordinated -everything to it. It made my temper uncertain; it involved me in endless -difficulties; it estranged me from my dear one’s elder daughter, and -often I felt that I was harsh to Teresa, my favourite and the last-born. -But I could not do otherwise. I was a monomaniac. I dreamt only of the -moment when I should see my enemy at my feet, begging for mercy. That -moment has come. He is here. Watch him. He could only be wounded in one -place--his pocket. His pocket is the heel of this noble Achilles, and it -is his pocket that my sword has pierced.’ - -With outstretched finger Raphael Craig pointed with passionate scorn at -the figure of Simon Lock. - -‘Beg for my mercy,’ Craig commanded., - -And to Richard’s amazement Simon Lock answered: - -‘I entreat your mercy, Craig.’ - -‘That is well. I am satisfied,’ said Craig. - -‘They say that revenge turns to ashes in the mouth. I don’t think it -does.’ - -‘Mr. Craig,’ said Lock suavely to Richard, ‘has given a highly-coloured -account of a somewhat ordinary affair. But to appease him I do certainly -ask his mercy. I do admit that he has the upper hand.’ - -‘And I will see you eternally damned, Simon Lock,’ said Raphael Craig, -‘before I grant you an ounce of mercy! There is no mercy for such as -you, who are never merciful yourselves. I only wanted to hear you beg, -that was all. I hadn’t the slightest intention of letting you off.’ - -Simon Lock got up. - -‘It is as well,’ he said, ‘that this farce should end. In asking -your mercy I was only using a form of words in order to pacify you. I -recognised that you were suffering, as you yourself have admitted, from -a sort of mania, and I took what I thought was the easiest course with -you. As to the past, we will not go into that. Your version of it is -ridiculously overstated. I shall now leave. In twenty-four hours you -will be in prison. You say that the fact of your being in prison will -not affect the Princesse contracts. I think it will. I think that when -I inform the Stock Exchange Committee that the real mover of those -contracts is awaiting his trial as a coiner, the Committee will do -something drastic. I might have told you this before, but I wished, -if possible, to arrive at an amicable settlement. In offering you two -hundred and fifty thousand pounds I fancy I was meeting you more -than half-way. Good-day, Mr. Craig; good-day, Mr. Redgrave. And, Mr. -Redgrave, have a care how you mix yourself up with this Craig, and, -above all, do not take for gospel everything that he says as to my past -history.’ - -Simon Lock made his exit from the room with immense dignity. - -‘He is bluffing,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘He is at the end of his tether, -and he knows it; but he has bluffed it out very well. The old man smiled -happily. ‘You are still prepared to marry Teresa?’ he asked. - -Richard took Mr. Craig’s hand. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII--THE CLOSE - - -Would our mother have wished it? - -These words, uttered in a tone of grave, sad questioning, were followed -by a hush among the group which sat under the trees in the orchard -that same afternoon. The two mares belonging to Mr. Craig, and Juana’s -strawberry roan, were feeding close by, the summer flies their sole -trouble. The group consisted of Raphael Craig, the two girls who, as he -had said, were his daughters by right of all he had done for them, and -Richard. Old Craig had, without any reservation, told Juana and Teresa -the history of their mother, and the history of his vengeance on the man -who had so cruelly wronged their mother. He explained to them, with a -satisfaction which he took no trouble to hide, how Simon Lock, after a -career of splendour, was now inevitably doomed to ruin. He told them how -for twenty years he had lived solely for the achievement of that moment, -and that, now it had come, he was content. - -But Juana had said, ‘Would our mother have wished it?’ And her -phrase reminded Richard of the old man’s phrase to Simon Lock in the -morning--‘Hers was a gentle heart.’ The sisters looked at each other, -unquiet, irresolute. - -‘This Simon Lock is our real father, then?’ said Teresa. - -‘Have I not just told you so?’ said the old man. - -‘Let him off, father,’ Juana murmured; and Teresa’s eyes, though she -said nothing, supported her sister. - -‘Why?’ asked Raphael Craig. - -‘Surely you despise him too much to notice him. Is not the best -punishment for him his own conscience and your silent contempt?’ - -‘No,’ cried the old man, suddenly starting up. ‘No, I will never let him -go free! After all these years of labour and sleepless watching, shall -I take my hands! off his throat now? You don’t know what you ask, Juana. -But you were always against me, Juana, ever since you were a little -child--you who bear your mother’s name, too!’ - -‘Nay, father,’ said Juana; ‘I admire your defence of my mother. I love -you for it. I think you are the noblest man alive. But you will be -nobler if you let this man go free. He is beneath your notice.’ - -‘Never!’ repeated the old man, and walked quickly out of the orchard. - -The three young people, left together, scarcely knew what to say to -each other. The girls were, very naturally, excited and perturbed by the -recital to which they had just listened. As for Richard, he was still -in a state of suspense, of apprehension, almost of fear. To him the very -atmosphere of Queen’s Farm seemed to be charged with the messages of -fate. Raphael Craig’s profound self-satisfaction struck Richard as quite -child-like. Did this man, so experienced in the world, really think that -Simon Lock would quietly allow himself to be ruined? Did he really think -that the struggle was over? And if, on the other hand, he thought that -Simon Lock would procure his arrest, was he actually prepared to go to -prison, and to die there? Richard pictured Simon Lock as planning all -sorts of deep-laid schemes against Raphael Craig. He felt that Simon -Lock would never be ‘at the end of his tether,’ as the old man had -termed it, until Simon Lock was dead. He felt just a little bit for -Simon Lock on account of the humiliations which that proud personage -had been made to suffer that morning, and he felt so, despite his -detestation of Lock’s past career and of his general methods. He found -it impossible to get very angry about a sin committed twenty years ago. - -That night Nolan, the detective, though better than on the previous day, -was suffering from a slight temporary relapse. Richard volunteered to -sit up with him, as the man could only sleep at intervals. Both Bridget -and Juana were exhausted with the nursing, and Juana would not hear of -Teresa sitting up. So it came about that Richard insisted on performing -the duty himself. - -It was a warm summer night, rather too warm for comfort, and for a -little space the two men talked on miscellaneous subjects. Then Nolan -asked for something to drink, and having drunk, went off into a sound -sleep. So far as Richard could see, the patient was better again. -Richard occupied an easy-chair by the window. There was twilight all -through the night. For a long time Richard gazed idly out of the -window into the western arch of the sky. As hour after hour passed -the temperature grew chilly. He closed the window. Nolan still slept -peacefully. Richard drew down the blind, and said to himself that he -would have a doze in the easy-chair. - -The next thing of which he was conscious was a knocking at the door. - -‘Yes, yes,’ he answered sleepily, and Mrs. Bridget burst in. - -‘Mr. Redgrave!’ she cried, ‘an’ have ye heard nothing? Surely the -ould master’s not in his bed, and something’s happened. May the Virgin -protect us all this night?’ - -Richard saw wild terror in the woman’s eyes. He sprang up. He was -fully and acutely awake, but the sick man slept on. He went quietly and -quickly out of the room. Juana and Teresa stood in the passage, alarmed -and dishevelled. - -‘He is gone!’ Teresa exclaimed. ‘I wonder you heard nothing, as his -was the next room. It was Bridget who heard a sort of shout, she says, -outside, and then looked out of her window, and she thinks she heard a -motorcar.’ - -‘Which way was it going?’ asked Richard. - -‘Sure and it’s meself that can’t tell ye, sir,’ said Mrs. Bridget. - -Richard reflected a moment. - -‘Why has he gone off like this in the night?’ questioned Juana. - -‘Suppose that he has been captured--abducted--what then?’ said Richard. -‘Teresa,’ he added, ‘put your things on. You and I will go after him. -Juana and Bridget must see to the nursing. Let there be no delay.’ - -His words were authoritative, and both girls departed. Richard proceeded -to examine the bedroom of the vanished Raphael Craig. It was in a state -of wild confusion. The bed had not been slept in; the bed was, indeed, -almost the sole undisturbed article in the room. A writing bureau stood -in the corner between the window and the fireplace, and apparently Mr. -Craig had been sitting at this. The ink-bottle was overturned, the rows -of small drawers had all been forced open, and papers, blown by the wind -from the open window, were scattered round the room. The window was wide -open from the bottom, and on the sill Richard noticed a minute streak -of blood, quite wet. The wall-paper beneath the window was damaged, -as though by feet. The window-curtains were torn. Richard judged that -Raphael Craig must have been surprised while writing, gagged, and -removed forcibly from the room by the window. He turned again within -the room, but he observed nothing further of interest except that the -drawers and cupboards of a large mahogany wardrobe had been forced, and -their contents flung on the floor. - -Richard went downstairs and out of the house by the front-door. He -travelled round the house by the garden-path, till he came under the -window of Raphael’s bedroom, and there he found the soil trodden down -and some flowers broken off their stalks; but there were no traces of -footsteps on the hard gravelled path. He returned to the house. - -‘Mr. Craig has certainly been carried off,’ he said to Teresa, who was -just coming down the stairs, candle in hand. - -She wore over her dress a coat, and a small hat was on her head. - -‘Carried off!’ she exclaimed, and the candle shook. ‘By whom?’ - -‘Need we ask? Your father thought he had done with Simon Lock, but Simon -Lock is not so easily done with.’ - -‘But what can Simon Lock do with father?’ - -‘Anything that a villain dares,’ said Richard. - -‘Come along; don’t wait. We will take one of the motor-cars and follow.’ - -They ran forth from the house to the sheds. The Décauville car stood in -the first shed. - -‘Is it ready for action, do you know?’ asked Richard. - -‘Perfectly. I had it out the day before yesterday.’ - -But when they came to start it they discovered that the pipe which led -the petrol to the cylinder had been neatly severed. It was the simplest -operation, but quite effective to disable the car. Nothing could be done -without a new pipe. - -‘Where is the electric car?’ Richard demanded, almost gruffly. ‘They may -have missed that.’ - -‘I don’t know. It ought to be here,’ Teresa replied. - -‘They have taken him off in his own car,’ was Richard’s comment ‘We can -do nothing.’ - -‘The horses,’ said Teresa. - -‘No horses that were ever bred could overtake that car, or even keep up -with it for a couple of miles.’ - -They walked back to the house, and met Bridget. - -‘Is it the illictric car ye’re wanting?’ she asked, with the intuition -of an Irishwoman. - -‘It’s in the far shed.’ - -With one accord Richard and Teresa ran back to the far end of the range -of buildings. There stood the car, in what had once been the famous -silver shed. - -‘I saw the master put it there this very morning as ever is,’ said -Mrs. Bridget, who had followed them, as Richard jumped on to the -driving-seat. - -In two minutes they were off, sped by the whispered blessing of Mrs. -Bridget. At the end of the boreen Richard stopped the car. - -‘Which way?’ he murmured, half to himself and half to Teresa, as if -seeking inspiration. - -‘To London or to the North?’ - -‘To London, of course,’ said Teresa promptly. - -He hesitated. - -‘I wonder----’ he said. - -‘What is that?’ Teresa asked sharply, pointing to something which -glinted on the road. She sprang down and picked it up. ‘Father’s -spectacles,’ she said--‘cracked.’ The spectacles had lain about a yard -south of the boreen; they therefore pointed to London. ‘Didn’t I tell -you?’ said Teresa. - -Richard shot the car forward in silence. - -‘Do you think dad threw out these specs, to guide us?’ questioned -Teresa. - -‘Perhaps,’ answered Richard absently. - -In this mysterious nocturnal disappearance of Raphael Craig he saw the -hand of the real Simon Lock. During the whole of that strange interview -which had taken place in the morning it had seemed to Richard that Simon -Lock had been acting a part--had, at any rate, not conducted himself -with that overbearing and arrogant masterfulness and unscrupulousness -for which he had a reputation. Richard decided in his own mind that -Simon Lock had arranged for this abduction, in case of necessity, before -his visit to Raphael Craig. It was more than possible that he might -have urged his visit chiefly as a visit of observation, to enable him to -complete his plans for exercising force to compel Raphael Craig to agree -to his wishes. With painful clearness Richard now perceived that Simon -Lock was, in fact, fighting for all that he held most dear--perhaps for -his very life and liberty, in addition to the whole of his fortune, for -Richard knew that when these colossal financiers do happen to topple -over into ruin the subsequent investigation of their affairs often leads -to criminal prosecution, a process disagreeable to the financier, but -pleasant enough to the public. A man such as Simon Lock had, therefore, -a double, or, at least, a highly intensified, motive in avoiding -financial failure. Yes, thought Richard, Simon Lock would stop at -nothing to compel Raphael Craig to give way. His mind wandered curiously -to tales of the Spanish Inquisition, and to the great torture scene in -Balzac’s ‘Catherine de Medici.’ He involuntarily shuddered, and then -with an effort he drew his mind back again to the management of the car. -This vehicle, new and in beautiful order, and charged for a journey of a -hundred and twenty miles, travelled in the most unexceptionable manner. -The two and a half miles to the North-Western station at Dunstable -were traversed in precisely five minutes, in spite of the fact that the -distance included a full mile of climbing. - -The electric lights flashed along the deserted main streets of ancient -Dunstable, which is only a little more sleepy at night than in the -daytime. As they passed the Old Sugar-Loaf Inn a man jumped out of the -stable archway and hailed them frantically. His voice echoed strangely -in the wide thoroughfare. - -‘What is it?’ demanded Richard, unwillingly drawing up. - -‘You after a motor-car?’ the man inquired. He looked like an ostler. - -‘Yes,’ said Richard. - -‘Mr. Craig?’ - -‘Yes,’ said Richard. - -‘They stopped here,’ said the man, ‘and they told me to tell you if you -came by that they’d gone to Luton, and was a-going on to Hitchin.’ - -‘They! Who?’ asked Teresa. - -‘The gents in the car.’ - -‘Who was in the car?’ - -‘Four gents.’ - -‘How long since?’ - -‘About half an hour, or hardly.’ - -‘And was it Mr. Craig who told you they’d gone to Luton and Hitchin?’ - -‘How do I know his blooming name as told me?’ exclaimed the man. ‘They -gave me a shilling to stop here and tell ye, and I’ve told ye, and so -good-night.’ - -‘Thanks,’ said Richard, and he started the car. In another moment they -were at the crossing of the two great Roman high-roads, Watling Street -and the Icknield Way. The route to Luton and Hitchin lay to the left; -the route to London was straight ahead. - -‘Now, was that a fake of Lock’s, or are we all wrong about Lock? and has -your father got still another mystery up his sleeve?’ - -He gazed intently at the macadam, but the hard road showed no traces of -wheels anywhere, not even their own. - -‘We will go straight ahead,’ said Teresa earnestly. - -Richard obeyed her instinct and his. Everything pointed to the -probability that Simon Lock, anticipating pursuit, had laid a trap -at the Old Sugar-Loaf to divert such pursuit. Then Raphael Craig must -surely have been drugged, or he would have protested to the ostler. - -Before they had got quite clear of the last houses of Dunstable they -picked up Mr. Craig’s gold watch, which lay battered in their track. If -Craig had been drugged he must have quickly recovered! Teresa was now -extremely excited, anxious, and nervous. Previously she had talked, but -she fell into silence, and there was no sound save the monotonous, -rather high-pitched drone of the motor-car. They passed through -Markyate, four miles, and through Redbourne, another four miles, in -quick succession. The road lies absolutely straight, and the gradients -are few and easy. - -‘Surely,’ said Teresa at length, ‘if they are on this road we should -soon overtake them at this speed?’ - -‘Fifty miles an hour,’ he said. - -They were descending the last part of the hill half-way down which lies -Redbourne. It was a terrible, perilous speed for night travelling, but -happily the night was far from being quite dark. Though there was no -moon, there were innumerable multitudes of stars, and the dusty road -showed white and clear. - -‘Some cars can do up to seventy an hour. And if Simon Lock got a car he -would be certain to get the best.’ - -As he spoke they both simultaneously descried a moving light at the -bottom of the hill. In a few seconds the car was within a hundred -yards of the light, and they could see the forms of men moving and hear -voices. - -‘It is the other car broken down,’ exclaimed Teresa. ‘Put out our -lights, quick!’ - -Richard realized in a flash that he ought to have taken that simple -precaution before, and to have approached with every circumspection. The -men in front had perceived the second car, and Richard’s extinction of -his lights came too late. He heard a sharp word of command, and then -three men left the disabled car and ran in a body to the other one. -Their forms were distinctly visible. - -‘Three to one!’ Richard said softly. ‘It looks like being a bit stiff.’ - -‘No! Three to two,’ Teresa corrected him. ‘Here! Take this.’ She handed -him a revolver which she had carried under her coat. ‘I just thought -of it as I was leaving the house, and took it out of the clock in the -drawing-room.’ - -His appreciation of her thoughtfulness was unspoken, but nevertheless -sincere. - -The three men were within fifty yards. - -‘Slip off behind and into the hedge,’ he ordered. ‘We shall do better -from that shelter if there is to be a row.’ - -She obeyed, and they cowered under the hedge side by side. - -‘Get further away from me,’ he said imperatively. ‘You may be in danger -just here.’ - -But she would not move. - -‘Whose car is this?’ cried a voice out of the gloom--a rough, bullying -voice that Richard did not recognise. - -‘Never mind whose car it is!’ Richard sang out. ‘Keep away from it. -That’s my advice to you, whoever you are. I can see you perfectly well, -and I will shoot the first man that advances another step.’ - -‘Why?’ returned the same voice. ‘What’s all this bluster for? We only -want a bit of indiarubber for a ripped tyre.’ - -‘It doesn’t take three of you to fetch a bit of indiarubber. Let two of -you get back, and then I’ll talk to the third.’ - -‘Get on, my lads,’ another voice cried, and this time Richard knew the -voice. - -It was Simon Lock’s; the financier was covered with a long overcoat; he -was the rearmost of the three. - -Richard, without the least hesitation, aimed at Simon’s legs and fired. -He missed. At the same instant the middle figure of the three flung -some object sharply towards the hedge in the direction whence the -revolver-shot had proceeded, and Richard felt a smashing blow on the -head, after which he felt nothing else whatever. He had vague visions, -and then there was a blank, an absolute and complete blank. - -The next thing of which he was conscious was a sense of moisture on -his head. He opened his eyes and saw in the sky the earliest inkling of -dawn. He also saw Teresa bending over him with a handkerchief. - -‘You are better,’ she said to him softly. - -‘You’ll soon be all right.’ - -Richard shook his head feebly, as he felt a lump over his eye. He had a -dizzy sensation. - -‘Yes, you will,’ Teresa insisted. ‘It was very unfortunate, your being -hit with that stone. You gave an awful groan, and those men thought -you were dead; they certainly thought you were alone. I would have shot -them, every one, but you dropped the revolver in the grass by this bit -of a gutter here, and I couldn’t find it till they’d gone. D’you know, -they’ve gone off with our car? There was a man among them who seemed -to understand it perfectly. I’m awfully glad now I didn’t show myself, -because I couldn’t have done anything, and I can do something now. Oh, -Dick! I saw them pull father out of their car--it’s a big Panhard--and -put him into ours. He was all tied with ropes. It will be a heavy load -for that little car, and they can’t go so very fast. We must mend their -car, Dick, and go on as quickly as possible.’ - -‘Can we mend it?’ Richard asked, amazed at this coolness, courage, and -enterprise. - -‘Yes, of course. Look, you can see from here; it’s only a puncture.’ - -‘But didn’t one of them say they’d got no indiarubber?’ - -Teresa laughed. - -‘You aren’t yourself yet,’ she said. ‘You’re only a goose yet. That was -only an excuse for attacking us.’ - -Richard got up, and speedily discovered that he could walk. They -proceeded to the abandoned car. It was a 40 h.-p. concern, fully -equipped and stored. The travellers by it had already begun to mend -their puncture when the pursuing car surprised them. They had evidently -judged it easier to change cars than to finish the mending. Speed was -their sole object, and in the carrying out of the schemes of a man like -Simon Lock a 40 h.-p. Panhard left by the roadside was a trifle. - -In twenty minutes the puncture was successfully mended, both Richard -and Teresa being experts at the operation. The effect of the blow on -Richard’s head had by this time quite passed away, save for a bruise. - -‘And now for Manchester Square,’ said Teresa, as they moved off. - -‘Why Manchester Square?’ Richard asked. - -‘That is where they were going; I heard them talking.’ - -‘It will be Simon Lock’s house,’ said Richard. ‘I must go there alone.’ - -From Redbourne to London, with a clear road and a 40 h.-p. Panhard -beneath you, is not a far cry. In a shade under the hour the motor-car -was running down Edgware Road to the Marble Arch. Richard kept straight -on to Adelphi Terrace, put up the car at a stable-yard close by without -leave, and, having aroused his landlady, gave Teresa into her charge -until breakfast-time. It was just turned four o’clock, and a beautiful -morning. - -‘What are you going to do?’ asked Teresa. - -‘I don’t exactly know. I’ll take a cab and the revolver to Manchester -Square, and see what happens. You can rely upon me to take care of -myself.’ - -He could see that she wished to accompany him, and without more words -he vanished. In ten minutes, having discovered a cab, he was in the -vast silence of Manchester Square. He stopped the cab at the corner, and -walked to Simon Lock’s house, whose number he knew. A policeman stood -at the other side of the square, evidently curious as to the strange -proceedings within the well-known residence of the financier. The double -outer doors were slightly ajar. Richard walked nonchalantly up the broad -marble steps and pushed these doors open and went in. A second pair -of doors, glazed, now fronted him. Behind these stood a man in evening -dress, but whether or not he was a servant Richard could not determine. - -‘Open,’ said Richard. The man seemed not to hear him. - -He lifted up the revolver. The man perceived it, and opened the doors. - -‘Where is Mr. Lock?’ Richard demanded in a firm, cold voice. ‘I am a -detective. I don’t want you to come with me. Stay where you are. Simply -tell me where he is.’ - -The man hesitated. - -‘Quick,’ said Richard, fingering the revolver.. - -‘He was in the library, sir,’ the man faltered. - -‘Anyone with him?’ - -‘Yes, sir; some gentlemen.’ - -‘How long have they been here?’ - -‘Not long. They came unexpected, sir.’ - -‘Well, see that you don’t mix yourself up in anything that may occur. -Which is the library door?’ - -The man pointed to a mahogany door at the end of the long, lofty hall. -Richard opened it, and found himself, not in a library, but in a small -rectangular windowless apartment, clearly intended for the reception of -hats and coats. Suspecting a ruse, he stepped quickly into the hall. - -‘Not that door, the next one,’ said the man, quietly enough. Richard -followed the man’s instructions, and very silently opened the next door. -A large room disclosed itself, with a long table down the centre of it. -The place did not bear much resemblance to a library. It was, in fact, -the breakfast-room, and the library lay beyond it. At the furthest -corner, opposite another door, a man was seated on a chair. His eyes -seemed to be glued on to the door which he watched. - -‘Come along, Terrell,’ this man whispered, without moving his head, as -Richard entered. - -Richard accordingly came along, and was upon the man in the chair before -the latter had perceived that another than Terrell--whoever Terrell -might be--had thrust himself into the plot. - -‘Silence!’ said Richard; ‘I am a detective. Come out.’ - -The revolver and Richard’s unflinching eye did the rest. Richard led the -astonished and unresisting man into the hall, and then locked him up -in the hat and coat room, and put the key of the door in his pocket. -He returned to the other room, locked its door on the inside, so as to -preclude the approach of the expected Terrell, and took the empty -chair in front of the far door. He guessed that Simon Lock, and perhaps -Raphael Craig, were on the other side of that door. - -‘Up to now,’ he reflected, ‘it’s been fairly simple.’ - -There was absolute silence. It was as though the great house had hushed -itself in anticipation of a great climax. - -Then Richard heard a voice in the room beyond. It was Simon Lock’s -voice. Richard instantly tried the door, turning the handle very softly -and slowly. It was latched, but not locked. Using infinite precautions, -he contrived to leave the door open about half an inch. Through this -half-inch of space he peered into the library. He saw part of a large -square desk and an armchair. In this armchair sat Raphael Craig, and -Raphael Craig was tied firmly to the chair with ropes. He could not see -Simon Lock, and he dared not yet push the door further open. - -‘Now, Craig,’ the voice of Simon Lock was saying, ‘don’t drive me to -extreme measures.’ - -For answer Raphael Craig closed his eyes, as if bored. His face had a -disgusted, haughty expression. - -‘You’ve got no chance,’ said Simon Lock. - -‘Redgrave is caught, and won’t be let loose in a hurry. These two girls -of yours are also in safe hands. Nothing has been omitted. I have here a -list of the firms who have been acting for you in the Princesse shares. -I have also written out certain instructions to them which you will -sign. I have also prepared a power of attorney, authorizing me to act in -your name in the matter of these shares. You will sign these documents. -I will have them sent to the City and put into operation this morning, -and as soon as I have satisfied myself that all has been done that might -be done you will be set free--perhaps in a couple of days.’ - -Richard saw that Raphael Craig made no sign of any sort. - -Simon Lock continued: ‘You did not expect that I should proceed to -extreme measures of this kind. You thought that the law of England would -be sufficient to protect you from physical compulsion. You thought I -should never dare. How foolish of you! As if I should permit myself -to be ruined by an old man with a bee in his bonnet; an old man whose -desire is not to make money--I could have excused that--but to work a -melodramatic revenge. If you want melodrama you shall have it, Craig, -and more of it than you think for.’ - -‘Why don’t you give me up to the police?’ said Raphael Craig, opening -his eyes and yawning. ‘You’ve got Featherstone’s confession, as you call -it. Surely that would be simpler than all this rigmarole.’ - -The manager’s voice was pregnant with sarcasm. - -‘I will tell you,’ said Lock frankly; ‘there is no reason why I should -not: I have lost the confounded thing, or it has been stolen.’ He -laughed harshly. ‘However, that’s no matter. I can dispense with -that--now.’ - -‘You can’t do anything,’ returned Craig. ‘You’ve got me here--you and -your gang between you. But you can’t do anything. In three days your -ruin will be complete.’ - -‘Not do anything!’ said Simon Lock; ‘there are ways and means of -compulsion. There are worse things than death, Craig. You decline to -sign?’ - -Raphael closed his eyes again, coldly smiling. - -‘Terrell,’ called Simon Lock sharply, ‘bring the----’ - -But what horrible, unmentionable things Terrell was to bring in will -never be known, for at that instant Richard rushed madly into the -room. He saw a revolver lying on the desk in front of Simon Lock. He -frantically snatched it up, and stood fronting Simon Lock. - -‘Well done, Redgrave!’ said the old man. - -Simon’s face went like white paper. - -‘So “Redgrave is caught,” is he?’ said Richard to Lock. Without taking -his eye off the financier, he stepped backwards and secured the door. -‘Now, Mr. Lock, we are together once more, we three. Don’t utter a word, -but go and cut those ropes from Mr. Craig’s arms. Go, I say.’ Richard -had a revolver in each hand. He put one down, and took a penknife from -his pocket. ‘Stay; here is a knife,’ he added. ‘Now cut.’ - -[Illustration: 0322] - -As Simon Lock moved to obey the revolver followed his head at a distance -of about three inches. Never in his life had Richard been so happy. In a -minute Raphael Craig was free. - -‘Take his place,’ Richard commanded. - -In another two minutes Simon Lock was bound as Raphael Craig had been. - -‘Come with me, dear old man. We will leave him. Mr. Lock, your motor-car -is in a stable-yard off Adelphi Street. You can have it in exchange for -the car which you stole from me a few hours ago.’ - -He took Raphael Craig’s arm, and the old man suffered himself to be led -out like a child. - -Within a quarter of an hour father and adopted daughter were in each -other’s arms at Adelphi Terrace. The drama was over. - -***** - -Two days later the evening papers had a brilliantly successful -afternoon, for their contents bills bore the legend: ‘Suicide of Simon -Lock.’ It was a great event for London. Simon Lock’s estate was found -to be in an extremely involved condition, but it realized over a -million pounds, which was just about a tenth of what the British public -expected. The money, in the absence of a will, went to the heir-at-law, -a cousin of the deceased, who was an army contractor, and already very -rich. The name of this man and what he did with his million will be -familiar to all readers. The heir-at-law never heard anything of the -Princesse shares, for Raphael Craig, immediately on the death of his -colossal enemy, destroyed the contracts, and made no claim whatever. -This act cost him a hundred thousand pounds in loss of actual cash -outlay, but he preferred to do it. Raphael Craig died peacefully six -months later. Both the girls who had called him father were by that time -married--Teresa to Richard and Juana to Nolan, the detective. It was -indeed curious that, by the accident of fate, Raphael should have been -saved from the consequences of the crime of uttering false coin by -the spell exercised by those girls over two separate and distinct -detectives. The two detectives--one professional, the other -amateur--subsequently went into partnership, Nolan having retired from -Scotland Yard. They practise their vocation under the name of -------- --------- But you will have guessed that name, since they are the most -famous firm in their own line in England at the present day. - -And Richard says to his wife: ‘I should never have saved him. Everything -might have been different if your courage had not kindled mine that -morning after I swooned by the roadside in Watling Street.’ - - -THE END - - - - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Teresa of Watling Street, by Arnold Bennett - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERESA OF WATLING STREET *** - -***** This file should be named 55114-0.txt or 55114-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/1/55114/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: Teresa of Watling Street - A Fantasia on Modern Themes - -Author: Arnold Bennett - -Illustrator: Frank Gillett - -Release Date: July 15, 2017 [EBook #55114] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERESA OF WATLING STREET *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - -</pre> - - <div style="height: 8em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h1> - TERESA OF WATLING STREET - </h1> - <h3> - A Fantasia On Modern Themes - </h3> - <h2> - By Arnold Bennett - </h2> - <h3> - With Eight Illustrations By Frank Gillett - </h3> - <h4> - London: Chatto & Windum - </h4> - <h3> - 1904 - </h3> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0013.jpg" alt="0013 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0013.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0016.jpg" alt="0016 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0016.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - <b>CONTENTS</b> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> TERESA OF WATLING STREET </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—THE BANK </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—THE CIRCUS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—CHINK OF COINS </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—MR. PUDDEPHATT </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—FIRE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—THE DESIRE FOR SILVER </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—NOLAN </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—THE PEER’S ADVICE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—A VISIT </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—MONEY-MAKING </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—END OF THE NIGHT </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—THE NAPOLEON </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—THE VASE </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—FEATHERSTONE’S RECITAL </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—ARRIVAL OF SIMON </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—THE INTERVIEW </a> - </p> - <p class="toc"> - <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—THE CLOSE </a> - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - TERESA OF WATLING STREET - </h2> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER I—THE BANK - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ince money is the - fount of all modern romantic adventure, the City of London, which holds - more money to the square yard than any other place in the world, is the - most romantic of cities. This is a profound truth, but people will not - recognise it. There is no more prosaic person than your bank clerk, who - ladles out romance from nine to four with a copper trowel without knowing - it. There is no more prosaic building than your stone-faced banking - office, which hums with romance all day, and never guesses what a palace - of wonders it is. The truth, however, remains; and some time in the future - it will be universally admitted. And if the City, as a whole, is romantic, - its banks are doubly and trebly romantic. Nothing is more marvellous than - the rapid growth of our banking system, which is twice as great now as it - was twenty years ago—and it was great enough then. - </p> - <p> - Such were the reflections of a young man who, on a June morning, stood - motionless on the busy pavement opposite the headquarters of the British - and Scottish Banking Company, Limited, in King William Street, City. He - was a man of medium size, fair, thick-set, well-dressed, and wearing - gold-rimmed spectacles. The casual observer might have taken him for a - superior sort of clerk, but the perfect style of his boots, his gloves, - and his hat precluded such a possibility; it is in the second-rate finish - of his extremities that the superior clerk, often gorgeous in a new - frock-coat, betrays himself. This particular young man, the tenor of whose - thoughts showed that he possessed imagination—the rarest of all - qualities except honesty—had once been a clerk, but he was a clerk - no longer. - </p> - <p> - He looked at his watch; it showed three minutes to twelve o’clock. He - waited another minute, and then crossed through the traffic and entered - the sober and forbidding portals of the bank. He had never before been - inside a City bank, and the animated scene, to which many glass partitions - gave an air of mystery, would have bewildered him had he not long since - formed the immutable habit of never allowing himself to be bewildered. - Ignoring all the bustle which centred round the various cash desks - lettered A to F, G to M, and so on, he turned unhesitatingly to an - official who stood behind a little solitary counter. - </p> - <p> - ‘Sir?’ said the official blandly; it was his sole duty to be bland (and - firm) to customers and possible customers of an inquiring turn of mind. - </p> - <p> - ‘I have an appointment with Mr. Simon Lock,’ said the young man. - </p> - <p> - The official intensified his blandness at the mention of the august name - of the chairman of the British and Scottish Banking Company, Limited. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Lock is engaged with the Board,’ he said. - </p> - <p> - ‘I have an appointment with the Board,’ said the young man. ‘My card;’ and - he produced the pasteboard of civilization. - </p> - <p> - The official read: - </p> - <p> - Mr. Richard Redgrave, M.A., - </p> - <p> - Specialist. - </p> - <p> - ‘In that case,’ said the official, now a miracle of blandness, ‘be good - enough to step this way.’ Mr. Richard Redgrave stepped that way, and - presently found himself in front of a mahogany door, on which was painted - the legend, ‘Directors’ Parlour’—not ‘Board Room,’ but ‘Directors’ - Parlour.’ The British and Scottish was not an ancient corporation with a - century or two of traditions; it was merely a joint-stock company some - thirty years of age. But it had prospered exceedingly, and the directors, - especially Mr. Simon Lock, liked to seem quaint and old-fashioned in - trifles. Such harmless affectations helped to impress customers and to - increase business. The official knocked, and entered the parlour with as - much solemnity as though he had been entering a mosque or the tomb of - Napoleon. Fifty millions of deposits were manoeuvred from day to day in - that parlour, and the careers of eight hundred clerks depended on words - spoken therein. Then Mr. Richard Redgrave was invited to enter. His foot - sank into the deep pile of a Persian carpet. The official closed the door. - The specialist was alone with three of the directors of the British and - Scottish Bank. - </p> - <p> - ‘Please take a seat, Redgrave,’ said Lord Dolmer, the only one of the trio - with whom Richard was personally acquainted, and to whom he owed this - introduction. ‘We shall not keep you waiting more than a minute or two.’ - </p> - <p> - The other directors did not look up. All three were rapidly signing - papers. - </p> - <p> - Richard occupied a chair upholstered in red leather, next the door, and - surveyed the room. It was a large and lofty apartment, simply but - massively furnished in mahogany. A table of superb solidity and vast - acreage filled the middle space—such a table as only a bank director - could comfortably sit at. As Richard gazed at that article of furniture - and listened to the busy scratching of pens, he saw, with the prophetic - vision characteristic of all men who are born to success, that a crisis in - his life was at hand. He had steadily risen throughout his brief life, but - he had never before risen so high as a bank parlour, and the parlour of - such a bank! His history, though a short one, was curious. He came to - London from Westmoreland at the age of nineteen as a clerk in the Customs. - From the first he regarded his clerkship merely as a means to an end; what - end he had yet to ascertain. He paid particular attention to his clothes, - joined a large political club, and kept his eyes open. His personal - stock-in-trade consisted of a rather distinguished appearance, a quiet, - deliberate, and confident voice and manner, an imperturbable good temper - which nothing could affect, and a firm belief that he could do anything a - little better than the average doer of that thing. He desired a University - degree, and by working at night for four years obtained the M.A. of - London. He practised a little journalism of the sensational kind, and did - fairly well at that, but abandoned it because the profits were not large - enough. One Sunday he was cycling down the Portsmouth Road, and had - reached an hotel between twenty and thirty miles from London, when he met - with his first real chance. A motor-tricycle had unaccountably disappeared - from the hotel during luncheon. The landlord and the owner of the tricycle - were arguing as to the former’s liability. Redgrave listened discreetly, - and then went to examine the barnlike coach-house from which the - motor-tricycle had been spirited away. Soon the owner, who had instructed - the police and bullied the landlord, and was now forced to kick his angry - heels till the departure of the afternoon train back to London, joined him - in the coach-house. The two began to talk. - </p> - <p> - ‘You are Lord Dolmer,’ said Redgrave at length. - </p> - <p> - ‘How do you know that?’ asked the other quickly. - </p> - <p> - He was a black-haired man of forty, simply dressed, and of quiet - demeanour, save of unusual excitement. - </p> - <p> - ‘I have seen you at the Constitutional Club, of which I am a member. Did - you know that a motor-tricycle disappeared from this same hotel a - fortnight ago?’ - </p> - <p> - Lord Dolmer was impressed by the youth’s manner. - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ he said; ‘is that really so?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Redgrave, ‘only a fortnight ago. Strange coincidence, isn’t - it?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Who are you? You seem to know something,’ said Lord Dolmer. - </p> - <p> - Redgrave gave his name, and added: - </p> - <p> - ‘I am an officer in the Customs.’ - </p> - <p> - That sounded well. - </p> - <p> - ‘I fancy I could trace your tricycle, if you gave me time,’ he said. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will give you not only time, but money,’ the peer replied. - </p> - <p> - ‘We will talk about that later,’ said Redgrave. - </p> - <p> - Until that hour Richard had no thought of assuming the rôle of detective - or private inquiry agent; but he saw no reason why he should not assume - such a rôle, and with success. He calmly determined to trace the missing - tricycle. By a stroke of what is called luck, he found it before Lord - Dolmer’s train left. Over half of the coach-house was a loft in the roof. - Richard chanced to see a set of pulleys in the rafters. He climbed up; the - motor-tricycle was concealed in the loft. The landlord, confronted with - it, said that of course some mischievous loiterers must have hoisted it - into the loft as a practical joke. The explanation was an obvious one, and - Lord Dolmer was obliged to accept it. But both he and Redgrave had the - gravest suspicions of the landlord, and it may be mentioned here that the - latter is now in prison, though not for any sin connected with Lord - Dolmer’s tricycle. - </p> - <p> - ‘What do I owe you? Name your own sum,’ said Lord Dolmer to Redgrave. - </p> - <p> - ‘Nothing at all,’ Redgrave answered. - </p> - <p> - He had come to a resolution on the instant. - </p> - <p> - ‘Give me some introductions to your friends. - </p> - <p> - It is the ambition of my life to conduct important private inquiries, and - you must know plenty of people who stand in need of such a man as I.’ - </p> - <p> - Lord Dolmer was poor—for a lord—and eked out a bare competence - by being a guinea-pig in the City, a perfectly respectable and industrious - guinea-pig. He agreed to Redgrave’s suggestion, asked him to dinner at his - chambers in Half Moon Street, and became, in fact, friendly with the - imperturbable and resourceful young man. Redgrave obtained several - delicate commissions, and the result was such that in six months he - abandoned his post in the Customs, and rented a small office in Adelphi - Terrace. His acquaintance with Lord Dolmer continued, and when Lord - Dolmer, after a lucky day on the Exchange, bought a 5-h.p. motor-car, - these two went about the country together. Redgrave was soon able to - manage a motor-car like an expert, and foreseeing that motor-cars would - certainly acquire a high importance in the world, he cultivated relations - with the firm of manufacturers from whom Lord Dolman had purchased his - car. Then came a spell of ill-luck. The demand for a private inquiry agent - of exceptional ability (a ‘specialist,’ as Richard described himself) - seemed to die out. Richard had nothing to do, and was on the point of - turning his wits in another direction, when he received a note from Lord - Dolmer to the effect that Mr. Simon Lock and the directors of the British - and Scottish had some business for him if he cared to undertake it. - </p> - <p> - Hence his advent in King William Street. - </p> - <p> - ‘Let me introduce you,’ said Lord Dolmer, beckoning Redgrave from his - chair near the door, ‘to our chairman, Mr. Simon Lock, whose name is - doubtless familiar to you, and to my co-director, Sir Charles Custer.’ - </p> - <p> - Redgrave bowed, and the two financiers nodded. - </p> - <p> - ‘Take that chair, Mr. Redgrave,’ said Simon Lock, indicating a fourth - chair at the table. - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock, a middle-aged man with gray hair, glinting gray eyes, a short - moustache, and no beard, was one of the kings of finance. He had the - monarchical manner, modified by an occasional gruff pleasantry. The - British and Scottish was only one of various undertakings in which he was - interested; he was, for example, at the head of a powerful group of - Westralian mining companies, but here, as in all the others, he was the - undisputed master. When he spoke Lord Dolmer and Sir Charles Custer held - their tongues. - </p> - <p> - ‘We have sent for you on Lord Dolmer’s recommendation—a very hearty - recommendation, I may say,’ Simon Lock began. ‘He tells us that you have a - particular partiality for motor-car cases’—Richard returned Simon - Lock’s faint smile—‘and so you ought to be specially useful to us in - our dilemma. I will explain the circumstance as simply as possible. Will - you make notes?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I never write down these details,’ said Richard. ‘It is safer not to. My - memory is quite reliable.’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock nodded twice quickly and resumed: - </p> - <p> - ‘We have a branch at Kilburn, in the High Street, under the managership of - Mr. Raphael Craig. Mr. Craig has been in our service for about twenty - years. His age is fifty-five. He is a widower with one daughter. He came - to us from an Irish bank. Professionally, we have no fault to find with - him; but for many years past he has chosen to live thirty-five miles from - London, at a farmhouse between the town of Dunstable and the village of - Hockliffe, in Bedfordshire. Dunstable, you may be aware, is on the old - Roman road, Watling Street, which runs to Chester. He used to go up to - Bedfordshire only at weekends, but of late years he has travelled between - his country home and London several times a week, often daily. He owns two - or three motor-cars, and has once been summoned and convicted for furious - driving. It is said that he can come to London by road from Dunstable in - sixty minutes. When he stays in London he sleeps over the bank premises in - the suite of rooms which we provide for him, as for all our managers.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You say you have no fault to find with Mr. Craig professionally,’ said - Richard. ‘He does not, then, in any way neglect his duties?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The reverse. He is an admirable servant, and our Kilburn branch is one of - the most lucrative of all our branches. Mr. Craig has built up a - wonderfully good business for us in that suburb. Let me continue. Last - year but one a relative of Mr. Craig’s, an uncle or something of that - sort, reputed to be crazy, died and left him a hundred thousand pounds, - chiefly, one heard, in new silver coins, which the old miser had had a - mania for collecting, and kept in his cellars like wine. The strange thing - is that Mr. Craig, thus made rich, did not resign his position with us. - Now, why should a man of large fortune trouble himself with the cares of a - comparatively unimportant bank managership? That aspect of the case has - struck us as somewhat suspicious.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Highly suspicious,’ murmured Sir Charles Custer, M.P., out of his beard. - </p> - <p> - ‘You naturally—shall I say?—resent eccentricity in any member - of your staff?’ said Richard sagaciously. - </p> - <p> - ‘We do, Mr. Redgrave. In a bank, eccentricity is not wanted. Further—another - strange fact—a month ago the cashier of our Kilburn branch, a - mediocre but worthy servant named Featherstone, a man of fifty, whose - brains were insufficient to lift him beyond a cashiership, and who, - outside our bank, had no chance whatever of getting a livelihood in this - hard world, suddenly resigned. He would give no reason for his - resignation, nor could Mr. Craig give us any reason for it. In the - following week Featherstone committed suicide. No doubt you saw the affair - in the papers. The man’s books were perfectly straight. He was a bachelor, - and had no ties that the police could discover. Such is the brief outline - of the case. Have you any questions to ask?’ - </p> - <p> - Redgrave paused. When, from ignorance or any other cause, he had nothing - to say, he contrived to produce an excellent effect by remaining silent - and peering through his gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘Only one,’ he said. ‘What - do you want to know?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘We don’t know what we want to know,’ said Simon Lock abruptly. ‘We want - to know anything and everything. Our suspicions are too vague to be - formulated, but, as directors of a great financial undertaking, we are - bound to practise precautions. We do not desire to dismiss Mr. Craig - without a reason. Such a course would be unfair—and unprofitable.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘May I define your position thus?’ said Redgrave. ‘You do not precisely - fear, but you perceive the possibility of, some scandal, some revelations, - which might harm the general reputation of the bank. And therefore you - wish to know, first, why Mr. Craig runs about Watling Street so much on a - motor-car; second, why, being possessed of a hundred thousand pounds, he - still cares to work for <i>you</i>; and third, why this Featherstone - killed himself.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Just so,’ said Simon Lock, pleased. - </p> - <p> - ‘Just so,’ echoed Sir Charles Custer. - </p> - <p> - Lord Dolmer gave his protégé a smile of satisfaction. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will undertake to assuage your curiosity on these points,’ Redgrave - said, with that air of serene confidence which came so naturally to him. - </p> - <p> - ‘And your fee?’ asked Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘If I fail, nothing. If I succeed I shall present my bill in due course.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘When shall we hear from you?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘In not less than a month.’ - </p> - <p> - That evening Richard strolled up the Edgware Road to Kilburn, and looked - at the exterior of the Kilburn branch of the British and Scottish. It - presented no feature in the least extraordinary. Richard was less - interested in the bank than in the road, the magnificent artery which - stretches, almost in a straight line, from the Marble Arch to Chester. - Truly the Roman builders of that road had a glorious disregard of - everything save direction. Up hill and down dale the mighty Watling Street - travels, but it never deviates. After sixty years of disuse, it had - resumed its old position as a great highway through the magnificence of - England. The cyclist and the motorist had rediscovered it, rejuvenating - its venerable inns, raising its venerable dust, and generally giving new - vitality to the leviathan after its long sleep. - </p> - <p> - To Richard Redgrave it seemed the avenue of adventure and of success. His - imagination devoured the miles between Kilburn and Dunstable, and he saw - the solitary farmhouse of Raphael Craig, bank manager, motorist, and - inheritor of a hundred thousand pounds in virgin silver coin. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER II—THE CIRCUS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> week later—and - in the meantime he had been far from idle—Richard Redgrave arrived - in Dunstable. It was a warm, sunshiny, sleepy day, such as suited that - sleepy town, and showed off its fine old church and fine old houses to - perfection. There is no theatre in Dunstable, no concert-hall, and nothing - ever excites this staid borough save a Parliamentary election or the - biennial visit of Bosco’s Circus. - </p> - <p> - On the morning of Richard’s arrival Dunstable was certainly excited, and - the occasion was Bosco, who, with his horses, camels, elephants, lions, - bears, acrobats, riders, trapezists, and pavilions, had encamped in a - large field to the south of the town. Along the whole of its length - Dunstable, which consists chiefly of houses built on either side of - Watling Street for a distance of about a mile and a half, was happily - perturbed by the appearance of Bosco’s gigantic, unrivalled, and - indescribable circus, which was announced to give two performances, at - two-thirty and at seven-thirty of the clock. And, after all, a circus - which travels with two hundred horses (chiefly piebald and cream), and - with a single tent capable of holding four thousand people, is perhaps - worthy to cause excitement. - </p> - <p> - Richard determined to patronize Mr. Bosco’s entertainment—he thought - he might pick up useful information in the crowd—and at two-thirty - he paid his shilling and passed up the gorgeous but rickety steps into the - pavilion. - </p> - <p> - A brass band was playing at its full power, but above the noise of the - trumpets could be heard the voice of the showman—not Bosco himself, - but an individual hired for his big voice—saying, ‘Step up, ladies - and gentlemen. Today happens to be the thirtieth anniversary of our first - visit to this town, and to celebrate the event we shall present to you - exactly the same performance as we had the honour of presenting, by - special command, to Her Majesty the Queen at Windsor last year. Step up, - step up, and see our great spectacle, the Relief of Mafeking! See the - talking horse! See Juana, the most beautiful rider in the world! Step up! - </p> - <p> - Children half-price to morning performance only.’ The big voice made - precisely this speech every day of his life all over England. - </p> - <p> - The circus was well filled, and the audience enthusiastic. The clowns had - an enormous success. As for Richard, he was more interested in Juana, the - horsewoman. She was a tall and beautiful girl, apparently of the Spanish - type. She rode, in a strictly conventional park riding costume, a superb - strawberry-roan mare, which at her command waltzed, circled, caracoled, - and did everything except stand on its head. Mare and rider were equally - graceful, equally calm and self-contained. It was a charming item in the - programme, but somewhat over the heads of the audience, save a few who - knew a born rider when they saw one. An elephant was brought in, a young - man in Indian costume being perched on its neck. The mare and the elephant - went through a number of evolutions together. Finally the mare reared and - lodged her forepaws on the elephant’s tremendous flank, and so situated - the strange pair made an exit which roused the house from apathy to wild - enthusiasm. Juana was vociferously recalled. She re-entered on foot, - holding her habit up with one hand, a light whip in the other. Richard - could not help being struck by the rather cold, sad, disdainful beauty of - the girl’s face. It seemed wrong that the possessor of such a face should - have to go through a series of tricks twice daily for the diversion of a - rustic audience. - </p> - <p> - ‘That wench is as like Craig’s girl as two peas.’ Richard turned quickly - at the remark, which was made by one of two women who sat behind him - industriously talking. The other agreed that there was some likeness - between ‘Craig’s girl’ and the lovely Juana, but not a very remarkable - one. - </p> - <p> - Richard left his seat, went out of the pavilion, and walked round the - outside of it towards the part where the performers entered the ring. - Attached to the pavilion by a covered way was a smaller tent, which was - evidently used as a sort of green-room by the performers. Richard could - see within, and it happened that he saw Juana chatting with a girl who was - very much like Juana, though rather less stately. The young man in Indian - costume, who had ridden the elephant, was also of the group. Soon the - young man went to another corner of the tent, and the two girls began to - talk more rapidly and more earnestly. Lastly, they shook hands and kissed, - Juana burst into tears, and her companion ran out of the tent. Richard - followed her at a safe distance through the maze of minor tents, vans, - poles, and loose horses, to the main road. A small, exquisitely-finished - motor-car stood by the footpath; the girl jumped on board, pulled a lever, - and was off in a northerly direction through Dunstable up Watling Street. - </p> - <p> - ‘Is that the road to Hockliffe?’ he asked a policeman. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It’s Raphael Craig’s daughter, I bet,’ he said to himself, and for some - reason or other smiled a satisfied smile. Then he added, half aloud, ‘But - who is Juana?’ - </p> - <p> - He went back to see the rest of the performance, and he had scarcely sat - down before he had cause to wish that he had remained outside. The famous - strawberry-roan mare, formerly ridden by Juana, was making a second - appearance as the talking horse, in charge of the young man who had shone - before in Indian costume, but who now wore the dress of a riding-master. - An attendant was walking along the front benches with a bundle of numbered - cards. He offered one to Richard, and Richard thoughtlessly accepted the - offer. From that moment the eyes of the entire assemblage were upon him. - </p> - <p> - ‘The gentleman,’ said the young man in charge of the mare, ‘has chosen a - card. Now, this wonderful animal will tell you the number of the card, and - a lot of other interesting information. I shall put questions to the - animal, which will answer “Yes” by nodding its head, and “No” by shaking - its head, and will count by stamping its off fore-foot on the ground.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard was disgusted at being thus made the centre of a trick, but there - was no help for it. - </p> - <p> - ‘What is the number of the card drawn by the gentleman?’ the young man - demanded of the mare. - </p> - <p> - She stamped her foot ten times on the tan. - </p> - <p> - ‘Number ten,’ said the young man. ‘Is that so, sir?’ - </p> - <p> - It was so. Richard nodded. Loud applause. - </p> - <p> - ‘Is the holder of the card a married man?’ - </p> - <p> - The mare shook her head. Laughter. - </p> - <p> - ‘He is a bachelor?’ - </p> - <p> - The mare lowered her head. More laughter. - </p> - <p> - ‘Will he ever be married?’ - </p> - <p> - The mare lowered her head again. Loud laughter. - </p> - <p> - ‘Soon?’ - </p> - <p> - Again the mare signed an affirmative. Shrieks of laughter. - </p> - <p> - ‘To a pretty girl?’ - </p> - <p> - The mare nodded decisively. - </p> - <p> - ‘Will they be blessed with many children?’ - </p> - <p> - The mare kicked out with her hindlegs, and ran as if horror-struck from - the ring, amid roars of rustic delight. This simple trick and joke, - practised for years and years with all kinds of horses, had helped as much - as anything to make the fortune of Bosco’s circus. It never failed of its - effect. - </p> - <p> - The final ‘turn’ of the show was the Relief of Mafeking. Under cover of - the noise and smoke of gunpowder, Richard contrived to make a stealthy - exit; he was still blushing. As he departed he caught a last glimpse of - Juana, who came into the ring in the character of a Red Cross nurse on the - field of battle. - </p> - <p> - That evening at midnight Richard issued forth from the Old Sugar Loaf - Hotel on a motor-car. Bosco’s circus was already leaving the town, and as - the straggling procession of animals and vehicles wandered up Watling - Street under the summer moon it made a weird and yet attractive spectacle—such - a spectacle as can be seen only on the high-roads of England. Its next - halting-place was eighteen miles north—a long journey. The cavalcade - was a hindrance to Richard, for he particularly desired to have Watling - Street between Dunstable and Hockliffe to himself that night. He waited, - therefore, until the whole of Bosco had vanished ahead out of sight. The - elephants, four in number, brought up the rear of the procession, and they - were under control of the young man whose trick with the strawberry-roan - mare had put Richard to the blush. There was no sign of the mare nor of - Juana. - </p> - <p> - Watling Street runs through a deep chalk-cutting immediately to the north - of Dunstable, and then along an embankment. This region at the foot of the - Chiltern Hills is famous for its chalk, which is got from immense broad - pits to the west of the high-road. As Richard’s car ran through the - cutting—it was electrical, odourless, and almost noiseless—he - perceived in front of him the elephant herd standing in the road. A little - further on he descried the elephant-keeper, who was engaged in converse - with a girl. Leaving his motor-car to take care of itself, Richard climbed - transversely up the side of the cutting, and thus approached nearer to the - pair. He saw now, in the brilliant white radiance of the moon, that the - girl was the same girl who had kissed Juana in the circus tent. She was - apparently urging the man to some course of action at which he hesitated. - Then the elephant-keeper called aloud to his elephants, and the man and - the girl, followed by the elephants, and followed also by Richard, passed - through an open gate at the northern end of the cutting, and so crossed a - very large uncultivated field. The extremity of the field descended - steeply into a huge chalk-pit, perhaps a hundred yards in circumference - and sixty feet deep, by means of a rough cart-track. At the end of the - cart-track, in the bottom of the pit, was a motorcar. Richard watched the - elephant-keeper single out one of the elephants and attach it by ropes to - the motor-car. Slowly the ponderous and docile creature dragged the - vehicle up the steep cart-track. The girl clapped her hands with joy. - </p> - <p> - ‘If she is Craig’s daughter——’ Richard exclaimed softly, and - then stopped. - </p> - <p> - Silhouetted sharply against the night-sky was the figure of Juana on the - strawberry-roan. Mare and rider stood motionless at the top of the - cart-track, and Richard, from his place of concealment, could see that - Juana was gazing fixedly into the chalk-pit The man with the elephants and - the girl with the motor-car had not perceived her, and before they could - do so she had ridden off down the field. It was a wonderful apparition, a - wonderful scene—the moon, the vast hemisphere of the purple sky, the - glittering and immense whiteness of the chalk-pit, the exotic forms of the - elephants contrasted with the motor-car, and, lastly, the commanding and - statuesque equestrian on the brow. Richard was quite impressed by the mere - beauty and strangeness, as well as by the mystery, of it all. What did it - mean? Why should Juana, an expert who would certainly receive a generous - salary, be riding at one o’clock a.m., seeing that the principal - performers, as Richard knew, usually travelled by train from one town to - the next? And why should she have followed these other two—the - elephant-keeper and the young girl who so remarkably resembled herself? - And having followed them and observed their movements, why should she - silently depart, without making known her presence? He had been able to - examine Juana’s face in the strong moonlight, and again he was moved by - its sad, calm, cold dignity. Juana seemed as though, at the age of - twenty-five or so—she could not be more—she had suffered all - the seventy and seven different sorrows which this world is said to - contain, and had emerged from them resolute and still lovely, but with a - withered heart. Her face almost frightened Richard. - </p> - <p> - With infinite deliberation the elephants and the motor-car arrived at the - top of the cart-track. The three elephants not engaged in hauling appeared - to have formed a prejudice against the motor-car; the fourth, the worker, - who had been used to dragging logs of teak in India, accepted his rôle - with indifference. He pulled nonchalantly, as if he was pulling a child’s - go-cart, thus, happily, leaving the keeper free to control the other - beasts. At length the cortège—it had all the solemnity of a funeral - pageant—passed safely into the field and out of Richard’s sight - towards the highroad. He heard the spit, spit of the petrol-engine of the - motor-car, now able to move of itself on the easy gradient, and - simultaneously a startling snort and roar from one of the elephants. It - occurred to him to hope that the leviathan had not taken it into his - gigantic head to wreck the machine. The notion was amusing, and he laughed - when he thought how frail a thing a motor-car would prove before the - attack of an elephant’s trunk. Then he proceeded duly towards the road, - hugging the hedge. Once more he heard the snort and the roar, and then a - stern cry of command from the keeper, a little scream from the girl, and - an angry squeak from the elephant. The spit, spit of the motor-car at the - same moment ceased. - </p> - <p> - When, after some minutes of scouting, he reached the gate and had a view - of the road, he rather expected to see the motor-car lying in fragments in - Watling Street, with, possibly, a couple of mangled corpses in the near - neighbourhood, and a self-satisfied elephant dominating the picture. But - his horrid premonitions were falsified.. The keeper had clearly proved the - superiority of man over the brute creation; he was astride the neck of the - obstreperous elephant, and the herd were trampling, with their soft, - flabby footfalls, down Watling Street, along the sloping embankment, into - the deep, broad valley which separates Dunstable from the belt of villages - to the north of it. The lady with the motor-car stood quiescent in the - road. She had got safely out of her chalk-pit, and was now waiting for the - elephants to disappear before proceeding on her journey. Richard hesitated - whether to return and examine the chalk-pit or to keep in touch with the - lady. What any creature—especially a woman, and a young woman—could - be doing with a motor-car in a chalk-pit in the middle of the night passed - his wit to conceive. Nor could he imagine how any sane driver of a - motor-car could take his car down such a steep slope as that cart-track - with the least hope of getting it up again without the assistance of an - elephant, or at least a team of horses. She must surely have been urged by - the very strongest reasons to descend into the pit. What were those - reasons? He wanted badly to examine the chalk-pit at once, but he decided - ultimately that it would be better to watch the lady—‘Craig’s girl.’ - The chalk-pit would always remain where it was, whereas the lady, - undoubtedly an erratic individuality, might be at the other end of the - world by breakfast-time. He crept back to his own car, found it unharmed - in the deep shadow where he had left it, and mounted. - </p> - <p> - By this time the elephant herd had accomplished a good quarter of a mile - down the gradual declivity of the embankment. ‘Craig’s girl’ started her - car and followed gently. It seemed, in the profound silence of the night, - that the spit, spit of her engine must be heard for miles and miles - around. Richard started his own car, and rolled noiselessly in the traces - of his forerunner. The surface of the road was perfect—for the - Bedfordshire County Council takes a proper pride in its share of this - national thoroughfare—and the vehicles moved with admirable ease, - Richard’s being about a couple of hundred yards in the rear. Just at the - top of the embankment is a tiny village, appropriately called Chalk Hill, - and this village possesses a post pillar-box, a Wesleyan chapel of the - size of a cottage, and an inn—the Green Man. As Richard swung past - the Green Man a head popped out of one of its windows. - </p> - <p> - ‘Anything wrong?’ asked a man. - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ said Richard, stopping his car and lowering his voice to a whisper, - lest the girl in front should hear and turn round. ‘Go back to bed,’ he - added. - </p> - <p> - ‘Go to bed yourself,’ the man said, apparently angry at this injunction. - ‘You circus-folk, you’ve got motor-cars now; as if camels and alligators - wasn’t enough, you’ve got motorcars a-grunting and a-rattling. Three - blessed hours you’ve been a-passing this house, and my wife down with - erysipelas.’ - </p> - <p> - Grumbling, the man closed the window. Richard laughed at being identified - with the retinue of Bosco’s circus. He felt that it was an honour, for in - the eyes of the village these circus-folk move always in an atmosphere of - glory and splendour and freedom. - </p> - <p> - He passed on. The girl in front was gradually overtaking the elephants, - which were scattered across the width of the road. Suddenly one of them - turned—the one ridden by the keeper—and charged furiously - back, followed more slowly by the others. Evidently the sound of the spit, - spit of the motor-car had renewed the animal’s anger. Perhaps it thought: - ‘I will end this spit, spit once for all.’ Whatever the brute’s thoughts, - the keeper could not dissuade it from its intentions, though Richard could - see him prodding it behind the ear with a goad. The girl, ‘Craig’s girl,’ - perceived the danger which she ran, and, after a moment’s vacillation, - began to wheel round, with the object of flying before this terrible - elephantine wrath. But that moment’s vacillation was her undoing. Ere she - could get the machine headed straight in the opposite direction the - elephant was upon her and her car. Richard trembled with apprehension, for - the situation was in truth appalling. With a single effort the elephant - might easily have pitched both girl and car down the steep side of the - embankment, which was protected only by a thin iron rail. Richard stopped - his own car and waited. He could do nothing whatever, and he judged that - the presence of himself and another car in the dreadful altercation might - lead even to further disasters. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0053.jpg" alt="0053 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0053.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - The elephant stood over the car, waving his trunk, seemingly undecided how - to go about his work of destruction; the keeper on his neck called and - coaxed in vain. The girl... Richard could see only the girl’s back; he was - thankful that he could not see her face. The other elephants waited in a - semicircle behind. Then, after an interval that was like a hundred years, - the leading elephant seized the steering-wheel of the motor-car, and, - twisting it off the rod as though it had been made of putty, flung it into - the road. That action seemed to appease the brute. He turned quietly away - and slouched off; his keeper had now ceased to prod him. The other - elephants followed meekly enough. The girl on the motor-car did not stir. - The peril was past, but Richard found his foot trembling against the - foot-brake of his car—such had been his agitation. - </p> - <p> - The elephant herd was five hundred yards away before the girl gave the - slightest sign of life. Then she slowly dismounted, and waved a hand to - the keeper, who had also dismounted from the elephant’s neck—a wave - of the hand that was evidently intended to convey an assurance that she - was unharmed and able to take care of herself. The keeper gave an - answering signal, and—wisely, as Richard thought—continued his - way up the opposite hill. - </p> - <p> - Richard pulled over the starting-lever of his car and leisurely approached - the girl. She had already seen him, since her own car was more than half - turned round, and therefore there could be no object in his attempting any - further concealment. He drew up by her side and raised his peaked cap. - </p> - <p> - ‘That was a nasty position for you to be in,’ he said, with genuine - sympathy. - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh, those elephants!’ she began gaily; ‘their trunks are so thick and - hairy, you’ve no idea——’ - </p> - <p> - Then she stopped, and, without the least warning, burst into tears. It was - a very natural reaction, and no one could wonder at such an exhibition. - Nevertheless, Richard felt excessively awkward; excessively at a loss what - to do under the circumstances. He could scarcely take her in his arms and - soothe her like a child; yet that was just the thing he wished to do. - </p> - <p> - ‘Come, come,’ he said, and his spectacles gleamed paternally at her in the - moonlight; ‘it is all over now.’ - </p> - <p> - She pulled out a microscopic lace handkerchief, wiped her eyes, and looked - at him. - </p> - <p> - ‘Forgive me,’ she exclaimed; and then, smiling: ‘It shan’t occur again.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You are a brave woman,’ he said sincerely—‘a very brave woman.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How?’ she asked simply. ‘I did nothing.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Most women would have fainted or screamed, and then there is no knowing - what might not have happened.’ He added, as she made no remark: ‘Can I be - of any assistance? Have you far to go? I suppose you must have - miscalculated your distances.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Why?’ she asked, in reference to the last remark. - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh, it’s so late, that’s all.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It is,’ she said, as though the fact had just struck her. ‘Yes, I must - have miscalculated my distances. Fortunately, I have only about a mile - more. You see the yellow house on the hill towards Hockliffe? That is my - destination.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You are Miss Craig?’ he said inquiringly. - </p> - <p> - ‘I am. You belong, then, to these parts?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I happen to know the name of the owner of Queen’s Farm, that is all,’ he - admitted cautiously. - </p> - <p> - ‘I am much obliged for your sympathy,’ she said. ‘I shall walk home, and - send a horse for the car to-morrow morning.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I could tow it behind my car,’ he suggested. - </p> - <p> - ‘Pardon me, you couldn’t,’ she said flatly; ‘the steering is smashed.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I had thought of that,’ he replied quietly, as he picked up the small - broken wheel out of the road. ‘If we tie a rope to either end of your - front axle, and join them at the rear of my car, your car would steer - itself automatically.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘So it would,’ she said; ‘you are resourceful. - </p> - <p> - I will accept your offer.’ Then she examined his car with the rapid glance - of an expert. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well I never!’ she murmured. - </p> - <p> - He looked a question. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is a curious coincidence,’ she explained, ‘but we have recently - ordered an electric car precisely like yours, and were expecting it to - arrive to-morrow—my father and I, I mean. Yours is one of the - Williamson Motor Company’s vehicles, is it not?’ - </p> - <p> - Richard bowed. - </p> - <p> - ‘There is no coincidence,’ he said. ‘This car is destined for Mr. Craig. I - am bringing it up to Hockliffe. You will remember that Mr. Craig asked - that it should be sent by road in charge of a man?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘A man!’ she repeated; and, after a pause: - </p> - <p> - ‘You are, perhaps, a partner in the Williamson Company?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Not a partner,’ he said. - </p> - <p> - It may be explained here that the aforesaid Williamson Company had - supplied Lord Dolmer with his motor-car. Richard had visited their office - in order to ascertain if, by chance, Mr. Raphael Craig was a customer of - theirs, and had been told that he was, and, further, that there was an - electric car then on order for him. It was a matter of but little - difficulty for Richard to persuade Williamson’s manager to allow him to - pose for a few days as an employe of the company, and to take the car up - to Hockliffe himself. He foresaw that in the rôle of a motor-car expert he - might gain a footing at Craig’s house which could not be gained in any - other way. - </p> - <p> - When the two cars had been attached, and the journey—necessarily a - slow one—began, a rather desultory conversation sprang up between - Richard and Miss Craig, who sat by his side in the leading car. - </p> - <p> - ‘You, too, must have miscalculated your distances,’ she said suddenly, - after they had discussed the remarkable beauty of the moon. - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ he said, ‘I like travelling at night. I admit that I thought - Hockliffe considerably further on. I expected to deliver the car about - breakfast-time.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You will permit us to offer you a bed?’ she said. ‘You will be able to - get at least five hours’ sleep. We breakfast at seven. It is early, but - that is my father’s custom.’ - </p> - <p> - He thanked her. - </p> - <p> - ‘Take the little road on the right,’ she directed him later. ‘It leads - only to our house In Ireland we call such a road a boreen.’ - </p> - <p> - It was then that he noted a faint Irish accent in her voice. - </p> - <p> - Richard brought the two cars to a standstill in front of a green gate. - Leaning over the gate was an old man. - </p> - <p> - ‘Teresa!’ the old man murmured. - </p> - <p> - She rushed at him and kissed him passionately. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER III—CHINK OF COINS - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am getting on - excellently,’ said Richard to himself as he descended from the car; but - his self-satisfaction was momentarily checked by the glance flashed at him - by the old man—a glance which seemed to penetrate at once to that - locked chamber where Richard kept his secret intentions and desires. - </p> - <p> - He returned the glance modestly, and then wondered whether, after all, Mr. - Craig was as old as he looked. The manager of the Kilburn branch of the - British and Scottish Bank had white hair, rather long at the back, and a - heavy white beard; a pale face with prominent bones, the lower jaw large - and protruding, the nose fine and delicate, the black eyes deep-set; the - forehead was rather narrow, but the bossy temples gave indication of - unusual intellectual force. The face was the face of an old man, yet the - eyes were young and fresh. Richard remembered that Simon Lock had stated - the manager’s age to be fifty-five, and he came to the conclusion that - this might be a fact, though any merely casual observer would have put it - at sixty-five at least. - </p> - <p> - ‘Who is——’ Raphael Craig began questioning in tones of - singular politeness, with a gesture in the direction of Richard, after he - had returned his daughter’s salutation. - </p> - <p> - ‘This is a gentleman from the Williamson Company, dad,’ Teresa explained. - ‘He has brought the new car. He likes travelling at night, and thought our - house was much further on.’ - </p> - <p> - Then she explained the circumstance of the elephant’s attack. - </p> - <p> - ‘Humph!’ exclaimed Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - Richard affected to be occupied solely with the two motor-cars. He judged - it best to seem interested in nothing else. He blew out the oil-lamps of - the old car, and switched off the electric lights of the new one. Teresa - turned instantly to the latter, and began to turn the light off and on. - Her father, too, joined in the examination of the car, and both father and - daughter appeared to be wholly wrapped up in this new toy. Richard had to - explain all the parts. He soon perceived that he had chanced on one of - those households where time is of no account. Teresa and Raphael Craig saw - nothing extraordinary in thus dawdling over a motor-car at one o’clock in - the morning by the light of the moon. After a thorough inspection of the - machine Teresa happened to make some remark about three-speed gears, and a - discussion was launched in which Richard had to join. A clock within the - house chimed two. - </p> - <p> - ‘Suppose we have supper, dad?’ said Teresa, as if struck by a novel and - rather pleasing idea—‘suppose we have supper. The moon will soon be - setting.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And Mr. ——’ said Raphael. - </p> - <p> - ‘Redgrave,’ said Richard. ‘Richard Redgrave.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Will sup with us, I trust,’ said Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘True, there are seven inns in the village, but the village is asleep, and - a mile off. We must offer Mr. Redgrave a bed, dad.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Humph!’ exclaimed the old man again. - </p> - <p> - It was, perhaps, a strange sort of remark, yet from his lips it sounded - entirely correct and friendly. - </p> - <p> - ‘I am getting on excellently,’ mused Richard once more. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mike!’ the girl called. ‘Micky!’ - </p> - <p> - A very small, alert man instantly appeared round the corner of the garden - wall, running towards them. He kept his head bent, so that Richard could - not clearly see his face. - </p> - <p> - ‘What is it ye’ll be after, Miss?’ Micky asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘Take charge of these cars. Put them in the shed. Perhaps Mr. Redgrave - will be good enough to assist you with the new one.’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig walked towards the house. In three minutes, the cars being - safely housed in a shed which formed part of some farm buildings, Richard - and Teresa joined him in the spacious hall of the abode. Supper was served - in the hall, because, as Teresa said, the hall was the coolest place in - the house. Except an oldish, stout woman, who went up the stairs while - they were at supper, Richard saw no sign of a domestic servant. Before the - meal, which consisted of cold fowl, a pasty, and some more than tolerable - claret, was finished, Raphael Craig excused himself, said ‘Good-night’ - abruptly, and retired into one of the rooms on the ground-floor. Richard - and Teresa were then left alone. Not a word further had been exchanged - between father and daughter as to the daughter’s adventures on the road. - So far as the old man’s attitude implied anything at all, it implied that - Teresa’s regular custom was to return home at one in the morning after - adventures with motor-cars and elephants. Richard thought this lack of - curiosity on the part of the old man remarkably curious, especially as - Raphael and his daughter were obviously very much attached to each other. - </p> - <p> - ‘The circus was amusing this afternoon,’ Richard remarked. - </p> - <p> - The talk had flagged. - </p> - <p> - ‘Where was it?’ Teresa asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘At Dunstable,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Really!’ she said, ‘I had not heard!’ - </p> - <p> - This calm and nonchalant lie astounded - </p> - <p> - Richard. She was a beautiful girl—vivacious, fresh, charming. She - could not have long passed her twentieth year, and her face seemed made of - innocence and lilies. Yet she lied like a veteran deceiver. It was - amusing. Richard removed his spectacles, wiped them, and replaced them. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ he continued, ‘I went to the afternoon performance. The clowns were - excellent, and there was a lady rider, named Juana, who was the most - perfect horsewoman I have ever seen.’ - </p> - <p> - Not a muscle of that virginal face twitched. - </p> - <p> - ‘Indeed!’ said Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘I thought, perhaps, you had been with friends to the evening - performance,’ Richard said. - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh no!’ Teresa answered. ‘I had had a much longer journey. Of course, as - I overtook those absurd elephants in the cutting, I knew that there must - be a circus somewhere in the neighbourhood.’ - </p> - <p> - Then there was another lull in the conversation. - </p> - <p> - ‘More wine, Mr. Redgrave?’ Teresa invited him. - </p> - <p> - He thanked her and took another glass, and between the sips said: - </p> - <p> - ‘I am told this is a great chalk district—there are large - chalk-pits, are there not?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you can see them from our windows. Very ugly they look, - too!’ - </p> - <p> - ‘So far, good!’ Richard privately reflected. - </p> - <p> - He had, at any rate, learnt that the Craigs had something to conceal. - </p> - <p> - The hall clock struck three. Outside it was broad daylight. - </p> - <p> - ‘That is a quarter of an hour fast,’ said Teresa. ‘But perhaps it might be - as well to go to bed. You are probably not used to these hours, Mr. - Redgrave? I am. Micky! Micky!’ - </p> - <p> - The small, alert man came down the side-passage leading into the hall from - the back part of the house. - </p> - <p> - ‘This is decidedly a useful sort of servant,’ thought Richard, as he - looked intently at Mike’s wrinkled, humorous face. - </p> - <p> - The Irishman seemed to be about thirty-five years of age. - </p> - <p> - ‘Micky,’ said Teresa, ‘show Mr. Redgrave to his room—the room over - here. Bridget has prepared it; but see that all is in order.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘That I will, miss,’ said Micky, but only after a marked pause. - </p> - <p> - Richard shook hands with his hostess and ascended the stairs in Micky’s - wake, and was presently alone in a not very large bedroom, plainly but - sufficiently furnished, and with some rather good prints of famous - pictures on the walls. - </p> - <p> - ‘Without doubt,’ he said, as he got into bed, ‘I have had a good day and - deserve a good night. I must take measures to stop here as long as I can.’ - </p> - <p> - He had scarcely closed his eyes when there was a tap at the door, the - discreetest possible tap. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well?’ he inquired. - </p> - <p> - ‘It’s myself, sorr,’ said the voice of Micky familiarly. - </p> - <p> - ‘Come in, then, Mike,’ Richard said with equal familiarity. - </p> - <p> - He already liked Micky; he felt as though he had known Micky for many - years. - </p> - <p> - Richard had drawn both the blind and the curtains, and the room was in - darkness; he could only discern the outline of a figure. - </p> - <p> - ‘The mistress told me to remind your honour that breakfast was at seven - sharp.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I was aware of it,’ Richard said dryly; ‘but I thank your mistress for - the reminder.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘An’ begging pardon, sorr, but d’ye know where it is you’re sleeping?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘At present,’ said Richard, ‘I’m not sleeping anywhere.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Ah, sorr! Don’t joke. Mr. Featherstone slept in this room, sorr. Did ye - know Mr. Featherstone?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What!’ cried Richard, starting up. ‘Do you mean the man that committed - suicide?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The same, sorr. But speak low, your honour. It’s myself that should not - have mentioned it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Why not?’ Richard asked, subduing his voice. - </p> - <p> - ‘The master might not like it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then why do you tell me?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘They say it’s unlucky to sleep in a room where a suicide slept the last - night of his life.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then Mr. Featherstone killed himself the day he left here?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure he did so. And I thought I’d warn you.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh, well,’ said Richard, ‘it’s no matter. I dare say it won’t affect my - repose. Goodnight. Thanks.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I’d like ye to sleep in another room—I’d like ye to,’ urged Mike in - a persuasive whisper. - </p> - <p> - ‘No, thanks,’ said Richard firmly; ‘I’m settled now, and will take the - risk.’ - </p> - <p> - Micky sighed and departed. As soon as he was gone Richard rose out of bed, - pulled the curtains aside, and made a minute examination of the room. But - he could discover nothing whatever beyond the customary appurtenances of - an ordinary middle-class bedchamber. There was a chest of drawers, of - which every drawer was locked. He tried to push the chest away from the - wall in order to look behind it, but the thing was so heavy that he could - not even move it. He returned to bed. At the same time his ear caught the - regular chink of coins, such a sound as might be made by a man - monotonously counting money. It continued without interruption. At first - Richard imagined it to proceed from under the bed, but he knew that this - was impossible. Then he thought it came from the room to the left, then - from the room to the right. Chink—chink—chink; the periodic - noise had no cessation. - </p> - <p> - ‘What coins can they be?’ Richard asked himself; and decided that such a - full, rich chink could only be made by half-crowns or crowns. - </p> - <p> - He endeavoured to sleep, but in vain; for the sound continued with an - exasperating regularity. Then he seemed uneasily to doze, and woke up with - a start; the sound was still going on. The hall clock struck five. He - jumped out of bed, washed and dressed himself, and went quietly - downstairs. The sound had mysteriously ceased. With a little difficulty he - opened the hall door and passed out into the garden. - </p> - <p> - It was a lovely morning; the birds sang ravishingly, and a gentle breeze - stirred the cypress-trees which lined the drive. The house was absolutely - plain as regards its exterior—a square, solid, British farmhouse. A - meadow that was half orchard separated it from the high-road. Away from - the house, on the other side of it, and at the end of a large garden, was - a long range of low buildings, in the form of a quadrangle, which had, - presumably, once been the farmstead; they presented, now, a decayed and - forlorn look. Richard walked past the front of the house, under its - shuttered windows, across the garden, towards these farm buildings. As he - opened a gate in the garden wall he saw Mike issuing cautiously from one - of the sheds. - </p> - <p> - Simultaneously there was a tremendous crash from the house—an - ear-splitting crash, a crash that might have been caused by ten domestic - servants dropping ten trays of crockery on a brick floor. But the crash - had a metallic ring with it that precluded the idea of a catastrophe in - earthenware. - </p> - <p> - Richard and Micky glanced at each other. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IV—MR. PUDDEPHATT - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>ichard saw that - Mike was quite as startled as himself at the sound of that appalling crash - within the house. But in a moment the Irish man-of-all-work had recovered - his wits. - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure,’ he said, his eyes twinkling, ‘the Day o’ Judgment has come along - unexpected.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What was it?’ Richard asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mrs. Bridget must have pulled the kitchen dresser on the top of her,’ - said Mike. ‘Or it’s a procession of cups and saucers down the cellar steps - and they missed their footing.’ - </p> - <p> - But, in spite of the man’s jocular tone, Richard thought he perceived - something serious in Mike’s face. It occurred to him that the Irishman had - guessed the true cause of the noise, and was trying to hide it from the - visitor. - </p> - <p> - ‘You’re up early in these parts,’ said Richard, determined to ignore the - crash. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’m a bad sleeper, your honour, and when I can’t sleep I get up and enjoy - the works of Nature—same as your honour.’ The man looked as fresh as - though he had had a long night’s rest. ‘Like to see the horses, sorr?’ he - added. - </p> - <p> - ‘Certainly,’ said Richard, following Mike into the stable, which was at - that end of the range of farm buildings nearest the house. A couple of - Irish mares occupied the two stalls of the stable, fine animals both, with - clean legs and long, straight necks. But Richard knew nothing of horses, - and after a few conventional phrases of admiration he passed into the - harness-room behind the stable, and so into what had once been a large - farmyard. - </p> - <p> - ‘No farming here nowadays,’ he said. - </p> - <p> - ‘No, sorr,’ said Mike, taking off his coat, preparatory to grooming the - mares. ‘Motorcars and farming don’t go together. It’s many a year since a - hen clucked on that midden.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard went into several of the sheds. In one he discovered a Panhard - car, similar to that belonging to Lord Dolmer. He examined it, saw that it - was in order, and then, finding a screwdriver, removed the screw which - held the recoil-spring of its principal brake; he put the screw in his - pocket. Then he proceeded further, saw the other two cars in another shed, - and next door to that shed a large workshop full of Yankee tools and - appliances. Here, improving on his original idea, he filed the thread of - the screw which he had abstracted, returned to the first shed, and - replaced the screw loosely in its hole. At the furthest corner of the - erstwhile farmyard was a locked door, the only locked door in the - quadrangle. He tried the latch several times, and at last turned away. - From the open door of the harness-room Mike was watching him. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’ve been on a voyage of discovery,’ he called, rather self-consciously, - across the farmyard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Did your honour happen to discover America?’ Mike answered. - </p> - <p> - Richard fancied that he could trace a profound irony in the man’s tone. - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ he laughed back. ‘But I think I’ll try to discover the village. - Which way?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Along the boreen, sort; then up the hill and down the hill, and you’ll - come to it if you keep going. It’s a mile by day and two by night.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard reached the house again precisely at seven o’clock. Teresa was out - in the garden gathering flowers. They exchanged the usual chatter about - being up early, walks before breakfast, and the freshness of the morning, - and then a gong sounded. - </p> - <p> - ‘Breakfast,’ said Teresa, flying towards the house. - </p> - <p> - The meal was again served in the hall. Richard wondered at its promptness - in this happy-go-lucky household, but when he saw the face of the stern - old woman named Bridget he ceased to wonder. Bridget was evidently a - continual fount of order and exactitude. Whatever others did or failed to - do, she could be relied upon to keep time. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Raphael Craig came out of the room into which he had vanished six - hours earlier. He kissed Teresa, and shook Richard’s hand with equal - gravity. In the morning light his massive head looked positively noble, - Richard thought. The bank manager had the air of a great poet or a great - scientist. He seemed wrapped up in his own deep meditations on the - universe. - </p> - <p> - Yet he ate a noticeably healthy breakfast. Richard counted both the - rashers and the eggs consumed by Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - ‘How do you go to town, dad?’ asked Teresa. ‘Remember, to-day is - Saturday.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I shall go down on the Panhard. You smashed the other last night, and I - don’t care to experiment with our new purchase this morning.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No, you won’t go down on the Panhard,’ Richard said to himself; ‘I’ve - seen to that.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Perhaps I may have the pleasure of taking Mr. Redgrave with me?’ the old - man added. - </p> - <p> - ‘I shall be delighted,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Do you object to fast travelling?’ asked Mr. Craig. ‘We start in a - quarter of an hour, and shall reach Kilburn before nine-thirty.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The faster the better,’ Richard agreed. - </p> - <p> - ‘If you please, sir, something’s gone wrong with the brake of the Panhard. - The thread of one of the screws is worn.’ - </p> - <p> - The voice was the voice of Micky, whose head had unceremoniously inserted - itself at the front-door. - </p> - <p> - A shadow crossed the fine face of Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - ‘Something gone wrong?’ he questioned severely. - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure, your honour. Perhaps the expert gentleman can mend it,’ Mike - replied. - </p> - <p> - Again Richard detected a note of irony in the Irishman’s voice. - </p> - <p> - The whole party went out to inspect the Panhard. Richard, in his assumed - rôle of expert, naturally took a prominent position. In handling the - damaged screw he contrived to drop it accidentally down a grid in the - stone floor. - </p> - <p> - ‘Never mind,’ said Raphael Craig, with a sharp gesture of annoyance. ‘I - will drive to Leighton Buzzard and catch the eight-ten. It is now - seven-thirty. Harness Hetty instantly, Mick.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘That I will, sorr.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Let me suggest,’ Richard interposed, ‘that I take you to Leighton on the - new car. I can then explain the working of it to you, and return here, - retrieve the screw which I have so clumsily lost, and put the Panhard to - rights, and possibly mend the other one.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh yes, dad,’ said Teresa, ‘that will be splendid, and I will go with you - to Leighton and drive the car back under Mr. Redgrave’s instructions.’ - </p> - <p> - In three minutes the new electric car was at the front-door. Mr. Raphael - Craig had gone into the house to fetch his bag. He came out with a rather - large brown portmanteau, which from the ease with which he carried it, was - apparently empty. The car was in the form of as mall wagonette, with room - for two at the front. Mr. Craig put down the bag in the after-part of the - car, where Teresa was already sitting, and sprang to Richard’s side on the - box-seat As he did so the bag slipped, and Richard seized it to prevent it - from falling. He was astounded to find it extremely heavy. By exerting all - his strength he could scarcely lift it, yet Mr. Craig had carried it with - ease. The bank manager must be a Hercules, notwithstanding his years! - </p> - <p> - The five and a half miles to Leighton Buzzard Station, on the London and - North-Western main line, was accomplished in twenty minutes, and Mr. - Raphael Craig pronounced himself satisfied with the new car’s performance. - </p> - <p> - ‘If you don’t mind, Mr. Redgrave,’ he said, ‘you might meet me here with - this car at two-forty-five this afternoon—that is, if you can spare - the time. Meanwhile, perhaps the Panhard will be mended, and my daughter - will entertain you as best she can.’ - </p> - <p> - Mr. Craig seemed to take Richard’s affirmative for granted. Stepping off - the car, he threw a kiss to Teresa, picked up the bag as though it had - been a feather, and disappeared into the station. - </p> - <p> - ‘May I drive home?’ Teresa asked meekly, and Richard explained the tricks - of the mechanism. - </p> - <p> - Speeding through the country lanes, with this beautiful girl by his side, - Richard was conscious of acute happiness. He said to himself that he had - never been so happy in the whole of his life. He wished that he could - forget the scene in the chalk-pit, the mysterious crash, Teresa’s lies, - the suicide of Featherstone, and every other suspicious circumstance. He - wished he could forget Mr. Simon Lock and his own mission. But he could - not forget, and his conscience began to mar his happiness. What was he - doing in the household of the Craigs? Was he not a spy? Was he not taking - advantage of Teresa’s innocent good-nature? Bah! it was his trade to be a - spy, for what other term could be employed in describing a private inquiry - agent? And as for Teresa’s innocence, probably she was not so innocent - after all. The entire household was decidedly queer, unusual, - disconcerting. It decidedly held a secret, and it was the business of him, - Richard Redgrave, specialist, to unearth that secret. Simon Lock was one - of the smartest men in England, and his doubts as to the <i>bona fides</i> - of Mr. Raphael Craig seemed in a fair way to be soon justified. ‘To work, - then,’ said Richard resolutely. - </p> - <p> - ‘Don’t you like Micky?’ the girl asked, with an enchanting smile. - </p> - <p> - ‘Micky is delightful,’ said Richard; ‘I suppose you have had him for many - years. He has the look of an old and tried retainer.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Hasn’t he!’ Teresa concurred; ‘but we have had him precisely a fortnight. - You know that Watling Street, like all great high-roads, is infested with - tramps. Micky was a Watling Street tramp. He came to the house one day to - shelter from a bad thunderstorm. He said he was from Limerick, and badly - in need of work. I was at school in a Limerick convent for five years, and - I liked his Irish ways and speech. We happened to be desperately in need - of an odd man, and so I persuaded father to engage him on trial. Micky is - on trial for a month. I do hope he will stop with us. He doesn’t know very - much about motor-cars, but we are teaching him, and he does understand - horses and the garden.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Only a fortnight!’ was all Richard’s response. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, but it seems years,’ said the girl. - </p> - <p> - ‘I was much struck by his attractive manner,’ said Richard, ‘when he came - to my room last night with your message.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘My message?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, about breakfast.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘That must be a mistake,’ said Teresa. ‘I never sent any message.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘He said that you desired to remind me that breakfast was at seven - o’clock.’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa laughed. - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh!’ she said, ‘that’s just like Micky, just like Micky.’ - </p> - <p> - The frank, innocent gaiety of that laugh made Richard forget Teresa’s fibs - of the previous night. He could think of nothing but her beauty, her - youth, her present candour. He wished to warn her. In spite of the obvious - foolishness of such a course, he wished to warn her—against herself. - </p> - <p> - ‘Has it ever occurred to you, Miss Craig,’ he said suddenly, and all the - time he cursed himself for saying it, ‘that Mr. Craig’s—er—mode - of life, and your own, might expose you to the trickeries of scoundrels, - or even to the curiosity of the powers that be? Permit me, though our - acquaintance is so brief and slight, to warn you against believing that - things are what they appear to be.’ - </p> - <p> - There was a pause. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she said slowly, ‘do you mean to imply——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I mean to imply nothing whatever, Miss Craig.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But you must——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Listen. I saw you at the circus yesterday, and in the——’ - </p> - <p> - He stopped at the word ‘chalk-pit.’ He thought that perhaps he had - sacrificed himself sufficiently. - </p> - <p> - ‘At the circus!’ she exclaimed, then blushed as red as the vermilion - wheels of the electric car. ‘You are an excessively rude man!’ she said. - </p> - <p> - ‘I admit it,’ he answered. - </p> - <p> - ‘But I forgive you,’ she continued, more mildly; ‘your intentions are - generous.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘They are,’ said Richard, and privately called himself a hundred different - sorts of fool. - </p> - <p> - Why, why had he warned her against espionage? Why had he stultified his - own undertaking, the whole purpose of his visit to Queen’s Farm, - Hockliffe? Was it because of her face? Was Richard Redgrave, then, like - other foolish young men in spring? He admitted that it appeared he was. - </p> - <p> - When they arrived at the farm Richard deposited his hostess at the - front-door, and ran the car round to the outbuildings, calling for Micky. - But Micky was not about He saw the stable-door open, and, dismounting, he - entered the stable. There was no sign of Micky. He went into the - harness-room and perceived Micky’s coat still hanging on its peg. He also - perceived something yellow sticking out of the inside pocket of the coat - He made bold to examine the pocket, and found a French book—the - Memoirs of Goron, late chief of the Paris police. - </p> - <p> - ‘Rather a strange sort of Irish tramp,’ Richard thought, ‘to be reading a - French book, and such a book!’ - </p> - <p> - With the aid of the admirable collection of tools in Mr. Raphael Craig’s - workshop, Richard, who was decidedly a gifted amateur in the art of - engineering, set to work on the damaged motor-cars, and an hour before - lunch-time both the Panhard and the Décauville voiturette were fully - restored to the use of their natural functions. He might easily have - elongated his task, after the manner of some British workmen, so as to - make it last over the week-end; but he had other plans, and, besides, he - was not quite sure whether he wished to continue the quest which he had - undertaken on behalf of Mr. Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - At twelve o’clock he made his way to the house, and found Micky weeding - the drive. The two mares were capering in the orchard meadow which - separated the house from the road. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, Mike,’ said Richard, ‘I see you’ve lived in France in your time.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Not me, sorr! And what might your honour be after with those words?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You weed in the French way,’ Richard returned—‘on hands and knees - instead of stooping.’ - </p> - <p> - It was a wild statement, but it served as well as another. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’ve never been to France but once, your honour, and then I didn’t get - there, on account of the sea being so unruly. ’Twas a day trip to - Boulogne from London, and sure we had everything in the programme except - Boulogne. ’Twas a beautiful sight, Boulogne, but not so beautiful - as London when we arrived back at night, thanks to the Blessed Virgin.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then you are a French scholar?’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Wee, wee, bong, merci! That’s me French, and it’s proud I am of it, your - honour. I’ve no other tricks.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Haven’t you!’ thought Richard; and he passed into the house. - </p> - <p> - Mike proceeded calmly with his weeding. On inquiry for Miss Craig, - Bridget, with a look which seemed to say ‘Hands off,’ informed him that - the young lady was in the orchard. He accordingly sought the orchard, and - discovered Teresa idly swinging in a hammock that was slung between two - apple-trees. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, Mr. Redgrave,’ she questioned, ‘have you found that lost screw?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I have found it,’ he said, ‘and put both cars in order. What with three - cars and two horses, you and Mr. Craig should be tolerably well supplied - with the means of locomotion.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘After all, the horses are the best.’ She sat up in the - hammock and called ‘Hetty!’ One of the mares lifted its head, whinnied, - and advanced sedately to the hammock. Teresa stroked the creature’s nose. - ‘Isn’t she a beauty, Mr. Redgrave? See.’ - </p> - <p> - In an instant Teresa had sprung on the mare’s back, and was cantering, - bareback and without bridle, across the meadow. Hetty was evidently docile - to the last degree, and could be guided by a touch of the hand on the - neck. - </p> - <p> - ‘What do you think of that, Mr. Redgrave?’ asked the girl proudly when she - returned. - </p> - <p> - Richard paused. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is as good as Juana,’ he said quietly. ‘I had no idea you were such a - performer.’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa flushed as she slipped easily, to the ground. - </p> - <p> - ‘I am not such a performer,’ she stiffly replied. - </p> - <p> - ‘I came to tell you,’ said Richard, ignoring her petulance, ‘that I have - to go to a place in the village on some other business for my firm, I will - get my lunch at one of the inns, and be back at——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Now, Mr. Redgrave,’ she interrupted him, ‘don’t be horrid. I have told - Bridget to prepare a charming lunch for us at one-fifteen, and at - one-fifteen it will be ready. You cannot possibly leave me to eat it - alone.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I can’t,’ he admitted. ‘At one-fifteen I will be here. Thank you for - telling Bridget to get something charming.’ He raised his hat and - departed. - </p> - <p> - Now, the first dwelling in the village of Hockliffe as you enter it by - Watling Street from the south is a small double-fronted house with a small - stable at the side thereof. A vast chestnut-tree stands in front of it, - and at this point the telegraph-wires, which elsewhere run thickly on both - sides of the road, are all carried on the left side, so as not to - interfere with the chestnut-tree. Over the front-door of the house, which - is set back in a tiny garden, is a sign to this effect: ‘Puddephatt, Wine - Merchant.’ Having descried the sign, the observant traveller will probably - descry rows of bottles in one of the windows of the house. - </p> - <p> - As Richard sauntered down the road in search of he knew not what, Mr. - Puddephatt happened to be leaning over his railings—a large, stout - man, dressed in faded gray, with a red, cheerful face and an air of - unostentatious prosperity. - </p> - <p> - ‘Morning,’ said Puddephatt. - </p> - <p> - ‘Morning,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Fine morning, said Mr. Puddephatt. - </p> - <p> - Richard accepted the proposition and agreed that it was a fine morning. - Then he slackened speed and stopped in front of Mr. Puddephatt. - </p> - <p> - ‘You are Mr. Puddephatt?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The same, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I suppose, you haven’t got any Hennessy 1875 in stock?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Have I any Hennessy 1875 in stock, sir? Yes, I have, sir. Five-and-six a - bottle, and there’s no better brandy nowhere.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I’m not feeling very well,’ said Richard, ‘and I always take Hennessy - 1875 when I’m queer, and one can’t often get it at public-houses.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No, you can’t, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You don’t hold a retail license?’ Richard asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘No, sir. I can’t sell less than a shilling’s worth, and that mustn’t be - drunk on the premises. But I tell you what I can do—I’ll give you a - drop. Come inside, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It’s awfully good of you,’ said the brazen Richard; and he went inside - and had the drop. - </p> - <p> - In return he gave Mr. Puddephatt an excellent cigar. Then they began to - talk. - </p> - <p> - ‘I want a lodging for a night or two,’ Richard said after a time; and he - explained that he had brought a motor-car up to the Queen’s Farm, and had - other business in the district for his firm. - </p> - <p> - ‘I can find ye a lodging,’ said Mr. Puddephatt promptly. ‘An aunt o’ mine - at the other end of the village has as nice a little bedroom as ever you - seed, and she’ll let you have it for a shilling a night, and glad.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Could you arrange it for me?’ Richard asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘I could, sir,’ said Mr. Puddephatt; and then reflectively: ‘So you’ve - come up to Queen’s Farm with a motor-car. Seems there ’re always - having motor-cars there.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I suppose they’re perfectly safe, eh?’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh, they’re safe enough,’ Mr. Puddephatt replied emphatically. ‘Very nice - people, too, but a bit queer.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Queer? How?’ - </p> - <p> - Mr. Puddephatt laughed hesitatingly. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that Miss Craig’s knocking about these roads on them - motor-cars day and night. Not but what she’s a proper young lady.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But everyone goes about on motor-cars nowadays,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Mr. Puddephatt. ‘But everyone doesn’t pay all their bills in - new silver same as the Craigs.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘They pay for everything in new silver, do they?’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘That they do, sir. I sold ’em a couple of Irish mares when they - first come to the Queen’s Farm. Dashed if I didn’t have to take the money - away in my dog-cart!’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But is it not the fact that an uncle of Mr. Craig’s died a couple of - years ago and left him a large fortune in silver—an old crank, - wasn’t he?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘So people say,’ said Mr. Puddephatt sharply, as if to intimate that - people would say anything. - </p> - <p> - ‘It’s perfectly good silver, isn’t it?’ Richard asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh, it’s good enough!’ Mr. Puddephatt admitted in the same tone as he had - said ‘Oh, they’re safe enough!’ a few moments before. - </p> - <p> - ‘How long has Mr. Craig lived at the Queen’s Farm?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘About two years,’ said Mr. Puddephatt. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Simon Lock, then, was wrongly informed. Mr. Lock had said that Craig - had lived at the farm for many years. - </p> - <p> - ‘Where did he come from?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Before that he had a small house under Dunstable Downs—rather a - lonesome place, near them big chalk-pits,’ Mr. Puddephatt answered. ‘He - seems to like lonesome houses.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Near the chalk-pits, eh?’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘As you’re a motorcar gent,’ said Mr. Puddephatt later, ‘I reckon I can’t - sell you a horse.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I thought you sold wines and spirits.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘So I do. I supply the gentry for miles around; but I does a bit in horses—and - other things. And there isn’t a man as ever I sold a horse to as I can’t - look in the face this day. I’ve got the prettiest little bay cob in my - stable now——’ - </p> - <p> - Richard was obliged to say that that was not his season for buying - horse-flesh, and, thanking Mr. Puddephatt, he left the wineshop. - </p> - <p> - ‘A house near the chalk-pits,’ he mused. Then he turned back. ‘I’ll let - you know about the room later in the day,’ he said to Mr. Puddephatt. - </p> - <p> - ‘Right, sir,’ answered Mr. Puddephatt. - </p> - <p> - Richard could not refrain from speculating as to how much Mr. Puddephatt - already knew about the Craigs and how much he guessed at. Mr. Puddephatt - was certainly a man of weight and a man of caution. The wine-merchant’s - eyes continually hinted at things which his tongue never uttered. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER V—FIRE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he luncheon with - Teresa was a pronounced social success. French rather than Irish in - character, it was eaten under a plum-tree in the orchard. Micky waited at - table with his hat on, and then disappeared for awhile. At two o’clock he - rose again above the horizon, and said that the electric car was at the - door. Richard and Teresa set off to meet the two-thirty train at Leighton - Buzzard. By this time they had certainly become rather intimate, according - to the way of young persons thrown together—by no matter what chance—in - the month of June—or any other month. It was not, perhaps, unnatural - that Raphael Craig, when he emerged from the railway-station and found the - two laughing and chatting side by side in the motor-car, should have cast - at them a sidelong glance, in which were mingled amusement, alarm, and - warning. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Raphael carried the large brown portmanteau, which was now—as - Richard discovered by handling it—quite empty. On the journey home - Teresa drove the car, and her father sat by her side. Richard occupied the - rear of the car, giving a hint occasionally as to the management of the - machine. - </p> - <p> - ‘I think I have nothing further to do here,’ he said when the party had - arrived safely at Queen’s Farm. ‘Both the other cars are in order. I will - therefore bid you good-day. Should anything go wrong with this car, you - will doubtless let us know.’ - </p> - <p> - He spoke in his most commercial manner, though his feelings were far from - commercial. - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig bent those dark, deep eyes of his upon the youth. - </p> - <p> - ‘I have been telephoning to your firm this morning,’ said Craig, ‘and have - arranged with them that you shall take the Panhard back to town. They are - going to take it off my hands—at a price.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘With pleasure,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘But,’ Mr. Craig continued, ‘I wish to use the Panhard this week-end. - Therefore you cannot remove it till Monday.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Very good,’ said Richard, ‘I will present myself on Monday morning.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And in the meantime?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘In the meantime I have other business for my firm in the neighbourhood.’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa’s glance intercepted her father’s, and these two exchanged a look. - The old man frowned at his daughter. - </p> - <p> - ‘Good-day,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - Raphael and Teresa shook hands with him. Was he a conceited ass, or did - Teresa really seem grieved? - </p> - <p> - ‘Till Monday,’ said Teresa. - </p> - <p> - Richard walked down to the village, engaged Miss Puddephatt’s room, and - dined at the White Horse Hotel. He had not yet definitely decided what - course of conduct to follow. He was inclined to do nothing further in the - affair, and to tell Simon Lock on Monday that, so far as he could - discover, Simon Lock’s suspicions about Raphael Craig were groundless. He - had taken no money from Simon Lock, and he would take none. Yet why should - he pause now? Why should he not, for his own private satisfaction, probe - the mystery to the bottom? Afterwards—when the strange secret stood - revealed to him—there would be plenty of time then to decide whether - or not to deliver up Raphael Craig into the hands of Simon Lock. Yes, on - consideration he would, for his own pleasure, find out whatever was to be - found out. - </p> - <p> - That evening, an hour after sunset, he lay hidden behind a hedge on the - west side of Watling Street, exactly opposite the boreen leading to the - Queen’s Farm. - </p> - <p> - Richard slept. He was decidedly short of sleep, and sleep overtook him - unawares. Suddenly from the end of the boreen came the faint spit, spit of - a motor-car, growing louder as it approached the main road. Would it awake - Richard? No, he slept stolidly on. The motor-car, bearing an old man and a - young girl, slid down into the valley towards Dunstable, and so out of - hearing. An hour passed. The church clock at Houghton Regis, two miles off - to the east, struck midnight. Then the car might have been heard - returning, it laboured heavily up the hill, and grunted as though - complaining of its burden as it curved round into the boreen towards - Queen’s Farm. - </p> - <p> - Richard awoke. In a fraction of a second he was wide awake, alert, eager, - excited. He saw the car vanishing towards the outbuildings of Queen’s - Farm. Springing out of the hedge, he clambered over the opposite hedge - into Craig’s orchard, crossed it, passed the house by its north side, and - so came to the quadrangle of outbuildings. By keeping on the exterior of - this quadrangle he arrived at last, skirting the walls, at the blind end - of the boreen. He peeped cautiously round the angle of the wall, scarcely - allowing even the tip of his nose to protrude, and discerned the empty - motor-car. He ventured forward into the boreen. It was at this corner of - the quadrangle that the locked shed was situated. Rather high up in the - wall a light disclosed the presence of a small window. The faintness of - the light proved that the window must be extremely dirty. But even if it - had been clean he could not have utilized it, for it was seven feet from - the earth. He put his hand on the wall and touched a spout. The spout felt - rickety, but he climbed up it, and, clinging partly to the spout and - partly to the frame of the window, he looked into the locked shed. It had - once, he perceived, been used as a stable, but it was being put to other - purposes now. The manger was heaped up with bright silver coins. In the - middle of the floor stood a large iron receptacle of peculiar shape. He - guessed that it had been constructed to fit into the well of the Panhard - motor-car. By means of two small buckets Teresa and her father were - transferring the contents of this receptacle, which was still half full of - silver, into the manger. - </p> - <p> - The shed was ‘lighted by a single candle stuck insecurely on what had once - been a partition between two stalls. The candle flickered and cast strange - shadows. The upper part of the chamber was in darkness. Looking straight - across it, Richard saw another little window exactly opposite his own; and - through this window he discerned another watching face. - </p> - <p> - ‘Micky!’ he exclaimed softly to himself. - </p> - <p> - Raphael and Teresa were, then, doubly spied upon. But who was Micky? - </p> - <p> - Richard’s attention was diverted from this interesting inquiry by the - gradual growth of a light near the door, of which, being parallel with his - window, he had no view. Then a long, licking flame appeared. He could see - it creeping across the floor, nearer and nearer to the unconscious heavers - of silver. Raphael had turned on the waste tap of the exhaust petrol under - the motor-car. The highly combustible quid had run beneath the door of the - shed it had there come in contact with the ax match used by Raphael to - light the candle and then thrown down. Richard saw next that the door of - the shed was on fire; at the same moment, unable any longer to keep his - grip on the spout and the window-frame, he fell unexpectedly to the - ground. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VI—THE DESIRE FOR SILVER - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he blazing door - was locked. Richard called, shouted shouted again. There was no answer, - but in the extraordinary outer silence he could still hear the industrious - shovelling of silver. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well,’ he said to himself, ‘they’re bound to find out pretty soon that - the show’s on fire.’ - </p> - <p> - He threw himself against the door angrily, and, to his surprise, it - yielded, and he fell over the river of flame into the interior of the - shed. The noise at last startled Raphael and Teresa out of the - preoccupation of their task. - </p> - <p> - ‘Haven’t you perceived that the place is being burned down?’ he exclaimed - drily. - </p> - <p> - At the same instant he sprang towards Teresa. The stream of burning petrol - had found its way into the central runnel of the stone floor, and so had - suddenly reached the hem of Teresa’s dress, which already showed a small - blaze. Fortunately, it was a serge travelling frock; had it been of light - summer material, Teresa would probably have been burnt to death. Richard - dragged her fiercely from the region of the runnel, and extinguished the - smouldering serge between his hands, which showed the scars of that timely - action for a fortnight afterwards. He glanced round quickly, saw a pile of - empty sacks in a corner—had they been used as money-bags? he - wondered—and, seizing several of them, laid them fiat on the burning - petrol and against the door. His unhesitating celerity no doubt prevented - a magnificent conflagration. The petrol, it is true, had nearly burnt - itself out, but the woodwork of the door was, in fireman’s phrase, ‘well - alight,’ and, being aged and rotten, it formed a quick fuel. - </p> - <p> - When the flames had been conquered, the three occupants of the shed looked - at each other without a word. Strange to say, under the steady gaze of - Raphael Craig, Richard’s eyes blinked, and he glanced in another direction—up - at the little window in the opposite wall where he had seen the face of - Micky, but where the face of Micky was no longer on view. Then he looked - again at Raphael Craig, whose dark orbs seemed to ask accusingly: ‘What - are you doing here?’ And, despite the fact that he had in all probability - been the means of saving Teresa’s life, he could not avoid the absurd - sensation of having been caught in a misdeed. He felt as if he must - explain his presence to Raphael Craig. At that juncture, we are obliged to - confess, his imperturbability deserted him for a space. - </p> - <p> - ‘I—I happened to be passing the end of the road,’ he said lamely, - ‘and I saw what I took to be a flame, so I ran along—and found—this, - I’m glad it’s no worse.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘So am I,’ said Raphael Craig, with cold gravity. - </p> - <p> - Teresa was silent. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’m glad I was in time,’ said Richard, as awkwardly as a boy. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’m glad you were,’ Mr. Craig agreed. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is possible that my daughter owes her life to you. I cannot imagine - how I could have been so careless with that petrol. It was inexcusable. We - thank you, Mr. Redgrave, for your services so admirably rendered.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Richard; ‘that’s nothing at all.’ - </p> - <p> - The whole interview was becoming too utterly ridiculous. But what could be - said or done? It was the heaps of silver coins lying about that rendered - the situation so extremely difficult. Useless for Raphael Craig to pretend - that he and Teresa had been engaged in some perfectly usual and - common-place task. Useless for Richard, notwithstanding his lame - explanation, to pretend that he had not been spying. The heaps of silver - made all parties excessively self-conscious, and when you are - self-conscious you can never say the right thing in the right manner. - </p> - <p> - It was Raphael Craig who first, so to speak, came to himself. - </p> - <p> - ‘As you are here, Mr. Redgrave,’ he said, ‘as you have already laid us - under one obligation, perhaps you will consent to lay us under another. - Perhaps you will help us to finish off these few coins. Afterwards I will - beg the honour of a few words with you in private.’ - </p> - <p> - It was magnificent, thought Richard, this audacious manouvre of the old - man’s. It took the bull by the horns in a very determined fashion. It - disarmed Richard instantly. What course, save that of complying with so - calm and courteous a request, could he pursue? He divined that Raphael - Craig was not a man moulded to the ordinary pattern of bank managers, - ‘With pleasure,’ he replied, and thereupon the heaps of silver seemed less - bizarre, less confusing, less productive of a general awkwardness. By a - fiction unanimously agreed to, all three began to behave as if shovelling - thousands of new silver coins at dead of night in a disused stable was a - daily affair with them. - </p> - <p> - Still without uttering a word, Teresa handed her galvanized iron bucket to - Richard. He noticed a little uncertainty in the motion of her hand as she - did so. The next moment there was a thud on the floor of the stable. - Teresa had fainted. She lay extended on the stone floor. Richard ran to - pick up that fair frame. He had lifted the girl’s head when the old man - interposed. - </p> - <p> - ‘Never raise the head of a person who has lost consciousness,’ he said - coldly; ‘it is dangerous. Teresa will recover in a few minutes. This swoon - is due only to the shock and strain of the last few minutes. In the - meantime, will you open the door?’ - </p> - <p> - Richard, having complied, stood inactive, anxious to do something, yet - finding nothing to do. - </p> - <p> - ‘Shall I fetch some water from the house?’ he asked. ‘Swoons are sometimes - very serious if they last too long.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Are they, my friend?’ said Raphael, with the trace of a smile. ‘This one - is already over—see?’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa opened her eyes. - </p> - <p> - ‘What are you two staring at?’ she inquired curiously, and then sighed as - one fatigued. - </p> - <p> - Her father raised her head in his arm and held it so for a few moments. - </p> - <p> - ‘Now, my chuck,’ he said, ‘try if you can stand. Mr. Redgrave, will you - assist me?’ - </p> - <p> - Mr. Redgrave assisted with joy. The girl at length stood up, supported on - one side by Raphael Craig and on the other by the emissary of Simon Lock. - With a glance at Richard, she said she could walk. Outside stood the - motor-car. - </p> - <p> - ‘Shall we take her round to the front-door on this?’ Richard suggested. - </p> - <p> - ‘Are you mad?’ exclaimed Raphael Craig, with sudden disapproval. ‘Teresa - will walk.’ - </p> - <p> - He locked the charred door of the stable with a padlock which he took from - his pocket, and they proceeded to the house. - </p> - <p> - Bridget stood at the front-door, seeming to expect them. - </p> - <p> - ‘You’re not well, mavourneen,’ she said, glancing at Teresa’s face, and - led the girl away. - </p> - <p> - During the whole of the time spent by him at Queen’s Farm nothing - impressed Richard more than the impassive yet affectionate demeanour of - Mrs. Bridget, that mysterious old servant, on this occasion. - </p> - <p> - The two men were left together in the hall. Mrs. Bridget and Teresa had - gone upstairs. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mike!’ Raphael Craig called. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, sorr,’ answered Mike, appearing from a small butler’s pantry under - the staircase. - </p> - <p> - ‘Bring whisky into the drawing-room.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘That I will, sorr.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard admired Micky’s sangfroid, which was certainly tremendous, and he - determined to have an interview with the man before many hours were past, - in order to see whether he could not break that sangfroid down. - </p> - <p> - ‘Come into the drawing-room, will you?’, said Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - ‘Thanks,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - The drawing-room proved to be the room into which Mr. Craig had vanished - on the <i>previous</i> night. It presented, to his surprise, no unusual - feature whatever. It had the customary quantities of chairs, occasional - tables, photographs, knicknacks, and cosy corners. It was lighted by a - single lamp suspended from the middle of the ceiling. The only article of - furniture that by any stretch of fancy could be termed extraordinary in a - drawing-room was a rather slim grandfather’s clock in an inlaid case of - the Sheraton period. This clock struck one as they went into the room. - </p> - <p> - Micky arrived with the whisky. - </p> - <p> - ‘You will join me?’ asked Raphael, lifting the decanter. - </p> - <p> - ‘Thanks,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘That will do, Mike.’ - </p> - <p> - Mike departed. The two men ignited cigars and drank. Each was seated in a - large easy-chair. - </p> - <p> - ‘Now for it,’ said Richard to himself. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Raphael Craig coughed. - </p> - <p> - ‘I dare say, Mr. Redgrave,’ the bank manager began, ‘that certain things - which you have seen this evening will have struck you as being somewhat - strange.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I am happy to have been of any help,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - Raphael bowed. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will not disguise from you,’ he continued, that when you arrived here - in such a peculiar manner last night I had my suspicious of your good - faith. I even thought for a moment—it was very foolish of me—that - you were from Scotland Yard. I don’t know why I should have thought that, - but I did think it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Really,’ said Richard, ‘I have not the least connection with Scotland - Yard. I told you my business.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I believe you,’ said Raphael. ‘I merely mention the course of my thoughts - concerning you. I am fully convinced now that, despite certain unusual - items connected with your visit, you are exactly what you said you were, - and for my doubts I now offer apology. To tell you the truth, I inquired - from the Williamson Company this morning as to you, and was quite - reassured by what they said. But,’ Mr. Craig went on, with a very - pronounced ‘but,’ interrupting Richard, who had embarked on some protest—‘but - I have at the same time been forced to the conclusion, Mr. Redgrave, that - my household, such as it is, and my ways, such as they are, have roused in - you a curiosity which is scarcely worthy of yourself. I am a fairly good - judge of character, and I know by infallible signs that you have a nature - far above idle curiosity.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Thanks for your good opinion,’ said Richard; ‘but, to deal with your - suspicions in their order, may I ask why you thought at first that I was - an agent of Scotland Yard? Were you expecting Scotland Yard at Queen’s - Farm?’ - </p> - <p> - He could not avoid a faint ironic smile. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Craig threw his cigar into the fireplace. - </p> - <p> - ‘I was,’ said Raphael briefly, ‘and I will tell you why. Some time ago an - uncle of mine died, at a great age, and left me a huge fortune. My uncle, - Mr. Redgrave, was mad. For fifty years he had put all his savings into - silver coins. He had once been in a Mexican silver-mine, and the - experience in some mysterious way had affected his brain. Perhaps his - brain was already affected. He lived for silver, and in half a century he - collected more than half a million separate silver coins—all - English, all current, all unused. This fortune he bequeathed to me. I was, - in fact, his sole relative.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘A strange old fellow he must have been,’ Richard remarked. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Raphael. ‘But I am equally strange. I have said that my uncle - had a mania. I, too, have that mania, for I tell you, Mr. Redgrave, that I - cannot bring myself to part with those coins. I have the same madness for - silver that my uncle had. Away from the silver, I can see myself steadily, - can admit frankly to myself that on that one point my brain is, if you - like the term, “touched.” In the presence of the silver I exist solely for - it, and can think of nothing else.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Nevertheless,’ said Richard dispassionately, ‘I was told in the village - to-day that you paid for everything in silver. If you are so attached to - silver, how can you bring yourself to part with it? Why not pay in gold?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Because,’ Raphael replied, ‘I never handle gold save in my professional - capacity as bank manager. I take my salary in silver. I cannot help it. - The weight frequently proves a difficulty, but I cannot help it. Silver I - must have. It is in my blood, the desire for silver. True, I pay away - silver—simply because I have no other coins available.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I see,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - He scarcely knew what to think of his strange companion. The man seemed - absolutely sane, absolutely in possession of every sense and faculty, yet, - behold him accusing himself of madness! - </p> - <p> - ‘Let me finish,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘When I came into my uncle’s fortune - I was at a loss what to do with it. The small house which I then had over - at Sewell, near Chalk Hill, had no accommodation for such a valuable and - ponderous collection. I made a confidante of my daughter. She sympathized - with me, and suggested that, at any rate for a time, I should conceal the - hoard in a disused chalk-pit which lay a few hundred yards from our house. - The idea, at first sight rather wild, grew upon me. I adopted it. Then I - took this house, and gradually I have removed my silver from the chalk-pit - to Queen’s Farm. It is hidden in various quarters of the place. We brought - the last load to-night.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘This is very interesting,’ said Richard, who had nothing else to say. - </p> - <p> - ‘I have told you this,’ the old man concluded, ‘in order to account to you - for what you saw to-night in that stable. It is but just that you should - know. I thank you again for your prompt services in the matter of the - fire, and I ask you, Mr. Redgrave, to pity the infirmity—the - harmless infirmity—of an old man.’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig stood up and gazed at Richard with his deep-set melancholy - eyes. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is an infirmity which draws suspicion upon this house as a magnet - draws iron. Once already I have had the local police up here making stupid - inquiries. I put them off as well as I could. Daily I am expecting that - the directors of the bank will call me up to explain my conduct. Yet I - cannot do otherwise.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Why,’ said Richard, ‘if you are rich, do you still care to serve the - bank? Pardon my impertinence, but, surely, if you left the bank one source - of your apprehensions would be stopped?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I cannot leave the bank,’ said Raphael Craig, with solemn pathos; ‘it - would break my heart.’ - </p> - <p> - With these words he sank back into a chair, and appeared to be lost in - thought So the two sat for some time. Then Richard rose and went quietly - towards the door. - </p> - <p> - ‘You are the only person, save Teresa, who knows my secret. Remember that, - Mr. Redgrave.’ - </p> - <p> - The manager’s voice sounded weak and distant. Richard bowed and stole from - the room. He sucked at his cigar, but it had gone out. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VII—NOLAN - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">V</span>ery quietly he - sauntered to the front-door, which was ajar, and into the portico. He - stood there meditating. In front he could vaguely discern the forms of the - trees in the orchard, but beyond these nothing. The night was as dark as a - wolfs mouth. Then the sound of a horse’s rapid hoof caught his ear. The - wind had fallen, and everything was still. Looking down the hill, he could - see the light of a vehicle ascending the slope of Watling Street. The - sound of the horse’s trot came nearer and nearer, passed the end of the - boreen, and so continued up the hill, getting fainter now, till it died - entirely away as the vehicle dipped down the gradient into Hockliffe. The - vehicle was one of her late Majesty’s mails, which took that route at that - hour on Saturday nights only. It constituted a perfectly simple weekly - phenomenon, yet somehow the birth, growth, fading, and death of the sound - of the horse’s trot on the great road affected Richard’s imagination to a - singular degree. - </p> - <p> - ‘What is my position up here now?’ he asked himself. ‘Am I to depart an - unconfessed spy, without another word to Raphael Craig or Teresa, or—what?’ - </p> - <p> - The old man’s recital had touched him, and Teresa’s swoon had decidedly - touched him more. - </p> - <p> - He strolled very leisurely down the drive, staring about him. Then, with - senses suddenly alert, he whispered: - </p> - <p> - ‘Come out, there. I see you quite well.’ Micky was hiding in the bushes - under the drawing-room window. The little man obeyed complacently enough. - </p> - <p> - ‘Come out into the road with me, Mike; I want to have a chat with you.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard had sufficient tact not to put any sign of reproof or anger into - his tone. He accepted Micky’s spying as a thing of course. They walked - along the boreen together and up the high-road towards Hockliffe. - </p> - <p> - ‘Now,’ said Richard, ‘we can talk at our ease here; we shan’t be - overheard.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What does your honour want to talk about?’ asked Micky, with a great air - of innocence. - </p> - <p> - ‘You can drop the “your honour,” and all that rigmarole, my friend, and - tell me who you really are. To prevent any unnecessary untruths, I may as - well tell you at the start that I found Goron’s Memoirs in the pocket of - your coat in the harness-room yesterday morning. From that moment I knew - you were playing a part here.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Like you,’ said Micky quickly. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes—if it pleases you—like me. What I want to know is, are - you a detective?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And what I want to know is,’ said Micky, who had abandoned most of his - Irish accent, ‘what are you?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Let us not beat about the bush,’ said Richard impatiently. ‘You’re a - decent chap, so am I. I will begin by confessing that I am a private - inquiry agent employed by the British and Scottish Bank.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh,’ said Micky, ‘I knew it was something of that sort Have you ever - heard of a detective named Nolan?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What! <i>the</i> Nolan?’ asked Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘The same,’ said Micky. - </p> - <p> - ‘You are Nolan?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I have the honour—or the dishonour.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I am glad to meet you,’ said Richard. ‘Of course, I know you well by - reputation. How thoroughly you go into an affair! Fancy you acting as odd - man here for weeks! I tell you you have completely imposed on them.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Have I?’ exclaimed Micky—or Nolan, as he must now be called. ‘I - should be glad to be assured of that. Twice to-day I have feared that - Raphael Craig had his doubts of me.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I don’t think so for a moment,’ said Richard positively. ‘But what is - your object—what is Scotland Yard after? Personally, I came here - without any theories, on the chance of something turning up.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Scotland Yard is merely curious about the suicide—if it was a - suicide—of a man named Featherstone, and about the plague of silver - which has visited this district during the last year or two.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You say “if it was a suicide.” Do you suspect that Featherstone’s death - was due to anything else?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I never suspect until I know, Mr. Redgrave. I am here with an open mind.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And what have you discovered so far?’ asked Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘My very dear sir,’ Nolan expostulated, ‘what do you take me for? I am - sure that you are a man of unimpeachable honour—all private agents - are—but, nevertheless, I cannot proclaim my discoveries to a - stranger. It would be a breach of etiquette to do so, even if such a - course were not indiscreet.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I give you my word, Mr. Nolan, that my activity in this case is now - entirely at an end. I have found out this evening all that I wished to - know, and perhaps more than I wished to know. I shall return to town on - Monday morning, and Bedfordshire will know me no more.’ He paused, and - added: ‘At least, it will know me no more as a private inquiry agent.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Or motor-car expert,’ said Nolan. - </p> - <p> - Richard laughed. - </p> - <p> - ‘I was merely asking you,’ Richard resumed, ‘how far you had got, in the - hope that possibly I might be able to simplify matters for you.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You are very good,’ said Nolan, with an indescribable accent of irony—a - bantering tone which, however, was so good-humoured that Richard could not - take exception to it—‘you are very good.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You have found out, I presume, something concerning the chalk-pit?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh yes,’ said Nolan, ‘I have found out something concerning the - chalk-pit.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And you know what the crash Was early this morning?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I have a notion,’ said Nolan. - </p> - <p> - ‘And, since I saw your inquisitive face at the window of that stable - to-night, you know what that stable contains?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Not quite to half-a-crown,’ said Nolan, but approximately.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘By the way,’ Richard asked, ‘why on earth didn’t you come and assist in - putting out the fire?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What! And give myself away?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It might have been a matter of life and death.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, it might have been. Had it got so far, I dare say I should have - sacrificed my standing here, my reputation with these people as a simple - Irishman, in order to save them. But I knew that you were there, and that - you would do all that was necessary.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I only just got into the place in time,’ said Richard sharply. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes. It is a pity that you burnt your hands.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How do you know that I burnt my hands?’ Richard asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘I can tell by the way you hold them,’ said Nolan. - </p> - <p> - ‘It was worth it,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Was it?’ observed Nolan quietly. ‘I am glad. Of course, now that you have - found out everything——’ - </p> - <p> - He drew up standing in the road. His voice showed that Richard had made - some little impression on that great man from Scotland Yard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Admit first,’ said Richard, his eyes twinkling through the gold-rimmed - spectacles, ‘that you were guilty of the grossest indiscretion—not - to say stupidity—in leaving Goron’s Memoirs, a yellow-covered French - book, lying about the harness-room—you, an Irish labourer.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I admit that in that matter I was an inconceivable ass,’ said Nolan - cheerfully. - </p> - <p> - ‘Good!’ said Richard; ‘you shall have your reward.’ - </p> - <p> - Then Richard told him all that he had learnt from the lips of Raphael - Craig. There was a silence when he had finished. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Nolan, ‘it’s rather an impressive story; it impresses even me. - But do you believe it?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I believe what Craig told me. If he lied, he is the finest actor I ever - saw.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Listen,’ said Nolan. ‘Does this tale of Craig’s explain his daughter’s - visit to Bosco’s circus and her chat with Juana, and her unblushing fibs - to you afterwards?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How did you hear about that?’ questioned Richard savagely. - </p> - <p> - He scarcely liked Nolan’s curt language in regard to Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘I did hear about it,’ said Nolan; ‘let that suffice. And listen further. - I will make you a present of a fact—an absolutely indisputable fact—which - I have discovered: Raphael Craig never had an uncle. His father was an - only son. Moreover, no person has died within the last few years who could - by any means be related to Craig. The records at Somerset House have been - thoroughly searched.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No uncle!’ was all Richard, the nonplussed, could murmur. - </p> - <p> - ‘And,’ Nolan continued, ‘while I am about it, I will make you a present of - another little fact. You say that Craig told you that he had brought all - his silver here, the last load having arrived to-night. On the contrary, - he has gradually been taking silver away from here, I admit that he has - brought some, but he has carted far more away. For what else should he - need all this generous supply of motorcars?’ - </p> - <p> - Richard began to suspect that he had mistaken his vocation. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER VIII—THE PEER’S ADVICE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the Monday - morning Richard presented himself at Queen’s Farm. The day was jocund, the - landscape smiled; in the forty-acre field below the house a steam-plough, - actuated by two enormous engines and a steel hawser, was working at the - bidding of a farmer who farmed on principles of his own, and liked to do - his ploughing at midsummer. The steam-plough rattled and jarred and jolted - like a humorous and high-spirited leviathan; the birds sang merrily above - it; the Chiltem Hills stretched away in the far distance, bathed in - limitless glad sunshine; and Watling Street ran white, dazzling, and - serene, down the near slope and up the hill towards Dunstable, curtained - in the dust of rural traffic. - </p> - <p> - In the midst of all these things joyous and content, behold Richard, - melancholy and full of discontent, ringing at the front-door bell of - Queen’s Farm. He rang and rang again, but there was no answer. It was - after eight o’clock, yet not a blind had been drawn up; and the people of - the house had told him that they took breakfast at seven o’clock! Richard - had passed a wretched week-end in the village of Hockliffe, his one solace - having been another chat with Mr. Puddephatt, wine-merchant and - horse-dealer to the nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood. He was at a - loss what to do. What, indeed, could he do? The last words of Nolan, the - detective, had given him pause, hinting, as they did, at strange mysteries - still unsolved. Supposing that he, Richard, continued his investigations - and discovered some sinister secret—some crime? The point was that - Teresa was almost certainly involved in her father’s schemes. Here was the - difficulty which troubled him. His fancy pictured a court of justice, and - Raphael Craig and Teresa in the dock, and Richard Redgrave giving evidence - against them, explaining how he had spied upon them, dogged their - footsteps, and ultimately arrived at the heart of the mystery. Could he do - that? Could he look Teresa in the face? And yet, what, after all, was - Teresa to him—Teresa, whom he had known only three days? - </p> - <p> - That was the question—what was Teresa to him? - </p> - <p> - He rang again, and the jangle of the bell reverberated as though through a - deserted dwelling. Then he walked round the house by the garden, in the - hope of encountering Micky, otherwise Mr. Nolan of Scotland Yard. But not - a sign of Mr. Nolan could he see anywhere. The stable-door was unlocked; - the mares were contentedly at work on a morning repast of crushed oats, - followed by clover-hay, but there was no Micky. He began to think that - perhaps Nolan knew a great deal more than he had chosen to tell during - that night walk along Watling Street. Perhaps Nolan had returned to - Scotland Yard armed with all the evidence necessary to conduct a - magnificent <i>cause célèbre</i> to a successful conclusion. He could see - the posters of the evening papers: ‘Extraordinary Affair in Bedfordshire: - A Bank Manager and his Daughter charged with——’ - </p> - <p> - Charged with what? - </p> - <p> - Pooh! When he recalled the dignified and absolutely sincere air of Raphael - Craig at their interview in the drawing-room in the early hours of Sunday - morning, when he recalled the words of the white-haired man, uttered with - an appealing glance from under those massive brows: ‘I ask you, Mr. - Redgrave, to pity the infirmity, the harmless infirmity, of an old man’—when - he recalled these words, and the manner of the speaker, he could not but - think that Nolan must be on an absolutely false scent; he could not but - believe that the Craigs were honest and innocent. - </p> - <p> - He at last got round to the kitchen-door of the house and knocked. The - door was immediately opened—or, rather, half opened—by Mrs. - Bridget, who put her head in the small aperture thus made after the manner - of certain women. She merely looked at him severely, without uttering a - word. - </p> - <p> - ‘I wish to see Mr. Craig,’ he said calmly. - </p> - <p> - ‘I was to tell ye the motor-car is in the shed, and ye are kindly to - deliver it at Williamson’s.’ - </p> - <p> - This was her reply. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig is not up, then? Miss Craig——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I was to tell ye the motor-car is in the shed, and ye are kindly to - deliver it at Williamson’s.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Thank you. I perfectly understand,’ said Richard. ‘Miss Craig, I hope, is - fully recovered?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I was to tell ye the motor-car——’ - </p> - <p> - Thinking that this extraordinary Irishwoman was scarcely in full - possession of her wits that morning, Richard turned away, and proceeded to - the shed where the motor-cars were kept. The Panhard, he found, was ready - for action, its petrol-tank duly filled, its bearings oiled, its brasswork - polished. He sprang aboard and set off down the boreen. As he passed the - house, gazing at it, one of the drawn blinds on the first-floor seemed to - twitch aside and then fall straight again. Or was it his imagination? - </p> - <p> - He turned into Watling Street, and then, on the slope, set the car to its - best pace. He reached the valley in a whirl of dust at a speed of forty - miles an hour. The great road stretched invitingly ahead. His spirits - rose. He seemed to recover somewhat from the influence of the mysteries of - Queen’s Farm. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’ll chuck it,’ he shouted to himself above the noise of the flying car—‘that’s - what I’ll do. I’ll go and tell Lord Dolmer this very morning that I can’t - do anything, and prefer to waste no more time on the affair.’ - </p> - <p> - After that he laughed, also to himself, and swerved the car neatly to - avoid half a brick which lay in the middle of the road. It was at that - moment that he perceived, some distance in front, his friend Mr. - Puddephatt. Mr. Puddephatt was apparently walking to Dunstable. Richard - overtook him and drew up. - </p> - <p> - ‘Let me give you a lift,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0126.jpg" alt="0126 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0126.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Mr. Puddephatt surveyed the Panhard askance. - </p> - <p> - ‘Let you give me a lift?’ Mr. Puddephatt repeated. It was his habit to - repeat the exact words of an interlocutor before giving a reply. ‘No, - thanks,’ said he. ‘I’m walking to Dunstable Station for exercise.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What are you going to Dunstable Station for?’ asked Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’m for Lunnon—horse sale at the Elephant and Castle. Perhaps you - know the Elephant and Castle, sir?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I’ll give you a lift to London, if you like,’ said Richard, seizing the - chance of companionship, of which he was badly in need. ‘We shall get - there quite as soon as your train.’ - </p> - <p> - Mr. Puddephatt eyed the car suspiciously. He had no sympathy with - motor-cars. - </p> - <p> - ‘Are you afraid?’ asked Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Am I afraid?’ he repeated. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I ain’t afraid. But I’d sooner - be behind a three-year-old than behind one of them things. But I’ll try it - and see how I like it. And thank ye, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - So Mr. Puddephatt journeyed with Richard to London. - </p> - <p> - Perhaps it was fate that induced Mr. Puddephatt, when they had discussed - the weather, horses, motor-cars, steam-ploughs, wine, parish councils, - London, and daily papers, to turn the conversation on to the subject of - the Craigs. Mr. Puddephatt had had many and various dealings with the - Craigs, and he recounted to Richard the whole of them, one after another, - in detail. It seemed, from his narrative, that he had again and again, - from sheer good-nature, saved the Craigs from the rapacity and - unscrupulousness of the village community. - </p> - <p> - ‘Nice young lady, that Miss Teresa,’ observed Mr. Puddephatt. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - By this time they had passed through St. Albans and were well on the way - to Edgware. - </p> - <p> - ‘They do say,’ said Mr. Puddephatt, leaning back luxuriously against the - cushions—‘they do say as she isn’t his daughter—not rightly.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘They say what?’ asked Richard quietly, all alert, but not choosing to - seem so. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Puddephatt reaffirmed his statement. - </p> - <p> - ‘Who says that?’ asked Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh!’ said Mr. Puddephatt, ‘I dare say it isn’t true. But it’s gotten - about the village. Ye never know how them tales begin. I dare say it isn’t - true. Bless ye, there’s lots o’ tales.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh, indeed!’ Richard remarked sagaciously. - </p> - <p> - ‘Ay!’ said Mr. Puddephatt, filling his pipe, ‘lots o’ tales. That night as - she ran away from the farm, and Mrs. Bridget had to fetch her back from - the White Horse—— Everybody said as how the old man - ill-treated her, daughter or no daughter.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘When was that? - </p> - <p> - ‘A few weeks back,’ said Mr. Puddephatt laconically. - </p> - <p> - This was all he would say. - </p> - <p> - ‘It’s a queer world, Mr. Puddephatt,’ said Richard aloud. To himself he - said: ‘Then perhaps she isn’t involved with her father—if he is her - father.’ - </p> - <p> - At length they reached the suburbs of London and had to moderate their - speed. As they wound in and out through the traffic of Kilburn, Richard’s - eye chanced to catch the sign of the British and Scottish Bank. He drew up - opposite the mahogany doors of the bank and, leaving Mr. Puddephatt in - charge of the car, entered. It was turned ten o’clock. He felt fairly - certain that Raphael Craig had not left Queen’s Farm, but he wanted to - convince himself that the bank manager was not always so impeccably prompt - at business as some people said. - </p> - <p> - ‘I wish to see Mr. Craig,’ he said, just as he had said two hours before - to Mrs. Bridget. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig,’ said the clerk, ‘is at present taking his annual holiday. He - will return to business in a fortnight’s time.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard returned to the car curiously annoyed, with a sense of being - baffled. His thoughts ran back to Teresa. Thirty miles of Watling Street - now separated them, yet her image was more strenuously before him than it - had been at any time since she fainted in the silver-heaped stable on - Saturday night. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ he said to himself positively, ‘I’ll call on Lord Dolmer at once, - and tell him I won’t have anything further to do with the affair.’ - </p> - <p> - He dropped Mr. Puddephatt, whose society, he felt, was perhaps growing - rather tedious to him, at Oxford Circus, and directed him to an omnibus - for the Elephant and Castle. - </p> - <p> - ‘My address is 4, Adelphi Terrace, in case you need a friend in London at - any time,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Good-day to ye, sir,’ said Mr. Puddephatt, ‘and thank ye kindly. Shall we - be seeing you again at Hockliffe soon?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ said Richard shortly. ‘I am not likely ever to come to Hockliffe. My - business there is absolutely concluded.’ - </p> - <p> - They shook hands, full of goodwill. As Mr. Puddephatt’s burly and rustic - form faded away into the crowd Richard watched it, and thought how - strange, and, indeed, pathetic, it was that two human beings should - casually meet, become in a measure intimate, and then part for evermore, - lost to each other in the mazy wilderness of an immense civilization. - </p> - <p> - He drove the car to Holborn Viaduct, deposited it on the Williamson - Company’s premises, and then took a bus for Piccadilly. As he did so it - began to rain, at first gently, then with a more determined steadiness: a - spell of fine weather which had lasted for several weeks was at last - broken. - </p> - <p> - In less than half an hour he was at Lord Dolmer’s door in Half-Moon - Street. - </p> - <p> - This nobleman, as has been stated, was comparatively a poor man. Emphasis - must now be laid on that word ‘comparatively.’ The baron had a thousand a - year of his own in stocks, and a small property in Yorkshire which brought - in a trifle less than nothing a year, after all the outgoings were paid. - His appointments in the City yielded him fifteen hundred a year. So that - his net income was a trifle less than two thousand five hundred pounds per - annum. He was thus removed from the fear of absolute starvation. The - peerage was not an ancient one—Lord Dolmer was only the second baron—but - the blood was aristocratic; it had run in the veins of generations of men - who knew how to live and how to enjoy themselves. Lord Dolmer had - discreetly remained a bachelor, and, in the common phrase, ‘he did himself - uncommonly well.’ He had a suite of finely-furnished rooms in Half-Moon - Street, and his domestic staff there consisted of a valet, who was also - butler and confidential factotum; a boy, who fulfilled the functions of a - ‘tiger,’ and employed his leisure hours in not cleaning knives and boots; - a housekeeper, who wore black silk and guarded the secret of her age; and - two women servants. It was the valet who answered to Richard’s masterful - ring; the valet’s name was Simpkin. - </p> - <p> - ‘Lord Dolmer at home?’ asked Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, sir,’ said Simpkin amicably; ‘his lord-ship is at breakfast.’ - </p> - <p> - It was just upon eleven o’clock. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’ll tell him you’re here, sir,’ said Simpkin. - </p> - <p> - In another moment Richard was greeting the second Baron Dolmer in the - dining-room, a stylish little apartment trimmed with oak. Lord Dolmer - breakfasted in the Continental fashion, taking coffee at eight, and - déjeuner about eleven. He had the habit of smoking during a meal, and the - border of his plate, which held the remains of a kidney, showed a couple - of cigarette-ends. He gave Richard a cigarette from his gold case, and - Simpkin supplemented this hospitality with a glass of adorable and unique - sherry. - </p> - <p> - ‘We will deprive ourselves of your presence, Simpkin,’ said Lord Dolmer, - who, a very simple and good-natured man at heart, had nevertheless these - little affectations. - </p> - <p> - ‘Certainly, sir,’ said the privileged Simpkin, who liked to hear his - master use these extraordinary phrases. - </p> - <p> - ‘And now, Redgrave, what is it? You pride yourself, I know, on your - inscrutable features, but I perceive that there is something up.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Well,’ said Richard, ‘it’s about that Craig affair. I thought I’d just - call and tell you privately that I can’t do anything. I should like, if - you and Mr. Lock don’t object, to retire from it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Singular!’ exclaimed Lord Dolmer mildly—, ‘highly singular! Tell me - the details, my friend.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard, rather to his own surprise, began to tell the story, omitting, - however, all reference to Micky, the detective. - </p> - <p> - ‘And do you believe Mr. Raphael Craig’s tale?’ asked Lord Dolmer. ‘It - seems to me scarcely to fit in with some of the facts which you have - related.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard took breath. - </p> - <p> - ‘No, I don’t,’ he said plumply. - </p> - <p> - ‘And yet you prefer to go no further?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And yet I prefer to go no further.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And this Teresa, who frequents circuses and chalk-pits, and faints at - midnight—what sort of a girl is she?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Miss Craig is a very beautiful woman,’ said Richard stiffly. - </p> - <p> - He tried hard to speak in a natural tone of voice, but failed. - </p> - <p> - ‘She has bewitched you, Redgrave,’ said Lord Dolmer. ‘It is a clear case. - She has bewitched you. This won’t do at all—my unimpressionable - Redgrave knocked over by a country girl of nineteen or so!’ - </p> - <p> - He rubbed his hands together, and then lighted another cigarette. - </p> - <p> - Richard pulled himself together, and replied, smiling: - </p> - <p> - ‘Not at all.... But really, Lord Dolmer, I want to throw the thing up. So - far from Miss Craig having bewitched me, I shall, in all probability, - never see her again.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I see—a heroic sacrifice! Well, I will tell Mr. Simon Lock... what - shall I tell him?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Tell him I have discovered nothing definite, and own myself beaten as - regards finding out the true origin of Raphael Craig’s eccentricities. But - tell him, also, that I am convinced that Raphael Craig is nothing worse - than eccentric.’ Richard paused, and repeated: ‘Yes, nothing worse than - eccentric.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No, Redgrave, I won’t tell him that you are convinced of that.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And why not?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Because, forgive me, I am convinced that you are not convinced of it.’ - </p> - <p> - There was an interval of silence, during which two spirals of smoke - ascended gracefully to the panelled ceiling of Lord Dolmer’s diningroom. - </p> - <p> - ‘Perhaps I am not,’ Richard answered calmly. ‘Tell Simon Lock what you - like, then, only make it plain that I retire. I ask no fee, since I have - earned none. I wash my hands of the whole business. I am within my rights - in so doing.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Certainly you are within your rights,’ said Lord Dolmer. ‘And d’you know, - Redgrave, I am rather glad that you are retiring from the case.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Why?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘If I tell you my reason you will regard it as strictly confidential?’ - </p> - <p> - Richard assented. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is this: Mr. Simon Lock has a mysterious animus against Raphael Craig; - what the cause of that animus is neither I nor any of the other directors - can guess, but it exists. (Remember, all this is between friends.) It is - Mr. Lock who has forced on this secret inquiry. The other directors were - against a proceeding which is rather underhand and contrary to the best - traditions of the bank. But Mr. Simon Lock had his way.’ Here Lord Dolmer - lighted another cigarette and resumed. ‘I ask you, Why should the bank - interfere? A bank manager has a perfect right to live where he likes, and, - outside office hours, to do what he likes, so long as he obeys the laws of - the country and the laws of respectability. Mr. Lock laid stress on the - fact that Raphael Craig had been fined for furious motor-car driving. But - what of that? It is a misfortune which may overtake the wisest of us. You, - my dear Redgrave, well know that even I have several times only narrowly - escaped the same ignominious fate. The fact is—and I tell you this - candidly—there is something between Mr. Simon Lock and Raphael - Craig. When Mr. Lock joined the Board one of his first actions was to - suggest that Craig should be asked to resign—why, no one knows. - Craig is one of the most able bank managers in London. He would long since - have been promoted to a superior post but for Mr. Simon Lock’s consistent - opposition. For these reasons, as I say, I am glad that you have retired - from the case. For anything I know Raphael Craig may be one of the biggest - scoundrels at large. I don’t care. The point is that he has not been - fairly treated by us—that is to say, by Simon Lock. I have the - honour to be an Englishman, and fair play is my creed.’ His lordship was - silent for a space, and then he said, by way of finale, ‘Of course, I rely - absolutely upon your discretion, Redgrave.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard nodded. - </p> - <p> - ‘What you say is very interesting,’ he remarked. ‘It is conceivable, then, - that Mr. Lock, not to be daunted by my defection, may insist on employing - another private detective?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Quite conceivable,’ Lord Dolmer admitted. - </p> - <p> - ‘In that case,’ Richard began, and then stopped. - </p> - <p> - ‘What?’ asked Lord Dolmer. - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh, nothing!’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - Lord Dolmer smiled, and, still smiling, said: - </p> - <p> - ‘One word of advice, my friend: forget her.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Why?’ Richard questioned absently, and bit his lip. - </p> - <p> - ‘Forget her,’ repeated the Baron. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER IX—A VISIT - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ell, he - determined, with the ferocious resoluteness of a dogged soul, to follow - Lord Dolmer’s advice. He said to himself that there ought to be no special - difficulty in doing so, since only three days had passed since he first - saw this creature whom he was enjoined to forget. He walked slowly along - Piccadilly, down Regent Street, and through Trafalgar Square to his little - office in Adelphi Terrace. Some trifling business awaited him there, and - this occupied him till the hour of luncheon. He then went out and lunched, - as his custom was, at Gatti’s. - </p> - <p> - Richard’s usual mode of life was extremely simple. His office, a single - small room, was on the third-floor of No. 4, Adelphi Terrace. On the - fourth-floor he had a bedroom, rather larger than the office, and quite - commodious enough for the uses of a young bachelor who had no fancy - tastes. When occasion needed he used the office as a sitting-room. All his - meals he took out of doors. His breakfasts, which cost him fourpence, he - consumed at a vegetarian restaurant hard by; his luncheons and dinners - were eaten at Gatti’s. Frequently at the latter establishment he would be - content with a dish of macaroni and half a pint of bitter, at an - expenditure of eightpence—a satisfying repast. His total expenses - were thus very small, and hence, although his income was irregular and - fluctuating, he nevertheless continually saved money. It was seldom that - less than one hundred pounds stood between him and the workhouse. In case - of necessity he could have lived for a whole year, or even two years, on - one hundred pounds. So he was always in an independent position. He could - always afford not to bend the knee to any employer or client. He was, in - fact, just what he looked, a shrewd and confident man, successful and well - dressed, who knew how to take care of himself. He spent more on his - wardrobe than on anything else, and this, not because he was a coxcomb, - but from purely commercial motives. He accepted the world as he found the - world, and he had learnt that clothes counted. - </p> - <p> - All afternoon he did nothing but idle about in his office, wondering - whether by that time Lord Dolmer had told Simon Lock of the barren result - of his inquiries, and wondering also what the upshot of their interview - would be. At seven he dined at Gatti’s. At eight he returned to Adelphi - Terrace, and ascended directly to his bedroom. Opening the window wide, he - placed an easy-chair in front of it, lighted a pipe, and sat down to - perpend upon things in general. - </p> - <p> - Richard had chosen this bedroom because of its view. It looked out at an - angle on the river Thames, stateliest and most romantic of busy streams. - It is doubtful if any capital in Europe, unless it be Buda-Pesth, the twin - city on the blue Danube, can show a scene equal in beauty to the Thames - Embankment and the Thames when the hues and mysteries of sunset are upon - them. This particular evening was more than commonly splendid, for after a - day of heavy rain the clouds had retreated, and the sun burst out in - richest radiance. The red jury-sails of the barges as they floated - up-stream with the flowing tide took on the tints of the ruby. The vast - masonry of Waterloo Bridge and of Somerset House seemed like gigantic and - strange temples uncannily suspended over the surface of the glooming - water. In the west Westminster Bridge and the Houses of Parliament stood - silhouetted in profound black against the occidental sky. The sky was like - Joseph’s coat there, but in the east it was like a maiden’s scarf. - </p> - <p> - Up from the Embankment rose the hum and roar and rattle of London’s - ceaseless traffic. The hansoms had lighted their starry lamps, and they - flitted below like fireflies in the shadows of a wood. No stranger could - have guessed that they were mere hackney vehicles plying at the fixed rate - of two miles for one shilling, and sixpence for every subsequent mile or - part of a mile. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ Richard mused, ‘this is all very well, and I am enjoying it, and - nothing could be very much better; but the fact remains that I haven’t - earned a cent this blessed day. The fact also remains that I am a bit of a - frost. Further, and thirdly, the fact remains that the present state of - affairs must be immediately altered.’ - </p> - <p> - His pipe went out. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’ll look in at the Empire,’ he said. - </p> - <p> - Now, by what process of reasoning a young man who, on his own confession, - had drawn a blank day could arrive at the conclusion that the proper thing - to do was to go to the Empire we cannot explain. But so it was. He looked - at his watch. The hour was nine-fifteen. Half an hour yet, for no - self-respecting man-about-town ever thinks of entering the Empire before a - quarter to ten! At this point Richard probably fell into a doze. At any - rate, a knock on his bedroom-door had to be repeated several times before - it attracted his attention. - </p> - <p> - ‘What is it?’ he answered at length. - </p> - <p> - ‘A person to see you, sir,’ said a feminine voice, not without asperity. - </p> - <p> - ‘A person to see me! Oh! ah! er!... Show him into the office. I’ll be down - directly.’ - </p> - <p> - He descended to the third-floor, and, instead of the Somerset House - acquaintance whom he had expected, he found the very last person that by - all the laws of chance ought to have been in his office—he found - Mrs. Bridget. - </p> - <p> - Mrs. Bridget turned round and faced him as he went into the little - paper-strewn room. She was dressed in black alpaca, with a - curiously-shaped flat black bonnet. Her hands, which were decently covered - with black gloves, she held folded in front of her. - </p> - <p> - Richard said nothing at first. He was too astounded, and—shall we - say?—pleased. He scented what the reporters call ‘further - revelations’ of an interesting nature. - </p> - <p> - ‘Good-avenin’,’ said Bridget; ‘and can ye see a lady privately?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Certainly,’ said Richard, ‘I can see you privately; but,’ he added, with - a mischievous smile, ‘I’m afraid our interview won’t amount to much unless - you’re more communicative than you were this morning.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Bless and save ye, sir! ’tis not meself that wants ye—’tis - her.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Her?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The misthress sent me up to find out whisht whether ye could be seen.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Miss Craig is outside?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The same, sir. Ye’ll see her?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘See her? Naturally I will see her. But—but—how did you - discover my address?’ - </p> - <p> - By this time they were hurrying down the multitudinous steps to the - ground-floor. - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure, we called at the Williamson Company, and they said you’d left and - they didn’t know your address. And then we came out, and who should we see - but Mr. Puddephatt leading a pony. ’Twas the Virgin’s own miracle! - “Hullo!” he says, lifting his hat. - </p> - <p> - “Puddephatt,” says my mistress——’ - </p> - <p> - The recital was never finished, for at that moment they reached the - front-door. In the roadway stood the Décauville motor with lights - gleaming. By the side of the Décauville stood Teresa Craig enveloped in a - gray mackintosh. - </p> - <p> - Richard’s face showed his intense pleasure at the most unlooked-for - encounter. - </p> - <p> - ‘Miss Craig,’ he said eagerly, ‘I hope you are in no trouble. Can I be of - any assistance?’ - </p> - <p> - She glanced at him coldly, inimically. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she replied with bitterness, and then looked about—the - little street was deserted—‘I have come to seek an explanation from - you. If you are an honourable man you will give it. And I have come, much - against my inclination, to ask a favour. Bridget, take care of the motor.’ - </p> - <p> - She swept imperially before him into the portals of the house. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ said Teresa, in a tone which clearly indicated that she - meant to lead the conversation, ‘we have not seen each other since I was - so foolish as to faint in the—the shed.’ - </p> - <p> - They sat together in Richard’s little office. It was not without - difficulty that he had induced her even to sit down. Her demeanour was - hostile. Her fine, imperious face had a stormy and implacable look—a - look almost resentful, and Richard felt something of a culprit before that - gaze. He met her eyes, however, with such bravery as he could muster. - </p> - <p> - ‘Not since then,’ he assented. ‘I trust you are fully recovered, Miss - Craig.’ - </p> - <p> - Ignoring the utterance of this polite hope, she resumed: - </p> - <p> - ‘I have to thank you for the service you rendered on Saturday night.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It was nothing,’ he said, in a voice as cold and formal as her own. - </p> - <p> - ‘It was everything,’ she corrected him gravely. ‘I might have lost my life - but for you.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I am happy to have been of any assistance,’ he said. But his thoughts - ran: ‘She hasn’t come to London to tell me this. What the deuce, then, has - she come for?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Bridget tells me you had an interview with my father that night. May I - ask what passed?’ Teresa continued. - </p> - <p> - ‘You have not seen your father since then?’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘I have not.’ Her voice seemed momentarily to break. - </p> - <p> - ‘Or doubtless he would have told you?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Doubtless.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard determined to try a bold stroke. - </p> - <p> - ‘I understood from Mr. Craig that he wished our interview to be strictly - confidential.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What?’ she cried. ‘From me? From his daughter?’ - </p> - <p> - She stood up, suddenly angry. - </p> - <p> - ‘If, indeed, you are his daughter,’ said Richard quietly. - </p> - <p> - Her eyes blazed, and her hands shook; but she collected herself, and - smiled bitterly: - </p> - <p> - ‘You, then, have heard that silly rumour?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘By chance I heard it,’ he admitted. - </p> - <p> - ‘And you believe it?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I neither believe it nor disbelieve it. What has it to do with me?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Exactly,’ she said; ‘a very proper question. What has it to do with you? - Listen, Mr. Redgrave. I have the most serious reasons for asking you to - tell me what passed between yourself and my father on Saturday night.’ - </p> - <p> - A look of feminine appeal passed swiftly across her features. Fleeting as - it was, it sufficed to conquer Richard. A minute ago he had meant to - dominate her. Now he was dominated. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will tell you,’ he said simply, and told her—told her everthing - without any reservation. - </p> - <p> - ‘Then my father did not accuse you of being a professional spy?’ she - demanded when Richard had finished. - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ said Richard, somewhat abashed. - </p> - <p> - ‘He did not accuse you of having entered our house under entirely false - pretences?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ said Richard, still more abashed. - </p> - <p> - There was a silence. - </p> - <p> - ‘I wonder,’ she said calmly, glancing out of the window, ‘I wonder why he - did not.’ - </p> - <p> - She made the remark as though she were speculating privately upon a - curious but not very important point. - </p> - <p> - ‘Miss Craig!’ he exclaimed, with an air of being affronted. - </p> - <p> - I read in a famous book the other day,’ she went on, ‘these words: “A - murderer is less loathsome to us than a spy. The murderer may have acted - on a sudden mad impulse; he may be penitent and amend; but a spy is always - a spy, night and day, in bed, at table, as he walks abroad; his vileness - pervades every moment of his life.”’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Do you mean to insinuate,’ said Richard, forced to defend himself, ‘that - I am a professional spy?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I not only mean to insinuate it, I mean to assert it,’ she announced - loftily, and then continued more quickly: ‘Mr. Redgrave, why did you come - to spy on us? For two whole days I trusted you, and I liked you. But that - night, as soon as I saw you behind me in the shed, the truth burst upon - me. It was that, more than anything else, that caused me to faint. Why did - you do it, Mr. Redgrave? My father liked you; I—I—I——’ - She stopped for a moment. ‘Surely a man of your talents could have found a - profession more honourable than that of a spy?’ - </p> - <p> - She looked at him, less angry than reproachful. - </p> - <p> - ‘I am a private detective,’ said Richard sullenly, ‘not a spy. My business - is perfectly respectable.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Why trouble to play with words?’ she exclaimed impatiently. ‘We took you - for a gentleman. In our simplicity we took you for a gentleman.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Which I trust I am,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Prove it!’ she cried. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will prove it in any manner you choose.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I accept your promise,’ she said. ‘I have travelled up to London to make - an appeal to you to abandon this inquiry which you have undertaken—at - whose instance I know not.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I cannot abandon it now,’ he said mischievously. - </p> - <p> - ‘Why?’ she queried. - </p> - <p> - ‘Question for question,’ he retorted. ‘How did you discover that I was a - professional spy, as you call it?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Bah!’ she replied. ‘Simply by asking. When I got your address, the rest - was easy. So you decline to be a gentleman in the manner that I suggest? I - might have anticipated as much. I might have known that I was coming to - London on a fool’s errand. And yet something in your face hinted to me - that perhaps after all——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Miss Craig,’ he said earnestly, ‘I cannot, abandon the inquiry now, - because I have already abandoned it. I came down to London this morning - with the intention of doing nothing more in the matter, and by noon to-day - I had informed my clients to that effect.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I was not, then, mistaken in you,’ she murmured. - </p> - <p> - To his intense astonishment there was the tremor of a sob in that proud - voice. - </p> - <p> - ‘Not entirely mistaken,’ he said, with a faint smile. - </p> - <p> - ‘What induced you to give up the business of spying upon us?’ she asked, - looking at him. - </p> - <p> - ‘How can I tell?’ he answered; ‘conscience, perhaps, though a private - detective is not supposed to possess such a thing. Perhaps I did it - because I reciprocated your sentinents towards me, Miss Craig.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘My sentiments towards you?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ he said audaciously. ‘You said just how that you liked me.’ - </p> - <p> - Instead of taking offence, she positively smiled. She had the courage of a - guileless heart. - </p> - <p> - ‘And let me tell you, Miss Craig,’ he went on, and his earnestness became - passionate, ‘that I will do anything that lies in my power to serve you. I - don’t care what it is. I don’t care what trouble you are in; count on me.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How do you know that I am in trouble?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I don’t know,’ he said; ‘I merely feel it Miss Craig, let me help you.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You don’t know what you are saying,’ she replied evasively. - </p> - <p> - He jumped up and seized her hand, the small hand, browned by summer - sunshine. - </p> - <p> - ‘Let me help you,’ he repeated. - </p> - <p> - ‘If you knew,’ she said, hiding her face, ‘what trouble I am in!’ - </p> - <p> - He saw that she was crying. She drew away her hand impulsively. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will help you!’ he exclaimed; ‘the spy the scorned spy, insists on - helping you. No, tell me.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘I came to London to entreat your silence and - inaction. I went about the affair in a strange and silly way, but it - happens that I have succeeded. You have promised to do nothing further. - That suffices Let me go.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You shall not go,’ he almost shouted; ‘I tell you you shall not go until - you have confided in me. I owe you some reparation, and I positively - insist on giving it.’ - </p> - <p> - She raised her face and gazed at him. - </p> - <p> - ‘I am the child of all misfortune,’ she said ‘as my country is the most - unfortunate of countries. Mr. Redgrave, my father has disappeared.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh!’ he said, as if to say, ‘Is that all?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And I dare not search for him.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘They told me at the bank that he had gone on his annual holiday.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then you inquired at the bank?’ she asked swiftly. - </p> - <p> - ‘It was my last act of spying,’ he said. ‘Why dare you not search for your - father, Miss Craig?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Because—because I might find more than I wished to find.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You talk in riddles,’ he said firmly. ‘We can do nothing here; let us go - back to Hockiffe. - </p> - <p> - I will accompany you, and on the way you shall answer my questions. I have - many to put to you. Leave everything to me; imagine that I am your - brother. I have often laughed at the man’s phrase to a woman, “I would lay - down my life for you,” but at this moment I feel what it means. Do not - mistake me; do not think I am talking wildly. Perhaps I have a better idea - of your trouble than you think. But, in any case, you must trust me as you - trusted me when first you saw me. You must rely on me. Come, let us go.’ - </p> - <p> - She rose and moved towards the door, ‘Thanks,’ she said, nothing more than - that—‘thanks.’ - </p> - <p> - In one part of his mind Richard wondered at himself, in another he felt - curiously and profoundly happy. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER X—MONEY-MAKING - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey passed - northwards through the night of London in the Décauville car, Richard and - Teresa side by side on the front seats, old Mrs. Bridget in her black - alpaca behind, up Regent Street, along Oxford Street, up the interminable - Edgware Road, through Kilburn, and so on to Edgware and the open road and - country. - </p> - <p> - ‘Bridget knows all my secrets, Mr. Redgrave,’ said Teresa. ‘Moreover, she - has no ears unless I wish it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure, miss,’ said Bridget, ‘more gets into my head than goes out. ’Tis - for all the world like a Jew’s pocket.’ - </p> - <p> - This fragment of conversation was caused by Richard’s sudden stoppage in - the middle or a remark about Micky, who, Teresa told him, had disappeared - concurrently with her father. - </p> - <p> - ‘What were you going to say about Micky?’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘I was going to say,’ Richard answered, ‘that things are not what they - seem.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You mean that Micky, too, was a——’ - </p> - <p> - She hesitated. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, like me, only rather more professional.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Bridget told me this morning that she had heard poor father and Micky at - high words in the middle of last night. After that she says there was a - silence for a long time, and then father called her up and gave her the - message for you.’ - </p> - <p> - The sentences were spoken without hesitation, and yet in a strangely - unnatural voice. - </p> - <p> - ‘You’re forgetting one little thing, miss.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Hush, Bridget!’ Teresa exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - ‘If I am to help you I must be in possession of the facts.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Tell him, miss; tell the gintleman, do. The gintleman is a gintleman.’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa sat up straight in the speeding car. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you must - know. There was a revolver-shot. Bridget says she heard the sound of a - revolver-shot. Oh, Mr. Redgrave! what does it mean? I dared not tell you - of that before. If my father——’ - </p> - <p> - She ceased. - </p> - <p> - ‘Micky has left no trace behind?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘None.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Where did the sound of the shot come from?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure, from the drawing-room, where the master always kept his - pistol-thing in the clock-case. Master and the scoundrel Micky were - talking in there.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Suppose,’ suggested Richard, ‘that it was Micky who had a revolver.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then he missed his aim,’ said Bridget, ‘for the master came to me - afterwards on the upper landing as sound as a bell.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Did he seem agitated?’ Richard asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘Not he! Why should a gintleman seem agitated because he has shot a - scoundrel?’ - </p> - <p> - Bridget appeared to glory in the idea that Raphael Craig might indeed have - shot the Scotland Yard detective. - </p> - <p> - ‘And since then you have seen nothing of either your father or Micky?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Nothing whatever,’ said Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘And you have no notion where they are?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘None; at least—no—none.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I observed this morning,’ said Richard quietly, ‘that the new electric - car was not in the shed.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure, and the master must have ridden off on it with the corpse——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Bridget, silence!’ said Teresa imperatively. - </p> - <p> - Richard had an uncanny vision of Raphael Craig flying from justice on the - electric car, with the corpse of a murdered detective hidden somewhere - behind. The vision struck him, though, as amusing. He could not believe in - the possibility of such a deed on the part of Raphael Craig. Yet he could - see that Bridget’s doubtless fanciful and highly-coloured report of what - had passed in the night had so worked on Teresa’s brain, already disturbed - by sinister events. He could understand now why she had so incontinently - flown to London, in the wild hope of stopping all further inquiries into - her father’s proceedings. - </p> - <p> - The car climbed over the hill on which stands the town of St. Albans, and - then slipped easily down towards Redbourne and the twelve miles of lonely - and straight Watling Street that separates St. Albans from Dunstable. On - this interminable and monotonous stretch of road there are only two - villages; mile succeeds mile with a sort of dogged persistency, and the - nocturnal traveller becomes, as it were, hypnotized by the ribbon-like - highway that stretches eternally in front of him and behind him. It was - fortunate that the car ran well. Dunstable was reached in forty minutes - after leaving St. Albans, and then as they passed into the mysterious - cutting—resembling a Welsh mountain pass—to the north of the - ancient borough, the thoughts of all flew forward to the empty farmhouse - which Teresa and her attendant had left in the morning. As soon as you - emerge from the cutting you can, in daylight, see Queen’s Farm quite - plainly on the opposite slope of the valley, two miles away. But at night, - of course, you can see nothing of the house of Mr. Raphael Craig unless it - is lighted up. - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure, the master’s returned!’ old Mrs. Bridget exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - A light faintly twinkled from the direction of Queen’s Farm. - </p> - <p> - This simple phenomenon produced its effect on both Teresa and Richard. The - old man had come back, and one mystery, therefore, would at length be - solved—provided that the old man chose to open his mouth! The idea - of thus approaching a revelation somehow impressed Raphael Craig’s - daughter and her companion with a sense of awe, a sense almost of fear. - They were secretly afraid lest they might encounter something which it - would have been better not to encounter. Each in fancy pictured Raphael - Craig alone in the house engaged in a strange business. Each silently - asked the question, ‘Where is Micky?’ and answered it with a vague and - terrible surmise. The feeling that Raphael Craig was responsible for the - disappearance of Micky grew on Richard especially. At first he had scouted - it, but he gradually persuaded himself that a man like Raphael Craig was - capable of most things, even to disposing of a detective. If Raphael Craig - had indeed any criminal secret to hide, and he found out that Micky, a - Scotland Yard detective, was prying into the secret, Richard guessed that - the fate of Micky might hazardously tremble in the balance. - </p> - <p> - And another aspect of the affair troubled Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘If your father has returned,’ he said to Teresa, ‘how shall I explain my - presence, or, rather, how will you explain it? It seems to me that I - scarcely know myself why I am here with you on this car. I came on the - assumption that your father was gone. His presence would make me a rather - unnecessary item, wouldn’t it?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Who can tell?’ Teresa murmured absently; and Richard was rather chagrined - at this peculiar reply. - </p> - <p> - The car was now down in the lowest part of the valley, and the house for - the moment out of sight. When, as the car breasted the hill, the summit of - the slope reappeared to the view, there was no light in Queen’s Farm; the - twinkling illumination was extinguished. Only the plain outline of the - house stood faintly visible under the waning moon. - </p> - <p> - ‘Perhaps father has gone to bed,’ said Teresa, with a desperate - affectation of lightness. ‘I wonder what he would think when he found the - house empty.’ - </p> - <p> - Bridget emitted a weird sound which was between a moan and a groan. - </p> - <p> - ‘Happen ’twas a fairy light we saw,’ she said, the deep instincts - of Celtic superstition always rising thus at the slightest invitation. - </p> - <p> - The car at length turned into the boreen, and so reached the house. The - gate was opened, and Richard dexterously twisted the car into the drive. - The house—gaunt, bare, sinister—showed no sign whatever of - life. - </p> - <p> - The three occupants of the car descended, and stood for a second within - the porch. - </p> - <p> - ‘The latch-key, Bridget,’ said Teresa curtly. Bridget produced the - latch-key, but on putting it into the keyhole Teresa discovered that the - door was already unfastened. A push, and it swung backwards, revealing the - gloom of the hall. - </p> - <p> - ‘Shall I go first?’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘If you please,’ Teresa replied eagerly, and Richard stepped within. The - women followed. - </p> - <p> - He struck a match, which revealed a low bookcase to the left, and on this - a candle. He lighted the candle. - </p> - <p> - ‘Stay here,’ he said, ‘and I will search the house.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure,’ said Bridget, ‘we’ll stand or fall together. Where you go, me and - the mistress go too.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard could not avoid a smile. Together, then, they searched the house - from roof to cellar, and found—nothing at all. Apparently not a - single thing had been displaced or touched. What could have been the - origin of the light which they had seen? Had Mr. Craig returned only to - depart again? They stood in the hall asking these questions, which they - were unable to answer. Bridget, however, assured that there was nothing of - an unusual nature within the house, recovered her wits, and set to work to - light lamps in the hall, drawing-room, and kitchen. Richard and Teresa - were alone together in the hall. Richard, glancing idly round, stooped - down and picked from the floor a gold-handled riding-whip which lay almost - under the bookcase. It was a lady’s whip. - </p> - <p> - ‘A pretty whip,’ he remarked. ‘Yours, I suppose?’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa went very white. - </p> - <p> - ‘It isn’t mine,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen it before. I——’ - </p> - <p> - At that very moment there was the sound of hoofs on the gravel of the - drive. Richard started for the door, but Teresa clutched him and held him - back with an action almost mechanical. Her eyes showed apprehension, - mingled with another feeling which Richard almost thought was joy. The - hoofs came up the drive and stopped in front of the door, still ajar. The - two within the house could just discern the legs of a horse and the skirt - of a riding-habit. The rider jumped down, and then cautiously pushed - against the door. - </p> - <p> - ‘Juana!’ cried Teresa, and rushed into the arms of the newcomer. - </p> - <p> - Richard at once recognised the equestrian of Bosco’s circus—tall, - dark, Spanish, alluring, mysterious. - </p> - <p> - The two girls exchanged a passionate kiss, and then stood apart and gazed - at each other, Richard discreetly stopped outside and held the horse’s - bridle. In this animal he recognised the strawberry-roan mare, also of - Bosco’s circus. In a moment the two girls came out on to the porch. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ said Teresa, ‘let me introduce you to my sister. She had - called here before, and, finding no one, had left. She came back for her - whip. Juana, I am in great trouble. Mr. Redgrave has very kindly come to - my assistance.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard bowed. - </p> - <p> - ‘Come into the drawing-room,’ said Teresa, ‘You can tie the mare up to - this tree, Juana. - </p> - <p> - ‘I expect she won’t mind the car.’ - </p> - <p> - When they were all seated in the drawing-room Richard immediately - perceived that the two girls meant, at any rate partially, to make a - confidant of him. They talked quite openly before him. - </p> - <p> - ‘Suppose father should come in?’ said the circus-girl. - </p> - <p> - ‘You must hide,’ said Teresa positively, and, turning to Richard, she went - on: ‘Mr. Redgrave, my father has not seen my sister for many months, and - there are reasons why he should not see her now. You will understand——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Perfectly,’ assented Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘On the whole,’ said Juana, ‘I am quite prepared to see my—father.’ - </p> - <p> - The door of the drawing-room burst open, and Bridget’s head appeared. - </p> - <p> - ‘Miss Teresa, there’s someone in the sheds,’ she cried. ‘I heard a noise - like that of the Banshee of MacGillicuddy. Eh! Miss Juana, and is it - yesilf I see?’ - </p> - <p> - At sight of the circus-girl Bridget wept, but she did not leave the - vicinity of the door. - </p> - <p> - ‘Turn out every light,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - No sooner had he said the word than he leapt up and extinguished the lamp - which hung from the middle of the ceiling. - </p> - <p> - ‘Run, Mrs. Bridget,’ he commanded, ‘and put out the others.’ - </p> - <p> - Bridget departed. - </p> - <p> - The other three went out into the porch, and at Richard’s suggestion Juana - led her mare away behind the house. They were obliged to leave the car - where it stood, since it was impossible to move it without noise. - </p> - <p> - The house was now in darkness. Bridget had joined the rest in the porch. - They stood braced, tense, silent, waiting—waiting for they knew not - what. - </p> - <p> - Presently was heard the ‘birr’ of the electric motor-car from the - direction of the outbuildings, and then the vehicle flashed down the - boreen at fifteen or twenty miles an hour. Owing partly to the darkness - and partly to the height of the glazed ‘cab’ of the machine, a contrivance - designed by Mr. Craig himself, the driver of the car could not be - recognised, but both Richard and Teresa thought that it could be no other - than Raphael Craig, and, further, that he was alone. Just as the car - passed Juana’s mare whinnied, and there was an answering whinny from the - orchard field where, as it afterwards appeared, Mr. Craig’s two mares had - been turned out to grass. But the car showed no inclination to halt. - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure, the master will be after taking it away!’ Bridget exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - ‘Taking what away, Bridget?’ Juana asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘Micky’s cor——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Silence, Bridget, you foolish creature!’ Teresa stopped her. ‘If you - can’t talk sense you must go and sit in the kitchen alone.’ - </p> - <p> - This threat resulted in a very complete silence on the part of Bridget. - </p> - <p> - The car turned southwards down Watling Street. - </p> - <p> - ‘He is going to the chalk-pit,’ said Richard quietly. - </p> - <p> - ‘Perhaps we had better follow discreetly and see what happens,’ said - Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘I was about to suggest that,’ said Richard; ‘but we ought not all to go.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And why not, Mr. Redgrave?’ Bridget demanded, in alarm at the prospect of - being left. - </p> - <p> - ‘Because—well, because we had better not,’ said Richard. ‘Four will - make too heavy a load for this car.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Juana,’ said Teresa, ‘you will stay here with Bridget. Mr. Redgrave and - myself will reconnoitre, find out what we can, and return to you with as - little delay as possible.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Very well,’ said Juana, while old Bridget sighed a sad resignation. - </p> - <p> - In half a minute they had started and were following the car down the road - at a pace which would have been dangerous had not Watling Street been - deserted at one o’clock in the morning. The moon still shone, but her - light scarcely did more than disclose the sides of the road. The electric - car was too far ahead to be discerned. - </p> - <p> - ‘Miss Craig,’ said Richard, ‘your suspicions of what may have happened are - obviously more serious than you care to admit. We do not know the nature - of the adventure upon which we have embarked. Let me beg you to be frank - with me. So far as your knowledge goes, has Mr. Craig committed any act, - wittingly or unwittingly, which might bring him within the meshes of the - law?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Do you mean, do I know whether he has killed Micky, the detective?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ said Richard sharply; ‘I mean no such thing. Go back earlier than - the last few days. Go back a few years, and consider. Mr. Craig told me - last night that a relative had died and left him a hundred thousand pounds - in silver.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Teresa; ‘that was Great-uncle Andrew, the man who went to - Mexico and then turned “queer.” Father has often told me of him.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You believe that you once had a Great-uncle Andrew, who left all this - silver to your father?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Certainly. I remember father having all the papers and things to sign, - and him fetching the money in casks on his car.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Fetching it from where?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh, I don’t know. I forget. Some place near London.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What should you say if I told you that you never had a Great-uncle - Andrew, or that if there was such a person, he never left your father any - money?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But we went into mourning!’ said Teresa naïvely. - </p> - <p> - ‘Possibly,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Do you mean to say that poor father made it all up?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘With the greatest respect for your father, Miss Craig, I suspect that - that was the case. I do not know for certain, but I suspect. Have you, - too, not had suspicions? Answer that candidly.’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa hesitated. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But I swear to you that I believed my - father.’ - </p> - <p> - The car went through the tiny village of Chalk Hill, and their talk was - suspended. - </p> - <p> - Further up the road they could see the open; gate which led by a broad - field-path to the chalk-pit, the path along which Richard had seen the - elephant dragging the other motor-car two evenings ago. Richard directed - the car gently through the gate and then stopped; they dismounted, and - crossed the great field on foot. - </p> - <p> - ‘If the matter of the silver was all fair and square,’ said Richard, ‘why - did your father deal with the coin so mysteriously? How did he excuse - himself to you when he asked your assistance?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘He didn’t excuse himself,’ said Teresa stiffly. - </p> - <p> - ‘I acted as he told me. I was his daughter. It was not my place to put - questions. Besides, I enjoyed the business. Remember, Mr. Redgrave, that I - am not a middle-aged woman.’ - </p> - <p> - As they got on to the highest part of the field they saw at the far end - the dim shape of the electric car. - </p> - <p> - They crept cautiously towards it, and saw no sign of Raphael Craig. At - length, avoiding the zigzag path that led down into the pit, they reached - the point where the chalk had been cut precipitously away. Still moving - with all possible discretion, Richard lay on his stomach and looked over. - Twenty-five feet below he saw Raphael Craig standing, apparently in an - attitude of triumph, over the prone form of Micky, otherwise Nolan, the - detective. A lantern held by Craig showed plainly the drawn and stiffened - features of the man from Scotland Yard. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0170.jpg" alt="0170 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0170.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Before Richard could prevent her, Teresa had also looked over. - </p> - <p> - ‘God!’ she cried softly. ‘Is my father a——’ - </p> - <p> - She stopped. The old man glanced mildly upwards. - </p> - <p> - Richard and Teresa with one accord ran along the edge of the pit, and then - down the zigzag path till they stood facing Raphael Craig, the prone body - of the detective between them. - </p> - <p> - ‘What is this?’ questioned the old man coldly, pushing back the gray hairs - from his forehead. ‘Spying again?’ - </p> - <p> - He looked intently at Richard. He seemed to ignore the silent form on the - ground. - </p> - <p> - ‘Father,’ cried Teresa, ‘if you have killed him, fly. Take the motor-car - and get away as far as you can and as fast as you can. Mr. Redgrave and I——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Killed him!’ Raphael Craig exclaimed. - </p> - <p> - ‘Why should I kill him? I found him lying here—here where I came to - seek him. He must have fallen over this miniature precipice.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘He isn’t dead,’ said Teresa eagerly; she had knelt beside the detective. - </p> - <p> - ‘I did not suppose that he was. But if he had been it would have been only - a just punishment.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Had we not better carry him to the house, sir?’ Richard suggested - quietly. - </p> - <p> - ‘As you wish,’ said Raphael. ‘It appears that you have taken charge of our - affairs.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Redgrave is here at my urgent request, father,’ said Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘You!’ Raphael gazed at her hard. ‘You! Shall I curse you as I cursed your - sister?’ - </p> - <p> - Nevertheless, he helped Richard to carry the body of the detective up the - path and into the field—a task of considerable difficulty. When they - reached the electric car they put the lifeless organism into the back part - of it. - </p> - <p> - ‘Take him,’ said Mr. Craig to Richard succinctly—‘take him off.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And you?’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will follow.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard and Teresa got into the electric car and moved off down the field. - They spoke not a word. Arrived at the house, the detective was taken - upstairs and put into a bed by the three women. The lamps had been - relighted. The little man had regained consciousness, but he was too - feeble to give any utterance to his thoughts. He pointed weakly to his - head, whereon his nurses found a lump, but no other sign of injury. They - surmised that he was suffering from concussion of the brain, how caused - they could only guess. He drank a little brandy-and-water, and lay - extended on the bed as though unwilling almost to put himself to the - exertion of breathing. - </p> - <p> - The noise of the Décauville sounded outside. Teresa sprang to the window. - </p> - <p> - ‘Here is father, Juana,’ she said anxiously. ‘If he should come upstairs——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Go down and stop him from coming upstairs. Bridget and I will attend to - this poor fellow.’ - </p> - <p> - Her voice was charged with sympathy as she glanced at the sufferer on the - bed. The reference to himself caused the detective to open his eyes. - </p> - <p> - ‘I fell over the edge of the pit,’ he murmured faintly. ‘It was owing to - the short grass being so slippery after the rain.’ He had no Irish accent - now. - </p> - <p> - Then he closed his eyes again. - </p> - <p> - Teresa gave a sigh of relief as she left the room. Her father, then, was - not in thought a murderer. - </p> - <p> - As she entered the hall from the stairs - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig and Richard came in through the front-door. They had housed - the two cars. - </p> - <p> - ‘Where is he?’ asked Raphael of his daughter. - </p> - <p> - ‘In the back bedroom, father. He is not seriously hurt.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I will go up and have a look at him,’ said Raphael, actuated apparently - by mere idle curiosity. - </p> - <p> - ‘No, father, don’t!’ Teresa pleaded. ‘Bridget is looking after him, and I - believe he is just going to sleep.’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael gave a gesture of assent - </p> - <p> - ‘And now, sir,’ he said to Richard, opening the drawing-room door, ‘a word - with you.’ - </p> - <p> - The two men passed into the drawing-room. Raphael was closing the door - when Teresa stepped forward. - </p> - <p> - ‘I also have a word to say, father,’ she remarked firmly. - </p> - <p> - ‘Say it to me afterwards, then,’ he replied briefly. - </p> - <p> - ‘No. It is a word that must be said now.’ - </p> - <p> - The old man, smiling slightly and ironically, pulled the door open and - allowed his daughter to enter the room. - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig sat down on the Chesterfield sofa, but Richard and Teresa - remained standing, Richard, for his part, determined that there should be - no beating about the bush; and he had not the least intention of allowing - the old man to put him in the wrong by asking difficult questions. So he - began at once, fixing his eyes on a greenish-coloured newspaper that stuck - out of Mr. Craig’s right-hand pocket. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig,’ he said, ‘let me cut a long story short. I came up here a few - days ago to bring you a Williamson electric car. True, I was for the time - being a genuine employe of the Williamson Company, but that was not my - real business. I confess to you, Mr. Craig, that I am a private inquiry - agent. It was in my professional capacity that I visited your House.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Ah!’ said Mr. Craig. ‘You were, then, after all, a spy? I had guessed - correctly.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Spy?’ Richard repeated calmly. ‘Yes; it is an epithet that has been - applied to me before.’ He glanced at Teresa, who met his glance fairly. - ‘To continue,’ he said: ‘I have abandoned my inquiries. To be precise, I - gave up my mission this morning; therefore, since I am here again, I am - not here as a spy.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What led you to abandon your mission, Mr. Inquiry Agent?’ asked Raphael, - stroking his gray beard. - </p> - <p> - ‘I gave it up, Mr. Craig,’ said Richard plumply, ‘out of regard for your - daughter.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Indeed!’ Raphael remarked, with the frostiest politeness. ‘So my daughter - is fortunate enough to have won your regard?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘If you care to put it so.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘all this does not account for your presence here - to-night, Mr. Inquiry Agent.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I am here now——’ Richard began, and then stopped. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Redgrave is here now,’ Teresa said, at the same time seating herself, - ‘because I asked him to come.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘When did you ask him, girl?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I went to London in the Décauville to Mr. Redgrave’s office, and——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You went to London alone?’ - </p> - <p> - The old man sprang up thunderously, and the newspaper fell out of his - pocket. Richard quietly picked it up from the floor. It was that day’s <i>Westminster - Gazette</i>. - </p> - <p> - ‘Bridget went with me,’ said Teresa, quailing before her father’s - outburst. - </p> - <p> - It was evident from both their respective demeanours that Mr. Craig’s - temper was not one of absolute serenity. - </p> - <p> - ‘Bridget!’ sneered Raphael. ‘You went down to London to ask Mr. Redgrave - to come up to Hockliffe?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I went to ask him to abandon his inquiries.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But still, you brought him back with you?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘At one o’clock in the morning?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes. But, father——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Miss Craig was in a very awkward situation,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘I agree with you,’ the old man interposed. - </p> - <p> - ‘And I was anxious to do anything in my power to help her.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And you helped her by visiting this house at one o’clock in the morning - during my absence?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Father,’ said Teresa pleadingly, ‘can’t you and I discuss that aspect of - the question afterwards? What is it that you want to ask Mr. Redgrave?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘My girl,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘we will, if you please, discuss it now. Mr. - Redgrave is equally involved with yourself. Remember that it was you that - insisted on joining this little conference. You insisted on coming into - the room.’ Then he turned to Redgrave. ‘What was the exact nature of the - difficult situation in which you say my daughter was placed?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I will tell you, hither,’ said Teresa, standing up. ‘If you insist on Mr. - Redgrave hearing it, he shall. I had reason to think that either you had - killed Micky, or that Micky had killed you.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And which proposition did you favour?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I favoured,’ said Teresa, with a coldness equalling her father’s, ‘I - favoured the proposition that you had killed Micky. Bridget heard a - revolver-shot in the night. I knew that you kept a revolver. Bridget had - previously heard you and Micky at high words. This morning you had - disappeared without warning me. Micky had also disappeared. Father, you - were not treating me fairly.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You consider that before I leave my house I must give you “warning” like - a servant, eh, Teresa? I wonder what Mr. Redgrave thinks of all this.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I do not see that it matters what Mr. Redgrave thinks,’ said Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘It matters greatly,’ the old man contradicted; ‘and I will give you the - reason.’ He walked across the room very deliberately to the tall clock. - ‘Mr. Redgrave will be your husband, Teresa.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Father!’ - </p> - <p> - Richard tried to think of something suitable to such an extraordinary - occasion, but could not. - </p> - <p> - ‘You have hopelessly compromised yourself with him, and he shall marry - you.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Never!’ said Teresa, with every nerve tingling with a girl’s pride. ‘I - will die first!’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Very well,’ said Mr. Craig, with frightful calmness, ‘you will die, - Teresa.’ - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0180.jpg" alt="0180 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0180.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - His lips were white, and his eyes blazed as he opened the clock-case and - took there from a revolver. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig,’ said Richard, ‘may I beg you to remain calm?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I am entirely calm, sir. Teresa, you have never heard your mother’s - story. It is the remembrance of that story which makes me firm now. Some - day you shall hear it. You may think me mad, but I am not so. You may - think me of uncertain temper, mysterious, secretive, a bully, perhaps a - criminal. Well, you must think those things; but when you know all, if - ever you do know all, you will forgive all.’ His voice softened a little, - and then grew firm again. ‘In the meantime, you shall marry Mr. Redgrave. - You have visited his room at an unconscionable hour; he has visited this - house at an hour still more unconscionable, and there is only one - alternative to marriage. I am quite serious when I say that I would sooner - see you dead than that you should remain single after this episode. I have - seen what I have seen. I know your blood. I know what darkened my life, - and darkened your mother’s life, and finally killed her.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You threaten——’ Teresa began. - </p> - <p> - ‘Stop, Teresa!’ Richard exclaimed masterfully, and turning to Raphael - Craig: ‘Mr. Craig, nothing will suit me better. I have the honour to ask - your daughter’s hand.’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa started violently. - </p> - <p> - ‘As Teresa’s father,’ said Craig solemnly, ‘I give her to you. May she - prove a worthy wife!’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And you?’ Richard questioned, gazing at Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘What a farce!’ Teresa sobbed; but at the same moment, try how she might - to prevent it, a smile lighted her tears, and her hand found Richard’s - hand. - </p> - <p> - Mr. Craig put the revolver back into the clock-case. - </p> - <p> - ‘I expect you know that we didn’t yield to that tool of yours,’ said - Richard half playfully. ‘I am truly fond of Teresa—that is the - explanation. You wouldn’t have used that revolver, though you are - certainly in some ways a strange man.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘As you are good enough to say, Redgrave, I am a strange man. I should - have used the revolver.’ - </p> - <p> - The way in which these words were uttered created a profound impression on - Richard. Releasing Teresa’s hand, he began to consider what course he - should now adopt in the joint interest of himself and of Teresa. He could - not dismiss the suspicion that he had a madman to deal with. - </p> - <p> - ‘If I may,’ said he to Mr. Craig, ‘I should like a few words with Teresa - outside. After that there are several things to be settled between you, - sir, and me.’ - </p> - <p> - Mr. Craig nodded. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is late,’ he said. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Richard, ‘but such nights as this do not follow every day in - the week.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Teresa!’ the young lover exclaimed when they were in the hall, ‘say you - don’t regret. I have loved you since the moment I saw you first.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I don’t regret,’ she said simply. ‘Why should I?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Call me Dick,’ he demanded. - </p> - <p> - ‘Dick.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And kiss me.’ - </p> - <p> - She kissed him. - </p> - <p> - ‘Thanks,’ he said in his curious, undisturbed way; ‘that is indeed good. - Now go to bed and rest. I will have a thorough explanation with your - father at once. I am determined on that. We must know where we stand, you - and I;’ and without waiting for her to make any reply, he flung back into - the drawing-room and slammed the door. - </p> - <p> - Raphael still sat on the Chesterfield, apparently lost in thought. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig,’ Richard began, ‘I am now, for practical purposes, a member of - your family. Your interests are, presumably, your daughter’s interests, - and your daughter’s interests are certainly my interests; therefore——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Therefore?’ repeated Mr. Craig imperturbably. - </p> - <p> - ‘Therefore,’ said Richard, ‘don’t you think you had better let me into - some of your secrets?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘As, for example——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The secret, for example, of what has occurred between you and Micky, - whose real name you have doubtless learnt since I left you on Saturday - night last. I should tell you that I had ascertained the identity of that - gentleman immediately upon the conclusion of my interview with you.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And I,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘ascertained it about twenty-four hours later. It - was then that the revolver-shot occurred. The revolver-shot hurt no one - and nothing except the piano.’ Here Mr. Craig lifted up the embroidered - damask cover of the piano, and showed splintered wood beneath. The - perforation in the damask cover was scarcely noticeable. He continued: ‘I - was angry at the man’s calm insolence when I taxed him with being a - detective. I aimed to hit, but aimed badly. Having missed, I thought - better of the idea of an immediate killing, and told him to go. He went. I - saw nothing of him again till I saw him lying senseless in the pit - to-night; but I guessed that he was still prowling about.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Thanks,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Thanks for what?’ asked the old man. - </p> - <p> - ‘For your candour. I hope you will trust me and confide in me.’ Richard - was now trying to be extremely diplomatic. ‘In spite of appearances, I - still believe that you are an honourable man, engaged, however, in some - scheme which may involve you in difficulties. Mr. Craig, let me beg you, - most respectfully, to continue your frankness; you can lose nothing by it. - I need not point out to you that you have been very fortunate to-night.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘In what way?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘In the fact that I happen to have fallen in love with Teresa, and was - tempted beyond resistance by the opportunity offered by your amazing - proposition. My love for Teresa has not, I hope, impaired my judgment, and - my judgment infallibly tells me that you had a far more powerful reason - than that of propriety for urging my engagement to your daughter. And, Mr. - Craig, I venture to guess that your reason was that I knew too much of - your affairs. You discerned the nature of my feelings towards your - daughter, and you determined on a bold stroke. You are an incomparable - actor.’ - </p> - <p> - Mr. Craig slowly smiled; it was a smile of almost tragic amusement. - </p> - <p> - ‘Your insight does you credit, Redgrave,’ he said at length. ‘I admit that - it was part of my wish to secure your silence, and perhaps your - co-operation. Nevertheless, my chief reason for insisting on a betrothal - was a regard for Teresa’s future. There are pages in the history of my - life that——’ He stopped. - </p> - <p> - ‘We will not go into that,’ he said shortly. - </p> - <p> - ‘As you please,’ Richard assented. ‘Perhaps, to change the subject, you - will tell ‘me your object in disappearing so completely to-day, to the - grave alarm of my future wife?’ - </p> - <p> - The youth’s spectacles gleamed with good-humoured mischief. - </p> - <p> - ‘I had to perform a certain excursion,’ said Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - ‘Now, why in the name of fortune, sir, don’t you say at once that you went - to London?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How do you know that I went to London?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘By this paper.’ Richard pointed to the <i>Westminster Gazette</i>, which - lay on the floor. ‘It is to-night’s special edition. The <i>Westminster - Gazette</i> is not on sale in Hockliffe.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said the old man half dreamily, ‘I went to London.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘In order to close finally the estate of your uncle, who left you all that - silver?’ - </p> - <p> - The irony of Richard’s tone was not lost on the old man. - </p> - <p> - ‘What do you mean, boy?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I said a few moments ago, sir, that you were an incomparable actor. I - alluded to our previous interview in this room. Most cheerfully I admit - that Teresa’s father imposed on me then to perfection. I believed you - absolutely. Since then——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Since then I have found out that you never had any uncle, and that, - consequently, your uncle, being non-existent, could not have left you a - hundred thousand pounds in silver coin.’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig took a long, deep breath. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I lied to you. But it was a good lie—a lie which I - have used so often during the last year or two that I had almost come to - believe it truth. You are a clever fellow, Redgrave. How did you discover - this?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘To be precise,’ said Richard, ‘it was not I, but your precious Micky, who - discovered it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then you are not so clever a fellow.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Clever enough, sir, to go straight to the point. And the point is, the - point at which I have been gradually arriving since our talk began—how - did you become possessed of that silver? I ask the question, and I demand - an answer to it, as the affianced of your daughter.’ - </p> - <p> - At this moment the lamp, short of oil, began to give a feeble and still - feebler light. A slight smell of oil filled the room. Both men - instinctively glanced up at the lamp. - </p> - <p> - ‘Redgrave, I may, at any rate, assure you that you are not about to marry - a thief’s daughter.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No, sir; probably not. But I may be about to marry the daughter of a man - who in some other way has made an enemy of the law.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Listen,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘and believe that I am not acting now. - Twenty years ago I formed a scheme, a life-plan. To the success of this - scheme money was absolutely essential, money in large quantities. How was - I to get it? I was in the service of a bank, and this fact was very - helpful to the success of my scheme. I therefore did not wish to leave the - bank. But a bank manager cannot make money. At least, he cannot make much - money. I needed a lot. I thought and thought, and at length I arrived at - the solution of the problem. I began to <i>make</i> money.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But how?’ asked Richard, not yet caring to seem to perceive the old man’s - meaning. - </p> - <p> - ‘I made it—made it steadily for nearly twenty years.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You coined it?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I coined it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then during the whole of this time you have been spreading bad money - everywhere, and have never been found out?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I didn’t make bad money, Redgrave. I made perfectly good money. I cheated - no one. I merely sinned against the law. The price of silver, as you know, - has been steadily decreasing for many years. The silver in a half-crown, - as silver, is now worth little more than a shilling. A half-crown piece is - only worth half-a-crown because we choose to call it so. Consult any book - on coinage, and you will find that what I say is strictly true. What more - easy, then, given the mechanical skill, which I possessed, than to make - and utter genuine money at a substantial profit? I made a profit of fifty - per cent, on my coinage, and no one on earth can distinguish my money from - that of the Mint. It will stand any test.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard did not conceal that he was impressed by the fine simplicity and - effectiveness of Raphael’s scheme. - </p> - <p> - ‘But,’ the old man continued, ‘I made money faster than I could get rid of - it. It gradually accumulated. Then it was that I invented my Mexican - uncle, so that I might deal with the coin more openly.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes?’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘That is all,’ said Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - ‘But the object of the scheme?’ asked Richard. ‘You said you needed all - this money for a certain scheme.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said the old man solemnly, ‘and the scheme is approaching fruition. - Yet a little time, and my task will be done.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It is well,’ Richard put in, ‘that your scheme is nearly completed, for - the methods you have employed might even now be found out, and then - good-bye to the scheme, whatever it is.’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig smiled. - </p> - <p> - ‘No, my friend,’ he remarked composedly, ‘nothing can upset it now. The - last of my silver is disposed of—safely negotiated. Go into my sheds - now, and you will discover—nothing. My machinery is destroyed; all - evidence is annihilated. For twenty years I have been crossing an abyss by - means of a tight-rope; at any moment I might have been precipitated into - the gulf. But at last I am on firm ground once more. It is the Other, now, - who will shortly be plunged into the abyss.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The Other!’ Richard repeated, struck by the strange and mordant accent - with which Raphael Craig had pronounced that word. - </p> - <p> - ‘The Other,’ said the old man. ‘His hour comes.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And who is he?’ demanded Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘That,’ Raphael Craig said, ‘you will never know until my deed is - accomplished. The train is laid, the fuse is ignited. I have only to - wait.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then you will tell me nothing more?’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Have I not interested you so far?’ said the old man. - </p> - <p> - ‘Undoubtedly, but my curiosity is still not quite sated.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It occurs to me that your curiosity exceeds mine. By what right, young - man, do you put all these questions? I have never sought to cross-examine - you, as I might have done.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Under the circumstances,’ said Richard, ‘I think you have a perfect right - to know, and certainly I have no objection to telling you. I came on - behalf of the directors of the bank.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Which means Mr. Simon Lock,’ said Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - ‘Which means Mr. Simon Lock,’ Richard cheerfully admitted. - </p> - <p> - ‘Ah!’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then you decline to admit me further into your confidence?’ Richard - doggedly persisted. - </p> - <p> - ‘Redgrave,’ said the old man, standing up, my scheme is my own. It is the - most precious thing I have—the one thing that has kept me alive, - given me vitality, vivacity, strength, hope. During all these years I have - shared it with none. Shall I share it now? Shall I share it with a man - young enough to be my son, a man who forced himself into my house, wormed - himself into the secrets of my private life? I shall not. It is too sacred - a thing. You do not know what my scheme means to me; you cannot guess all - that is involved in it. I can conceive that you might even laugh at my - scheme—you who do not yet know what life is and what life means.’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig resumed with dignity his seat on the sofa. Richard was - impressed by this exhibition of profound feeling on the part of the old - man. He was inclined to admit, privately, that perhaps the old man was - right—perhaps he did not know what life was and what life meant; - perhaps there were things in life deeper, more terrible, than he had ever - suspected. - </p> - <p> - A silence fell upon the room. The old man seemed not inclined to break it; - Richard, still under the hypnotism of the scene, would not speak. To - relieve the intensity of the moment he quietly opened the <i>Westminster - Gazette</i>. The lamp had sunk lower and lower, and it was with difficulty - that he could read. His eye, however, chanced to fall on the financial - page, and there, as the heading of a paragraph in the ‘Notes,’ he saw - these words: ‘LOCK RUMOURS.’ He brought the page nearer to his face, and - read: ‘The rumours that the Lock group are in serious difficulties was - again rife on ’Change to-day. Mr. Simon Lock, seen by one of our - representatives, merely smiled when told of the prevalence of these - sinister rumours. He gave our representative the somewhat cryptic answer - that we should see what we should see. We do not doubt the truth of this - remark. Dealing in the shares of the newly-floated “La Princesse” Gold - Mining Company (Westralian) was very active this morning, but fell flat - after lunch. The one-pound shares, which, after a sensational rise last - week, fell on Thursday to a shade over par, are now at five and a half, - with a distinct tendency to harden, in spite of the fact that the demand - is slight.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard looked up from the paper. - </p> - <p> - ‘I see,’ he said, with interest, ‘that it is not absolutely all plain - sailing even with the great Simon Lock. Did you read this paragraph here - about him?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ murmured the old man. ‘Read it to me.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard did so in the rapidly-dying light. - </p> - <p> - ‘Very curious and interesting,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘I have sometimes - permitted myself to wonder whether our respected chairman is, after all, - the impregnable rock which he is usually taken for.’ - </p> - <p> - At this moment the lamp went out, and the two men sat in absolute - darkness. - </p> - <p> - The next ensuing phenomenon was the sound of an apparently heavy body - falling down the stairs into the hall, and then a girl’s terrified scream. - </p> - <p> - Richard sprang to the door, but a few moments elapsed before his fingers - could find the handle. At length he opened the door. The lamp in the hall - was still brightly burning. At the foot of the stairs lay Nolan, the - detective, wrapped in a bedgown. At the head of the stairs, in an attitude - of dismay, stood Juana. - </p> - <p> - There was a heavy and terrible sigh at Richard’s elbow. He turned his head - sharply. Raphael Craig stood behind him, his body swaying as though in a - breeze. - </p> - <p> - ‘Juana!’ he stammered out hoarsely, his eyes fixed on the trembling girl. - </p> - <p> - ‘Do not curse me again, father,’ she cried, with a superb gesture; ‘I have - suffered enough.’ - </p> - <p> - An oak chest stood to the left of the drawing-room door. Raphael Craig - sank down upon it, as if exhausted by a sudden and frightful emotion. - </p> - <p> - ‘Go!’ he said in a low voice. - </p> - <p> - But the girl came steadily downstairs towards him. - </p> - <p> - No one seemed to take any notice of the body of the detective. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XI—END OF THE NIGHT - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he body of the - detective lay, by chance, lengthwise along the mat at the foot of the - stairs. In order to reach the hall, therefore, Juana had no alternative - but to step over the prone figure. This she did unhesitatingly, and then - turned to Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Carry the poor fellow upstairs, will you?’ she asked quietly. ‘He is - delirious. The room overhead.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard obeyed. The small, light frame of the detective gave him no - trouble. At the top of the stairs he met Mrs. Bridget hastening towards - him. - </p> - <p> - ‘Holy Virgin!’ she exclaimed. ‘I did but run down by the backstairs to the - kitchen and left the spalpeen with Miss Juana, and when I came back to - them the room was as empty as my pocket.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘He got a bit wild,’ Richard explained. ‘I suppose his head is affected. - Miss Juana is talking with her father. Where is Miss Teresa?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure, she’s gone out to the mares. They must have their water, if every - soul of us was dying.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard carefully laid Nolan on the bed in the room over the porch. By - this time the sufferer had recovered consciousness. He murmured a few - meaningless strings of words, then sighed. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will leave him with you,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Not alone! If he begins to kick out——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘He’s quite quiet now,’ said Richard, closing the door behind him. - </p> - <p> - Richard was extremely anxious to be present, as he had a sort of right to - be, at the conversation between Raphael Craig and Juana. He descended the - stairs with such an air of deliberation as he could assume, and stood - hesitatingly at the foot. He felt like an interloper, an eavesdropper, one - who is not wanted, but, indeed, there was no other place for him to put - himself into, unless it might be the kitchen; for the drawing-room lamp - was extinguished, and the lamp in the dining-room had not been lighted. - </p> - <p> - Juana had approached her father, who still sat on the oak chest. She bent - slightly towards him, like a figure of retribution, or menace, or sinister - prophecy. Richard noticed the little wisps of curls in the nape of her - neck. She was still dressed in her riding-habit, but the lengthy skirt had - been fastened up by means of a safety-pin. Richard could not be sure - whether father or daughter had so much as observed his presence in the - hall. - </p> - <p> - ‘I’ll stay where I am,’ he thought. ‘I’m a member of the family now, and - it is my business to know all the family secrets.’ - </p> - <p> - For at least thirty seconds Juana uttered no word. Then she said, in a low - vibrating voice: - </p> - <p> - ‘Why do you tell me to go, father?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Did I not say to you last year,’ the old man replied, ‘that if you left - me you must leave me for ever?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You abide by that?’ the girl demanded. - </p> - <p> - ‘I abide by it,’ said Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - Like a flash, Juana swept round and faced Richard, and he at once - perceived that she had been aware of his presence. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she said, with head in air, and nostrils dilated, ‘Teresa - has just told me that at my father’s—er—suggestion you and she - have become engaged to be married.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘That is so,’ said Richard politely. ‘May we hope for your - congratulations?’ - </p> - <p> - She ignored the remark. - </p> - <p> - ‘Do you know whom you are marrying?’ she asked curtly. - </p> - <p> - ‘I am under the impression that I am about to marry the daughter of Mr. - Raphael Craig, manager of the Kilburn branch of the British and Scottish - Bank.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You are about to do nothing of the sort,’ said Juana. ‘Mr. Raphael Craig - has no daughter. Teresa and myself, I may explain to you, are - twin-sisters, though I have the misfortune to look much the older. We have - always passed as the daughters of Mr. Craig, We have always called him - father. Teresa still thinks him her father. It was only recently that I - discovered——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Juana,’ the old man interrupted, ‘have you, too, got hold of the wild - tale? It is astonishing how long a falsehood, an idle rumour, will survive - and flourish.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘There is no falsehood, no idle rumour,’ said Juana coldly; ‘and I think - it proper that Mr. Redgrave should know all that I know.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It will make no difference whatever to me,’ said Richard, ‘whose daughter - Teresa may be. ‘It is herself, and not her ancestors, that I shall have - the honour of marrying.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Still,’ said Juana, ‘do you not think that you ought to know Teresa’s - history?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Decidedly,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - With an embittered glance at her father, Juana resumed: - </p> - <p> - ‘Some time ago, Mr. Redgrave, a difficulty between Mr. Craig and myself - led to my leaving this house. I was the merest girl, but I left. I was too - proud to stay. I had a mare of my own, whom I had trained to do a number - of tricks. I could ride as well as most. Bosco’s circus happened to be in - the neighbourhood. I conceived the wild idea of applying for a situation - in the circus. Only a girl utterly inexperienced in life would have dreamt - of such a thing. The circus people had me performing for them, and they - engaged me. On the whole I lived a not unhappy existence. I tell you this - only to account for my presence not long since in Limerick.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Limerick!’ exclaimed Raphael Craig in alarm. ‘You have been there?’ - </p> - <p> - Juana continued calmly: - </p> - <p> - ‘The circus travelled in Ireland, and eventually came to Limerick. I knew - that Limerick was my mother’s home, and I began to make inquiries. I found - out that my sister and I were born previous to Mr. Craig’s marriage with - my mother. She had been married before, or she had, at least, been through - the ceremony of marriage with another man—a man unknown, who came - suddenly into her life and as suddenly went out of it. You will gather, - then, that Mr. Craig is not our father, and that he has no authority over - us.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Redgrave,’ muttered Raphael Craig, ‘I tell you the poor girl is mad.’ - </p> - <p> - Juana resumed quietly: - </p> - <p> - ‘I must inform you of another thing. While in Limerick and the district I - met this Nolan, the detective. He had another name there. I know now, from - what my sister has told me, that he must have been investigating the early - history of my mother, and my real and false fathers, for some purpose of - the police. But I judge him as I found him. He was very kind to me once, - and I liked him. He was the personification of good-nature and good - temper. When our ways parted he expressed the certain hope that we should - meet again. We have met again, under circumstances extremely painful. He - has not yet recognised me. You may ask, father,’ she went on, turning to - Raphael Craig, ‘why I came back to your house to-day. There were two - reasons. It is three months since I learnt about my parentage, and during - the whole of that time I have been debating with myself whether or not to - come and have it out with you. I inclined more and more to having a clear - understanding, not only for my own sake, but for Teresa’s. Then, the - second reason, the circus folk had begun to talk. There were jealousies, - of course; and the rumour that my birth was surrounded by doubtful - mysteries somehow got afoot in the tents. I decided to leave. Here I am. I - came prepared for peace; but you, father, have decided otherwise. I shall - leave to-morrow morning, We have no claim on each other. Mr. Redgrave, - that is all I have to say.’ - </p> - <p> - She ceased. - </p> - <p> - Richard bowed, and looked expectantly towards the old man, but the old man - said nothing. - </p> - <p> - ‘I have the right to ask you, sir,’ said Richard, ‘for your version of - what Miss Juana has just told us.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘We will talk of that to-morrow,’ answered the old man testily. ‘We will - talk of that to-morrow.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It is already to-morrow,’ said Juana scornfully. - </p> - <p> - There was a sudden tremendous racket overhead. A scream could be heard - from Bridget, and a loud, confused chattering from Nolan. The latter - rushed violently half-way downstairs, his eyes burning, Mrs. Bridget after - him. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0206.jpg" alt="0206 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0206.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - ‘I tell you I won’t stay there!’ he shouted. ‘It’s unlucky—that room - where Featherstone slept the night before he killed himself! It’s - unlucky!’ - </p> - <p> - The restless patient sank on the stairs, exhausted by the exertion. Before - Richard could do anything, Mrs. Bridget, that gaunt and powerful creature, - had picked up the little man, and by great effort carried him away again. - The people downstairs saw no more of him. Mrs. Bridget had at last made up - her mind to take him firmly in hand. - </p> - <p> - Richard was startled by a light touch on his shoulder, and he was still - more startled when he caught the horror-struck face of Juana—the - staring eyes, the drawn mouth. - </p> - <p> - ‘Tell me,’ she said, her finger still on his shoulder—‘tell me—I - cannot trust him—has Mr. Featherstone committed suicide? Is he - dead?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Richard, extremely mystified, but judging that simple candour - would be the best course to adopt under the circumstances. - </p> - <p> - ‘There was an inquest. Didn’t you see it in the papers?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Circus folk seldom trouble with newspapers,’ she said. ‘When was it?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘About a month ago.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Poor fellow!’ - </p> - <p> - Tears ran down her cheeks, and she spoke with an accent indescribably - mournful. - </p> - <p> - ‘You knew him?’ Richard suggested. - </p> - <p> - ‘I should have been his wife a year ago,’ said Juana, ‘had <i>he</i> not - forbidden it.’ Again she pointed to Raphael Craig. ‘I never loved Mr. - Featherstone, but I liked him. He was an honourable man—old enough - to be my father, but an honourable man. He worshipped me. Why should I not - have married him? It was the best chance I was ever likely to get, living - the life we lived—solitary, utterly withdrawn from the world. Yes, I - would have married him, and I would have made him a good wife. But <i>he</i> - forbade. He gave no reason. I was so angry that I would have taken Mr. - Featherstone despite him. But Mr. Featherstone had old-fashioned ideas. He - thought it wrong to marry a girl without her father’s consent. And so we - parted. That, Mr. Redgrave, was the reason why I left the house of my - so-called father. Scarcely a month ago Mr. Featherstone came to me again - secretly, one night after the performance was over, and he again asked me - to marry him, and said that he had decided to dispense with Mr. Craig’s - consent. He begged me to marry him. His love was as great as ever, but - with me things had changed. I had almost ceased even to like Mr. - Featherstone. I was free, independent, and almost happy in that wandering - life. Besides, I—never mind that. I refused him as kindly as I - could. It must have been immediately afterwards that the poor fellow - committed suicide, And you’—she flashed a swift denunciatory glance - on Raphael Craig—‘are his murderer.’ - </p> - <p> - The old man collected himself and stood up, his face calm, stately, livid. - </p> - <p> - ‘Daughter,’ he said, ‘daughter—for I shall I still call you so, by - the right of all that I have done for you—you have said a good deal - in your anger that had been better left unsaid. But doubtless you have - found a sufficient justification for your wrath. You are severe in your - judgments. In youth we judge; in age we are merciful. You think you have - been hardly done to. Perhaps it is so; but not by me—rather by fate. - Even now I could tell you such things as would bring you to your knees at - my feet, but I refrain. Like you, I am proud. Some day you will know all - the truth—the secret of my actions and the final goal of my desires. - And I think that on that day you will bless me. No man ever had a more - sacred, a holier aim, than that which has been the aim of my life. I thank - God it is now all but achieved.’ - </p> - <p> - He lighted one of the candles which always stood on the bookcase in the - hall, and passed into the drawing-room, where he sat down, leaving the - door ajar. - </p> - <p> - Richard crept towards the door and looked in. The old man sat motionless, - absently holding the candle in his hand. The frontdoor opened from the - outside, and Teresa ran into the house. She saw her father, and hastened, - with a charming gesture, towards him. - </p> - <p> - ‘Old darling!’ she exclaimed; ‘why that sad face, and why that candle? - What are you all doing? See!’ She pulled back the shutters of the window. - ‘See! the sun has risen!’ - </p> - <p> - So ended that long night. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XII—THE NAPOLEON - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e have now to - watch another aspect of the great struggle which for so many years had - been maturing in secrecy and darkness, and the true nature of which was - hidden from all save one man. - </p> - <p> - It was seven o’clock in the morning, and in a vast bedroom of a house in - Manchester Square a man lay with closed eyes. The house was one of those - excessively plain dwellings of the very rich which are characteristic of - the streets and squares of the West End of London. Its façade was relieved - by no ornament. You saw merely a flat face of brick, with four rows of - windows, getting smaller towards the roof, and a sombre green front-door - in the middle of the lowest row. The house did not even seem large, but it - was, in fact, extremely spacious, as anyone could see who put foot into - the hall, where two footmen lounged from morn till night. The bedroom to - which we have referred was on the first-floor. It occupied half the width - of the house, and looked out on the square. Its three windows were made - double, so that no sound from outside could penetrate that sacred - apartment. Ventilation was contrived by means of two electric fans. The - furniture consisted of the articles usual in an English bedroom, for the - man in bed prided himself on being an Englishman who did not ape foreign - ways. The said articles were, however, extraordinarily large, massive, and - ornate. The pile of the immense carpet probably could not have been - surpassed by any carpet in London. Across the foot of the carved oak - bedstead was a broad sofa upholstered in softest silk. - </p> - <p> - An English bracket-clock on the mantelshelf intoned the hour of seven with - English solemnity, and instantly afterwards an electric bell rang about - six inches over the head of the occupant of the bed. - </p> - <p> - He opened his eyes wearily. He had not been asleep; indeed, he had spent - most of the night in a futile wakefulness, which was a bad sign with a man - who boasted that as a rule he could sleep at will, like Napoleon. Here was - one detail out of many in which this man considered that he resembled - Napoleon. - </p> - <p> - He groaned, pulled his gray moustache, stroked his chin, which bristled - with the night’s growth of beard, and ran his fingers through his gray - hair. Then he touched an electric button. Within ten seconds a valet - entered, bearing the morning papers—not merely a judicious selection - of morning papers, but every morning paper published in London. - </p> - <p> - ‘Put them on the sofa, Jack.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - The man rose out of bed with a sudden jerk. At the same moment the valet, - with a movement which would have done credit to a juggler, placed a pair - of bath slippers on his master’s feet, and with another movement of equal - swiftness deposited a pair of six-pound dumbbells in his hands. The man - performed six distinct exercises twelve times each, and then dropped the - lumps of iron on the bed, whence the valet removed them. - </p> - <p> - ‘Seven-thirty,’ said the man. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, sir,’ said the valet, and disappeared. - </p> - <p> - The man sank languidly on to the sofa, and began, with the efficiency of a - highly-practised reader, to skim the papers one after the other. He led - off with the <i>Financial</i>, proceeded to the <i>Times</i>, and took the - rest anyhow. When he had finished, the papers lay in a tangled heap on the - thick carpet. This man was pre-eminently tidy and orderly, yet few things - delighted him more than, at intervals, to achieve a gigantic disorder. It - was a little affectation which he permitted himself. Another little - affectation was his manner of appearing always to be busy from the hour of - opening his eyes to the hour of closing them. He was, in truth, a very - busy man indeed; but it pleased him to seem more deeply employed than he - actually was. He had a telephone affixed to his bed-head, by means of - which he could communicate with his private secretary’s bedroom in the - house, and also with his office in Cannon Street. This telephone tickled - his fancy. He used it for the sake of using it; he enjoyed using it in the - middle of the night. He went to it now, and rang imperiously. He did - everything imperiously. There was a tinkling reply on the bell. - </p> - <p> - ‘Are you up, Oakley? Well, get up then. Go to Cannon Street, and bring the - important letters. And tell——’ He went off into a series of - detailed instructions. ‘And be back here at half-past eight.’ - </p> - <p> - The clock struck half-past seven. The valet entered as silently as a nun, - and the modern Napoleon passed into his marble bath-room. By this time - everyone in the household—that household which revolved round the - autocrat as the solar system revolves round the sun—knew that the - master had awakened in a somewhat dangerous mood, and that squally weather - might be expected. And they all, from the page-boy to the great Mr. - Oakley, the private secretary, accepted this fact as further evidence that - the master’s career of prosperity had received a check. - </p> - <p> - At eight o’clock precisely the master took breakfast—an English - breakfast: bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, marmalade—in the - breakfast-room, a room of medium size opening off the library. He took it - in solitude, for he could not tolerate the presence of servants so early - in the morning, and he had neither wife nor family. He poured out his own - coffee like one of his own clerks, and read his private letters propped up - one by one against the coffee-pot, also like one of his own clerks. He - looked at his watch as he drank the last drop of coffee. It was thirty-one - minutes past eight. He walked quickly into the library. If Oakley had not - been there Oakley would have caught it; but Oakley happened to be there, - calmly opening envelopes with a small ivory paper-cutter. It was mainly in - virtue of his faculty of always ‘being there’ that Oakley received a - salary of six hundred a year. - </p> - <p> - ‘Shall you go to Cannon Street this morning, sir?’ asked Oakley, a - middle-aged man with the featureless face of a waiter in a large - restaurant. - </p> - <p> - ‘Why?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Sir Arthur Custer has telegraphed to know.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I thought not, and have told him.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Umph!’ said the master, nettled, but not daring to say anything. - </p> - <p> - Like many a man equally powerful, this Napoleon was in some ways in awe of - his unexceptionable clerk. Oakley might easily get another master, but it - was doubtful whether his employer could get another clerk equal to Oakley. - </p> - <p> - ‘A light post this morning, sir,’ said Oakley. - </p> - <p> - ‘Umph!’ said the master again. ‘Take down this letter, and have it sent - off instantly: - </p> - <p> - ‘“Richard Redgrave, Esq., 4, Adelphi Terrace. Dear Sir,—I shall be - obliged if you can make it convenient to call on me this morning as early - as possible at the above address. The bearer can bring you here in his - cab.—Yours truly.”’ - </p> - <p> - The letter was written, signed, and despatched. - </p> - <p> - ‘Anything from Gaunt and Griffiths?’ asked the Napoleon. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - Oakley turned to a letter on large, thick, quarto paper. The stationery of - this famous firm of stock-brokers—perhaps the largest firm, and - certainly the firm with the cleanest record, on the Exchange—was - always of an impressive type. - </p> - <p> - ‘They say, “We are obliged by your favour of to-day’s date. We can offer a - limited number of La Princesse shares at twenty-five. We shall be glad to - have your acceptance or refusal before noon to-morrow.—Your obedient - servants, Gaunt and Griffiths.”’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Twenty-five!’ exclaimed the other. ‘They mean five. It’s a clerical - error.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The amount is written out in words.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It’s a clerical error.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Doubtless, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - Even now the Napoleon would not believe that misfortune, perhaps ruin, was - at his door. He doggedly refused to face the fact. It seemed incredible, - unthinkable, that anything could happen to him. So we all think until the - crash comes. He plunged into the mass of general correspondence with a - fine appearance of perfect calmness. But he could not deceive Mr. Oakley. - </p> - <p> - At five minutes past nine there was a careful tap at the door. The - messenger had returned from Adelphi Terrace. Mr. Redgrave was not at his - rooms. He had gone out on the previous evening, and had not come in again. - The landlady knew not where he was. - </p> - <p> - ‘Send again at noon, Oakley,’ said the Napoleon. - </p> - <p> - In another minute there was another tap at the door. - </p> - <p> - ‘Come in!’—angrily. - </p> - <p> - The footman announced that Sir Arthur Custer had called. - </p> - <p> - ‘D——n Sir Arthur Custer!’ said the master of the house. ‘Here, - Oakley, get out of this! I must see him.’ - </p> - <p> - Oakley got out, and Sir Arthur was ushered in. Sir Arthur looked at his - host queerly, and then with much care shut the door. - </p> - <p> - ‘I say, Lock,’ he said, putting his silk hat on the table, ‘it seems to me - we’re in a devil of a hole.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Indeed!’ said Simon Lock cautiously. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ Sir Arthur insisted. ‘Of course I’m sure that when you asked me to - join you in this Princesse affair——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You will pardon me, Sir Arthur,’ said Lock, stopping him very politely - and formally, ‘I did not ask you to join me. It was yourself who suggested - that.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Ah, well!’ said Sir Arthur, with a little less assurance, ‘we won’t - quarrel about that. At any rate, I understood from you that we were in for - a deuced good thing.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘That is so,’ Lock returned. ‘By the way, sit down, Sir Arthur, and remain - calm.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Am I not calm?’ asked the member of Parliament, whose pomposity was - unaccustomed to be trifled with. - </p> - <p> - ‘Certainly you are calm. I merely ask you to remain so. Now to come to the - business in hand. I said, you remind me, that we were in for a good thing. - So we were. But some secret force has been working against us. If I could - unmask that secret force all would be well, for I could then bring - pressure to bear that would effectually—— You understand?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No matter from what direction the force came?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No matter from what direction. And, Sir Arthur,’ said Simon Lock - impressively, ‘I shall find it out.’ He repeated the phrase still more - impressively, ‘I shall find it out. Simon Lock has never yet been - defeated, and he will not be defeated now. I began life, Sir Arthur, on - half-a-crown a week. There were conspiracies against me then, but I upset - them. At the age of fifty-five, on a slightly larger scale ‘—he - smiled—‘I shall repeat the operations of my early youth.’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock, like many self-made men, was extremely fond of referring to - his early youth and the humbleness of his beginnings. He thought that it - proved an absence of snobbery in his individuality. - </p> - <p> - ‘And in the meantime?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘In the meantime, I frankly confess, Sir Arthur, we have sold more La - Princesse shares than we can deliver. Nay, further, we have sold, I fear, - more La Princesse shares than actually exist. We sold freely for the fall. - I knew that the shares would fall soon after the flotation, and they did. - But they have mysteriously risen again.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And are still rising,’ Sir Arthur put in, nervously stroking his long - thin beard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes. We sold, I find, over two hundred thousand shares at three. They - then fell, as you know, to about twenty-five shillings. Then they began to - go up like a balloon. The market tightened like a drawn string. Sir - Arthur, we were led into a trap. For once in a way some fellow has got the - better of Simon Lock—temporarily, only temporarily. My brokers - thought they were selling shares to the public in general, but they were - selling to the agents of a single buyer. That is evident.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How do we stand now?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘We have to deliver our shares in a week’s time. We have some eighty - thousand shares in hand, bought at various prices up to five pounds. On - those eighty thousand we shall just about clear ourselves. That leaves us - over a hundred and twenty thousand yet to buy.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘At the best price we can obtain?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And what is the best price to-day?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Well,’ said Lock, looking Sir Arthur straight in the face, ‘I have had - shares offered to me this morning at twenty-five.’ - </p> - <p> - Sir Arthur’s reply was to rush to the sideboard and help himself to a - glass of brandy. He was a timid creature, despite his appearance. - </p> - <p> - ‘And that figure means that we should lose the sum of twenty-two pounds on - each share. Twenty-two times one hundred and twenty thousand, Sir Arthur, - is two millions six hundred and forty thousand pounds. That would be the - amount of our loss on the transaction.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But this is child’s play, Lock.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Excuse me, it isn’t,’ said Simon Lock. ‘It is men’s play, and desperately - serious.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I don’t understand the methods of the Stock Exchange—never did,’ - said Sir Arthur Custer, M.P. ‘I only came into the City because a lot of - fellows like yourself asked me to. But it seems to me the only thing to do - is to cry off.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Cry off?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes. Tell all these people to whom we have contracted to sell Princesse - shares that we simply can’t supply ’em, and tell ’em to do - their worst. Their worst won’t be worse than a dead loss of over two and a - half millions.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘My dear Sir Arthur,’ said Simon Lock, ‘there is no crying off in the - City. We have contracted to deliver those shares, and we must deliver - them, or pay the price—commercial ruin.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The Stock Exchange,’ Sir Arthur blustered, ‘is one of the most infamous - institutions——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ Simon Lock cut him short, ‘we know all about that. The Stock - Exchange is quite right as long as we are making money; but when we begin - to lose it immediately becomes infamous.’ - </p> - <p> - Sir Arthur made an obvious effort to pull himself together. - </p> - <p> - ‘What is your plan of campaign, Lock?’ he asked. ‘You must have some - scheme in your head. What is it? Don’t trifle with me.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Well,’ said Simon Lock, ‘we have a week. - </p> - <p> - That is our principal asset. Seven precious days in which to turn round. A - hundred and sixty hours. In that time——’ - </p> - <p> - There was a knock at the door, and a page entered with a telegram. - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock opened it hurriedly. The message ran: - </p> - <p> - ‘Sorry must withdraw offer contained in our letter yesterday. Princesse - shares now thirty-five.—Gaunt and Griffiths.’ - </p> - <p> - The erstwhile Napoleon passed the orange-coloured paper to Sir Arthur - Custer. - </p> - <p> - ‘No answer,’ he said calmly to the page. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIII—THE VASE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he sensation of - the next day’s Stock Exchange was the unsuccessfulness of the attempts of - Simon Lock’s brokers—he employed several different firms—to - buy La Princesse shares. It was not definitely stated who wanted these - shares, but everyone seemed to be aware that Simon Lock was the man in the - hole. The Exchange laughed quietly to itself; it did not dare to laugh - aloud, for Simon Lock was still a person to be feared. Not a single share - was to be obtained at any price; they had all been withdrawn from the - market. In vain Simon Lock tried to discover the holders. The identity of - the holders seemed to be wrapped in impenetrable mystery. He went to one - man, a member of the Westralian market, who varied the excitements of the - Exchange by the excitements of prodigious play at Monte Carlo, and took - him out to lunch. The great Simon Lock actually took this man, a nonentity - in the distinguished financial circles in which Simon moved, out to lunch - at a famous and expensive restaurant, where those City men who want real - turtle soup can always get it. - </p> - <p> - ‘My people sold you ten thousand Princesse shares the other day,’ said - Simon Lock ingratiatingly to this man. - </p> - <p> - ‘True,’ said the man cautiously, ‘at three.’ ‘Just so,’ said Lock; ‘and we - have to deliver in a week.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘In a week,’ repeated the man absently. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, look here,’ said Simon Lock, making a sudden plunge, ‘we don’t want - to deliver; it doesn’t suit us. See?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You don’t want to deliver? Why not?’ ‘Never mind why. The question is, - what will you take to release us from the contract?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Nothing.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You’ll release us for nothing?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I mean I can’t release you, Mr. Lock,’ said the man with formal - politeness. ‘My clients have given me positive instructions.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Who are your clients?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘That I am not at liberty to say.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Tell me who your clients are,’ said Simon Lock, ‘and I’ll give you five - thousand down.’ - </p> - <p> - The man shook his head sadly. He would have liked that five thousand, but - he dared not accept it. - </p> - <p> - ‘Are you acting for Gaunt and Griffiths?’ asked Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ said the man, glad to be able to give a positive answer. - </p> - <p> - ‘Waiter, the bill,’ Simon Lock cried, and then gave a sigh. - </p> - <p> - The bill came to thirty shillings—thirty shillings wasted! He - reflected that in a few weeks’ time, unless something happened, he might - be in serious need of that thirty shillings. Nevertheless, such is human - nature, the idea of Simon Lock being hard up for thirty shillings was so - amusing to him that he could not dismiss a smile. The other man wondered - what evil that smile portended. - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock proceeded from the restaurant to the offices of Gaunt and - Griffiths. He demanded to see Mr. Gaunt, the venerable head of the firm, - and Mr. Gaunt kept him, Simon Lock, waiting ten minutes! Simon Lock had - not suffered such an insult for years. At his name the most obdurate doors - were accustomed to open instantly. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, Mr. Gaunt,’ he said, with an affectation of breezy familiarity, - when at length he was admitted, ‘I’ve just called about the matter of - those Princesse shares. How many can you offer?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘We can offer ten thousand, Mr. Lock.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘At thirty-five?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘At thirty-five.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘That means three hundred and fifty thousand pounds for your holding?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Exactly.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Don’t you wish you may get it, Mr. Gaunt? Eh! eh!’ - </p> - <p> - He laughed gaily, but suddenly it occurred to him that his laugh sounded - hollow and foolish, and he stopped. - </p> - <p> - ‘What do you mean?’ asked Mr. Gaunt gravely. - </p> - <p> - ‘I mean,’ said Simon Lock lamely, ‘that the price is, of course, a fancy - one. You know the market is a bit tight, and you’re playing a game. You’ll - take less than thirty-five if you really want to sell.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Our firm is not in the habit of playing games, Mr. Lock. And, by the way, - your last words bring us to the point. You say “if we really want to - sell.” The fact is, we don’t want to sell. You will remember that it was - you who came first to us to ask if we had any shares to offer. We made - inquiries, and found some. Our clients——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Would you mind telling me,’ Simon Lock interrupted, ‘who your clients - are?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It would be useless for you to approach them personally,’ said Mr. Gaunt. - </p> - <p> - ‘I don’t want to approach them personally. I shall not dream of such a - breach of etiquette,’ said Simon Lock, with an assumed fervour of - righteousness. ‘I merely wanted to know, out of curiosity.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I regret that I cannot satisfy your curiosity, Mr. Lock.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then that is your last word, Mr. Gaunt—ten thousand at - thirty-five?’ - </p> - <p> - A boy entered with a telegram, which Mr. Gaunt perused slowly through his - gold-rimmed spectacles. - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ said Mr. Gaunt; ‘I regret to say—-at forty. I have just - received further instructions by telegraph.’ - </p> - <p> - He waved the telegram in the air. - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock’s face grew ugly, and he spoke with ominous coldness. - </p> - <p> - ‘Someone seems disposed to make fun of me, Mr. Gaunt,’ he said. ‘I don’t - know who it is, but I shall find out; and when I do find out, there will - be trouble for that someone. I’ll let this cursed city know that Simon - Lock is not to be trifled with.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Good-day,’ said Mr. Gaunt calmly. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0232.jpg" alt="0232 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0232.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - Simon Lock went out furious. On the pavement outside he met the office-boy - who had brought in the telegram to Mr. Gaunt. - </p> - <p> - ‘Where are you going to, my boy?’ asked Simon Lock kindly. - </p> - <p> - ‘To the post-office, sir,’ said the boy. - </p> - <p> - ‘So am I. Now would you like to earn a couple of sovereigns easily?’ Simon - Lock inquired. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, sir,’ said the boy, and added, ‘if it’s all square. Sovereigns ain’t - flying about, you know.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It’s all square. You won’t do any harm to anyone by earning it. All I - want you to do is to go into the post-office and say that on the last - telegram sent to your firm the name of the office of despatch isn’t - stamped clearly. Ask them to refer and tell you what it is. They know you, - I suppose?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Oh yes, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, run along.’ - </p> - <p> - The boy, dazzled by the glitter of sovereigns, went. Simon Lock waited for - him outside the post-office. - </p> - <p> - ‘What’s the answer?’ he asked when the boy came out. - </p> - <p> - ‘They said I ought to have brought the form with me,’ said the boy, ‘but I - talked to ’em like a father. I reckon I know how to manage them - girls.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And what’s the name of the place?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Hockliffe.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Here’s your two sovereigns,’ said Simon Lock gladly. - </p> - <p> - The lad capered down the street in the exuberance of joy. - </p> - <p> - Simon had learnt something. And yet, when he thought over what he had - learnt, he seemed to think somehow that it was valueless to him. He had - guessed all along who was at the bottom of the La Princesse business. His - guess had been confirmed—that was all. He had threatened that, when - he knew, he would do such and such dreadful things; but what could he, in - fact, do? Should he send for Raphael Craig and threaten him? With what? It - would be absurd to threaten with dismissal from a post worth at most a - thousand a year a man who stood to gain hundreds of thousands from you. - No; that manoeuvre would not serve. At last he decided that he would pay a - surprise visit of inspection to the Kilburn office of the British and - Scottish Bank, and then act as circumstances dictated. - </p> - <p> - He jumped into a hansom. - </p> - <p> - ‘Kilburn,’ he said shortly. - </p> - <p> - ‘What ho!’ exclaimed the driver, not caring for such a long journey; - ‘Kilburn, eh? What’s the matter with the Tuppenny Toob?’ - </p> - <p> - However, Simon Lock insisted on being driven to Kilburn, and was duly - driven thither, though at a pace which suited the horse better than it - suited Simon Lock. The latter revenged himself—but not on the horse—by - paying the precise legal fare. - </p> - <p> - He walked into the bank. No one knew him. His august presence caused no - flutter of excitement. The cashier inquired briefly what he wanted. - </p> - <p> - ‘The manager,’ said Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘If you please.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig is taking his annual holiday.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Thanks,’ said Simon Lock, grinding his teeth, and walked out. He had - experienced exactly the same rebuff as Richard Redgrave a few days - previously. - </p> - <p> - That evening, though he had several engagements, including one to dine at - the house of a Marquis in Park Lane, Simon Lock dined at home in - Manchester Square. The entire household trembled, for the formidable - widower was obviously in a silent and bitter rage. He found the - indefatigable Oakley in the library. - </p> - <p> - ‘Has that ass Custer been here again?’ he asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘No, sir,’ said Oakley; ‘that ass Sir Arthur Custer has not been here - within my knowledge.’ - </p> - <p> - Many a clerk of Simon Lock’s had suffered sudden dismissal for a far - slighter peccadillo than this sally on the part of Mr. Oakley. The fact - was, Simon Lock was too surprised at the pleasantry, coming as it did from - a man who seldom joked, to take any practical notice of it. The two men—the - clerk and the Napoleon of finance—glanced at each other. - </p> - <p> - ‘You are in a devilish merry humour tonight, Oakley!’ exclaimed Simon - Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is my birthday, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How old are you?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Between thirty and sixty, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Listen,’ said Lock: ‘you shall come and dine with me. I never knew you in - this mood before. I don’t feel like laughing myself, and I may give you - the sack before we get past the fish; but come if you like.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘With pleasure, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - So they dined together in the great diningroom of the mansion, with a - footman apiece, and a butler behind the footmen. Mr. Oakley’s mood was - certainly singular to the last degree. Some people might have thought that - his careless hilarity was due to the effects of intoxication, but this was - not the case. And yet surely no one except a drunken man would have dared - to behave to Simon Lock as he behaved. Mr. Oakley made deliberate fun of - his master before the three menials, and the master never flinched nor - jibbed. The fish was safely passed without an explosion, and the joint, - the poultry, the sweets, and the priceless Cheshire cheese followed - without mishap. When the coffee and cigars came round Simon Lock dismissed - his servants. - </p> - <p> - ‘Oakley,’ he said, ‘why are you going to give me notice to leave?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I had no intention of leaving you, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I could swear,’ said Lock, ‘that you had had the offer of a better place, - and were just amusing yourself with me before giving notice. It would be - like you to do that, Oakley. You were always a bit of a mystery. I suppose - you have come to the conclusion that Simon Lock’s career is over?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Nothing of the kind, sir. I have merely been jolly because it is my - birthday.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, Oakley, as it is your birthday, I don’t mind confessing to you that - I am in something of a hole.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Over the La Princesse shares?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It is a pity,’ said Oakley, ‘that we have been unable to lay our hands on - Richard Redgrave.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You think, then, Oakley, that Redgrave, if we could catch him and make - him speak, might be able to throw light on this little affair?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘At any rate,’ said Oakley, ‘he might tell you why he so suddenly threw up - his job.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, I would give something to get hold of Redgrave.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I felt that so strongly, sir, that I have myself been down to his place - twice.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And have discovered nothing?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Nothing. But——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, what is it?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I was just thinking about the death of Featherstone. Featherstone lived - in a couple of rooms in Blenheim Mansions, off the Edgware Road. Furnished - rooms they were, let by a woman who has two flats on the same floor, and - lets them out in small quantities to bachelors.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I wanted a couple of rooms myself.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Have you not sufficient accommodation here?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I wanted, as I was saying, a couple of rooms myself, and I had a fancy to - take the two rooms once occupied by the deceased Featherstone. It was a - morbid fancy, perhaps. The landlady seemed to think so. Anyhow, I took - them. I entered into possession this afternoon, and locked the door.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Did you expect to see his ghost? Featherstone killed himself at the bank, - not in his rooms.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I am aware of it, sir,’ said Oakley. ‘I did not expect to see his ghost; - I merely wanted to look round.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Look round for what?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘For anything interesting that I might be able to see.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But surely the police had searched?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, but they had found nothing. And I knew how anxious you were to find - out anything that might be discovered about Feather-stone’s suicide.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Was that your reason for taking the rooms?’ Simon Lock sneered. - </p> - <p> - ‘Why not?’ said Oakley. ‘Why should it not have been my reason? I have - always been loyal to you, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, well, did you find anything interesting, any trace of evidence that - might clear up the mystery?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘There was apparently nothing in the rooms except the ordinary furniture - of an ordinary lodging. In the bedroom a bed, a dressing-table, a - washstand, a small table, a small wardrobe, two chairs, a small carpet, a - few framed prints, and some nails behind the door. Nothing that could be - called evidence. In the sitting-room—rather more elaborately - furnished—were a dining-table, six chairs, an easy-chair, a - firescreen, a large carpet, two footstools, a small sideboard, an old - “Canterbury,” a mirror, some oleographs framed in German gold, and a few - vases on the mantelpiece. Here is one of the vases.’ - </p> - <p> - Mr. Oakley jumped from the table and took from Simon Lock’s own - mantelpiece a small vase, whose intruding presence Simon Lock had not - noticed there. Mr. Oakley handed it carefully to Mr. Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘Do you notice anything peculiar about it?’ he asked. - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock examined the vase attentively. It was in the shape of a - cylinder, about seven inches high and three inches in diameter, and - evidently a Staffordshire imitation of classic pottery. The ground-colour - of the exterior was a brilliant red, and on this red were depicted several - classic figures in white, with black outlines. Round the top edge the vase - had been gilded. The interior surface of the vase was highly glazed. - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ said Simon Lock, ‘I see nothing peculiar about it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Neither did I at first, sir,’ said Mr. Oakley; ‘but see here.’ - </p> - <p> - He wetted the end of his finger, and drew from the interior of the vase a - roll of stiffish white writing-paper. - </p> - <p> - ‘That roll of paper,’ he said, ‘must have been dropped into the vase, - whereupon it widened out till it filled the vase. The width of the paper - happened to be exactly the height of the vase, and so the paper looked - exactly like the internal surface of the vase. The resemblance would - deceive almost anyone. I thought, as you did, that the vase was absolutely - empty, but it was not.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And the paper?’ asked Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘The paper,’ said Mr. Oakley, holding the strangely hidden document in his - hand, ‘is double, as you see. On the inside it is filled with small - writing, very small writing, and the signature is that of Featherstone. I - have read it, and I have brought it here as a surprise for you—I - hope a pleasant surprise. Hence what you were pleased to call my devilish - merry humour.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Give it me,’ said Simon Lock briefly. - </p> - <p> - His voice trembled. - </p> - <p> - ‘Here it is, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock took the paper, and began to read with difficulty. - </p> - <p> - ‘Turn another light on,’ he said, and Mr. Oakley obeyed. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XIV—FEATHERSTONE’S RECITAL - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd this is what - Mr. Simon Lock read, while Mr. Oakley watched his master’s face. The - calligraphy of the document was miraculously neat and small, and the thing - had all the appearance of a declaration formally made: - </p> - <p> - ‘Statement of me, Robert John Dalrymple Featherstone, made on the day - before my death. (Here followed the date.) - </p> - <p> - ‘This statement is intended to be perfectly plain and simple. I put down - facts as they occur to me in the most straightforward possible way. I have - never before in my life undertaken any sort of literary composition, - beyond letters to acquaintances. My parents dying when I was a boy, and me - being an only child, I have had no relatives; nor have I ever had an - intimate friend. I do not know why I am at the trouble to write out this - statement now. I only know that I am compelled to make it by an instinct, - or an impulse, which overpowers my ordinary common-sense. It cannot be a - matter of any importance that the world should understand the - circumstances under which I am led to commit suicide. The world will not - care. And, on the other hand, this statement may work harm, or at least - annoyance, to one whom I love. Nevertheless I must write it. Everyone, - perhaps, who commits suicide feels this tremendous desire to explain to - the world the reasons of his act—that act for which there is no - remedy, that act which he knows, if he is a Christian, must involve him in - eternal remorse. - </p> - <p> - ‘As I write I have a sort of feeling that what I put down may be printed - in the newspapers. This feeling causes me to want to write unnaturally, in - a strained and showy measure. I shall try to avoid this. All my life I - have lived quiet and retired. This was not because I was modest. I am not - more modest than other mediocre men. It was because I was shy and awkward - and reserved by nature in the presence of others. When I am alone I feel - bumptious, audacious; I feel like a popular actor. - </p> - <p> - ‘But let me begin. - </p> - <p> - ‘My age is fifty-six. For thirty years I have been in the service of the - British and Scottish Banking Corporation, Limited. For eight years before - that I was in the service of a small private bank in Northamptonshire. I - have always served the British and Scottish faithfully, to the best of my - ability. Yet after thirty years I was only a cashier in a suburban branch - with a salary of two hundred a year—such an income as many a more - fortunate man spends on cigars and neckties. I do not, however, blame - anyone for this. I do not blame myself. I realize clearly that I am a very - mediocre man, and deserved nothing better. I never had any talent for - banking. I never had any talent for anything. I became a bank clerk - through the persuasion and influence of a distant uncle. I agreed with him - that it was an honourable and dignified vocation. It has suited me. I got - used to the official duties. I soon learnt how to live within my income. I - had no vicious tastes—no tastes of any sort. I had no social gifts. - I merely did my work conscientiously. My evenings I spent reading the - papers and periodicals and smoking. I have smoked two ounces of Old Judge - per week regularly for five-and-twenty years. I have never smoked before - lunch except during my annual fortnight at the seaside. Every morning at - breakfast I have read the <i>Standard</i>. My political opinions have - never varied. - </p> - <p> - ‘Thus my life has been one of absolute sameness. There was no joy in it - except the satisfaction of regular habits, and there was no sorrow, until - last year but one (May 28th), when Miss Juana Craig walked into the office - at Kilburn. - </p> - <p> - ‘She said, “Is my father in his office?” - </p> - <p> - ‘I did not know her, had never seen her before, but I guessed at once that - she was the daughter of Mr. Raphael Craig, the manager of our branch. I - say she said, “Is my father in his office?” Nothing beyond those words, - and yet they had the same effect on me as if they had been the most - magnificent piece of oratory. I was literally struck dumb with emotion. - There was something peculiar in her rich voice that overcame me. She was - obliged to repeat the question. - </p> - <p> - ‘At last I said, “Miss Craig, I presume. No; Mr. Craig is not in, but he - will be in shortly.” ‘I stammered this as though I had been repeating a - badly-learnt lesson. - </p> - <p> - ‘She said, “Then I will wait in his room, if I may.” - </p> - <p> - ‘The way she said those last three words, “if I may,” made me feel dizzy. - There was a sort of appeal in them. Of course I knew it was only - politeness—formal politeness—yet I was deeply touched by it. - And I felt ashamed that this beautiful girl should, in a way, have to beg - a favour from old me. - </p> - <p> - ‘I said, “With pleasure.” And then I took her into Mr. Craig’s room, and - she sat down, and said what wet weather we were having, and I tried to - talk to her. But she was too beautiful. I could not help thinking all the - time that my hair was grey, and my moustache part grey and part sandy, and - that I had my office coat on, with paper shields over my wrist-bands, and - that I was only five feet two inches in height. At last I came out of the - room, and as I did so all the clerks looked at me, laughing, and I blushed - violently. I do not remember ever blushing before. - </p> - <p> - ‘One clerk said jokingly, “Hello, Feather (they called me Feather), what - ha’ you been up to in there?” - </p> - <p> - ‘If I had been a bigger man I would have knocked him down. - </p> - <p> - ‘I had never had anything to do with women, except, in a purely business - way, with our lady customers. Our lady customers all liked having their - cheques cashed, etc., by me, because I was always so strictly polite to - them. But, strange to say, I could not be polite to Miss Craig, though - never before had I wanted so badly to be polite to any woman. - </p> - <p> - ‘After that day Miss Craig seemed to call every day, or nearly every day, - for her father, just after closing time in the afternoon. She was on a - motor-car, and they went off together up towards Edgware, Mr. Craig having - a house in the country near Dunstable. Sometimes I came out on to the - pavement to see them off. Once or twice I waved good-bye to them, and once - I actually kissed my hand to Miss Juana. It was a very daring thing to do, - and after I had done it I wished I had not! done it, but I could not help - doing it. She did not take offence, and the next day she was more charming - than ever. She is the sweetest, most womanly creature that God ever made. - My wonder is that the other clerks did not seem to see this. They never - went further than to say that she was a pretty girl. I despised them. I - despise them now more than ever. - </p> - <p> - ‘One Friday afternoon Mr. Craig said, “Featherstone, have you anything - particular to do this week-end?” I said that I had not. He said, “Well, - will you come up with us to-morrow, and spend the week-end with us?” - </p> - <p> - ‘Before I could answer anything Miss Juana said, “Yes, do, Mr. - Featherstone, there’s a dear man. We should love to have you.” - </p> - <p> - ‘The charming and adorable creature condescended to joke. I said, “I - gladly accept your very kind invitation.” - </p> - <p> - ‘So I went up and stayed at their house till the Monday morning. Miss - Juana drove down on the motor-car, me sitting by her side, and Mr. Craig - behind. It was very enjoyable. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig himself was very polite to me during my visit, and so was Miss - Teresa, Miss Juana’s sister. Miss Teresa drove us back to London on the - Monday morning. And for this I was sorry; not that I have a word to say - against Miss Teresa, who is a pretty enough girl, and amiable. Just before - we started on the journey to London Mr. Craig put a small but heavy - portmanteau under the back seat of the motor-car. I asked him what that - was, merely from idle curiosity, and he said, “Money, my lad.” The two - ladies were not about I laughed, thinking he was joking. But that day he - called me into his private room and said, in a very ordinary tone of - voice, “Featherstone, here is fifty pounds in new silver. Pay it into my - private account.” - </p> - <p> - ‘“Yes, sir,” I said, not thinking. It was the luncheon hour, and nearly - all the clerks were out. I casually examined the silver. Of course I can - distinguish a bad coin in a moment, almost by instinct. I seem to be - mysteriously warned of the approach of a bad coin. But this money was all - right. The next morning Miss Juana called in, and she and I had a chat. I - liked her more and more. And, either I was an insufferably conceited ass, - or she liked me. I knew there was more than thirty years’ difference - between us. But I said to myself, “Pooh! what is thirty years? A man is as - young as he feels.” I knew that I had only an income of two hundred a - year, which might rise to two hundred and twenty-five or two hundred and - fifty; but I said to myself that thousands of people married happily on - less than that. I felt that it was impudent on my part to aspire to the - hand of this angel; but I also said to myself that it was always impudence - that succeeded. - </p> - <p> - ‘Anyhow, I was madly and deeply in love, I, bank cashier, aged fifty odd. - </p> - <p> - ‘Two hours after Miss Juana had called Mr. Craig called me into his room - and said again in a very ordinary tone of voice: “Featherstone, here is - another fifty pounds in silver. Pay it into my private account.” As - before, the money lay in piles on his desk. “Yes, sir,” I said. I thought - it very strange, but my mind was preoccupied with Miss Juana, and he was - Miss Juana’s father, so I said nothing else. Again, most of the other - clerks were out when I filled up the slip and put the cash into the - drawers. All that day I thought of Miss Juana. Let me say now that I am - convinced she had no part in the plot, for it was a plot, which Mr. Craig - laid against me. - </p> - <p> - ‘At the end of that week Mr. Craig had paid over two hundred pounds’ worth - of new silver into his private account, and these payments continued. In a - fortnight I was asked down to the Craigs’ country house again. I cannot - describe my courtship of Miss Juana. I find my statement is getting too - long. But in any event I could not describe it. It was the most precious, - the only precious fragment of my life. The only drawback to my timid - happiness was Mr. Craig’s attitude to me—a sort of insinuating - attitude, quite at variance with the usual style of this powerfully-minded - and very reticent man. The payments of new silver continued. In a business - of the magnitude of our Kilburn branch the silver was, of course, - distributed in the ordinary routine of affairs without special notice - being taken of it. - </p> - <p> - ‘One day I proposed to Miss Juana. It was a terrible moment for me. To - this hour I do not know how I dared to do it. To my inconceivable - astonishment and joy Miss Juana said: “You honour me, Mr. Featherstone. I - am a poor girl. My father is not rich. I do not love you, but I like you, - and I esteem you. I accept your hand.” - </p> - <p> - ‘Later I said to Mr. Craig: “Mr. Craig, I have asked your daughter Juana - to be my wife, and she has done me the honour to consent. Do you also - consent?” - </p> - <p> - ‘He said in reply: “My dear Featherstone, you will pardon me, but, of - course, I know the amount of your salary. Have you any other resources?” I - said that I had none. - </p> - <p> - ‘The interview grew strangely complex. I see now that he handled me with - consummate skill and adroitness. It came to this. He said: - </p> - <p> - “Assist me in a scheme of mine which is approaching completion, and when - it is complete I will give you twenty thousand pounds. But you will be - bound to secrecy.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I said to him: “Is your scheme in any way contrary to the law?” - </p> - <p> - ‘He said: “Frankly, it is. But, Feather-stone, you are in love, and there - is no crime in my scheme.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I admit that Mr. Craig’s offer of twenty thousand pounds dazzled me at - first, especially as I began instantly to perceive that my life’s - happiness would depend on my acceptance of it. You may ask what right a - man aged fifty odd has to talk of a life’s happiness—a man who - probably has not more than ten years to live. Let me suggest that it is - impossible for any man, however old, not to believe that he will survive - for an indefinitely long period, unless he be actually on his death-bed. - </p> - <p> - ‘Moreover, I was profoundly in love. I loved with the intense and - restrained passion of, which only a middle-aged man in love for the first - time is capable. No young man, with the facile ardours of youth, could - appreciate my feelings. Be that as it may—and I have no wish at this - solemn hour to attempt to excuse myself—my demeanour certainly gave - Mr. Craig the impression that I had no objection to becoming his - confederate. His face showed that he was pleased—that a weight had - been lifted from his mind. - </p> - <p> - ‘He said: “Give me your oath that you will disclose nothing of what I am - about to tell you.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “But suppose I do not see my way——” - </p> - <p> - ‘He interrupted me very grimly: “What does that matter? Anyhow, I presume - you can see your way to hold your tongue?” - </p> - <p> - ‘So, not without qualms, I gave him an oath of secrecy. He then told me - that he had been coining silver for many years—that his object had - been to coin a hundred thousand pounds’ worth, and that he was then at the - end of his long task. - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “But you just now told me that you had not involved yourself in - any crime; surely to utter false money is a crime?” - </p> - <p> - ‘He said with sudden anger: “It is not false money; it is perfectly good - money. It is exactly the silver produced by the Mint, and neither you nor - anyone could tell the difference.” - </p> - <p> - ‘He then explained to me how it was profitable for him, owing to the very - low price of silver, to make real money, good in every respect. He - finished by saying that no one was robbed by his device. - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “Excuse me, but the Government is robbed, and, since the - Government represents the public, the public is robbed. You are robbing - the public. Besides, coining is a crime.” - </p> - <p> - ‘He burst out: “Only in the eyes of the law. It is not a real crime.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I said, as quietly as I could: “That may be; real or unreal, it is a - crime.” - </p> - <p> - ‘He went on, apparently not noticing my observation: “Anyhow, I find it - necessary to put this money into circulation at a far quicker rate than I - have previously achieved. The years are slipping by. I have by me vast - accumulations of silver money, and I must negotiate them. I will tell you - my object, Featherstone: it is to take a just revenge upon a scoundrel - who, more than twenty years ago—before her birth—cast a shadow—a - terrible shadow—over the life of the girl whom you love. Will not - that move you?” - </p> - <p> - ‘I exclaimed: “Juana?” - </p> - <p> - ‘He said: “Yes, Juana and her sister and their poor mother. I have lived - till now only to carry out that scheme—only to see this man at my - feet ruined and begging for a mercy which I shall not vouchsafe.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I own that I was moved to sympathy by the fearful earnestness of Mr. - Craig. I asked him who the man was. - </p> - <p> - ‘He replied: “That I will not tell you, nor will I tell you his sin, nor - the precise nature of my revenge, until you agree to join me. Surely you, - as the professed lover of Juana, will not hesitate for a moment?” - </p> - <p> - ‘But I did hesitate. - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “First, let me ask you one or two questions.” - </p> - <p> - ‘He said coldly and bitterly: “Ask.” - </p> - <p> - ‘So I asked: “You want me to help you in passing this coin which has not - come from the Royal Mint?” - </p> - <p> - ‘He replied with eagerness: “Yes. I want one or two accounts opened at - other banks, and certain operations put into action with financiers and - specie dealers. Also, with your help, I can do a lot at our own bank.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “It seems to me you have already done something there.” - </p> - <p> - ‘He laughed, and outlined to me the various means, all very ingenious, by - which he had already disposed of a lot of silver. - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “Another question: Am I to understand that if I decline to join - you you will withhold your consent to my marriage with i your daughter?” - </p> - <p> - ‘He answered: “If now, at this stage, you decline to join me, I would see - both you and Juana dead before I allowed you to marry.” - </p> - <p> - ‘His manner was ferocious. I could see that he was absolutely absorbed—that - his whole moral being was cankered by this life-long idea of a mysterious - revenge. And though I did not allow him to guess the fact, I was annoyed - at his attempt to intimidate me. I am not to be intimidated. - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “I will think it over, and give you my answer shortly.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I saw Juana privately, told her that her father had not given me a - definite answer, and returned to London in order that I might think the - matter over with the more calmness. In the same house with that angelic - presence it was impossible for me to think at all. I deem it right to - state that I believed—and still believe—that Mr. Craig was - telling me the truth, and that he was of sound mind. I truly believed—and - still believe—that some man, the object of Mr. Craig’s hate, had - deeply wronged Juana, her sister and her mother, and that Mr. Craig was - animated in all that he did by a lofty conception of human justice. I - guessed, further, that there was probably no means by which Mr. Craig - could bring this man, whoever he might be, before the tribunals of the law - (how many crimes slip through the wide meshes of the law!), and that - therefore he had no alternative but a private vengeance. The idea of - vengeance on behalf of Juana—that beloved being—appealed - strongly to my deepest feelings. - </p> - <p> - ‘Nevertheless, on mature consideration, I felt that I could not become a - party to Mr. Craig’s scheme. I have always tried to live an honest life, - and I have never accepted the sophism that the end justifies the means. In - three days I returned to the house near Dunstable and told Mr. Craig my - decision. He was enraged. - </p> - <p> - ‘He said: “Then you prefer to give up Juana?” - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “Do you think you are acting fairly in insisting that no man - shall be Juana’s husband unless he consents to commit a crime against the - law?” - </p> - <p> - ‘He said: “Bosh!” - </p> - <p> - ‘Before such an argument I was dumb. I saw more and more clearly that Mr. - Craig was what is called a monomaniac, and a very determined and obdurate - one. - </p> - <p> - ‘After further and useless words, I left him and sought Juana. - </p> - <p> - ‘I said to her: “Miss Juana, your father forbids us to marry.” - </p> - <p> - ‘She replied in a strange tone: “My father is a harsh man, Robert. He can - be very cruel. Although I feel that he loves Teresa and myself - passionately, you can have no idea of the life we live here. Sometimes it - is terrible. Teresa is my father’s favourite, and I—I sometimes hate - him. I hate him now. Perhaps because I cannot comprehend him. Robert, I - will marry you without his consent.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I cannot describe my emotions at that moment. Her use of my Christian - name thrilled me through and through. There was something in the tone of - her voice which caused strange and exquisite vibrations in me. I thank God - now that I had strength to behave as an English gentleman should behave. - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “Miss Juana, your kindness overwhelms me. But I should be - unworthy of your love if I took advantage of it. I am an old-fashioned - man, with old-fashioned views, and I could not marry a lady in the face of - her parent’s opposition.” - </p> - <p> - ‘Without a word, she ran out of the house. I saw that she was crying. A - few minutes afterwards I saw her galloping wildly down the road on her - strawberry-roan mare. She was the most magnificent and superb horsewoman I - have ever set eyes on. - </p> - <p> - ‘The incident, as the phrase goes, was closed. - </p> - <p> - I had enjoyed the acquaintance of Miss Juana for nearly twelve months. I - enjoyed it no longer. The relations between Mr. Craig and myself resumed - their old formality. He was nothing but the bank manager; I was nothing - but the cashier. The pity was that I was bound to secrecy as regards his - scheme; and I saw that his scheme was maturing. Without the slightest - scruple, he made use of me to aid in disposing of his silver through the - bank. He could depend on my honour, though my honour made a criminal of - me. Things got worse and worse. His methods grew bolder and bolder. A year - passed. One day he told another clerk in the office that a great-uncle had - died and left him a hundred thousand pounds in new silver. He turned to - me, who happened to be close by. - </p> - <p> - ‘“A strange fellow! I have mentioned his peculiarities to you before now, - have I not, Featherstone?” - </p> - <p> - ‘Scarcely knowing what I said, I answered, “Yes.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I was thus by an audacious stroke made a party to his dodge for - explaining away the extraordinary prevalence of new silver. Previously to - this I had noticed that he was drawing large cheques in favour of a firm - of stockbrokers. - </p> - <p> - ‘At length I could stand it no more. I went into his private room and - said: “Mr. Craig, either you must cease your illegal proceedings, or you - must release me from my oath of secrecy.” - </p> - <p> - ‘He said flatly: “I shall do neither.” - </p> - <p> - ‘Of course I could see that my request was foolish. He had me between his - thumb and finger. - </p> - <p> - ‘I then said: “Very well, Mr. Craig, there is one alternative left to me—I - resign my position in the bank. You force me to do this.” - </p> - <p> - ‘He said: “As you wish.” - </p> - <p> - ‘He was relentless. So I was cast on the world, at my age. I had no hope - of obtaining another situation. But what else could I do? By remaining in - the service of the bank, and allowing Mr. Craig to make it the channel for - disposing of false money, I was betraying my trust to the bank. The truth - was I ought to have done a year before what I did then. - </p> - <p> - ‘My savings amounted to about a hundred pounds. - </p> - <p> - ‘Soon after this final step I discovered, to my equal grief and - astonishment, that Miss Juana had left her father’s house—doubtless - he had practically driven her forth—and was earning her living in a - travelling circus. I ascertained where the circus was, and I had an - interview with Miss Juana one night after the performance. Miss Juana was - in her circus-dress, a curiously showy riding-habit, and she had paint on - her dear face. The interview was inexpressibly painful to me. I cannot - narrate it in full. - </p> - <p> - ‘I said: “Miss Juana, marry me. I implore you! Never mind your father’s - consent. Anything to save you from this. I implore you to marry me! I love - you more than ever.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I did not tell her that I had no means of livelihood now. I had - absolutely forgotten the fact. - </p> - <p> - ‘She replied: “Why, Mr. Featherstone, I am getting an honest living.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I said again: “Marry me.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I could not argue. - </p> - <p> - ‘She said: “A year ago I would have married you. I liked you. But I cannot - marry you now.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I asked madly: “Why?” - </p> - <p> - ‘She replied: “Things have happened in the meantime.” - </p> - <p> - ‘I returned to London last night and bought a revolver. It is my intention - to kill myself in Mr. Craig’s own room while he is out at lunch. This - seems to me proper, but I may be mad. Who knows? My brain may be unhinged. - As for my oath of secrecy, Raphael Craig cannot demand secrecy from a dead - man. If this document leads to his punishment, let it. I care not. And - Juana, as she says herself, is getting an honest living. She is - independent of her terrible father. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is half-past one o’clock in the morning. - </p> - <p> - In twelve hours I shall be in the beyond. I will place this statement in a - vase on the mantelpiece. Let who will find it. - </p> - <p> - ‘Given under my dying hand, - </p> - <p> - ‘Robert J. Dalrymple Featherstone.’ - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - When Simon Lock had finished the perusal of this document he passed his - hand before his eyes. The dead man’s handwriting, although perfectly - clear, was so fine that even the delicate shades of Simon Lock’s electric - chandelier had not been able to prevent the august financier from feeling - the effects of the strain; but the condition of his eyes was a trifle. He - experienced a solid and satisfying joy—such joy as he had not felt - for a very long time. - </p> - <p> - ‘You have read it?’ he questioned Oakley. - </p> - <p> - ‘I took that liberty, sir,’ said Oakley, who was now the old Oakley again—formal, - dry, submissive. - </p> - <p> - ‘And what did you think of it, Oakley?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I thought, sir, that it might prove useful to you.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Did you assume that I was the unnamed man against whom this wonderful - Raphael Craig is directing what he calls his vengeance?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Ah!’ breathed Simon Lock. ‘I’ve just got this in time.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You think that you have got it in time, sir?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, my young friend. It is a nice question whether it constitutes legal - evidence, but anyhow, it constitutes a lever which I think I can use - pretty effectively upon Mr. Craig.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Then you deem it valuable, sir?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘What do you think it is worth to you, sir?’ - </p> - <p> - Oakley looked peculiarly at his master, who paused. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, Oakley,’ he said at length, ‘since you put it in that way, it is - worth, we’ll say, a hundred pounds to me. I’ll draw you a cheque. It will - pay the expenses of your summer holiday.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Oakley impassively. ‘May I just glance at the - document again, sir? There was one point——’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock handed him the dead man’s message. Oakley took it, folded it - carefully, and placed it in his pocket. - </p> - <p> - ‘What the devil are you doing?’ Simon Lock demanded angrily. - </p> - <p> - ‘I was venturing to think, sir, that, after all, the document belonged to - me by right of discovery. And since I have the misfortune to differ from - you as to its monetary value——’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock jumped up, and then he looked rather cautiously at Mr. Oakley’s - somewhat muscular frame. - </p> - <p> - ‘Look here——’ Simon Lock began imperatively. - </p> - <p> - ‘In my hip-pocket I have a revolver, Mr. Lock,’ said Mr. Oakley. ‘Force, - therefore, would be a mistake.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I see,’ said Simon Lock. ‘Well, what do you think the thing worth?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Ten thousand pounds,’ said Mr. Oakley imperturbably. ‘I will hand it over - to you in exchange for a promissory note for that amount payable at three - months.’ - </p> - <p> - There was a long pause. Simon Lock had the precious gift of knowing when - he was beaten. - </p> - <p> - ‘I accept,’ he said. - </p> - <p> - ‘Thank you; here is the document,’ said Oakley when he had received the - promissory note. - </p> - <p> - After Simon Lock had transferred the paper to his own pocket he remarked: - </p> - <p> - ‘Oakley, the position which you occupy here is quite beneath your high - capabilities. I dismiss you. I will write you out a cheque for a month’s - wages. Leave the house within an hour.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘With pleasure, sir,’ said Mr. Oakley, exactly as he had accepted the - invitation to dinner. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XV—ARRIVAL OF SIMON - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t Queen’s Farm, - Hockliffe, the excitations of the terrible evening on which Juana faced - her father, and on which Richard and Teresa were betrothed, seemed to have - exhausted the actors in those trying scenes. Only Teresa herself - maintained her spirits through a night of sleeplessness, and Teresa’s eyes - disclosed a simple and profound happiness of the soul, which proved how - well the forced engagement with Richard suited her inclinations. As for - Richard, he, too, was happy in the betrothal, but his experience of the - world—a thousandfold greater than Teresa’s—was responsible for - forebodings that filled him with apprehension. He could not but feel that - disaster—perhaps immediate disaster—waited upon the schemes of - Raphael Craig, those schemes of whose success the old man was so proudly - confident Richard guessed, naturally, that Raphael Craig was waging war on - Simon Lock, and his common-sense predicted with assurance that in this - struggle of the weak against the strong the strong would crush and the - weak would be crushed. The exact nature of Raphael Craig’s plan, of which - Richard was still in ignorance, seemed to the young man to be a matter of - comparative unimportance. He perceived, at any rate, that the campaign was - a financial one. That was enough; in the realm of finance Simon Lock had - long been peerless, and though, as the newspaper hinted, Simon was - temporarily at a disadvantage, it was absurd to pretend for an instant - that Raphael Craig, undistinguished, even unknown, could win. - </p> - <p> - So ran the course of Richard’s thoughts as he lay resting during the early - hours of the morning on the Chesterfield in the drawing-room. Raphael - Craig had retired to his room. Teresa had also retired. Juana and Bridget - were attending on the stricken detective. Each had expressed her intention - of sitting up all night. Whenever Richard’s somewhat somnolent meditations - turned in the direction of the detective he could not help thinking that - here, in this sick man, helpless, hurt, delirious, was the instrument of - Simon Lock’s ultimate success. Nolan knew, or Nolan shrewdly surmised now, - that Raphael Craig had grossly outraged the Coinage Acts. Nolan had - doubtless collected a sufficient body of evidence at least to secure a - committal for trial, and so it was an indubitable fact to be faced that, - immediately Nolan recovered, or partially recovered, the forces of the law - would be set in motion against Craig—against Craig, the father of - his betrothed. Then—Queen’s Farm would doubtless explode like a - bomb! - </p> - <p> - But was Raphael Craig the father of his betrothed? Had Juana lied on the - previous night, or had the old man lied? Here were questions which Richard - preferred to shirk rather than to answer. - </p> - <p> - A much more important question was, What would Raphael Craig be likely to - do in regard to Nolan? As things stood, Nolan was at his mercy—helpless - in his house. Certainly Craig would by this time have arrived at the - conclusion that instantly Nolan was enabled to leave the house his own - ruin would occur. Richard did not believe that Craig’s scheme could - possibly succeed after Craig was clapped in prison as a coiner. He, - indeed, suspected that Craig had only made this boast in order to dispel - any suspicions which Richard might entertain as to the bodily safety of - Nolan within the precincts of Queen’s Farm. - </p> - <p> - Yet it came to that: Richard was not without fear that the old man might - attempt to murder Nolan. Nolan dead, and his body disposed of, Craig was - safe. It was a frightful thought, but Raphael Craig’s demeanour whenever - he referred to his life-long scheme of vengeance gave at least some excuse - for it. - </p> - <p> - At eight o’clock there was a tap at the drawing-room door. Richard jumped - up and came out of the room. Bridget stood before him. - </p> - <p> - ‘Miss Teresa up?’ he asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ said the housekeeper, ‘and not likely to be yet, the darling! I came - to give ye a hint, Mr. Redgrave, that ye might do worse than seek a - breakfast down in the village, at the White Horse.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Micky, ye mean? Better—though the spalpeen doesn’t deserve God’s - goodness nor Miss Juana’s loving care.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig up?’ he asked further ‘No,’ said Bridget. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Richard, ‘I’ll go down to the village, and come back again in - a couple of hours.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How’s the patient?’ he asked. - </p> - <p> - He passed quietly out of the house. He had, however, not the slightest - intention of going down to the village. Determined to ignore the fact that - he had been caught as a spy once, and the risk that he might be caught - again, he turned to the left as soon as he was out of the garden and crept - under the garden wall up to the sheds, which he cautiously entered. Safely - within the range of buildings, he soon found an outlook therefrom which - commanded a view of the house—a vantage-point whence he could see - without being seen. - </p> - <p> - Nothing unusual occurred. Indeed, save that Bridget came forth to attend - to the mares, having doubtless been instructed to do so by Teresa, nothing - occurred at all till a little after nine o’clock. Then Mr. Craig issued - quickly out of the house, went along the boreen, and down towards the - village. At a discreet distance Richard followed him, for he deemed it his - bounden-duty to keep an eye on Raphael Craig until Nolan, the detective, - should have departed from the house. It was not pleasant for him to think - of his prospective father-in-law as a potential murderer, but he had no - alternative save to face the possibility. It is a full mile from Queen’s - Farm to Hockliffe village. Mr. Craig, however, walked quickly, and the - distance was soon accomplished. The old man went into the general store, - which is also the post-office—a tiny place crammed with the produce - of the East and of the West. After a moment’s hesitation, Richard also - walked towards the post-office. When he reached it, Mr. Craig was in the - act of paying for a telegram. - </p> - <p> - ‘Hullo! Good-morning,’ said Raphael Craig blithely. ‘What are you doing - here?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I came for some stamps,’ Richard answered. - </p> - <p> - ‘Hum! They said you’d gone down to the village for breakfast. What with - one thing and another, our household arrangements are somewhat upset, I’m - afraid. Ta-ta!’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig left the shop, apparently quite incurious as to Richard’s - doings or plans for the day. Richard was decidedly reassured by the man’s - demeanour. He seemed as sane, as calm, as collected as a bank manager - could be. And yet—last night! - </p> - <p> - Richard breakfasted at the hostelry of the White Horse, and then walked - slowly back to Queen’s Farm. As he approached the house he met Richard - Craig again going down to the village. Four times that day the old man - went down himself to the village post-office to despatch telegrams, and he - openly stated that he was going to despatch telegrams. - </p> - <p> - Teresa was in the orchard, and Richard went to her. He said that he did - not see how he could stay longer in the house, that he ought to return to - London, and yet that he scarcely cared to leave. - </p> - <p> - To his surprise, Teresa appeared agitated and distressed at the mere idea - of his leaving. - </p> - <p> - ‘Don’t go at present,’ she urged him. ‘Stay at least another twenty-four - hours. Just think how I am fixed. That man ill and delirious—by the - way, Juana won’t leave his side—and father and Juana not on speaking - terms. There is no knowing what may happen. We needn’t pretend to each - other, Dick, that there isn’t something very peculiar and mysterious about - father. I dare say you know more than I do, and I shan’t ask questions. I - don’t want to know, Dick, so long as you’re here. But do stay a bit. Stay - till something turns up.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Till something turns up?’ He repeated her phrase. ‘What do you mean?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I don’t know,’ she said simply; ‘but stay.’ - </p> - <p> - He kissed her. - </p> - <p> - That night Richard was provided with a bed, but he found himself unable to - sleep on it. About the middle of the night—or so it seemed to him—there - was a rap on his door. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Redgrave.’ - </p> - <p> - The voice was Juana’s. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘Anything the matter?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Can you come and speak to Mr. Nolan? He wants to speak to you, and - nothing else will satisfy him.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard rose and dressed, and came out on the landing, where a lamp was - burning. Juana, fully dressed, her eyes ringed with fatigue, stood waiting - for him. She beckoned him down the side-passage, and he entered the room - occupied by the sick man. - </p> - <p> - ‘Shut the door,’ the sick man commanded in a febrile voice. - </p> - <p> - As though it had been previously arranged between them, Juana kept out of - the room. Richard and the detective were alone together. - </p> - <p> - ‘You’re looking better,’ Richard said. - </p> - <p> - ‘Don’t talk so loud,’ said Nolan. ‘That old scoundrel sleeps next door. - Yes, I’m better,’ he went on rather wearily, shifting the position of a - pillow, ‘thanks to nursing. I wish to say something to you. You know a - good deal about my business up here. You’ve been on the same business - yourself. Well, look here: if any questions are asked, I don’t want you to - know anything about what I’ve done or what I’ve found out.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Whatever do you mean?’ Richard asked. ‘Oh dear!’ the other said - pettishly; ‘can’t you understand? I mean down at Scotland Yard. If any of - ‘em should come to you, you know, say nothing. Fact is, I’m going to let - the old man off, if I can—I’m bound to let him off. It’s all got to - be hushed up, if Mr. Nolan, Esquire, can manage it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Why?’ asked Richard calmly. - </p> - <p> - ‘Why did you chuck the job up?’ returned Nolan. ‘Can’t I follow your - example?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Do you mean that you—er—Miss Juana?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Precisely,’ said Nolan. ‘I met her down at Limerick months ago—long - before the death of old Featherstone—when I was engaged on inquiries - about old Craig’s antecedents, to try if I couldn’t throw any light on the - matter of his treasure of new silver, which has interested the police for - a year past. I met her. I hadn’t the least notion that she was his - daughter. I was afraid that I should never see her again. And then, when I - woke up in the cursed little room here and found her bending over me—by - Heaven, it was too much! For the time, I do believe, it made me worse. She - has told me a lot to-day. I haven’t been delirious since early this - morning. Oh yes, Redgrave, I’ve got to chuck it. I wouldn’t harm that - woman, or anything that belonged to her—not to be Chief of Police in - Paris! You and I must put our heads together and concoct a tale that will - satisfy the people in London.’ - </p> - <p> - The door opened, and Juana entered with a firm step. - </p> - <p> - ‘Time’s up,’ she said, looking at the man in bed. ‘I gave you five - minutes, and you’ve had ten. Good-night, Mr. Redgrave—and thanks.’ - </p> - <p> - Here indeed was spirited nursing. - </p> - <p> - Richard retired to his own room, intending to think things over, but - instead of thinking, for some reason or other, he slept heavily till nine - o’clock. Then he dressed and descended, and, seeing no one about, went - into the garden. Almost at the same moment a light trap drove up to the - garden-gate. Telling the driver not to wait, a man got down from the - vehicle. It was Mr. Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘Ah! Mr. Redgrave,’ said Simon Lock, ‘you seem to be at home here. Can you - tell me if Mr. Craig is at home?’ - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVI—THE INTERVIEW - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t the same moment - as Simon Lock spoke a window opened in the upper story of Queen’s Farm, - and Raphael Craig showed his head. Raphael Craig was fully dressed, and - his face had the freshness of morning. Richard looked apprehensively from - one to the other of these old men and old enemies, expecting from either - or both an outburst of wrath—such a terrible outburst as twenty - years might have prepared; but nothing of the kind happened. - </p> - <p> - ‘Good-morning, Mr. Lock,’ said Raphael Craig blandly. - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock, equally with Richard, was astonished by the mildness of this - greeting. - </p> - <p> - ‘Good-day to you,’ said Simon Lock. ‘You do not seem surprised to see me,’ - he added. - </p> - <p> - ‘Not in the least,’ said Craig. ‘On the contrary, I was expecting you.’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock started. - </p> - <p> - ‘Ah!’ was all he said. - </p> - <p> - ‘Excuse me one instant,’ said Craig. ‘I will be down immediately to - welcome you to my house. You will, I trust, take breakfast with us. And - you, too, Redgrave, will breakfast with us. Let me beg you not to run away - as you did yesterday morning.’ - </p> - <p> - The bank manager had positively turned courtier! - </p> - <p> - On his way down he intercepted Mrs. Bridget between the dining-room and - the kitchen, and told her to have breakfast ready for five within half an - hour. - </p> - <p> - ‘But——’ began Mrs. Bridget, raising her bony hands. - </p> - <p> - ‘For five,’ repeated Raphael Craig, ‘in half an hour.’ - </p> - <p> - Then he went forward, and invited Simon Lock to enter, and led him to the - drawing-room, and Richard also. His attitude towards his guests, though a - shade formal, was irreproachably hospitable. Anyone could see that Simon - Lock felt himself at a disadvantage. The great and desperate financier had - anticipated a reception utterly different; this suavity and benignity did - not fit in with the plan of campaign which he had schemed out, and he was - nonplussed. - </p> - <p> - Once he did manage to put in: - </p> - <p> - ‘I called to see you, Craig——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘After breakfast, I pray——’ the other cut him short. - </p> - <p> - A gong rang. Raphael Craig rose and opened the drawing-room door, and the - three men passed into the dining-room. Coffee, bacon, and eggs were on the - table. The two girls—Teresa in a light summer frock and Juana still - in her dark habit—stood by the mantelpiece. They were evidently in a - state of great curiosity as to the stranger, the rumour of whose advent - had reached them through Mrs. Bridget. Juana was, beyond question, - perturbed. The fact was that at Teresa’s instigation she had meant that - morning to approach her father amicably, and was fearful of the upshot. - Raphael Craig, however, cut short her suspense. He kissed both girls on - the forehead, and then said: - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Lock, let me introduce my daughter Juana, my daughter Teresa. My - dears, this is Mr. Simon Lock, who has run down to see me on a matter of - business, and will do us the honour of breakfasting with us.’ - </p> - <p> - The meal, despite the ordinariness of its service, had the deadly and - tremendous formality of a state dinner at Buckingham Palace. Conversation, - led judicially by the host himself, was kept up without a break, but Simon - Lock distinctly proved that the social arts were not his forte. The girls - talked timidly, like school misses on their best behaviour, while - Richard’s pose and Richard’s words were governed by more than his - characteristic caution. Only Raphael Craig seemed at ease, and the old man - appeared to take a ferocious but restrained delight in the unnatural - atmosphere which he had created. It was as if he saw written on every face - the expectation of some dreadful sequel, and rejoiced in those signs of - fear and dread. His eyes said: ‘Yes, I can see that you are all - desperately uncomfortable. It is well. You are afraid of something - happening, and you shall not be disappointed.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Now, girls,’ he said lightly, after the meal was finished, ‘go and amuse - yourselves, and don’t forget your poor patient upstairs.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You have someone ill in the house?’ Simon Lock ventured. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Craig; ‘a fool of a Scotland Yard detective who got himself - into trouble up here by ferreting about.’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock turned pale. - </p> - <p> - ‘He was nearly killed,’ Raphael Craig went on. ‘We are nursing him back to - life,’ The old man laughed. ‘And now for our business,’ he said, and - turned to Richard. ‘I will see Mr. Lock in the drawing-room, and I shall - ask you, Mr. Redgrave, to be present at our interview.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Is that necessary?’ asked Simon Lock pompously. - </p> - <p> - ‘I have omitted to tell you,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘that Mr. Richard - Redgrave is my prospective son-in-law, engaged to my daughter Teresa. I - have no secrets from him.’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock bowed. They returned to the drawing-room, and at a sign from - Raphael Craig Richard closed the door. - </p> - <p> - ‘Now, Mr. Lock,’ said Raphael Craig when they were seated, ‘what can I do - for you?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You said from your bedroom window that you were expecting me,’ Simon Lock - replied. ‘Therefore you are probably aware of the nature of my business, - since I have given you no warning of my arrival.’ - </p> - <p> - Mr. Lock’s face disclosed the fact that he had summoned all his faculties—and - he was a man of many faculties—to the task that lay before him. - Various things had irked and annoyed him that morning, but in order to - retain the mien of diplomacy he was compelled to seem to ignore them. - There could be no doubt, for example, that he bitterly resented the - presence of Richard at this interview, but what could he do save swallow - the affront? The whole situation was a humiliating one for Simon Lock, who - was much more accustomed to dictate terms than to have terms dictated to - him. Still, it was to his credit as a man of nerve and a man of resource - that he was able to adapt himself to unusual circumstances. He had a - triple feat to perform—to keep his dignity, to be diplomatic, and to - be firm. He had come with a precise end in view, and he was willing to - sacrifice everything to that end. Behold him, therefore, in the - drawing-room at Queen’s Farm—him, the demi-god of the City, trying - to show a pleasant and yet a formidable face under extraordinary trials. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is true,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘that I expected you. But it was my - instinct more than anything else that led me to expect you. You come, I - presume, about the shares of La Princesse Mine.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Exactly,’ said Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘You have contracted to sell more of these shares than you can supply, and - the price has risen?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Exactly,’ said Simon Lock, smiling cautiously. - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig was, so far, courtesy itself. - </p> - <p> - ‘And you wish to get the bargain cancelled?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I am prepared to pay for the accommodation.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And to get the bargain cancelled,’ Craig pursued, ‘you come to me.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I come to you,’ repeated Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yet you could have no direct knowledge that I had any influence over - these shares.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No direct knowledge,’ said Lock; ‘but an indirect knowledge. Perhaps,’ he - added, in a peculiar tone, ‘I know more than you guess.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘As for example?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Perhaps I could answer the question, which certainly demands an answer, - how you, a mere manager of a branch of our bank, in receipt of a not - excessive salary, found the money to become a power on the Westralian - market. As the chairman of the directors of the bank I have, I think, Mr. - Craig, the right to put that question.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You have first to prove that I indeed am a power on the Westralian - market.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The proof of that is in the mere fact that I—I—am here at the - present moment.’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig smiled. - </p> - <p> - ‘You are correct,’ he said. ‘That fact is a proof in itself. I admit that - I am a power. To save unnecessary words, I frankly admit that I hold La - Princesse Mine in the hollow of my hand. You have come to the proper - person, Mr. Lock. We meet at last. And am I to understand that one object - of your visit here is to discover how I became possessed of the means - which a manipulator of markets must possess?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I confess I should like to know from your own lips.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, Mr. Lock, I shall not tell you. It is no business of yours. The - sole fact that concerns you is that I am in a position to control this - particular market, not how I arrived at that position.’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig’s tone had suddenly become inimical, provocative, almost - insolent. - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock coughed. The moment had come. He said: - </p> - <p> - ‘On the night before his decease the late Mr. Featherstone, whose death we - all lament, wrote out a sort of confession——’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You are mistaken,’ said Raphael Craig, with absolute imperturbability; - ‘it was on the last night but one before his death. After writing it out, - he changed his mind about killing himself instantly. He came up here to - see me instead. He told me he had put everything on paper. He made an - urgent request, a very urgent request, to me to reconsider a certain - decision of mine. I declined to reconsider it. On the other hand, I - thoughtfully offered him a bed. He accepted it, left the next morning, and - killed himself. I merely mention these circumstances for the sake of - historical exactitude. I suppose you have somehow got hold of - Featherstone’s document.’ - </p> - <p> - At this point Richard rose and walked to the window. The frosty coldness, - the cynical carelessness, of Raphael Craig’s manner made him feel almost - ill. He was amazed at this revelation of the depth of the old man’s - purpose to achieve his design at no matter what cost. - </p> - <p> - ‘I have got hold of it—somehow,’ said Simon Lock. ‘You may judge - what I think of its value when I tell you that I paid ten thousand pounds - for it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Hum!’ murmured Craig. ‘What surprises me is that the police did not get - hold of it long ago. They must be very careless searchers. My opinion of - Scotland Yard is going down rapidly.’ He paused, and then continued: ‘It - was indiscreet of you, Mr. Lock, to pay ten thousand pounds for that - document. It is quite useless to you.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I fear you cannot be aware what is in it,’ said Simon Lock. ‘It is - indisputable evidence that during many years past you have been in the - habit of coining large quantities of silver money.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘What of that?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It means penal servitude for you, Mr. Craig, if I give it up to the - police. But I trust you will not compel me to such an extreme course.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How can I persuade you to have mercy on me?’ laughed Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - The other evidently did not appreciate the full extent of the old man’s - sarcasm. - </p> - <p> - ‘It will not be difficult,’ said Simon Lock, ‘provided you are reasonable. - I will tell you without any circumlocution what my terms are.’ Simon was - feeling firm ground under feet at last, as he thought. ‘What my terms - are.’ He repeated the phrase, which seemed to give him satisfaction. ‘You - must instruct your agents to agree to a cancellation of the contracts to - sell La Princesse shares. They must let go.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘As those contracts stand, Mr. Lock, how much do you reckon you would lose - on them?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I cannot say,’ said Lock stiffly. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will tell you,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘You would lose something between - two and a half and three millions of money. What you ask is that I should - make you a present of this trifling sum.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘In return I will give you Featherstone’s document.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Nothing else? Nothing in solid cash?’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock reflected. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I will give you a hundred thousand in cash.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Make it a quarter of a million,’ Raphael Craig affected to plead. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will make it a quarter of a million,’ said Simon Lock, ‘though I am - condoning a felony. I will give you the document and a quarter of a - million in exchange for a cancellation of all the La Princesse contracts. - That is a clear and business-like offer.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It is,’ said Craig. ‘And I refuse it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You want more? I decline to give it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I don’t want more. If you offered me ten millions I wouldn’t accept it.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You prefer to go to prison? You prefer that I should give the document to - the police?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I care not,’ said Craig. ‘I shall be perfectly content to end my days in - prison. I have ruined you, Simon Lock.’ He jumped up, and almost shouted, - ‘I have ruined you, Simon Lock, and I can die happy—whether in - prison or out of it makes no matter. In four days hence the contracts must - be fulfilled—you must deliver the shares, or you are a ruined man. - And you cannot deliver the shares. I have seen to that. Let happen what - may, the contracts are in safe hands. You will have noticed that my name - does not appear on them, and you are ruined. You are ruined, Simon, you - are ruined—unless I choose to be merciful.’ - </p> - <p> - He spoke the last words in low, deliberate tones, quite different from the - rest of the speech, and this change evidently puzzled Simon Lock, who was - now undecided whether still to maintain a peaceful attitude or to threaten - and bluster. - </p> - <p> - Raphael Craig went on, looking at Richard: ‘These great financiers, - Redgrave—you see they are not so great after all. The genius of - Simon Lock in juggling with other people’s money is supposed to be - transcendent, yet how easily I have juggled with his! It is not more than - three months ago that I first saw my opportunity of working on a big - scale. I obtained information about the probable tactics of the people in - charge of Princesse shares, and I took my measures accordingly. By the - way, it is surprising the number of people in the City who were delighted - to assist me in ruining Simon Lock. The most staid persons seemed to take - a fiendish glee in it.’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock smiled rather grimly, and Raphael Craig pursued his way: - </p> - <p> - ‘I knew that the great Lock group were selling Princesse shares for the - fall. It was very silly of them, though, to sell more than they could - deliver, especially as there doesn’t happen to have been a fall.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I am sure,’ said Simon Lock, ‘that you won’t mind telling me who - disclosed the nature of our operations in the matter of the Princesse - shares.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘With the greatest pleasure in the world,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘It was one - of your own intimate gang—your private secretary, Oakley. I bought - him, body and soul, for a thousand pounds.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And he sold you to me for ten thousand,’ murmured Simon Lock, half to - himself. ‘I am well rid of him. And now’—he turned to Craig, and put - some firmness into his voice—do, please, come to some arrangement.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Arrangement!’ exclaimed Raphael. ‘A good joke! Certainly we will come to - some arrangement. But first I must tell Redgrave, who has the right to - know, the history of the girl he is about to marry. I will tell him in - your presence, and when I make any error of fact you can correct me. Many - years ago, Richard, I was engaged to a beautiful girl, a native of - Limerick. She was an orphan, and had lived with friends until she became a - school-teacher, when she lived by herself. She had some aristocratic - Spanish blood in her veins through her mother’s father, who had married - her grand-mother in Buenos Ayres. I met her in Limerick when I was a clerk - in the bank there. I fell in love with her. I asked her to be my wife, and - she consented. We were to be married as soon as my salary had sufficiently - increased. I then had an offer of a situation in the British and Scottish, - just starting on its successful career, and I removed to London. We - arranged that I should save every possible penny, and that we should get - married in about two years’ time. It was from motives of economy that I - allowed a whole year to pass without revisiting Limerick. I continually - received letters from my fiancee, and though their tone was never - excessively warm, it was always tender, and it satisfied me. As for me, I - was passionately in love. I had never seen such an adorable creature as my - betrothed—her name was Juana—and I have never since seen her - equal. For me she was, and always will be, the world’s jewel.... Well, a - change came over the scene. I noticed something in her letters—something - which I could not define. Then, after an interval of silence, came a - letter saying she could not marry me. I got leave of absence—not - without a great deal of difficulty—and hastened over to Limerick. - Juana had left Limerick. I found her at length in a remote mountain - village, and I drew from her her story. It was a shocking one. A man—a - stranger from London—who must have been a highly plausible person in - those days, whatever he is now—had dazzled her by his professions of - admiration and love. He was a rich man even then, and he made her a - brilliant offer of marriage. The poor girl was carried off her feet. - Unduly urged, and her mind poisoned by his lies concerning myself, her - faith in me shaken by the stoppage for some weeks of my letters, she - consented to marry this man. She married him. They lived together for a - brief period. And all this time she had not courage to write and confess - to me the truth. Then the man left her, and coolly informed her that the - marriage was a bogus marriage from beginning to end—that he was, in - fact, already married. He said he wished to have nothing more to do with - her, and gave her a bank-note for a thousand pounds to solace her wounded - feelings, which bank-note she flung into the fire. You may ask why this - man was not prosecuted for bigamy. I will tell you. The matter was kept - quiet in order to spare the feelings of my poor deluded Juana. Think what - the trial would have meant to her. I myself arranged with the priest and - one or two other officials that the whole thing should be buried in - oblivion. I had reserved my own punishment for the villain who thus - escaped the law. To proceed, Juana had two children—twins. They were - named Juana and Teresa. Shortly after their birth their mother died. But - before she died—on her death-bed—I married her. I had begged - to do so before, but she had declined. I swore to her that I would regard - Juana and Teresa as my own children, but of my intended vengeance against - her murderer I said nothing. Hers was a gentle heart, and she might have - put me on my oath to abandon that vengeance. From the day of her death I - lived for nothing save the punishment of a villain. It was my one thought. - I subordinated everything to it. It made my temper uncertain; it involved - me in endless difficulties; it estranged me from my dear one’s elder - daughter, and often I felt that I was harsh to Teresa, my favourite and - the last-born. But I could not do otherwise. I was a monomaniac. I dreamt - only of the moment when I should see my enemy at my feet, begging for - mercy. That moment has come. He is here. Watch him. He could only be - wounded in one place—his pocket. His pocket is the heel of this - noble Achilles, and it is his pocket that my sword has pierced.’ - </p> - <p> - With outstretched finger Raphael Craig pointed with passionate scorn at - the figure of Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘Beg for my mercy,’ Craig commanded., - </p> - <p> - And to Richard’s amazement Simon Lock answered: - </p> - <p> - ‘I entreat your mercy, Craig.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘That is well. I am satisfied,’ said Craig. - </p> - <p> - ‘They say that revenge turns to ashes in the mouth. I don’t think it - does.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig,’ said Lock suavely to Richard, ‘has given a highly-coloured - account of a somewhat ordinary affair. But to appease him I do certainly - ask his mercy. I do admit that he has the upper hand.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And I will see you eternally damned, Simon Lock,’ said Raphael Craig, - ‘before I grant you an ounce of mercy! There is no mercy for such as you, - who are never merciful yourselves. I only wanted to hear you beg, that was - all. I hadn’t the slightest intention of letting you off.’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock got up. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is as well,’ he said, ‘that this farce should end. In asking your - mercy I was only using a form of words in order to pacify you. I - recognised that you were suffering, as you yourself have admitted, from a - sort of mania, and I took what I thought was the easiest course with you. - As to the past, we will not go into that. Your version of it is - ridiculously overstated. I shall now leave. In twenty-four hours you will - be in prison. You say that the fact of your being in prison will not - affect the Princesse contracts. I think it will. I think that when I - inform the Stock Exchange Committee that the real mover of those contracts - is awaiting his trial as a coiner, the Committee will do something - drastic. I might have told you this before, but I wished, if possible, to - arrive at an amicable settlement. In offering you two hundred and fifty - thousand pounds I fancy I was meeting you more than half-way. Good-day, - Mr. Craig; good-day, Mr. Redgrave. And, Mr. Redgrave, have a care how you - mix yourself up with this Craig, and, above all, do not take for gospel - everything that he says as to my past history.’ - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock made his exit from the room with immense dignity. - </p> - <p> - ‘He is bluffing,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘He is at the end of his tether, and - he knows it; but he has bluffed it out very well. The old man smiled - happily. ‘You are still prepared to marry Teresa?’ he asked. - </p> - <p> - Richard took Mr. Craig’s hand. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a> - </p> - <div style="height: 4em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - <h2> - CHAPTER XVII—THE CLOSE - </h2> - <p class="pfirst"> - <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ould our mother - have wished it? - </p> - <p> - These words, uttered in a tone of grave, sad questioning, were followed by - a hush among the group which sat under the trees in the orchard that same - afternoon. The two mares belonging to Mr. Craig, and Juana’s strawberry - roan, were feeding close by, the summer flies their sole trouble. The - group consisted of Raphael Craig, the two girls who, as he had said, were - his daughters by right of all he had done for them, and Richard. Old Craig - had, without any reservation, told Juana and Teresa the history of their - mother, and the history of his vengeance on the man who had so cruelly - wronged their mother. He explained to them, with a satisfaction which he - took no trouble to hide, how Simon Lock, after a career of splendour, was - now inevitably doomed to ruin. He told them how for twenty years he had - lived solely for the achievement of that moment, and that, now it had - come, he was content. - </p> - <p> - But Juana had said, ‘Would our mother have wished it?’ And her phrase - reminded Richard of the old man’s phrase to Simon Lock in the morning—‘Hers - was a gentle heart.’ The sisters looked at each other, unquiet, - irresolute. - </p> - <p> - ‘This Simon Lock is our real father, then?’ said Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘Have I not just told you so?’ said the old man. - </p> - <p> - ‘Let him off, father,’ Juana murmured; and Teresa’s eyes, though she said - nothing, supported her sister. - </p> - <p> - ‘Why?’ asked Raphael Craig. - </p> - <p> - ‘Surely you despise him too much to notice him. Is not the best punishment - for him his own conscience and your silent contempt?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No,’ cried the old man, suddenly starting up. ‘No, I will never let him - go free! After all these years of labour and sleepless watching, shall I - take my hands! off his throat now? You don’t know what you ask, Juana. But - you were always against me, Juana, ever since you were a little child—you - who bear your mother’s name, too!’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Nay, father,’ said Juana; ‘I admire your defence of my mother. I love you - for it. I think you are the noblest man alive. But you will be nobler if - you let this man go free. He is beneath your notice.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Never!’ repeated the old man, and walked quickly out of the orchard. - </p> - <p> - The three young people, left together, scarcely knew what to say to each - other. The girls were, very naturally, excited and perturbed by the - recital to which they had just listened. As for Richard, he was still in a - state of suspense, of apprehension, almost of fear. To him the very - atmosphere of Queen’s Farm seemed to be charged with the messages of fate. - Raphael Craig’s profound self-satisfaction struck Richard as quite - child-like. Did this man, so experienced in the world, really think that - Simon Lock would quietly allow himself to be ruined? Did he really think - that the struggle was over? And if, on the other hand, he thought that - Simon Lock would procure his arrest, was he actually prepared to go to - prison, and to die there? Richard pictured Simon Lock as planning all - sorts of deep-laid schemes against Raphael Craig. He felt that Simon Lock - would never be ‘at the end of his tether,’ as the old man had termed it, - until Simon Lock was dead. He felt just a little bit for Simon Lock on - account of the humiliations which that proud personage had been made to - suffer that morning, and he felt so, despite his detestation of Lock’s - past career and of his general methods. He found it impossible to get very - angry about a sin committed twenty years ago. - </p> - <p> - That night Nolan, the detective, though better than on the previous day, - was suffering from a slight temporary relapse. Richard volunteered to sit - up with him, as the man could only sleep at intervals. Both Bridget and - Juana were exhausted with the nursing, and Juana would not hear of Teresa - sitting up. So it came about that Richard insisted on performing the duty - himself. - </p> - <p> - It was a warm summer night, rather too warm for comfort, and for a little - space the two men talked on miscellaneous subjects. Then Nolan asked for - something to drink, and having drunk, went off into a sound sleep. So far - as Richard could see, the patient was better again. Richard occupied an - easy-chair by the window. There was twilight all through the night. For a - long time Richard gazed idly out of the window into the western arch of - the sky. As hour after hour passed the temperature grew chilly. He closed - the window. Nolan still slept peacefully. Richard drew down the blind, and - said to himself that he would have a doze in the easy-chair. - </p> - <p> - The next thing of which he was conscious was a knocking at the door. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, yes,’ he answered sleepily, and Mrs. Bridget burst in. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Redgrave!’ she cried, ‘an’ have ye heard nothing? Surely the ould - master’s not in his bed, and something’s happened. May the Virgin protect - us all this night?’ - </p> - <p> - Richard saw wild terror in the woman’s eyes. He sprang up. He was fully - and acutely awake, but the sick man slept on. He went quietly and quickly - out of the room. Juana and Teresa stood in the passage, alarmed and - dishevelled. - </p> - <p> - ‘He is gone!’ Teresa exclaimed. ‘I wonder you heard nothing, as his was - the next room. It was Bridget who heard a sort of shout, she says, - outside, and then looked out of her window, and she thinks she heard a - motorcar.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Which way was it going?’ asked Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Sure and it’s meself that can’t tell ye, sir,’ said Mrs. Bridget. - </p> - <p> - Richard reflected a moment. - </p> - <p> - ‘Why has he gone off like this in the night?’ questioned Juana. - </p> - <p> - ‘Suppose that he has been captured—abducted—what then?’ said - Richard. ‘Teresa,’ he added, ‘put your things on. You and I will go after - him. Juana and Bridget must see to the nursing. Let there be no delay.’ - </p> - <p> - His words were authoritative, and both girls departed. Richard proceeded - to examine the bedroom of the vanished Raphael Craig. It was in a state of - wild confusion. The bed had not been slept in; the bed was, indeed, almost - the sole undisturbed article in the room. A writing bureau stood in the - corner between the window and the fireplace, and apparently Mr. Craig had - been sitting at this. The ink-bottle was overturned, the rows of small - drawers had all been forced open, and papers, blown by the wind from the - open window, were scattered round the room. The window was wide open from - the bottom, and on the sill Richard noticed a minute streak of blood, - quite wet. The wall-paper beneath the window was damaged, as though by - feet. The window-curtains were torn. Richard judged that Raphael Craig - must have been surprised while writing, gagged, and removed forcibly from - the room by the window. He turned again within the room, but he observed - nothing further of interest except that the drawers and cupboards of a - large mahogany wardrobe had been forced, and their contents flung on the - floor. - </p> - <p> - Richard went downstairs and out of the house by the front-door. He - travelled round the house by the garden-path, till he came under the - window of Raphael’s bedroom, and there he found the soil trodden down and - some flowers broken off their stalks; but there were no traces of - footsteps on the hard gravelled path. He returned to the house. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig has certainly been carried off,’ he said to Teresa, who was - just coming down the stairs, candle in hand. - </p> - <p> - She wore over her dress a coat, and a small hat was on her head. - </p> - <p> - ‘Carried off!’ she exclaimed, and the candle shook. ‘By whom?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Need we ask? Your father thought he had done with Simon Lock, but Simon - Lock is not so easily done with.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But what can Simon Lock do with father?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Anything that a villain dares,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Come along; don’t wait. We will take one of the motor-cars and follow.’ - </p> - <p> - They ran forth from the house to the sheds. The Décauville car stood in - the first shed. - </p> - <p> - ‘Is it ready for action, do you know?’ asked Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Perfectly. I had it out the day before yesterday.’ - </p> - <p> - But when they came to start it they discovered that the pipe which led the - petrol to the cylinder had been neatly severed. It was the simplest - operation, but quite effective to disable the car. Nothing could be done - without a new pipe. - </p> - <p> - ‘Where is the electric car?’ Richard demanded, almost gruffly. ‘They may - have missed that.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘I don’t know. It ought to be here,’ Teresa replied. - </p> - <p> - ‘They have taken him off in his own car,’ was Richard’s comment ‘We can do - nothing.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘The horses,’ said Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘No horses that were ever bred could overtake that car, or even keep up - with it for a couple of miles.’ - </p> - <p> - They walked back to the house, and met Bridget. - </p> - <p> - ‘Is it the illictric car ye’re wanting?’ she asked, with the intuition of - an Irishwoman. - </p> - <p> - ‘It’s in the far shed.’ - </p> - <p> - With one accord Richard and Teresa ran back to the far end of the range of - buildings. There stood the car, in what had once been the famous silver - shed. - </p> - <p> - ‘I saw the master put it there this very morning as ever is,’ said Mrs. - Bridget, who had followed them, as Richard jumped on to the driving-seat. - </p> - <p> - In two minutes they were off, sped by the whispered blessing of Mrs. - Bridget. At the end of the boreen Richard stopped the car. - </p> - <p> - ‘Which way?’ he murmured, half to himself and half to Teresa, as if - seeking inspiration. - </p> - <p> - ‘To London or to the North?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘To London, of course,’ said Teresa promptly. - </p> - <p> - He hesitated. - </p> - <p> - ‘I wonder——’ he said. - </p> - <p> - ‘What is that?’ Teresa asked sharply, pointing to something which glinted - on the road. She sprang down and picked it up. ‘Father’s spectacles,’ she - said—‘cracked.’ The spectacles had lain about a yard south of the - boreen; they therefore pointed to London. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ said - Teresa. - </p> - <p> - Richard shot the car forward in silence. - </p> - <p> - ‘Do you think dad threw out these specs, to guide us?’ questioned Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘Perhaps,’ answered Richard absently. - </p> - <p> - In this mysterious nocturnal disappearance of Raphael Craig he saw the - hand of the real Simon Lock. During the whole of that strange interview - which had taken place in the morning it had seemed to Richard that Simon - Lock had been acting a part—had, at any rate, not conducted himself - with that overbearing and arrogant masterfulness and unscrupulousness for - which he had a reputation. Richard decided in his own mind that Simon Lock - had arranged for this abduction, in case of necessity, before his visit to - Raphael Craig. It was more than possible that he might have urged his - visit chiefly as a visit of observation, to enable him to complete his - plans for exercising force to compel Raphael Craig to agree to his wishes. - With painful clearness Richard now perceived that Simon Lock was, in fact, - fighting for all that he held most dear—perhaps for his very life - and liberty, in addition to the whole of his fortune, for Richard knew - that when these colossal financiers do happen to topple over into ruin the - subsequent investigation of their affairs often leads to criminal - prosecution, a process disagreeable to the financier, but pleasant enough - to the public. A man such as Simon Lock had, therefore, a double, or, at - least, a highly intensified, motive in avoiding financial failure. Yes, - thought Richard, Simon Lock would stop at nothing to compel Raphael Craig - to give way. His mind wandered curiously to tales of the Spanish - Inquisition, and to the great torture scene in Balzac’s ‘Catherine de - Medici.’ He involuntarily shuddered, and then with an effort he drew his - mind back again to the management of the car. This vehicle, new and in - beautiful order, and charged for a journey of a hundred and twenty miles, - travelled in the most unexceptionable manner. The two and a half miles to - the North-Western station at Dunstable were traversed in precisely five - minutes, in spite of the fact that the distance included a full mile of - climbing. - </p> - <p> - The electric lights flashed along the deserted main streets of ancient - Dunstable, which is only a little more sleepy at night than in the - daytime. As they passed the Old Sugar-Loaf Inn a man jumped out of the - stable archway and hailed them frantically. His voice echoed strangely in - the wide thoroughfare. - </p> - <p> - ‘What is it?’ demanded Richard, unwillingly drawing up. - </p> - <p> - ‘You after a motor-car?’ the man inquired. He looked like an ostler. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘Mr. Craig?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes,’ said Richard. - </p> - <p> - ‘They stopped here,’ said the man, ‘and they told me to tell you if you - came by that they’d gone to Luton, and was a-going on to Hitchin.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘They! Who?’ asked Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘The gents in the car.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Who was in the car?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Four gents.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How long since?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘About half an hour, or hardly.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘And was it Mr. Craig who told you they’d gone to Luton and Hitchin?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How do I know his blooming name as told me?’ exclaimed the man. ‘They - gave me a shilling to stop here and tell ye, and I’ve told ye, and so - good-night.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Thanks,’ said Richard, and he started the car. In another moment they - were at the crossing of the two great Roman high-roads, Watling Street and - the Icknield Way. The route to Luton and Hitchin lay to the left; the - route to London was straight ahead. - </p> - <p> - ‘Now, was that a fake of Lock’s, or are we all wrong about Lock? and has - your father got still another mystery up his sleeve?’ - </p> - <p> - He gazed intently at the macadam, but the hard road showed no traces of - wheels anywhere, not even their own. - </p> - <p> - ‘We will go straight ahead,’ said Teresa earnestly. - </p> - <p> - Richard obeyed her instinct and his. Everything pointed to the probability - that Simon Lock, anticipating pursuit, had laid a trap at the Old - Sugar-Loaf to divert such pursuit. Then Raphael Craig must surely have - been drugged, or he would have protested to the ostler. - </p> - <p> - Before they had got quite clear of the last houses of Dunstable they - picked up Mr. Craig’s gold watch, which lay battered in their track. If - Craig had been drugged he must have quickly recovered! Teresa was now - extremely excited, anxious, and nervous. Previously she had talked, but - she fell into silence, and there was no sound save the monotonous, rather - high-pitched drone of the motor-car. They passed through Markyate, four - miles, and through Redbourne, another four miles, in quick succession. The - road lies absolutely straight, and the gradients are few and easy. - </p> - <p> - ‘Surely,’ said Teresa at length, ‘if they are on this road we should soon - overtake them at this speed?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Fifty miles an hour,’ he said. - </p> - <p> - They were descending the last part of the hill half-way down which lies - Redbourne. It was a terrible, perilous speed for night travelling, but - happily the night was far from being quite dark. Though there was no moon, - there were innumerable multitudes of stars, and the dusty road showed - white and clear. - </p> - <p> - ‘Some cars can do up to seventy an hour. And if Simon Lock got a car he - would be certain to get the best.’ - </p> - <p> - As he spoke they both simultaneously descried a moving light at the bottom - of the hill. In a few seconds the car was within a hundred yards of the - light, and they could see the forms of men moving and hear voices. - </p> - <p> - ‘It is the other car broken down,’ exclaimed Teresa. ‘Put out our lights, - quick!’ - </p> - <p> - Richard realized in a flash that he ought to have taken that simple - precaution before, and to have approached with every circumspection. The - men in front had perceived the second car, and Richard’s extinction of his - lights came too late. He heard a sharp word of command, and then three men - left the disabled car and ran in a body to the other one. Their forms were - distinctly visible. - </p> - <p> - ‘Three to one!’ Richard said softly. ‘It looks like being a bit stiff.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘No! Three to two,’ Teresa corrected him. ‘Here! Take this.’ She handed - him a revolver which she had carried under her coat. ‘I just thought of it - as I was leaving the house, and took it out of the clock in the - drawing-room.’ - </p> - <p> - His appreciation of her thoughtfulness was unspoken, but nevertheless - sincere. - </p> - <p> - The three men were within fifty yards. - </p> - <p> - ‘Slip off behind and into the hedge,’ he ordered. ‘We shall do better from - that shelter if there is to be a row.’ - </p> - <p> - She obeyed, and they cowered under the hedge side by side. - </p> - <p> - ‘Get further away from me,’ he said imperatively. ‘You may be in danger - just here.’ - </p> - <p> - But she would not move. - </p> - <p> - ‘Whose car is this?’ cried a voice out of the gloom—a rough, - bullying voice that Richard did not recognise. - </p> - <p> - ‘Never mind whose car it is!’ Richard sang out. ‘Keep away from it. That’s - my advice to you, whoever you are. I can see you perfectly well, and I - will shoot the first man that advances another step.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Why?’ returned the same voice. ‘What’s all this bluster for? We only want - a bit of indiarubber for a ripped tyre.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It doesn’t take three of you to fetch a bit of indiarubber. Let two of - you get back, and then I’ll talk to the third.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Get on, my lads,’ another voice cried, and this time Richard knew the - voice. - </p> - <p> - It was Simon Lock’s; the financier was covered with a long overcoat; he - was the rearmost of the three. - </p> - <p> - Richard, without the least hesitation, aimed at Simon’s legs and fired. He - missed. At the same instant the middle figure of the three flung some - object sharply towards the hedge in the direction whence the revolver-shot - had proceeded, and Richard felt a smashing blow on the head, after which - he felt nothing else whatever. He had vague visions, and then there was a - blank, an absolute and complete blank. - </p> - <p> - The next thing of which he was conscious was a sense of moisture on his - head. He opened his eyes and saw in the sky the earliest inkling of dawn. - He also saw Teresa bending over him with a handkerchief. - </p> - <p> - ‘You are better,’ she said to him softly. - </p> - <p> - ‘You’ll soon be all right.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard shook his head feebly, as he felt a lump over his eye. He had a - dizzy sensation. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, you will,’ Teresa insisted. ‘It was very unfortunate, your being hit - with that stone. You gave an awful groan, and those men thought you were - dead; they certainly thought you were alone. I would have shot them, every - one, but you dropped the revolver in the grass by this bit of a gutter - here, and I couldn’t find it till they’d gone. D’you know, they’ve gone - off with our car? There was a man among them who seemed to understand it - perfectly. I’m awfully glad now I didn’t show myself, because I couldn’t - have done anything, and I can do something now. Oh, Dick! I saw them pull - father out of their car—it’s a big Panhard—and put him into - ours. He was all tied with ropes. It will be a heavy load for that little - car, and they can’t go so very fast. We must mend their car, Dick, and go - on as quickly as possible.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Can we mend it?’ Richard asked, amazed at this coolness, courage, and - enterprise. - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, of course. Look, you can see from here; it’s only a puncture.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘But didn’t one of them say they’d got no indiarubber?’ - </p> - <p> - Teresa laughed. - </p> - <p> - ‘You aren’t yourself yet,’ she said. ‘You’re only a goose yet. That was - only an excuse for attacking us.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard got up, and speedily discovered that he could walk. They proceeded - to the abandoned car. It was a 40 h.-p. concern, fully equipped and - stored. The travellers by it had already begun to mend their puncture when - the pursuing car surprised them. They had evidently judged it easier to - change cars than to finish the mending. Speed was their sole object, and - in the carrying out of the schemes of a man like Simon Lock a 40 h.-p. - Panhard left by the roadside was a trifle. - </p> - <p> - In twenty minutes the puncture was successfully mended, both Richard and - Teresa being experts at the operation. The effect of the blow on Richard’s - head had by this time quite passed away, save for a bruise. - </p> - <p> - ‘And now for Manchester Square,’ said Teresa, as they moved off. - </p> - <p> - ‘Why Manchester Square?’ Richard asked. - </p> - <p> - ‘That is where they were going; I heard them talking.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘It will be Simon Lock’s house,’ said Richard. ‘I must go there alone.’ - </p> - <p> - From Redbourne to London, with a clear road and a 40 h.-p. Panhard beneath - you, is not a far cry. In a shade under the hour the motor-car was running - down Edgware Road to the Marble Arch. Richard kept straight on to Adelphi - Terrace, put up the car at a stable-yard close by without leave, and, - having aroused his landlady, gave Teresa into her charge until - breakfast-time. It was just turned four o’clock, and a beautiful morning. - </p> - <p> - ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Teresa. - </p> - <p> - ‘I don’t exactly know. I’ll take a cab and the revolver to Manchester - Square, and see what happens. You can rely upon me to take care of - myself.’ - </p> - <p> - He could see that she wished to accompany him, and without more words he - vanished. In ten minutes, having discovered a cab, he was in the vast - silence of Manchester Square. He stopped the cab at the corner, and walked - to Simon Lock’s house, whose number he knew. A policeman stood at the - other side of the square, evidently curious as to the strange proceedings - within the well-known residence of the financier. The double outer doors - were slightly ajar. Richard walked nonchalantly up the broad marble steps - and pushed these doors open and went in. A second pair of doors, glazed, - now fronted him. Behind these stood a man in evening dress, but whether or - not he was a servant Richard could not determine. - </p> - <p> - ‘Open,’ said Richard. The man seemed not to hear him. - </p> - <p> - He lifted up the revolver. The man perceived it, and opened the doors. - </p> - <p> - ‘Where is Mr. Lock?’ Richard demanded in a firm, cold voice. ‘I am a - detective. I don’t want you to come with me. Stay where you are. Simply - tell me where he is.’ - </p> - <p> - The man hesitated. - </p> - <p> - ‘Quick,’ said Richard, fingering the revolver.. - </p> - <p> - ‘He was in the library, sir,’ the man faltered. - </p> - <p> - ‘Anyone with him?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Yes, sir; some gentlemen.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘How long have they been here?’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Not long. They came unexpected, sir.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Well, see that you don’t mix yourself up in anything that may occur. - Which is the library door?’ - </p> - <p> - The man pointed to a mahogany door at the end of the long, lofty hall. - Richard opened it, and found himself, not in a library, but in a small - rectangular windowless apartment, clearly intended for the reception of - hats and coats. Suspecting a ruse, he stepped quickly into the hall. - </p> - <p> - ‘Not that door, the next one,’ said the man, quietly enough. Richard - followed the man’s instructions, and very silently opened the next door. A - large room disclosed itself, with a long table down the centre of it. The - place did not bear much resemblance to a library. It was, in fact, the - breakfast-room, and the library lay beyond it. At the furthest corner, - opposite another door, a man was seated on a chair. His eyes seemed to be - glued on to the door which he watched. - </p> - <p> - ‘Come along, Terrell,’ this man whispered, without moving his head, as - Richard entered. - </p> - <p> - Richard accordingly came along, and was upon the man in the chair before - the latter had perceived that another than Terrell—whoever Terrell - might be—had thrust himself into the plot. - </p> - <p> - ‘Silence!’ said Richard; ‘I am a detective. Come out.’ - </p> - <p> - The revolver and Richard’s unflinching eye did the rest. Richard led the - astonished and unresisting man into the hall, and then locked him up in - the hat and coat room, and put the key of the door in his pocket. He - returned to the other room, locked its door on the inside, so as to - preclude the approach of the expected Terrell, and took the empty chair in - front of the far door. He guessed that Simon Lock, and perhaps Raphael - Craig, were on the other side of that door. - </p> - <p> - ‘Up to now,’ he reflected, ‘it’s been fairly simple.’ - </p> - <p> - There was absolute silence. It was as though the great house had hushed - itself in anticipation of a great climax. - </p> - <p> - Then Richard heard a voice in the room beyond. It was Simon Lock’s voice. - Richard instantly tried the door, turning the handle very softly and - slowly. It was latched, but not locked. Using infinite precautions, he - contrived to leave the door open about half an inch. Through this - half-inch of space he peered into the library. He saw part of a large - square desk and an armchair. In this armchair sat Raphael Craig, and - Raphael Craig was tied firmly to the chair with ropes. He could not see - Simon Lock, and he dared not yet push the door further open. - </p> - <p> - ‘Now, Craig,’ the voice of Simon Lock was saying, ‘don’t drive me to - extreme measures.’ - </p> - <p> - For answer Raphael Craig closed his eyes, as if bored. His face had a - disgusted, haughty expression. - </p> - <p> - ‘You’ve got no chance,’ said Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘Redgrave is caught, and won’t be let loose in a hurry. These two girls of - yours are also in safe hands. Nothing has been omitted. I have here a list - of the firms who have been acting for you in the Princesse shares. I have - also written out certain instructions to them which you will sign. I have - also prepared a power of attorney, authorizing me to act in your name in - the matter of these shares. You will sign these documents. I will have - them sent to the City and put into operation this morning, and as soon as - I have satisfied myself that all has been done that might be done you will - be set free—perhaps in a couple of days.’ - </p> - <p> - Richard saw that Raphael Craig made no sign of any sort. - </p> - <p> - Simon Lock continued: ‘You did not expect that I should proceed to extreme - measures of this kind. You thought that the law of England would be - sufficient to protect you from physical compulsion. You thought I should - never dare. How foolish of you! As if I should permit myself to be ruined - by an old man with a bee in his bonnet; an old man whose desire is not to - make money—I could have excused that—but to work a - melodramatic revenge. If you want melodrama you shall have it, Craig, and - more of it than you think for.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Why don’t you give me up to the police?’ said Raphael Craig, opening his - eyes and yawning. ‘You’ve got Featherstone’s confession, as you call it. - Surely that would be simpler than all this rigmarole.’ - </p> - <p> - The manager’s voice was pregnant with sarcasm. - </p> - <p> - ‘I will tell you,’ said Lock frankly; ‘there is no reason why I should - not: I have lost the confounded thing, or it has been stolen.’ He laughed - harshly. ‘However, that’s no matter. I can dispense with that—now.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘You can’t do anything,’ returned Craig. ‘You’ve got me here—you and - your gang between you. But you can’t do anything. In three days your ruin - will be complete.’ - </p> - <p> - ‘Not do anything!’ said Simon Lock; ‘there are ways and means of - compulsion. There are worse things than death, Craig. You decline to - sign?’ - </p> - <p> - Raphael closed his eyes again, coldly smiling. - </p> - <p> - ‘Terrell,’ called Simon Lock sharply, ‘bring the——’ - </p> - <p> - But what horrible, unmentionable things Terrell was to bring in will never - be known, for at that instant Richard rushed madly into the room. He saw a - revolver lying on the desk in front of Simon Lock. He frantically snatched - it up, and stood fronting Simon Lock. - </p> - <p> - ‘Well done, Redgrave!’ said the old man. - </p> - <p> - Simon’s face went like white paper. - </p> - <p> - ‘So “Redgrave is caught,” is he?’ said Richard to Lock. Without taking his - eye off the financier, he stepped backwards and secured the door. ‘Now, - Mr. Lock, we are together once more, we three. Don’t utter a word, but go - and cut those ropes from Mr. Craig’s arms. Go, I say.’ Richard had a - revolver in each hand. He put one down, and took a penknife from his - pocket. ‘Stay; here is a knife,’ he added. ‘Now cut.’ - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a> - </p> - <div class="fig" style="width:50%;"> - <img src="images/0322.jpg" alt="0322 " width="100%" /><br /> - </div> - <h5> - <a href="images/0322.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a> - </h5> - <p> - As Simon Lock moved to obey the revolver followed his head at a distance - of about three inches. Never in his life had Richard been so happy. In a - minute Raphael Craig was free. - </p> - <p> - ‘Take his place,’ Richard commanded. - </p> - <p> - In another two minutes Simon Lock was bound as Raphael Craig had been. - </p> - <p> - ‘Come with me, dear old man. We will leave him. Mr. Lock, your motor-car - is in a stable-yard off Adelphi Street. You can have it in exchange for - the car which you stole from me a few hours ago.’ - </p> - <p> - He took Raphael Craig’s arm, and the old man suffered himself to be led - out like a child. - </p> - <p> - Within a quarter of an hour father and adopted daughter were in each - other’s arms at Adelphi Terrace. The drama was over. - </p> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <hr /> - <p> - <br /><br /> - </p> - <p> - Two days later the evening papers had a brilliantly successful afternoon, - for their contents bills bore the legend: ‘Suicide of Simon Lock.’ It was - a great event for London. Simon Lock’s estate was found to be in an - extremely involved condition, but it realized over a million pounds, which - was just about a tenth of what the British public expected. The money, in - the absence of a will, went to the heir-at-law, a cousin of the deceased, - who was an army contractor, and already very rich. The name of this man - and what he did with his million will be familiar to all readers. The - heir-at-law never heard anything of the Princesse shares, for Raphael - Craig, immediately on the death of his colossal enemy, destroyed the - contracts, and made no claim whatever. This act cost him a hundred - thousand pounds in loss of actual cash outlay, but he preferred to do it. - Raphael Craig died peacefully six months later. Both the girls who had - called him father were by that time married—Teresa to Richard and - Juana to Nolan, the detective. It was indeed curious that, by the accident - of fate, Raphael should have been saved from the consequences of the crime - of uttering false coin by the spell exercised by those girls over two - separate and distinct detectives. The two detectives—one - professional, the other amateur—subsequently went into partnership, - Nolan having retired from Scotland Yard. They practise their vocation - under the name of ———— ———— - But you will have guessed that name, since they are the most famous firm - in their own line in England at the present day. - </p> - <p> - And Richard says to his wife: ‘I should never have saved him. Everything - might have been different if your courage had not kindled mine that - morning after I swooned by the roadside in Watling Street.’ - </p> - <h3> - THE END - </h3> - <div style="height: 6em;"> - <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> - </div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Teresa of Watling Street, by Arnold Bennett - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERESA OF WATLING STREET *** - -***** This file should be named 55114-h.htm or 55114-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/1/55114/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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-<pre>
-
-The Project Gutenberg EBook of Teresa of Watling Street, by Arnold Bennett
-
-This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
-other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
-whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
-the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
-www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
-to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
-
-
-
-Title: Teresa of Watling Street
- A Fantasia on Modern Themes
-
-Author: Arnold Bennett
-
-Illustrator: Frank Gillett
-
-Release Date: July 15, 2017 [EBook #55114]
-
-Language: English
-
-Character set encoding: UTF-8
-
-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TERESA OF WATLING STREET ***
-
-
-
-
-Produced by David Widger from page images generously
-provided by the Internet Archive
-
-
-
-
-
-
-</pre>
-
- <div style="height: 8em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h1>
- TERESA OF WATLING STREET
- </h1>
- <h3>
- A Fantasia On Modern Themes
- </h3>
- <h2>
- By Arnold Bennett
- </h2>
- <h3>
- With Eight Illustrations By Frank Gillett
- </h3>
- <h4>
- London: Chatto & Windum
- </h4>
- <h3>
- 1904
- </h3>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0001" id="linkimage-0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0013.jpg" alt="0013 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0013.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0002" id="linkimage-0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0016.jpg" alt="0016 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0016.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- <b>CONTENTS</b>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> TERESA OF WATLING STREET </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I—THE BANK </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II—THE CIRCUS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III—CHINK OF COINS </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV—MR. PUDDEPHATT </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V—FIRE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI—THE DESIRE FOR SILVER </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII—NOLAN </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII—THE PEER’S ADVICE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX—A VISIT </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X—MONEY-MAKING </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI—END OF THE NIGHT </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII—THE NAPOLEON </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII—THE VASE </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV—FEATHERSTONE’S RECITAL </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV—ARRIVAL OF SIMON </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI—THE INTERVIEW </a>
- </p>
- <p class="toc">
- <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII—THE CLOSE </a>
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- TERESA OF WATLING STREET
- </h2>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER I—THE BANK
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">S</span>ince money is the
- fount of all modern romantic adventure, the City of London, which holds
- more money to the square yard than any other place in the world, is the
- most romantic of cities. This is a profound truth, but people will not
- recognise it. There is no more prosaic person than your bank clerk, who
- ladles out romance from nine to four with a copper trowel without knowing
- it. There is no more prosaic building than your stone-faced banking
- office, which hums with romance all day, and never guesses what a palace
- of wonders it is. The truth, however, remains; and some time in the future
- it will be universally admitted. And if the City, as a whole, is romantic,
- its banks are doubly and trebly romantic. Nothing is more marvellous than
- the rapid growth of our banking system, which is twice as great now as it
- was twenty years ago—and it was great enough then.
- </p>
- <p>
- Such were the reflections of a young man who, on a June morning, stood
- motionless on the busy pavement opposite the headquarters of the British
- and Scottish Banking Company, Limited, in King William Street, City. He
- was a man of medium size, fair, thick-set, well-dressed, and wearing
- gold-rimmed spectacles. The casual observer might have taken him for a
- superior sort of clerk, but the perfect style of his boots, his gloves,
- and his hat precluded such a possibility; it is in the second-rate finish
- of his extremities that the superior clerk, often gorgeous in a new
- frock-coat, betrays himself. This particular young man, the tenor of whose
- thoughts showed that he possessed imagination—the rarest of all
- qualities except honesty—had once been a clerk, but he was a clerk
- no longer.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked at his watch; it showed three minutes to twelve o’clock. He
- waited another minute, and then crossed through the traffic and entered
- the sober and forbidding portals of the bank. He had never before been
- inside a City bank, and the animated scene, to which many glass partitions
- gave an air of mystery, would have bewildered him had he not long since
- formed the immutable habit of never allowing himself to be bewildered.
- Ignoring all the bustle which centred round the various cash desks
- lettered A to F, G to M, and so on, he turned unhesitatingly to an
- official who stood behind a little solitary counter.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sir?’ said the official blandly; it was his sole duty to be bland (and
- firm) to customers and possible customers of an inquiring turn of mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have an appointment with Mr. Simon Lock,’ said the young man.
- </p>
- <p>
- The official intensified his blandness at the mention of the august name
- of the chairman of the British and Scottish Banking Company, Limited.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Lock is engaged with the Board,’ he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have an appointment with the Board,’ said the young man. ‘My card;’ and
- he produced the pasteboard of civilization.
- </p>
- <p>
- The official read:
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Richard Redgrave, M.A.,
- </p>
- <p>
- Specialist.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In that case,’ said the official, now a miracle of blandness, ‘be good
- enough to step this way.’ Mr. Richard Redgrave stepped that way, and
- presently found himself in front of a mahogany door, on which was painted
- the legend, ‘Directors’ Parlour’—not ‘Board Room,’ but ‘Directors’
- Parlour.’ The British and Scottish was not an ancient corporation with a
- century or two of traditions; it was merely a joint-stock company some
- thirty years of age. But it had prospered exceedingly, and the directors,
- especially Mr. Simon Lock, liked to seem quaint and old-fashioned in
- trifles. Such harmless affectations helped to impress customers and to
- increase business. The official knocked, and entered the parlour with as
- much solemnity as though he had been entering a mosque or the tomb of
- Napoleon. Fifty millions of deposits were manoeuvred from day to day in
- that parlour, and the careers of eight hundred clerks depended on words
- spoken therein. Then Mr. Richard Redgrave was invited to enter. His foot
- sank into the deep pile of a Persian carpet. The official closed the door.
- The specialist was alone with three of the directors of the British and
- Scottish Bank.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Please take a seat, Redgrave,’ said Lord Dolmer, the only one of the trio
- with whom Richard was personally acquainted, and to whom he owed this
- introduction. ‘We shall not keep you waiting more than a minute or two.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The other directors did not look up. All three were rapidly signing
- papers.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard occupied a chair upholstered in red leather, next the door, and
- surveyed the room. It was a large and lofty apartment, simply but
- massively furnished in mahogany. A table of superb solidity and vast
- acreage filled the middle space—such a table as only a bank director
- could comfortably sit at. As Richard gazed at that article of furniture
- and listened to the busy scratching of pens, he saw, with the prophetic
- vision characteristic of all men who are born to success, that a crisis in
- his life was at hand. He had steadily risen throughout his brief life, but
- he had never before risen so high as a bank parlour, and the parlour of
- such a bank! His history, though a short one, was curious. He came to
- London from Westmoreland at the age of nineteen as a clerk in the Customs.
- From the first he regarded his clerkship merely as a means to an end; what
- end he had yet to ascertain. He paid particular attention to his clothes,
- joined a large political club, and kept his eyes open. His personal
- stock-in-trade consisted of a rather distinguished appearance, a quiet,
- deliberate, and confident voice and manner, an imperturbable good temper
- which nothing could affect, and a firm belief that he could do anything a
- little better than the average doer of that thing. He desired a University
- degree, and by working at night for four years obtained the M.A. of
- London. He practised a little journalism of the sensational kind, and did
- fairly well at that, but abandoned it because the profits were not large
- enough. One Sunday he was cycling down the Portsmouth Road, and had
- reached an hotel between twenty and thirty miles from London, when he met
- with his first real chance. A motor-tricycle had unaccountably disappeared
- from the hotel during luncheon. The landlord and the owner of the tricycle
- were arguing as to the former’s liability. Redgrave listened discreetly,
- and then went to examine the barnlike coach-house from which the
- motor-tricycle had been spirited away. Soon the owner, who had instructed
- the police and bullied the landlord, and was now forced to kick his angry
- heels till the departure of the afternoon train back to London, joined him
- in the coach-house. The two began to talk.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are Lord Dolmer,’ said Redgrave at length.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How do you know that?’ asked the other quickly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He was a black-haired man of forty, simply dressed, and of quiet
- demeanour, save of unusual excitement.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have seen you at the Constitutional Club, of which I am a member. Did
- you know that a motor-tricycle disappeared from this same hotel a
- fortnight ago?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Dolmer was impressed by the youth’s manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ he said; ‘is that really so?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Redgrave, ‘only a fortnight ago. Strange coincidence, isn’t
- it?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Who are you? You seem to know something,’ said Lord Dolmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Redgrave gave his name, and added:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am an officer in the Customs.’
- </p>
- <p>
- That sounded well.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I fancy I could trace your tricycle, if you gave me time,’ he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will give you not only time, but money,’ the peer replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We will talk about that later,’ said Redgrave.
- </p>
- <p>
- Until that hour Richard had no thought of assuming the rôle of detective
- or private inquiry agent; but he saw no reason why he should not assume
- such a rôle, and with success. He calmly determined to trace the missing
- tricycle. By a stroke of what is called luck, he found it before Lord
- Dolmer’s train left. Over half of the coach-house was a loft in the roof.
- Richard chanced to see a set of pulleys in the rafters. He climbed up; the
- motor-tricycle was concealed in the loft. The landlord, confronted with
- it, said that of course some mischievous loiterers must have hoisted it
- into the loft as a practical joke. The explanation was an obvious one, and
- Lord Dolmer was obliged to accept it. But both he and Redgrave had the
- gravest suspicions of the landlord, and it may be mentioned here that the
- latter is now in prison, though not for any sin connected with Lord
- Dolmer’s tricycle.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What do I owe you? Name your own sum,’ said Lord Dolmer to Redgrave.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nothing at all,’ Redgrave answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had come to a resolution on the instant.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Give me some introductions to your friends.
- </p>
- <p>
- It is the ambition of my life to conduct important private inquiries, and
- you must know plenty of people who stand in need of such a man as I.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Dolmer was poor—for a lord—and eked out a bare competence
- by being a guinea-pig in the City, a perfectly respectable and industrious
- guinea-pig. He agreed to Redgrave’s suggestion, asked him to dinner at his
- chambers in Half Moon Street, and became, in fact, friendly with the
- imperturbable and resourceful young man. Redgrave obtained several
- delicate commissions, and the result was such that in six months he
- abandoned his post in the Customs, and rented a small office in Adelphi
- Terrace. His acquaintance with Lord Dolmer continued, and when Lord
- Dolmer, after a lucky day on the Exchange, bought a 5-h.p. motor-car,
- these two went about the country together. Redgrave was soon able to
- manage a motor-car like an expert, and foreseeing that motor-cars would
- certainly acquire a high importance in the world, he cultivated relations
- with the firm of manufacturers from whom Lord Dolman had purchased his
- car. Then came a spell of ill-luck. The demand for a private inquiry agent
- of exceptional ability (a ‘specialist,’ as Richard described himself)
- seemed to die out. Richard had nothing to do, and was on the point of
- turning his wits in another direction, when he received a note from Lord
- Dolmer to the effect that Mr. Simon Lock and the directors of the British
- and Scottish had some business for him if he cared to undertake it.
- </p>
- <p>
- Hence his advent in King William Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Let me introduce you,’ said Lord Dolmer, beckoning Redgrave from his
- chair near the door, ‘to our chairman, Mr. Simon Lock, whose name is
- doubtless familiar to you, and to my co-director, Sir Charles Custer.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Redgrave bowed, and the two financiers nodded.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Take that chair, Mr. Redgrave,’ said Simon Lock, indicating a fourth
- chair at the table.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock, a middle-aged man with gray hair, glinting gray eyes, a short
- moustache, and no beard, was one of the kings of finance. He had the
- monarchical manner, modified by an occasional gruff pleasantry. The
- British and Scottish was only one of various undertakings in which he was
- interested; he was, for example, at the head of a powerful group of
- Westralian mining companies, but here, as in all the others, he was the
- undisputed master. When he spoke Lord Dolmer and Sir Charles Custer held
- their tongues.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We have sent for you on Lord Dolmer’s recommendation—a very hearty
- recommendation, I may say,’ Simon Lock began. ‘He tells us that you have a
- particular partiality for motor-car cases’—Richard returned Simon
- Lock’s faint smile—‘and so you ought to be specially useful to us in
- our dilemma. I will explain the circumstance as simply as possible. Will
- you make notes?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I never write down these details,’ said Richard. ‘It is safer not to. My
- memory is quite reliable.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock nodded twice quickly and resumed:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We have a branch at Kilburn, in the High Street, under the managership of
- Mr. Raphael Craig. Mr. Craig has been in our service for about twenty
- years. His age is fifty-five. He is a widower with one daughter. He came
- to us from an Irish bank. Professionally, we have no fault to find with
- him; but for many years past he has chosen to live thirty-five miles from
- London, at a farmhouse between the town of Dunstable and the village of
- Hockliffe, in Bedfordshire. Dunstable, you may be aware, is on the old
- Roman road, Watling Street, which runs to Chester. He used to go up to
- Bedfordshire only at weekends, but of late years he has travelled between
- his country home and London several times a week, often daily. He owns two
- or three motor-cars, and has once been summoned and convicted for furious
- driving. It is said that he can come to London by road from Dunstable in
- sixty minutes. When he stays in London he sleeps over the bank premises in
- the suite of rooms which we provide for him, as for all our managers.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You say you have no fault to find with Mr. Craig professionally,’ said
- Richard. ‘He does not, then, in any way neglect his duties?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The reverse. He is an admirable servant, and our Kilburn branch is one of
- the most lucrative of all our branches. Mr. Craig has built up a
- wonderfully good business for us in that suburb. Let me continue. Last
- year but one a relative of Mr. Craig’s, an uncle or something of that
- sort, reputed to be crazy, died and left him a hundred thousand pounds,
- chiefly, one heard, in new silver coins, which the old miser had had a
- mania for collecting, and kept in his cellars like wine. The strange thing
- is that Mr. Craig, thus made rich, did not resign his position with us.
- Now, why should a man of large fortune trouble himself with the cares of a
- comparatively unimportant bank managership? That aspect of the case has
- struck us as somewhat suspicious.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Highly suspicious,’ murmured Sir Charles Custer, M.P., out of his beard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You naturally—shall I say?—resent eccentricity in any member
- of your staff?’ said Richard sagaciously.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We do, Mr. Redgrave. In a bank, eccentricity is not wanted. Further—another
- strange fact—a month ago the cashier of our Kilburn branch, a
- mediocre but worthy servant named Featherstone, a man of fifty, whose
- brains were insufficient to lift him beyond a cashiership, and who,
- outside our bank, had no chance whatever of getting a livelihood in this
- hard world, suddenly resigned. He would give no reason for his
- resignation, nor could Mr. Craig give us any reason for it. In the
- following week Featherstone committed suicide. No doubt you saw the affair
- in the papers. The man’s books were perfectly straight. He was a bachelor,
- and had no ties that the police could discover. Such is the brief outline
- of the case. Have you any questions to ask?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Redgrave paused. When, from ignorance or any other cause, he had nothing
- to say, he contrived to produce an excellent effect by remaining silent
- and peering through his gold-rimmed spectacles. ‘Only one,’ he said. ‘What
- do you want to know?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We don’t know what we want to know,’ said Simon Lock abruptly. ‘We want
- to know anything and everything. Our suspicions are too vague to be
- formulated, but, as directors of a great financial undertaking, we are
- bound to practise precautions. We do not desire to dismiss Mr. Craig
- without a reason. Such a course would be unfair—and unprofitable.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘May I define your position thus?’ said Redgrave. ‘You do not precisely
- fear, but you perceive the possibility of, some scandal, some revelations,
- which might harm the general reputation of the bank. And therefore you
- wish to know, first, why Mr. Craig runs about Watling Street so much on a
- motor-car; second, why, being possessed of a hundred thousand pounds, he
- still cares to work for <i>you</i>; and third, why this Featherstone
- killed himself.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Just so,’ said Simon Lock, pleased.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Just so,’ echoed Sir Charles Custer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Dolmer gave his protégé a smile of satisfaction.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will undertake to assuage your curiosity on these points,’ Redgrave
- said, with that air of serene confidence which came so naturally to him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And your fee?’ asked Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If I fail, nothing. If I succeed I shall present my bill in due course.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘When shall we hear from you?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In not less than a month.’
- </p>
- <p>
- That evening Richard strolled up the Edgware Road to Kilburn, and looked
- at the exterior of the Kilburn branch of the British and Scottish. It
- presented no feature in the least extraordinary. Richard was less
- interested in the bank than in the road, the magnificent artery which
- stretches, almost in a straight line, from the Marble Arch to Chester.
- Truly the Roman builders of that road had a glorious disregard of
- everything save direction. Up hill and down dale the mighty Watling Street
- travels, but it never deviates. After sixty years of disuse, it had
- resumed its old position as a great highway through the magnificence of
- England. The cyclist and the motorist had rediscovered it, rejuvenating
- its venerable inns, raising its venerable dust, and generally giving new
- vitality to the leviathan after its long sleep.
- </p>
- <p>
- To Richard Redgrave it seemed the avenue of adventure and of success. His
- imagination devoured the miles between Kilburn and Dunstable, and he saw
- the solitary farmhouse of Raphael Craig, bank manager, motorist, and
- inheritor of a hundred thousand pounds in virgin silver coin.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER II—THE CIRCUS
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span> week later—and
- in the meantime he had been far from idle—Richard Redgrave arrived
- in Dunstable. It was a warm, sunshiny, sleepy day, such as suited that
- sleepy town, and showed off its fine old church and fine old houses to
- perfection. There is no theatre in Dunstable, no concert-hall, and nothing
- ever excites this staid borough save a Parliamentary election or the
- biennial visit of Bosco’s Circus.
- </p>
- <p>
- On the morning of Richard’s arrival Dunstable was certainly excited, and
- the occasion was Bosco, who, with his horses, camels, elephants, lions,
- bears, acrobats, riders, trapezists, and pavilions, had encamped in a
- large field to the south of the town. Along the whole of its length
- Dunstable, which consists chiefly of houses built on either side of
- Watling Street for a distance of about a mile and a half, was happily
- perturbed by the appearance of Bosco’s gigantic, unrivalled, and
- indescribable circus, which was announced to give two performances, at
- two-thirty and at seven-thirty of the clock. And, after all, a circus
- which travels with two hundred horses (chiefly piebald and cream), and
- with a single tent capable of holding four thousand people, is perhaps
- worthy to cause excitement.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard determined to patronize Mr. Bosco’s entertainment—he thought
- he might pick up useful information in the crowd—and at two-thirty
- he paid his shilling and passed up the gorgeous but rickety steps into the
- pavilion.
- </p>
- <p>
- A brass band was playing at its full power, but above the noise of the
- trumpets could be heard the voice of the showman—not Bosco himself,
- but an individual hired for his big voice—saying, ‘Step up, ladies
- and gentlemen. Today happens to be the thirtieth anniversary of our first
- visit to this town, and to celebrate the event we shall present to you
- exactly the same performance as we had the honour of presenting, by
- special command, to Her Majesty the Queen at Windsor last year. Step up,
- step up, and see our great spectacle, the Relief of Mafeking! See the
- talking horse! See Juana, the most beautiful rider in the world! Step up!
- </p>
- <p>
- Children half-price to morning performance only.’ The big voice made
- precisely this speech every day of his life all over England.
- </p>
- <p>
- The circus was well filled, and the audience enthusiastic. The clowns had
- an enormous success. As for Richard, he was more interested in Juana, the
- horsewoman. She was a tall and beautiful girl, apparently of the Spanish
- type. She rode, in a strictly conventional park riding costume, a superb
- strawberry-roan mare, which at her command waltzed, circled, caracoled,
- and did everything except stand on its head. Mare and rider were equally
- graceful, equally calm and self-contained. It was a charming item in the
- programme, but somewhat over the heads of the audience, save a few who
- knew a born rider when they saw one. An elephant was brought in, a young
- man in Indian costume being perched on its neck. The mare and the elephant
- went through a number of evolutions together. Finally the mare reared and
- lodged her forepaws on the elephant’s tremendous flank, and so situated
- the strange pair made an exit which roused the house from apathy to wild
- enthusiasm. Juana was vociferously recalled. She re-entered on foot,
- holding her habit up with one hand, a light whip in the other. Richard
- could not help being struck by the rather cold, sad, disdainful beauty of
- the girl’s face. It seemed wrong that the possessor of such a face should
- have to go through a series of tricks twice daily for the diversion of a
- rustic audience.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That wench is as like Craig’s girl as two peas.’ Richard turned quickly
- at the remark, which was made by one of two women who sat behind him
- industriously talking. The other agreed that there was some likeness
- between ‘Craig’s girl’ and the lovely Juana, but not a very remarkable
- one.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard left his seat, went out of the pavilion, and walked round the
- outside of it towards the part where the performers entered the ring.
- Attached to the pavilion by a covered way was a smaller tent, which was
- evidently used as a sort of green-room by the performers. Richard could
- see within, and it happened that he saw Juana chatting with a girl who was
- very much like Juana, though rather less stately. The young man in Indian
- costume, who had ridden the elephant, was also of the group. Soon the
- young man went to another corner of the tent, and the two girls began to
- talk more rapidly and more earnestly. Lastly, they shook hands and kissed,
- Juana burst into tears, and her companion ran out of the tent. Richard
- followed her at a safe distance through the maze of minor tents, vans,
- poles, and loose horses, to the main road. A small, exquisitely-finished
- motor-car stood by the footpath; the girl jumped on board, pulled a lever,
- and was off in a northerly direction through Dunstable up Watling Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Is that the road to Hockliffe?’ he asked a policeman.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It’s Raphael Craig’s daughter, I bet,’ he said to himself, and for some
- reason or other smiled a satisfied smile. Then he added, half aloud, ‘But
- who is Juana?’
- </p>
- <p>
- He went back to see the rest of the performance, and he had scarcely sat
- down before he had cause to wish that he had remained outside. The famous
- strawberry-roan mare, formerly ridden by Juana, was making a second
- appearance as the talking horse, in charge of the young man who had shone
- before in Indian costume, but who now wore the dress of a riding-master.
- An attendant was walking along the front benches with a bundle of numbered
- cards. He offered one to Richard, and Richard thoughtlessly accepted the
- offer. From that moment the eyes of the entire assemblage were upon him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The gentleman,’ said the young man in charge of the mare, ‘has chosen a
- card. Now, this wonderful animal will tell you the number of the card, and
- a lot of other interesting information. I shall put questions to the
- animal, which will answer “Yes” by nodding its head, and “No” by shaking
- its head, and will count by stamping its off fore-foot on the ground.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard was disgusted at being thus made the centre of a trick, but there
- was no help for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What is the number of the card drawn by the gentleman?’ the young man
- demanded of the mare.
- </p>
- <p>
- She stamped her foot ten times on the tan.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Number ten,’ said the young man. ‘Is that so, sir?’
- </p>
- <p>
- It was so. Richard nodded. Loud applause.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Is the holder of the card a married man?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The mare shook her head. Laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He is a bachelor?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The mare lowered her head. More laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Will he ever be married?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The mare lowered her head again. Loud laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Soon?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Again the mare signed an affirmative. Shrieks of laughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘To a pretty girl?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The mare nodded decisively.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Will they be blessed with many children?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The mare kicked out with her hindlegs, and ran as if horror-struck from
- the ring, amid roars of rustic delight. This simple trick and joke,
- practised for years and years with all kinds of horses, had helped as much
- as anything to make the fortune of Bosco’s circus. It never failed of its
- effect.
- </p>
- <p>
- The final ‘turn’ of the show was the Relief of Mafeking. Under cover of
- the noise and smoke of gunpowder, Richard contrived to make a stealthy
- exit; he was still blushing. As he departed he caught a last glimpse of
- Juana, who came into the ring in the character of a Red Cross nurse on the
- field of battle.
- </p>
- <p>
- That evening at midnight Richard issued forth from the Old Sugar Loaf
- Hotel on a motor-car. Bosco’s circus was already leaving the town, and as
- the straggling procession of animals and vehicles wandered up Watling
- Street under the summer moon it made a weird and yet attractive spectacle—such
- a spectacle as can be seen only on the high-roads of England. Its next
- halting-place was eighteen miles north—a long journey. The cavalcade
- was a hindrance to Richard, for he particularly desired to have Watling
- Street between Dunstable and Hockliffe to himself that night. He waited,
- therefore, until the whole of Bosco had vanished ahead out of sight. The
- elephants, four in number, brought up the rear of the procession, and they
- were under control of the young man whose trick with the strawberry-roan
- mare had put Richard to the blush. There was no sign of the mare nor of
- Juana.
- </p>
- <p>
- Watling Street runs through a deep chalk-cutting immediately to the north
- of Dunstable, and then along an embankment. This region at the foot of the
- Chiltern Hills is famous for its chalk, which is got from immense broad
- pits to the west of the high-road. As Richard’s car ran through the
- cutting—it was electrical, odourless, and almost noiseless—he
- perceived in front of him the elephant herd standing in the road. A little
- further on he descried the elephant-keeper, who was engaged in converse
- with a girl. Leaving his motor-car to take care of itself, Richard climbed
- transversely up the side of the cutting, and thus approached nearer to the
- pair. He saw now, in the brilliant white radiance of the moon, that the
- girl was the same girl who had kissed Juana in the circus tent. She was
- apparently urging the man to some course of action at which he hesitated.
- Then the elephant-keeper called aloud to his elephants, and the man and
- the girl, followed by the elephants, and followed also by Richard, passed
- through an open gate at the northern end of the cutting, and so crossed a
- very large uncultivated field. The extremity of the field descended
- steeply into a huge chalk-pit, perhaps a hundred yards in circumference
- and sixty feet deep, by means of a rough cart-track. At the end of the
- cart-track, in the bottom of the pit, was a motorcar. Richard watched the
- elephant-keeper single out one of the elephants and attach it by ropes to
- the motor-car. Slowly the ponderous and docile creature dragged the
- vehicle up the steep cart-track. The girl clapped her hands with joy.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If she is Craig’s daughter——’ Richard exclaimed softly, and
- then stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- Silhouetted sharply against the night-sky was the figure of Juana on the
- strawberry-roan. Mare and rider stood motionless at the top of the
- cart-track, and Richard, from his place of concealment, could see that
- Juana was gazing fixedly into the chalk-pit The man with the elephants and
- the girl with the motor-car had not perceived her, and before they could
- do so she had ridden off down the field. It was a wonderful apparition, a
- wonderful scene—the moon, the vast hemisphere of the purple sky, the
- glittering and immense whiteness of the chalk-pit, the exotic forms of the
- elephants contrasted with the motor-car, and, lastly, the commanding and
- statuesque equestrian on the brow. Richard was quite impressed by the mere
- beauty and strangeness, as well as by the mystery, of it all. What did it
- mean? Why should Juana, an expert who would certainly receive a generous
- salary, be riding at one o’clock a.m., seeing that the principal
- performers, as Richard knew, usually travelled by train from one town to
- the next? And why should she have followed these other two—the
- elephant-keeper and the young girl who so remarkably resembled herself?
- And having followed them and observed their movements, why should she
- silently depart, without making known her presence? He had been able to
- examine Juana’s face in the strong moonlight, and again he was moved by
- its sad, calm, cold dignity. Juana seemed as though, at the age of
- twenty-five or so—she could not be more—she had suffered all
- the seventy and seven different sorrows which this world is said to
- contain, and had emerged from them resolute and still lovely, but with a
- withered heart. Her face almost frightened Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- With infinite deliberation the elephants and the motor-car arrived at the
- top of the cart-track. The three elephants not engaged in hauling appeared
- to have formed a prejudice against the motor-car; the fourth, the worker,
- who had been used to dragging logs of teak in India, accepted his rôle
- with indifference. He pulled nonchalantly, as if he was pulling a child’s
- go-cart, thus, happily, leaving the keeper free to control the other
- beasts. At length the cortège—it had all the solemnity of a funeral
- pageant—passed safely into the field and out of Richard’s sight
- towards the highroad. He heard the spit, spit of the petrol-engine of the
- motor-car, now able to move of itself on the easy gradient, and
- simultaneously a startling snort and roar from one of the elephants. It
- occurred to him to hope that the leviathan had not taken it into his
- gigantic head to wreck the machine. The notion was amusing, and he laughed
- when he thought how frail a thing a motor-car would prove before the
- attack of an elephant’s trunk. Then he proceeded duly towards the road,
- hugging the hedge. Once more he heard the snort and the roar, and then a
- stern cry of command from the keeper, a little scream from the girl, and
- an angry squeak from the elephant. The spit, spit of the motor-car at the
- same moment ceased.
- </p>
- <p>
- When, after some minutes of scouting, he reached the gate and had a view
- of the road, he rather expected to see the motor-car lying in fragments in
- Watling Street, with, possibly, a couple of mangled corpses in the near
- neighbourhood, and a self-satisfied elephant dominating the picture. But
- his horrid premonitions were falsified.. The keeper had clearly proved the
- superiority of man over the brute creation; he was astride the neck of the
- obstreperous elephant, and the herd were trampling, with their soft,
- flabby footfalls, down Watling Street, along the sloping embankment, into
- the deep, broad valley which separates Dunstable from the belt of villages
- to the north of it. The lady with the motor-car stood quiescent in the
- road. She had got safely out of her chalk-pit, and was now waiting for the
- elephants to disappear before proceeding on her journey. Richard hesitated
- whether to return and examine the chalk-pit or to keep in touch with the
- lady. What any creature—especially a woman, and a young woman—could
- be doing with a motor-car in a chalk-pit in the middle of the night passed
- his wit to conceive. Nor could he imagine how any sane driver of a
- motor-car could take his car down such a steep slope as that cart-track
- with the least hope of getting it up again without the assistance of an
- elephant, or at least a team of horses. She must surely have been urged by
- the very strongest reasons to descend into the pit. What were those
- reasons? He wanted badly to examine the chalk-pit at once, but he decided
- ultimately that it would be better to watch the lady—‘Craig’s girl.’
- The chalk-pit would always remain where it was, whereas the lady,
- undoubtedly an erratic individuality, might be at the other end of the
- world by breakfast-time. He crept back to his own car, found it unharmed
- in the deep shadow where he had left it, and mounted.
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time the elephant herd had accomplished a good quarter of a mile
- down the gradual declivity of the embankment. ‘Craig’s girl’ started her
- car and followed gently. It seemed, in the profound silence of the night,
- that the spit, spit of her engine must be heard for miles and miles
- around. Richard started his own car, and rolled noiselessly in the traces
- of his forerunner. The surface of the road was perfect—for the
- Bedfordshire County Council takes a proper pride in its share of this
- national thoroughfare—and the vehicles moved with admirable ease,
- Richard’s being about a couple of hundred yards in the rear. Just at the
- top of the embankment is a tiny village, appropriately called Chalk Hill,
- and this village possesses a post pillar-box, a Wesleyan chapel of the
- size of a cottage, and an inn—the Green Man. As Richard swung past
- the Green Man a head popped out of one of its windows.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Anything wrong?’ asked a man.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ said Richard, stopping his car and lowering his voice to a whisper,
- lest the girl in front should hear and turn round. ‘Go back to bed,’ he
- added.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Go to bed yourself,’ the man said, apparently angry at this injunction.
- ‘You circus-folk, you’ve got motor-cars now; as if camels and alligators
- wasn’t enough, you’ve got motorcars a-grunting and a-rattling. Three
- blessed hours you’ve been a-passing this house, and my wife down with
- erysipelas.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Grumbling, the man closed the window. Richard laughed at being identified
- with the retinue of Bosco’s circus. He felt that it was an honour, for in
- the eyes of the village these circus-folk move always in an atmosphere of
- glory and splendour and freedom.
- </p>
- <p>
- He passed on. The girl in front was gradually overtaking the elephants,
- which were scattered across the width of the road. Suddenly one of them
- turned—the one ridden by the keeper—and charged furiously
- back, followed more slowly by the others. Evidently the sound of the spit,
- spit of the motor-car had renewed the animal’s anger. Perhaps it thought:
- ‘I will end this spit, spit once for all.’ Whatever the brute’s thoughts,
- the keeper could not dissuade it from its intentions, though Richard could
- see him prodding it behind the ear with a goad. The girl, ‘Craig’s girl,’
- perceived the danger which she ran, and, after a moment’s vacillation,
- began to wheel round, with the object of flying before this terrible
- elephantine wrath. But that moment’s vacillation was her undoing. Ere she
- could get the machine headed straight in the opposite direction the
- elephant was upon her and her car. Richard trembled with apprehension, for
- the situation was in truth appalling. With a single effort the elephant
- might easily have pitched both girl and car down the steep side of the
- embankment, which was protected only by a thin iron rail. Richard stopped
- his own car and waited. He could do nothing whatever, and he judged that
- the presence of himself and another car in the dreadful altercation might
- lead even to further disasters.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0003" id="linkimage-0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0053.jpg" alt="0053 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0053.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- The elephant stood over the car, waving his trunk, seemingly undecided how
- to go about his work of destruction; the keeper on his neck called and
- coaxed in vain. The girl... Richard could see only the girl’s back; he was
- thankful that he could not see her face. The other elephants waited in a
- semicircle behind. Then, after an interval that was like a hundred years,
- the leading elephant seized the steering-wheel of the motor-car, and,
- twisting it off the rod as though it had been made of putty, flung it into
- the road. That action seemed to appease the brute. He turned quietly away
- and slouched off; his keeper had now ceased to prod him. The other
- elephants followed meekly enough. The girl on the motor-car did not stir.
- The peril was past, but Richard found his foot trembling against the
- foot-brake of his car—such had been his agitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The elephant herd was five hundred yards away before the girl gave the
- slightest sign of life. Then she slowly dismounted, and waved a hand to
- the keeper, who had also dismounted from the elephant’s neck—a wave
- of the hand that was evidently intended to convey an assurance that she
- was unharmed and able to take care of herself. The keeper gave an
- answering signal, and—wisely, as Richard thought—continued his
- way up the opposite hill.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard pulled over the starting-lever of his car and leisurely approached
- the girl. She had already seen him, since her own car was more than half
- turned round, and therefore there could be no object in his attempting any
- further concealment. He drew up by her side and raised his peaked cap.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That was a nasty position for you to be in,’ he said, with genuine
- sympathy.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh, those elephants!’ she began gaily; ‘their trunks are so thick and
- hairy, you’ve no idea——’
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she stopped, and, without the least warning, burst into tears. It was
- a very natural reaction, and no one could wonder at such an exhibition.
- Nevertheless, Richard felt excessively awkward; excessively at a loss what
- to do under the circumstances. He could scarcely take her in his arms and
- soothe her like a child; yet that was just the thing he wished to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come, come,’ he said, and his spectacles gleamed paternally at her in the
- moonlight; ‘it is all over now.’
- </p>
- <p>
- She pulled out a microscopic lace handkerchief, wiped her eyes, and looked
- at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Forgive me,’ she exclaimed; and then, smiling: ‘It shan’t occur again.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are a brave woman,’ he said sincerely—‘a very brave woman.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How?’ she asked simply. ‘I did nothing.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Most women would have fainted or screamed, and then there is no knowing
- what might not have happened.’ He added, as she made no remark: ‘Can I be
- of any assistance? Have you far to go? I suppose you must have
- miscalculated your distances.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why?’ she asked, in reference to the last remark.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh, it’s so late, that’s all.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is,’ she said, as though the fact had just struck her. ‘Yes, I must
- have miscalculated my distances. Fortunately, I have only about a mile
- more. You see the yellow house on the hill towards Hockliffe? That is my
- destination.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are Miss Craig?’ he said inquiringly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am. You belong, then, to these parts?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I happen to know the name of the owner of Queen’s Farm, that is all,’ he
- admitted cautiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am much obliged for your sympathy,’ she said. ‘I shall walk home, and
- send a horse for the car to-morrow morning.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I could tow it behind my car,’ he suggested.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Pardon me, you couldn’t,’ she said flatly; ‘the steering is smashed.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I had thought of that,’ he replied quietly, as he picked up the small
- broken wheel out of the road. ‘If we tie a rope to either end of your
- front axle, and join them at the rear of my car, your car would steer
- itself automatically.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So it would,’ she said; ‘you are resourceful.
- </p>
- <p>
- I will accept your offer.’ Then she examined his car with the rapid glance
- of an expert.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well I never!’ she murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked a question.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is a curious coincidence,’ she explained, ‘but we have recently
- ordered an electric car precisely like yours, and were expecting it to
- arrive to-morrow—my father and I, I mean. Yours is one of the
- Williamson Motor Company’s vehicles, is it not?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard bowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘There is no coincidence,’ he said. ‘This car is destined for Mr. Craig. I
- am bringing it up to Hockliffe. You will remember that Mr. Craig asked
- that it should be sent by road in charge of a man?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘A man!’ she repeated; and, after a pause:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are, perhaps, a partner in the Williamson Company?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not a partner,’ he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- It may be explained here that the aforesaid Williamson Company had
- supplied Lord Dolmer with his motor-car. Richard had visited their office
- in order to ascertain if, by chance, Mr. Raphael Craig was a customer of
- theirs, and had been told that he was, and, further, that there was an
- electric car then on order for him. It was a matter of but little
- difficulty for Richard to persuade Williamson’s manager to allow him to
- pose for a few days as an employe of the company, and to take the car up
- to Hockliffe himself. He foresaw that in the rôle of a motor-car expert he
- might gain a footing at Craig’s house which could not be gained in any
- other way.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the two cars had been attached, and the journey—necessarily a
- slow one—began, a rather desultory conversation sprang up between
- Richard and Miss Craig, who sat by his side in the leading car.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You, too, must have miscalculated your distances,’ she said suddenly,
- after they had discussed the remarkable beauty of the moon.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ he said, ‘I like travelling at night. I admit that I thought
- Hockliffe considerably further on. I expected to deliver the car about
- breakfast-time.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You will permit us to offer you a bed?’ she said. ‘You will be able to
- get at least five hours’ sleep. We breakfast at seven. It is early, but
- that is my father’s custom.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He thanked her.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Take the little road on the right,’ she directed him later. ‘It leads
- only to our house In Ireland we call such a road a boreen.’
- </p>
- <p>
- It was then that he noted a faint Irish accent in her voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard brought the two cars to a standstill in front of a green gate.
- Leaning over the gate was an old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Teresa!’ the old man murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- She rushed at him and kissed him passionately.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER III—CHINK OF COINS
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">I</span> am getting on
- excellently,’ said Richard to himself as he descended from the car; but
- his self-satisfaction was momentarily checked by the glance flashed at him
- by the old man—a glance which seemed to penetrate at once to that
- locked chamber where Richard kept his secret intentions and desires.
- </p>
- <p>
- He returned the glance modestly, and then wondered whether, after all, Mr.
- Craig was as old as he looked. The manager of the Kilburn branch of the
- British and Scottish Bank had white hair, rather long at the back, and a
- heavy white beard; a pale face with prominent bones, the lower jaw large
- and protruding, the nose fine and delicate, the black eyes deep-set; the
- forehead was rather narrow, but the bossy temples gave indication of
- unusual intellectual force. The face was the face of an old man, yet the
- eyes were young and fresh. Richard remembered that Simon Lock had stated
- the manager’s age to be fifty-five, and he came to the conclusion that
- this might be a fact, though any merely casual observer would have put it
- at sixty-five at least.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Who is——’ Raphael Craig began questioning in tones of
- singular politeness, with a gesture in the direction of Richard, after he
- had returned his daughter’s salutation.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘This is a gentleman from the Williamson Company, dad,’ Teresa explained.
- ‘He has brought the new car. He likes travelling at night, and thought our
- house was much further on.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Then she explained the circumstance of the elephant’s attack.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Humph!’ exclaimed Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard affected to be occupied solely with the two motor-cars. He judged
- it best to seem interested in nothing else. He blew out the oil-lamps of
- the old car, and switched off the electric lights of the new one. Teresa
- turned instantly to the latter, and began to turn the light off and on.
- Her father, too, joined in the examination of the car, and both father and
- daughter appeared to be wholly wrapped up in this new toy. Richard had to
- explain all the parts. He soon perceived that he had chanced on one of
- those households where time is of no account. Teresa and Raphael Craig saw
- nothing extraordinary in thus dawdling over a motor-car at one o’clock in
- the morning by the light of the moon. After a thorough inspection of the
- machine Teresa happened to make some remark about three-speed gears, and a
- discussion was launched in which Richard had to join. A clock within the
- house chimed two.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Suppose we have supper, dad?’ said Teresa, as if struck by a novel and
- rather pleasing idea—‘suppose we have supper. The moon will soon be
- setting.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And Mr. ——’ said Raphael.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Redgrave,’ said Richard. ‘Richard Redgrave.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Will sup with us, I trust,’ said Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘True, there are seven inns in the village, but the village is asleep, and
- a mile off. We must offer Mr. Redgrave a bed, dad.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Humph!’ exclaimed the old man again.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was, perhaps, a strange sort of remark, yet from his lips it sounded
- entirely correct and friendly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am getting on excellently,’ mused Richard once more.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mike!’ the girl called. ‘Micky!’
- </p>
- <p>
- A very small, alert man instantly appeared round the corner of the garden
- wall, running towards them. He kept his head bent, so that Richard could
- not clearly see his face.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What is it ye’ll be after, Miss?’ Micky asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Take charge of these cars. Put them in the shed. Perhaps Mr. Redgrave
- will be good enough to assist you with the new one.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig walked towards the house. In three minutes, the cars being
- safely housed in a shed which formed part of some farm buildings, Richard
- and Teresa joined him in the spacious hall of the abode. Supper was served
- in the hall, because, as Teresa said, the hall was the coolest place in
- the house. Except an oldish, stout woman, who went up the stairs while
- they were at supper, Richard saw no sign of a domestic servant. Before the
- meal, which consisted of cold fowl, a pasty, and some more than tolerable
- claret, was finished, Raphael Craig excused himself, said ‘Good-night’
- abruptly, and retired into one of the rooms on the ground-floor. Richard
- and Teresa were then left alone. Not a word further had been exchanged
- between father and daughter as to the daughter’s adventures on the road.
- So far as the old man’s attitude implied anything at all, it implied that
- Teresa’s regular custom was to return home at one in the morning after
- adventures with motor-cars and elephants. Richard thought this lack of
- curiosity on the part of the old man remarkably curious, especially as
- Raphael and his daughter were obviously very much attached to each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The circus was amusing this afternoon,’ Richard remarked.
- </p>
- <p>
- The talk had flagged.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Where was it?’ Teresa asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At Dunstable,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Really!’ she said, ‘I had not heard!’
- </p>
- <p>
- This calm and nonchalant lie astounded
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard. She was a beautiful girl—vivacious, fresh, charming. She
- could not have long passed her twentieth year, and her face seemed made of
- innocence and lilies. Yet she lied like a veteran deceiver. It was
- amusing. Richard removed his spectacles, wiped them, and replaced them.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ he continued, ‘I went to the afternoon performance. The clowns were
- excellent, and there was a lady rider, named Juana, who was the most
- perfect horsewoman I have ever seen.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Not a muscle of that virginal face twitched.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Indeed!’ said Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I thought, perhaps, you had been with friends to the evening
- performance,’ Richard said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh no!’ Teresa answered. ‘I had had a much longer journey. Of course, as
- I overtook those absurd elephants in the cutting, I knew that there must
- be a circus somewhere in the neighbourhood.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Then there was another lull in the conversation.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘More wine, Mr. Redgrave?’ Teresa invited him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He thanked her and took another glass, and between the sips said:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am told this is a great chalk district—there are large
- chalk-pits, are there not?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you can see them from our windows. Very ugly they look,
- too!’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So far, good!’ Richard privately reflected.
- </p>
- <p>
- He had, at any rate, learnt that the Craigs had something to conceal.
- </p>
- <p>
- The hall clock struck three. Outside it was broad daylight.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That is a quarter of an hour fast,’ said Teresa. ‘But perhaps it might be
- as well to go to bed. You are probably not used to these hours, Mr.
- Redgrave? I am. Micky! Micky!’
- </p>
- <p>
- The small, alert man came down the side-passage leading into the hall from
- the back part of the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘This is decidedly a useful sort of servant,’ thought Richard, as he
- looked intently at Mike’s wrinkled, humorous face.
- </p>
- <p>
- The Irishman seemed to be about thirty-five years of age.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Micky,’ said Teresa, ‘show Mr. Redgrave to his room—the room over
- here. Bridget has prepared it; but see that all is in order.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That I will, miss,’ said Micky, but only after a marked pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard shook hands with his hostess and ascended the stairs in Micky’s
- wake, and was presently alone in a not very large bedroom, plainly but
- sufficiently furnished, and with some rather good prints of famous
- pictures on the walls.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Without doubt,’ he said, as he got into bed, ‘I have had a good day and
- deserve a good night. I must take measures to stop here as long as I can.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He had scarcely closed his eyes when there was a tap at the door, the
- discreetest possible tap.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well?’ he inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It’s myself, sorr,’ said the voice of Micky familiarly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come in, then, Mike,’ Richard said with equal familiarity.
- </p>
- <p>
- He already liked Micky; he felt as though he had known Micky for many
- years.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard had drawn both the blind and the curtains, and the room was in
- darkness; he could only discern the outline of a figure.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The mistress told me to remind your honour that breakfast was at seven
- sharp.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was aware of it,’ Richard said dryly; ‘but I thank your mistress for
- the reminder.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘An’ begging pardon, sorr, but d’ye know where it is you’re sleeping?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At present,’ said Richard, ‘I’m not sleeping anywhere.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Ah, sorr! Don’t joke. Mr. Featherstone slept in this room, sorr. Did ye
- know Mr. Featherstone?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What!’ cried Richard, starting up. ‘Do you mean the man that committed
- suicide?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The same, sorr. But speak low, your honour. It’s myself that should not
- have mentioned it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why not?’ Richard asked, subduing his voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The master might not like it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then why do you tell me?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They say it’s unlucky to sleep in a room where a suicide slept the last
- night of his life.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then Mr. Featherstone killed himself the day he left here?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure he did so. And I thought I’d warn you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh, well,’ said Richard, ‘it’s no matter. I dare say it won’t affect my
- repose. Goodnight. Thanks.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’d like ye to sleep in another room—I’d like ye to,’ urged Mike in
- a persuasive whisper.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, thanks,’ said Richard firmly; ‘I’m settled now, and will take the
- risk.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Micky sighed and departed. As soon as he was gone Richard rose out of bed,
- pulled the curtains aside, and made a minute examination of the room. But
- he could discover nothing whatever beyond the customary appurtenances of
- an ordinary middle-class bedchamber. There was a chest of drawers, of
- which every drawer was locked. He tried to push the chest away from the
- wall in order to look behind it, but the thing was so heavy that he could
- not even move it. He returned to bed. At the same time his ear caught the
- regular chink of coins, such a sound as might be made by a man
- monotonously counting money. It continued without interruption. At first
- Richard imagined it to proceed from under the bed, but he knew that this
- was impossible. Then he thought it came from the room to the left, then
- from the room to the right. Chink—chink—chink; the periodic
- noise had no cessation.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What coins can they be?’ Richard asked himself; and decided that such a
- full, rich chink could only be made by half-crowns or crowns.
- </p>
- <p>
- He endeavoured to sleep, but in vain; for the sound continued with an
- exasperating regularity. Then he seemed uneasily to doze, and woke up with
- a start; the sound was still going on. The hall clock struck five. He
- jumped out of bed, washed and dressed himself, and went quietly
- downstairs. The sound had mysteriously ceased. With a little difficulty he
- opened the hall door and passed out into the garden.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a lovely morning; the birds sang ravishingly, and a gentle breeze
- stirred the cypress-trees which lined the drive. The house was absolutely
- plain as regards its exterior—a square, solid, British farmhouse. A
- meadow that was half orchard separated it from the high-road. Away from
- the house, on the other side of it, and at the end of a large garden, was
- a long range of low buildings, in the form of a quadrangle, which had,
- presumably, once been the farmstead; they presented, now, a decayed and
- forlorn look. Richard walked past the front of the house, under its
- shuttered windows, across the garden, towards these farm buildings. As he
- opened a gate in the garden wall he saw Mike issuing cautiously from one
- of the sheds.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simultaneously there was a tremendous crash from the house—an
- ear-splitting crash, a crash that might have been caused by ten domestic
- servants dropping ten trays of crockery on a brick floor. But the crash
- had a metallic ring with it that precluded the idea of a catastrophe in
- earthenware.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard and Micky glanced at each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IV—MR. PUDDEPHATT
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">R</span>ichard saw that
- Mike was quite as startled as himself at the sound of that appalling crash
- within the house. But in a moment the Irish man-of-all-work had recovered
- his wits.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure,’ he said, his eyes twinkling, ‘the Day o’ Judgment has come along
- unexpected.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What was it?’ Richard asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mrs. Bridget must have pulled the kitchen dresser on the top of her,’
- said Mike. ‘Or it’s a procession of cups and saucers down the cellar steps
- and they missed their footing.’
- </p>
- <p>
- But, in spite of the man’s jocular tone, Richard thought he perceived
- something serious in Mike’s face. It occurred to him that the Irishman had
- guessed the true cause of the noise, and was trying to hide it from the
- visitor.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You’re up early in these parts,’ said Richard, determined to ignore the
- crash.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’m a bad sleeper, your honour, and when I can’t sleep I get up and enjoy
- the works of Nature—same as your honour.’ The man looked as fresh as
- though he had had a long night’s rest. ‘Like to see the horses, sorr?’ he
- added.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Certainly,’ said Richard, following Mike into the stable, which was at
- that end of the range of farm buildings nearest the house. A couple of
- Irish mares occupied the two stalls of the stable, fine animals both, with
- clean legs and long, straight necks. But Richard knew nothing of horses,
- and after a few conventional phrases of admiration he passed into the
- harness-room behind the stable, and so into what had once been a large
- farmyard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No farming here nowadays,’ he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, sorr,’ said Mike, taking off his coat, preparatory to grooming the
- mares. ‘Motorcars and farming don’t go together. It’s many a year since a
- hen clucked on that midden.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard went into several of the sheds. In one he discovered a Panhard
- car, similar to that belonging to Lord Dolmer. He examined it, saw that it
- was in order, and then, finding a screwdriver, removed the screw which
- held the recoil-spring of its principal brake; he put the screw in his
- pocket. Then he proceeded further, saw the other two cars in another shed,
- and next door to that shed a large workshop full of Yankee tools and
- appliances. Here, improving on his original idea, he filed the thread of
- the screw which he had abstracted, returned to the first shed, and
- replaced the screw loosely in its hole. At the furthest corner of the
- erstwhile farmyard was a locked door, the only locked door in the
- quadrangle. He tried the latch several times, and at last turned away.
- From the open door of the harness-room Mike was watching him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’ve been on a voyage of discovery,’ he called, rather self-consciously,
- across the farmyard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Did your honour happen to discover America?’ Mike answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard fancied that he could trace a profound irony in the man’s tone.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ he laughed back. ‘But I think I’ll try to discover the village.
- Which way?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Along the boreen, sort; then up the hill and down the hill, and you’ll
- come to it if you keep going. It’s a mile by day and two by night.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard reached the house again precisely at seven o’clock. Teresa was out
- in the garden gathering flowers. They exchanged the usual chatter about
- being up early, walks before breakfast, and the freshness of the morning,
- and then a gong sounded.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Breakfast,’ said Teresa, flying towards the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- The meal was again served in the hall. Richard wondered at its promptness
- in this happy-go-lucky household, but when he saw the face of the stern
- old woman named Bridget he ceased to wonder. Bridget was evidently a
- continual fount of order and exactitude. Whatever others did or failed to
- do, she could be relied upon to keep time.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Raphael Craig came out of the room into which he had vanished six
- hours earlier. He kissed Teresa, and shook Richard’s hand with equal
- gravity. In the morning light his massive head looked positively noble,
- Richard thought. The bank manager had the air of a great poet or a great
- scientist. He seemed wrapped up in his own deep meditations on the
- universe.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yet he ate a noticeably healthy breakfast. Richard counted both the
- rashers and the eggs consumed by Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How do you go to town, dad?’ asked Teresa. ‘Remember, to-day is
- Saturday.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I shall go down on the Panhard. You smashed the other last night, and I
- don’t care to experiment with our new purchase this morning.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, you won’t go down on the Panhard,’ Richard said to himself; ‘I’ve
- seen to that.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Perhaps I may have the pleasure of taking Mr. Redgrave with me?’ the old
- man added.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I shall be delighted,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Do you object to fast travelling?’ asked Mr. Craig. ‘We start in a
- quarter of an hour, and shall reach Kilburn before nine-thirty.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The faster the better,’ Richard agreed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If you please, sir, something’s gone wrong with the brake of the Panhard.
- The thread of one of the screws is worn.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The voice was the voice of Micky, whose head had unceremoniously inserted
- itself at the front-door.
- </p>
- <p>
- A shadow crossed the fine face of Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Something gone wrong?’ he questioned severely.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure, your honour. Perhaps the expert gentleman can mend it,’ Mike
- replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- Again Richard detected a note of irony in the Irishman’s voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole party went out to inspect the Panhard. Richard, in his assumed
- rôle of expert, naturally took a prominent position. In handling the
- damaged screw he contrived to drop it accidentally down a grid in the
- stone floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Never mind,’ said Raphael Craig, with a sharp gesture of annoyance. ‘I
- will drive to Leighton Buzzard and catch the eight-ten. It is now
- seven-thirty. Harness Hetty instantly, Mick.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That I will, sorr.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Let me suggest,’ Richard interposed, ‘that I take you to Leighton on the
- new car. I can then explain the working of it to you, and return here,
- retrieve the screw which I have so clumsily lost, and put the Panhard to
- rights, and possibly mend the other one.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh yes, dad,’ said Teresa, ‘that will be splendid, and I will go with you
- to Leighton and drive the car back under Mr. Redgrave’s instructions.’
- </p>
- <p>
- In three minutes the new electric car was at the front-door. Mr. Raphael
- Craig had gone into the house to fetch his bag. He came out with a rather
- large brown portmanteau, which from the ease with which he carried it, was
- apparently empty. The car was in the form of as mall wagonette, with room
- for two at the front. Mr. Craig put down the bag in the after-part of the
- car, where Teresa was already sitting, and sprang to Richard’s side on the
- box-seat As he did so the bag slipped, and Richard seized it to prevent it
- from falling. He was astounded to find it extremely heavy. By exerting all
- his strength he could scarcely lift it, yet Mr. Craig had carried it with
- ease. The bank manager must be a Hercules, notwithstanding his years!
- </p>
- <p>
- The five and a half miles to Leighton Buzzard Station, on the London and
- North-Western main line, was accomplished in twenty minutes, and Mr.
- Raphael Craig pronounced himself satisfied with the new car’s performance.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If you don’t mind, Mr. Redgrave,’ he said, ‘you might meet me here with
- this car at two-forty-five this afternoon—that is, if you can spare
- the time. Meanwhile, perhaps the Panhard will be mended, and my daughter
- will entertain you as best she can.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Craig seemed to take Richard’s affirmative for granted. Stepping off
- the car, he threw a kiss to Teresa, picked up the bag as though it had
- been a feather, and disappeared into the station.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘May I drive home?’ Teresa asked meekly, and Richard explained the tricks
- of the mechanism.
- </p>
- <p>
- Speeding through the country lanes, with this beautiful girl by his side,
- Richard was conscious of acute happiness. He said to himself that he had
- never been so happy in the whole of his life. He wished that he could
- forget the scene in the chalk-pit, the mysterious crash, Teresa’s lies,
- the suicide of Featherstone, and every other suspicious circumstance. He
- wished he could forget Mr. Simon Lock and his own mission. But he could
- not forget, and his conscience began to mar his happiness. What was he
- doing in the household of the Craigs? Was he not a spy? Was he not taking
- advantage of Teresa’s innocent good-nature? Bah! it was his trade to be a
- spy, for what other term could be employed in describing a private inquiry
- agent? And as for Teresa’s innocence, probably she was not so innocent
- after all. The entire household was decidedly queer, unusual,
- disconcerting. It decidedly held a secret, and it was the business of him,
- Richard Redgrave, specialist, to unearth that secret. Simon Lock was one
- of the smartest men in England, and his doubts as to the <i>bona fides</i>
- of Mr. Raphael Craig seemed in a fair way to be soon justified. ‘To work,
- then,’ said Richard resolutely.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Don’t you like Micky?’ the girl asked, with an enchanting smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Micky is delightful,’ said Richard; ‘I suppose you have had him for many
- years. He has the look of an old and tried retainer.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Hasn’t he!’ Teresa concurred; ‘but we have had him precisely a fortnight.
- You know that Watling Street, like all great high-roads, is infested with
- tramps. Micky was a Watling Street tramp. He came to the house one day to
- shelter from a bad thunderstorm. He said he was from Limerick, and badly
- in need of work. I was at school in a Limerick convent for five years, and
- I liked his Irish ways and speech. We happened to be desperately in need
- of an odd man, and so I persuaded father to engage him on trial. Micky is
- on trial for a month. I do hope he will stop with us. He doesn’t know very
- much about motor-cars, but we are teaching him, and he does understand
- horses and the garden.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Only a fortnight!’ was all Richard’s response.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, but it seems years,’ said the girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was much struck by his attractive manner,’ said Richard, ‘when he came
- to my room last night with your message.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘My message?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, about breakfast.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That must be a mistake,’ said Teresa. ‘I never sent any message.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said that you desired to remind me that breakfast was at seven
- o’clock.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh!’ she said, ‘that’s just like Micky, just like Micky.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The frank, innocent gaiety of that laugh made Richard forget Teresa’s fibs
- of the previous night. He could think of nothing but her beauty, her
- youth, her present candour. He wished to warn her. In spite of the obvious
- foolishness of such a course, he wished to warn her—against herself.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Has it ever occurred to you, Miss Craig,’ he said suddenly, and all the
- time he cursed himself for saying it, ‘that Mr. Craig’s—er—mode
- of life, and your own, might expose you to the trickeries of scoundrels,
- or even to the curiosity of the powers that be? Permit me, though our
- acquaintance is so brief and slight, to warn you against believing that
- things are what they appear to be.’
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a pause.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she said slowly, ‘do you mean to imply——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I mean to imply nothing whatever, Miss Craig.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But you must——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Listen. I saw you at the circus yesterday, and in the——’
- </p>
- <p>
- He stopped at the word ‘chalk-pit.’ He thought that perhaps he had
- sacrificed himself sufficiently.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At the circus!’ she exclaimed, then blushed as red as the vermilion
- wheels of the electric car. ‘You are an excessively rude man!’ she said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I admit it,’ he answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But I forgive you,’ she continued, more mildly; ‘your intentions are
- generous.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They are,’ said Richard, and privately called himself a hundred different
- sorts of fool.
- </p>
- <p>
- Why, why had he warned her against espionage? Why had he stultified his
- own undertaking, the whole purpose of his visit to Queen’s Farm,
- Hockliffe? Was it because of her face? Was Richard Redgrave, then, like
- other foolish young men in spring? He admitted that it appeared he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- When they arrived at the farm Richard deposited his hostess at the
- front-door, and ran the car round to the outbuildings, calling for Micky.
- But Micky was not about He saw the stable-door open, and, dismounting, he
- entered the stable. There was no sign of Micky. He went into the
- harness-room and perceived Micky’s coat still hanging on its peg. He also
- perceived something yellow sticking out of the inside pocket of the coat
- He made bold to examine the pocket, and found a French book—the
- Memoirs of Goron, late chief of the Paris police.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Rather a strange sort of Irish tramp,’ Richard thought, ‘to be reading a
- French book, and such a book!’
- </p>
- <p>
- With the aid of the admirable collection of tools in Mr. Raphael Craig’s
- workshop, Richard, who was decidedly a gifted amateur in the art of
- engineering, set to work on the damaged motor-cars, and an hour before
- lunch-time both the Panhard and the Décauville voiturette were fully
- restored to the use of their natural functions. He might easily have
- elongated his task, after the manner of some British workmen, so as to
- make it last over the week-end; but he had other plans, and, besides, he
- was not quite sure whether he wished to continue the quest which he had
- undertaken on behalf of Mr. Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- At twelve o’clock he made his way to the house, and found Micky weeding
- the drive. The two mares were capering in the orchard meadow which
- separated the house from the road.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, Mike,’ said Richard, ‘I see you’ve lived in France in your time.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not me, sorr! And what might your honour be after with those words?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You weed in the French way,’ Richard returned—‘on hands and knees
- instead of stooping.’
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a wild statement, but it served as well as another.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’ve never been to France but once, your honour, and then I didn’t get
- there, on account of the sea being so unruly. ’Twas a day trip to
- Boulogne from London, and sure we had everything in the programme except
- Boulogne. ’Twas a beautiful sight, Boulogne, but not so beautiful
- as London when we arrived back at night, thanks to the Blessed Virgin.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then you are a French scholar?’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Wee, wee, bong, merci! That’s me French, and it’s proud I am of it, your
- honour. I’ve no other tricks.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Haven’t you!’ thought Richard; and he passed into the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mike proceeded calmly with his weeding. On inquiry for Miss Craig,
- Bridget, with a look which seemed to say ‘Hands off,’ informed him that
- the young lady was in the orchard. He accordingly sought the orchard, and
- discovered Teresa idly swinging in a hammock that was slung between two
- apple-trees.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, Mr. Redgrave,’ she questioned, ‘have you found that lost screw?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have found it,’ he said, ‘and put both cars in order. What with three
- cars and two horses, you and Mr. Craig should be tolerably well supplied
- with the means of locomotion.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘After all, the horses are the best.’ She sat up in the
- hammock and called ‘Hetty!’ One of the mares lifted its head, whinnied,
- and advanced sedately to the hammock. Teresa stroked the creature’s nose.
- ‘Isn’t she a beauty, Mr. Redgrave? See.’
- </p>
- <p>
- In an instant Teresa had sprung on the mare’s back, and was cantering,
- bareback and without bridle, across the meadow. Hetty was evidently docile
- to the last degree, and could be guided by a touch of the hand on the
- neck.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What do you think of that, Mr. Redgrave?’ asked the girl proudly when she
- returned.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard paused.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is as good as Juana,’ he said quietly. ‘I had no idea you were such a
- performer.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa flushed as she slipped easily, to the ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am not such a performer,’ she stiffly replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I came to tell you,’ said Richard, ignoring her petulance, ‘that I have
- to go to a place in the village on some other business for my firm, I will
- get my lunch at one of the inns, and be back at——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Now, Mr. Redgrave,’ she interrupted him, ‘don’t be horrid. I have told
- Bridget to prepare a charming lunch for us at one-fifteen, and at
- one-fifteen it will be ready. You cannot possibly leave me to eat it
- alone.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I can’t,’ he admitted. ‘At one-fifteen I will be here. Thank you for
- telling Bridget to get something charming.’ He raised his hat and
- departed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, the first dwelling in the village of Hockliffe as you enter it by
- Watling Street from the south is a small double-fronted house with a small
- stable at the side thereof. A vast chestnut-tree stands in front of it,
- and at this point the telegraph-wires, which elsewhere run thickly on both
- sides of the road, are all carried on the left side, so as not to
- interfere with the chestnut-tree. Over the front-door of the house, which
- is set back in a tiny garden, is a sign to this effect: ‘Puddephatt, Wine
- Merchant.’ Having descried the sign, the observant traveller will probably
- descry rows of bottles in one of the windows of the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- As Richard sauntered down the road in search of he knew not what, Mr.
- Puddephatt happened to be leaning over his railings—a large, stout
- man, dressed in faded gray, with a red, cheerful face and an air of
- unostentatious prosperity.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Morning,’ said Puddephatt.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Morning,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Fine morning, said Mr. Puddephatt.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard accepted the proposition and agreed that it was a fine morning.
- Then he slackened speed and stopped in front of Mr. Puddephatt.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are Mr. Puddephatt?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The same, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I suppose, you haven’t got any Hennessy 1875 in stock?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Have I any Hennessy 1875 in stock, sir? Yes, I have, sir. Five-and-six a
- bottle, and there’s no better brandy nowhere.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’m not feeling very well,’ said Richard, ‘and I always take Hennessy
- 1875 when I’m queer, and one can’t often get it at public-houses.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, you can’t, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You don’t hold a retail license?’ Richard asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, sir. I can’t sell less than a shilling’s worth, and that mustn’t be
- drunk on the premises. But I tell you what I can do—I’ll give you a
- drop. Come inside, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It’s awfully good of you,’ said the brazen Richard; and he went inside
- and had the drop.
- </p>
- <p>
- In return he gave Mr. Puddephatt an excellent cigar. Then they began to
- talk.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I want a lodging for a night or two,’ Richard said after a time; and he
- explained that he had brought a motor-car up to the Queen’s Farm, and had
- other business in the district for his firm.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I can find ye a lodging,’ said Mr. Puddephatt promptly. ‘An aunt o’ mine
- at the other end of the village has as nice a little bedroom as ever you
- seed, and she’ll let you have it for a shilling a night, and glad.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Could you arrange it for me?’ Richard asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I could, sir,’ said Mr. Puddephatt; and then reflectively: ‘So you’ve
- come up to Queen’s Farm with a motor-car. Seems there ’re always
- having motor-cars there.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I suppose they’re perfectly safe, eh?’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh, they’re safe enough,’ Mr. Puddephatt replied emphatically. ‘Very nice
- people, too, but a bit queer.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Queer? How?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Puddephatt laughed hesitatingly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well,’ he said, ‘that Miss Craig’s knocking about these roads on them
- motor-cars day and night. Not but what she’s a proper young lady.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But everyone goes about on motor-cars nowadays,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Mr. Puddephatt. ‘But everyone doesn’t pay all their bills in
- new silver same as the Craigs.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They pay for everything in new silver, do they?’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That they do, sir. I sold ’em a couple of Irish mares when they
- first come to the Queen’s Farm. Dashed if I didn’t have to take the money
- away in my dog-cart!’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But is it not the fact that an uncle of Mr. Craig’s died a couple of
- years ago and left him a large fortune in silver—an old crank,
- wasn’t he?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So people say,’ said Mr. Puddephatt sharply, as if to intimate that
- people would say anything.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It’s perfectly good silver, isn’t it?’ Richard asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh, it’s good enough!’ Mr. Puddephatt admitted in the same tone as he had
- said ‘Oh, they’re safe enough!’ a few moments before.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How long has Mr. Craig lived at the Queen’s Farm?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘About two years,’ said Mr. Puddephatt.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Simon Lock, then, was wrongly informed. Mr. Lock had said that Craig
- had lived at the farm for many years.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Where did he come from?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Before that he had a small house under Dunstable Downs—rather a
- lonesome place, near them big chalk-pits,’ Mr. Puddephatt answered. ‘He
- seems to like lonesome houses.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Near the chalk-pits, eh?’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As you’re a motorcar gent,’ said Mr. Puddephatt later, ‘I reckon I can’t
- sell you a horse.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I thought you sold wines and spirits.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So I do. I supply the gentry for miles around; but I does a bit in horses—and
- other things. And there isn’t a man as ever I sold a horse to as I can’t
- look in the face this day. I’ve got the prettiest little bay cob in my
- stable now——’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard was obliged to say that that was not his season for buying
- horse-flesh, and, thanking Mr. Puddephatt, he left the wineshop.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘A house near the chalk-pits,’ he mused. Then he turned back. ‘I’ll let
- you know about the room later in the day,’ he said to Mr. Puddephatt.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Right, sir,’ answered Mr. Puddephatt.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard could not refrain from speculating as to how much Mr. Puddephatt
- already knew about the Craigs and how much he guessed at. Mr. Puddephatt
- was certainly a man of weight and a man of caution. The wine-merchant’s
- eyes continually hinted at things which his tongue never uttered.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER V—FIRE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he luncheon with
- Teresa was a pronounced social success. French rather than Irish in
- character, it was eaten under a plum-tree in the orchard. Micky waited at
- table with his hat on, and then disappeared for awhile. At two o’clock he
- rose again above the horizon, and said that the electric car was at the
- door. Richard and Teresa set off to meet the two-thirty train at Leighton
- Buzzard. By this time they had certainly become rather intimate, according
- to the way of young persons thrown together—by no matter what chance—in
- the month of June—or any other month. It was not, perhaps, unnatural
- that Raphael Craig, when he emerged from the railway-station and found the
- two laughing and chatting side by side in the motor-car, should have cast
- at them a sidelong glance, in which were mingled amusement, alarm, and
- warning.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Raphael carried the large brown portmanteau, which was now—as
- Richard discovered by handling it—quite empty. On the journey home
- Teresa drove the car, and her father sat by her side. Richard occupied the
- rear of the car, giving a hint occasionally as to the management of the
- machine.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I think I have nothing further to do here,’ he said when the party had
- arrived safely at Queen’s Farm. ‘Both the other cars are in order. I will
- therefore bid you good-day. Should anything go wrong with this car, you
- will doubtless let us know.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He spoke in his most commercial manner, though his feelings were far from
- commercial.
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig bent those dark, deep eyes of his upon the youth.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have been telephoning to your firm this morning,’ said Craig, ‘and have
- arranged with them that you shall take the Panhard back to town. They are
- going to take it off my hands—at a price.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘With pleasure,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But,’ Mr. Craig continued, ‘I wish to use the Panhard this week-end.
- Therefore you cannot remove it till Monday.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Very good,’ said Richard, ‘I will present myself on Monday morning.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And in the meantime?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In the meantime I have other business for my firm in the neighbourhood.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa’s glance intercepted her father’s, and these two exchanged a look.
- The old man frowned at his daughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Good-day,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael and Teresa shook hands with him. Was he a conceited ass, or did
- Teresa really seem grieved?
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Till Monday,’ said Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard walked down to the village, engaged Miss Puddephatt’s room, and
- dined at the White Horse Hotel. He had not yet definitely decided what
- course of conduct to follow. He was inclined to do nothing further in the
- affair, and to tell Simon Lock on Monday that, so far as he could
- discover, Simon Lock’s suspicions about Raphael Craig were groundless. He
- had taken no money from Simon Lock, and he would take none. Yet why should
- he pause now? Why should he not, for his own private satisfaction, probe
- the mystery to the bottom? Afterwards—when the strange secret stood
- revealed to him—there would be plenty of time then to decide whether
- or not to deliver up Raphael Craig into the hands of Simon Lock. Yes, on
- consideration he would, for his own pleasure, find out whatever was to be
- found out.
- </p>
- <p>
- That evening, an hour after sunset, he lay hidden behind a hedge on the
- west side of Watling Street, exactly opposite the boreen leading to the
- Queen’s Farm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard slept. He was decidedly short of sleep, and sleep overtook him
- unawares. Suddenly from the end of the boreen came the faint spit, spit of
- a motor-car, growing louder as it approached the main road. Would it awake
- Richard? No, he slept stolidly on. The motor-car, bearing an old man and a
- young girl, slid down into the valley towards Dunstable, and so out of
- hearing. An hour passed. The church clock at Houghton Regis, two miles off
- to the east, struck midnight. Then the car might have been heard
- returning, it laboured heavily up the hill, and grunted as though
- complaining of its burden as it curved round into the boreen towards
- Queen’s Farm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard awoke. In a fraction of a second he was wide awake, alert, eager,
- excited. He saw the car vanishing towards the outbuildings of Queen’s
- Farm. Springing out of the hedge, he clambered over the opposite hedge
- into Craig’s orchard, crossed it, passed the house by its north side, and
- so came to the quadrangle of outbuildings. By keeping on the exterior of
- this quadrangle he arrived at last, skirting the walls, at the blind end
- of the boreen. He peeped cautiously round the angle of the wall, scarcely
- allowing even the tip of his nose to protrude, and discerned the empty
- motor-car. He ventured forward into the boreen. It was at this corner of
- the quadrangle that the locked shed was situated. Rather high up in the
- wall a light disclosed the presence of a small window. The faintness of
- the light proved that the window must be extremely dirty. But even if it
- had been clean he could not have utilized it, for it was seven feet from
- the earth. He put his hand on the wall and touched a spout. The spout felt
- rickety, but he climbed up it, and, clinging partly to the spout and
- partly to the frame of the window, he looked into the locked shed. It had
- once, he perceived, been used as a stable, but it was being put to other
- purposes now. The manger was heaped up with bright silver coins. In the
- middle of the floor stood a large iron receptacle of peculiar shape. He
- guessed that it had been constructed to fit into the well of the Panhard
- motor-car. By means of two small buckets Teresa and her father were
- transferring the contents of this receptacle, which was still half full of
- silver, into the manger.
- </p>
- <p>
- The shed was ‘lighted by a single candle stuck insecurely on what had once
- been a partition between two stalls. The candle flickered and cast strange
- shadows. The upper part of the chamber was in darkness. Looking straight
- across it, Richard saw another little window exactly opposite his own; and
- through this window he discerned another watching face.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Micky!’ he exclaimed softly to himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael and Teresa were, then, doubly spied upon. But who was Micky?
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard’s attention was diverted from this interesting inquiry by the
- gradual growth of a light near the door, of which, being parallel with his
- window, he had no view. Then a long, licking flame appeared. He could see
- it creeping across the floor, nearer and nearer to the unconscious heavers
- of silver. Raphael had turned on the waste tap of the exhaust petrol under
- the motor-car. The highly combustible quid had run beneath the door of the
- shed it had there come in contact with the ax match used by Raphael to
- light the candle and then thrown down. Richard saw next that the door of
- the shed was on fire; at the same moment, unable any longer to keep his
- grip on the spout and the window-frame, he fell unexpectedly to the
- ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VI—THE DESIRE FOR SILVER
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he blazing door
- was locked. Richard called, shouted shouted again. There was no answer,
- but in the extraordinary outer silence he could still hear the industrious
- shovelling of silver.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well,’ he said to himself, ‘they’re bound to find out pretty soon that
- the show’s on fire.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He threw himself against the door angrily, and, to his surprise, it
- yielded, and he fell over the river of flame into the interior of the
- shed. The noise at last startled Raphael and Teresa out of the
- preoccupation of their task.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Haven’t you perceived that the place is being burned down?’ he exclaimed
- drily.
- </p>
- <p>
- At the same instant he sprang towards Teresa. The stream of burning petrol
- had found its way into the central runnel of the stone floor, and so had
- suddenly reached the hem of Teresa’s dress, which already showed a small
- blaze. Fortunately, it was a serge travelling frock; had it been of light
- summer material, Teresa would probably have been burnt to death. Richard
- dragged her fiercely from the region of the runnel, and extinguished the
- smouldering serge between his hands, which showed the scars of that timely
- action for a fortnight afterwards. He glanced round quickly, saw a pile of
- empty sacks in a corner—had they been used as money-bags? he
- wondered—and, seizing several of them, laid them fiat on the burning
- petrol and against the door. His unhesitating celerity no doubt prevented
- a magnificent conflagration. The petrol, it is true, had nearly burnt
- itself out, but the woodwork of the door was, in fireman’s phrase, ‘well
- alight,’ and, being aged and rotten, it formed a quick fuel.
- </p>
- <p>
- When the flames had been conquered, the three occupants of the shed looked
- at each other without a word. Strange to say, under the steady gaze of
- Raphael Craig, Richard’s eyes blinked, and he glanced in another direction—up
- at the little window in the opposite wall where he had seen the face of
- Micky, but where the face of Micky was no longer on view. Then he looked
- again at Raphael Craig, whose dark orbs seemed to ask accusingly: ‘What
- are you doing here?’ And, despite the fact that he had in all probability
- been the means of saving Teresa’s life, he could not avoid the absurd
- sensation of having been caught in a misdeed. He felt as if he must
- explain his presence to Raphael Craig. At that juncture, we are obliged to
- confess, his imperturbability deserted him for a space.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I—I happened to be passing the end of the road,’ he said lamely,
- ‘and I saw what I took to be a flame, so I ran along—and found—this,
- I’m glad it’s no worse.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So am I,’ said Raphael Craig, with cold gravity.
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa was silent.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’m glad I was in time,’ said Richard, as awkwardly as a boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’m glad you were,’ Mr. Craig agreed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is possible that my daughter owes her life to you. I cannot imagine
- how I could have been so careless with that petrol. It was inexcusable. We
- thank you, Mr. Redgrave, for your services so admirably rendered.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Don’t mention it,’ said Richard; ‘that’s nothing at all.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The whole interview was becoming too utterly ridiculous. But what could be
- said or done? It was the heaps of silver coins lying about that rendered
- the situation so extremely difficult. Useless for Raphael Craig to pretend
- that he and Teresa had been engaged in some perfectly usual and
- common-place task. Useless for Richard, notwithstanding his lame
- explanation, to pretend that he had not been spying. The heaps of silver
- made all parties excessively self-conscious, and when you are
- self-conscious you can never say the right thing in the right manner.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Raphael Craig who first, so to speak, came to himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As you are here, Mr. Redgrave,’ he said, ‘as you have already laid us
- under one obligation, perhaps you will consent to lay us under another.
- Perhaps you will help us to finish off these few coins. Afterwards I will
- beg the honour of a few words with you in private.’
- </p>
- <p>
- It was magnificent, thought Richard, this audacious manouvre of the old
- man’s. It took the bull by the horns in a very determined fashion. It
- disarmed Richard instantly. What course, save that of complying with so
- calm and courteous a request, could he pursue? He divined that Raphael
- Craig was not a man moulded to the ordinary pattern of bank managers,
- ‘With pleasure,’ he replied, and thereupon the heaps of silver seemed less
- bizarre, less confusing, less productive of a general awkwardness. By a
- fiction unanimously agreed to, all three began to behave as if shovelling
- thousands of new silver coins at dead of night in a disused stable was a
- daily affair with them.
- </p>
- <p>
- Still without uttering a word, Teresa handed her galvanized iron bucket to
- Richard. He noticed a little uncertainty in the motion of her hand as she
- did so. The next moment there was a thud on the floor of the stable.
- Teresa had fainted. She lay extended on the stone floor. Richard ran to
- pick up that fair frame. He had lifted the girl’s head when the old man
- interposed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Never raise the head of a person who has lost consciousness,’ he said
- coldly; ‘it is dangerous. Teresa will recover in a few minutes. This swoon
- is due only to the shock and strain of the last few minutes. In the
- meantime, will you open the door?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard, having complied, stood inactive, anxious to do something, yet
- finding nothing to do.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Shall I fetch some water from the house?’ he asked. ‘Swoons are sometimes
- very serious if they last too long.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Are they, my friend?’ said Raphael, with the trace of a smile. ‘This one
- is already over—see?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa opened her eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What are you two staring at?’ she inquired curiously, and then sighed as
- one fatigued.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her father raised her head in his arm and held it so for a few moments.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Now, my chuck,’ he said, ‘try if you can stand. Mr. Redgrave, will you
- assist me?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Redgrave assisted with joy. The girl at length stood up, supported on
- one side by Raphael Craig and on the other by the emissary of Simon Lock.
- With a glance at Richard, she said she could walk. Outside stood the
- motor-car.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Shall we take her round to the front-door on this?’ Richard suggested.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Are you mad?’ exclaimed Raphael Craig, with sudden disapproval. ‘Teresa
- will walk.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He locked the charred door of the stable with a padlock which he took from
- his pocket, and they proceeded to the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- Bridget stood at the front-door, seeming to expect them.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You’re not well, mavourneen,’ she said, glancing at Teresa’s face, and
- led the girl away.
- </p>
- <p>
- During the whole of the time spent by him at Queen’s Farm nothing
- impressed Richard more than the impassive yet affectionate demeanour of
- Mrs. Bridget, that mysterious old servant, on this occasion.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two men were left together in the hall. Mrs. Bridget and Teresa had
- gone upstairs.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mike!’ Raphael Craig called.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, sorr,’ answered Mike, appearing from a small butler’s pantry under
- the staircase.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Bring whisky into the drawing-room.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That I will, sorr.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard admired Micky’s sangfroid, which was certainly tremendous, and he
- determined to have an interview with the man before many hours were past,
- in order to see whether he could not break that sangfroid down.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come into the drawing-room, will you?’, said Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thanks,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- The drawing-room proved to be the room into which Mr. Craig had vanished
- on the <i>previous</i> night. It presented, to his surprise, no unusual
- feature whatever. It had the customary quantities of chairs, occasional
- tables, photographs, knicknacks, and cosy corners. It was lighted by a
- single lamp suspended from the middle of the ceiling. The only article of
- furniture that by any stretch of fancy could be termed extraordinary in a
- drawing-room was a rather slim grandfather’s clock in an inlaid case of
- the Sheraton period. This clock struck one as they went into the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Micky arrived with the whisky.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You will join me?’ asked Raphael, lifting the decanter.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thanks,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That will do, Mike.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Mike departed. The two men ignited cigars and drank. Each was seated in a
- large easy-chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Now for it,’ said Richard to himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Raphael Craig coughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I dare say, Mr. Redgrave,’ the bank manager began, ‘that certain things
- which you have seen this evening will have struck you as being somewhat
- strange.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am happy to have been of any help,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael bowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will not disguise from you,’ he continued, that when you arrived here
- in such a peculiar manner last night I had my suspicious of your good
- faith. I even thought for a moment—it was very foolish of me—that
- you were from Scotland Yard. I don’t know why I should have thought that,
- but I did think it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Really,’ said Richard, ‘I have not the least connection with Scotland
- Yard. I told you my business.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I believe you,’ said Raphael. ‘I merely mention the course of my thoughts
- concerning you. I am fully convinced now that, despite certain unusual
- items connected with your visit, you are exactly what you said you were,
- and for my doubts I now offer apology. To tell you the truth, I inquired
- from the Williamson Company this morning as to you, and was quite
- reassured by what they said. But,’ Mr. Craig went on, with a very
- pronounced ‘but,’ interrupting Richard, who had embarked on some protest—‘but
- I have at the same time been forced to the conclusion, Mr. Redgrave, that
- my household, such as it is, and my ways, such as they are, have roused in
- you a curiosity which is scarcely worthy of yourself. I am a fairly good
- judge of character, and I know by infallible signs that you have a nature
- far above idle curiosity.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thanks for your good opinion,’ said Richard; ‘but, to deal with your
- suspicions in their order, may I ask why you thought at first that I was
- an agent of Scotland Yard? Were you expecting Scotland Yard at Queen’s
- Farm?’
- </p>
- <p>
- He could not avoid a faint ironic smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Craig threw his cigar into the fireplace.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was,’ said Raphael briefly, ‘and I will tell you why. Some time ago an
- uncle of mine died, at a great age, and left me a huge fortune. My uncle,
- Mr. Redgrave, was mad. For fifty years he had put all his savings into
- silver coins. He had once been in a Mexican silver-mine, and the
- experience in some mysterious way had affected his brain. Perhaps his
- brain was already affected. He lived for silver, and in half a century he
- collected more than half a million separate silver coins—all
- English, all current, all unused. This fortune he bequeathed to me. I was,
- in fact, his sole relative.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘A strange old fellow he must have been,’ Richard remarked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Raphael. ‘But I am equally strange. I have said that my uncle
- had a mania. I, too, have that mania, for I tell you, Mr. Redgrave, that I
- cannot bring myself to part with those coins. I have the same madness for
- silver that my uncle had. Away from the silver, I can see myself steadily,
- can admit frankly to myself that on that one point my brain is, if you
- like the term, “touched.” In the presence of the silver I exist solely for
- it, and can think of nothing else.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nevertheless,’ said Richard dispassionately, ‘I was told in the village
- to-day that you paid for everything in silver. If you are so attached to
- silver, how can you bring yourself to part with it? Why not pay in gold?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Because,’ Raphael replied, ‘I never handle gold save in my professional
- capacity as bank manager. I take my salary in silver. I cannot help it.
- The weight frequently proves a difficulty, but I cannot help it. Silver I
- must have. It is in my blood, the desire for silver. True, I pay away
- silver—simply because I have no other coins available.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I see,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- He scarcely knew what to think of his strange companion. The man seemed
- absolutely sane, absolutely in possession of every sense and faculty, yet,
- behold him accusing himself of madness!
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Let me finish,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘When I came into my uncle’s fortune
- I was at a loss what to do with it. The small house which I then had over
- at Sewell, near Chalk Hill, had no accommodation for such a valuable and
- ponderous collection. I made a confidante of my daughter. She sympathized
- with me, and suggested that, at any rate for a time, I should conceal the
- hoard in a disused chalk-pit which lay a few hundred yards from our house.
- The idea, at first sight rather wild, grew upon me. I adopted it. Then I
- took this house, and gradually I have removed my silver from the chalk-pit
- to Queen’s Farm. It is hidden in various quarters of the place. We brought
- the last load to-night.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘This is very interesting,’ said Richard, who had nothing else to say.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have told you this,’ the old man concluded, ‘in order to account to you
- for what you saw to-night in that stable. It is but just that you should
- know. I thank you again for your prompt services in the matter of the
- fire, and I ask you, Mr. Redgrave, to pity the infirmity—the
- harmless infirmity—of an old man.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig stood up and gazed at Richard with his deep-set melancholy
- eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is an infirmity which draws suspicion upon this house as a magnet
- draws iron. Once already I have had the local police up here making stupid
- inquiries. I put them off as well as I could. Daily I am expecting that
- the directors of the bank will call me up to explain my conduct. Yet I
- cannot do otherwise.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why,’ said Richard, ‘if you are rich, do you still care to serve the
- bank? Pardon my impertinence, but, surely, if you left the bank one source
- of your apprehensions would be stopped?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I cannot leave the bank,’ said Raphael Craig, with solemn pathos; ‘it
- would break my heart.’
- </p>
- <p>
- With these words he sank back into a chair, and appeared to be lost in
- thought So the two sat for some time. Then Richard rose and went quietly
- towards the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are the only person, save Teresa, who knows my secret. Remember that,
- Mr. Redgrave.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The manager’s voice sounded weak and distant. Richard bowed and stole from
- the room. He sucked at his cigar, but it had gone out.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VII—NOLAN
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">V</span>ery quietly he
- sauntered to the front-door, which was ajar, and into the portico. He
- stood there meditating. In front he could vaguely discern the forms of the
- trees in the orchard, but beyond these nothing. The night was as dark as a
- wolfs mouth. Then the sound of a horse’s rapid hoof caught his ear. The
- wind had fallen, and everything was still. Looking down the hill, he could
- see the light of a vehicle ascending the slope of Watling Street. The
- sound of the horse’s trot came nearer and nearer, passed the end of the
- boreen, and so continued up the hill, getting fainter now, till it died
- entirely away as the vehicle dipped down the gradient into Hockliffe. The
- vehicle was one of her late Majesty’s mails, which took that route at that
- hour on Saturday nights only. It constituted a perfectly simple weekly
- phenomenon, yet somehow the birth, growth, fading, and death of the sound
- of the horse’s trot on the great road affected Richard’s imagination to a
- singular degree.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What is my position up here now?’ he asked himself. ‘Am I to depart an
- unconfessed spy, without another word to Raphael Craig or Teresa, or—what?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man’s recital had touched him, and Teresa’s swoon had decidedly
- touched him more.
- </p>
- <p>
- He strolled very leisurely down the drive, staring about him. Then, with
- senses suddenly alert, he whispered:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come out, there. I see you quite well.’ Micky was hiding in the bushes
- under the drawing-room window. The little man obeyed complacently enough.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come out into the road with me, Mike; I want to have a chat with you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard had sufficient tact not to put any sign of reproof or anger into
- his tone. He accepted Micky’s spying as a thing of course. They walked
- along the boreen together and up the high-road towards Hockliffe.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Now,’ said Richard, ‘we can talk at our ease here; we shan’t be
- overheard.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What does your honour want to talk about?’ asked Micky, with a great air
- of innocence.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You can drop the “your honour,” and all that rigmarole, my friend, and
- tell me who you really are. To prevent any unnecessary untruths, I may as
- well tell you at the start that I found Goron’s Memoirs in the pocket of
- your coat in the harness-room yesterday morning. From that moment I knew
- you were playing a part here.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Like you,’ said Micky quickly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes—if it pleases you—like me. What I want to know is, are
- you a detective?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And what I want to know is,’ said Micky, who had abandoned most of his
- Irish accent, ‘what are you?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Let us not beat about the bush,’ said Richard impatiently. ‘You’re a
- decent chap, so am I. I will begin by confessing that I am a private
- inquiry agent employed by the British and Scottish Bank.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh,’ said Micky, ‘I knew it was something of that sort Have you ever
- heard of a detective named Nolan?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What! <i>the</i> Nolan?’ asked Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The same,’ said Micky.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are Nolan?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have the honour—or the dishonour.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am glad to meet you,’ said Richard. ‘Of course, I know you well by
- reputation. How thoroughly you go into an affair! Fancy you acting as odd
- man here for weeks! I tell you you have completely imposed on them.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Have I?’ exclaimed Micky—or Nolan, as he must now be called. ‘I
- should be glad to be assured of that. Twice to-day I have feared that
- Raphael Craig had his doubts of me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I don’t think so for a moment,’ said Richard positively. ‘But what is
- your object—what is Scotland Yard after? Personally, I came here
- without any theories, on the chance of something turning up.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Scotland Yard is merely curious about the suicide—if it was a
- suicide—of a man named Featherstone, and about the plague of silver
- which has visited this district during the last year or two.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You say “if it was a suicide.” Do you suspect that Featherstone’s death
- was due to anything else?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I never suspect until I know, Mr. Redgrave. I am here with an open mind.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And what have you discovered so far?’ asked Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘My very dear sir,’ Nolan expostulated, ‘what do you take me for? I am
- sure that you are a man of unimpeachable honour—all private agents
- are—but, nevertheless, I cannot proclaim my discoveries to a
- stranger. It would be a breach of etiquette to do so, even if such a
- course were not indiscreet.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I give you my word, Mr. Nolan, that my activity in this case is now
- entirely at an end. I have found out this evening all that I wished to
- know, and perhaps more than I wished to know. I shall return to town on
- Monday morning, and Bedfordshire will know me no more.’ He paused, and
- added: ‘At least, it will know me no more as a private inquiry agent.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Or motor-car expert,’ said Nolan.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was merely asking you,’ Richard resumed, ‘how far you had got, in the
- hope that possibly I might be able to simplify matters for you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are very good,’ said Nolan, with an indescribable accent of irony—a
- bantering tone which, however, was so good-humoured that Richard could not
- take exception to it—‘you are very good.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You have found out, I presume, something concerning the chalk-pit?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh yes,’ said Nolan, ‘I have found out something concerning the
- chalk-pit.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And you know what the crash Was early this morning?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have a notion,’ said Nolan.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And, since I saw your inquisitive face at the window of that stable
- to-night, you know what that stable contains?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not quite to half-a-crown,’ said Nolan, but approximately.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘By the way,’ Richard asked, ‘why on earth didn’t you come and assist in
- putting out the fire?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What! And give myself away?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It might have been a matter of life and death.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, it might have been. Had it got so far, I dare say I should have
- sacrificed my standing here, my reputation with these people as a simple
- Irishman, in order to save them. But I knew that you were there, and that
- you would do all that was necessary.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I only just got into the place in time,’ said Richard sharply.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes. It is a pity that you burnt your hands.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How do you know that I burnt my hands?’ Richard asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I can tell by the way you hold them,’ said Nolan.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It was worth it,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Was it?’ observed Nolan quietly. ‘I am glad. Of course, now that you have
- found out everything——’
- </p>
- <p>
- He drew up standing in the road. His voice showed that Richard had made
- some little impression on that great man from Scotland Yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Admit first,’ said Richard, his eyes twinkling through the gold-rimmed
- spectacles, ‘that you were guilty of the grossest indiscretion—not
- to say stupidity—in leaving Goron’s Memoirs, a yellow-covered French
- book, lying about the harness-room—you, an Irish labourer.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I admit that in that matter I was an inconceivable ass,’ said Nolan
- cheerfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Good!’ said Richard; ‘you shall have your reward.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Richard told him all that he had learnt from the lips of Raphael
- Craig. There was a silence when he had finished.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Nolan, ‘it’s rather an impressive story; it impresses even me.
- But do you believe it?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I believe what Craig told me. If he lied, he is the finest actor I ever
- saw.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Listen,’ said Nolan. ‘Does this tale of Craig’s explain his daughter’s
- visit to Bosco’s circus and her chat with Juana, and her unblushing fibs
- to you afterwards?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How did you hear about that?’ questioned Richard savagely.
- </p>
- <p>
- He scarcely liked Nolan’s curt language in regard to Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I did hear about it,’ said Nolan; ‘let that suffice. And listen further.
- I will make you a present of a fact—an absolutely indisputable fact—which
- I have discovered: Raphael Craig never had an uncle. His father was an
- only son. Moreover, no person has died within the last few years who could
- by any means be related to Craig. The records at Somerset House have been
- thoroughly searched.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No uncle!’ was all Richard, the nonplussed, could murmur.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And,’ Nolan continued, ‘while I am about it, I will make you a present of
- another little fact. You say that Craig told you that he had brought all
- his silver here, the last load having arrived to-night. On the contrary,
- he has gradually been taking silver away from here, I admit that he has
- brought some, but he has carted far more away. For what else should he
- need all this generous supply of motorcars?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard began to suspect that he had mistaken his vocation.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER VIII—THE PEER’S ADVICE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">O</span>n the Monday
- morning Richard presented himself at Queen’s Farm. The day was jocund, the
- landscape smiled; in the forty-acre field below the house a steam-plough,
- actuated by two enormous engines and a steel hawser, was working at the
- bidding of a farmer who farmed on principles of his own, and liked to do
- his ploughing at midsummer. The steam-plough rattled and jarred and jolted
- like a humorous and high-spirited leviathan; the birds sang merrily above
- it; the Chiltem Hills stretched away in the far distance, bathed in
- limitless glad sunshine; and Watling Street ran white, dazzling, and
- serene, down the near slope and up the hill towards Dunstable, curtained
- in the dust of rural traffic.
- </p>
- <p>
- In the midst of all these things joyous and content, behold Richard,
- melancholy and full of discontent, ringing at the front-door bell of
- Queen’s Farm. He rang and rang again, but there was no answer. It was
- after eight o’clock, yet not a blind had been drawn up; and the people of
- the house had told him that they took breakfast at seven o’clock! Richard
- had passed a wretched week-end in the village of Hockliffe, his one solace
- having been another chat with Mr. Puddephatt, wine-merchant and
- horse-dealer to the nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood. He was at a
- loss what to do. What, indeed, could he do? The last words of Nolan, the
- detective, had given him pause, hinting, as they did, at strange mysteries
- still unsolved. Supposing that he, Richard, continued his investigations
- and discovered some sinister secret—some crime? The point was that
- Teresa was almost certainly involved in her father’s schemes. Here was the
- difficulty which troubled him. His fancy pictured a court of justice, and
- Raphael Craig and Teresa in the dock, and Richard Redgrave giving evidence
- against them, explaining how he had spied upon them, dogged their
- footsteps, and ultimately arrived at the heart of the mystery. Could he do
- that? Could he look Teresa in the face? And yet, what, after all, was
- Teresa to him—Teresa, whom he had known only three days?
- </p>
- <p>
- That was the question—what was Teresa to him?
- </p>
- <p>
- He rang again, and the jangle of the bell reverberated as though through a
- deserted dwelling. Then he walked round the house by the garden, in the
- hope of encountering Micky, otherwise Mr. Nolan of Scotland Yard. But not
- a sign of Mr. Nolan could he see anywhere. The stable-door was unlocked;
- the mares were contentedly at work on a morning repast of crushed oats,
- followed by clover-hay, but there was no Micky. He began to think that
- perhaps Nolan knew a great deal more than he had chosen to tell during
- that night walk along Watling Street. Perhaps Nolan had returned to
- Scotland Yard armed with all the evidence necessary to conduct a
- magnificent <i>cause célèbre</i> to a successful conclusion. He could see
- the posters of the evening papers: ‘Extraordinary Affair in Bedfordshire:
- A Bank Manager and his Daughter charged with——’
- </p>
- <p>
- Charged with what?
- </p>
- <p>
- Pooh! When he recalled the dignified and absolutely sincere air of Raphael
- Craig at their interview in the drawing-room in the early hours of Sunday
- morning, when he recalled the words of the white-haired man, uttered with
- an appealing glance from under those massive brows: ‘I ask you, Mr.
- Redgrave, to pity the infirmity, the harmless infirmity, of an old man’—when
- he recalled these words, and the manner of the speaker, he could not but
- think that Nolan must be on an absolutely false scent; he could not but
- believe that the Craigs were honest and innocent.
- </p>
- <p>
- He at last got round to the kitchen-door of the house and knocked. The
- door was immediately opened—or, rather, half opened—by Mrs.
- Bridget, who put her head in the small aperture thus made after the manner
- of certain women. She merely looked at him severely, without uttering a
- word.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I wish to see Mr. Craig,’ he said calmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was to tell ye the motor-car is in the shed, and ye are kindly to
- deliver it at Williamson’s.’
- </p>
- <p>
- This was her reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig is not up, then? Miss Craig——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was to tell ye the motor-car is in the shed, and ye are kindly to
- deliver it at Williamson’s.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thank you. I perfectly understand,’ said Richard. ‘Miss Craig, I hope, is
- fully recovered?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was to tell ye the motor-car——’
- </p>
- <p>
- Thinking that this extraordinary Irishwoman was scarcely in full
- possession of her wits that morning, Richard turned away, and proceeded to
- the shed where the motor-cars were kept. The Panhard, he found, was ready
- for action, its petrol-tank duly filled, its bearings oiled, its brasswork
- polished. He sprang aboard and set off down the boreen. As he passed the
- house, gazing at it, one of the drawn blinds on the first-floor seemed to
- twitch aside and then fall straight again. Or was it his imagination?
- </p>
- <p>
- He turned into Watling Street, and then, on the slope, set the car to its
- best pace. He reached the valley in a whirl of dust at a speed of forty
- miles an hour. The great road stretched invitingly ahead. His spirits
- rose. He seemed to recover somewhat from the influence of the mysteries of
- Queen’s Farm.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’ll chuck it,’ he shouted to himself above the noise of the flying car—‘that’s
- what I’ll do. I’ll go and tell Lord Dolmer this very morning that I can’t
- do anything, and prefer to waste no more time on the affair.’
- </p>
- <p>
- After that he laughed, also to himself, and swerved the car neatly to
- avoid half a brick which lay in the middle of the road. It was at that
- moment that he perceived, some distance in front, his friend Mr.
- Puddephatt. Mr. Puddephatt was apparently walking to Dunstable. Richard
- overtook him and drew up.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Let me give you a lift,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0004" id="linkimage-0004"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0126.jpg" alt="0126 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0126.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Mr. Puddephatt surveyed the Panhard askance.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Let you give me a lift?’ Mr. Puddephatt repeated. It was his habit to
- repeat the exact words of an interlocutor before giving a reply. ‘No,
- thanks,’ said he. ‘I’m walking to Dunstable Station for exercise.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What are you going to Dunstable Station for?’ asked Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’m for Lunnon—horse sale at the Elephant and Castle. Perhaps you
- know the Elephant and Castle, sir?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’ll give you a lift to London, if you like,’ said Richard, seizing the
- chance of companionship, of which he was badly in need. ‘We shall get
- there quite as soon as your train.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Puddephatt eyed the car suspiciously. He had no sympathy with
- motor-cars.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Are you afraid?’ asked Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Am I afraid?’ he repeated. ‘No,’ he said, ‘I ain’t afraid. But I’d sooner
- be behind a three-year-old than behind one of them things. But I’ll try it
- and see how I like it. And thank ye, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- So Mr. Puddephatt journeyed with Richard to London.
- </p>
- <p>
- Perhaps it was fate that induced Mr. Puddephatt, when they had discussed
- the weather, horses, motor-cars, steam-ploughs, wine, parish councils,
- London, and daily papers, to turn the conversation on to the subject of
- the Craigs. Mr. Puddephatt had had many and various dealings with the
- Craigs, and he recounted to Richard the whole of them, one after another,
- in detail. It seemed, from his narrative, that he had again and again,
- from sheer good-nature, saved the Craigs from the rapacity and
- unscrupulousness of the village community.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nice young lady, that Miss Teresa,’ observed Mr. Puddephatt.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time they had passed through St. Albans and were well on the way
- to Edgware.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They do say,’ said Mr. Puddephatt, leaning back luxuriously against the
- cushions—‘they do say as she isn’t his daughter—not rightly.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They say what?’ asked Richard quietly, all alert, but not choosing to
- seem so.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Puddephatt reaffirmed his statement.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Who says that?’ asked Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh!’ said Mr. Puddephatt, ‘I dare say it isn’t true. But it’s gotten
- about the village. Ye never know how them tales begin. I dare say it isn’t
- true. Bless ye, there’s lots o’ tales.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh, indeed!’ Richard remarked sagaciously.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Ay!’ said Mr. Puddephatt, filling his pipe, ‘lots o’ tales. That night as
- she ran away from the farm, and Mrs. Bridget had to fetch her back from
- the White Horse—— Everybody said as how the old man
- ill-treated her, daughter or no daughter.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘When was that?
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘A few weeks back,’ said Mr. Puddephatt laconically.
- </p>
- <p>
- This was all he would say.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It’s a queer world, Mr. Puddephatt,’ said Richard aloud. To himself he
- said: ‘Then perhaps she isn’t involved with her father—if he is her
- father.’
- </p>
- <p>
- At length they reached the suburbs of London and had to moderate their
- speed. As they wound in and out through the traffic of Kilburn, Richard’s
- eye chanced to catch the sign of the British and Scottish Bank. He drew up
- opposite the mahogany doors of the bank and, leaving Mr. Puddephatt in
- charge of the car, entered. It was turned ten o’clock. He felt fairly
- certain that Raphael Craig had not left Queen’s Farm, but he wanted to
- convince himself that the bank manager was not always so impeccably prompt
- at business as some people said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I wish to see Mr. Craig,’ he said, just as he had said two hours before
- to Mrs. Bridget.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig,’ said the clerk, ‘is at present taking his annual holiday. He
- will return to business in a fortnight’s time.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard returned to the car curiously annoyed, with a sense of being
- baffled. His thoughts ran back to Teresa. Thirty miles of Watling Street
- now separated them, yet her image was more strenuously before him than it
- had been at any time since she fainted in the silver-heaped stable on
- Saturday night.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ he said to himself positively, ‘I’ll call on Lord Dolmer at once,
- and tell him I won’t have anything further to do with the affair.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He dropped Mr. Puddephatt, whose society, he felt, was perhaps growing
- rather tedious to him, at Oxford Circus, and directed him to an omnibus
- for the Elephant and Castle.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘My address is 4, Adelphi Terrace, in case you need a friend in London at
- any time,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Good-day to ye, sir,’ said Mr. Puddephatt, ‘and thank ye kindly. Shall we
- be seeing you again at Hockliffe soon?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ said Richard shortly. ‘I am not likely ever to come to Hockliffe. My
- business there is absolutely concluded.’
- </p>
- <p>
- They shook hands, full of goodwill. As Mr. Puddephatt’s burly and rustic
- form faded away into the crowd Richard watched it, and thought how
- strange, and, indeed, pathetic, it was that two human beings should
- casually meet, become in a measure intimate, and then part for evermore,
- lost to each other in the mazy wilderness of an immense civilization.
- </p>
- <p>
- He drove the car to Holborn Viaduct, deposited it on the Williamson
- Company’s premises, and then took a bus for Piccadilly. As he did so it
- began to rain, at first gently, then with a more determined steadiness: a
- spell of fine weather which had lasted for several weeks was at last
- broken.
- </p>
- <p>
- In less than half an hour he was at Lord Dolmer’s door in Half-Moon
- Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- This nobleman, as has been stated, was comparatively a poor man. Emphasis
- must now be laid on that word ‘comparatively.’ The baron had a thousand a
- year of his own in stocks, and a small property in Yorkshire which brought
- in a trifle less than nothing a year, after all the outgoings were paid.
- His appointments in the City yielded him fifteen hundred a year. So that
- his net income was a trifle less than two thousand five hundred pounds per
- annum. He was thus removed from the fear of absolute starvation. The
- peerage was not an ancient one—Lord Dolmer was only the second baron—but
- the blood was aristocratic; it had run in the veins of generations of men
- who knew how to live and how to enjoy themselves. Lord Dolmer had
- discreetly remained a bachelor, and, in the common phrase, ‘he did himself
- uncommonly well.’ He had a suite of finely-furnished rooms in Half-Moon
- Street, and his domestic staff there consisted of a valet, who was also
- butler and confidential factotum; a boy, who fulfilled the functions of a
- ‘tiger,’ and employed his leisure hours in not cleaning knives and boots;
- a housekeeper, who wore black silk and guarded the secret of her age; and
- two women servants. It was the valet who answered to Richard’s masterful
- ring; the valet’s name was Simpkin.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Lord Dolmer at home?’ asked Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, sir,’ said Simpkin amicably; ‘his lord-ship is at breakfast.’
- </p>
- <p>
- It was just upon eleven o’clock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’ll tell him you’re here, sir,’ said Simpkin.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another moment Richard was greeting the second Baron Dolmer in the
- dining-room, a stylish little apartment trimmed with oak. Lord Dolmer
- breakfasted in the Continental fashion, taking coffee at eight, and
- déjeuner about eleven. He had the habit of smoking during a meal, and the
- border of his plate, which held the remains of a kidney, showed a couple
- of cigarette-ends. He gave Richard a cigarette from his gold case, and
- Simpkin supplemented this hospitality with a glass of adorable and unique
- sherry.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We will deprive ourselves of your presence, Simpkin,’ said Lord Dolmer,
- who, a very simple and good-natured man at heart, had nevertheless these
- little affectations.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Certainly, sir,’ said the privileged Simpkin, who liked to hear his
- master use these extraordinary phrases.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And now, Redgrave, what is it? You pride yourself, I know, on your
- inscrutable features, but I perceive that there is something up.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well,’ said Richard, ‘it’s about that Craig affair. I thought I’d just
- call and tell you privately that I can’t do anything. I should like, if
- you and Mr. Lock don’t object, to retire from it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Singular!’ exclaimed Lord Dolmer mildly—, ‘highly singular! Tell me
- the details, my friend.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard, rather to his own surprise, began to tell the story, omitting,
- however, all reference to Micky, the detective.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And do you believe Mr. Raphael Craig’s tale?’ asked Lord Dolmer. ‘It
- seems to me scarcely to fit in with some of the facts which you have
- related.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard took breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, I don’t,’ he said plumply.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And yet you prefer to go no further?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And yet I prefer to go no further.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And this Teresa, who frequents circuses and chalk-pits, and faints at
- midnight—what sort of a girl is she?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Miss Craig is a very beautiful woman,’ said Richard stiffly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He tried hard to speak in a natural tone of voice, but failed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘She has bewitched you, Redgrave,’ said Lord Dolmer. ‘It is a clear case.
- She has bewitched you. This won’t do at all—my unimpressionable
- Redgrave knocked over by a country girl of nineteen or so!’
- </p>
- <p>
- He rubbed his hands together, and then lighted another cigarette.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard pulled himself together, and replied, smiling:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not at all.... But really, Lord Dolmer, I want to throw the thing up. So
- far from Miss Craig having bewitched me, I shall, in all probability,
- never see her again.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I see—a heroic sacrifice! Well, I will tell Mr. Simon Lock... what
- shall I tell him?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Tell him I have discovered nothing definite, and own myself beaten as
- regards finding out the true origin of Raphael Craig’s eccentricities. But
- tell him, also, that I am convinced that Raphael Craig is nothing worse
- than eccentric.’ Richard paused, and repeated: ‘Yes, nothing worse than
- eccentric.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, Redgrave, I won’t tell him that you are convinced of that.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And why not?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Because, forgive me, I am convinced that you are not convinced of it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- There was an interval of silence, during which two spirals of smoke
- ascended gracefully to the panelled ceiling of Lord Dolmer’s diningroom.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Perhaps I am not,’ Richard answered calmly. ‘Tell Simon Lock what you
- like, then, only make it plain that I retire. I ask no fee, since I have
- earned none. I wash my hands of the whole business. I am within my rights
- in so doing.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Certainly you are within your rights,’ said Lord Dolmer. ‘And d’you know,
- Redgrave, I am rather glad that you are retiring from the case.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If I tell you my reason you will regard it as strictly confidential?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard assented.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is this: Mr. Simon Lock has a mysterious animus against Raphael Craig;
- what the cause of that animus is neither I nor any of the other directors
- can guess, but it exists. (Remember, all this is between friends.) It is
- Mr. Lock who has forced on this secret inquiry. The other directors were
- against a proceeding which is rather underhand and contrary to the best
- traditions of the bank. But Mr. Simon Lock had his way.’ Here Lord Dolmer
- lighted another cigarette and resumed. ‘I ask you, Why should the bank
- interfere? A bank manager has a perfect right to live where he likes, and,
- outside office hours, to do what he likes, so long as he obeys the laws of
- the country and the laws of respectability. Mr. Lock laid stress on the
- fact that Raphael Craig had been fined for furious motor-car driving. But
- what of that? It is a misfortune which may overtake the wisest of us. You,
- my dear Redgrave, well know that even I have several times only narrowly
- escaped the same ignominious fate. The fact is—and I tell you this
- candidly—there is something between Mr. Simon Lock and Raphael
- Craig. When Mr. Lock joined the Board one of his first actions was to
- suggest that Craig should be asked to resign—why, no one knows.
- Craig is one of the most able bank managers in London. He would long since
- have been promoted to a superior post but for Mr. Simon Lock’s consistent
- opposition. For these reasons, as I say, I am glad that you have retired
- from the case. For anything I know Raphael Craig may be one of the biggest
- scoundrels at large. I don’t care. The point is that he has not been
- fairly treated by us—that is to say, by Simon Lock. I have the
- honour to be an Englishman, and fair play is my creed.’ His lordship was
- silent for a space, and then he said, by way of finale, ‘Of course, I rely
- absolutely upon your discretion, Redgrave.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard nodded.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What you say is very interesting,’ he remarked. ‘It is conceivable, then,
- that Mr. Lock, not to be daunted by my defection, may insist on employing
- another private detective?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Quite conceivable,’ Lord Dolmer admitted.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In that case,’ Richard began, and then stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What?’ asked Lord Dolmer.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh, nothing!’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- Lord Dolmer smiled, and, still smiling, said:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘One word of advice, my friend: forget her.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why?’ Richard questioned absently, and bit his lip.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Forget her,’ repeated the Baron.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER IX—A VISIT
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ell, he
- determined, with the ferocious resoluteness of a dogged soul, to follow
- Lord Dolmer’s advice. He said to himself that there ought to be no special
- difficulty in doing so, since only three days had passed since he first
- saw this creature whom he was enjoined to forget. He walked slowly along
- Piccadilly, down Regent Street, and through Trafalgar Square to his little
- office in Adelphi Terrace. Some trifling business awaited him there, and
- this occupied him till the hour of luncheon. He then went out and lunched,
- as his custom was, at Gatti’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard’s usual mode of life was extremely simple. His office, a single
- small room, was on the third-floor of No. 4, Adelphi Terrace. On the
- fourth-floor he had a bedroom, rather larger than the office, and quite
- commodious enough for the uses of a young bachelor who had no fancy
- tastes. When occasion needed he used the office as a sitting-room. All his
- meals he took out of doors. His breakfasts, which cost him fourpence, he
- consumed at a vegetarian restaurant hard by; his luncheons and dinners
- were eaten at Gatti’s. Frequently at the latter establishment he would be
- content with a dish of macaroni and half a pint of bitter, at an
- expenditure of eightpence—a satisfying repast. His total expenses
- were thus very small, and hence, although his income was irregular and
- fluctuating, he nevertheless continually saved money. It was seldom that
- less than one hundred pounds stood between him and the workhouse. In case
- of necessity he could have lived for a whole year, or even two years, on
- one hundred pounds. So he was always in an independent position. He could
- always afford not to bend the knee to any employer or client. He was, in
- fact, just what he looked, a shrewd and confident man, successful and well
- dressed, who knew how to take care of himself. He spent more on his
- wardrobe than on anything else, and this, not because he was a coxcomb,
- but from purely commercial motives. He accepted the world as he found the
- world, and he had learnt that clothes counted.
- </p>
- <p>
- All afternoon he did nothing but idle about in his office, wondering
- whether by that time Lord Dolmer had told Simon Lock of the barren result
- of his inquiries, and wondering also what the upshot of their interview
- would be. At seven he dined at Gatti’s. At eight he returned to Adelphi
- Terrace, and ascended directly to his bedroom. Opening the window wide, he
- placed an easy-chair in front of it, lighted a pipe, and sat down to
- perpend upon things in general.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard had chosen this bedroom because of its view. It looked out at an
- angle on the river Thames, stateliest and most romantic of busy streams.
- It is doubtful if any capital in Europe, unless it be Buda-Pesth, the twin
- city on the blue Danube, can show a scene equal in beauty to the Thames
- Embankment and the Thames when the hues and mysteries of sunset are upon
- them. This particular evening was more than commonly splendid, for after a
- day of heavy rain the clouds had retreated, and the sun burst out in
- richest radiance. The red jury-sails of the barges as they floated
- up-stream with the flowing tide took on the tints of the ruby. The vast
- masonry of Waterloo Bridge and of Somerset House seemed like gigantic and
- strange temples uncannily suspended over the surface of the glooming
- water. In the west Westminster Bridge and the Houses of Parliament stood
- silhouetted in profound black against the occidental sky. The sky was like
- Joseph’s coat there, but in the east it was like a maiden’s scarf.
- </p>
- <p>
- Up from the Embankment rose the hum and roar and rattle of London’s
- ceaseless traffic. The hansoms had lighted their starry lamps, and they
- flitted below like fireflies in the shadows of a wood. No stranger could
- have guessed that they were mere hackney vehicles plying at the fixed rate
- of two miles for one shilling, and sixpence for every subsequent mile or
- part of a mile.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ Richard mused, ‘this is all very well, and I am enjoying it, and
- nothing could be very much better; but the fact remains that I haven’t
- earned a cent this blessed day. The fact also remains that I am a bit of a
- frost. Further, and thirdly, the fact remains that the present state of
- affairs must be immediately altered.’
- </p>
- <p>
- His pipe went out.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’ll look in at the Empire,’ he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- Now, by what process of reasoning a young man who, on his own confession,
- had drawn a blank day could arrive at the conclusion that the proper thing
- to do was to go to the Empire we cannot explain. But so it was. He looked
- at his watch. The hour was nine-fifteen. Half an hour yet, for no
- self-respecting man-about-town ever thinks of entering the Empire before a
- quarter to ten! At this point Richard probably fell into a doze. At any
- rate, a knock on his bedroom-door had to be repeated several times before
- it attracted his attention.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What is it?’ he answered at length.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘A person to see you, sir,’ said a feminine voice, not without asperity.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘A person to see me! Oh! ah! er!... Show him into the office. I’ll be down
- directly.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He descended to the third-floor, and, instead of the Somerset House
- acquaintance whom he had expected, he found the very last person that by
- all the laws of chance ought to have been in his office—he found
- Mrs. Bridget.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mrs. Bridget turned round and faced him as he went into the little
- paper-strewn room. She was dressed in black alpaca, with a
- curiously-shaped flat black bonnet. Her hands, which were decently covered
- with black gloves, she held folded in front of her.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard said nothing at first. He was too astounded, and—shall we
- say?—pleased. He scented what the reporters call ‘further
- revelations’ of an interesting nature.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Good-avenin’,’ said Bridget; ‘and can ye see a lady privately?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Certainly,’ said Richard, ‘I can see you privately; but,’ he added, with
- a mischievous smile, ‘I’m afraid our interview won’t amount to much unless
- you’re more communicative than you were this morning.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Bless and save ye, sir! ’tis not meself that wants ye—’tis
- her.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Her?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The misthress sent me up to find out whisht whether ye could be seen.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Miss Craig is outside?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The same, sir. Ye’ll see her?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘See her? Naturally I will see her. But—but—how did you
- discover my address?’
- </p>
- <p>
- By this time they were hurrying down the multitudinous steps to the
- ground-floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure, we called at the Williamson Company, and they said you’d left and
- they didn’t know your address. And then we came out, and who should we see
- but Mr. Puddephatt leading a pony. ’Twas the Virgin’s own miracle!
- “Hullo!” he says, lifting his hat.
- </p>
- <p>
- “Puddephatt,” says my mistress——’
- </p>
- <p>
- The recital was never finished, for at that moment they reached the
- front-door. In the roadway stood the Décauville motor with lights
- gleaming. By the side of the Décauville stood Teresa Craig enveloped in a
- gray mackintosh.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard’s face showed his intense pleasure at the most unlooked-for
- encounter.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Miss Craig,’ he said eagerly, ‘I hope you are in no trouble. Can I be of
- any assistance?’
- </p>
- <p>
- She glanced at him coldly, inimically.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she replied with bitterness, and then looked about—the
- little street was deserted—‘I have come to seek an explanation from
- you. If you are an honourable man you will give it. And I have come, much
- against my inclination, to ask a favour. Bridget, take care of the motor.’
- </p>
- <p>
- She swept imperially before him into the portals of the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ said Teresa, in a tone which clearly indicated that she
- meant to lead the conversation, ‘we have not seen each other since I was
- so foolish as to faint in the—the shed.’
- </p>
- <p>
- They sat together in Richard’s little office. It was not without
- difficulty that he had induced her even to sit down. Her demeanour was
- hostile. Her fine, imperious face had a stormy and implacable look—a
- look almost resentful, and Richard felt something of a culprit before that
- gaze. He met her eyes, however, with such bravery as he could muster.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not since then,’ he assented. ‘I trust you are fully recovered, Miss
- Craig.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Ignoring the utterance of this polite hope, she resumed:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have to thank you for the service you rendered on Saturday night.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It was nothing,’ he said, in a voice as cold and formal as her own.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It was everything,’ she corrected him gravely. ‘I might have lost my life
- but for you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am happy to have been of any assistance,’ he said. But his thoughts
- ran: ‘She hasn’t come to London to tell me this. What the deuce, then, has
- she come for?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Bridget tells me you had an interview with my father that night. May I
- ask what passed?’ Teresa continued.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You have not seen your father since then?’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have not.’ Her voice seemed momentarily to break.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Or doubtless he would have told you?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Doubtless.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard determined to try a bold stroke.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I understood from Mr. Craig that he wished our interview to be strictly
- confidential.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What?’ she cried. ‘From me? From his daughter?’
- </p>
- <p>
- She stood up, suddenly angry.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If, indeed, you are his daughter,’ said Richard quietly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Her eyes blazed, and her hands shook; but she collected herself, and
- smiled bitterly:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You, then, have heard that silly rumour?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘By chance I heard it,’ he admitted.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And you believe it?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I neither believe it nor disbelieve it. What has it to do with me?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Exactly,’ she said; ‘a very proper question. What has it to do with you?
- Listen, Mr. Redgrave. I have the most serious reasons for asking you to
- tell me what passed between yourself and my father on Saturday night.’
- </p>
- <p>
- A look of feminine appeal passed swiftly across her features. Fleeting as
- it was, it sufficed to conquer Richard. A minute ago he had meant to
- dominate her. Now he was dominated.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will tell you,’ he said simply, and told her—told her everthing
- without any reservation.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then my father did not accuse you of being a professional spy?’ she
- demanded when Richard had finished.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ said Richard, somewhat abashed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He did not accuse you of having entered our house under entirely false
- pretences?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ said Richard, still more abashed.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I wonder,’ she said calmly, glancing out of the window, ‘I wonder why he
- did not.’
- </p>
- <p>
- She made the remark as though she were speculating privately upon a
- curious but not very important point.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Miss Craig!’ he exclaimed, with an air of being affronted.
- </p>
- <p>
- I read in a famous book the other day,’ she went on, ‘these words: “A
- murderer is less loathsome to us than a spy. The murderer may have acted
- on a sudden mad impulse; he may be penitent and amend; but a spy is always
- a spy, night and day, in bed, at table, as he walks abroad; his vileness
- pervades every moment of his life.”’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Do you mean to insinuate,’ said Richard, forced to defend himself, ‘that
- I am a professional spy?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I not only mean to insinuate it, I mean to assert it,’ she announced
- loftily, and then continued more quickly: ‘Mr. Redgrave, why did you come
- to spy on us? For two whole days I trusted you, and I liked you. But that
- night, as soon as I saw you behind me in the shed, the truth burst upon
- me. It was that, more than anything else, that caused me to faint. Why did
- you do it, Mr. Redgrave? My father liked you; I—I—I——’
- She stopped for a moment. ‘Surely a man of your talents could have found a
- profession more honourable than that of a spy?’
- </p>
- <p>
- She looked at him, less angry than reproachful.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am a private detective,’ said Richard sullenly, ‘not a spy. My business
- is perfectly respectable.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why trouble to play with words?’ she exclaimed impatiently. ‘We took you
- for a gentleman. In our simplicity we took you for a gentleman.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Which I trust I am,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Prove it!’ she cried.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will prove it in any manner you choose.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I accept your promise,’ she said. ‘I have travelled up to London to make
- an appeal to you to abandon this inquiry which you have undertaken—at
- whose instance I know not.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I cannot abandon it now,’ he said mischievously.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why?’ she queried.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Question for question,’ he retorted. ‘How did you discover that I was a
- professional spy, as you call it?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Bah!’ she replied. ‘Simply by asking. When I got your address, the rest
- was easy. So you decline to be a gentleman in the manner that I suggest? I
- might have anticipated as much. I might have known that I was coming to
- London on a fool’s errand. And yet something in your face hinted to me
- that perhaps after all——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Miss Craig,’ he said earnestly, ‘I cannot, abandon the inquiry now,
- because I have already abandoned it. I came down to London this morning
- with the intention of doing nothing more in the matter, and by noon to-day
- I had informed my clients to that effect.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was not, then, mistaken in you,’ she murmured.
- </p>
- <p>
- To his intense astonishment there was the tremor of a sob in that proud
- voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not entirely mistaken,’ he said, with a faint smile.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What induced you to give up the business of spying upon us?’ she asked,
- looking at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How can I tell?’ he answered; ‘conscience, perhaps, though a private
- detective is not supposed to possess such a thing. Perhaps I did it
- because I reciprocated your sentinents towards me, Miss Craig.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘My sentiments towards you?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ he said audaciously. ‘You said just how that you liked me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Instead of taking offence, she positively smiled. She had the courage of a
- guileless heart.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And let me tell you, Miss Craig,’ he went on, and his earnestness became
- passionate, ‘that I will do anything that lies in my power to serve you. I
- don’t care what it is. I don’t care what trouble you are in; count on me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How do you know that I am in trouble?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I don’t know,’ he said; ‘I merely feel it Miss Craig, let me help you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You don’t know what you are saying,’ she replied evasively.
- </p>
- <p>
- He jumped up and seized her hand, the small hand, browned by summer
- sunshine.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Let me help you,’ he repeated.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If you knew,’ she said, hiding her face, ‘what trouble I am in!’
- </p>
- <p>
- He saw that she was crying. She drew away her hand impulsively.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will help you!’ he exclaimed; ‘the spy the scorned spy, insists on
- helping you. No, tell me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Let me go,’ she said. ‘I came to London to entreat your silence and
- inaction. I went about the affair in a strange and silly way, but it
- happens that I have succeeded. You have promised to do nothing further.
- That suffices Let me go.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You shall not go,’ he almost shouted; ‘I tell you you shall not go until
- you have confided in me. I owe you some reparation, and I positively
- insist on giving it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- She raised her face and gazed at him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am the child of all misfortune,’ she said ‘as my country is the most
- unfortunate of countries. Mr. Redgrave, my father has disappeared.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh!’ he said, as if to say, ‘Is that all?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And I dare not search for him.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They told me at the bank that he had gone on his annual holiday.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then you inquired at the bank?’ she asked swiftly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It was my last act of spying,’ he said. ‘Why dare you not search for your
- father, Miss Craig?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Because—because I might find more than I wished to find.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You talk in riddles,’ he said firmly. ‘We can do nothing here; let us go
- back to Hockiffe.
- </p>
- <p>
- I will accompany you, and on the way you shall answer my questions. I have
- many to put to you. Leave everything to me; imagine that I am your
- brother. I have often laughed at the man’s phrase to a woman, “I would lay
- down my life for you,” but at this moment I feel what it means. Do not
- mistake me; do not think I am talking wildly. Perhaps I have a better idea
- of your trouble than you think. But, in any case, you must trust me as you
- trusted me when first you saw me. You must rely on me. Come, let us go.’
- </p>
- <p>
- She rose and moved towards the door, ‘Thanks,’ she said, nothing more than
- that—‘thanks.’
- </p>
- <p>
- In one part of his mind Richard wondered at himself, in another he felt
- curiously and profoundly happy.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER X—MONEY-MAKING
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>hey passed
- northwards through the night of London in the Décauville car, Richard and
- Teresa side by side on the front seats, old Mrs. Bridget in her black
- alpaca behind, up Regent Street, along Oxford Street, up the interminable
- Edgware Road, through Kilburn, and so on to Edgware and the open road and
- country.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Bridget knows all my secrets, Mr. Redgrave,’ said Teresa. ‘Moreover, she
- has no ears unless I wish it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure, miss,’ said Bridget, ‘more gets into my head than goes out. ’Tis
- for all the world like a Jew’s pocket.’
- </p>
- <p>
- This fragment of conversation was caused by Richard’s sudden stoppage in
- the middle or a remark about Micky, who, Teresa told him, had disappeared
- concurrently with her father.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What were you going to say about Micky?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was going to say,’ Richard answered, ‘that things are not what they
- seem.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You mean that Micky, too, was a——’
- </p>
- <p>
- She hesitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, like me, only rather more professional.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Bridget told me this morning that she had heard poor father and Micky at
- high words in the middle of last night. After that she says there was a
- silence for a long time, and then father called her up and gave her the
- message for you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The sentences were spoken without hesitation, and yet in a strangely
- unnatural voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You’re forgetting one little thing, miss.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Hush, Bridget!’ Teresa exclaimed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If I am to help you I must be in possession of the facts.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Tell him, miss; tell the gintleman, do. The gintleman is a gintleman.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa sat up straight in the speeding car. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘you must
- know. There was a revolver-shot. Bridget says she heard the sound of a
- revolver-shot. Oh, Mr. Redgrave! what does it mean? I dared not tell you
- of that before. If my father——’
- </p>
- <p>
- She ceased.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Micky has left no trace behind?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘None.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Where did the sound of the shot come from?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure, from the drawing-room, where the master always kept his
- pistol-thing in the clock-case. Master and the scoundrel Micky were
- talking in there.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Suppose,’ suggested Richard, ‘that it was Micky who had a revolver.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then he missed his aim,’ said Bridget, ‘for the master came to me
- afterwards on the upper landing as sound as a bell.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Did he seem agitated?’ Richard asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not he! Why should a gintleman seem agitated because he has shot a
- scoundrel?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Bridget appeared to glory in the idea that Raphael Craig might indeed have
- shot the Scotland Yard detective.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And since then you have seen nothing of either your father or Micky?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nothing whatever,’ said Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And you have no notion where they are?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘None; at least—no—none.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I observed this morning,’ said Richard quietly, ‘that the new electric
- car was not in the shed.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure, and the master must have ridden off on it with the corpse——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Bridget, silence!’ said Teresa imperatively.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard had an uncanny vision of Raphael Craig flying from justice on the
- electric car, with the corpse of a murdered detective hidden somewhere
- behind. The vision struck him, though, as amusing. He could not believe in
- the possibility of such a deed on the part of Raphael Craig. Yet he could
- see that Bridget’s doubtless fanciful and highly-coloured report of what
- had passed in the night had so worked on Teresa’s brain, already disturbed
- by sinister events. He could understand now why she had so incontinently
- flown to London, in the wild hope of stopping all further inquiries into
- her father’s proceedings.
- </p>
- <p>
- The car climbed over the hill on which stands the town of St. Albans, and
- then slipped easily down towards Redbourne and the twelve miles of lonely
- and straight Watling Street that separates St. Albans from Dunstable. On
- this interminable and monotonous stretch of road there are only two
- villages; mile succeeds mile with a sort of dogged persistency, and the
- nocturnal traveller becomes, as it were, hypnotized by the ribbon-like
- highway that stretches eternally in front of him and behind him. It was
- fortunate that the car ran well. Dunstable was reached in forty minutes
- after leaving St. Albans, and then as they passed into the mysterious
- cutting—resembling a Welsh mountain pass—to the north of the
- ancient borough, the thoughts of all flew forward to the empty farmhouse
- which Teresa and her attendant had left in the morning. As soon as you
- emerge from the cutting you can, in daylight, see Queen’s Farm quite
- plainly on the opposite slope of the valley, two miles away. But at night,
- of course, you can see nothing of the house of Mr. Raphael Craig unless it
- is lighted up.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure, the master’s returned!’ old Mrs. Bridget exclaimed.
- </p>
- <p>
- A light faintly twinkled from the direction of Queen’s Farm.
- </p>
- <p>
- This simple phenomenon produced its effect on both Teresa and Richard. The
- old man had come back, and one mystery, therefore, would at length be
- solved—provided that the old man chose to open his mouth! The idea
- of thus approaching a revelation somehow impressed Raphael Craig’s
- daughter and her companion with a sense of awe, a sense almost of fear.
- They were secretly afraid lest they might encounter something which it
- would have been better not to encounter. Each in fancy pictured Raphael
- Craig alone in the house engaged in a strange business. Each silently
- asked the question, ‘Where is Micky?’ and answered it with a vague and
- terrible surmise. The feeling that Raphael Craig was responsible for the
- disappearance of Micky grew on Richard especially. At first he had scouted
- it, but he gradually persuaded himself that a man like Raphael Craig was
- capable of most things, even to disposing of a detective. If Raphael Craig
- had indeed any criminal secret to hide, and he found out that Micky, a
- Scotland Yard detective, was prying into the secret, Richard guessed that
- the fate of Micky might hazardously tremble in the balance.
- </p>
- <p>
- And another aspect of the affair troubled Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If your father has returned,’ he said to Teresa, ‘how shall I explain my
- presence, or, rather, how will you explain it? It seems to me that I
- scarcely know myself why I am here with you on this car. I came on the
- assumption that your father was gone. His presence would make me a rather
- unnecessary item, wouldn’t it?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Who can tell?’ Teresa murmured absently; and Richard was rather chagrined
- at this peculiar reply.
- </p>
- <p>
- The car was now down in the lowest part of the valley, and the house for
- the moment out of sight. When, as the car breasted the hill, the summit of
- the slope reappeared to the view, there was no light in Queen’s Farm; the
- twinkling illumination was extinguished. Only the plain outline of the
- house stood faintly visible under the waning moon.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Perhaps father has gone to bed,’ said Teresa, with a desperate
- affectation of lightness. ‘I wonder what he would think when he found the
- house empty.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Bridget emitted a weird sound which was between a moan and a groan.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Happen ’twas a fairy light we saw,’ she said, the deep instincts
- of Celtic superstition always rising thus at the slightest invitation.
- </p>
- <p>
- The car at length turned into the boreen, and so reached the house. The
- gate was opened, and Richard dexterously twisted the car into the drive.
- The house—gaunt, bare, sinister—showed no sign whatever of
- life.
- </p>
- <p>
- The three occupants of the car descended, and stood for a second within
- the porch.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The latch-key, Bridget,’ said Teresa curtly. Bridget produced the
- latch-key, but on putting it into the keyhole Teresa discovered that the
- door was already unfastened. A push, and it swung backwards, revealing the
- gloom of the hall.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Shall I go first?’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If you please,’ Teresa replied eagerly, and Richard stepped within. The
- women followed.
- </p>
- <p>
- He struck a match, which revealed a low bookcase to the left, and on this
- a candle. He lighted the candle.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Stay here,’ he said, ‘and I will search the house.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure,’ said Bridget, ‘we’ll stand or fall together. Where you go, me and
- the mistress go too.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard could not avoid a smile. Together, then, they searched the house
- from roof to cellar, and found—nothing at all. Apparently not a
- single thing had been displaced or touched. What could have been the
- origin of the light which they had seen? Had Mr. Craig returned only to
- depart again? They stood in the hall asking these questions, which they
- were unable to answer. Bridget, however, assured that there was nothing of
- an unusual nature within the house, recovered her wits, and set to work to
- light lamps in the hall, drawing-room, and kitchen. Richard and Teresa
- were alone together in the hall. Richard, glancing idly round, stooped
- down and picked from the floor a gold-handled riding-whip which lay almost
- under the bookcase. It was a lady’s whip.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘A pretty whip,’ he remarked. ‘Yours, I suppose?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa went very white.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It isn’t mine,’ she said. ‘I’ve never seen it before. I——’
- </p>
- <p>
- At that very moment there was the sound of hoofs on the gravel of the
- drive. Richard started for the door, but Teresa clutched him and held him
- back with an action almost mechanical. Her eyes showed apprehension,
- mingled with another feeling which Richard almost thought was joy. The
- hoofs came up the drive and stopped in front of the door, still ajar. The
- two within the house could just discern the legs of a horse and the skirt
- of a riding-habit. The rider jumped down, and then cautiously pushed
- against the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Juana!’ cried Teresa, and rushed into the arms of the newcomer.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard at once recognised the equestrian of Bosco’s circus—tall,
- dark, Spanish, alluring, mysterious.
- </p>
- <p>
- The two girls exchanged a passionate kiss, and then stood apart and gazed
- at each other, Richard discreetly stopped outside and held the horse’s
- bridle. In this animal he recognised the strawberry-roan mare, also of
- Bosco’s circus. In a moment the two girls came out on to the porch.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ said Teresa, ‘let me introduce you to my sister. She had
- called here before, and, finding no one, had left. She came back for her
- whip. Juana, I am in great trouble. Mr. Redgrave has very kindly come to
- my assistance.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard bowed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come into the drawing-room,’ said Teresa, ‘You can tie the mare up to
- this tree, Juana.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I expect she won’t mind the car.’
- </p>
- <p>
- When they were all seated in the drawing-room Richard immediately
- perceived that the two girls meant, at any rate partially, to make a
- confidant of him. They talked quite openly before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Suppose father should come in?’ said the circus-girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You must hide,’ said Teresa positively, and, turning to Richard, she went
- on: ‘Mr. Redgrave, my father has not seen my sister for many months, and
- there are reasons why he should not see her now. You will understand——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Perfectly,’ assented Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘On the whole,’ said Juana, ‘I am quite prepared to see my—father.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The door of the drawing-room burst open, and Bridget’s head appeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Miss Teresa, there’s someone in the sheds,’ she cried. ‘I heard a noise
- like that of the Banshee of MacGillicuddy. Eh! Miss Juana, and is it
- yesilf I see?’
- </p>
- <p>
- At sight of the circus-girl Bridget wept, but she did not leave the
- vicinity of the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Turn out every light,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- No sooner had he said the word than he leapt up and extinguished the lamp
- which hung from the middle of the ceiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Run, Mrs. Bridget,’ he commanded, ‘and put out the others.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Bridget departed.
- </p>
- <p>
- The other three went out into the porch, and at Richard’s suggestion Juana
- led her mare away behind the house. They were obliged to leave the car
- where it stood, since it was impossible to move it without noise.
- </p>
- <p>
- The house was now in darkness. Bridget had joined the rest in the porch.
- They stood braced, tense, silent, waiting—waiting for they knew not
- what.
- </p>
- <p>
- Presently was heard the ‘birr’ of the electric motor-car from the
- direction of the outbuildings, and then the vehicle flashed down the
- boreen at fifteen or twenty miles an hour. Owing partly to the darkness
- and partly to the height of the glazed ‘cab’ of the machine, a contrivance
- designed by Mr. Craig himself, the driver of the car could not be
- recognised, but both Richard and Teresa thought that it could be no other
- than Raphael Craig, and, further, that he was alone. Just as the car
- passed Juana’s mare whinnied, and there was an answering whinny from the
- orchard field where, as it afterwards appeared, Mr. Craig’s two mares had
- been turned out to grass. But the car showed no inclination to halt.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure, the master will be after taking it away!’ Bridget exclaimed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Taking what away, Bridget?’ Juana asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Micky’s cor——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Silence, Bridget, you foolish creature!’ Teresa stopped her. ‘If you
- can’t talk sense you must go and sit in the kitchen alone.’
- </p>
- <p>
- This threat resulted in a very complete silence on the part of Bridget.
- </p>
- <p>
- The car turned southwards down Watling Street.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He is going to the chalk-pit,’ said Richard quietly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Perhaps we had better follow discreetly and see what happens,’ said
- Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was about to suggest that,’ said Richard; ‘but we ought not all to go.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And why not, Mr. Redgrave?’ Bridget demanded, in alarm at the prospect of
- being left.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Because—well, because we had better not,’ said Richard. ‘Four will
- make too heavy a load for this car.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Juana,’ said Teresa, ‘you will stay here with Bridget. Mr. Redgrave and
- myself will reconnoitre, find out what we can, and return to you with as
- little delay as possible.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Very well,’ said Juana, while old Bridget sighed a sad resignation.
- </p>
- <p>
- In half a minute they had started and were following the car down the road
- at a pace which would have been dangerous had not Watling Street been
- deserted at one o’clock in the morning. The moon still shone, but her
- light scarcely did more than disclose the sides of the road. The electric
- car was too far ahead to be discerned.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Miss Craig,’ said Richard, ‘your suspicions of what may have happened are
- obviously more serious than you care to admit. We do not know the nature
- of the adventure upon which we have embarked. Let me beg you to be frank
- with me. So far as your knowledge goes, has Mr. Craig committed any act,
- wittingly or unwittingly, which might bring him within the meshes of the
- law?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Do you mean, do I know whether he has killed Micky, the detective?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ said Richard sharply; ‘I mean no such thing. Go back earlier than
- the last few days. Go back a few years, and consider. Mr. Craig told me
- last night that a relative had died and left him a hundred thousand pounds
- in silver.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Teresa; ‘that was Great-uncle Andrew, the man who went to
- Mexico and then turned “queer.” Father has often told me of him.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You believe that you once had a Great-uncle Andrew, who left all this
- silver to your father?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Certainly. I remember father having all the papers and things to sign,
- and him fetching the money in casks on his car.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Fetching it from where?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh, I don’t know. I forget. Some place near London.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What should you say if I told you that you never had a Great-uncle
- Andrew, or that if there was such a person, he never left your father any
- money?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But we went into mourning!’ said Teresa naïvely.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Possibly,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Do you mean to say that poor father made it all up?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘With the greatest respect for your father, Miss Craig, I suspect that
- that was the case. I do not know for certain, but I suspect. Have you,
- too, not had suspicions? Answer that candidly.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa hesitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ she said in a low voice. ‘But I swear to you that I believed my
- father.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The car went through the tiny village of Chalk Hill, and their talk was
- suspended.
- </p>
- <p>
- Further up the road they could see the open; gate which led by a broad
- field-path to the chalk-pit, the path along which Richard had seen the
- elephant dragging the other motor-car two evenings ago. Richard directed
- the car gently through the gate and then stopped; they dismounted, and
- crossed the great field on foot.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If the matter of the silver was all fair and square,’ said Richard, ‘why
- did your father deal with the coin so mysteriously? How did he excuse
- himself to you when he asked your assistance?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He didn’t excuse himself,’ said Teresa stiffly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I acted as he told me. I was his daughter. It was not my place to put
- questions. Besides, I enjoyed the business. Remember, Mr. Redgrave, that I
- am not a middle-aged woman.’
- </p>
- <p>
- As they got on to the highest part of the field they saw at the far end
- the dim shape of the electric car.
- </p>
- <p>
- They crept cautiously towards it, and saw no sign of Raphael Craig. At
- length, avoiding the zigzag path that led down into the pit, they reached
- the point where the chalk had been cut precipitously away. Still moving
- with all possible discretion, Richard lay on his stomach and looked over.
- Twenty-five feet below he saw Raphael Craig standing, apparently in an
- attitude of triumph, over the prone form of Micky, otherwise Nolan, the
- detective. A lantern held by Craig showed plainly the drawn and stiffened
- features of the man from Scotland Yard.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0005" id="linkimage-0005"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0170.jpg" alt="0170 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0170.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Before Richard could prevent her, Teresa had also looked over.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘God!’ she cried softly. ‘Is my father a——’
- </p>
- <p>
- She stopped. The old man glanced mildly upwards.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard and Teresa with one accord ran along the edge of the pit, and then
- down the zigzag path till they stood facing Raphael Craig, the prone body
- of the detective between them.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What is this?’ questioned the old man coldly, pushing back the gray hairs
- from his forehead. ‘Spying again?’
- </p>
- <p>
- He looked intently at Richard. He seemed to ignore the silent form on the
- ground.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Father,’ cried Teresa, ‘if you have killed him, fly. Take the motor-car
- and get away as far as you can and as fast as you can. Mr. Redgrave and I——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Killed him!’ Raphael Craig exclaimed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why should I kill him? I found him lying here—here where I came to
- seek him. He must have fallen over this miniature precipice.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He isn’t dead,’ said Teresa eagerly; she had knelt beside the detective.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I did not suppose that he was. But if he had been it would have been only
- a just punishment.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Had we not better carry him to the house, sir?’ Richard suggested
- quietly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As you wish,’ said Raphael. ‘It appears that you have taken charge of our
- affairs.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Redgrave is here at my urgent request, father,’ said Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You!’ Raphael gazed at her hard. ‘You! Shall I curse you as I cursed your
- sister?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Nevertheless, he helped Richard to carry the body of the detective up the
- path and into the field—a task of considerable difficulty. When they
- reached the electric car they put the lifeless organism into the back part
- of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Take him,’ said Mr. Craig to Richard succinctly—‘take him off.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And you?’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will follow.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard and Teresa got into the electric car and moved off down the field.
- They spoke not a word. Arrived at the house, the detective was taken
- upstairs and put into a bed by the three women. The lamps had been
- relighted. The little man had regained consciousness, but he was too
- feeble to give any utterance to his thoughts. He pointed weakly to his
- head, whereon his nurses found a lump, but no other sign of injury. They
- surmised that he was suffering from concussion of the brain, how caused
- they could only guess. He drank a little brandy-and-water, and lay
- extended on the bed as though unwilling almost to put himself to the
- exertion of breathing.
- </p>
- <p>
- The noise of the Décauville sounded outside. Teresa sprang to the window.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Here is father, Juana,’ she said anxiously. ‘If he should come upstairs——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Go down and stop him from coming upstairs. Bridget and I will attend to
- this poor fellow.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Her voice was charged with sympathy as she glanced at the sufferer on the
- bed. The reference to himself caused the detective to open his eyes.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I fell over the edge of the pit,’ he murmured faintly. ‘It was owing to
- the short grass being so slippery after the rain.’ He had no Irish accent
- now.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he closed his eyes again.
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa gave a sigh of relief as she left the room. Her father, then, was
- not in thought a murderer.
- </p>
- <p>
- As she entered the hall from the stairs
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig and Richard came in through the front-door. They had housed
- the two cars.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Where is he?’ asked Raphael of his daughter.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In the back bedroom, father. He is not seriously hurt.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will go up and have a look at him,’ said Raphael, actuated apparently
- by mere idle curiosity.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, father, don’t!’ Teresa pleaded. ‘Bridget is looking after him, and I
- believe he is just going to sleep.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael gave a gesture of assent
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And now, sir,’ he said to Richard, opening the drawing-room door, ‘a word
- with you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The two men passed into the drawing-room. Raphael was closing the door
- when Teresa stepped forward.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I also have a word to say, father,’ she remarked firmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Say it to me afterwards, then,’ he replied briefly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No. It is a word that must be said now.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man, smiling slightly and ironically, pulled the door open and
- allowed his daughter to enter the room.
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig sat down on the Chesterfield sofa, but Richard and Teresa
- remained standing, Richard, for his part, determined that there should be
- no beating about the bush; and he had not the least intention of allowing
- the old man to put him in the wrong by asking difficult questions. So he
- began at once, fixing his eyes on a greenish-coloured newspaper that stuck
- out of Mr. Craig’s right-hand pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig,’ he said, ‘let me cut a long story short. I came up here a few
- days ago to bring you a Williamson electric car. True, I was for the time
- being a genuine employe of the Williamson Company, but that was not my
- real business. I confess to you, Mr. Craig, that I am a private inquiry
- agent. It was in my professional capacity that I visited your House.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Ah!’ said Mr. Craig. ‘You were, then, after all, a spy? I had guessed
- correctly.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Spy?’ Richard repeated calmly. ‘Yes; it is an epithet that has been
- applied to me before.’ He glanced at Teresa, who met his glance fairly.
- ‘To continue,’ he said: ‘I have abandoned my inquiries. To be precise, I
- gave up my mission this morning; therefore, since I am here again, I am
- not here as a spy.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What led you to abandon your mission, Mr. Inquiry Agent?’ asked Raphael,
- stroking his gray beard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I gave it up, Mr. Craig,’ said Richard plumply, ‘out of regard for your
- daughter.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Indeed!’ Raphael remarked, with the frostiest politeness. ‘So my daughter
- is fortunate enough to have won your regard?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If you care to put it so.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘all this does not account for your presence here
- to-night, Mr. Inquiry Agent.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am here now——’ Richard began, and then stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Redgrave is here now,’ Teresa said, at the same time seating herself,
- ‘because I asked him to come.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘When did you ask him, girl?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I went to London in the Décauville to Mr. Redgrave’s office, and——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You went to London alone?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man sprang up thunderously, and the newspaper fell out of his
- pocket. Richard quietly picked it up from the floor. It was that day’s <i>Westminster
- Gazette</i>.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Bridget went with me,’ said Teresa, quailing before her father’s
- outburst.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was evident from both their respective demeanours that Mr. Craig’s
- temper was not one of absolute serenity.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Bridget!’ sneered Raphael. ‘You went down to London to ask Mr. Redgrave
- to come up to Hockliffe?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I went to ask him to abandon his inquiries.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But still, you brought him back with you?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At one o’clock in the morning?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes. But, father——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Miss Craig was in a very awkward situation,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I agree with you,’ the old man interposed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And I was anxious to do anything in my power to help her.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And you helped her by visiting this house at one o’clock in the morning
- during my absence?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Father,’ said Teresa pleadingly, ‘can’t you and I discuss that aspect of
- the question afterwards? What is it that you want to ask Mr. Redgrave?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘My girl,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘we will, if you please, discuss it now. Mr.
- Redgrave is equally involved with yourself. Remember that it was you that
- insisted on joining this little conference. You insisted on coming into
- the room.’ Then he turned to Redgrave. ‘What was the exact nature of the
- difficult situation in which you say my daughter was placed?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will tell you, hither,’ said Teresa, standing up. ‘If you insist on Mr.
- Redgrave hearing it, he shall. I had reason to think that either you had
- killed Micky, or that Micky had killed you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And which proposition did you favour?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I favoured,’ said Teresa, with a coldness equalling her father’s, ‘I
- favoured the proposition that you had killed Micky. Bridget heard a
- revolver-shot in the night. I knew that you kept a revolver. Bridget had
- previously heard you and Micky at high words. This morning you had
- disappeared without warning me. Micky had also disappeared. Father, you
- were not treating me fairly.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You consider that before I leave my house I must give you “warning” like
- a servant, eh, Teresa? I wonder what Mr. Redgrave thinks of all this.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I do not see that it matters what Mr. Redgrave thinks,’ said Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It matters greatly,’ the old man contradicted; ‘and I will give you the
- reason.’ He walked across the room very deliberately to the tall clock.
- ‘Mr. Redgrave will be your husband, Teresa.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Father!’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard tried to think of something suitable to such an extraordinary
- occasion, but could not.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You have hopelessly compromised yourself with him, and he shall marry
- you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Never!’ said Teresa, with every nerve tingling with a girl’s pride. ‘I
- will die first!’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Very well,’ said Mr. Craig, with frightful calmness, ‘you will die,
- Teresa.’
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0006" id="linkimage-0006"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0180.jpg" alt="0180 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0180.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- His lips were white, and his eyes blazed as he opened the clock-case and
- took there from a revolver.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig,’ said Richard, ‘may I beg you to remain calm?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am entirely calm, sir. Teresa, you have never heard your mother’s
- story. It is the remembrance of that story which makes me firm now. Some
- day you shall hear it. You may think me mad, but I am not so. You may
- think me of uncertain temper, mysterious, secretive, a bully, perhaps a
- criminal. Well, you must think those things; but when you know all, if
- ever you do know all, you will forgive all.’ His voice softened a little,
- and then grew firm again. ‘In the meantime, you shall marry Mr. Redgrave.
- You have visited his room at an unconscionable hour; he has visited this
- house at an hour still more unconscionable, and there is only one
- alternative to marriage. I am quite serious when I say that I would sooner
- see you dead than that you should remain single after this episode. I have
- seen what I have seen. I know your blood. I know what darkened my life,
- and darkened your mother’s life, and finally killed her.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You threaten——’ Teresa began.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Stop, Teresa!’ Richard exclaimed masterfully, and turning to Raphael
- Craig: ‘Mr. Craig, nothing will suit me better. I have the honour to ask
- your daughter’s hand.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa started violently.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As Teresa’s father,’ said Craig solemnly, ‘I give her to you. May she
- prove a worthy wife!’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And you?’ Richard questioned, gazing at Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What a farce!’ Teresa sobbed; but at the same moment, try how she might
- to prevent it, a smile lighted her tears, and her hand found Richard’s
- hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Craig put the revolver back into the clock-case.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I expect you know that we didn’t yield to that tool of yours,’ said
- Richard half playfully. ‘I am truly fond of Teresa—that is the
- explanation. You wouldn’t have used that revolver, though you are
- certainly in some ways a strange man.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As you are good enough to say, Redgrave, I am a strange man. I should
- have used the revolver.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The way in which these words were uttered created a profound impression on
- Richard. Releasing Teresa’s hand, he began to consider what course he
- should now adopt in the joint interest of himself and of Teresa. He could
- not dismiss the suspicion that he had a madman to deal with.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If I may,’ said he to Mr. Craig, ‘I should like a few words with Teresa
- outside. After that there are several things to be settled between you,
- sir, and me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Craig nodded.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is late,’ he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Richard, ‘but such nights as this do not follow every day in
- the week.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Teresa!’ the young lover exclaimed when they were in the hall, ‘say you
- don’t regret. I have loved you since the moment I saw you first.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I don’t regret,’ she said simply. ‘Why should I?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Call me Dick,’ he demanded.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Dick.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And kiss me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- She kissed him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thanks,’ he said in his curious, undisturbed way; ‘that is indeed good.
- Now go to bed and rest. I will have a thorough explanation with your
- father at once. I am determined on that. We must know where we stand, you
- and I;’ and without waiting for her to make any reply, he flung back into
- the drawing-room and slammed the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael still sat on the Chesterfield, apparently lost in thought.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig,’ Richard began, ‘I am now, for practical purposes, a member of
- your family. Your interests are, presumably, your daughter’s interests,
- and your daughter’s interests are certainly my interests; therefore——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Therefore?’ repeated Mr. Craig imperturbably.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Therefore,’ said Richard, ‘don’t you think you had better let me into
- some of your secrets?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As, for example——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The secret, for example, of what has occurred between you and Micky,
- whose real name you have doubtless learnt since I left you on Saturday
- night last. I should tell you that I had ascertained the identity of that
- gentleman immediately upon the conclusion of my interview with you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And I,’ said Mr. Craig, ‘ascertained it about twenty-four hours later. It
- was then that the revolver-shot occurred. The revolver-shot hurt no one
- and nothing except the piano.’ Here Mr. Craig lifted up the embroidered
- damask cover of the piano, and showed splintered wood beneath. The
- perforation in the damask cover was scarcely noticeable. He continued: ‘I
- was angry at the man’s calm insolence when I taxed him with being a
- detective. I aimed to hit, but aimed badly. Having missed, I thought
- better of the idea of an immediate killing, and told him to go. He went. I
- saw nothing of him again till I saw him lying senseless in the pit
- to-night; but I guessed that he was still prowling about.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thanks,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thanks for what?’ asked the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘For your candour. I hope you will trust me and confide in me.’ Richard
- was now trying to be extremely diplomatic. ‘In spite of appearances, I
- still believe that you are an honourable man, engaged, however, in some
- scheme which may involve you in difficulties. Mr. Craig, let me beg you,
- most respectfully, to continue your frankness; you can lose nothing by it.
- I need not point out to you that you have been very fortunate to-night.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In what way?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In the fact that I happen to have fallen in love with Teresa, and was
- tempted beyond resistance by the opportunity offered by your amazing
- proposition. My love for Teresa has not, I hope, impaired my judgment, and
- my judgment infallibly tells me that you had a far more powerful reason
- than that of propriety for urging my engagement to your daughter. And, Mr.
- Craig, I venture to guess that your reason was that I knew too much of
- your affairs. You discerned the nature of my feelings towards your
- daughter, and you determined on a bold stroke. You are an incomparable
- actor.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Craig slowly smiled; it was a smile of almost tragic amusement.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Your insight does you credit, Redgrave,’ he said at length. ‘I admit that
- it was part of my wish to secure your silence, and perhaps your
- co-operation. Nevertheless, my chief reason for insisting on a betrothal
- was a regard for Teresa’s future. There are pages in the history of my
- life that——’ He stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We will not go into that,’ he said shortly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As you please,’ Richard assented. ‘Perhaps, to change the subject, you
- will tell ‘me your object in disappearing so completely to-day, to the
- grave alarm of my future wife?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The youth’s spectacles gleamed with good-humoured mischief.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I had to perform a certain excursion,’ said Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Now, why in the name of fortune, sir, don’t you say at once that you went
- to London?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How do you know that I went to London?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘By this paper.’ Richard pointed to the <i>Westminster Gazette</i>, which
- lay on the floor. ‘It is to-night’s special edition. The <i>Westminster
- Gazette</i> is not on sale in Hockliffe.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said the old man half dreamily, ‘I went to London.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In order to close finally the estate of your uncle, who left you all that
- silver?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The irony of Richard’s tone was not lost on the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What do you mean, boy?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said a few moments ago, sir, that you were an incomparable actor. I
- alluded to our previous interview in this room. Most cheerfully I admit
- that Teresa’s father imposed on me then to perfection. I believed you
- absolutely. Since then——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Since then I have found out that you never had any uncle, and that,
- consequently, your uncle, being non-existent, could not have left you a
- hundred thousand pounds in silver coin.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig took a long, deep breath.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I lied to you. But it was a good lie—a lie which I
- have used so often during the last year or two that I had almost come to
- believe it truth. You are a clever fellow, Redgrave. How did you discover
- this?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘To be precise,’ said Richard, ‘it was not I, but your precious Micky, who
- discovered it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then you are not so clever a fellow.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Clever enough, sir, to go straight to the point. And the point is, the
- point at which I have been gradually arriving since our talk began—how
- did you become possessed of that silver? I ask the question, and I demand
- an answer to it, as the affianced of your daughter.’
- </p>
- <p>
- At this moment the lamp, short of oil, began to give a feeble and still
- feebler light. A slight smell of oil filled the room. Both men
- instinctively glanced up at the lamp.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Redgrave, I may, at any rate, assure you that you are not about to marry
- a thief’s daughter.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, sir; probably not. But I may be about to marry the daughter of a man
- who in some other way has made an enemy of the law.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Listen,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘and believe that I am not acting now.
- Twenty years ago I formed a scheme, a life-plan. To the success of this
- scheme money was absolutely essential, money in large quantities. How was
- I to get it? I was in the service of a bank, and this fact was very
- helpful to the success of my scheme. I therefore did not wish to leave the
- bank. But a bank manager cannot make money. At least, he cannot make much
- money. I needed a lot. I thought and thought, and at length I arrived at
- the solution of the problem. I began to <i>make</i> money.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But how?’ asked Richard, not yet caring to seem to perceive the old man’s
- meaning.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I made it—made it steadily for nearly twenty years.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You coined it?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I coined it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then during the whole of this time you have been spreading bad money
- everywhere, and have never been found out?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I didn’t make bad money, Redgrave. I made perfectly good money. I cheated
- no one. I merely sinned against the law. The price of silver, as you know,
- has been steadily decreasing for many years. The silver in a half-crown,
- as silver, is now worth little more than a shilling. A half-crown piece is
- only worth half-a-crown because we choose to call it so. Consult any book
- on coinage, and you will find that what I say is strictly true. What more
- easy, then, given the mechanical skill, which I possessed, than to make
- and utter genuine money at a substantial profit? I made a profit of fifty
- per cent, on my coinage, and no one on earth can distinguish my money from
- that of the Mint. It will stand any test.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard did not conceal that he was impressed by the fine simplicity and
- effectiveness of Raphael’s scheme.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But,’ the old man continued, ‘I made money faster than I could get rid of
- it. It gradually accumulated. Then it was that I invented my Mexican
- uncle, so that I might deal with the coin more openly.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes?’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That is all,’ said Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But the object of the scheme?’ asked Richard. ‘You said you needed all
- this money for a certain scheme.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said the old man solemnly, ‘and the scheme is approaching fruition.
- Yet a little time, and my task will be done.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is well,’ Richard put in, ‘that your scheme is nearly completed, for
- the methods you have employed might even now be found out, and then
- good-bye to the scheme, whatever it is.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, my friend,’ he remarked composedly, ‘nothing can upset it now. The
- last of my silver is disposed of—safely negotiated. Go into my sheds
- now, and you will discover—nothing. My machinery is destroyed; all
- evidence is annihilated. For twenty years I have been crossing an abyss by
- means of a tight-rope; at any moment I might have been precipitated into
- the gulf. But at last I am on firm ground once more. It is the Other, now,
- who will shortly be plunged into the abyss.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The Other!’ Richard repeated, struck by the strange and mordant accent
- with which Raphael Craig had pronounced that word.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The Other,’ said the old man. ‘His hour comes.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And who is he?’ demanded Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That,’ Raphael Craig said, ‘you will never know until my deed is
- accomplished. The train is laid, the fuse is ignited. I have only to
- wait.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then you will tell me nothing more?’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Have I not interested you so far?’ said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Undoubtedly, but my curiosity is still not quite sated.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It occurs to me that your curiosity exceeds mine. By what right, young
- man, do you put all these questions? I have never sought to cross-examine
- you, as I might have done.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Under the circumstances,’ said Richard, ‘I think you have a perfect right
- to know, and certainly I have no objection to telling you. I came on
- behalf of the directors of the bank.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Which means Mr. Simon Lock,’ said Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Which means Mr. Simon Lock,’ Richard cheerfully admitted.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Ah!’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then you decline to admit me further into your confidence?’ Richard
- doggedly persisted.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Redgrave,’ said the old man, standing up, my scheme is my own. It is the
- most precious thing I have—the one thing that has kept me alive,
- given me vitality, vivacity, strength, hope. During all these years I have
- shared it with none. Shall I share it now? Shall I share it with a man
- young enough to be my son, a man who forced himself into my house, wormed
- himself into the secrets of my private life? I shall not. It is too sacred
- a thing. You do not know what my scheme means to me; you cannot guess all
- that is involved in it. I can conceive that you might even laugh at my
- scheme—you who do not yet know what life is and what life means.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig resumed with dignity his seat on the sofa. Richard was
- impressed by this exhibition of profound feeling on the part of the old
- man. He was inclined to admit, privately, that perhaps the old man was
- right—perhaps he did not know what life was and what life meant;
- perhaps there were things in life deeper, more terrible, than he had ever
- suspected.
- </p>
- <p>
- A silence fell upon the room. The old man seemed not inclined to break it;
- Richard, still under the hypnotism of the scene, would not speak. To
- relieve the intensity of the moment he quietly opened the <i>Westminster
- Gazette</i>. The lamp had sunk lower and lower, and it was with difficulty
- that he could read. His eye, however, chanced to fall on the financial
- page, and there, as the heading of a paragraph in the ‘Notes,’ he saw
- these words: ‘LOCK RUMOURS.’ He brought the page nearer to his face, and
- read: ‘The rumours that the Lock group are in serious difficulties was
- again rife on ’Change to-day. Mr. Simon Lock, seen by one of our
- representatives, merely smiled when told of the prevalence of these
- sinister rumours. He gave our representative the somewhat cryptic answer
- that we should see what we should see. We do not doubt the truth of this
- remark. Dealing in the shares of the newly-floated “La Princesse” Gold
- Mining Company (Westralian) was very active this morning, but fell flat
- after lunch. The one-pound shares, which, after a sensational rise last
- week, fell on Thursday to a shade over par, are now at five and a half,
- with a distinct tendency to harden, in spite of the fact that the demand
- is slight.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard looked up from the paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I see,’ he said, with interest, ‘that it is not absolutely all plain
- sailing even with the great Simon Lock. Did you read this paragraph here
- about him?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ murmured the old man. ‘Read it to me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard did so in the rapidly-dying light.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Very curious and interesting,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘I have sometimes
- permitted myself to wonder whether our respected chairman is, after all,
- the impregnable rock which he is usually taken for.’
- </p>
- <p>
- At this moment the lamp went out, and the two men sat in absolute
- darkness.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next ensuing phenomenon was the sound of an apparently heavy body
- falling down the stairs into the hall, and then a girl’s terrified scream.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard sprang to the door, but a few moments elapsed before his fingers
- could find the handle. At length he opened the door. The lamp in the hall
- was still brightly burning. At the foot of the stairs lay Nolan, the
- detective, wrapped in a bedgown. At the head of the stairs, in an attitude
- of dismay, stood Juana.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a heavy and terrible sigh at Richard’s elbow. He turned his head
- sharply. Raphael Craig stood behind him, his body swaying as though in a
- breeze.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Juana!’ he stammered out hoarsely, his eyes fixed on the trembling girl.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Do not curse me again, father,’ she cried, with a superb gesture; ‘I have
- suffered enough.’
- </p>
- <p>
- An oak chest stood to the left of the drawing-room door. Raphael Craig
- sank down upon it, as if exhausted by a sudden and frightful emotion.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Go!’ he said in a low voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- But the girl came steadily downstairs towards him.
- </p>
- <p>
- No one seemed to take any notice of the body of the detective.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XI—END OF THE NIGHT
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he body of the
- detective lay, by chance, lengthwise along the mat at the foot of the
- stairs. In order to reach the hall, therefore, Juana had no alternative
- but to step over the prone figure. This she did unhesitatingly, and then
- turned to Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Carry the poor fellow upstairs, will you?’ she asked quietly. ‘He is
- delirious. The room overhead.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard obeyed. The small, light frame of the detective gave him no
- trouble. At the top of the stairs he met Mrs. Bridget hastening towards
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Holy Virgin!’ she exclaimed. ‘I did but run down by the backstairs to the
- kitchen and left the spalpeen with Miss Juana, and when I came back to
- them the room was as empty as my pocket.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He got a bit wild,’ Richard explained. ‘I suppose his head is affected.
- Miss Juana is talking with her father. Where is Miss Teresa?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure, she’s gone out to the mares. They must have their water, if every
- soul of us was dying.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard carefully laid Nolan on the bed in the room over the porch. By
- this time the sufferer had recovered consciousness. He murmured a few
- meaningless strings of words, then sighed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will leave him with you,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not alone! If he begins to kick out——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He’s quite quiet now,’ said Richard, closing the door behind him.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard was extremely anxious to be present, as he had a sort of right to
- be, at the conversation between Raphael Craig and Juana. He descended the
- stairs with such an air of deliberation as he could assume, and stood
- hesitatingly at the foot. He felt like an interloper, an eavesdropper, one
- who is not wanted, but, indeed, there was no other place for him to put
- himself into, unless it might be the kitchen; for the drawing-room lamp
- was extinguished, and the lamp in the dining-room had not been lighted.
- </p>
- <p>
- Juana had approached her father, who still sat on the oak chest. She bent
- slightly towards him, like a figure of retribution, or menace, or sinister
- prophecy. Richard noticed the little wisps of curls in the nape of her
- neck. She was still dressed in her riding-habit, but the lengthy skirt had
- been fastened up by means of a safety-pin. Richard could not be sure
- whether father or daughter had so much as observed his presence in the
- hall.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I’ll stay where I am,’ he thought. ‘I’m a member of the family now, and
- it is my business to know all the family secrets.’
- </p>
- <p>
- For at least thirty seconds Juana uttered no word. Then she said, in a low
- vibrating voice:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why do you tell me to go, father?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Did I not say to you last year,’ the old man replied, ‘that if you left
- me you must leave me for ever?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You abide by that?’ the girl demanded.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I abide by it,’ said Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- Like a flash, Juana swept round and faced Richard, and he at once
- perceived that she had been aware of his presence.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Redgrave,’ she said, with head in air, and nostrils dilated, ‘Teresa
- has just told me that at my father’s—er—suggestion you and she
- have become engaged to be married.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That is so,’ said Richard politely. ‘May we hope for your
- congratulations?’
- </p>
- <p>
- She ignored the remark.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Do you know whom you are marrying?’ she asked curtly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am under the impression that I am about to marry the daughter of Mr.
- Raphael Craig, manager of the Kilburn branch of the British and Scottish
- Bank.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are about to do nothing of the sort,’ said Juana. ‘Mr. Raphael Craig
- has no daughter. Teresa and myself, I may explain to you, are
- twin-sisters, though I have the misfortune to look much the older. We have
- always passed as the daughters of Mr. Craig, We have always called him
- father. Teresa still thinks him her father. It was only recently that I
- discovered——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Juana,’ the old man interrupted, ‘have you, too, got hold of the wild
- tale? It is astonishing how long a falsehood, an idle rumour, will survive
- and flourish.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘There is no falsehood, no idle rumour,’ said Juana coldly; ‘and I think
- it proper that Mr. Redgrave should know all that I know.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It will make no difference whatever to me,’ said Richard, ‘whose daughter
- Teresa may be. ‘It is herself, and not her ancestors, that I shall have
- the honour of marrying.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Still,’ said Juana, ‘do you not think that you ought to know Teresa’s
- history?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Decidedly,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- With an embittered glance at her father, Juana resumed:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Some time ago, Mr. Redgrave, a difficulty between Mr. Craig and myself
- led to my leaving this house. I was the merest girl, but I left. I was too
- proud to stay. I had a mare of my own, whom I had trained to do a number
- of tricks. I could ride as well as most. Bosco’s circus happened to be in
- the neighbourhood. I conceived the wild idea of applying for a situation
- in the circus. Only a girl utterly inexperienced in life would have dreamt
- of such a thing. The circus people had me performing for them, and they
- engaged me. On the whole I lived a not unhappy existence. I tell you this
- only to account for my presence not long since in Limerick.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Limerick!’ exclaimed Raphael Craig in alarm. ‘You have been there?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Juana continued calmly:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The circus travelled in Ireland, and eventually came to Limerick. I knew
- that Limerick was my mother’s home, and I began to make inquiries. I found
- out that my sister and I were born previous to Mr. Craig’s marriage with
- my mother. She had been married before, or she had, at least, been through
- the ceremony of marriage with another man—a man unknown, who came
- suddenly into her life and as suddenly went out of it. You will gather,
- then, that Mr. Craig is not our father, and that he has no authority over
- us.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Redgrave,’ muttered Raphael Craig, ‘I tell you the poor girl is mad.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Juana resumed quietly:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I must inform you of another thing. While in Limerick and the district I
- met this Nolan, the detective. He had another name there. I know now, from
- what my sister has told me, that he must have been investigating the early
- history of my mother, and my real and false fathers, for some purpose of
- the police. But I judge him as I found him. He was very kind to me once,
- and I liked him. He was the personification of good-nature and good
- temper. When our ways parted he expressed the certain hope that we should
- meet again. We have met again, under circumstances extremely painful. He
- has not yet recognised me. You may ask, father,’ she went on, turning to
- Raphael Craig, ‘why I came back to your house to-day. There were two
- reasons. It is three months since I learnt about my parentage, and during
- the whole of that time I have been debating with myself whether or not to
- come and have it out with you. I inclined more and more to having a clear
- understanding, not only for my own sake, but for Teresa’s. Then, the
- second reason, the circus folk had begun to talk. There were jealousies,
- of course; and the rumour that my birth was surrounded by doubtful
- mysteries somehow got afoot in the tents. I decided to leave. Here I am. I
- came prepared for peace; but you, father, have decided otherwise. I shall
- leave to-morrow morning, We have no claim on each other. Mr. Redgrave,
- that is all I have to say.’
- </p>
- <p>
- She ceased.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard bowed, and looked expectantly towards the old man, but the old man
- said nothing.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have the right to ask you, sir,’ said Richard, ‘for your version of
- what Miss Juana has just told us.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We will talk of that to-morrow,’ answered the old man testily. ‘We will
- talk of that to-morrow.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is already to-morrow,’ said Juana scornfully.
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a sudden tremendous racket overhead. A scream could be heard
- from Bridget, and a loud, confused chattering from Nolan. The latter
- rushed violently half-way downstairs, his eyes burning, Mrs. Bridget after
- him.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0007" id="linkimage-0007"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0206.jpg" alt="0206 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0206.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- ‘I tell you I won’t stay there!’ he shouted. ‘It’s unlucky—that room
- where Featherstone slept the night before he killed himself! It’s
- unlucky!’
- </p>
- <p>
- The restless patient sank on the stairs, exhausted by the exertion. Before
- Richard could do anything, Mrs. Bridget, that gaunt and powerful creature,
- had picked up the little man, and by great effort carried him away again.
- The people downstairs saw no more of him. Mrs. Bridget had at last made up
- her mind to take him firmly in hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard was startled by a light touch on his shoulder, and he was still
- more startled when he caught the horror-struck face of Juana—the
- staring eyes, the drawn mouth.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Tell me,’ she said, her finger still on his shoulder—‘tell me—I
- cannot trust him—has Mr. Featherstone committed suicide? Is he
- dead?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Richard, extremely mystified, but judging that simple candour
- would be the best course to adopt under the circumstances.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘There was an inquest. Didn’t you see it in the papers?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Circus folk seldom trouble with newspapers,’ she said. ‘When was it?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘About a month ago.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Poor fellow!’
- </p>
- <p>
- Tears ran down her cheeks, and she spoke with an accent indescribably
- mournful.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You knew him?’ Richard suggested.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I should have been his wife a year ago,’ said Juana, ‘had <i>he</i> not
- forbidden it.’ Again she pointed to Raphael Craig. ‘I never loved Mr.
- Featherstone, but I liked him. He was an honourable man—old enough
- to be my father, but an honourable man. He worshipped me. Why should I not
- have married him? It was the best chance I was ever likely to get, living
- the life we lived—solitary, utterly withdrawn from the world. Yes, I
- would have married him, and I would have made him a good wife. But <i>he</i>
- forbade. He gave no reason. I was so angry that I would have taken Mr.
- Featherstone despite him. But Mr. Featherstone had old-fashioned ideas. He
- thought it wrong to marry a girl without her father’s consent. And so we
- parted. That, Mr. Redgrave, was the reason why I left the house of my
- so-called father. Scarcely a month ago Mr. Featherstone came to me again
- secretly, one night after the performance was over, and he again asked me
- to marry him, and said that he had decided to dispense with Mr. Craig’s
- consent. He begged me to marry him. His love was as great as ever, but
- with me things had changed. I had almost ceased even to like Mr.
- Featherstone. I was free, independent, and almost happy in that wandering
- life. Besides, I—never mind that. I refused him as kindly as I
- could. It must have been immediately afterwards that the poor fellow
- committed suicide, And you’—she flashed a swift denunciatory glance
- on Raphael Craig—‘are his murderer.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The old man collected himself and stood up, his face calm, stately, livid.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Daughter,’ he said, ‘daughter—for I shall I still call you so, by
- the right of all that I have done for you—you have said a good deal
- in your anger that had been better left unsaid. But doubtless you have
- found a sufficient justification for your wrath. You are severe in your
- judgments. In youth we judge; in age we are merciful. You think you have
- been hardly done to. Perhaps it is so; but not by me—rather by fate.
- Even now I could tell you such things as would bring you to your knees at
- my feet, but I refrain. Like you, I am proud. Some day you will know all
- the truth—the secret of my actions and the final goal of my desires.
- And I think that on that day you will bless me. No man ever had a more
- sacred, a holier aim, than that which has been the aim of my life. I thank
- God it is now all but achieved.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He lighted one of the candles which always stood on the bookcase in the
- hall, and passed into the drawing-room, where he sat down, leaving the
- door ajar.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard crept towards the door and looked in. The old man sat motionless,
- absently holding the candle in his hand. The frontdoor opened from the
- outside, and Teresa ran into the house. She saw her father, and hastened,
- with a charming gesture, towards him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Old darling!’ she exclaimed; ‘why that sad face, and why that candle?
- What are you all doing? See!’ She pulled back the shutters of the window.
- ‘See! the sun has risen!’
- </p>
- <p>
- So ended that long night.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XII—THE NAPOLEON
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>e have now to
- watch another aspect of the great struggle which for so many years had
- been maturing in secrecy and darkness, and the true nature of which was
- hidden from all save one man.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was seven o’clock in the morning, and in a vast bedroom of a house in
- Manchester Square a man lay with closed eyes. The house was one of those
- excessively plain dwellings of the very rich which are characteristic of
- the streets and squares of the West End of London. Its façade was relieved
- by no ornament. You saw merely a flat face of brick, with four rows of
- windows, getting smaller towards the roof, and a sombre green front-door
- in the middle of the lowest row. The house did not even seem large, but it
- was, in fact, extremely spacious, as anyone could see who put foot into
- the hall, where two footmen lounged from morn till night. The bedroom to
- which we have referred was on the first-floor. It occupied half the width
- of the house, and looked out on the square. Its three windows were made
- double, so that no sound from outside could penetrate that sacred
- apartment. Ventilation was contrived by means of two electric fans. The
- furniture consisted of the articles usual in an English bedroom, for the
- man in bed prided himself on being an Englishman who did not ape foreign
- ways. The said articles were, however, extraordinarily large, massive, and
- ornate. The pile of the immense carpet probably could not have been
- surpassed by any carpet in London. Across the foot of the carved oak
- bedstead was a broad sofa upholstered in softest silk.
- </p>
- <p>
- An English bracket-clock on the mantelshelf intoned the hour of seven with
- English solemnity, and instantly afterwards an electric bell rang about
- six inches over the head of the occupant of the bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- He opened his eyes wearily. He had not been asleep; indeed, he had spent
- most of the night in a futile wakefulness, which was a bad sign with a man
- who boasted that as a rule he could sleep at will, like Napoleon. Here was
- one detail out of many in which this man considered that he resembled
- Napoleon.
- </p>
- <p>
- He groaned, pulled his gray moustache, stroked his chin, which bristled
- with the night’s growth of beard, and ran his fingers through his gray
- hair. Then he touched an electric button. Within ten seconds a valet
- entered, bearing the morning papers—not merely a judicious selection
- of morning papers, but every morning paper published in London.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Put them on the sofa, Jack.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The man rose out of bed with a sudden jerk. At the same moment the valet,
- with a movement which would have done credit to a juggler, placed a pair
- of bath slippers on his master’s feet, and with another movement of equal
- swiftness deposited a pair of six-pound dumbbells in his hands. The man
- performed six distinct exercises twelve times each, and then dropped the
- lumps of iron on the bed, whence the valet removed them.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Seven-thirty,’ said the man.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, sir,’ said the valet, and disappeared.
- </p>
- <p>
- The man sank languidly on to the sofa, and began, with the efficiency of a
- highly-practised reader, to skim the papers one after the other. He led
- off with the <i>Financial</i>, proceeded to the <i>Times</i>, and took the
- rest anyhow. When he had finished, the papers lay in a tangled heap on the
- thick carpet. This man was pre-eminently tidy and orderly, yet few things
- delighted him more than, at intervals, to achieve a gigantic disorder. It
- was a little affectation which he permitted himself. Another little
- affectation was his manner of appearing always to be busy from the hour of
- opening his eyes to the hour of closing them. He was, in truth, a very
- busy man indeed; but it pleased him to seem more deeply employed than he
- actually was. He had a telephone affixed to his bed-head, by means of
- which he could communicate with his private secretary’s bedroom in the
- house, and also with his office in Cannon Street. This telephone tickled
- his fancy. He used it for the sake of using it; he enjoyed using it in the
- middle of the night. He went to it now, and rang imperiously. He did
- everything imperiously. There was a tinkling reply on the bell.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Are you up, Oakley? Well, get up then. Go to Cannon Street, and bring the
- important letters. And tell——’ He went off into a series of
- detailed instructions. ‘And be back here at half-past eight.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The clock struck half-past seven. The valet entered as silently as a nun,
- and the modern Napoleon passed into his marble bath-room. By this time
- everyone in the household—that household which revolved round the
- autocrat as the solar system revolves round the sun—knew that the
- master had awakened in a somewhat dangerous mood, and that squally weather
- might be expected. And they all, from the page-boy to the great Mr.
- Oakley, the private secretary, accepted this fact as further evidence that
- the master’s career of prosperity had received a check.
- </p>
- <p>
- At eight o’clock precisely the master took breakfast—an English
- breakfast: bacon, eggs, toast, coffee, marmalade—in the
- breakfast-room, a room of medium size opening off the library. He took it
- in solitude, for he could not tolerate the presence of servants so early
- in the morning, and he had neither wife nor family. He poured out his own
- coffee like one of his own clerks, and read his private letters propped up
- one by one against the coffee-pot, also like one of his own clerks. He
- looked at his watch as he drank the last drop of coffee. It was thirty-one
- minutes past eight. He walked quickly into the library. If Oakley had not
- been there Oakley would have caught it; but Oakley happened to be there,
- calmly opening envelopes with a small ivory paper-cutter. It was mainly in
- virtue of his faculty of always ‘being there’ that Oakley received a
- salary of six hundred a year.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Shall you go to Cannon Street this morning, sir?’ asked Oakley, a
- middle-aged man with the featureless face of a waiter in a large
- restaurant.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sir Arthur Custer has telegraphed to know.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I thought not, and have told him.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Umph!’ said the master, nettled, but not daring to say anything.
- </p>
- <p>
- Like many a man equally powerful, this Napoleon was in some ways in awe of
- his unexceptionable clerk. Oakley might easily get another master, but it
- was doubtful whether his employer could get another clerk equal to Oakley.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘A light post this morning, sir,’ said Oakley.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Umph!’ said the master again. ‘Take down this letter, and have it sent
- off instantly:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘“Richard Redgrave, Esq., 4, Adelphi Terrace. Dear Sir,—I shall be
- obliged if you can make it convenient to call on me this morning as early
- as possible at the above address. The bearer can bring you here in his
- cab.—Yours truly.”’
- </p>
- <p>
- The letter was written, signed, and despatched.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Anything from Gaunt and Griffiths?’ asked the Napoleon.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Oakley turned to a letter on large, thick, quarto paper. The stationery of
- this famous firm of stock-brokers—perhaps the largest firm, and
- certainly the firm with the cleanest record, on the Exchange—was
- always of an impressive type.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They say, “We are obliged by your favour of to-day’s date. We can offer a
- limited number of La Princesse shares at twenty-five. We shall be glad to
- have your acceptance or refusal before noon to-morrow.—Your obedient
- servants, Gaunt and Griffiths.”’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Twenty-five!’ exclaimed the other. ‘They mean five. It’s a clerical
- error.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The amount is written out in words.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It’s a clerical error.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Doubtless, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Even now the Napoleon would not believe that misfortune, perhaps ruin, was
- at his door. He doggedly refused to face the fact. It seemed incredible,
- unthinkable, that anything could happen to him. So we all think until the
- crash comes. He plunged into the mass of general correspondence with a
- fine appearance of perfect calmness. But he could not deceive Mr. Oakley.
- </p>
- <p>
- At five minutes past nine there was a careful tap at the door. The
- messenger had returned from Adelphi Terrace. Mr. Redgrave was not at his
- rooms. He had gone out on the previous evening, and had not come in again.
- The landlady knew not where he was.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Send again at noon, Oakley,’ said the Napoleon.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another minute there was another tap at the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come in!’—angrily.
- </p>
- <p>
- The footman announced that Sir Arthur Custer had called.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘D——n Sir Arthur Custer!’ said the master of the house. ‘Here,
- Oakley, get out of this! I must see him.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Oakley got out, and Sir Arthur was ushered in. Sir Arthur looked at his
- host queerly, and then with much care shut the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I say, Lock,’ he said, putting his silk hat on the table, ‘it seems to me
- we’re in a devil of a hole.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Indeed!’ said Simon Lock cautiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ Sir Arthur insisted. ‘Of course I’m sure that when you asked me to
- join you in this Princesse affair——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You will pardon me, Sir Arthur,’ said Lock, stopping him very politely
- and formally, ‘I did not ask you to join me. It was yourself who suggested
- that.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Ah, well!’ said Sir Arthur, with a little less assurance, ‘we won’t
- quarrel about that. At any rate, I understood from you that we were in for
- a deuced good thing.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That is so,’ Lock returned. ‘By the way, sit down, Sir Arthur, and remain
- calm.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Am I not calm?’ asked the member of Parliament, whose pomposity was
- unaccustomed to be trifled with.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Certainly you are calm. I merely ask you to remain so. Now to come to the
- business in hand. I said, you remind me, that we were in for a good thing.
- So we were. But some secret force has been working against us. If I could
- unmask that secret force all would be well, for I could then bring
- pressure to bear that would effectually—— You understand?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No matter from what direction the force came?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No matter from what direction. And, Sir Arthur,’ said Simon Lock
- impressively, ‘I shall find it out.’ He repeated the phrase still more
- impressively, ‘I shall find it out. Simon Lock has never yet been
- defeated, and he will not be defeated now. I began life, Sir Arthur, on
- half-a-crown a week. There were conspiracies against me then, but I upset
- them. At the age of fifty-five, on a slightly larger scale ‘—he
- smiled—‘I shall repeat the operations of my early youth.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock, like many self-made men, was extremely fond of referring to
- his early youth and the humbleness of his beginnings. He thought that it
- proved an absence of snobbery in his individuality.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And in the meantime?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In the meantime, I frankly confess, Sir Arthur, we have sold more La
- Princesse shares than we can deliver. Nay, further, we have sold, I fear,
- more La Princesse shares than actually exist. We sold freely for the fall.
- I knew that the shares would fall soon after the flotation, and they did.
- But they have mysteriously risen again.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And are still rising,’ Sir Arthur put in, nervously stroking his long
- thin beard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes. We sold, I find, over two hundred thousand shares at three. They
- then fell, as you know, to about twenty-five shillings. Then they began to
- go up like a balloon. The market tightened like a drawn string. Sir
- Arthur, we were led into a trap. For once in a way some fellow has got the
- better of Simon Lock—temporarily, only temporarily. My brokers
- thought they were selling shares to the public in general, but they were
- selling to the agents of a single buyer. That is evident.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How do we stand now?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We have to deliver our shares in a week’s time. We have some eighty
- thousand shares in hand, bought at various prices up to five pounds. On
- those eighty thousand we shall just about clear ourselves. That leaves us
- over a hundred and twenty thousand yet to buy.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At the best price we can obtain?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And what is the best price to-day?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well,’ said Lock, looking Sir Arthur straight in the face, ‘I have had
- shares offered to me this morning at twenty-five.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Arthur’s reply was to rush to the sideboard and help himself to a
- glass of brandy. He was a timid creature, despite his appearance.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And that figure means that we should lose the sum of twenty-two pounds on
- each share. Twenty-two times one hundred and twenty thousand, Sir Arthur,
- is two millions six hundred and forty thousand pounds. That would be the
- amount of our loss on the transaction.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But this is child’s play, Lock.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Excuse me, it isn’t,’ said Simon Lock. ‘It is men’s play, and desperately
- serious.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I don’t understand the methods of the Stock Exchange—never did,’
- said Sir Arthur Custer, M.P. ‘I only came into the City because a lot of
- fellows like yourself asked me to. But it seems to me the only thing to do
- is to cry off.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Cry off?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes. Tell all these people to whom we have contracted to sell Princesse
- shares that we simply can’t supply ’em, and tell ’em to do
- their worst. Their worst won’t be worse than a dead loss of over two and a
- half millions.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘My dear Sir Arthur,’ said Simon Lock, ‘there is no crying off in the
- City. We have contracted to deliver those shares, and we must deliver
- them, or pay the price—commercial ruin.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The Stock Exchange,’ Sir Arthur blustered, ‘is one of the most infamous
- institutions——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ Simon Lock cut him short, ‘we know all about that. The Stock
- Exchange is quite right as long as we are making money; but when we begin
- to lose it immediately becomes infamous.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Sir Arthur made an obvious effort to pull himself together.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What is your plan of campaign, Lock?’ he asked. ‘You must have some
- scheme in your head. What is it? Don’t trifle with me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well,’ said Simon Lock, ‘we have a week.
- </p>
- <p>
- That is our principal asset. Seven precious days in which to turn round. A
- hundred and sixty hours. In that time——’
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a knock at the door, and a page entered with a telegram.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock opened it hurriedly. The message ran:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sorry must withdraw offer contained in our letter yesterday. Princesse
- shares now thirty-five.—Gaunt and Griffiths.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The erstwhile Napoleon passed the orange-coloured paper to Sir Arthur
- Custer.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No answer,’ he said calmly to the page.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIII—THE VASE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">T</span>he sensation of
- the next day’s Stock Exchange was the unsuccessfulness of the attempts of
- Simon Lock’s brokers—he employed several different firms—to
- buy La Princesse shares. It was not definitely stated who wanted these
- shares, but everyone seemed to be aware that Simon Lock was the man in the
- hole. The Exchange laughed quietly to itself; it did not dare to laugh
- aloud, for Simon Lock was still a person to be feared. Not a single share
- was to be obtained at any price; they had all been withdrawn from the
- market. In vain Simon Lock tried to discover the holders. The identity of
- the holders seemed to be wrapped in impenetrable mystery. He went to one
- man, a member of the Westralian market, who varied the excitements of the
- Exchange by the excitements of prodigious play at Monte Carlo, and took
- him out to lunch. The great Simon Lock actually took this man, a nonentity
- in the distinguished financial circles in which Simon moved, out to lunch
- at a famous and expensive restaurant, where those City men who want real
- turtle soup can always get it.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘My people sold you ten thousand Princesse shares the other day,’ said
- Simon Lock ingratiatingly to this man.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘True,’ said the man cautiously, ‘at three.’ ‘Just so,’ said Lock; ‘and we
- have to deliver in a week.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In a week,’ repeated the man absently.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, look here,’ said Simon Lock, making a sudden plunge, ‘we don’t want
- to deliver; it doesn’t suit us. See?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You don’t want to deliver? Why not?’ ‘Never mind why. The question is,
- what will you take to release us from the contract?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nothing.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You’ll release us for nothing?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I mean I can’t release you, Mr. Lock,’ said the man with formal
- politeness. ‘My clients have given me positive instructions.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Who are your clients?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That I am not at liberty to say.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Tell me who your clients are,’ said Simon Lock, ‘and I’ll give you five
- thousand down.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The man shook his head sadly. He would have liked that five thousand, but
- he dared not accept it.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Are you acting for Gaunt and Griffiths?’ asked Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ said the man, glad to be able to give a positive answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Waiter, the bill,’ Simon Lock cried, and then gave a sigh.
- </p>
- <p>
- The bill came to thirty shillings—thirty shillings wasted! He
- reflected that in a few weeks’ time, unless something happened, he might
- be in serious need of that thirty shillings. Nevertheless, such is human
- nature, the idea of Simon Lock being hard up for thirty shillings was so
- amusing to him that he could not dismiss a smile. The other man wondered
- what evil that smile portended.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock proceeded from the restaurant to the offices of Gaunt and
- Griffiths. He demanded to see Mr. Gaunt, the venerable head of the firm,
- and Mr. Gaunt kept him, Simon Lock, waiting ten minutes! Simon Lock had
- not suffered such an insult for years. At his name the most obdurate doors
- were accustomed to open instantly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, Mr. Gaunt,’ he said, with an affectation of breezy familiarity,
- when at length he was admitted, ‘I’ve just called about the matter of
- those Princesse shares. How many can you offer?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We can offer ten thousand, Mr. Lock.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At thirty-five?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At thirty-five.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That means three hundred and fifty thousand pounds for your holding?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Exactly.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Don’t you wish you may get it, Mr. Gaunt? Eh! eh!’
- </p>
- <p>
- He laughed gaily, but suddenly it occurred to him that his laugh sounded
- hollow and foolish, and he stopped.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What do you mean?’ asked Mr. Gaunt gravely.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I mean,’ said Simon Lock lamely, ‘that the price is, of course, a fancy
- one. You know the market is a bit tight, and you’re playing a game. You’ll
- take less than thirty-five if you really want to sell.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Our firm is not in the habit of playing games, Mr. Lock. And, by the way,
- your last words bring us to the point. You say “if we really want to
- sell.” The fact is, we don’t want to sell. You will remember that it was
- you who came first to us to ask if we had any shares to offer. We made
- inquiries, and found some. Our clients——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Would you mind telling me,’ Simon Lock interrupted, ‘who your clients
- are?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It would be useless for you to approach them personally,’ said Mr. Gaunt.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I don’t want to approach them personally. I shall not dream of such a
- breach of etiquette,’ said Simon Lock, with an assumed fervour of
- righteousness. ‘I merely wanted to know, out of curiosity.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I regret that I cannot satisfy your curiosity, Mr. Lock.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then that is your last word, Mr. Gaunt—ten thousand at
- thirty-five?’
- </p>
- <p>
- A boy entered with a telegram, which Mr. Gaunt perused slowly through his
- gold-rimmed spectacles.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ said Mr. Gaunt; ‘I regret to say—-at forty. I have just
- received further instructions by telegraph.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He waved the telegram in the air.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock’s face grew ugly, and he spoke with ominous coldness.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Someone seems disposed to make fun of me, Mr. Gaunt,’ he said. ‘I don’t
- know who it is, but I shall find out; and when I do find out, there will
- be trouble for that someone. I’ll let this cursed city know that Simon
- Lock is not to be trifled with.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Good-day,’ said Mr. Gaunt calmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0008" id="linkimage-0008"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0232.jpg" alt="0232 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0232.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- Simon Lock went out furious. On the pavement outside he met the office-boy
- who had brought in the telegram to Mr. Gaunt.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Where are you going to, my boy?’ asked Simon Lock kindly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘To the post-office, sir,’ said the boy.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So am I. Now would you like to earn a couple of sovereigns easily?’ Simon
- Lock inquired.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, sir,’ said the boy, and added, ‘if it’s all square. Sovereigns ain’t
- flying about, you know.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It’s all square. You won’t do any harm to anyone by earning it. All I
- want you to do is to go into the post-office and say that on the last
- telegram sent to your firm the name of the office of despatch isn’t
- stamped clearly. Ask them to refer and tell you what it is. They know you,
- I suppose?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oh yes, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, run along.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The boy, dazzled by the glitter of sovereigns, went. Simon Lock waited for
- him outside the post-office.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What’s the answer?’ he asked when the boy came out.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They said I ought to have brought the form with me,’ said the boy, ‘but I
- talked to ’em like a father. I reckon I know how to manage them
- girls.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And what’s the name of the place?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Hockliffe.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Here’s your two sovereigns,’ said Simon Lock gladly.
- </p>
- <p>
- The lad capered down the street in the exuberance of joy.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon had learnt something. And yet, when he thought over what he had
- learnt, he seemed to think somehow that it was valueless to him. He had
- guessed all along who was at the bottom of the La Princesse business. His
- guess had been confirmed—that was all. He had threatened that, when
- he knew, he would do such and such dreadful things; but what could he, in
- fact, do? Should he send for Raphael Craig and threaten him? With what? It
- would be absurd to threaten with dismissal from a post worth at most a
- thousand a year a man who stood to gain hundreds of thousands from you.
- No; that manoeuvre would not serve. At last he decided that he would pay a
- surprise visit of inspection to the Kilburn office of the British and
- Scottish Bank, and then act as circumstances dictated.
- </p>
- <p>
- He jumped into a hansom.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Kilburn,’ he said shortly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What ho!’ exclaimed the driver, not caring for such a long journey;
- ‘Kilburn, eh? What’s the matter with the Tuppenny Toob?’
- </p>
- <p>
- However, Simon Lock insisted on being driven to Kilburn, and was duly
- driven thither, though at a pace which suited the horse better than it
- suited Simon Lock. The latter revenged himself—but not on the horse—by
- paying the precise legal fare.
- </p>
- <p>
- He walked into the bank. No one knew him. His august presence caused no
- flutter of excitement. The cashier inquired briefly what he wanted.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The manager,’ said Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If you please.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig is taking his annual holiday.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thanks,’ said Simon Lock, grinding his teeth, and walked out. He had
- experienced exactly the same rebuff as Richard Redgrave a few days
- previously.
- </p>
- <p>
- That evening, though he had several engagements, including one to dine at
- the house of a Marquis in Park Lane, Simon Lock dined at home in
- Manchester Square. The entire household trembled, for the formidable
- widower was obviously in a silent and bitter rage. He found the
- indefatigable Oakley in the library.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Has that ass Custer been here again?’ he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No, sir,’ said Oakley; ‘that ass Sir Arthur Custer has not been here
- within my knowledge.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Many a clerk of Simon Lock’s had suffered sudden dismissal for a far
- slighter peccadillo than this sally on the part of Mr. Oakley. The fact
- was, Simon Lock was too surprised at the pleasantry, coming as it did from
- a man who seldom joked, to take any practical notice of it. The two men—the
- clerk and the Napoleon of finance—glanced at each other.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are in a devilish merry humour tonight, Oakley!’ exclaimed Simon
- Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is my birthday, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How old are you?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Between thirty and sixty, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Listen,’ said Lock: ‘you shall come and dine with me. I never knew you in
- this mood before. I don’t feel like laughing myself, and I may give you
- the sack before we get past the fish; but come if you like.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘With pleasure, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- So they dined together in the great diningroom of the mansion, with a
- footman apiece, and a butler behind the footmen. Mr. Oakley’s mood was
- certainly singular to the last degree. Some people might have thought that
- his careless hilarity was due to the effects of intoxication, but this was
- not the case. And yet surely no one except a drunken man would have dared
- to behave to Simon Lock as he behaved. Mr. Oakley made deliberate fun of
- his master before the three menials, and the master never flinched nor
- jibbed. The fish was safely passed without an explosion, and the joint,
- the poultry, the sweets, and the priceless Cheshire cheese followed
- without mishap. When the coffee and cigars came round Simon Lock dismissed
- his servants.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oakley,’ he said, ‘why are you going to give me notice to leave?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I had no intention of leaving you, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I could swear,’ said Lock, ‘that you had had the offer of a better place,
- and were just amusing yourself with me before giving notice. It would be
- like you to do that, Oakley. You were always a bit of a mystery. I suppose
- you have come to the conclusion that Simon Lock’s career is over?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nothing of the kind, sir. I have merely been jolly because it is my
- birthday.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, Oakley, as it is your birthday, I don’t mind confessing to you that
- I am in something of a hole.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Over the La Princesse shares?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is a pity,’ said Oakley, ‘that we have been unable to lay our hands on
- Richard Redgrave.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You think, then, Oakley, that Redgrave, if we could catch him and make
- him speak, might be able to throw light on this little affair?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At any rate,’ said Oakley, ‘he might tell you why he so suddenly threw up
- his job.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, I would give something to get hold of Redgrave.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I felt that so strongly, sir, that I have myself been down to his place
- twice.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And have discovered nothing?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nothing. But——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, what is it?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was just thinking about the death of Featherstone. Featherstone lived
- in a couple of rooms in Blenheim Mansions, off the Edgware Road. Furnished
- rooms they were, let by a woman who has two flats on the same floor, and
- lets them out in small quantities to bachelors.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I wanted a couple of rooms myself.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Have you not sufficient accommodation here?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I wanted, as I was saying, a couple of rooms myself, and I had a fancy to
- take the two rooms once occupied by the deceased Featherstone. It was a
- morbid fancy, perhaps. The landlady seemed to think so. Anyhow, I took
- them. I entered into possession this afternoon, and locked the door.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Did you expect to see his ghost? Featherstone killed himself at the bank,
- not in his rooms.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am aware of it, sir,’ said Oakley. ‘I did not expect to see his ghost;
- I merely wanted to look round.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Look round for what?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘For anything interesting that I might be able to see.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But surely the police had searched?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, but they had found nothing. And I knew how anxious you were to find
- out anything that might be discovered about Feather-stone’s suicide.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Was that your reason for taking the rooms?’ Simon Lock sneered.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why not?’ said Oakley. ‘Why should it not have been my reason? I have
- always been loyal to you, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, well, did you find anything interesting, any trace of evidence that
- might clear up the mystery?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘There was apparently nothing in the rooms except the ordinary furniture
- of an ordinary lodging. In the bedroom a bed, a dressing-table, a
- washstand, a small table, a small wardrobe, two chairs, a small carpet, a
- few framed prints, and some nails behind the door. Nothing that could be
- called evidence. In the sitting-room—rather more elaborately
- furnished—were a dining-table, six chairs, an easy-chair, a
- firescreen, a large carpet, two footstools, a small sideboard, an old
- “Canterbury,” a mirror, some oleographs framed in German gold, and a few
- vases on the mantelpiece. Here is one of the vases.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Oakley jumped from the table and took from Simon Lock’s own
- mantelpiece a small vase, whose intruding presence Simon Lock had not
- noticed there. Mr. Oakley handed it carefully to Mr. Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Do you notice anything peculiar about it?’ he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock examined the vase attentively. It was in the shape of a
- cylinder, about seven inches high and three inches in diameter, and
- evidently a Staffordshire imitation of classic pottery. The ground-colour
- of the exterior was a brilliant red, and on this red were depicted several
- classic figures in white, with black outlines. Round the top edge the vase
- had been gilded. The interior surface of the vase was highly glazed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ said Simon Lock, ‘I see nothing peculiar about it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Neither did I at first, sir,’ said Mr. Oakley; ‘but see here.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He wetted the end of his finger, and drew from the interior of the vase a
- roll of stiffish white writing-paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That roll of paper,’ he said, ‘must have been dropped into the vase,
- whereupon it widened out till it filled the vase. The width of the paper
- happened to be exactly the height of the vase, and so the paper looked
- exactly like the internal surface of the vase. The resemblance would
- deceive almost anyone. I thought, as you did, that the vase was absolutely
- empty, but it was not.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And the paper?’ asked Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The paper,’ said Mr. Oakley, holding the strangely hidden document in his
- hand, ‘is double, as you see. On the inside it is filled with small
- writing, very small writing, and the signature is that of Featherstone. I
- have read it, and I have brought it here as a surprise for you—I
- hope a pleasant surprise. Hence what you were pleased to call my devilish
- merry humour.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Give it me,’ said Simon Lock briefly.
- </p>
- <p>
- His voice trembled.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Here it is, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock took the paper, and began to read with difficulty.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Turn another light on,’ he said, and Mr. Oakley obeyed.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XIV—FEATHERSTONE’S RECITAL
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>nd this is what
- Mr. Simon Lock read, while Mr. Oakley watched his master’s face. The
- calligraphy of the document was miraculously neat and small, and the thing
- had all the appearance of a declaration formally made:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Statement of me, Robert John Dalrymple Featherstone, made on the day
- before my death. (Here followed the date.)
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘This statement is intended to be perfectly plain and simple. I put down
- facts as they occur to me in the most straightforward possible way. I have
- never before in my life undertaken any sort of literary composition,
- beyond letters to acquaintances. My parents dying when I was a boy, and me
- being an only child, I have had no relatives; nor have I ever had an
- intimate friend. I do not know why I am at the trouble to write out this
- statement now. I only know that I am compelled to make it by an instinct,
- or an impulse, which overpowers my ordinary common-sense. It cannot be a
- matter of any importance that the world should understand the
- circumstances under which I am led to commit suicide. The world will not
- care. And, on the other hand, this statement may work harm, or at least
- annoyance, to one whom I love. Nevertheless I must write it. Everyone,
- perhaps, who commits suicide feels this tremendous desire to explain to
- the world the reasons of his act—that act for which there is no
- remedy, that act which he knows, if he is a Christian, must involve him in
- eternal remorse.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As I write I have a sort of feeling that what I put down may be printed
- in the newspapers. This feeling causes me to want to write unnaturally, in
- a strained and showy measure. I shall try to avoid this. All my life I
- have lived quiet and retired. This was not because I was modest. I am not
- more modest than other mediocre men. It was because I was shy and awkward
- and reserved by nature in the presence of others. When I am alone I feel
- bumptious, audacious; I feel like a popular actor.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But let me begin.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘My age is fifty-six. For thirty years I have been in the service of the
- British and Scottish Banking Corporation, Limited. For eight years before
- that I was in the service of a small private bank in Northamptonshire. I
- have always served the British and Scottish faithfully, to the best of my
- ability. Yet after thirty years I was only a cashier in a suburban branch
- with a salary of two hundred a year—such an income as many a more
- fortunate man spends on cigars and neckties. I do not, however, blame
- anyone for this. I do not blame myself. I realize clearly that I am a very
- mediocre man, and deserved nothing better. I never had any talent for
- banking. I never had any talent for anything. I became a bank clerk
- through the persuasion and influence of a distant uncle. I agreed with him
- that it was an honourable and dignified vocation. It has suited me. I got
- used to the official duties. I soon learnt how to live within my income. I
- had no vicious tastes—no tastes of any sort. I had no social gifts.
- I merely did my work conscientiously. My evenings I spent reading the
- papers and periodicals and smoking. I have smoked two ounces of Old Judge
- per week regularly for five-and-twenty years. I have never smoked before
- lunch except during my annual fortnight at the seaside. Every morning at
- breakfast I have read the <i>Standard</i>. My political opinions have
- never varied.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thus my life has been one of absolute sameness. There was no joy in it
- except the satisfaction of regular habits, and there was no sorrow, until
- last year but one (May 28th), when Miss Juana Craig walked into the office
- at Kilburn.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘She said, “Is my father in his office?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I did not know her, had never seen her before, but I guessed at once that
- she was the daughter of Mr. Raphael Craig, the manager of our branch. I
- say she said, “Is my father in his office?” Nothing beyond those words,
- and yet they had the same effect on me as if they had been the most
- magnificent piece of oratory. I was literally struck dumb with emotion.
- There was something peculiar in her rich voice that overcame me. She was
- obliged to repeat the question.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At last I said, “Miss Craig, I presume. No; Mr. Craig is not in, but he
- will be in shortly.” ‘I stammered this as though I had been repeating a
- badly-learnt lesson.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘She said, “Then I will wait in his room, if I may.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The way she said those last three words, “if I may,” made me feel dizzy.
- There was a sort of appeal in them. Of course I knew it was only
- politeness—formal politeness—yet I was deeply touched by it.
- And I felt ashamed that this beautiful girl should, in a way, have to beg
- a favour from old me.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said, “With pleasure.” And then I took her into Mr. Craig’s room, and
- she sat down, and said what wet weather we were having, and I tried to
- talk to her. But she was too beautiful. I could not help thinking all the
- time that my hair was grey, and my moustache part grey and part sandy, and
- that I had my office coat on, with paper shields over my wrist-bands, and
- that I was only five feet two inches in height. At last I came out of the
- room, and as I did so all the clerks looked at me, laughing, and I blushed
- violently. I do not remember ever blushing before.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘One clerk said jokingly, “Hello, Feather (they called me Feather), what
- ha’ you been up to in there?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘If I had been a bigger man I would have knocked him down.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I had never had anything to do with women, except, in a purely business
- way, with our lady customers. Our lady customers all liked having their
- cheques cashed, etc., by me, because I was always so strictly polite to
- them. But, strange to say, I could not be polite to Miss Craig, though
- never before had I wanted so badly to be polite to any woman.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘After that day Miss Craig seemed to call every day, or nearly every day,
- for her father, just after closing time in the afternoon. She was on a
- motor-car, and they went off together up towards Edgware, Mr. Craig having
- a house in the country near Dunstable. Sometimes I came out on to the
- pavement to see them off. Once or twice I waved good-bye to them, and once
- I actually kissed my hand to Miss Juana. It was a very daring thing to do,
- and after I had done it I wished I had not! done it, but I could not help
- doing it. She did not take offence, and the next day she was more charming
- than ever. She is the sweetest, most womanly creature that God ever made.
- My wonder is that the other clerks did not seem to see this. They never
- went further than to say that she was a pretty girl. I despised them. I
- despise them now more than ever.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘One Friday afternoon Mr. Craig said, “Featherstone, have you anything
- particular to do this week-end?” I said that I had not. He said, “Well,
- will you come up with us to-morrow, and spend the week-end with us?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Before I could answer anything Miss Juana said, “Yes, do, Mr.
- Featherstone, there’s a dear man. We should love to have you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The charming and adorable creature condescended to joke. I said, “I
- gladly accept your very kind invitation.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So I went up and stayed at their house till the Monday morning. Miss
- Juana drove down on the motor-car, me sitting by her side, and Mr. Craig
- behind. It was very enjoyable.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig himself was very polite to me during my visit, and so was Miss
- Teresa, Miss Juana’s sister. Miss Teresa drove us back to London on the
- Monday morning. And for this I was sorry; not that I have a word to say
- against Miss Teresa, who is a pretty enough girl, and amiable. Just before
- we started on the journey to London Mr. Craig put a small but heavy
- portmanteau under the back seat of the motor-car. I asked him what that
- was, merely from idle curiosity, and he said, “Money, my lad.” The two
- ladies were not about I laughed, thinking he was joking. But that day he
- called me into his private room and said, in a very ordinary tone of
- voice, “Featherstone, here is fifty pounds in new silver. Pay it into my
- private account.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘“Yes, sir,” I said, not thinking. It was the luncheon hour, and nearly
- all the clerks were out. I casually examined the silver. Of course I can
- distinguish a bad coin in a moment, almost by instinct. I seem to be
- mysteriously warned of the approach of a bad coin. But this money was all
- right. The next morning Miss Juana called in, and she and I had a chat. I
- liked her more and more. And, either I was an insufferably conceited ass,
- or she liked me. I knew there was more than thirty years’ difference
- between us. But I said to myself, “Pooh! what is thirty years? A man is as
- young as he feels.” I knew that I had only an income of two hundred a
- year, which might rise to two hundred and twenty-five or two hundred and
- fifty; but I said to myself that thousands of people married happily on
- less than that. I felt that it was impudent on my part to aspire to the
- hand of this angel; but I also said to myself that it was always impudence
- that succeeded.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Anyhow, I was madly and deeply in love, I, bank cashier, aged fifty odd.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Two hours after Miss Juana had called Mr. Craig called me into his room
- and said again in a very ordinary tone of voice: “Featherstone, here is
- another fifty pounds in silver. Pay it into my private account.” As
- before, the money lay in piles on his desk. “Yes, sir,” I said. I thought
- it very strange, but my mind was preoccupied with Miss Juana, and he was
- Miss Juana’s father, so I said nothing else. Again, most of the other
- clerks were out when I filled up the slip and put the cash into the
- drawers. All that day I thought of Miss Juana. Let me say now that I am
- convinced she had no part in the plot, for it was a plot, which Mr. Craig
- laid against me.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At the end of that week Mr. Craig had paid over two hundred pounds’ worth
- of new silver into his private account, and these payments continued. In a
- fortnight I was asked down to the Craigs’ country house again. I cannot
- describe my courtship of Miss Juana. I find my statement is getting too
- long. But in any event I could not describe it. It was the most precious,
- the only precious fragment of my life. The only drawback to my timid
- happiness was Mr. Craig’s attitude to me—a sort of insinuating
- attitude, quite at variance with the usual style of this powerfully-minded
- and very reticent man. The payments of new silver continued. In a business
- of the magnitude of our Kilburn branch the silver was, of course,
- distributed in the ordinary routine of affairs without special notice
- being taken of it.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘One day I proposed to Miss Juana. It was a terrible moment for me. To
- this hour I do not know how I dared to do it. To my inconceivable
- astonishment and joy Miss Juana said: “You honour me, Mr. Featherstone. I
- am a poor girl. My father is not rich. I do not love you, but I like you,
- and I esteem you. I accept your hand.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Later I said to Mr. Craig: “Mr. Craig, I have asked your daughter Juana
- to be my wife, and she has done me the honour to consent. Do you also
- consent?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said in reply: “My dear Featherstone, you will pardon me, but, of
- course, I know the amount of your salary. Have you any other resources?” I
- said that I had none.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The interview grew strangely complex. I see now that he handled me with
- consummate skill and adroitness. It came to this. He said:
- </p>
- <p>
- “Assist me in a scheme of mine which is approaching completion, and when
- it is complete I will give you twenty thousand pounds. But you will be
- bound to secrecy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said to him: “Is your scheme in any way contrary to the law?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said: “Frankly, it is. But, Feather-stone, you are in love, and there
- is no crime in my scheme.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I admit that Mr. Craig’s offer of twenty thousand pounds dazzled me at
- first, especially as I began instantly to perceive that my life’s
- happiness would depend on my acceptance of it. You may ask what right a
- man aged fifty odd has to talk of a life’s happiness—a man who
- probably has not more than ten years to live. Let me suggest that it is
- impossible for any man, however old, not to believe that he will survive
- for an indefinitely long period, unless he be actually on his death-bed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Moreover, I was profoundly in love. I loved with the intense and
- restrained passion of, which only a middle-aged man in love for the first
- time is capable. No young man, with the facile ardours of youth, could
- appreciate my feelings. Be that as it may—and I have no wish at this
- solemn hour to attempt to excuse myself—my demeanour certainly gave
- Mr. Craig the impression that I had no objection to becoming his
- confederate. His face showed that he was pleased—that a weight had
- been lifted from his mind.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said: “Give me your oath that you will disclose nothing of what I am
- about to tell you.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “But suppose I do not see my way——”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He interrupted me very grimly: “What does that matter? Anyhow, I presume
- you can see your way to hold your tongue?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So, not without qualms, I gave him an oath of secrecy. He then told me
- that he had been coining silver for many years—that his object had
- been to coin a hundred thousand pounds’ worth, and that he was then at the
- end of his long task.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “But you just now told me that you had not involved yourself in
- any crime; surely to utter false money is a crime?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said with sudden anger: “It is not false money; it is perfectly good
- money. It is exactly the silver produced by the Mint, and neither you nor
- anyone could tell the difference.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He then explained to me how it was profitable for him, owing to the very
- low price of silver, to make real money, good in every respect. He
- finished by saying that no one was robbed by his device.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “Excuse me, but the Government is robbed, and, since the
- Government represents the public, the public is robbed. You are robbing
- the public. Besides, coining is a crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He burst out: “Only in the eyes of the law. It is not a real crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said, as quietly as I could: “That may be; real or unreal, it is a
- crime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He went on, apparently not noticing my observation: “Anyhow, I find it
- necessary to put this money into circulation at a far quicker rate than I
- have previously achieved. The years are slipping by. I have by me vast
- accumulations of silver money, and I must negotiate them. I will tell you
- my object, Featherstone: it is to take a just revenge upon a scoundrel
- who, more than twenty years ago—before her birth—cast a shadow—a
- terrible shadow—over the life of the girl whom you love. Will not
- that move you?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I exclaimed: “Juana?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said: “Yes, Juana and her sister and their poor mother. I have lived
- till now only to carry out that scheme—only to see this man at my
- feet ruined and begging for a mercy which I shall not vouchsafe.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I own that I was moved to sympathy by the fearful earnestness of Mr.
- Craig. I asked him who the man was.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He replied: “That I will not tell you, nor will I tell you his sin, nor
- the precise nature of my revenge, until you agree to join me. Surely you,
- as the professed lover of Juana, will not hesitate for a moment?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But I did hesitate.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “First, let me ask you one or two questions.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said coldly and bitterly: “Ask.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So I asked: “You want me to help you in passing this coin which has not
- come from the Royal Mint?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He replied with eagerness: “Yes. I want one or two accounts opened at
- other banks, and certain operations put into action with financiers and
- specie dealers. Also, with your help, I can do a lot at our own bank.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “It seems to me you have already done something there.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He laughed, and outlined to me the various means, all very ingenious, by
- which he had already disposed of a lot of silver.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “Another question: Am I to understand that if I decline to join
- you you will withhold your consent to my marriage with i your daughter?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He answered: “If now, at this stage, you decline to join me, I would see
- both you and Juana dead before I allowed you to marry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘His manner was ferocious. I could see that he was absolutely absorbed—that
- his whole moral being was cankered by this life-long idea of a mysterious
- revenge. And though I did not allow him to guess the fact, I was annoyed
- at his attempt to intimidate me. I am not to be intimidated.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “I will think it over, and give you my answer shortly.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I saw Juana privately, told her that her father had not given me a
- definite answer, and returned to London in order that I might think the
- matter over with the more calmness. In the same house with that angelic
- presence it was impossible for me to think at all. I deem it right to
- state that I believed—and still believe—that Mr. Craig was
- telling me the truth, and that he was of sound mind. I truly believed—and
- still believe—that some man, the object of Mr. Craig’s hate, had
- deeply wronged Juana, her sister and her mother, and that Mr. Craig was
- animated in all that he did by a lofty conception of human justice. I
- guessed, further, that there was probably no means by which Mr. Craig
- could bring this man, whoever he might be, before the tribunals of the law
- (how many crimes slip through the wide meshes of the law!), and that
- therefore he had no alternative but a private vengeance. The idea of
- vengeance on behalf of Juana—that beloved being—appealed
- strongly to my deepest feelings.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nevertheless, on mature consideration, I felt that I could not become a
- party to Mr. Craig’s scheme. I have always tried to live an honest life,
- and I have never accepted the sophism that the end justifies the means. In
- three days I returned to the house near Dunstable and told Mr. Craig my
- decision. He was enraged.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said: “Then you prefer to give up Juana?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “Do you think you are acting fairly in insisting that no man
- shall be Juana’s husband unless he consents to commit a crime against the
- law?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said: “Bosh!”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Before such an argument I was dumb. I saw more and more clearly that Mr.
- Craig was what is called a monomaniac, and a very determined and obdurate
- one.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘After further and useless words, I left him and sought Juana.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said to her: “Miss Juana, your father forbids us to marry.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘She replied in a strange tone: “My father is a harsh man, Robert. He can
- be very cruel. Although I feel that he loves Teresa and myself
- passionately, you can have no idea of the life we live here. Sometimes it
- is terrible. Teresa is my father’s favourite, and I—I sometimes hate
- him. I hate him now. Perhaps because I cannot comprehend him. Robert, I
- will marry you without his consent.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I cannot describe my emotions at that moment. Her use of my Christian
- name thrilled me through and through. There was something in the tone of
- her voice which caused strange and exquisite vibrations in me. I thank God
- now that I had strength to behave as an English gentleman should behave.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “Miss Juana, your kindness overwhelms me. But I should be
- unworthy of your love if I took advantage of it. I am an old-fashioned
- man, with old-fashioned views, and I could not marry a lady in the face of
- her parent’s opposition.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Without a word, she ran out of the house. I saw that she was crying. A
- few minutes afterwards I saw her galloping wildly down the road on her
- strawberry-roan mare. She was the most magnificent and superb horsewoman I
- have ever set eyes on.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The incident, as the phrase goes, was closed.
- </p>
- <p>
- I had enjoyed the acquaintance of Miss Juana for nearly twelve months. I
- enjoyed it no longer. The relations between Mr. Craig and myself resumed
- their old formality. He was nothing but the bank manager; I was nothing
- but the cashier. The pity was that I was bound to secrecy as regards his
- scheme; and I saw that his scheme was maturing. Without the slightest
- scruple, he made use of me to aid in disposing of his silver through the
- bank. He could depend on my honour, though my honour made a criminal of
- me. Things got worse and worse. His methods grew bolder and bolder. A year
- passed. One day he told another clerk in the office that a great-uncle had
- died and left him a hundred thousand pounds in new silver. He turned to
- me, who happened to be close by.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘“A strange fellow! I have mentioned his peculiarities to you before now,
- have I not, Featherstone?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Scarcely knowing what I said, I answered, “Yes.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was thus by an audacious stroke made a party to his dodge for
- explaining away the extraordinary prevalence of new silver. Previously to
- this I had noticed that he was drawing large cheques in favour of a firm
- of stockbrokers.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘At length I could stand it no more. I went into his private room and
- said: “Mr. Craig, either you must cease your illegal proceedings, or you
- must release me from my oath of secrecy.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said flatly: “I shall do neither.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Of course I could see that my request was foolish. He had me between his
- thumb and finger.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I then said: “Very well, Mr. Craig, there is one alternative left to me—I
- resign my position in the bank. You force me to do this.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He said: “As you wish.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He was relentless. So I was cast on the world, at my age. I had no hope
- of obtaining another situation. But what else could I do? By remaining in
- the service of the bank, and allowing Mr. Craig to make it the channel for
- disposing of false money, I was betraying my trust to the bank. The truth
- was I ought to have done a year before what I did then.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘My savings amounted to about a hundred pounds.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Soon after this final step I discovered, to my equal grief and
- astonishment, that Miss Juana had left her father’s house—doubtless
- he had practically driven her forth—and was earning her living in a
- travelling circus. I ascertained where the circus was, and I had an
- interview with Miss Juana one night after the performance. Miss Juana was
- in her circus-dress, a curiously showy riding-habit, and she had paint on
- her dear face. The interview was inexpressibly painful to me. I cannot
- narrate it in full.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said: “Miss Juana, marry me. I implore you! Never mind your father’s
- consent. Anything to save you from this. I implore you to marry me! I love
- you more than ever.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I did not tell her that I had no means of livelihood now. I had
- absolutely forgotten the fact.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘She replied: “Why, Mr. Featherstone, I am getting an honest living.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I said again: “Marry me.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I could not argue.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘She said: “A year ago I would have married you. I liked you. But I cannot
- marry you now.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I asked madly: “Why?”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘She replied: “Things have happened in the meantime.”
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I returned to London last night and bought a revolver. It is my intention
- to kill myself in Mr. Craig’s own room while he is out at lunch. This
- seems to me proper, but I may be mad. Who knows? My brain may be unhinged.
- As for my oath of secrecy, Raphael Craig cannot demand secrecy from a dead
- man. If this document leads to his punishment, let it. I care not. And
- Juana, as she says herself, is getting an honest living. She is
- independent of her terrible father.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is half-past one o’clock in the morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- In twelve hours I shall be in the beyond. I will place this statement in a
- vase on the mantelpiece. Let who will find it.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Given under my dying hand,
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Robert J. Dalrymple Featherstone.’
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- When Simon Lock had finished the perusal of this document he passed his
- hand before his eyes. The dead man’s handwriting, although perfectly
- clear, was so fine that even the delicate shades of Simon Lock’s electric
- chandelier had not been able to prevent the august financier from feeling
- the effects of the strain; but the condition of his eyes was a trifle. He
- experienced a solid and satisfying joy—such joy as he had not felt
- for a very long time.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You have read it?’ he questioned Oakley.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I took that liberty, sir,’ said Oakley, who was now the old Oakley again—formal,
- dry, submissive.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And what did you think of it, Oakley?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I thought, sir, that it might prove useful to you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Did you assume that I was the unnamed man against whom this wonderful
- Raphael Craig is directing what he calls his vengeance?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Ah!’ breathed Simon Lock. ‘I’ve just got this in time.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You think that you have got it in time, sir?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, my young friend. It is a nice question whether it constitutes legal
- evidence, but anyhow, it constitutes a lever which I think I can use
- pretty effectively upon Mr. Craig.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Then you deem it valuable, sir?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What do you think it is worth to you, sir?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Oakley looked peculiarly at his master, who paused.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, Oakley,’ he said at length, ‘since you put it in that way, it is
- worth, we’ll say, a hundred pounds to me. I’ll draw you a cheque. It will
- pay the expenses of your summer holiday.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Oakley impassively. ‘May I just glance at the
- document again, sir? There was one point——’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock handed him the dead man’s message. Oakley took it, folded it
- carefully, and placed it in his pocket.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What the devil are you doing?’ Simon Lock demanded angrily.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I was venturing to think, sir, that, after all, the document belonged to
- me by right of discovery. And since I have the misfortune to differ from
- you as to its monetary value——’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock jumped up, and then he looked rather cautiously at Mr. Oakley’s
- somewhat muscular frame.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Look here——’ Simon Lock began imperatively.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In my hip-pocket I have a revolver, Mr. Lock,’ said Mr. Oakley. ‘Force,
- therefore, would be a mistake.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I see,’ said Simon Lock. ‘Well, what do you think the thing worth?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Ten thousand pounds,’ said Mr. Oakley imperturbably. ‘I will hand it over
- to you in exchange for a promissory note for that amount payable at three
- months.’
- </p>
- <p>
- There was a long pause. Simon Lock had the precious gift of knowing when
- he was beaten.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I accept,’ he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thank you; here is the document,’ said Oakley when he had received the
- promissory note.
- </p>
- <p>
- After Simon Lock had transferred the paper to his own pocket he remarked:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Oakley, the position which you occupy here is quite beneath your high
- capabilities. I dismiss you. I will write you out a cheque for a month’s
- wages. Leave the house within an hour.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘With pleasure, sir,’ said Mr. Oakley, exactly as he had accepted the
- invitation to dinner.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XV—ARRIVAL OF SIMON
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t Queen’s Farm,
- Hockliffe, the excitations of the terrible evening on which Juana faced
- her father, and on which Richard and Teresa were betrothed, seemed to have
- exhausted the actors in those trying scenes. Only Teresa herself
- maintained her spirits through a night of sleeplessness, and Teresa’s eyes
- disclosed a simple and profound happiness of the soul, which proved how
- well the forced engagement with Richard suited her inclinations. As for
- Richard, he, too, was happy in the betrothal, but his experience of the
- world—a thousandfold greater than Teresa’s—was responsible for
- forebodings that filled him with apprehension. He could not but feel that
- disaster—perhaps immediate disaster—waited upon the schemes of
- Raphael Craig, those schemes of whose success the old man was so proudly
- confident Richard guessed, naturally, that Raphael Craig was waging war on
- Simon Lock, and his common-sense predicted with assurance that in this
- struggle of the weak against the strong the strong would crush and the
- weak would be crushed. The exact nature of Raphael Craig’s plan, of which
- Richard was still in ignorance, seemed to the young man to be a matter of
- comparative unimportance. He perceived, at any rate, that the campaign was
- a financial one. That was enough; in the realm of finance Simon Lock had
- long been peerless, and though, as the newspaper hinted, Simon was
- temporarily at a disadvantage, it was absurd to pretend for an instant
- that Raphael Craig, undistinguished, even unknown, could win.
- </p>
- <p>
- So ran the course of Richard’s thoughts as he lay resting during the early
- hours of the morning on the Chesterfield in the drawing-room. Raphael
- Craig had retired to his room. Teresa had also retired. Juana and Bridget
- were attending on the stricken detective. Each had expressed her intention
- of sitting up all night. Whenever Richard’s somewhat somnolent meditations
- turned in the direction of the detective he could not help thinking that
- here, in this sick man, helpless, hurt, delirious, was the instrument of
- Simon Lock’s ultimate success. Nolan knew, or Nolan shrewdly surmised now,
- that Raphael Craig had grossly outraged the Coinage Acts. Nolan had
- doubtless collected a sufficient body of evidence at least to secure a
- committal for trial, and so it was an indubitable fact to be faced that,
- immediately Nolan recovered, or partially recovered, the forces of the law
- would be set in motion against Craig—against Craig, the father of
- his betrothed. Then—Queen’s Farm would doubtless explode like a
- bomb!
- </p>
- <p>
- But was Raphael Craig the father of his betrothed? Had Juana lied on the
- previous night, or had the old man lied? Here were questions which Richard
- preferred to shirk rather than to answer.
- </p>
- <p>
- A much more important question was, What would Raphael Craig be likely to
- do in regard to Nolan? As things stood, Nolan was at his mercy—helpless
- in his house. Certainly Craig would by this time have arrived at the
- conclusion that instantly Nolan was enabled to leave the house his own
- ruin would occur. Richard did not believe that Craig’s scheme could
- possibly succeed after Craig was clapped in prison as a coiner. He,
- indeed, suspected that Craig had only made this boast in order to dispel
- any suspicions which Richard might entertain as to the bodily safety of
- Nolan within the precincts of Queen’s Farm.
- </p>
- <p>
- Yet it came to that: Richard was not without fear that the old man might
- attempt to murder Nolan. Nolan dead, and his body disposed of, Craig was
- safe. It was a frightful thought, but Raphael Craig’s demeanour whenever
- he referred to his life-long scheme of vengeance gave at least some excuse
- for it.
- </p>
- <p>
- At eight o’clock there was a tap at the drawing-room door. Richard jumped
- up and came out of the room. Bridget stood before him.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Miss Teresa up?’ he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ said the housekeeper, ‘and not likely to be yet, the darling! I came
- to give ye a hint, Mr. Redgrave, that ye might do worse than seek a
- breakfast down in the village, at the White Horse.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Micky, ye mean? Better—though the spalpeen doesn’t deserve God’s
- goodness nor Miss Juana’s loving care.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig up?’ he asked further ‘No,’ said Bridget.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Richard, ‘I’ll go down to the village, and come back again in
- a couple of hours.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How’s the patient?’ he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- He passed quietly out of the house. He had, however, not the slightest
- intention of going down to the village. Determined to ignore the fact that
- he had been caught as a spy once, and the risk that he might be caught
- again, he turned to the left as soon as he was out of the garden and crept
- under the garden wall up to the sheds, which he cautiously entered. Safely
- within the range of buildings, he soon found an outlook therefrom which
- commanded a view of the house—a vantage-point whence he could see
- without being seen.
- </p>
- <p>
- Nothing unusual occurred. Indeed, save that Bridget came forth to attend
- to the mares, having doubtless been instructed to do so by Teresa, nothing
- occurred at all till a little after nine o’clock. Then Mr. Craig issued
- quickly out of the house, went along the boreen, and down towards the
- village. At a discreet distance Richard followed him, for he deemed it his
- bounden-duty to keep an eye on Raphael Craig until Nolan, the detective,
- should have departed from the house. It was not pleasant for him to think
- of his prospective father-in-law as a potential murderer, but he had no
- alternative save to face the possibility. It is a full mile from Queen’s
- Farm to Hockliffe village. Mr. Craig, however, walked quickly, and the
- distance was soon accomplished. The old man went into the general store,
- which is also the post-office—a tiny place crammed with the produce
- of the East and of the West. After a moment’s hesitation, Richard also
- walked towards the post-office. When he reached it, Mr. Craig was in the
- act of paying for a telegram.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Hullo! Good-morning,’ said Raphael Craig blithely. ‘What are you doing
- here?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I came for some stamps,’ Richard answered.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Hum! They said you’d gone down to the village for breakfast. What with
- one thing and another, our household arrangements are somewhat upset, I’m
- afraid. Ta-ta!’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig left the shop, apparently quite incurious as to Richard’s
- doings or plans for the day. Richard was decidedly reassured by the man’s
- demeanour. He seemed as sane, as calm, as collected as a bank manager
- could be. And yet—last night!
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard breakfasted at the hostelry of the White Horse, and then walked
- slowly back to Queen’s Farm. As he approached the house he met Richard
- Craig again going down to the village. Four times that day the old man
- went down himself to the village post-office to despatch telegrams, and he
- openly stated that he was going to despatch telegrams.
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa was in the orchard, and Richard went to her. He said that he did
- not see how he could stay longer in the house, that he ought to return to
- London, and yet that he scarcely cared to leave.
- </p>
- <p>
- To his surprise, Teresa appeared agitated and distressed at the mere idea
- of his leaving.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Don’t go at present,’ she urged him. ‘Stay at least another twenty-four
- hours. Just think how I am fixed. That man ill and delirious—by the
- way, Juana won’t leave his side—and father and Juana not on speaking
- terms. There is no knowing what may happen. We needn’t pretend to each
- other, Dick, that there isn’t something very peculiar and mysterious about
- father. I dare say you know more than I do, and I shan’t ask questions. I
- don’t want to know, Dick, so long as you’re here. But do stay a bit. Stay
- till something turns up.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Till something turns up?’ He repeated her phrase. ‘What do you mean?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I don’t know,’ she said simply; ‘but stay.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He kissed her.
- </p>
- <p>
- That night Richard was provided with a bed, but he found himself unable to
- sleep on it. About the middle of the night—or so it seemed to him—there
- was a rap on his door.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Redgrave.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The voice was Juana’s.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ he answered. ‘Anything the matter?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Can you come and speak to Mr. Nolan? He wants to speak to you, and
- nothing else will satisfy him.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard rose and dressed, and came out on the landing, where a lamp was
- burning. Juana, fully dressed, her eyes ringed with fatigue, stood waiting
- for him. She beckoned him down the side-passage, and he entered the room
- occupied by the sick man.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Shut the door,’ the sick man commanded in a febrile voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- As though it had been previously arranged between them, Juana kept out of
- the room. Richard and the detective were alone together.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You’re looking better,’ Richard said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Don’t talk so loud,’ said Nolan. ‘That old scoundrel sleeps next door.
- Yes, I’m better,’ he went on rather wearily, shifting the position of a
- pillow, ‘thanks to nursing. I wish to say something to you. You know a
- good deal about my business up here. You’ve been on the same business
- yourself. Well, look here: if any questions are asked, I don’t want you to
- know anything about what I’ve done or what I’ve found out.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Whatever do you mean?’ Richard asked. ‘Oh dear!’ the other said
- pettishly; ‘can’t you understand? I mean down at Scotland Yard. If any of
- ‘em should come to you, you know, say nothing. Fact is, I’m going to let
- the old man off, if I can—I’m bound to let him off. It’s all got to
- be hushed up, if Mr. Nolan, Esquire, can manage it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why?’ asked Richard calmly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why did you chuck the job up?’ returned Nolan. ‘Can’t I follow your
- example?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Do you mean that you—er—Miss Juana?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Precisely,’ said Nolan. ‘I met her down at Limerick months ago—long
- before the death of old Featherstone—when I was engaged on inquiries
- about old Craig’s antecedents, to try if I couldn’t throw any light on the
- matter of his treasure of new silver, which has interested the police for
- a year past. I met her. I hadn’t the least notion that she was his
- daughter. I was afraid that I should never see her again. And then, when I
- woke up in the cursed little room here and found her bending over me—by
- Heaven, it was too much! For the time, I do believe, it made me worse. She
- has told me a lot to-day. I haven’t been delirious since early this
- morning. Oh yes, Redgrave, I’ve got to chuck it. I wouldn’t harm that
- woman, or anything that belonged to her—not to be Chief of Police in
- Paris! You and I must put our heads together and concoct a tale that will
- satisfy the people in London.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The door opened, and Juana entered with a firm step.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Time’s up,’ she said, looking at the man in bed. ‘I gave you five
- minutes, and you’ve had ten. Good-night, Mr. Redgrave—and thanks.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Here indeed was spirited nursing.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard retired to his own room, intending to think things over, but
- instead of thinking, for some reason or other, he slept heavily till nine
- o’clock. Then he dressed and descended, and, seeing no one about, went
- into the garden. Almost at the same moment a light trap drove up to the
- garden-gate. Telling the driver not to wait, a man got down from the
- vehicle. It was Mr. Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Ah! Mr. Redgrave,’ said Simon Lock, ‘you seem to be at home here. Can you
- tell me if Mr. Craig is at home?’
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVI—THE INTERVIEW
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">A</span>t the same moment
- as Simon Lock spoke a window opened in the upper story of Queen’s Farm,
- and Raphael Craig showed his head. Raphael Craig was fully dressed, and
- his face had the freshness of morning. Richard looked apprehensively from
- one to the other of these old men and old enemies, expecting from either
- or both an outburst of wrath—such a terrible outburst as twenty
- years might have prepared; but nothing of the kind happened.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Good-morning, Mr. Lock,’ said Raphael Craig blandly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock, equally with Richard, was astonished by the mildness of this
- greeting.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Good-day to you,’ said Simon Lock. ‘You do not seem surprised to see me,’
- he added.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not in the least,’ said Craig. ‘On the contrary, I was expecting you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock started.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Ah!’ was all he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Excuse me one instant,’ said Craig. ‘I will be down immediately to
- welcome you to my house. You will, I trust, take breakfast with us. And
- you, too, Redgrave, will breakfast with us. Let me beg you not to run away
- as you did yesterday morning.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The bank manager had positively turned courtier!
- </p>
- <p>
- On his way down he intercepted Mrs. Bridget between the dining-room and
- the kitchen, and told her to have breakfast ready for five within half an
- hour.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But——’ began Mrs. Bridget, raising her bony hands.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘For five,’ repeated Raphael Craig, ‘in half an hour.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Then he went forward, and invited Simon Lock to enter, and led him to the
- drawing-room, and Richard also. His attitude towards his guests, though a
- shade formal, was irreproachably hospitable. Anyone could see that Simon
- Lock felt himself at a disadvantage. The great and desperate financier had
- anticipated a reception utterly different; this suavity and benignity did
- not fit in with the plan of campaign which he had schemed out, and he was
- nonplussed.
- </p>
- <p>
- Once he did manage to put in:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I called to see you, Craig——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘After breakfast, I pray——’ the other cut him short.
- </p>
- <p>
- A gong rang. Raphael Craig rose and opened the drawing-room door, and the
- three men passed into the dining-room. Coffee, bacon, and eggs were on the
- table. The two girls—Teresa in a light summer frock and Juana still
- in her dark habit—stood by the mantelpiece. They were evidently in a
- state of great curiosity as to the stranger, the rumour of whose advent
- had reached them through Mrs. Bridget. Juana was, beyond question,
- perturbed. The fact was that at Teresa’s instigation she had meant that
- morning to approach her father amicably, and was fearful of the upshot.
- Raphael Craig, however, cut short her suspense. He kissed both girls on
- the forehead, and then said:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Lock, let me introduce my daughter Juana, my daughter Teresa. My
- dears, this is Mr. Simon Lock, who has run down to see me on a matter of
- business, and will do us the honour of breakfasting with us.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The meal, despite the ordinariness of its service, had the deadly and
- tremendous formality of a state dinner at Buckingham Palace. Conversation,
- led judicially by the host himself, was kept up without a break, but Simon
- Lock distinctly proved that the social arts were not his forte. The girls
- talked timidly, like school misses on their best behaviour, while
- Richard’s pose and Richard’s words were governed by more than his
- characteristic caution. Only Raphael Craig seemed at ease, and the old man
- appeared to take a ferocious but restrained delight in the unnatural
- atmosphere which he had created. It was as if he saw written on every face
- the expectation of some dreadful sequel, and rejoiced in those signs of
- fear and dread. His eyes said: ‘Yes, I can see that you are all
- desperately uncomfortable. It is well. You are afraid of something
- happening, and you shall not be disappointed.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Now, girls,’ he said lightly, after the meal was finished, ‘go and amuse
- yourselves, and don’t forget your poor patient upstairs.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You have someone ill in the house?’ Simon Lock ventured.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Craig; ‘a fool of a Scotland Yard detective who got himself
- into trouble up here by ferreting about.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock turned pale.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He was nearly killed,’ Raphael Craig went on. ‘We are nursing him back to
- life,’ The old man laughed. ‘And now for our business,’ he said, and
- turned to Richard. ‘I will see Mr. Lock in the drawing-room, and I shall
- ask you, Mr. Redgrave, to be present at our interview.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Is that necessary?’ asked Simon Lock pompously.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have omitted to tell you,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘that Mr. Richard
- Redgrave is my prospective son-in-law, engaged to my daughter Teresa. I
- have no secrets from him.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock bowed. They returned to the drawing-room, and at a sign from
- Raphael Craig Richard closed the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Now, Mr. Lock,’ said Raphael Craig when they were seated, ‘what can I do
- for you?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You said from your bedroom window that you were expecting me,’ Simon Lock
- replied. ‘Therefore you are probably aware of the nature of my business,
- since I have given you no warning of my arrival.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Mr. Lock’s face disclosed the fact that he had summoned all his faculties—and
- he was a man of many faculties—to the task that lay before him.
- Various things had irked and annoyed him that morning, but in order to
- retain the mien of diplomacy he was compelled to seem to ignore them.
- There could be no doubt, for example, that he bitterly resented the
- presence of Richard at this interview, but what could he do save swallow
- the affront? The whole situation was a humiliating one for Simon Lock, who
- was much more accustomed to dictate terms than to have terms dictated to
- him. Still, it was to his credit as a man of nerve and a man of resource
- that he was able to adapt himself to unusual circumstances. He had a
- triple feat to perform—to keep his dignity, to be diplomatic, and to
- be firm. He had come with a precise end in view, and he was willing to
- sacrifice everything to that end. Behold him, therefore, in the
- drawing-room at Queen’s Farm—him, the demi-god of the City, trying
- to show a pleasant and yet a formidable face under extraordinary trials.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is true,’ said Raphael Craig, ‘that I expected you. But it was my
- instinct more than anything else that led me to expect you. You come, I
- presume, about the shares of La Princesse Mine.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Exactly,’ said Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You have contracted to sell more of these shares than you can supply, and
- the price has risen?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Exactly,’ said Simon Lock, smiling cautiously.
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig was, so far, courtesy itself.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And you wish to get the bargain cancelled?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am prepared to pay for the accommodation.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And to get the bargain cancelled,’ Craig pursued, ‘you come to me.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I come to you,’ repeated Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yet you could have no direct knowledge that I had any influence over
- these shares.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No direct knowledge,’ said Lock; ‘but an indirect knowledge. Perhaps,’ he
- added, in a peculiar tone, ‘I know more than you guess.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As for example?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Perhaps I could answer the question, which certainly demands an answer,
- how you, a mere manager of a branch of our bank, in receipt of a not
- excessive salary, found the money to become a power on the Westralian
- market. As the chairman of the directors of the bank I have, I think, Mr.
- Craig, the right to put that question.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You have first to prove that I indeed am a power on the Westralian
- market.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The proof of that is in the mere fact that I—I—am here at the
- present moment.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig smiled.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are correct,’ he said. ‘That fact is a proof in itself. I admit that
- I am a power. To save unnecessary words, I frankly admit that I hold La
- Princesse Mine in the hollow of my hand. You have come to the proper
- person, Mr. Lock. We meet at last. And am I to understand that one object
- of your visit here is to discover how I became possessed of the means
- which a manipulator of markets must possess?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I confess I should like to know from your own lips.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, Mr. Lock, I shall not tell you. It is no business of yours. The
- sole fact that concerns you is that I am in a position to control this
- particular market, not how I arrived at that position.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig’s tone had suddenly become inimical, provocative, almost
- insolent.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock coughed. The moment had come. He said:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘On the night before his decease the late Mr. Featherstone, whose death we
- all lament, wrote out a sort of confession——’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are mistaken,’ said Raphael Craig, with absolute imperturbability;
- ‘it was on the last night but one before his death. After writing it out,
- he changed his mind about killing himself instantly. He came up here to
- see me instead. He told me he had put everything on paper. He made an
- urgent request, a very urgent request, to me to reconsider a certain
- decision of mine. I declined to reconsider it. On the other hand, I
- thoughtfully offered him a bed. He accepted it, left the next morning, and
- killed himself. I merely mention these circumstances for the sake of
- historical exactitude. I suppose you have somehow got hold of
- Featherstone’s document.’
- </p>
- <p>
- At this point Richard rose and walked to the window. The frosty coldness,
- the cynical carelessness, of Raphael Craig’s manner made him feel almost
- ill. He was amazed at this revelation of the depth of the old man’s
- purpose to achieve his design at no matter what cost.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I have got hold of it—somehow,’ said Simon Lock. ‘You may judge
- what I think of its value when I tell you that I paid ten thousand pounds
- for it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Hum!’ murmured Craig. ‘What surprises me is that the police did not get
- hold of it long ago. They must be very careless searchers. My opinion of
- Scotland Yard is going down rapidly.’ He paused, and then continued: ‘It
- was indiscreet of you, Mr. Lock, to pay ten thousand pounds for that
- document. It is quite useless to you.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I fear you cannot be aware what is in it,’ said Simon Lock. ‘It is
- indisputable evidence that during many years past you have been in the
- habit of coining large quantities of silver money.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What of that?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It means penal servitude for you, Mr. Craig, if I give it up to the
- police. But I trust you will not compel me to such an extreme course.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How can I persuade you to have mercy on me?’ laughed Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- The other evidently did not appreciate the full extent of the old man’s
- sarcasm.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It will not be difficult,’ said Simon Lock, ‘provided you are reasonable.
- I will tell you without any circumlocution what my terms are.’ Simon was
- feeling firm ground under feet at last, as he thought. ‘What my terms
- are.’ He repeated the phrase, which seemed to give him satisfaction. ‘You
- must instruct your agents to agree to a cancellation of the contracts to
- sell La Princesse shares. They must let go.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘As those contracts stand, Mr. Lock, how much do you reckon you would lose
- on them?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I cannot say,’ said Lock stiffly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will tell you,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘You would lose something between
- two and a half and three millions of money. What you ask is that I should
- make you a present of this trifling sum.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘In return I will give you Featherstone’s document.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nothing else? Nothing in solid cash?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock reflected.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I will give you a hundred thousand in cash.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Make it a quarter of a million,’ Raphael Craig affected to plead.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will make it a quarter of a million,’ said Simon Lock, ‘though I am
- condoning a felony. I will give you the document and a quarter of a
- million in exchange for a cancellation of all the La Princesse contracts.
- That is a clear and business-like offer.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is,’ said Craig. ‘And I refuse it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You want more? I decline to give it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I don’t want more. If you offered me ten millions I wouldn’t accept it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You prefer to go to prison? You prefer that I should give the document to
- the police?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I care not,’ said Craig. ‘I shall be perfectly content to end my days in
- prison. I have ruined you, Simon Lock.’ He jumped up, and almost shouted,
- ‘I have ruined you, Simon Lock, and I can die happy—whether in
- prison or out of it makes no matter. In four days hence the contracts must
- be fulfilled—you must deliver the shares, or you are a ruined man.
- And you cannot deliver the shares. I have seen to that. Let happen what
- may, the contracts are in safe hands. You will have noticed that my name
- does not appear on them, and you are ruined. You are ruined, Simon, you
- are ruined—unless I choose to be merciful.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He spoke the last words in low, deliberate tones, quite different from the
- rest of the speech, and this change evidently puzzled Simon Lock, who was
- now undecided whether still to maintain a peaceful attitude or to threaten
- and bluster.
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael Craig went on, looking at Richard: ‘These great financiers,
- Redgrave—you see they are not so great after all. The genius of
- Simon Lock in juggling with other people’s money is supposed to be
- transcendent, yet how easily I have juggled with his! It is not more than
- three months ago that I first saw my opportunity of working on a big
- scale. I obtained information about the probable tactics of the people in
- charge of Princesse shares, and I took my measures accordingly. By the
- way, it is surprising the number of people in the City who were delighted
- to assist me in ruining Simon Lock. The most staid persons seemed to take
- a fiendish glee in it.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock smiled rather grimly, and Raphael Craig pursued his way:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I knew that the great Lock group were selling Princesse shares for the
- fall. It was very silly of them, though, to sell more than they could
- deliver, especially as there doesn’t happen to have been a fall.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I am sure,’ said Simon Lock, ‘that you won’t mind telling me who
- disclosed the nature of our operations in the matter of the Princesse
- shares.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘With the greatest pleasure in the world,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘It was one
- of your own intimate gang—your private secretary, Oakley. I bought
- him, body and soul, for a thousand pounds.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And he sold you to me for ten thousand,’ murmured Simon Lock, half to
- himself. ‘I am well rid of him. And now’—he turned to Craig, and put
- some firmness into his voice—do, please, come to some arrangement.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Arrangement!’ exclaimed Raphael. ‘A good joke! Certainly we will come to
- some arrangement. But first I must tell Redgrave, who has the right to
- know, the history of the girl he is about to marry. I will tell him in
- your presence, and when I make any error of fact you can correct me. Many
- years ago, Richard, I was engaged to a beautiful girl, a native of
- Limerick. She was an orphan, and had lived with friends until she became a
- school-teacher, when she lived by herself. She had some aristocratic
- Spanish blood in her veins through her mother’s father, who had married
- her grand-mother in Buenos Ayres. I met her in Limerick when I was a clerk
- in the bank there. I fell in love with her. I asked her to be my wife, and
- she consented. We were to be married as soon as my salary had sufficiently
- increased. I then had an offer of a situation in the British and Scottish,
- just starting on its successful career, and I removed to London. We
- arranged that I should save every possible penny, and that we should get
- married in about two years’ time. It was from motives of economy that I
- allowed a whole year to pass without revisiting Limerick. I continually
- received letters from my fiancee, and though their tone was never
- excessively warm, it was always tender, and it satisfied me. As for me, I
- was passionately in love. I had never seen such an adorable creature as my
- betrothed—her name was Juana—and I have never since seen her
- equal. For me she was, and always will be, the world’s jewel.... Well, a
- change came over the scene. I noticed something in her letters—something
- which I could not define. Then, after an interval of silence, came a
- letter saying she could not marry me. I got leave of absence—not
- without a great deal of difficulty—and hastened over to Limerick.
- Juana had left Limerick. I found her at length in a remote mountain
- village, and I drew from her her story. It was a shocking one. A man—a
- stranger from London—who must have been a highly plausible person in
- those days, whatever he is now—had dazzled her by his professions of
- admiration and love. He was a rich man even then, and he made her a
- brilliant offer of marriage. The poor girl was carried off her feet.
- Unduly urged, and her mind poisoned by his lies concerning myself, her
- faith in me shaken by the stoppage for some weeks of my letters, she
- consented to marry this man. She married him. They lived together for a
- brief period. And all this time she had not courage to write and confess
- to me the truth. Then the man left her, and coolly informed her that the
- marriage was a bogus marriage from beginning to end—that he was, in
- fact, already married. He said he wished to have nothing more to do with
- her, and gave her a bank-note for a thousand pounds to solace her wounded
- feelings, which bank-note she flung into the fire. You may ask why this
- man was not prosecuted for bigamy. I will tell you. The matter was kept
- quiet in order to spare the feelings of my poor deluded Juana. Think what
- the trial would have meant to her. I myself arranged with the priest and
- one or two other officials that the whole thing should be buried in
- oblivion. I had reserved my own punishment for the villain who thus
- escaped the law. To proceed, Juana had two children—twins. They were
- named Juana and Teresa. Shortly after their birth their mother died. But
- before she died—on her death-bed—I married her. I had begged
- to do so before, but she had declined. I swore to her that I would regard
- Juana and Teresa as my own children, but of my intended vengeance against
- her murderer I said nothing. Hers was a gentle heart, and she might have
- put me on my oath to abandon that vengeance. From the day of her death I
- lived for nothing save the punishment of a villain. It was my one thought.
- I subordinated everything to it. It made my temper uncertain; it involved
- me in endless difficulties; it estranged me from my dear one’s elder
- daughter, and often I felt that I was harsh to Teresa, my favourite and
- the last-born. But I could not do otherwise. I was a monomaniac. I dreamt
- only of the moment when I should see my enemy at my feet, begging for
- mercy. That moment has come. He is here. Watch him. He could only be
- wounded in one place—his pocket. His pocket is the heel of this
- noble Achilles, and it is his pocket that my sword has pierced.’
- </p>
- <p>
- With outstretched finger Raphael Craig pointed with passionate scorn at
- the figure of Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Beg for my mercy,’ Craig commanded.,
- </p>
- <p>
- And to Richard’s amazement Simon Lock answered:
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I entreat your mercy, Craig.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That is well. I am satisfied,’ said Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They say that revenge turns to ashes in the mouth. I don’t think it
- does.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig,’ said Lock suavely to Richard, ‘has given a highly-coloured
- account of a somewhat ordinary affair. But to appease him I do certainly
- ask his mercy. I do admit that he has the upper hand.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And I will see you eternally damned, Simon Lock,’ said Raphael Craig,
- ‘before I grant you an ounce of mercy! There is no mercy for such as you,
- who are never merciful yourselves. I only wanted to hear you beg, that was
- all. I hadn’t the slightest intention of letting you off.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock got up.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is as well,’ he said, ‘that this farce should end. In asking your
- mercy I was only using a form of words in order to pacify you. I
- recognised that you were suffering, as you yourself have admitted, from a
- sort of mania, and I took what I thought was the easiest course with you.
- As to the past, we will not go into that. Your version of it is
- ridiculously overstated. I shall now leave. In twenty-four hours you will
- be in prison. You say that the fact of your being in prison will not
- affect the Princesse contracts. I think it will. I think that when I
- inform the Stock Exchange Committee that the real mover of those contracts
- is awaiting his trial as a coiner, the Committee will do something
- drastic. I might have told you this before, but I wished, if possible, to
- arrive at an amicable settlement. In offering you two hundred and fifty
- thousand pounds I fancy I was meeting you more than half-way. Good-day,
- Mr. Craig; good-day, Mr. Redgrave. And, Mr. Redgrave, have a care how you
- mix yourself up with this Craig, and, above all, do not take for gospel
- everything that he says as to my past history.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock made his exit from the room with immense dignity.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He is bluffing,’ said Raphael Craig. ‘He is at the end of his tether, and
- he knows it; but he has bluffed it out very well. The old man smiled
- happily. ‘You are still prepared to marry Teresa?’ he asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard took Mr. Craig’s hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> </a>
- </p>
- <div style="height: 4em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
- <h2>
- CHAPTER XVII—THE CLOSE
- </h2>
- <p class="pfirst">
- <span class="dropcap" style="font-size: 4.00em">W</span>ould our mother
- have wished it?
- </p>
- <p>
- These words, uttered in a tone of grave, sad questioning, were followed by
- a hush among the group which sat under the trees in the orchard that same
- afternoon. The two mares belonging to Mr. Craig, and Juana’s strawberry
- roan, were feeding close by, the summer flies their sole trouble. The
- group consisted of Raphael Craig, the two girls who, as he had said, were
- his daughters by right of all he had done for them, and Richard. Old Craig
- had, without any reservation, told Juana and Teresa the history of their
- mother, and the history of his vengeance on the man who had so cruelly
- wronged their mother. He explained to them, with a satisfaction which he
- took no trouble to hide, how Simon Lock, after a career of splendour, was
- now inevitably doomed to ruin. He told them how for twenty years he had
- lived solely for the achievement of that moment, and that, now it had
- come, he was content.
- </p>
- <p>
- But Juana had said, ‘Would our mother have wished it?’ And her phrase
- reminded Richard of the old man’s phrase to Simon Lock in the morning—‘Hers
- was a gentle heart.’ The sisters looked at each other, unquiet,
- irresolute.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘This Simon Lock is our real father, then?’ said Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Have I not just told you so?’ said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Let him off, father,’ Juana murmured; and Teresa’s eyes, though she said
- nothing, supported her sister.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why?’ asked Raphael Craig.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Surely you despise him too much to notice him. Is not the best punishment
- for him his own conscience and your silent contempt?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No,’ cried the old man, suddenly starting up. ‘No, I will never let him
- go free! After all these years of labour and sleepless watching, shall I
- take my hands! off his throat now? You don’t know what you ask, Juana. But
- you were always against me, Juana, ever since you were a little child—you
- who bear your mother’s name, too!’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Nay, father,’ said Juana; ‘I admire your defence of my mother. I love you
- for it. I think you are the noblest man alive. But you will be nobler if
- you let this man go free. He is beneath your notice.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Never!’ repeated the old man, and walked quickly out of the orchard.
- </p>
- <p>
- The three young people, left together, scarcely knew what to say to each
- other. The girls were, very naturally, excited and perturbed by the
- recital to which they had just listened. As for Richard, he was still in a
- state of suspense, of apprehension, almost of fear. To him the very
- atmosphere of Queen’s Farm seemed to be charged with the messages of fate.
- Raphael Craig’s profound self-satisfaction struck Richard as quite
- child-like. Did this man, so experienced in the world, really think that
- Simon Lock would quietly allow himself to be ruined? Did he really think
- that the struggle was over? And if, on the other hand, he thought that
- Simon Lock would procure his arrest, was he actually prepared to go to
- prison, and to die there? Richard pictured Simon Lock as planning all
- sorts of deep-laid schemes against Raphael Craig. He felt that Simon Lock
- would never be ‘at the end of his tether,’ as the old man had termed it,
- until Simon Lock was dead. He felt just a little bit for Simon Lock on
- account of the humiliations which that proud personage had been made to
- suffer that morning, and he felt so, despite his detestation of Lock’s
- past career and of his general methods. He found it impossible to get very
- angry about a sin committed twenty years ago.
- </p>
- <p>
- That night Nolan, the detective, though better than on the previous day,
- was suffering from a slight temporary relapse. Richard volunteered to sit
- up with him, as the man could only sleep at intervals. Both Bridget and
- Juana were exhausted with the nursing, and Juana would not hear of Teresa
- sitting up. So it came about that Richard insisted on performing the duty
- himself.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was a warm summer night, rather too warm for comfort, and for a little
- space the two men talked on miscellaneous subjects. Then Nolan asked for
- something to drink, and having drunk, went off into a sound sleep. So far
- as Richard could see, the patient was better again. Richard occupied an
- easy-chair by the window. There was twilight all through the night. For a
- long time Richard gazed idly out of the window into the western arch of
- the sky. As hour after hour passed the temperature grew chilly. He closed
- the window. Nolan still slept peacefully. Richard drew down the blind, and
- said to himself that he would have a doze in the easy-chair.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next thing of which he was conscious was a knocking at the door.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, yes,’ he answered sleepily, and Mrs. Bridget burst in.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Redgrave!’ she cried, ‘an’ have ye heard nothing? Surely the ould
- master’s not in his bed, and something’s happened. May the Virgin protect
- us all this night?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard saw wild terror in the woman’s eyes. He sprang up. He was fully
- and acutely awake, but the sick man slept on. He went quietly and quickly
- out of the room. Juana and Teresa stood in the passage, alarmed and
- dishevelled.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He is gone!’ Teresa exclaimed. ‘I wonder you heard nothing, as his was
- the next room. It was Bridget who heard a sort of shout, she says,
- outside, and then looked out of her window, and she thinks she heard a
- motorcar.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Which way was it going?’ asked Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Sure and it’s meself that can’t tell ye, sir,’ said Mrs. Bridget.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard reflected a moment.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why has he gone off like this in the night?’ questioned Juana.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Suppose that he has been captured—abducted—what then?’ said
- Richard. ‘Teresa,’ he added, ‘put your things on. You and I will go after
- him. Juana and Bridget must see to the nursing. Let there be no delay.’
- </p>
- <p>
- His words were authoritative, and both girls departed. Richard proceeded
- to examine the bedroom of the vanished Raphael Craig. It was in a state of
- wild confusion. The bed had not been slept in; the bed was, indeed, almost
- the sole undisturbed article in the room. A writing bureau stood in the
- corner between the window and the fireplace, and apparently Mr. Craig had
- been sitting at this. The ink-bottle was overturned, the rows of small
- drawers had all been forced open, and papers, blown by the wind from the
- open window, were scattered round the room. The window was wide open from
- the bottom, and on the sill Richard noticed a minute streak of blood,
- quite wet. The wall-paper beneath the window was damaged, as though by
- feet. The window-curtains were torn. Richard judged that Raphael Craig
- must have been surprised while writing, gagged, and removed forcibly from
- the room by the window. He turned again within the room, but he observed
- nothing further of interest except that the drawers and cupboards of a
- large mahogany wardrobe had been forced, and their contents flung on the
- floor.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard went downstairs and out of the house by the front-door. He
- travelled round the house by the garden-path, till he came under the
- window of Raphael’s bedroom, and there he found the soil trodden down and
- some flowers broken off their stalks; but there were no traces of
- footsteps on the hard gravelled path. He returned to the house.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig has certainly been carried off,’ he said to Teresa, who was
- just coming down the stairs, candle in hand.
- </p>
- <p>
- She wore over her dress a coat, and a small hat was on her head.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Carried off!’ she exclaimed, and the candle shook. ‘By whom?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Need we ask? Your father thought he had done with Simon Lock, but Simon
- Lock is not so easily done with.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But what can Simon Lock do with father?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Anything that a villain dares,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come along; don’t wait. We will take one of the motor-cars and follow.’
- </p>
- <p>
- They ran forth from the house to the sheds. The Décauville car stood in
- the first shed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Is it ready for action, do you know?’ asked Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Perfectly. I had it out the day before yesterday.’
- </p>
- <p>
- But when they came to start it they discovered that the pipe which led the
- petrol to the cylinder had been neatly severed. It was the simplest
- operation, but quite effective to disable the car. Nothing could be done
- without a new pipe.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Where is the electric car?’ Richard demanded, almost gruffly. ‘They may
- have missed that.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I don’t know. It ought to be here,’ Teresa replied.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They have taken him off in his own car,’ was Richard’s comment ‘We can do
- nothing.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The horses,’ said Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No horses that were ever bred could overtake that car, or even keep up
- with it for a couple of miles.’
- </p>
- <p>
- They walked back to the house, and met Bridget.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Is it the illictric car ye’re wanting?’ she asked, with the intuition of
- an Irishwoman.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It’s in the far shed.’
- </p>
- <p>
- With one accord Richard and Teresa ran back to the far end of the range of
- buildings. There stood the car, in what had once been the famous silver
- shed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I saw the master put it there this very morning as ever is,’ said Mrs.
- Bridget, who had followed them, as Richard jumped on to the driving-seat.
- </p>
- <p>
- In two minutes they were off, sped by the whispered blessing of Mrs.
- Bridget. At the end of the boreen Richard stopped the car.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Which way?’ he murmured, half to himself and half to Teresa, as if
- seeking inspiration.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘To London or to the North?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘To London, of course,’ said Teresa promptly.
- </p>
- <p>
- He hesitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I wonder——’ he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What is that?’ Teresa asked sharply, pointing to something which glinted
- on the road. She sprang down and picked it up. ‘Father’s spectacles,’ she
- said—‘cracked.’ The spectacles had lain about a yard south of the
- boreen; they therefore pointed to London. ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ said
- Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard shot the car forward in silence.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Do you think dad threw out these specs, to guide us?’ questioned Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Perhaps,’ answered Richard absently.
- </p>
- <p>
- In this mysterious nocturnal disappearance of Raphael Craig he saw the
- hand of the real Simon Lock. During the whole of that strange interview
- which had taken place in the morning it had seemed to Richard that Simon
- Lock had been acting a part—had, at any rate, not conducted himself
- with that overbearing and arrogant masterfulness and unscrupulousness for
- which he had a reputation. Richard decided in his own mind that Simon Lock
- had arranged for this abduction, in case of necessity, before his visit to
- Raphael Craig. It was more than possible that he might have urged his
- visit chiefly as a visit of observation, to enable him to complete his
- plans for exercising force to compel Raphael Craig to agree to his wishes.
- With painful clearness Richard now perceived that Simon Lock was, in fact,
- fighting for all that he held most dear—perhaps for his very life
- and liberty, in addition to the whole of his fortune, for Richard knew
- that when these colossal financiers do happen to topple over into ruin the
- subsequent investigation of their affairs often leads to criminal
- prosecution, a process disagreeable to the financier, but pleasant enough
- to the public. A man such as Simon Lock had, therefore, a double, or, at
- least, a highly intensified, motive in avoiding financial failure. Yes,
- thought Richard, Simon Lock would stop at nothing to compel Raphael Craig
- to give way. His mind wandered curiously to tales of the Spanish
- Inquisition, and to the great torture scene in Balzac’s ‘Catherine de
- Medici.’ He involuntarily shuddered, and then with an effort he drew his
- mind back again to the management of the car. This vehicle, new and in
- beautiful order, and charged for a journey of a hundred and twenty miles,
- travelled in the most unexceptionable manner. The two and a half miles to
- the North-Western station at Dunstable were traversed in precisely five
- minutes, in spite of the fact that the distance included a full mile of
- climbing.
- </p>
- <p>
- The electric lights flashed along the deserted main streets of ancient
- Dunstable, which is only a little more sleepy at night than in the
- daytime. As they passed the Old Sugar-Loaf Inn a man jumped out of the
- stable archway and hailed them frantically. His voice echoed strangely in
- the wide thoroughfare.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What is it?’ demanded Richard, unwillingly drawing up.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You after a motor-car?’ the man inquired. He looked like an ostler.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Mr. Craig?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes,’ said Richard.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They stopped here,’ said the man, ‘and they told me to tell you if you
- came by that they’d gone to Luton, and was a-going on to Hitchin.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘They! Who?’ asked Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘The gents in the car.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Who was in the car?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Four gents.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How long since?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘About half an hour, or hardly.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And was it Mr. Craig who told you they’d gone to Luton and Hitchin?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How do I know his blooming name as told me?’ exclaimed the man. ‘They
- gave me a shilling to stop here and tell ye, and I’ve told ye, and so
- good-night.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Thanks,’ said Richard, and he started the car. In another moment they
- were at the crossing of the two great Roman high-roads, Watling Street and
- the Icknield Way. The route to Luton and Hitchin lay to the left; the
- route to London was straight ahead.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Now, was that a fake of Lock’s, or are we all wrong about Lock? and has
- your father got still another mystery up his sleeve?’
- </p>
- <p>
- He gazed intently at the macadam, but the hard road showed no traces of
- wheels anywhere, not even their own.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘We will go straight ahead,’ said Teresa earnestly.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard obeyed her instinct and his. Everything pointed to the probability
- that Simon Lock, anticipating pursuit, had laid a trap at the Old
- Sugar-Loaf to divert such pursuit. Then Raphael Craig must surely have
- been drugged, or he would have protested to the ostler.
- </p>
- <p>
- Before they had got quite clear of the last houses of Dunstable they
- picked up Mr. Craig’s gold watch, which lay battered in their track. If
- Craig had been drugged he must have quickly recovered! Teresa was now
- extremely excited, anxious, and nervous. Previously she had talked, but
- she fell into silence, and there was no sound save the monotonous, rather
- high-pitched drone of the motor-car. They passed through Markyate, four
- miles, and through Redbourne, another four miles, in quick succession. The
- road lies absolutely straight, and the gradients are few and easy.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Surely,’ said Teresa at length, ‘if they are on this road we should soon
- overtake them at this speed?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Fifty miles an hour,’ he said.
- </p>
- <p>
- They were descending the last part of the hill half-way down which lies
- Redbourne. It was a terrible, perilous speed for night travelling, but
- happily the night was far from being quite dark. Though there was no moon,
- there were innumerable multitudes of stars, and the dusty road showed
- white and clear.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Some cars can do up to seventy an hour. And if Simon Lock got a car he
- would be certain to get the best.’
- </p>
- <p>
- As he spoke they both simultaneously descried a moving light at the bottom
- of the hill. In a few seconds the car was within a hundred yards of the
- light, and they could see the forms of men moving and hear voices.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It is the other car broken down,’ exclaimed Teresa. ‘Put out our lights,
- quick!’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard realized in a flash that he ought to have taken that simple
- precaution before, and to have approached with every circumspection. The
- men in front had perceived the second car, and Richard’s extinction of his
- lights came too late. He heard a sharp word of command, and then three men
- left the disabled car and ran in a body to the other one. Their forms were
- distinctly visible.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Three to one!’ Richard said softly. ‘It looks like being a bit stiff.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘No! Three to two,’ Teresa corrected him. ‘Here! Take this.’ She handed
- him a revolver which she had carried under her coat. ‘I just thought of it
- as I was leaving the house, and took it out of the clock in the
- drawing-room.’
- </p>
- <p>
- His appreciation of her thoughtfulness was unspoken, but nevertheless
- sincere.
- </p>
- <p>
- The three men were within fifty yards.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Slip off behind and into the hedge,’ he ordered. ‘We shall do better from
- that shelter if there is to be a row.’
- </p>
- <p>
- She obeyed, and they cowered under the hedge side by side.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Get further away from me,’ he said imperatively. ‘You may be in danger
- just here.’
- </p>
- <p>
- But she would not move.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Whose car is this?’ cried a voice out of the gloom—a rough,
- bullying voice that Richard did not recognise.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Never mind whose car it is!’ Richard sang out. ‘Keep away from it. That’s
- my advice to you, whoever you are. I can see you perfectly well, and I
- will shoot the first man that advances another step.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why?’ returned the same voice. ‘What’s all this bluster for? We only want
- a bit of indiarubber for a ripped tyre.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It doesn’t take three of you to fetch a bit of indiarubber. Let two of
- you get back, and then I’ll talk to the third.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Get on, my lads,’ another voice cried, and this time Richard knew the
- voice.
- </p>
- <p>
- It was Simon Lock’s; the financier was covered with a long overcoat; he
- was the rearmost of the three.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard, without the least hesitation, aimed at Simon’s legs and fired. He
- missed. At the same instant the middle figure of the three flung some
- object sharply towards the hedge in the direction whence the revolver-shot
- had proceeded, and Richard felt a smashing blow on the head, after which
- he felt nothing else whatever. He had vague visions, and then there was a
- blank, an absolute and complete blank.
- </p>
- <p>
- The next thing of which he was conscious was a sense of moisture on his
- head. He opened his eyes and saw in the sky the earliest inkling of dawn.
- He also saw Teresa bending over him with a handkerchief.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You are better,’ she said to him softly.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You’ll soon be all right.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard shook his head feebly, as he felt a lump over his eye. He had a
- dizzy sensation.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, you will,’ Teresa insisted. ‘It was very unfortunate, your being hit
- with that stone. You gave an awful groan, and those men thought you were
- dead; they certainly thought you were alone. I would have shot them, every
- one, but you dropped the revolver in the grass by this bit of a gutter
- here, and I couldn’t find it till they’d gone. D’you know, they’ve gone
- off with our car? There was a man among them who seemed to understand it
- perfectly. I’m awfully glad now I didn’t show myself, because I couldn’t
- have done anything, and I can do something now. Oh, Dick! I saw them pull
- father out of their car—it’s a big Panhard—and put him into
- ours. He was all tied with ropes. It will be a heavy load for that little
- car, and they can’t go so very fast. We must mend their car, Dick, and go
- on as quickly as possible.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Can we mend it?’ Richard asked, amazed at this coolness, courage, and
- enterprise.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, of course. Look, you can see from here; it’s only a puncture.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘But didn’t one of them say they’d got no indiarubber?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Teresa laughed.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You aren’t yourself yet,’ she said. ‘You’re only a goose yet. That was
- only an excuse for attacking us.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard got up, and speedily discovered that he could walk. They proceeded
- to the abandoned car. It was a 40 h.-p. concern, fully equipped and
- stored. The travellers by it had already begun to mend their puncture when
- the pursuing car surprised them. They had evidently judged it easier to
- change cars than to finish the mending. Speed was their sole object, and
- in the carrying out of the schemes of a man like Simon Lock a 40 h.-p.
- Panhard left by the roadside was a trifle.
- </p>
- <p>
- In twenty minutes the puncture was successfully mended, both Richard and
- Teresa being experts at the operation. The effect of the blow on Richard’s
- head had by this time quite passed away, save for a bruise.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘And now for Manchester Square,’ said Teresa, as they moved off.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why Manchester Square?’ Richard asked.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘That is where they were going; I heard them talking.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘It will be Simon Lock’s house,’ said Richard. ‘I must go there alone.’
- </p>
- <p>
- From Redbourne to London, with a clear road and a 40 h.-p. Panhard beneath
- you, is not a far cry. In a shade under the hour the motor-car was running
- down Edgware Road to the Marble Arch. Richard kept straight on to Adelphi
- Terrace, put up the car at a stable-yard close by without leave, and,
- having aroused his landlady, gave Teresa into her charge until
- breakfast-time. It was just turned four o’clock, and a beautiful morning.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘What are you going to do?’ asked Teresa.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I don’t exactly know. I’ll take a cab and the revolver to Manchester
- Square, and see what happens. You can rely upon me to take care of
- myself.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He could see that she wished to accompany him, and without more words he
- vanished. In ten minutes, having discovered a cab, he was in the vast
- silence of Manchester Square. He stopped the cab at the corner, and walked
- to Simon Lock’s house, whose number he knew. A policeman stood at the
- other side of the square, evidently curious as to the strange proceedings
- within the well-known residence of the financier. The double outer doors
- were slightly ajar. Richard walked nonchalantly up the broad marble steps
- and pushed these doors open and went in. A second pair of doors, glazed,
- now fronted him. Behind these stood a man in evening dress, but whether or
- not he was a servant Richard could not determine.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Open,’ said Richard. The man seemed not to hear him.
- </p>
- <p>
- He lifted up the revolver. The man perceived it, and opened the doors.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Where is Mr. Lock?’ Richard demanded in a firm, cold voice. ‘I am a
- detective. I don’t want you to come with me. Stay where you are. Simply
- tell me where he is.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The man hesitated.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Quick,’ said Richard, fingering the revolver..
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘He was in the library, sir,’ the man faltered.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Anyone with him?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Yes, sir; some gentlemen.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘How long have they been here?’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not long. They came unexpected, sir.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well, see that you don’t mix yourself up in anything that may occur.
- Which is the library door?’
- </p>
- <p>
- The man pointed to a mahogany door at the end of the long, lofty hall.
- Richard opened it, and found himself, not in a library, but in a small
- rectangular windowless apartment, clearly intended for the reception of
- hats and coats. Suspecting a ruse, he stepped quickly into the hall.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not that door, the next one,’ said the man, quietly enough. Richard
- followed the man’s instructions, and very silently opened the next door. A
- large room disclosed itself, with a long table down the centre of it. The
- place did not bear much resemblance to a library. It was, in fact, the
- breakfast-room, and the library lay beyond it. At the furthest corner,
- opposite another door, a man was seated on a chair. His eyes seemed to be
- glued on to the door which he watched.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come along, Terrell,’ this man whispered, without moving his head, as
- Richard entered.
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard accordingly came along, and was upon the man in the chair before
- the latter had perceived that another than Terrell—whoever Terrell
- might be—had thrust himself into the plot.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Silence!’ said Richard; ‘I am a detective. Come out.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The revolver and Richard’s unflinching eye did the rest. Richard led the
- astonished and unresisting man into the hall, and then locked him up in
- the hat and coat room, and put the key of the door in his pocket. He
- returned to the other room, locked its door on the inside, so as to
- preclude the approach of the expected Terrell, and took the empty chair in
- front of the far door. He guessed that Simon Lock, and perhaps Raphael
- Craig, were on the other side of that door.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Up to now,’ he reflected, ‘it’s been fairly simple.’
- </p>
- <p>
- There was absolute silence. It was as though the great house had hushed
- itself in anticipation of a great climax.
- </p>
- <p>
- Then Richard heard a voice in the room beyond. It was Simon Lock’s voice.
- Richard instantly tried the door, turning the handle very softly and
- slowly. It was latched, but not locked. Using infinite precautions, he
- contrived to leave the door open about half an inch. Through this
- half-inch of space he peered into the library. He saw part of a large
- square desk and an armchair. In this armchair sat Raphael Craig, and
- Raphael Craig was tied firmly to the chair with ropes. He could not see
- Simon Lock, and he dared not yet push the door further open.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Now, Craig,’ the voice of Simon Lock was saying, ‘don’t drive me to
- extreme measures.’
- </p>
- <p>
- For answer Raphael Craig closed his eyes, as if bored. His face had a
- disgusted, haughty expression.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You’ve got no chance,’ said Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Redgrave is caught, and won’t be let loose in a hurry. These two girls of
- yours are also in safe hands. Nothing has been omitted. I have here a list
- of the firms who have been acting for you in the Princesse shares. I have
- also written out certain instructions to them which you will sign. I have
- also prepared a power of attorney, authorizing me to act in your name in
- the matter of these shares. You will sign these documents. I will have
- them sent to the City and put into operation this morning, and as soon as
- I have satisfied myself that all has been done that might be done you will
- be set free—perhaps in a couple of days.’
- </p>
- <p>
- Richard saw that Raphael Craig made no sign of any sort.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon Lock continued: ‘You did not expect that I should proceed to extreme
- measures of this kind. You thought that the law of England would be
- sufficient to protect you from physical compulsion. You thought I should
- never dare. How foolish of you! As if I should permit myself to be ruined
- by an old man with a bee in his bonnet; an old man whose desire is not to
- make money—I could have excused that—but to work a
- melodramatic revenge. If you want melodrama you shall have it, Craig, and
- more of it than you think for.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Why don’t you give me up to the police?’ said Raphael Craig, opening his
- eyes and yawning. ‘You’ve got Featherstone’s confession, as you call it.
- Surely that would be simpler than all this rigmarole.’
- </p>
- <p>
- The manager’s voice was pregnant with sarcasm.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘I will tell you,’ said Lock frankly; ‘there is no reason why I should
- not: I have lost the confounded thing, or it has been stolen.’ He laughed
- harshly. ‘However, that’s no matter. I can dispense with that—now.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘You can’t do anything,’ returned Craig. ‘You’ve got me here—you and
- your gang between you. But you can’t do anything. In three days your ruin
- will be complete.’
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Not do anything!’ said Simon Lock; ‘there are ways and means of
- compulsion. There are worse things than death, Craig. You decline to
- sign?’
- </p>
- <p>
- Raphael closed his eyes again, coldly smiling.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Terrell,’ called Simon Lock sharply, ‘bring the——’
- </p>
- <p>
- But what horrible, unmentionable things Terrell was to bring in will never
- be known, for at that instant Richard rushed madly into the room. He saw a
- revolver lying on the desk in front of Simon Lock. He frantically snatched
- it up, and stood fronting Simon Lock.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Well done, Redgrave!’ said the old man.
- </p>
- <p>
- Simon’s face went like white paper.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘So “Redgrave is caught,” is he?’ said Richard to Lock. Without taking his
- eye off the financier, he stepped backwards and secured the door. ‘Now,
- Mr. Lock, we are together once more, we three. Don’t utter a word, but go
- and cut those ropes from Mr. Craig’s arms. Go, I say.’ Richard had a
- revolver in each hand. He put one down, and took a penknife from his
- pocket. ‘Stay; here is a knife,’ he added. ‘Now cut.’
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br /><a name="linkimage-0009" id="linkimage-0009"> </a>
- </p>
- <div class="fig" style="width:50%;">
- <img src="images/0322.jpg" alt="0322 " width="100%" /><br />
- </div>
- <h5>
- <a href="images/0322.jpg"><img src="images/enlarge.jpg" alt="" /> </a>
- </h5>
- <p>
- As Simon Lock moved to obey the revolver followed his head at a distance
- of about three inches. Never in his life had Richard been so happy. In a
- minute Raphael Craig was free.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Take his place,’ Richard commanded.
- </p>
- <p>
- In another two minutes Simon Lock was bound as Raphael Craig had been.
- </p>
- <p>
- ‘Come with me, dear old man. We will leave him. Mr. Lock, your motor-car
- is in a stable-yard off Adelphi Street. You can have it in exchange for
- the car which you stole from me a few hours ago.’
- </p>
- <p>
- He took Raphael Craig’s arm, and the old man suffered himself to be led
- out like a child.
- </p>
- <p>
- Within a quarter of an hour father and adopted daughter were in each
- other’s arms at Adelphi Terrace. The drama was over.
- </p>
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <hr />
- <p>
- <br /><br />
- </p>
- <p>
- Two days later the evening papers had a brilliantly successful afternoon,
- for their contents bills bore the legend: ‘Suicide of Simon Lock.’ It was
- a great event for London. Simon Lock’s estate was found to be in an
- extremely involved condition, but it realized over a million pounds, which
- was just about a tenth of what the British public expected. The money, in
- the absence of a will, went to the heir-at-law, a cousin of the deceased,
- who was an army contractor, and already very rich. The name of this man
- and what he did with his million will be familiar to all readers. The
- heir-at-law never heard anything of the Princesse shares, for Raphael
- Craig, immediately on the death of his colossal enemy, destroyed the
- contracts, and made no claim whatever. This act cost him a hundred
- thousand pounds in loss of actual cash outlay, but he preferred to do it.
- Raphael Craig died peacefully six months later. Both the girls who had
- called him father were by that time married—Teresa to Richard and
- Juana to Nolan, the detective. It was indeed curious that, by the accident
- of fate, Raphael should have been saved from the consequences of the crime
- of uttering false coin by the spell exercised by those girls over two
- separate and distinct detectives. The two detectives—one
- professional, the other amateur—subsequently went into partnership,
- Nolan having retired from Scotland Yard. They practise their vocation
- under the name of ———— ————
- But you will have guessed that name, since they are the most famous firm
- in their own line in England at the present day.
- </p>
- <p>
- And Richard says to his wife: ‘I should never have saved him. Everything
- might have been different if your courage had not kindled mine that
- morning after I swooned by the roadside in Watling Street.’
- </p>
- <h3>
- THE END
- </h3>
- <div style="height: 6em;">
- <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />
- </div>
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-<pre>
-
-
-
-
-
-End of Project Gutenberg's Teresa of Watling Street, by Arnold Bennett
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