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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..a5b37ae --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #56230 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/56230) diff --git a/old/56230-8.txt b/old/56230-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index edfc0a3..0000000 --- a/old/56230-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10898 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amethyst Cross, by Fergus Hume - -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: The Amethyst Cross - -Author: Fergus Hume - -Release Date: December 23, 2017 [EBook #56230] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMETHYST CROSS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by La -Trobe University, Australia - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: http:// - arrow.latrobe.edu.au/store/3/4/6/3/1/public/B14644101.pdf - (La Trobe University, Australia) - - - - - -[Illustration: Front cover] - -THE AMETHYST CROSS - - - - - - -------------------------------------- -_BY THE -SAME AUTHOR_ -------------------------------------- - -THE MYSTERY -OF A SHADOW -------------------------------------- -CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD. - -LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK, TORONTO -AND MELBOURNE -------------------------------------- - - - - - - -[Frontispiece: "'Father!' she shrieked!" (_see page 194_.)] - - - - - - -THE -AMETHYST CROSS - - - -BY -FERGUS HUME - -AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," -"FLIES IN THE WEB," "THE PURPLE FERN," -"THE MYSTERY OF A SHADOW," ETC. - - - -WITH COLOURED FRONTISPIECE BY -C. DUDLEY TENNANT - - - - -CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED -LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK, TORONTO AND MELBOURNE -1908 - - - - - - -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER - -I. THE BEGINNING OF A MYSTERY -II. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS -III. ANOTHER MYSTERY -IV. A FAMILY HISTORY -V. MRS. WALKER'S OPINION -VI. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN -VII. AFTER MIDNIGHT -VIII. UNDER A CLOUD -IX. TWO GIRLS -X. THE _DEUS EX MACHINA_ -XI. THE SEAMY SIDE -XII. A COUNTERPLOT -XIII. MRS. WALKER'S VISIT -XIV. THE FAMILY LAWYER -XV. A STARTLING LETTER -XVI. RECOGNITION -XVII. DISGRACE -XVIII. LADY CHARVINGTON'S ACCUSATIONS -XIX. MR. HALE EXPLAINS -XX. JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS' MEETING -XXI. TWO INTERVIEWS -XXII. THE PLOT -XXIII. ONE PART OF THE TRUTH -XXIV. ANOTHER PART OF THE TRUTH -XXV. REVENGE -XXVI. THE END OF IT ALL - - - - - - -THE AMETHYST CROSS - - - - -CHAPTER I -THE BEGINNING OF A MYSTERY - - -THE blackbird knew. He had paired for the fifth time in as many years, -and esteemed himself wise in the matters, of love. Therefore, from the -budding chestnut wherein his nest was built, did he sympathetically -watch the bachelor and maid who sat below. They were lovers as he knew -very well, for only lovers could have gazed so persistently into one -another's eyes, and therein did they behold each other as each wished -to be. Which sentence is cryptic to those who are not lovers as these -were. - -They might have looked at the smoothly-flowing river, singing quietly -to itself not a stone-cast away, or round a tangled garden, delicately -beautiful with the young greenery of May, or up into the azure depths -of a sky, flecked with silvery clouds. But they preferred--wisely it -may be--to look into each other's eyes, to clasp hands and to remain -silent with that eloquent muteness, which is the speech of true love. -Oh! the blackbird knew the meaning of these things very thoroughly, -and chuckled with such glee that he finally broke into glorious song -concerning the new love, the true love, the old love, the bold love, -which comes evermore with the blossoms of spring. But these -inhabitants of Paradise did not require the bird to reveal the -obvious. Their hearts were also singing the song of the early year. - -"It can't last for ever," murmured the maid dreamily, "it is too -beautiful to last, since we are but mortal." - -"It shall last for ever; it must," corrected the bachelor, wise in -that wisdom of the gods, which comes to wooers, "for we love with our -souls, dearest, and these cannot die." - -She knew that he was right, for her heart told her so. Therefore did -they again look into one another's eyes and again become silent, while -the fluting blackbird explained more than mere human speech could -render. And he, perched on a swaying bough, was only too willing to -interpret. He knew: he was wise. And listening Nature heard -complacently. To such ends had she shaped her children; for such a -reason had she provided their Arcadia. - -As Arcadia, like Marlowe's hell, is not circumscribed, it chanced that -this especial one was by Thames-side, and those who dwelt therein were -up-to-date in looks and dress and manners. Only their feelings were -those of classic times, and as he told her the old, old story, which -is ever new, she listened with the instinctive knowledge that the tale -was wonderfully familiar. She had read it in his eyes, after the -manner of maids, long before he dared to speak. - -And this river Paradise was not wholly unworthy at so comely an Adam -and Eve, although limited in extent and untrimmed in looks. Lord -Beaconsfield declared that the most perfect garden is that cultivated -to excess by man and then handed over to the caprice of Nature. The -owner of this demesne apparently subscribed to this dictum, for the -garden, well-filled with expensive flowers and shrubs, had long since -relapsed into wildness. On either side of the narrow strip of land, -sloping gradually to the stream, extended low walls of mellow red -brick overgrown with dark-green ivy. The flowerbeds were luxuriant -with docks and nettles and charlock and divers weeds: the pathways -were untidy with lush grass, and the tiny lawn at the water's edge was -shaggy and untrimmed. A wooden landing-stage floated near shore at the -garden's foot, and to this was attached the young man's boat. At the -far end of this neglected domain could be seen a thatched cottage with -whitewashed walls and oblong lattices quaintly diamond-paned. So -rustic and pretty and old-world did it look that it might well have -been the fairy-dwelling of a nursery tale. And the lovers themselves -were young and handsome enough to deserve the care of the fairies. - -He was tall, slim, well-formed, and Saxon in his fairness. His curly -hair--so much of it as the barber's shears had spared--was golden in -the sunlight, as was his small moustache, and his eyes were bravely -blue, as a hero's should be. The white boating-flannels accentuated -the bronze of his skin, and revealed the easy strength of an athlete. -He looked what the girl took him to be--a splendid young lover of -romance. Yet he was but a City clerk of prosaic environment, and his -youth alone improved him into Don Juan o' Dreams. - -The girl resembled Hebe, maidenly, dainty, and infinitely charming; or -it might be Titania, since her appearance was almost too fragile for -the work-a-day world. With a milky skin; brown-haired and brown-eyed; -with a tempting mouth and a well-rounded chin, she looked worthy of -any man's wooing. She was sweet and twenty; he but five years older, -so both were ripe for love. And then the spring, joyous and fresh, had -much to do with the proposal just made. Her answer to his question had -been tunefully commented upon by the irrepressible blackbird, who -expressed no surprise when the echo of a kiss interrupted his song. - -"But my father will never agree, George," sighed the girl, after this -outward and visible sound of acceptance. - -"Dearest Lesbia"--he folded her manfully in his arms--"I don't -see why your father should object. I am not rich certainly, as a -stockbroker's clerk doesn't earn large wages. But for your dear sake -I shall work and work and work until I become a millionaire." - -Lesbia smiled at this large promise. "We may have to wait for years." - -"What does it matter so long as our hearts are true?" - -"They may grow sick with waiting," said Lesbia, sighing. Then she -proceeded to look on the practical side of their idyll, as the most -romantic of women will do at the most romantic of moments. "You earn -only two hundred a year, darling, and my father--so far as I know--can -give me nothing. He has his pension from Lord Charvington, and makes a -small income by his work in the City, but"--here came a depressing -pause. - -"What does Mr. Hale do in the City?" asked George abruptly. - -Lesbia opened her brown eyes. "I don't know, dear. He goes there two -or three times a week, and always seems to be busy. I have asked him -what his occupation is, but he only laughs, and declares that dry -business details would not interest me. I am sure no girl ever knew so -little of her father as I do. It's not fair." - -"Strange!" murmured the young man meditatively. "I never see Mr. Hale -in the City, and although I have asked several people, no one appears -to know the name. Of course, darling, the City is a big place, and -your father may do business in a quiet way. Still it is odd that no -one should know. I wish I did. I might help him." - -"In what way?" - -"Well, Lesbia, the wages I receive at Tait's office are small, -and--and--and"--here George flushed for no apparent reason--"and there -are other things to be considered. If I could only get something else -to do I should leave Tait's. Your father might be willing to let me -enter his office, you know, and then I could work up his business, -whatever it might be." - -The girl nodded. She was a matter-of-fact young woman. Since Hale's -income was limited she was compelled, as housekeeper, very often to -consider ways and means. "You might speak to my father." - -"And may I mention our engagement?" he supplemented. - -"No-o!" Lesbia looked doubtful. "I had better announce that. Father -has a temper, and if he grew angry, you might grow angry also." - -"Oh no." George was entirely in earnest when he said this. "I should -always remember that he was your father and that you love him." - -Lesbia again looked doubtful. "Do I love him?" she mused. - -"One is supposed to love one's father," suggested George. - -She stared at the river. "Yes! I suppose so. Honour your parents, and -so forth. I don't honour my father, though--his temper is too bad. I -am not quite sure if I love him." - -"Oh, my dear." George looked nervous. - -"Don't make any mistake, dear boy. I like my father, since we are good -friends, and usually he is kind--that is, when he is not in a rage. -But then, you see, sweetest," she sighed, "he is nearly always in a -rage about some trifle. Look at the garden," she waved her hand -vaguely, "I wanted to hire a gardener to make it look more -respectable, and father was furious. He declared that he did not want -people to come spying round the cottage. Spying! Such an odd word to -use." - -"Your father is an odd man," said George ruefully, "and he certainly -has not been over-hospitable to me. Perhaps he guesses that I have -come to steal his jewel, and one can't be hospitable to a robber." - -Lesbia pinched his chin. "You silly boy, my father doesn't think so -much of me as you do. I sometimes wonder," she went on sadly, "if he -loves me at all. I am very much alone." - -"He doesn't treat you badly?" demanded George with sudden heat. - -"No, dear, no. I shouldn't allow anyone to treat me badly, not even my -father. But I fancy he regards me as a necessary trouble, for -sometimes he looks at me in a disagreeable way as though he fancied I -was spying." - -"Why do you use so disagreeable a word?" asked the straightforward -clerk. - -"My father used it himself in the first instance," she rejoined -promptly; "perhaps because he doesn't want anyone else to meet the -queer people who come to see him,--generally after dark. Men who smell -of drink, who use slang and dress like grooms,--certainly not -gentlemen. Of course I never talk to them, for when they appear, my -father always sends me to my room. I'm sure," sighed the girl -dolefully, "that if it wasn't for old Tim, the servant, I should be -quite alone." - -George hugged her. "You shall never be alone again!" he whispered, and -Lesbia threw her arms round his neck with great contentment. - -"Oh, darling, you don't know how good that sounds to me. If it were -only true. You see, my father may object." - -"He can object until he is tired," cried the ardent lover. "If he does -not make you happy I must. And when he sees this----" - -"Oh!" Lesbia clasped her hand in delight at the sight of a cheap -turquoise ring, "how lovely!" - -George frowned at the mean gift. "It was all I could afford," said he. - -"It is all I want," she said, as he slipped it on her engagement -finger, "it's not the cost, or even the thing. It's what it means. -Love and joy to you and me, dearest boy." - -But George, having a generous heart, still lamented. "If I hadn't to -keep my mother," he said ruefully. "I would save up and give you -diamonds. But two hundred a year goes a very little way with my -mother, even when her own small income is added. You see, dear, she -never forgets that my father was the Honourable Aylmer Walker, and she -will insist upon having everything of the best. This is a beastly -cheap ring, but--but----" - -"But you denied yourself all manner of nice things to buy it for ME," -finished Lesbia, pressing a kiss on his willing cheek. - -"No, dear, no," he said valiantly, "only a few pipes of tobacco." - -"You dearest donkey," cooed the girl, more touched than she chose to -confess, "doesn't that show me how you love me. As to the ring," she -surveyed the cheap trinket critically, "it is exactly what I wanted. -The stones are the colour of your dear eyes." - -George, man-like, was delighted. "You know the colour of my eyes?" - -Lesbia boxed his ears delicately. "I knew the colour exactly one -minute after our very first meeting." - -"Did you love me then?" - -"No. Certainly not: how conceited you are." - -"Then why did you notice my----" - -"Oh, a woman always notices these things, when a man is nice." - -"And you thought me nice?" - -Lesbia fenced. "Good-looking, at all events. You wore a dark flannel -suit striped with pale green." - -"So I did," cried George, delighted, "it was at Mrs. Riordan's picnic -near Bisham Abbey a year ago. And you were there." - -Lesbia laughed and nursed her knees. "I must have been, since I can -describe you so exactly. What did I wear, dear?" - -"I don't know," said George promptly. - -"Oh!" she was quite disappointed, "and you call yourself a lover?" - -"I do," he rejoined stoutly, "for, as I fell in love with you the -moment we met, I saw only your eyes and your angel face. How could you -expect me to remember a mere dress when----" - -"Oh, what nonsense--very nice nonsense; still nonsense." - -"I like talking nonsense to you." - -"And I like to hear it from you. But it isn't bread and butter." - -"You're thinking of afternoon tea," said George Walker audaciously. - -"No. I'm thinking of how we are to live when we marry." - -The mere mention of that delicious word made George forget the warning -conveyed by the sentence. "Marry! Marry you! Oh, heaven!" - -"A pauper heaven, I fear," said Lesbia; then fished in her pocket, -"see, the only valuable thing I possess, besides your love. It is for -you." - -"Oh, my dear, it's not a man's ornament." - -"As if that matters, since I give it to you," she said, laughing. "I -must give you something, and this is all I have to give." - -She held out her hand, on the palm of which rested an amethyst cross -formed of four deeply purple stones, set lightly in gold filigree, -with a loop at the top for the necessary chain to pass through. Not a -very uncommon ornament at the first glance, George decided, although -very beautiful. But on looking more closely he became aware that there -was something bizarre about the thing. In the centre where the four -stones met was a tiny cube of malachite, graven with a golden crown -and inscribed with minute letters. The pansy-blossom hue of the stones -contrasting with the vivid green of the cube gave the ornament rather -an uncanny look. - -"What a queer thing," said George, transferring the cross to his broad -palm. - -"Yes! isn't it?" said Lesbia eagerly, and then brought out a -magnifying glass. "And the inscription is still queerer." - -George poised the powerful glass over the slab of malachite, and with -some difficulty deciphered the golden Gothic letters. "'Refuse and -Lose,'" he read slowly. "Now what does that mean?" - -"You stupid darling," cried Lesbia, pinching his ear, "can't you -see? If you refuse the cross--which is married life; you lose the -crown--which is me." - -Walker thrust the cross into his pocket, handed back the magnifying -glass and solemnly embraced the girl, "I'll take the cross and the -crown and you, and everything I can get," he whispered in her ear. "I -don't exactly see the meaning, of course, but----" - -"Was there ever such a dense man?" Lesbia demanded of the blackbird in -despair. "It's a religious symbol, of course. If you refuse to bear -life's cross in the way you should, you lose the crown which ought to -be yours in heaven." - -George took out the ornament again and looked at it seriously. He had -a considerable strain of the Puritan in his nature, to which the idea -appealed strongly. "I shall certainly not refuse life's cross," he -declared soberly, "and may we both some day wear a crown in a better -world." - -"My darling, my dearest, my best," she murmured, embracing him fondly. -The touch of seriousness in George's gay disposition enhanced his -value in her eyes. She approved of so sterling a character. - -"Where did you get the cross?" asked Walker, while the jewels winked -in the sunshine. "From your father?" - -"No!" she replied unexpectedly. "He doesn't know that I possess such a -thing. But my nurse, old Bridget Burke--Tim's mother, you know--who -died last summer, gave it to me on her death-bed and warned me not to -tell my father about it. She said that it came from my dead mother, -and was to be given by me to the man I loved. So you see, my darling, -that even though it is a woman's ornament, you must take it." - -"I'll wear it round my neck," declared George. "It will bring me good -luck, I am sure." - -"So Bridget said," observed the girl promptly. "She had the 'sight,' -you know, George, and declared that the cross would bring me luck and -money and love and position. I don't know how, unless it is by -marrying you." - -"Ah, my love," said George somewhat sadly. "I can only give you my -heart. Money and position must come later. But if we both obey the -inscription and bear the cross we shall win the crown of success in -the end. Look how the gems flash, Lesbia--an earnest of the future." - -While they were both admiring the cross, a tall, lean man, perfectly -dressed in a Bond Street kit, came softly down the grassy path. He -looked like a gentleman, and also like a hawk, and his pale eyes -wandered from one bent head to the other until they dropped to the -flash of the jewelled cross, which glittered on Walker's palm. Then -the newcomer started nervously, and took a step nearer to observe. -Lesbia and her lover looked up as the shadow of the man fell across -them, and in the movement they made, the cross fell on the grass. - -"Oh, father, how you startled us," cried the girl, springing to her -feet. - -Mr. Walter Hale did not reply. His eyes were still on the purple -stones of the cross, and when his daughter stooped to pick it up, he -twitched his fingers as though anxious to take it from her. "Where did -you get that?" he demanded abruptly and harshly. - -"Bridget gave it to me, and I have given it to George," she said, -handing the ornament to her lover. "It belonged to my mother." - -"It did," said Hale sharply, "and therefore must not pass out of the -family." - -"It won't," said Lesbia cheerfully; "George is to be my husband." - -Mr. Hale frowned. "You have yet to gain my permission," he said in dry -tones. "Meanwhile, Mr. Walker, give me back the cross." - -"No!" said George, who did not like the tone of his future -father-in-law and could be obstinate when necessary. "Lesbia gave it -to me, and I intend to keep it." - -"Lesbia had no right to give it to you," cried Hale, his voice rising, -and he extended his hand to take his desire. But Walker was too quick -for him and dexterously swerving, shot the cross into his pocket. - -"It is Lesbia's first present to me," said he, excusing his obstinacy. - -"She has no right to make you presents," foamed the other, who had now -entirely lost his temper. - -"She has the right of a lover," retorted George coolly. - -"There can be no question of love between you and my daughter." - -The girl moved to her lover's side, very pale and very defiant. "That -is for me to decide," she said coldly, but with determination. - -"You go against your father, Lesbia?" - -"For the first time in my life. And why not, when the matter is so -important?" - -Hale bit his lips and tried to stare her down: but as her eyes did not -drop before his own he was the first to give way, and did so with -inward rage. With an impatient shrug he wheeled to face young Walker. -The two presented the striking contrast of untainted youth and -artificial age too much versed in the evils of life. And youth had the -advantage, for--as in the case of Lesbia--the older man tried to -dominate without success. He was forced to take refuge in idle -threats. - -"If you do not give me back that cross, it will be the worse for you," -remarked Hale, very distinctly and with menace. - -George clenched his fists, then, with a glance towards Lesbia, ended -the argument by stepping into his boat. As he rowed off, Hale, who had -not attempted to stop him, turned bitterly to his daughter. - -"You have ruined me," he said between his teeth, and returned hastily -to the cottage. - - - - -CHAPTER II -THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS - - -To say that Lesbia was amazed conveys imperfectly her state of mind. -The sudden arrival of her father, the hasty departure of her lover, -the mysterious incident connected with the amethyst cross, and the -still more mysterious remark which Mr. Hale had made--these things -perplexed and, very naturally, alarmed her. At once, with the -swiftness of an imaginative brain, she conjured up visions of disgrace -and shame and criminal publicity, going too far in her surmises, after -the fashion of such a brain. For after all, as a calmer reflection -suggested, there was nothing in what had taken place that should -induce such happenings, although there were several disquieting hints. - -For a few moments the girl remained where she was, too agitated to -move; but when Hale disappeared into the cottage, and George's boat -vanished round a bend of the shining river, she woke to the fact that -for her own peace of mind it was necessary to ask questions. At once -she ran up the grass-grown path, and speedily found herself in the -narrow passage, which led right through the house from back to front. -But she only entered to hear the street door bang, and flew to open it -again in the hope of catching Mr. Hale before he could go far away. -But the man must have made good use of his legs, for when she peered -out into the quiet side street she noticed that it was empty. This -vanishing of her father without an explanation dismayed her more than -ever, and in the hope of gaining some sort of information she sought -Tim in the tiny kitchen, calling on him loudly. A soft voice like a -well-tuned lute answered her from the scullery. - -"Ah, Miss Lesbia, and what wud ye be after spoilin' yer pretty voice -for now? Don't ye, me darlin', don't ye!" - -"Why has my father gone out, Tim?" asked Lesbia sharply. - -An odd little man emerged from the scullery and stood coolly rubbing -his nose-tip with the toe of the boot he was polishing. "An' how -should I know, miss? Didn't he come tearing through the passage, as if -the divil wor after him, an' lape like a trout int' the street? Sure -ye must have seen the masther rampagin' yersilf." - -"I know that father came and found me with George and----" - -"Ah, thin, 'tis Garge, is it?" muttered Tim, beginning to brush -mechanically. - -"And rushed away in a temper because George would not give him my -amethyst cross." - -Crash went the boot on the floor, and the blacking-brush followed, -while Tim stared out of his melancholy grey eyes as though he saw a -ghost. Decidedly the ornament was causing a considerable sensation, -although Lesbia could not understand why her father should rage, any -more than why Tim should stare. "Like a stuck pig," as she said, -inelegantly. And the annoying thing was that he did more than stare. - -"Oh, blissid saints in glory!" groaned the Irishman, crossing himself. - -"What on earth do you mean?" asked the girl, tartly, for she was -beginning to weary of these mysteries. - -"Oh, blissid saints in glory!" Tim moaned again, and, picking up the -boot and the brush with the expression of a martyr, went into the -scullery to peel potatoes. - -Lesbia, who was a determined young woman, followed, quite bent upon -getting at the root of the disturbance. - -"Come and talk, Tim." - -"Sure an' I must git the dinner ready anyhow, Miss." - -"Come out, or I'll come in," cried Lesbia, standing at the door. - -"Sure ye wudn't dirthy th' clothes av ye," coaxed Tim, and very -unwillingly scrambled back into the cleaner, drier kitchen with the -tin basin of potatoes in his huge fist. - -He was certainly an ugly, under-sized man, and looked like the wicked -dwarf of a fairy tale. But the similarity was all on the surface, for -Tim Burke was as good and devoted a little Paddy as ever dipped his -fingers into holy water. But his appearance was not prepossessing, for -he was broader than he was long, and on a pair of hunched shoulders -was set askew a gigantic head much too large for his squat body. His -short legs were crooked, and he usually walked in a crab-like fashion -in unexpected directions--that is, whither his brain did not direct -his legs to go. He was barely five feet high, and his shaggy beard was -as red as the untidy hair covering his poll. He was quite a -monstrosity. - -Nevertheless, Tim had his good points, for Nature had given him -beautiful grey eyes, pathetic as those of a dog, and a sweet -sympathetic voice, which sounded like a mellow bell. To hear Tim sing -Irish ditties of the heart-breaking sort was a treat not to be met -with every day, but he rarely sang them, save to Lesbia, whom he -adored. And small wonder, for she alone was kind to the odd, uncouth, -little man. Mr. Hale, whose selfishness was phenomenal, treated Tim -like a white slave and, indeed, he might be called one, seeing that he -worked like a horse and received no wages. Yet he was an admirable -housekeeper and a magnificent cook. With such qualifications he could -have procured a well-paid situation. Yet, for Lesbia's sake, he -remained at Rose Cottage, watching her like a cat a mouse, but with -more amiable intentions. She was the legacy which his mother Bridget, -the girl's nurse, had left him on her death-bed, when she died some -twelve months before. - -Lesbia, looking like a fairy princess attended by her dwarf, perched -herself on the kitchen table with a severe face. To lose no time while -being questioned, Tim set to work peeling the potatoes, for Mr. Hale -growled like a bear when his meals were not placed punctually on the -table. As he peeled each potato, he dropped it with a splash into a -bucket of clean water and rarely raised his sad eyes to the face of -his young mistress during the conversation which ensued. Also--and -this Lesbia noticed--he conversed very reluctantly, and every -admission was wrung from unwilling lips. - -"Tim," said his mistress severely, and beginning at the beginning, -"you are the only son of my nurse, Bridget Burke." - -"I am that, Miss, her only boy, Miss, and a good mother she was to -me." - -"A good nurse also, Tim. She loved me." - -"An' who wudn't, ye pretty creature? Ain't I devoted to ye likewise, -me darlin'? Answer me that now?" - -"I shall do so," said Miss Hale significantly, "when our conversation -comes to an end." - -Tim groaned and winced. "Bad luck to the crass," he breathed, "an' may -the Vargin forgive me for sayin that same." - -"Why, bad luck to the cross?" demanded Lesbia, coming to the point. - -"An' how shud I know, me dear?" - -"But you do know," she insisted. "Tim, your mother gave me that -cross." - -"Did she now?--the owd fool." - -"How dare you, Tim, and Bridget dead? She was your mother." - -"Deed an' well she might be, Miss, for an uglier owd woman nivir could -be found in County Clare, forby she left it for this blissid country -whin I wor a gossoon." - -"Did my father bring her over from Ireland, Tim?" - -"Not he," Tim shook his Judas-coloured head. "Divil an eye did the -pair av us clap on the gintleman for many a long day. Wasn't I a -bare-futted brat runnin' wild about Whitechapel till my father--rest -his sowl--wos tuck by the police for shop-liftin'--bad luck to thim? -An' he died in gaol, poor man--ah, that he did, laving me mother an' -me widout bread in the mouths av us." - -"What did Bridget do then, Tim?" - -"Sure she come to Wimbleton or a place hard by," admitted Tim -reluctantly, "sellin' apples an' nuts, an' a mighty bad thing she made -by the sale." - -"I want to know exactly how she came to be my nurse?" said Lesbia. - -Tim bent over the potatoes deeply interested in the peeling. "Why, -Miss, your father--" here he swallowed something--"the masther, Miss, -and a kind, good gintleman, tuck pity on her and give her the -situation as your nurse, me dear." - -"But my mother?" - -"Oh, howly saints, an' how cud she say anything whin she wos dyin' an' -you but a year old? But my mother nursed you like her own choild, -Miss, till ye went to that school at Hampstead. But ye came back here -just whin she was dyin', poor sowl." - -"I did, a year ago," said Lesbia significantly, "and in time to -receive the cross, Tim." - -"May the father av lies fly away wid it!" groaned the dwarf. "An' may -the saints forgive me for the wicked wish." - -"Whatever do you mean, Tim?" - -"Mane, ah, nivir ask me what I mane. But the crass isn't with ye now, -an' ye'll be the betther widout it." - -"Oh!" Lesbia slipped off the table with a heightened colour, "does -that mean it is unlucky? I gave it to George, you see, and----" - -"Ah, divil doubt but what you'd give the head av ye to Garge," -grumbled Tim, taking up the tin of peeled potatoes. "Ah, well, 'tis -betther he shud have it nor you, me dear." - -"But why, but why?" asked Lesbia, frantic with curiosity. - -"Ah, nivir ask me, Miss," replied Tim enigmatically, and departed to -continue his culinary work; also--as she could see--to avoid further -questioning. - -Failing Tim, the girl resolved to learn what her father would say, -when at dinner. This was a meal which Mr. Hale never missed, as he was -devoted to the pleasures of the table and appreciated Tim's excellent -cooking. He always arrayed himself in purple and fine linen to do -justice to the viands set before him, and it was the rule of the -cottage that Lesbia should also dress appropriately. Her father prided -himself upon being ultra-civilised, and would have eaten a red herring -with sartorial ceremony. The table was admirably laid with crystal and -silver and valuable china, and--decorated with flowers in graceful -vases--looked extremely pretty. Tim, in a livery of his master's -devising, acted as butler, and the wines were as good as the food, -which is saying a lot. Mr. Hale might live in a humble cottage and -might mix with queer people, but he was a sybarite, who enjoyed the -good things of this life artistically prepared. The room was -beautifully furnished, and Lesbia was more beautiful than the room. -Therefore, on this especial night, Mr. Walter Hale had both his palate -and his eye gratified. His ear was not ministered to quite so -pleasantly, as, after dinner, and when Tim had left the room to -prepare the coffee, he renewed the subject of the cross with his -daughter. - -"Lesbia," said he, fixing his eyes on her somewhat flushed face, and -looking extremely high-bred, "why did you give away that cross?" - -"Bridget, who presented it to me on her death-bed, said that I was to -bestow it on the man I meant to marry. I have done so." - -This was a very defiant speech, and Hale frowned. "I shall not allow -you to marry young Walker," he said distinctly. - -Lesbia shrugged her shoulders with indifference. This was not the way -to manage her. "I am sorry, father, as I have decided to become his -wife." - -"He has no money, you silly girl. I know for a fact that he is paid -only a small salary by Michael Tait, who is a screw and a skinflint -where his own pleasures are not concerned. Moreover, Walker has to -support his widowed mother, and she is not likely to welcome a -daughter-in-law who will curtail her comforts, such as they are. A -hard woman, Lesbia, a very hard woman, my dear. I ought to know, as we -have been acquainted for years." - -The prospect did not seem alluring, but love sustained the girl. -"George might get a better situation," she ventured to remark, a -trifle anxiously. "Why," she added, this as though the thought had -just struck her, "he might help you, father." - -Hale spilt the port wine he was pouring into his glass. "What's that?" - -"You need not speak crossly, father," replied Lesbia, puzzled by the -sharpness of his tone. "I merely suggested that George might enter -your office, and then he----" - -The man rose suddenly and began to pace the room with the glass -of wine in his hand. But the look he cast upon his daring child -was so grim that the unfinished sentence died on her lips. -"'George--might--enter--your--office!'" he repeated slowly, and ended -with a cynical laugh. "Humph! I wonder now----" he laughed again and -checked his speech. Then he finished his glass of wine and returned to -the table. "When does Walker come to see you again?" he asked -abruptly. - -"To-morrow night at six o'clock," said Lesbia, promptly. "He rows down -the river from Medmenham, or walks along the towing-path, every -evening." - -"A devoted lover truly," said Hale drily, "and how long has this -pretty wooing been going on?" - -"For a few months," said Lesbia, rather alarmed by the stern -expression of her father's face. "Don't be angry. After all, it was -you who introduced me to George." - -"The more fool I, seeing his age and looks and poverty. Lesbia!" he -placed his knuckles on the table and leaned across it. "You must marry -my friend, Captain Sargent." - -"Ex-Captain Sargent," cried Lesbia scornfully, and rising -unexpectedly. "I shall do nothing of the sort. I don't even like him." - -"Pooh! Pooh! Pooh! He is a gentleman----" - -"So is George." - -Hale rapped the table sharply. "Do not interrupt, you minx. Sargent -has retired from the army, it is true. But he has a good income and a -pretty bungalow at Cookham. We were in the same regiment until I left -the service some fifteen years ago; so I know him well. He will make -an excellent husband--a very excellent husband indeed." - -"But, father, he is nearly as old as you are." - -"What of that? Sargent is a handsome man and looks young." - -Lesbia bit her lip, and tapped her foot on the ground. "I shan't marry -him." - -Hale scowled. "You shall. I am your father and you shall do as you are -told, my dear. And if you don't marry Sargent you shall certainly not -marry Walker, unless----" he stopped suddenly. - -"Unless what?" - -"Unless you get that cross back from him," stormed Hale angrily. - -Lesbia was nothing if not direct, and the mystery of the cross piqued -her exceedingly. She ventured on a leading question. "Why do you want -that cross so much, father?" - -"It belonged to your poor mother," said Mr. Hale sentimentally, "and -means more to me than you can ever guess. I missed it from your -mother's jewel-case when she died; but I never expected that Bridget -Burke, who was supposed to be the soul of honesty, had stolen it." - -"No! no. I don't believe Bridget would have stolen anything." - -"Bridget would have done anything that suited her," retorted Hale -grimly, "and if she came by the cross honestly--say by your mother -giving it to her--why did she not let you show it to me?" - -"I can't guess: perhaps she thought you would take it from me." - -"I might and I might not," replied Hale hesitatingly, "but at all -events I should not have allowed you to give it to young Walker. You -must ask him to return it at once." - -"I shall not," said Lesbia determinedly. - -"You shall," cried Hale, and their eyes met like those of two duelists -crossing swords. But the father's eyes fell first. "You dare to defy -me." - -"Not exactly, but----" - -"I want no explanations, thank you; but I'll make a bargain with you. -If Walker returns that cross he can have you as his wife. If not, I -shall refuse to allow him to haunt the cottage or pay attentions to -you. And remember, Lesbia, that I hold the purse-strings." - -"George can keep me," panted Lesbia, her colour rising. - -"George has to keep his mother. Marry him without a dowry and see what -the Honourable Mrs. Aylmer Walker will say." - -"You cannot give me a fortune, father." - -"I can give you two thousand a year if you are obedient," said her -father coolly, and walked towards the door. "Think it over, Lesbia," -and he left her to meditate on the astounding news. - -Lesbia was naturally astonished, since she never dreamed that her -father was so wealthy. Everything in the cottage was good of its kind, -and even luxurious, and the living was excellent. But at times Hale -appeared to lack ready money, and frequently impressed upon Tim that -it was necessary to be economical. Why then should he act in this way -when he appeared to be rich, and why should he offer so large an -income on condition that the cross was returned? So far as Lesbia -understood her father's hard nature, he was not a man to pay -generously for a merely sentimental idea. - -However, the fact remained that if she could get the amethyst cross -returned, she could marry George and bring him a substantial dowry. -After much reflection, she determined to ask George for the ornament. -After all, she could easily give him something else, and it was worth -satisfying her father when so much was at stake. - -For half a moment Lesbia thought that she would put on her cloak and -hat, and walk along the towing-path to Medmenham in the hope of -meeting her lover. It was now half-past eight, as dinner had taken -place at seven. - -Mr. Hale had gone out, and Tim, as was his custom on fine evenings, -was paddling about in a boat on the river, sometimes rowing and -sometimes fishing. She was alone and the solitude was becoming -irksome. A great wave of desire for love and sympathy came over the -girl, and she longed to see George Walker immediately, not only to -tell him of her father's offer, but to be petted and kissed and -comforted. But a few minutes' reflection showed her that it was not -advisable that she should walk alone to Medmenham, especially as the -chances were that she might not meet her lover. It was true that he -would certainly be at home, but Lesbia did not know Mrs. Walker and, -from the description given by her father, hesitated to meet that -formidable lady. On the whole, then, she decided, it was better to -wait until George came as usual on the ensuing evening. - -Being alone, it was difficult to find entertainment. Lesbia played the -piano for a few minutes: then she read and afterwards enjoyed a game -or two of Patience. Finally, feeling bored in the lonely house, she -retired to bed about ten o'clock. There she speedily fell asleep, and -dreamed that all obstacles were removed, and she was George Walker's -wife. When she put out her light, neither Mr. Hale nor Tim had -returned. - -Lesbia's sleep lasted for some considerable time. Then she suddenly -sat up with her senses keenly alive to every sensation. It seemed to -her that George had called her, and that she had awakened in answer to -his cry. And it was a cry for help, too! With a sensation of alarm, -she sprang from her bed, and opened the lattice to look down the -garden and across the river. There it flowed silvery in the calm -moonlight: but she heard no cry and saw nothing. Yet the call for -help had been very distinct. Lesbia was not superstitious, and had it -been broad daylight she would have laughed, at such midnight fancies. -But in the mysterious moonlight--alone in the house so far as she -knew--and at the hour of twelve o'clock, her heart beat rapidly, and a -cold perspiration broke out on her forehead. George was in danger: she -was sure of that. And George had called to her in a dream. What was -she to do? In which direction was she to look? - -The first idea that came into her head was to see Tim, and explain. He -would not laugh at her fancies, as he had many of his own. Lesbia -threw on her dressing-gown, slipped her feet into shoes, and went down -the narrow staircase, taking a lighted candle with her. In the hall -all was quiet, and she paused here for a single moment, wondering if -it was worth while to awaken Tim with such a fantastical story of -midnight terrors. Just as she was deciding that it would be wiser to -return to bed, she heard a groan, and in her fright nearly dropped the -candle. But being a brave girl, she plucked up courage and listened. -There came a second groan--from the parlour. Lesbia immediately opened -the door and entered. There on the floor she saw a man bound and -gagged and stiff, with nothing alive about him but his eyes. And those -were the eyes of George Walker. - - - - -CHAPTER III -ANOTHER MYSTERY - - -Lesbia Hale was small, fragile and, in a degree, romantic; but in -sufficiently strange contrast, her frame was strong and her nature -practical. An ordinary girl would have screamed and fainted, or -perhaps would have run away. Lesbia did none of these things. She -turned pale, it is true, and she trembled violently as she stared with -dilated eyes at the bound form of her lover. Then it came upon her -with a rush that immediate aid was required, and without even calling -for Tim, she set down her candlestick on a convenient chair, and knelt -beside the unfortunate young man. He was certainly in a very bad way; -but how he came to be in such a plight, Lesbia, with characteristic -commonsense, did not wait to inquire. The first thing was to loosen -him, and revive him with wine: then she could ask questions. The -answers promised to be interesting. - -First she dexterously removed the handkerchief from across his mouth, -with which George had been gagged in a clumsy manner. This she threw -aside with a passing thought that later she would learn to whom it -belonged, and then proceeded to unloosen the knot of the rope with -which her lover was bound. There was only one rope and only one knot, -and when she had disentangled the somewhat complicated fastening, she -unwound the cord which curled round him from his broad shoulders to -his ankles. With his arms glued to his sides and his feet pressed -closely together, George Walker had been tied up with yards of -brand-new manila rope, so that he could not move, and was trussed as -stiffly as any fowl prepared for the market. And the person or persons -who had bound him thus, to make assurance doubly sure, had struck him -a heavy blow on the back of his head. Lesbia discovered this by the -half-dry blood which clotted his curly hair. - -"What does it all mean?" asked Lesbia, when George was free from his -bonds, and lying almost as stiffly without them as he had when bound. -But the young man did not reply, for the very good reason that he had -fainted. At once Lesbia kissed him, and then went to the parlour door -to summon Tim. - -She called loudly, quite heedless of the fact that she might waken her -father, who did not approve of young Walker. And even if he did not, -it was necessary that he should come to aid the unfortunate man. So -while the French clock on the mantelpiece struck a silvery twelve, -Lesbia shouted at the full pitch of her healthy young lungs. In a few -minutes the alarmed voice of Tim was heard, and by the time she was -again kneeling beside George, the dwarf shuffled hurriedly into the -dimly-lighted room, half-dressed, a candle in one hand and the kitchen -poker in the other. - -"The saints be betwixt us and harm, Miss Lesbia," cried Tim, who -looked scared out of his senses, "what's come to you?" - -"What's come to George, you mean," said Lesbia, looking up. "See, Tim, -I heard him call me and came downstairs a few minutes ago to find him -bound and wounded. Don't stand there shaking, and don't chatter. Get -the brandy and heat some water. He has fainted, and we must bring him -to his senses." - -"But how the divil did Masther Garge come here?" demanded Tim, aghast. - -"How should I know?" retorted Lesbia impatiently. "We can ask him when -he is able to speak. Go and do what I tell you while I waken my -father." - -"Sure the masther isn't in, Miss," expostulated Tim, backing towards -the door. "He wint out afther dinner to spind the night wid Captain -Sargent at Cookham. An' that we shud have the bad luck av this, while -he's away. Oh, Miss Lesbia, wasn't it burglars I was thinking av? But -nivir murder, save the mark, an' sudden death at that." - -"It will be sudden death if you don't get that brandy. Stop!" Lesbia -started to her feet. "I'll get it myself. Go and heat the water to -bathe his wound." - -She ran into the dining-room and procured the spirit, while Tim went -to stoke up the kitchen fire. Lesbia forced George's teeth apart and -poured the brandy wholesale down his throat. The ardent liquor revived -him, and he opened his eyes with a faint sigh. "Don't speak, darling," -she whispered, with a second kiss, and then set to work chafing his -limbs. By the time Tim appeared with a jug of boiling water, the young -man had quite recovered his senses, and attempted to explain. - -"No," said Lesbia sharply, "you are too weak as yet. Bring a basin, -Tim, and a sponge. We must bathe his head." - -Considering she had no practice Lesbia performed her Good Samaritan -task very dexterously and, having sponged the wound--a nasty, jagged -blow from some blunt instrument,--bound up her lover's head with that -cleverness and tenderness which come from love. When he had quite -recovered--save for a trifling weakness--she made him lie down on the -sofa, and fed him with weak brandy and water. Tim meanwhile lighted -the lamp, and exhausted himself in guessing the reason for the -condition of young Walker. "It's that blissed crass," moaned Tim, -moving round like an unquiet ghost, "bad luck to the same! Didn't I -say it wud bring throuble?" - -"You did, Tim, you did," assented Lesbia, who was seated by the now -recovered man, and looking somewhat weary after her exertions, "but as -George is comparatively well, he can explain." - -"The cross is quite safe," said Walker faintly. "I left it at home. -Oh, my head, how it aches. No wonder, when such a heavy blow was -struck." - -"Who struck it, dear?" inquired Lesbia. - -"I don't know," George's voice was weary. "It's a long story." - -"Drink some more of this," said Lesbia, holding the glass to his pale -lips, "and wait until you feel stronger." - -"Oh, I'm much better now," he replied, pushing the brandy and water -away, "but I shan't be able to go to the office to-morrow morning." - -"Beg-ad, it's to-morrow morning already!" said Tim, glancing at the -clock. "Half-past twilve as I'm a sinner, an' here's Miss Lesbia an' -mesilf sittin' up like the quality. Oh, the sowl av me, what will the -masther say?" - -"What can he say?" demanded Miss Hale tartly. "Father can't hold you -and me accountable for the unexpected." - -"Unexpected, indeed," breathed George. "Who would have thought that I -would have been struck down on the towing-path. I can't guess the -reason, Lesbia, it's beyond me." - -"The crass! the crass!" muttered Tim, shaking his shaggy head. - -"What do you know about it?" demanded Lesbia. - -"Divil a thing, but that it brings bad luck," answered Tim sturdily. - -"It is not altogether bad luck that George has been brought here for -me to attend to him," she retorted. - -"No, dear," Walker patted her hand, "this accident shows me what an -angel you are. But how did I come here?" - -"Don't you know who brought you?" - -"I know nothing from the time I was struck down on the towing-path -near Medmenham, until the moment I saw you standing in yonder doorway -with a candle in your hand." - -Lesbia knitted her pretty brows. "I can't understand. Some enemy----" - -"I have no enemies," murmured George positively. - -"Then it's a mystery," declared the girl, still more perplexed. "Tell -me exactly what took place." - -Walker passed his hand wearily across his forehead, for his head ached -considerably. "After leaving you with your father, darling, I rowed -back to Medmenham, and went home to the cottage. My mother was not -within, as she had gone up to town early in the day and did not intend -to return until to-morrow----" - -"That's to-day, begob!" interpolated Tim, again looking at the clock. - -"Then it is to-day she returns," said Walker, in a stronger voice, -"about three in the afternoon. But to continue, Lesbia, I had my -dinner and smoked a pipe. Then I grew restless, wondering if you were -having a bad time with your father on my account. I thought he would -make things unpleasant for you, and determined to come down and see -what had happened. That was about ten o'clock." - -Lesbia patted his hand. "You need not have troubled, dear. My father -and I got on very well together." - -"I did not know that, and so was anxious. I ferried over the river to -the towing-path, and walked down towards Marlow, intending to cross -the bridge and come here." - -"I was in bed at ten." - -"So soon. I thought you might be sitting up." - -"Well, I did not expect you, dear," explained the girl. "As Tim was -out on the river, and my father had gone away, I found it dull. I went -to bed because I could think of nothing else to do. Then I fancied I -heard you calling for help, and came down to find you gagged and -bound." - -"I did not call for help because I was gagged," said George, "and -almost insensible. I expect you were dreaming." - -"A very serviceable dream," said Lesbia drily. "Go on, George, -darling." - -"About half way between Medmenham and Marlow, while I was walking -along in the moonlight, I heard a soft step behind me, and turned to -see a man almost on top of me. I had not even time to see what he was -like, so quickly did he attack me. Aiming a blow at my head with a -bludgeon, he struck me hard, and I fell insensible on the path." - -"And then?" - -"Then I woke to find you looking at me in this room. That's all." - -Lesbia examined her lover searchingly. He wore white flannel trousers, -a silk shirt, a white flannel coat, and brown shoes. His panama hat -was missing. - -Then Lesbia uttered an exclamation, and pointed to his pockets. All -these, both in coat and trousers, were turned inside out, and the -buttons of his shirt were undone, as though he had been searched to -the skin. "It's robbery," said Lesbia firmly. - -"Robbery! Impossible! Why should anyone rob a pauper like me? I have -nothing." - -"You have the crass!" murmured Tim, who was squatting on the floor, -and who looked like a goblin. - -"Tim." It was Lesbia who spoke. "Do you think that Mr. Walker was -attacked to get the amethyst cross?" - -"Faith, an' I can't say, Miss. But me mother--rest her sowl--towld me -that the crass brought bad luck, and it's come to Masther Garge here. -Maybe it's only talk, but there you are," and he pointed to the young -man. - -Walker reflected for a moment or so, while Lesbia turned over Tim's -explanation in her mind. "I daresay he is right," said George -pensively, "and you also, Lesbia. I was rendered insensible so that I -might be robbed, as is proved by my pockets being turned inside out. -As the only article of value I possessed was the cross, and I only -acquired that yesterday evening, I expect it was the cross this man -was after. If so, he must be very much disappointed, for I left your -gift in the drawer of my dressing-table, before I came to see you at -ten o'clock." - -"What was the man like?" - -"I told you that I only caught a glimpse of him," said Walker -fretfully, for the conversation wearied him. "He seemed to be a tall -man, and was roughly dressed. His soft hat was pulled over his eyes, -and--and I know, nothing more about him." - -Seeing that he was still weak, Lesbia stood up. "You can lie here on -the sofa and go to sleep," she said softly. "To-morrow morning we can -talk." - -"But I have to get to London by the eight o'clock train--the office!" - -"Bother the office!" said Lesbia inelegantly. "You are not fit to go -to the office. Try to sleep. Tim, give me that rug you brought. There, -dear," she tucked him in. "I have left a glass of water beside you. -Tim can come in every now and then to see how you are." - -"Augh," groaned Tim, yawning, "it's just as well, Miss. I cudn't slape -forty winks, wid blue murther about. But the masther will come back -after breakfast, an' what will we say at all, at all?" - -"Say," snapped Lesbia, who was at the door, looking extremely weary. -"Tell the truth, of course. My father will quite approve of what we -have done. George, don't talk to Tim, who is a chatterbox, but go to -sleep. You need all you can get, poor boy." - -George, already nearly asleep, murmured an incoherent reply and, -leaving Tim to watch over him, Lesbia returned to her room, but not to -sleep for at least an hour. Lying on her bed, she tried to fathom the -mystery of this assault upon her unoffending lover. Apparently the -cross had to do with the matter, as George had never been attacked -before. And then in a flash the girl remembered that her father was -desirous of regaining the ornament, and apparently, from the way in -which he had talked, was prepared to go to great lengths to get it. -Could it be that he had struck down her lover? He had been absent all -the evening, and would be absent all the night, at Sargent's Cookham -cottage, according to the message he had left with Tim. He did not -like Walker, and moreover was tall, as the assailant had been. It -really seemed as though Mr. Walter Hale had taken the law into his own -hands and, to get back his property, as he averred the cross to be, -had committed something uncommonly like highway robbery. Lesbia -worried over the problem half the night, as she could not believe that -her father would act so basely. Finally, towards dawn she fell into an -uneasy sleep. - -It was ten o'clock when she woke, and at once her thoughts reverted -to the late exciting event. No such sensational happening had ever -before disturbed the quietness of the riverside cottage, and the -mystery which environed it was an added fascination. As Lesbia slowly -dressed--and in her prettiest frock for the sake of George,--she again -wondered if her father was connected with the assault and the -attempted robbery. - -George could only have been attacked for the sake of the amethyst -cross, and her father alone--so far as she knew--desired that cross. -Yet if Mr. Hale was guilty, why had he brought his victim into his own -house? No one else could have brought George, for no one else could -have entered. Lesbia had no great love for her father, since he -invariably repelled all her proffers of affection; but she now felt -that she could actively hate him for his wickedness in so dealing with -the man she loved. And yet, as she reflected when she descended the -stairs, she could not be sure that her father was guilty, even in the -face of such evidence. - -When Lesbia entered the dining-room she found George quite his old -self. The night's rest had done him good, and a cold bath had -refreshed him greatly. With Tim's willing assistance he had made -himself presentable and, save for a linen bandage round his head, -looked much the same as he had done on the previous day. He came -forward swiftly with sparkling eyes, and took Lesbia in his arms, -murmuring soft and foolish words, after the way of lovers, even less -romantic. - -"Darling! Darling! Darling! How good you have been to me." - -"I could have done no less for anyone," replied Lesbia, leading him to -a chair. "Sit down, dearest, you are still weak." - -"On the contrary I am quite strong, although my head still aches a -trifle from that cowardly blow. Besides, I am hungry, and there is Tim -bringing in a magnificent breakfast. Sweetest and best," he went on, -leading her to the well-spread table, "this is just as if we were -married. You at the top of the table and I at the bottom. Give me a -cup of coffee, Lesbia, and I'll serve out the eggs and ham. Tim, you -needn't wait." - -Tim grumbled a trifle, as he loved to wait on Lesbia, But he was an -Irishman and appreciated a love affair. It did not need much -cleverness to see that young Walker wished to be alone with his -beloved, if only to enjoy the unique situation. Tim therefore departed -and the couple had their breakfast in heavenly solitude. Lesbia wished -to talk about the adventure on the towing-path, and to ask questions, -but George positively refused to speak of anything save the most -frivolous matters. - -"Your father will return soon," he explained, passing his cup for more -coffee, "and then I shall have to tell my story all over again. Let us -talk about ourselves and of our future." - -Lesbia, after a faint resistance, was only too pleased to obey, so -they had an extremely pleasant meal. The room was cheerful with the -summer sun, which poured in floods of light and warmth through the -windows, and the feeling of spring was still in the air. Most -prosaically they enjoyed their food and unromantically ate a large -breakfast, but all the time they kept looking at one another and -relishing the novel situation. It was brought to an end only too -speedily by the sudden entrance of Mr. Hale. Tall, lean, cold and -stern, he appeared on the threshold, and stared in surprise at the way -in which young Walker was taking possession, not only of his house but -of his daughter. - -"What the devil does this mean?" asked Hale, politely indignant. - -"Look at George's head," cried Lesbia with a shiver, for her doubts -returned fortyfold at the sight of her aristocratic father. - -"That explains nothing," said Hale drily, "perhaps, Mr. Walker, you -will undertake to tell me how it comes that I find you making yourself -at home in my poor abode?" - -George, who was perfectly cool and collected, told his story. Hale -listened, much more discomposed than he chose to appear, and at the -conclusion of the narrative asked one question, which showed where his -thoughts were. - -"The cross," he said eagerly, "have you been robbed of the cross?" - -"No," answered Walker positively, "although I believe that I was -attacked for the sake of it. But luckily I left it in the drawer of my -dressing-table. Can you guess who attacked me?" - -"No," said Hale coolly, "I cannot." - -"Still, if you know about the cross----" - -"I only know that it belonged to my wife and that I want to get it -back as soon as possible. Lesbia should never have given it to you. As -to your being attacked so that you might be robbed of it, I can't -believe that story. The cross, as a jewel, is not so very valuable. -Besides, no one but myself and Lesbia and Tim knew that you had it. I -presume," ended Hale, in his most sarcastic manner, "that you do not -suspect any one of us three." - -"Oh no," rejoined Walker promptly, and spoke as he believed in spite -of the troubled look which Lesbia cast on him. "Still----" - -Hale threw up his hand to interrupt. "We can talk of your adventure -later, Mr. Walker. After all, the cross may have something to do with -the way in which you were assaulted, although--as I said--it appears -unlikely. I want to recover it immediately, and am the more eager, now -that I have heard of your adventure. Give me a note to your mother -saying that the cross is to be given to me, and I shall consent to -your marriage with Lesbia." - -George looked at the girl, who nodded. "Let my father have back the -cross, since he so greatly desires it," she said. "I can give you -something else, dear. I am willing to pay that price for my father's -consent." - -George shrugged his shoulders. "It is immaterial to me," he said -calmly, "so long as you are pleased, dear. I only wished to keep the -ornament as your first love-gift to me. Have you a pencil, Mr. Hale. -Thank you." - -He scribbled a note. "To Jenny, our maid-servant," he explained, when -handing it to the tall, silent man, "she will admit you into my -bedroom and you will find the cross in the right-hand drawer of my -dressing-table." - -"But your mother----" - -"My mother went to London yesterday and will not be back until three -o'clock to-day. If you like to wait I can go over with you later." - -"No," said Hale brusquely, "your mother might make objections. I know -how difficult she is to deal with. I'll go myself: you stay here with -Lesbia." - -George was nothing loth, and when Mr. Hale departed he walked with his -beloved in the garden. They should have talked of the adventure, and -Lesbia should have told George the thought that was uppermost in her -mind--namely, that her father was cognisant of the assault. But she -did not care to make such an accusation upon insufficient grounds, and -moreover hesitated to accuse her father of such a crime. She therefore -willingly agreed to postpone all talk of the adventure until Mr. -Hale's return, and surrendered herself to the pleasure of the moment. -The lovers spent a long morning in the garden of love, gathering the -rosebuds which Herrick recommends should be culled in youth. Time flew -by on golden wings, and Hale was no sooner gone all the way to -Medmenham, than he seemed to come back. He could not have been away -for more than five minutes, as it appeared to these two enthralled by -Love. For them time had no existence. - -But their dream of love fled, when Hale came swiftly down the path -looking both angry and alarmed, and, indeed, perplexed. "The cross has -gone," he said. - -"Impossible," cried George, starting to his feet, astonished. "I left -it----" - -"The cross has gone," repeated Hale decisively, "your cottage has been -robbed, burgled. I repeat, the cross has gone." - - - - -CHAPTER IV -A FAMILY HISTORY - - -After delivering his message of woe, Mr. Hale sat down on the garden -seat under the chestnut tree, and mechanically flicked the dust from -his neat brown shoes with a silk handkerchief. He was perfectly -arrayed as usual, and on account of the heat of the day wore a suit of -spotless drill, cool and clean-looking. But if his clothes were cool -he certainly was not, for his usually colourless face was flushed a -deep red and his eyes sparkled with anger. Lesbia, who had risen with -George, looked at him with compunction in her heart. After all--so her -thoughts ran--she had suspected her father wrongly. If he had attacked -George to regain this unlucky cross, he assuredly would not now be -lamenting its loss. And yet if he were innocent, who was guilty, -considering the few people who knew that the ornament was in -existence? Tim might--but it was impossible to suspect Tim Burke, who -was the soul of honesty. - -"Well," said Hale crossly, "what is to be done?" - -He looked directly at George, who faced him standing, with a look of -perplexity on his handsome face. "Are you sure that the house has been -robbed?" he asked doubtfully. - -Mr. Hale shrugged his shoulders. "I usually say what I mean," he -remarked acridly. "I took your note to Medmenham, and found the local -policeman conversing with your mother's servant. From her I learned -what had taken place, and, indeed, she was telling the constable when -I came up." - -"Well?" - -"It seems," pursued Hale, producing a cigar, "that Jenny--as she is -called----" - -"Yes, yes!" broke in Walker impatiently, "go on." - -"Well, then, Jenny rose this morning to find the window of the -drawing-room wide open. Nothing was touched in that room. But your -bedroom was ransacked thoroughly. Your clothes were strewn about, and -apparently every pocket had been examined. The drawers were opened, -and even the bed had been overhauled. There was no sign of the -burglar, and Jenny swears that--sleeping at the back of the house--she -heard nothing." - -"And what has been stolen?" asked Lesbia, hesitatingly. - -"Only the cross." - -"Are you sure?" - -"Absolutely! I gave Jenny the note and together with the policeman -who, by the way, is a bucolic idiot, she took me to the bedroom. I -examined the right-hand drawer which was open, as were all the other -drawers, and found that the cross was missing. Jenny declared that -nothing else had been taken. Of course the girl was in a great state -of alarm, as she was the sole person in the house, and she feared lest -she should be accused. Also, and very naturally, she was surprised at -your being away, Walker." - -George nodded. "I daresay. It is rarely that I sleep away from home, -and when I do I give notice. Humph!" he sat down on the grass opposite -Mr. Hale and gripped his ankles. "What do you think, sir?" - -Hale made a vague motion of despair. "What can I think? I know as much -as you do, and nothing more. Would you mind my putting you in the -witness-box, Walker?" - -"By no means. Ask what questions you desire." - -"And I shall be counsel for the defence," said Lesbia, sitting down -beside her lover with rather a wry smile. It appeared to her that Mr. -Hale wished to recall his offer to let the marriage take place: also -that he wished to get George into trouble if he could. But how he -proposed to do so the girl could not tell. However she was anxious and -listened with all her ears. Mr. Hale raised his eyebrows at her odd -speech, but took no further notice of it. He was too much interested -in his examination. - -"Lesbia," said Mr. Hale quietly, "gave you the cross yesterday evening -in my presence, so to speak. What did you do with it?" - -"I slipped it into my breast-pocket," said Walker promptly, "and rowed -back to Medmenham, as you saw. On arriving, I placed it for safety in -the drawer of my dressing-table. Then, later, as I explained at -breakfast, I came down to see Lesbia and was assaulted by an unknown -man." - -"Did you show the cross to anyone, say to Jenny?" - -"No. And if I had shown it to Jenny, it would not have mattered. You -do not suspect an honest girl like her, I presume." - -"Honest girls may yield to the temptation of stealing such a fine -ornament as the cross," said Hale drily. "However, it may set your -mind at rest if I say that I don't suspect Jenny. Had she stolen the -cross, she would not have had the imagination to upset the room and -leave the window open, so as to suggest burglary. But think again, -Walker; did you show the cross to anyone after leaving this garden?" - -"No," said George positively, "I certainly did not, that is, not -voluntarily." - -"Ah! then some one else did see it," said Hale, with satisfaction and -with marked eagerness. "Come, man, speak up." - -"I had almost forgotten," said Walker slowly. "Perhaps the blow on my -head made me forget; but I remember now." - -"Remember what?" asked Lesbia, as eager as her father. - -"That those gipsies saw the cross." - -"Gipsies?" Hale and his daughter glanced at one another. - -"Yes. I was walking up the lane to my home when I passed a gipsy -encampment. While doing so I pulled out my handkerchief, and the -cross--which I had placed in my breast-pocket--fell out. The -handkerchief twitched it, I suppose. It flashed down on the grass, and -the glitter caught the eye of a man lounging near the caravan. He came -forward and pointed out where it had fallen, as I had not noticed its -whereabouts for the moment. By the time I picked it up two or three of -the gipsies had gathered round, and saw me restore it to my pocket. -Then I thanked the man and went home." - -Lesbia clapped her hands. "Why it is perfectly plain," she cried, -delighted. "That man must have assaulted you on the towing-path to -steal the cross. Not finding it on you, he robbed the house. What do -you think, father?" - -Hale nodded. "I think as you do. So the best thing to be done will be -to come and see the constable, or the inspector here in Marlow. We -must have those gipsies searched before they go away. The encampment -was still there this morning; but I saw signs of removal." - -George leaped to his feet. "Yes, it must be so" he cried eagerly. "I -daresay the man robbed me--the cross being flamboyant is just the -thing which would attract him." - -"Then we must see the inspector. I must get the cross back. It is a -pity I remained at Cookham last night with Sargent. Had I been here, I -should have gone at once to Medmenham." - -"But it was midnight, father." - -"I don't care. The mere fact that Walker here was assaulted would have -proved to me that the cross was wanted. Since he left it at home the -thief would probably have burgled the house. I might have caught him -red-handed. Oh, why didn't I come home last night?" - -Mr. Hale was genuinely moved over the loss of the ornament. And yet -Lesbia could not think that it was mere sentimental attachment -thereto, as having belonged to his dead wife, that made him so -downcast. Also in itself the cross was of comparatively little value. -Lesbia's suspicions returned, and again she dismissed them as -unworthy. Moreover, if Hale had assaulted George and had committed a -burglary he would not be so eager to set the police on the track. -Whosoever was guilty he at least must be innocent. Cold as her father -was to her, and little affection as she bore him, it was agreeable to -find that he was honest--though, to be sure, every child expects to -find its parents above reproach. Perhaps a sixth sense told Lesbia -that her father was not all he should be. In no other way could she -guess how she came to be so ready to think ill of him. But up to the -present, she had suspected him wrongly, and so was pleased. - -Hale and young Walker went to the Marlow police-office and explained -in concert what had occurred. The officer in charge of the station -heard their tale unmoved, as it was nothing more exciting than a -robbery by a vagabond. He went with them personally to Medmenham, and -there met the village constable, who presented his report. This did -not include any reference to gipsies. His superior--whose name was -Parson--questioned him, and learned that the thief or thieves had left -no trace behind, and--on the evidence of Jenny the maid--had stolen -nothing save the cross. Parson then went to Mrs. Walker's house and -questioned the girl. - -Jenny was naturally much agitated, but was reassured by George, who -declared that no one suspected her. "I should think not, sir," she -cried, firing up and growing red. "I didn't even know that the cross -you speak of was in the house. You never showed it to me, sir." - -"No," acknowledged Walker truthfully, "I certainly did not." - -"Did you see any of those gipsies lurking about the house?" asked -Parson. - -"No," said Jenny positively, "I did not. Mr. George went out for a -walk at ten o'clock, and I lay down at half-past. I never knew -anything, or heard anything, or guessed anything. When I got up at -seven, as usual, and went to dust the drawing-room, I found the window -open. And that didn't scare me, as I thought Mr. George might have -opened it when he got up." - -"But you knew that he was not in the house?" said Hale alertly. - -"I never did, sir. I went to wake him after I found the drawing-room -window open, and found that he hadn't been to bed. The room was upset -too, just as you saw it. If I'd known that I was alone in the cottage -I should have been scared out of my life; but I thought Mr. George -came in late, and had gone to bed as usual. I nearly fainted, I can -tell you," cried Jenny tearfully. "Fancy a weak girl like me being -left alone with them horrid gipsies down the lane! But I slept through -it all, and I never saw no gipsies about. When I saw the bedroom upset -and that Mr. George wasn't there, I called in Quain the policeman. -That's all I know, and if missus does give me notice when she comes -back I'd have her know that I'm a respectable girl as doesn't rob -anyone." - -Jenny had much more to say on the subject, but all to no purpose; so -the three men went to the camp. They found the vagrants making -preparations to leave, and shortly were in the middle of what promised -to be a free fight. The gipsies were most indignant at being accused, -and but for a certain awe of the police would certainly have come to -blows with those who doubted their honesty. The man who had seen the -cross accounted for his movements on the previous night. He was in the -village public-house until eleven, so could not have assaulted Walker -on the towing-path, and afterwards was in bed in one of the caravans, -as was deposed to by his wife. In fact, every member of this -particular tribe--they were mostly Lovels from the New Forest--proved -that he or she had nothing to do with either the assault or burglary. -Finally, Parson, entirely beaten, departed with the other two men, and -the gipsies proceeded to move away in a high state of indignation. - -"Do you really think that they are innocent?" asked Hale, who surveyed -the procession of outgoing caravans with a frown. - -"Yes, I do," said Parson, who was not going to be taught his business -by any civilian. - -"So do I," struck in Walker. "All the men who saw the cross have -accounted for their whereabouts last night. They were not near my -mother's house, nor across the river on the towing-path." - -Hale smiled drily. He had no opinion of Walker's intelligence, or of -that which Mr. Parson possessed. "Rogues and vagabonds--as these -people are--stand by one another, and will swear to anything to keep -one of their number out of gaol. I don't put much faith in the various -alibis. You should have searched the caravans, officer." - -"And the men and women also, I suppose, sir," said Parson quietly. "I -had no warrant to do so, let me remind you. Even gipsies have their -privileges under the English law. Also, if anyone of these men were -guilty, he could easily have passed the cross to one of the women, or -buried it. I might have searched and found nothing, only to lay myself -open to a lecture from my superiors." - -"Still," began Hale, unwilling to surrender his point of view, "let me -remind you, Mr. Parson, that----" - -"And let me remind you, sir," broke in the officer stiffly, "that only -this ornament you speak of was stolen. If a gipsy had broken into the -house he would certainly have taken other things. And again, no gipsy -could have carried Mr. Walker into your parlour, seeing that not one -member of the tribe is aware of your existence, much less where your -cottage is situated. I am ignorant on that score myself." - -Having thus delivered himself with some anger, for the supercilious -demeanour of Hale irritated him, Parson strode away. He intimated -curtly to the two men, as he turned on his heel, that if he heard of -anything likely to elucidate the mystery he would communicate with -them: also he advised them if they found a clue to see him. - -Hale laughed at this last request. "I fancy I see myself placing the -case in the hands of such a numskull." - -George shook his head. "If you do not employ the police, who is to -look into the matter?" he asked gravely. - -The answer was unexpected. - -"You are," said Hale, coldly and decisively. - -George stopped--they were walking back to Marlow when this -conversation took place--and stared in amazement at his companion. -"Why, I am the very worst person in the world to help you," he said, -aghast. - -"To help yourself, you mean. Remember I promised to consent to your -marriage to Lesbia only on condition that I got back the cross." - -"It is not my fault that the cross is lost." - -"I never said that it was," retorted Hale, tartly. "All the same you -will have to find it and return it to me before I will agree to your -marriage with my daughter. It would have been much better had you -handed it over to me last night." - -"I daresay," said George, somewhat sulkily, "but I'm not the man to -give up anything when the demand is made in such a tone as you used. -Besides, I don't see how I can find the cross." - -"Please yourself, my boy. But unless you do, Lesbia marries Sargent." - -"Sargent!" The blood rushed to Walker's cheeks and his voice shook -with indignation. "Do you mean to say that you would give your -daughter to that broken rake, to that worn-out---- - -"Ta! Ta! Ta!" said Hale, in an airy French fashion, and glad to see -the young man lose his temper. "Sargent is my very good friend and was -my brother officer when I was in the army. He would make Lesbia an -excellent husband, as he is handsome and well-off and amiable, -and----" - -"And an idiot, a gambler, and a----" - -"You'd better not let him hear you talk like that." - -Walker laughed. "I fear no one, let me tell you, Mr. Hale. Mr. Sargent -or Captain Sargent as he calls himself----" - -"He has every right to call himself so. He was a captain." - -"It is not usually thought good manners to continue the title after a -man has left the army," said George drily, and recovering his temper, -which he saw he should never have lost with a hardened man like Hale. -"You, for instance, do not call yourself----" - -"There! There! that's enough, Walker," cried the elder man -impatiently. "You know my terms. That cross and my consent: otherwise -Lesbia marries Sargent." - -"She loves me: she will never obey you," cried the lover desperately. - -"I shall find means to compel her consent," said Hale coldly. "Surely, -Mr. Walker, you have common sense at your age. Sargent has money and a -certain position you have neither." - -"I can make a position." - -"Then go and do so. When you are rich and highly-placed we can talk." - -Hale was as hard as iron and as cold. There seemed to be no chance of -getting what was wanted by appealing to his tender feelings, since he -had none whatsoever. But after swift reflection Walker thought of -something which might make the man change his mind. - -"Listen, Mr. Hale," he said, when Lesbia's father was on the point of -moving away from a conversation which he found unprofitable and -disagreeable. "I did not intend to tell you, but as my engagement with -Lesbia is at stake I will make a clean breast of it." - -Hale wheeled round with a cold light in his eyes. "Are you going to -confess that you stole the cross and got up a comedy to hide the -theft?" - -George laughed. "I am not clever enough for that. But it is about a -possible fortune that I wish to speak--one that may come to me through -my mother." - -"A fortune." Hale flushed, for only the mention of money could touch -his hard nature. "I never knew that your mother had money." - -"She has not now, but she may have." - -"Go on," said Hale, seeing that the young man hesitated, and watching -him with glittering eyes. "I have known your mother for years, but she -never told me either that she had money or expected any." - -"I should not tell you either," said Walker bluntly, "and so I -hesitated. I have no business to interfere with my mother's affairs. -However, I must speak since I want to marry Lesbia." - -"I am all attention." - -"My grandfather left his large fortune equally divided between his two -daughters. One was my mother; and her husband, my father, ran through -the lot, leaving her only a trifle to live on. I help to keep her." - -"This," said Hale coldly, "I already know." - -"But what you don't know is that my aunt--my mother's sister, that is, -ran away with some unknown person during her father's lifetime. He was -angry, but forgave her on his death-bed and left her a fair share of -the money--that is half. As my mother inherited fifty thousand, there -is an equal amount in the hands of Mr. Simon Jabez, a lawyer in -Lincoln's Inn Fields, waiting for my aunt should she ever come back." - -"And if she does not?" asked Hale anxiously. - -"Then, if her death can be proved, the money comes to my mother." - -"Humph! But you say your aunt ran away with someone--to marry the man, -I suppose. What if there is a child?" - -Walker's face fell. "The child inherits," he said softly. - -Hale laughed harshly. "You have found a mare's nest," he said coolly, -"and I see no reason to change my decision with regard to your -possible marriage with Lesbia. Your aunt may be alive and may appear -to claim the money. If she is dead, her child or children may come -forward. On the other hand, if your mother does come in for the fifty -thousand pounds you speak of she is, as I know, a hard woman." - -"I agree with you," said the young man, moodily and sadly. "She -is as hard as you are, Mr. Hale. But if she inherits my grandfather's -money--that is, my aunt's share--she has no one to leave it to but me. -I am an only child." - -"Your mother," said Hale deliberately, "is hard as you say; that is, -she is as sensible as I am. If you marry against her will, she will -not leave you one farthing of this money, which, after all, may never -come into her possession." - -"But why should she object to Lesbia?" asked George, "when she meets -her and sees how lovely she is----" - -"Bah!" Hale looked scornful, "you talk like a fool. As if any woman -was ever moved by the beauty of another woman. Besides, your mother -hates me; we are old enemies, and rather than see you marry my -daughter she would go to your funeral with joy. If you married against -her will--as you assuredly would in making Lesbia your wife--she would -leave you nothing. And I also dislike the match on account of your -mother." - -"But why are you her enemy, and she yours?" asked George, bewildered. - -"That is a long story and one which I do not intend to relate unless -driven to speak. If Lesbia marries you she will lose two thousand a -year which I can give her when I die. If you want to drag the girl you -love down to poverty, Mr. Walker, then marry her secretly. I tell you -that if you make Lesbia your wife neither I nor your mother will help -you." - -"And yet you said----" - -"That you could make Lesbia your wife, if you found the cross. Yes, I -did say that, and I still say it. If you get me the cross, you shall -marry her and have the two thousand a year when I die. But it would be -wiser for you to leave Lesbia alone and marry----" - -"Marry whom?" asked George, his cheeks flaming. - -"Maud Ellis," retorted Hale with a sneering laugh, and turned away. - - - - -CHAPTER V -MRS. WALKER'S OPINION - - -After that one extraordinary adventure which broke so remarkably the -monotony of George Walker's life, things went very smoothly for a -time. That is, they progressed in their usual humdrum way, which was -trying to the young man's ambitious spirits. He wanted to marry -Lesbia, to make a home for her, to attain a position, which her beauty -would adorn; and he saw no means of doing so. He went regularly to the -office, earned his small salary, and dreamed dreams which could never -be realised, at least, there appeared to be no chance of realisation. -What could a man of moderate attainments, with no money and no -friends, hope to do in the way of cutting a figure in the world? - -Mrs. Walker duly returned home, and Jenny gave her a highly-coloured -account of the burglary, which she heard in stern silence. She was a -tall, grim woman with a hard face and a stiff manner, and was -invariably arrayed in plain black gowns devoid of any trimming -whatever. Her hair, still dark in spite of her age, was smoothed over -her temples in the plain early Victorian manner, and her pale -countenance was as smooth as that of a young girl. That she was a -gentlewoman could easily be seen, but her manner was repellent and -suspicious. Also, her thin lips and hard grey eyes did not invite -sympathy. How such a Puritanical person ever came to have a handsome, -gracious son such as George, perplexed more than one person. The -general opinion was that he inherited his looks and his charm of -manner from his late father. Report credited the Honourable Aylmer -Walker with more fascination than principle. And truth to tell, his -posthumous reputation was better than that which he had enjoyed when -living. - -Having ascertained the facts of the burglary and the loss of the -amethyst cross, Mrs. Walker held her peace, and did not discuss the -subject with her son. George, indeed, ventured upon a lame -explanation, which she received in dead silence. After the hint given -by Mr. Hale, the young man was not desirous of disclosing his -engagement to Lesbia, and a discussion about the stolen cross would -inevitably lead to the truth becoming known to Mrs. Walker. Sooner or -later he knew that he would have to speak, but he postponed doing so -until he could see his future more clearly. If he could only procure a -better post in the City, he could then afford to keep Lesbia in -comparative comfort, and pass a love-in-a-cottage existence. But until -he was in a position to do so, he avoided confiding in his mother. -Also, Mrs. Walker was not a sympathetic mother, and would certainly -not have encouraged the young man's love-dream. - -But one evening Mrs. Walker unexpectedly broached the subject at -dinner. This was seven days after the adventure of the cross, and -during that time George had never set eyes on Lesbia. Several times he -had rowed as usual to the garden's foot, but had waited in vain for -the girl's appearance. An inquiry at the house provoked no response, -as neither Tim nor Lesbia came to the fast-closed door. George in -despair had written, but to his anxious letter had received no reply. -Lesbia remained silent and the cottage barred and bolted, so George -began to believe that Hale had smuggled away his daughter, lest she -should elope with the lover of whom he so strongly disapproved. This -state of uncertainty wore Walker's nerves thin, and he lost his -appetite and his night's rest. Mechanically he went to Tait's office, -did his daily work, and returned home again, fretting all the time -after the girl who was beyond his reach. He even tried to see Mr. -Hale, but that gentleman was conspicuous by his absence. Never was a -lover in so dismal a situation. - -On this especial evening George, in evening dress, faced his silent -mother at the dinner-table. Mrs. Walker wore a plain black silk gown, -perfectly cut, but wholly unadorned. Like Mr. Hale, she always -insisted upon a certain style being observed and dined, so to speak, -in state. The tiny room was well furnished with the remnants of her -former prosperity, and looked like the abode of a gentlewoman. Nothing -could have been more perfect than the table appointments and, if the -food was plain, the way in which it was served left nothing to be -desired. Jenny, neatly dressed, waited deftly and, at the conclusion -of the dinner, placed a decanter of port before George, along with a -silver box of cigarettes and a dainty silver spirit lamp. - -As a rule, Mrs. Walker withdrew at this moment to enjoy her coffee in -the drawing-room, while George sipped his wine and trifled with a -cigarette, but on this occasion she remained. "You can bring my coffee -here," she said to Jenny, in her unemotional voice. - -George wondered at this departure from the usual routine, for his -mother had never broken the domestic rule she had instituted as far -back as he could remember. However, he did not feel called upon to say -anything but poured out a glass of port, and lighted a cigarette. When -Mrs. Walker obtained her coffee, and Jenny had departed, she spoke to -her son through the gathering twilight. - -"I have received a letter from Mr. Hale," said Mrs. Walker in her -coldest voice, and sat bolt upright with her eyes on the comely blonde -face of her son. - -"What!" George flushed and started, and laughed nervously. "That is -very strange," he said after a pause, "Mr. Hale has never written to -you before." - -"There are reasons why he should not have written to me before, as -there are reasons why he writes to me now." - -"May I know those reasons?" asked George quietly, but inwardly -anxious. - -"Certainly!" Mrs. Walker was disagreeable but excessively polite, as -she never forgot her manners, whatever the provocation. "In fact, I -have waited to explain them. But I think you had better tell me your -story first." - -"What story?" - -"That of your engagement to Lesbia Hale, and of the cross which was -stolen from this cottage." - -"What!" George rose restlessly and grew redder than ever. "You -know----" - -"I know everything," said his mother imperiously. "Mr. Hale is annoyed -by the way in which you are haunting his Marlow cottage, and has asked -me to use my influence with you to stop the annoyance." - -"That is quite likely," rejoined George, fuming, "but I decline to -give up Lesbia. Mr. Hale knows that." - -"He knows, apparently, that you are obstinate and foolish," said Mrs. -Walker in a chilly manner. "And as your infatuation--for it is nothing -else--can lead to nothing, I must ask you to stop these hopeless -visits." - -"Mother, if you knew Lesbia----" - -"I know that Lesbia is the daughter of a man whom I despise and hate," -said Mrs. Walker, moved to cold anger, "and my son shall never marry -her." - -"You have not the power to stop the marriage," said George quietly. - -"That is quite true. I have no money to threaten disinheritance, and -no legal power over a man who is of age. I might indeed appeal to your -affection, but I fear that it would be useless." - -George flung his cigarette out of the window, and thrust his hands -moodily into his pockets. "Affection is a strange word to use between -us, mother," he remarked bitterly. "You have always been strict and -straightforward, and painfully polite. You have given me a good -education, and you have instructed me in good manners. My home," he -looked round, "or rather your home, you permit me to share." - -"Pardon me, George, you forget that you contribute to the domestic -economy of this home, such as it is. Go on." - -"I mean," cried George desperately, for her manner chilled him, "that -you have never been a mother to me in the accepted sense of the word." - -"I have done my duty," said Mrs. Walker without flinching. - -"Duty! duty! what is duty when I wanted love? I have lived in a -freezing atmosphere which has nearly changed me into a statue. Can you -wonder that I sought out someone to love?" - -"Perhaps not, since you are young and foolish, but I regret that the -someone should be a girl that I cannot possibly receive as my -daughter-in-law." - -"What do you mean by that?" demanded George sharply. - -"Nothing detrimental to the girl," replied Mrs. Walker calmly. "She -may have all the beauty in the world, and all the virtues, and -probably has, in your eyes, but she is Walter Hale's daughter and so -cannot be mine." - -"Why do you hate Mr. Hale, mother?" - -"That," said Mrs. Walker, sitting very upright, "is my private -business." - -"But when it interferes with my happiness----" - -"I cannot help that," she said rigorously. "What is past is past, and -what is dead is dead." - -"I don't understand you." - -"I do not mean that you should. But I would point out that your -association with this girl, has already led you into danger. You have -been assaulted and robbed, and have come into contact with the police, -which is always undesirable. Renounce Lesbia, George, lest worse -befall." - -"The robbery and the assault are mysteries." - -"None the less they are dangerous. I can explain no more than you can; -but Mr. Hale is a dangerous person, to my knowledge, and----" - -"Tell me what you know," interpolated her son. - -"No," said Mrs. Walker, with iron determination. "It would do no good -to break the silence of years. All I can say is that you shall never -marry the girl with my consent." - -"And if I do without it," chafed George, irritably. "Then you will -never set eyes on me again," returned Mrs. Walker quietly. - -"Mother!" - -The woman calmly finished her coffee and rose noiselessly. "The time -may come when I can explain," she said in her precise voice. -"Meanwhile I can only command you, or implore you--whichever you -please--to leave this girl alone and go no more to the Marlow -cottage." - -"I don't see why I should obey you blindly," cried George angrily. "At -least give me a reason for your objection to Lesbia." - -"I have given it: she is the daughter of Walter Hale." - -"And are the sins of the father--whatever they may be--to be visited -upon the child, mother?" - -"Quoting the Bible will not alter my determination," said Mrs. Walker, -absolutely cold and impassive. "You must do as I request or be -prepared to see me no more." - -"Mother, can you not explain about this mysterious cross----" - -"No." - -"You refuse to." - -"I mean that I cannot. I know nothing about the cross, or about the -assault made on you, or indeed about the burglary. All I do know is -that Mr. Hale is a dangerous man, and is connected with dangerous -people--what has occurred proves it." - -"But surely you don't think that Mr. Hale is connected with these -mysteries?" - -"I think nothing because I know nothing!" She moved swiftly forward -and placed a slim hand on her son's broad shoulder. "Be wise and give -up this girl. The wife who is waiting for you will suit you better." - -George grew crimson. "The wife!" he stammered. - -"Maud Ellis! Mr. Tait's niece. She loves you, and she has told me so. -If you marry her she will bring you money, and her uncle will forward -your interests. To-morrow you are stopping for the week-end at Mr. -Tait's house. Before you return here on Monday ask Maud to be your -wife." - -"I shall do nothing of the sort," said George fiercely. "How can I -propose to one girl, when I love another?" - -"Maud Ellis adores you, George." - -"I know she does: it seems conceited to say so, but I am quite aware -of her adoration. And I don't like it. She is rich and handsome and -all the rest of it, and a marriage with her, means my getting on in -the office. All the same, I--I--I--" he hesitated, then finished his -sentence with a rush, "I love Lesbia, so there is no more to be said." - -Mrs. Walker removed her hand and glided to the door again, her cold -self. "I quite agree with you," she said, exasperatingly cool. -"However, you know my determination. Act as you please." - -"And affection?" called out George as she opened the door. - -"Must give way to commonsense." - -When alone, the young man dropped into a chair and looked moodily at -the disordered dinner-table. He was very much to be pitied for having -such a mother. Of a warm affectionate nature, George hungered for some -object upon which to expend his love. Mrs. Walker had always been a -granite image, unapproachable and chill. No doubt she was fond of her -handsome son in her own cold way, but she had never given him the -maternal love he craved for. It was small wonder that the boy had gone -afield to find some satisfaction for his craving. Lesbia supplied the -want, and on her side found the same joy as her lover in their mutual -affection. Mr. Hale in his way was as cold and repellent to her as -Mrs. Walker was to her son. Yet these two people, not giving the -longed-for love themselves to their children, were trying to rob -hungry hearts of spiritual sustenance--a dog-in-a-manger attitude -which did not commend itself to George. - -He felt that he and Lesbia were severely alone, conscious only of each -other and environed by mysteries, which neither could understand. Mr. -Hale could explain, and so could Mrs. Walker, but no explanation was -volunteered, and George did not know where to look for an elucidation -of their several attitudes. Mrs. Walker certainly professed herself -ignorant of the amethyst cross mystery, and apparently spoke truly, as -her dislike to the match with Lesbia appeared to be wholly based upon -her hatred of Walter Hale. And that hatred had to do with Hale's past, -of which George knew as little as he did of the past of his mother. -But Hale knew something about the cross, which accounted for his -extraordinary behaviour, although he declared that he did not know who -had stolen it. George was also greatly perplexed to know who had taken -him to the Marlow cottage while he was insensible. Sitting in the -chair with his eyes on the ground, he frowningly perplexed himself -with these problems. It was all of no use, so he brushed aside the -troubles and, after changing his evening dress for boating flannels, -went to the river. He hoped by exercise to rid himself of these -phantoms, so indistinct and yet so real. - -Having launched his boat and settled to work, George spun down the -stream, the current and his own efforts carrying him along with what -appeared to be lightning speed. The attention required in looking -after the slight craft prevented his thinking of his mysterious -troubles, and his spirits began to rise. At Henley lock his course was -stayed, for as he swung into the gates he became aware that another -boat was in the lock, and that Tim occupied that same strange shallop. - -The two men recognised one another at once, and a very natural -question leaped to Walker's lips. - -"Lesbia?" he gasped. - -"Thrue for ye," grumbled Tim, who looked more misshapen that ever in -the dim light. "It's from the young mistress I come. Whist now, sor, -an' let me clear out av this divil of a place." - -George backed his boat out of the lock and Tim muttering under his -breath, followed closely. Then the little man paddled his clumsy craft -into the near bank, and beckoned George to come also. In a few minutes -the two boats were amongst the rustling sedges side by side, and -Walker waited breathlessly for Tim to speak. - -The sky was filling with shadows, but there was sufficient light for -George to see that Tim looked both sorrowful and worried. The sight of -the dwarfs sad face revived his terrors. - -"Lesbia," cried George again, and gripped Tim's arm fiercely. "She is -well?" - -"Well in body but sick of heart," said Tim dismally. "Augh, the poor -mistress, and how can she be well wid the divil's divarsions bein' -played round her?" - -"I have tried to see her----" - -"Divil a doubt of it, sor. And ye've sint letthers likewise." - -"She never answered," breathed George sadly. - -"An' how cud she whin she nivir recaved thim same. Answer me that now, -sor." - -George sat bolt upright in his boat. "Never got my letters! Then -how----" - -"Ah, be aisy now, me dear young masther," pleaded Tim, and took a tiny -note from his pocket. "This was all the mistress cud write, being -watched like a mouse, an' by a cat too, divil take the slut." - -George scarcely heard what Tim was saying. He was devouring two or -three lines of Lesbia's dear writing, which stated that she would -always be true to him, and that Tim would reveal all. - -"Reveal what," cried the young man, kissing the letter before -transferring it to his pocket. - -"The divil's divarsions," grumbled Tim. "Write an answer, sor." - -"I have no pencil, no paper," said George in dismay. "But tell me -exactly what has occurred, Tim, and then I'll see what can be done." - -Tim nodded. "Sure, it's dying for you she is, me dear sor. The masther -wants her to marry the Captain, bad luck to his sowl!" - -"I know that, but----" - -"Howld yer whist, sor," growled the little man, flinging up his long -arm. "I have mighty little time to spake. The masther doesn't trust -me, forby he knows I wish to see me dear mistress happy wid you, sor, -so he's got a she-divil in the house, Mrs. Petty by name, who kapes a -watch inside. Thin there's Captain Sargent's man. The Shadow they call -him for his thin looks, though Canning is his name, bad luck to it. He -watches outside, an' whin your boat comes in sight he passes the worrd -to Mrs. Petty an' she--may the father av lies fly away wid her--shuts -Miss Lesbia in her room." - -"But this is tyranny!" cried George, exasperated. "Do you mean to say -that Mr. Hale has his daughter watched in this manner?" - -"Ay an' I do, and he'll have her watched till she goes to church wid -Captain Sargent, or until ye git back that crass. But nivir fear, sor, -Miss Lesbia has a fine spirit of her own, and she'll stick to ye -through thick an' thin, like the brave young lady she is." - -"What's to be done?" asked George, in dismay. - -Tim leaned forward. "Write a bit av a letther and sind it to me, -Mister Timothy Burke, Rose Cottage, Marlow. Thim two divils, Mrs. -Petty an' The Shadow, to say nothin' av the masther, won't stop that. -Thin I'll find means to pass it to the mistress." - -"Yes! Yes, Tim. I'll do that. But the tyranny----" - -"Whist now, for time passes, me dear sor. I heard the masther sayin' -that Captain Sargent was goin' to stay wid Mr. Tait at Hinley. Spake -to him, sor, to that same Captain." - -"But what can I say?" demanded George, more and more perplexed. - -"Sor," cried Tim gruffly, "as ye're a man ye can break the head of the -divil." And with this advice Tim pushed his boat again into midstream. - - - - -CHAPTER VI -PURPLE AND FINE LINEN - - -Mr. Michael Tait dealt principally in stocks and shares, but was not -above any scheme, however wild or however shady, which promised to -result in large profits. His motto was: "Make money honestly if you -can, but make money!" and he consistently acted up to this advice -throughout a long career of speculation. He was not so much a spider -sitting in a web to lure unwary flies, as an octopus who stretched out -tentacles in every direction to draw victims into his maw. He indulged -in dozens of enterprises, both openly and secretly, but all with the -aim of making as much cash as possible. That many of these schemes led -to much misery, that is, the misery of other people, he never stopped -to inquire. And even if he had done so he would have taken no note of -the answer. The race was to the swift and the battle to the strong, in -Mr. Tait's humble opinion, and those who failed either in fighting or -running had to make the best of their plight. - -In appearance Michael Tait was a squat, burly, sturdy man, with sandy -hair and whiskers, and a pair of cold blue eyes devoid of all -sympathy. He dressed expensively, wore a profusion of jewellery, and -was rarely without an excellent cigar sticking out of his mouth. For -the sake of luring his victims he cultivated a jolly, free and easy -manner, and exhibited an external good nature which deceived many. To -quote Tennyson's cutting line, he "snake-like slimed his victim e'er -he gorged," and acted the Pharisee by largely advertising his -charities. He was looked upon generally as a good fellow, rough, but -really kind-hearted, and possessed of a true Christian spirit. As a -matter of fact, Mr. Tait knew very little of Christ and His teaching, -and would not have subscribed to it, save by word of mouth, had he -been aware of its spirit. But he passed as a good man, because he went -to church and talked largely of helping the poor. - -This prop of British commerce, as he was wrongly described by a too -ardent reporter, possessed a regal country house at Henley, where he -entertained largely. Also he had chambers in town, but these he only -used on rare occasions when business or pleasure prevented him seeking -his true home. Mrs. Tait had mercifully passed away many years -previously, under the delusion that Michael was a good man, and the -Henley mansion was managed by Maud Ellis, who was the stockbroker's -niece. - -Miss Ellis was a young lady of five-and-twenty, certainly not -bad-looking, although she could not be described as beautiful. Like -her respectable uncle, she was of the sandy type, but, unlike him, she -possessed a tall, full figure, finely-shaped. As she always dressed in -exquisite taste, and had a personality of the semi-hypnotic kind, she -was regarded as a desirable woman. The fact that she was her uncle's -heiress also may have had something to do with this opinion. Maud was -extremely cunning, and as selfish in her way as Michael was in his. He -sought money, she admiration, and they did very well in their efforts -to attract both. And it was this clever young woman who had chosen to -fall in love with George Walker. - -Of course she knew that he was a bad match, that he did not love her, -and that as his wife she would hold no very exalted position. But the -fact was that the girl, after playing with various suitors, like the -princess of a fairy tale, with no serious intentions, had been snared -herself. Whether it was Walker's good looks, or his kind heart, or his -charm of manner, it is impossible to say; perhaps one of the three, -perhaps the three together: but Miss Ellis assuredly was violently in -love with the young man. Having arrived at the conclusion that life -would be miserable without him, she set to work to make him propose, -thinking that she would have small difficulty. - -To her surprise, however, George proved to be quite impervious to her -sparkling conversation and clever display of her somewhat limited -charms. He was polite to her and nothing more, although she made her -uncle ask him again and again to the palace at Henley. This conduct -piqued Miss Ellis, but did not altogether displease her, as it gave -her an opportunity of exercising her talent for intrigue. - -From a mere fancy, her passion deepened to ardent love, and she swore -mentally that by hook or by crook she would force the young fellow to -make her Mrs. Walker. Rarely a week passed without George being asked -to Henley, and Maud did her best to subjugate him. But George being in -love with Lesbia had a very strong shield to oppose to her love darts, -and managed to avoid the amorous pitfalls she spread for him. For six -months the chase of this unwilling victim had been going on, and as -the quarry always dodged just as the huntress was on the verge of -capture, this middle-class Diana concluded that there was another -woman in the case. With a view to learning the truth, she watched and -made stealthy inquiries, so that she speedily learned of George's -infatuation--so she called it--for Lesbia Hale. To detach him from -Lesbia became the object of her life, and it was she who suggested to -Mr. Hale that Lesbia might profitably marry Captain Alfred Sargent. - -As Hale approved of Maud's cleverness, and was frequently indebted to -her for getting what he wanted from Tait, he did his best to fall in -with her plans, the more so, as he did not care whom his daughter -married, provided it was to his interest. - -Maud promised, if the marriage was brought about, to interest her -uncle in a wild-cat scheme of Hale's contrivance. So the loving father -did his best--as has been seen--to force his child into the arms of a -man she loathed. George knew nothing of all this intrigue, and kept -away from the Henley mansion as much as he could without openly -offending his employer. But when he heard from Tim that Captain -Sargent was to be a member of the Saturday to Monday house-party, he -determined to accept this latest invitation. An interview with Sargent -might clear the air of all these mysteries, and George--hating the -ex-captain--was not averse from breaking his head as Tim had advised, -if there was no other way of releasing Lesbia. Also George fancied -that Mr. Hale--a frequent visitor--might be enjoying Mr. Tait's -hospitality, in which case he could speak to him and remonstrate about -this tyranny to which Lesbia was subjected. - -When George arrived in time for afternoon tea on Saturday, he found -that his own hopes and those of Tim were realised--that is, both -Walter Hale and Captain Sargent were present. Hale looked as lean and -grim and smart as ever, while greeting the flushed young man with the -air of a perfect stranger. Maud, who presided at a dainty tea-table, -saw that flush, and from the juxtaposition of Hale guessed its reason. -She was therefore none too pleased, but veiling her annoyance with a -sweet smile, she called the new arrival over to her side, and poured -him out a cup of tea. - -"You are quite a stranger, Mr. Walker," she said graciously, devouring -him with her cold, grey eyes, which only lighted up when they rested -on his face. - -"I was here three weeks ago," said George politely, and accepting -cake. "It would rather bore Mr. Tait if I came here oftener." - -"It would never bore me," breathed Miss Ellis, "and my uncle is always -very glad to see you. He looks upon you almost as his son." - -George flushed again and looked awkward. "It is very kind of Mr. -Tait," he remarked coldly, "seeing that I am only a clerk in his -office." - -"Uncle was only a clerk once," said Maud, smiling. "And look what he -is now, Mr. Walker. Some day you will be like him." - -"I don't think so," said George, looking across to the stout, -ungraceful form of the successful stockbroker, who was being waited -upon hand and foot by two society ladies of the smart set, anxious to -secure tips. - -Maud took his remark in its wrong sense. "Oh, you must hope," she -declared playfully. "With influence," she spoke meaningly, "you will -do much." - -"I have no influence," returned the young man coldly. - -"That is your own fault," retorted Miss Ellis. "The tide of fortune is -flowing past your door, and you will not launch your boat." - -"I am waiting for a passenger," said Walker, thinking of Lesbia. - -Jealous and cunning as she was, Maud was quite taken in for the -moment, and smiled graciously. She fancied that he referred to her. -"You need not wait long," she hinted. - -George found the situation intolerable, and on the spur of the moment, -although it was neither the time nor the place to be confidential, he -spoke out. There should be no further misunderstandings if he could -help it. "My waiting depends upon Mr. Hale," he said bluntly. - -Maud bit her thin lip, and leaned back, with an artificial laugh. -Inwardly she was furious, as she now knew that his remark had referred -to "that girl," as she contemptuously called Lesbia. But she was too -much the woman of the world to reveal her feelings and, moreover, -utilised his observation to learn as much of the truth as possible. - -"Ah," she said archly, "a little bird told me that Mr. Hale has a -beautiful daughter. But I understood that she was engaged to Captain -Sargent." - -"She is engaged to me," flashed out George, quite forgetting that he -was speaking to a jealous woman. - -"Ah!" said Miss Ellis again, controlling her countenance with -difficulty; "the course of true love is not running smoothly. Poor Mr. -Walker, I must help you to gain your wife." - -"You!" blurted out George like a fool. - -Maud sat up and erected her crest like a snake. "Yes, I," she said -haughtily, anxious only for the moment to save her womanly pride. "Why -should I not help a friend? I look on you almost as a brother." - -Still like a fool, George believed her, and indeed her indignant -manner would have deceived a much cleverer man. He was very young and -very green, and in Maud's designing hands could be moulded like wax. - -She could have struck him in the face for the insult he had offered -her, but hiding her rage under a friendly smile, she laid her plans to -entrap him beyond hope of escape. "I shall get Mr. Hale to bring his -daughter here," she said quietly, "and then you can talk to her at -your leisure." - -"Oh, how good you are," cried George delightedly. "I am sure you will -love Lesbia: she is so beautiful and charming--as you are," he added -with an afterthought. - -Again the impulse came to Maud to strike him, and again her worldly -training came to her aid. "Hush!" she said softly, "you will make -Captain Sargent jealous. I believe he overheard." - -"I don't care if he did," said Walker defiantly. - -"Then I do," retorted Miss Ellis, who could not resist paying him out -a trifle, much as she loved him. "I don't want you to quarrel here. -Now go and talk to Captain Sargent while I receive these new people." - -Several ladies and two gentlemen entered at the moment, and she went -forward to greet them, followed by her uncle. George left the chair he -had occupied near the tea-table, and strolled across the room--not to -Sargent, but to interview Mr. Hale. - -That gentleman saw him coming, and moved away from the person to whom -he was speaking, in order to find a secluded corner. He saw that his -would-be son-in-law was coming to converse with him, and guessing the -subject of his conversation, wished to settle the matter without -scandal. George, as he surmised, was too frank to be diplomatic, and -if within the hearing of others, might say too much. But he need not -have been afraid. George, having been schooled in social usages, by -his mother, was perfectly capable of acting as a well-bred man. - -"I have called twice or thrice to see Lesbia," said George, sinking -his voice to a judicious whisper, "but I have not been successful." - -"That is as it should be," rejoined Mr. Hale coldly. "I do not wish -her to see you, and I have taken steps to prevent her from seeing -you." - -It was on the point of George's tongue to say that he knew what -precautions had been taken, but to speak openly would lead to the -betrayal of Tim, which was not to be thought of. However, he was as -blunt as he dared to be. "It is tyranny to keep a young girl shut up," -he snapped angrily. - -"You are the cause of her seclusion," retorted the elder man, "and as -her father I have a right to act as I please." - -"There are law and order in this country," said Walker heatedly, and -would have continued to speak with vehemence, but that Hale prevented -him. - -"You are right, and I take advantage of such law and order to prevent -my daughter from marrying a man I disapprove of." - -"Why do you object to me?" - -"We discussed that before and I gave you my answer. Also, if you will -remember, I gave you a chance of having things your own way. It is my -desire that Lesbia should marry my friend Sargent, but if you will -recover that lost cross for me, I will permit her marriage with you." - -"I can't find the cross," growled George sullenly. - -"Then you can't marry Lesbia," replied Hale, very distinctly, "and as -you are forcing me to curtail Lesbia's liberty by haunting the house, -I must ask you, in her interests if not in mine, to discontinue your -persecution." - -George looked at the cold grim face before him, very straightly. "I -love Lesbia, and I intend to marry Lesbia," he said quietly. -"Therefore I shall do all in my power to see Lesbia. As to Captain -Sargent----" - -"Hullo!" remarked that gentleman, who was strolling--perhaps -purposely--within ear-shot. "What about Captain Sargent?" - -He was a slim, thin, delicate-looking man of the -mutton-dressed-as-lamb type, that is, he did not look his age, and -affected a pronouncedly juvenile fashion, a trifle over-done. His -collars were too high, his ties were too brilliant, and his clothes -were aggressively new. To look at his array he might have just left an -army-crammer's, and had apparently stopped short at "the young -lieutenant" epoch, which is the era of the male peacock. As to his -looks, these were of the colourless faded type; his face was pale, his -eyes were pale, and his hair--what there was of it--was also pale. In -fact, Sargent looked like a sheet of paper prepared for sketching, and -could have painted upon the background of himself any character he -wished to represent, provided it was not a strong one. The contrast -between his washed out personality and young Walker's vivid virility -was most marked. - -"What about Captain Sargent?" repeated this product of civilisation, a -trifle more aggressively since George hesitated to speak. "Finish what -you have to say, Mr. Walker." - -"Certainly," replied the younger man coolly. "I am the more willing, -as Mr. Hale is present. In a word, Captain Sargent, I love Miss Lesbia -Hale, and I intend to marry her. You wish to make her your wife, and I -do not intend to let you have your way." - -"All that in a word," sneered the captain, with a disagreeable look in -his pale grey eyes. - -"Yes. In a word to the wise." - -"And suppose I am not wise?" - -"It matters very little to me if you are wise or not," retorted -George, who was not to be put down by sneers. "Lesbia is to marry me, -so that is all about it." - -Sargent glanced at Mr. Hale, who was quite unruffled. "I presume her -father's wish counts for something?" - -"Not when it conflicts with her happiness." - -"What do you say, Hale?" - -"I have said all that I intend to say. Walker knows my views." - -"He does," broke in George, "and he does not subscribe to them. I give -you warning that I intend to marry Lesbia. As to you, sir," he turned -so fiercely on Sargent that the man gave back a step. "If you make -Lesbia unhappy, or bother her in any way, I shall make myself very -unpleasant." - -"Dear me!" sneered the captain in feigned alarm. "What a terrible -Turk!" - -George stared coldly at his rival, and deliberately turned on his heel -without speaking further. He had declared open war, and he was pleased -that he had done so. Now--with a clear conscience--he could haunt the -Marlow cottage and see Lesbia and woo Lesbia and carry off Lesbia, -without feeling that he was acting otherwise than as a gentleman and -an ardent lover. "Damn the fellow!" breathed Sargent, who had reddened -under Walker's contemptuous gaze. "What's to be done, Hale?" - -"Nothing," rejoined that gentleman sternly. "If you find that cross, -you can marry Lesbia; if Walker finds it, he can make her his wife." - -It was a pity that George did not overhear this speech. He would have -been interested to hear that Sargent also was seeking for the -mysterious ornament to which Hale appeared to attach such value. The -captain looked at his friend curiously. "Why do you want this cross so -much?" he asked. - -"That's my business. What you have to do is to find it;" and in his -turn Mr. Hale went away, leaving Sargent caressing his moustache in -some perplexity. - -Presently, everyone went to dinner, which was a banquet delicately -cooked and splendidly served. Tait was quite devoted to the pleasures -of the table, and paid his chef a large salary. The food was perfect -and the wines flowed freely, so that by the time the guests repaired -to the drawing-room, everyone was in the best of spirits. The -house-party was a large one, as there were about twenty people -present, and not one of these would have been acceptable in a Sunday -school. There were ladies belonging to the smart set, perfectly -respectable from a worldly point of view, but who cared for nothing -save bridge and dress, flirtation and pleasure. There were also men, -some with titles, and many with brains of the speculative money-making -order. - -Tait was not entirely in society, but by reason of his wealth and -public position as a philanthropist hovered on the fringe of it. He -helped social butterflies to make money on the Stock Exchange, lent -sums large and small to ladies who could advance him in Mayfair and -Belgravian circles, and was always open to consider any scheme which -promised to bring in cash. Thus his house-parties were composed of a -heterogeneous mass of people, good or bad, titled and untitled, gay -and grave. But a general air of restlessness prevailed, and in that -splendid mansion one and all appeared to dance along a golden road, -which doubtless led to the Pit, and were personally conducted by the -cunning, self-indulgent, worldly old stockbroker, who might have -passed as Mammon in the flesh. - -After dinner, the party split up into sections. Some ardent gamblers -sat down to bridge; a few restless spirits went to dance, and a group -gathered round a young man at the piano who sang the latest comic -songs. - -There was plenty of champagne, together with cigars and cigarettes of -the best, so the fun waxed fast and furious, and as the hours drew on -to midnight everyone grew more or less excited. Within bounds, of -course, as Maud Ellis was too clever to permit the Henley palace to -earn a name for Neronian extravagance. The entertainment just paused -on the verge of an orgy; but under Maud's skilful management did not -over-step the mark. - -That young lady had been watching George all the night although she -did not speak to him again. Towards twelve o'clock, she found herself -near him, and rallied him on his pensive air. "Don Quixote in love," -she said in an airy manner. - -Then she lowered her voice impressively. "Meet me in the -picture-gallery at three o'clock," she said, "for Lesbia's sake." - - - - -CHAPTER VII -AFTER MIDNIGHT - - -Had George been more of a man of the world he would have wholly -mistrusted Maud, and would have declined her invitation to meet him in -the picture-gallery in the small hours of Sunday morning. It would not -have been credited by a judge of human nature that one woman would -make such an appointment with the man she loved to plead the cause of -her rival, or to give a helping hand to bring about a marriage which -was dead against the feelings of her heart. But George, in spite of -his years and virile looks, was an unsophisticated man, who could -not guess what was below the surface. He was a kind of society -tender-foot, and perhaps this in some measure constituted his charm in -the eyes of Miss Ellis, who had experience enough to fit out a dozen -men and at least two women. At all events, although he wondered that -her liking for him--as he termed it--had lapsed so suddenly, yet he -determined to keep the appointment and to listen to any scheme which -she might propose, likely to accomplish the marriage with Lesbia. In -this way are strong men twisted to feminine purposes by women, and -from Samson downwards no man has been sufficiently cunning to get the -better of his Delilah. There was therefore some excuse for George. - -His attention was drawn from his own thoughts by a lively discussion -going on between Mr. Tait and three or four ladies, with a sprinkling -of men. As it was now long after midnight some people had retired to -bed, and others were preparing to follow. But Tait was a night bird -who liked to stay up as long as possible--probably because, as a -robber of widows and orphans, his pillow must have had its thorns. To -entertain those guests who remained wakeful, and especially the -feminine portion thereof, he mentioned that he had lately come into -possession of some wonderful jewels which a famous, or rather -infamous, _demi-mondaine_ of Paris had sold. Of course, the ladies -were more than anxious to see these gems, both on account of their -beauty and value and because of the celebrity of their former owner. -They one and all clamoured for a sight of them, and as Mr. Tait had -purposely stimulated their curiosity to keep them from retiring, he -was not unwilling to gratify their wish. He therefore led the way to -the picture-gallery, and pointed out a small narrow door at the end of -it. - -"There is my safe," he said proudly, "or rather my strong-room." - -"Queer place for a safe," drawled Sargent, with a shrug. - -"And for that reason the safer. We are all friends here," Tait glanced -round graciously, and looked more like a Silenus than ever, "so I do -not mind revealing the whereabouts of twenty thousand pounds' worth of -jewels. But no thief would dream that my safe was here. And even if he -did," added the stockbroker, drawing out his watch-chain, "the safe -cannot be opened save by this key." - -"But it might be broken open," George ventured to remark. - -Tait laughed in a jolly manner. "It would take the cleverest thief in -London to break into my safe, and there are only two keys to open it. -I have one on my watch-chain, and Maud, my niece, has the other." - -The guests looked at one another. Had not Tait been flushed with wine -and excitement he would not have been thus free in his speech, and he -was not a man who talked at large as a rule. But the lateness of the -hour, the presence of many people, the lights, the music, the -gambling, the wine, and the chatter had unloosened his usually -cautious tongue. Maud frowned when her uncle spoke so rashly, as she -thought that he was a fool to do so. Certainly there was no one -present who would have broken open the safe, since everyone was -respectable, even if--as the word goes--rackety! All the same the -revelation of the whereabouts of the safe and the information so -guilelessly supplied was risky, to say the least of it. Miss Ellis -shook her head at her venturesome uncle. - -"Don't say too much," she remarked in a low voice, "even this safe may -not be strong enough to withstand a burglar of the new school." - -"Well, I don't care," cried the stockbroker recklessly, inserting his -key into the lock, "my jewels are insured. Come, ladies, you can all -feast your eyes, and--as I have bought the gems to sell them again--I -am open to an offer." - -He said this jokingly, yet meant to sell if he could. Some of the -guests drew back rather annoyed, as they thought that Mr. Tait was -going too far in importing City manners into his house-party. Maud, -ever watchful, again whispered to her uncle, but he shook her off, and -entered the strong-room--now open--to bring out the jewels. When the -box which contained them was placed on a near table, and the contents -were displayed, all thought of Tait's bad manners disappeared in -amazement and delight at the sight of the precious stones. - -These were truly beautiful. Many were set in tiaras, bracelets, rings, -chains, lockets and in various ornaments for the hair and corsage. But -other stones lay loose and glittering, to be arranged and used as -required. There were diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds and many -inferior gems, the whole forming a dazzling heap, which made every -mouth water with avarice. But for Tait's estimate, those present--and -some were good judges of jewels--would have deemed the radiant pile -worth twice the amount mentioned. - -"Try them on, ladies," said the genial stockbroker. "Try them on. We -are all friends here!" and he placed a tiara on the head of his niece, -who stood near with a frown on her face. She began to think that her -uncle was crazy to display his wealth in this reckless manner. - -In a few moments some of the female guests were glittering with -jewels, and surveying themselves delightedly in hand-mirrors which had -been brought by Tait's order. The stockbroker himself, with a cynical -smile, looked at their avaricious faces, and listened with sneering -pleasure to the delighted little screams which they gave at intervals. - -Jewels have a much greater effect on women than on men, and there was -not a woman present but would have gone great lengths for the sake of -possessing even one of the ornaments. Gretchen was not the only woman -who could be lured by the glitter of gems, which is so much superior -to the mere gleam of gold. And Tait, amidst this splendour, looked -more like Mammon than ever. - -But this early-hours-of-the-morning pleasure came to an end in fifteen -minutes, and the ladies, taking off the jewels, restored them to their -owner. Tait was really glad to get them back, and counted them -carefully, for the look in the eyes of some of the ladies actually -frightened him, and he half thought that they would run away with the -treasures. However, he made sure that every one of the ornaments had -been given back, and replaced them in the box, which he deposited in -the safe. After that, the guests went to bed, and the gallery, with -the strong-room carefully locked, was left in silence and darkness. -But the sleep of many was disturbed by the thought of that Nibelung's -treasure, so near at hand, and yet so impossible to obtain. - -George was indifferent to the gems, as he thought that Lesbia's eyes -were brighter and much more beautiful. He left the gallery while Tait -was displaying his hoard, and retired to the very comfortable bedroom -which Maud's care had provided. As a mere clerk he should not have had -such luxurious surroundings, or, indeed, have been in the splendid -house at all; but she loved him, and could not do enough for him. -Therefore, George was housed like a king, and, after the manner of -youth, took his comforts easily. It never occurred to him that in his -humble position he had no right to be pampered and petted. By right of -good looks and delightful manners, he had hitherto gone through the -world very much spoiled by the fair sex. He therefore took everything -as his right. - -While waiting for three to strike from the stable clock--it was now -two--he seated himself before the fire and, lighting a pipe, gave -himself up to dreams of Lesbia. In one way or another he was -determined to make her his wife, but it was difficult to see how he -proposed to keep her on his small salary, particularly when much of -that same salary was required to support his mother. - -But that George indulged in the rosy dreams of youth and had such a -profound belief in the kindness of fortune, he would have dismissed -his proposed marriage as an impossibility. Hale was against it, and so -was Sargent: his mother did not approve of the marriage, and there was -Maud Ellis to be considered. A more hopeful man may well have been -despondent: but not George. He felt sure that everything would come -right, and that life was a fairy-tale in which the fated prince--who -was himself--carried off the lovely princess--who, of course, was -Lesbia. And she was in an enchanted castle--so he glorified Rose -Cottage--watched by two dragons, Canning and Mrs. Petty--but helped -also by a faithful dwarf, by name Tim Burke. Finally, there was Mr. -Hale as the wicked magician to be reckoned with, and perhaps Maud -might act as the malignant fairy; but somehow the marriage would be -brought about, and in some way sufficient money would be provided, so -that the prince and princess could live happily ever afterwards. - -Lesbia would not have thought in this comfortable fashion in the face -of such obstacles as barred the way to the altar: but then she was -much more practical than her lover, in spite of the fact that she -dwelt in seclusion, while he battled in the work-a-day world. - -And then, as George fondly imagined he had discovered a few hours -previously, Maud Ellis was not the wicked fairy after all. Rather was -she about to play the agreeable part of the fairy-godmother, and bring -together two lovers parted by adverse circumstances. - -When Maud afterwards thought of the trust George placed in her she -wondered at his folly, and had a contempt for his upright character -that could estimate human nature so highly. But George never doubted -for one moment but that the appointment was made in all good faith and -for the express purpose of helping his suit with Lesbia. He therefore -waited impatiently for the striking of the clock. Only once did it -cross his mind as odd that Maud should choose that hour and that -meeting-place to forward his interests, since she could easily have -spoken to him in a convenient place and at a becoming hour in the -morning. But he brushed this thought aside as unworthy of her kind -heart, and when the hour of three chimed out, he opened his door -softly and slipped out to keep his appointment. - -George had stayed so frequently at the Henley mansion that he knew his -way to the picture-gallery exceedingly well. Also, it was Mr. Tait's -hobby to have the corridors and many of the rooms lighted in a subdued -manner all night. It prevented burglary, he declared, and certainly -the sight of an illuminated house would daunt those who prefer to work -in darkness or only by the light of a bull's-eye. - -George, therefore, found himself in a soft glow when he emerged from -the bedroom and stole on tip-toe towards the head of the stairs. Here -he descended and took his way towards the back of the house to the -picture-gallery. This portion of the great mansion was not lighted, -which seemed odd, remembering what Mr. Tait said about light scaring -burglars, and seeing also that the safe was placed here. But whatever -was the stockbroker's whim, George found the long gallery in darkness, -and as he had entered by a door placed directly in the middle of it, -he halted there doubtfully. He could see no light, save what filtered -through the sky-lights, and did not know where Maud waited for him. At -the far end of the gallery were double glass doors, leading down steps -into the gardens. These were usually shuttered at night, but George -noted with some surprise by the gleam of starlight which came through -them that on this special night the shutters had not been put up. This -was strange, considering the valuables which were concealed in the -safe; but then, as the young man reflected, it was also strange that -Tait should place his treasure-house at the other end of the gimcrack -gallery, which could be so easily broken into. But, after all, on -the authority of Poe's tale of the Purloined Letter, the more unlikely -a place in which valuables are hidden the safer they are. Not one of -the London fraternity of thieves would believe that the wary -stockbroker would be so foolish as to place his safe or strong-room, -or treasure-house, or whatever he liked to call it, in such a -locality. Therefore, no creature of the night would come to rob. There -was considerable method in Tait's apparent madness after all. - -But George had scanty time for such reflections, as the hours were -swiftly moving towards dawn, and he yet had to converse with Maud. His -eyes grew more accustomed to the semi-darkness of the gallery, and he -glanced up and down to see if he could espy the darker form of the -girl. - -At this moment he heard the clink of metal upon metal. The sound came -from the direction of the strong-room, and, as he turned his gaze -thereto, he suddenly saw a vivid stream of light, proceeding -apparently from a bull's-eye. In a flash it struck him that the -strong-room was being burgled, and almost without thinking he uttered -a loud cry and sprang forward to lay hands on the thieves. - -The light disappeared as he raced up, and when within measurable -distance of the safe he stumbled over a body, motionless on the floor. -It was that of a woman, as Walker could tell by the draperies he -mechanically clutched in his fall. Before he could pick himself up, -two dark forms dashed past him towards the glass doors. George, -anxious only to lay hands on the thieves, ran down the gallery at -their heels and left the woman where she was. The intruders easily -opened the double doors, which evidently had been left ajar. - -George followed, and saw two men race across the lawn and into the -belt of trees which girdled Mr. Tait's mansion. As he increased his -speed he shouted loudly for assistance. - -By and by, lights were seen moving in the upper windows of the great -house, and into the corridors poured many guests and servants, all in -various stages of undress, and all scared by the midnight alarm. Tait, -with a dressing-gown thrown hastily over his burly form, pushed his -way through the throng down the stairs, and the guests streamed after -him. Everyone knew what was the matter, for a wakeful servant had -heard the shout of "Thieves!" and the ominous word had hastily passed -from lip to lip. - -"I expect my jewels are gone!" panted Tait, waddling towards the -gallery at the head of a picturesque mob. - -In a second the electric lights were turned on and the gallery blazed -with light. Tait uttered a cry of alarm, which was echoed by those -behind him, and there was cause for surprise. The door of the -strong-room stood wide open, and some distance away lay the insensible -body of Maud Ellis, dressed in the attire she had worn during the -previous evening. While some of the ladies attended to the girl, Tait -with surprising agility plunged into the strong-room, and then they -heard him bellow bull-like in mingled rage and astonishment. A moment -later he emerged. - -"The jewels are gone! the jewels are gone!" he shouted, purple with -wrath. "Here, some of you, go to Henley for the police; search the -grounds, examine the house, and----" - -"The doors are open, sir," cried a footman. - -"The thieves must have escaped. After them! after them!" bellowed -Tait, in a frenzy of rage. - -"Your niece, man, your niece," said a gentleman who was supporting the -unconscious Miss Ellis; but Tait only swore the more. - -"Confound my niece. I have lost twenty thousand pounds' worth of -jewels." - -Several people looked disgusted at this callousness. A young doctor, -who was stopping in the house, and who was feeling Maud's pulse, -looked up. "Miss Ellis has been chloroformed," he remarked quietly. - -Tait bent down and lightly touched the gold chain which was round the -girl's neck. "The key of the strong-room is gone," he cried furiously. - -"No doubt," explained the medical man. "Miss Ellis has been rendered -insensible and then was robbed of the key. But who----" - -"How did Maud come to be here at this hour?" demanded Tait savagely. -"Go for the police, some of you," he shouted, stamping furiously. "I'm -not going to lose a fortune in this way." - -"It's useless; the thieves have escaped," cried a voice at the end of -the gallery, and George bounded in at the open door. - -"Walker," cried the stockbroker, recoiling. "What are you doing here? -What do you know about this?" - -"I came downstairs and heard the thieves at work," explained George -quickly. "I tried to lay hands on them, but tumbled over the body of a -woman on the floor, and----" - -"It is Miss Ellis," said the young doctor, looking up. "Do you know -how she came to be here?" - -George hesitated. He could not--for the sake of Maud's reputation--say -that she had appointed a meeting with him, and did not know how to -explain. - -Tait noted his momentary hesitation, and turned on him furiously. "How -do you come to be here?" he demanded. "What makes you wander about my -house when everyone is in bed?" - -"Ah," said Mr. Hale, pushing his way through the frightened crowd, -"that is very suspicious. Speak out, Walker!" - -"I heard a noise and came down," cried George, making the first excuse -which entered his head. - -"No one else heard a noise," remarked Sargent, who was at Tait's -elbow. - -"I was wakeful," retorted Walker sharply; but on every hand he saw -incredulous looks, and realised with a chill that he was suspected. - -Tait grunted, and looked at the young man with a lowering brow. "Who -are the thieves?" he demanded. "How many of them are there?" - -"I saw two men, but could not catch a glimpse of their faces. I think -they were masked," said George readily, and again saw disbelief -written on the faces around him. "But may I suggest, Mr. Tait, that -you send for the police at once. The thieves made for the wood round -the house and may escape." - -"I daresay they have escaped," grunted Tait, savagely. "The servants -are searching the gardens. Meanwhile let us revive Maud, and hear what -she has to say." - -"She is coming round now," said the doctor, and even as he spoke, Maud -opened her eyes in a vague, unseeing way. - -"Carry her up to bed," said Tait harshly. "I'll have an inquiry made -into this as soon as dawn comes and the police arrive. Meanwhile you -can all retire. Mr. Walker, remain here and explain." - -"I have explained," said George proudly. "I have nothing more to add." - -Tait shook his head doubtfully, and whispers went round, which -indicated suspicion of the truth of Walker's explanation. By this time -Maud, more or less sensible, was on her feet. Her eyes wandered here -and there until they alighted on the young man. - -"You!" cried Miss Ellis, with a loud wail. "Oh, George, you!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII -UNDER A CLOUD - - -There was very little sleep for anyone during the remaining hours of -darkness, and after breakfast--an unusually dismal meal--the guests -one and all showed a desire to get away from their host. - -Mr. Tait certainly was not amiable, since he had suffered so great a -loss, and growled like a bear with a sore head. Not being a gentleman, -he could not control his temper, and made himself so openly -disagreeable, that everyone wanted to leave forthwith. But until the -police had made inquiries, it was impossible for either man or woman -to depart without becoming suspected. - -Throughout that wretched Sunday, the men were miserable and the ladies -hysterical. Tait, no longer the jolly Silenus, or even the gracious -Mammon, moved amongst his friends with looks of suspicion for all. - -The police duly arrived, and searched the gardens and the house, but -in no way could they trace the thieves. George stuck persistently to -his story, which, of course, was true, save for the excuse which he -gave for coming down the stairs. And it was this false portion--this -weak subterfuge--which made Mr. Tait suspicious. He knew that George -was hard up, and said as much to him in a quiet corner. - -"What has my being a pauper to do with your loss?" demanded Walker, -firing up on the instant. - -Tait shook his bullet head and scowled with his little pig eyes. "My -jewels are worth twenty thousand pounds," he retorted. - -"I don't care if they are worth twenty millions," said George, turning -pale, for he realised his employer's meaning. "I know nothing about -them." - -"You were in the gallery when----" - -"I came down to the gallery because I heard a noise," interrupted -Walker furiously. "I told the police the story I told you. I did my -best to catch the thieves, and now you have the audacity to accuse -me." - -"I don't exactly accuse you----" - -"It looks very like it." - -"You must admit that your conduct is suspicious," protested the -stockbroker. - -"I admit nothing of the sort." - -"People don't wander about a house after everyone is in bed, without a -reason," snapped Tait, with a searching glance. - -George bore the scrutiny without flinching. "I have explained how I -came to be wandering about," he declared proudly. "I was sitting by my -fire, and on hearing a suspicious noise I came down, with what result -you know. How dare you accuse me?" - -"I tell you again that I don't accuse you," vociferated Tait crossly. -"But you have acted foolishly to say the least of it." - -"How else could I have acted?" - -"On hearing the noise you should have aroused me." - -"Had I done so I should not have been in time to see the thieves." - -"What good did you do by seeing them, since they have escaped? That -is," added Tait slowly, "if there were two men. Stop!" he threw up his -fat hand as the young man was about to speak angrily; "it is no use -going round the bush. You may be innocent or you may not be. Your -story may be true or it may be the reverse." - -"Mr. Tait"--George held his temper under by mere force of will--"why -should I rob you?" - -The stockbroker opened his pig's eyes. "Why!" he demanded in -amazement, "do I not know that you are desperately poor? Didn't -Hale tell me only the other day that you wanted to marry his daughter, -and could not do so for want of money? Oh, there are plenty of reasons -why you should take twenty thousand pounds' worth of jewels. They -can be unset and sold, in which case they will be difficult to -trace. Had they been bank-notes, I don't believe that this -burglary--so-called--would have taken place." - -George curled his lip. "You put things very clearly, sir," he said -quietly, "and on the face of it, I admit that my conduct looks a -trifle suspicious." - -"A trifle!" cried Tait scornfully. "Very good indeed. A trifle! Why -not admit that you came down to steal the jewels, and went out to bury -them in some safe place, returning, when the alarm was given, to tell -us this cock-and-bull story of two thieves?" - -George winced and grew white at this very plain speaking. But he kept -his temper, for to have lost it at the moment would have been -dangerous. He saw very well that he was in a tight place. - -"I ask you only one question, Mr. Tait," he said calmly. "Who gave the -alarm?" - -"I do not know," said the stockbroker sullenly. "I heard a cry of -thieves, and help, and blue murder, and came down to find everyone -else aroused." - -"Then I may tell you that I gave the alarm, sir." - -"_You_ say so," sneered the other. - -"I say so because it is true," rejoined Walker, throwing back his head -indignantly. "I shouted in the gallery when I saw the light, and I -cried out again when I followed the thieves. I lost them when they -bolted into the wood girdling this place. Now, I ask you, sir, would I -have given the alarm had I been guilty?" - -"No--_if_ you gave the alarm, that is. But I don't believe you did." - -"In other words you think that I am guilty?" - -"Upon my word, Walker, it looks very much like it." - -"Then why not hand me over to the police?" - -The stockbroker moved uneasily and wiped his damp, red face. "Your -mother is an old friend of mine," he said hesitatingly; "I think of -her." - -"That is very good of you," said the ungrateful George; "but I would -rather you believed in my innocence. I have no wish to hide myself -behind any woman's petticoats." - -"Not even behind Maud's?" - -"I don't know what you are talking about," said George stolidly, -determined to hold his peace about the lady even to her uncle. "Miss -Ellis and I are very good friends, nothing more." - -"You know that she loves you. I should never have asked a mere clerk -from my office here, but that she loved you. I disapproved of her -infatuation, but I gave in to her since I am your mother's friend." - -"You are slightly incoherent, sir, and entirely wrong. Miss Ellis and -I are friends; nothing more. And to return to the subject of the -burglary, may I remind you that the police have discovered that the -safe was not broken into, but that the door was opened with a key? The -key, I notice, is still on your watch-chain. How then could I have -opened the safe?" - -"Perhaps you think that I stole the jewels myself?" sneered Tait -coolly. "I may remind you, in my turn, that Maud also has a key." - -George sprang to his feet and clenched his hand. "You dare to -insinuate that I got it from Miss Ellis, and----" - -The door opened as he spoke, and Tait, who was facing it, glanced over -the young man's shoulder. "Here is Maud for herself. Perhaps she will -explain." - -It was indeed Miss Ellis, looking very white and pinched. Her eyes -were red-rimmed, her mouth was drooping, and she confessed to a -headache, which was not to be wondered at, seeing what she had gone -through. - -"That chloroform is horrible stuff," complained Maud, sinking into a -chair. - -"Have you seen the inspector?" said Tait, giving his niece very little -sympathy for her wan looks. - -"Yes; I have told him all I know." - -"Perhaps you will repeat what you have told him to your uncle, Miss -Ellis," remarked Walker, still standing very stiff and very proudly. -"He has accused me of getting the key from you to rob the strong-room, -and swears that I have buried the jewels somewhere in the garden." - -"That is absurd," said Maud, looking at her uncle, while a red spot of -colour burned on either pale cheek. "I don't believe that you have -anything to do with the matter." - -"Then what did you mean by addressing Walker as you did, when you -revived in the gallery?" demanded Mr. Tait sharply. - -"I simply said, 'Oh, George, you!'" said the girl quietly; "and that -because I felt glad he was there to help me." - -"He didn't help you in the least," remarked Tait grimly. - -"He would have had I asked him," she retorted. "Would you not, Mr. -Walker?" - -"Certainly." - -"It's not George this time, then," muttered the stockbroker. "Well, -Maud, perhaps you will tell me what you were doing in the gallery." - -Maud's eyes sought those of the man she loved, but she replied without -hesitation. "I'll tell you what I did not tell the police, uncle. The -inspector believes that I came down because I heard a noise." - -"Like Walker here." - -"He did not come down for that reason." - -Tait looked at George with triumph in his eye. "I thought not," he -said. - -"If he said that he did, he said so to shield me," pursued Miss Ellis, -and looked gratefully at the confused young man. - -"What do you mean by that, Maud?" asked Tait tartly. - -"I made an appointment with George in the picture-gallery at three in -the morning, as I wished to help him to marry Lesbia Hale." - -"Why, I thought you loved Walker yourself!" cried the astonished -stockbroker. - -"So I did--so I do," breathed Miss Ellis, drooping her sandy head. -"But, to my mind, love means sacrifice. George--for I have the right -to call him so now--George would not have been happy with me, as he -loved Lesbia Hale, so I arranged to give him up to her, and to make -things right with her father. For that reason I waited for him in the -gallery. There I was suddenly pounced upon, and a handkerchief soaked -in chloroform was clapped over my mouth. I daresay the person who -did it, stole the key from the chain round my neck, and opened the -strong-room to steal the jewels. But I knew nothing from the moment I -became insensible until I revived to find you all standing round me. -That is the story I have told the inspector, save that I kept quiet my -appointment with George." - -"Then you believe him to be innocent," said the stockbroker, -confounded by the frankness of this story. - -Maud arose indignantly. "The man I love can never be guilty," she -cried. - -George blushed a rosy red. He saw that he had not behaved over well to -this brave girl, who had so cleverly exonerated him, although he -really had no reason to accuse himself of duplicity towards her. But -in a confused way he felt that she was heaping coals of fire on his -head, and was more drawn to her than he had ever been before. Here, -indeed, was a friend worth having. With Lesbia as his wife and Maud as -his friend, life would indeed be joyous. - -In his innocence it never struck the young man that no male can drive, -either in double harness or in tandem fashion, two women who both love -him. He thought that Maud, having discovered that the true meaning of -love was sacrifice, behaved thus because of her newly-acquired -knowledge. "Thank you, Miss Ellis," he said simply, but his looks -implied volumes more. - -Tait was displeased. He had no grudge against George, whom he liked -well enough; but he did not like his solution of the mystery to be -thus upset. - -"You mean well, Maud," he said at length, "and you have shielded -Walker very cleverly. All the same, I cannot accept your explanation." - -Miss Ellis rose in alarm. "Uncle, do you mean that you will have Mr. -Walker arrested when you know that he is innocent?" - -"For his mother's sake I shall not do that," said the elder man; "but -if Mr. Walker will give back the jewels I will not dismiss him from my -office." - -"I have no jewels to give," cried George recklessly, and his face -flushed a deep red. "As to remaining in your office, do you think that -I would continue to serve a man who suspects me of such a wicked -crime? I shall never return to your office, Mr. Tait, nor shall I -re-enter your house until my innocence is made clear. If the police -arrest me----" - -"They will not do that," interrupted Maud quickly; "I promise you. -There is no evidence against you. I don't know who chloroformed me, -but you are innocent, I swear. My uncle will take no steps." - -"For Mrs. Walker's sake," interpolated the stockbroker unctuously. - -"So you can leave this house when you will," continued Maud, -"knowing--" she seized his hand--"that I at least, believe you -guiltless." - -"Thank you!" said George, and kissed her hand. "Mr. Tait, if you and -the police want me you know where to find me." And he stalked out of -the room with his head in the air. Maud Ellis looked after him with -hungry looks, and heaved a deep sigh when the door closed. - -Within the hour George had asked permission of the inspector to leave -the house, and obtained it. Whatever the guests believed, the police -apparently--thanks to Maud's report--accepted him as a wholly -guiltless person. He gave his address to the officer, so that he might -be called as a witness in the event of the thieves being brought to -book, and then shook the dust of that splendid Henley mansion from his -feet. - -He was glad to get away, for several people looked at him askance, and -evidently there was an uneasy feeling that he knew more than he would -confess. But no one hinted openly that he was concerned in the -robbery. It was merely thought that his presence in the gallery -required a more reasonable explanation than the weak one of having -heard a noise. Still, George could not help feeling that he was -suspected by the guests and servants, and it was gall and wormwood to -the proud young man that this should be the case. - -Walker carried his portmanteau down to the river, as he had rowed up -to Henley from Medmenham. It was now late in the afternoon, and with a -heavy heart he prepared to launch his boat and return. - -The news that he had to take to his mother was unwelcome, and he -wondered how she would receive the information that he had left Tait's -office. Mrs. Walker's circumstances were very desperate, as her income -was so small, and she greatly depended upon her son's earnings. The -present phase of things would be worse than ever, and George winced as -he contemplated the coming interview. - -Just as he was about to step into the boat, Mr. Hale, cigar in mouth, -sauntered up and addressed him. Walker was in no mood for -conversation, and would have pushed off with a curt nod, but that the -elder man uttered a sentence which made him pause indignantly. "So -Tait didn't have you arrested, Walker," said Mr. Hale cruelly. - -George turned pale, and looked straight at the speaker. "If you were -not Lesbia's father," he said quietly, "I should fling you into the -river for those words." - -"I quite believe you would and could," rejoined Hale, looking -admiringly at the splendid figure of the young man; "but that will not -make you any the more innocent." - -"If I were guilty--if Mr. Tait believed me to be guilty, I should have -been arrested long since," said Walker with an effort, "the mere fact -that I am permitted to leave the house shows that I am considered -guiltless." - -"Tait was always absurdly good-natured," said Hale coolly, again -risking a plunge into the river. - -George looked at him again. "You believe that I stole those jewels?" -he asked. - -"Of course I do. You made a lame excuse for being in the gallery at -night, and evidently went out after two pretended thieves so as to -hide your plunder. I didn't believe you had it in you. See what love -will do." - -"Love?" - -"Yes. You are poor; you want to marry Lesbia, and so tried the short -cut to wealth. Presently, when things have blown over, you will dig up -the jewels and sell them to some fence. Then you will come to me with -a cock-and-bull story about a legacy being left to you--perhaps you -will inherit that fifty thousand pounds which is waiting for your -mother's sister. Of course, knowing the source of your legacy I shall -say no." - -"You have said no already," replied Walker quietly, although he longed -to knock this sneering man of the world into the water. "Don't say any -more, sir, else I may forget that you are Lesbia's father." And George -took up his oars and pushed off into midstream. - -Hale lingered on the bank, still scoffing. "I shall tell Lesbia -everything, Walker," called out Mr. Hale, clearly and slowly. "She -will never marry you now, my dear burglar." - -The unhappy lover pulled swiftly down stream with those last words -ringing in his ears. Could he indeed trust Lesbia to continue her -engagement in the face of his being accused of a sordid crime? He knew -that she loved him as dearly as he loved her, and would go through -fire and water to prove that love. All the same, there was something -so mean and contemptible about stealing from a friend's house, that -even her great love might not be proof against her father's story. -George clenched his teeth and pulled for dear life in order to control -his emotion. He could do nothing in the face of all that had taken -place, save wait patiently. Trusting in Tait's friendship for his -mother and in Maud's loyalty, he knew that he would not be disgraced -openly: but the idea that Lesbia might believe him guilty was -desperately hard to bear. Still, she loved him, and he trusted in her -love. That was all he could do, for a glance around showed him that he -was helpless amidst the black circumstances which had so suddenly -environed him. - -Mrs. Walker heard a bald, blunt tale from George and said very little -in reply. Not even when he declared that he had thrown up his -situation did she rebuke him. On the contrary she rather applauded. - -"As my son," said the stern, cold woman, "you could do nothing else." - -"Then you do not believe that I am guilty?" - -Mrs. Walker looked at him scornfully. "Our relations as mother and son -have never been sentimental," she said quietly, "but you should know -me better than to ask me that." - -"Thank you, mother," said George simply, for such a speech meant much -from the Spartan woman, who was usually so reticent. - -"I want no thanks for being just," she remarked coldly. "What you have -to do is to clear your name by searching for these thieves." - -"How am I to do that?" - -"I leave it to your own cleverness. Meanwhile I shall see Mr. Jabez, -and get him to advance us sufficient to live on until your name is -cleared and you have got another situation. As to this girl, Lesbia, -give her up." - -"Never! Never! Never!" said George. His mother looked at him coldly -and disapprovingly, and left him in silence. - -But matters turned out as she wished. Within three days a tearful note -came from a distraught girl to her anxious lover--a note of a few -words--"I believe you to be innocent but we can never marry, and we -must never meet again," said the note, and it was signed stiffly -"Lesbia Hale." - - - - -CHAPTER IX -TWO GIRLS - - -If the course of true love did not run smoothly with George, the girl -he loved found it speeding roughly also. - -Lesbia was as anxious to see her lover as he was to meet her; but -parental displeasure and parental authority stood like a wall between -this new Pyramus and Thisbe--a wall which could by no means be -overleaped. - -As Tim had informed George, his master had engaged Mrs. Petty as a -housekeeper, and so the domestic arrangements of Rose Cottage were -temporarily removed from the hands of Lesbia. Also, in conjunction -with The Shadow, Mrs. Petty acted both as a spy and a gaoler. It was -infamous, as Lesbia felt, that she should be watched in this fashion; -but as she had no money and no friends and no place whither she could -go, there was nothing left for it but to wait, until such time as Mr. -Hale became more reasonable. - -Mrs. Petty was a stout, plethoric woman, with an aggressive manner and -a loud, common voice, who probably had been a Margate lodging-house -keeper of the worst description. She was a born bully, and within ten -minutes of her entry into the house Tim learned to loathe her with all -the fervour of an Irishman, impatient of restraint in any form. - -Mrs. Petty tried similar tactics and treatment on Lesbia, but was met -so firmly, and put in her place so quietly, that--being a coward at -heart, as all bullies are--she left the girl as severely alone as was -possible, while executing Mr. Hale's instructions. These were to keep -a strict eye on his daughter, and to prevent the intrusion of George -Walker. Mrs. Petty, after several rebuffs, contented herself by -watching from afar, and managed by always being on the spot when -Lesbia least expected her, to fulfil her contemptible duty. For the -rest of the time she worried Tim and looked after the domestic economy -of the cottage. - -The Shadow, as became his nickname, was a less aggressive personage. -He was really called John Canning, and formerly had acted as valet to -Captain Sargent. But that gentleman, being anxious to marry Lesbia -whom he greatly admired, and hating George as a too-handsome and -over-young rival, had suggested to his friend Hale that Canning should -act as an inoffensive dragon to keep away the young man. Hale quite -approved of this, as Canning could guard the garden, while Mrs. Petty -kept watch on the girl in the house itself. Canning, therefore, glided -unostentatiously into his position and, although Lesbia disliked the -creature because he carefully kept George away, she had not the same -hatred for him that she cherished for Mrs. Petty. At his worst Canning -was a harmless individual, condemned to do the dirty work of others, -because he had not sufficient brains to earn an honest wage in an -honest manner. - -His nickname had been given him because of his marvellously thin -looks, and these were certainly remarkably noticeable. At one time, as -he confessed to Lesbia, he had exhibited himself in a travelling -caravan as The Living Skeleton, but having slightly increased in -weight he had been discharged. What his leanness must have been -originally it is hard to say, as even now, he was but skin and bone -and, being tall, looked like a line--that is, he was length without -breadth. His hands resembled a bird's claws, his legs were like -sticks, and his skull would have served for a death's head, so devoid -was it of flesh. With his lean, clean-shaven face, with his straight, -jet-black hair, which he wore rather long, and with his skinny, -lengthy, narrow figure encased in shabby broad-cloth, he looked -positively uncanny, and rude boys made remarks about him when he -walked abroad. He glided about like a shadow, haunted shady corners -like a shadow, and spoke in a whisper as a shadow should. The name -fitted him exactly, and he looked a creature of the night, quite out -of place in the cheerful sunshine. - -Lesbia did not approve of him at first, for obvious reasons, and even -disliked him actively when she found how he dogged her footsteps. But -it so happened that the gods chose to turn her heart to a friendless -man, and the consequences of the change were more far-reaching than -she guessed at the moment. - -The days went by very heavily, since her heart was with George and she -could not see him. Certainly she contrived through the ever-faithful -Tim to get a note transmitted to him--the same that George read on the -river. And under cover of Tim's name he sent an answer which assured -her that he was still faithful and still loving and ever hopeful of -better days. Lesbia carried about that letter in her bosom day and -night and read it when she felt particularly down-hearted, which -happened not infrequently. She also waited and she also hoped. Then an -event occurred, which in after-time showed how mysteriously things -work out to their hidden ends. - -The Shadow fell ill in spite of the warm summer weather. Being of a -sickly constitution, he unexpectedly caught influenza, and was forced -to go to bed in the little room near Tim's sanctum. Hale, who had a -horror of sickness, at once decided to turn him out; but Sargent, also -afraid, refused to permit the valet to return to his Cookham house. -There appeared to be no refuge for the miserable man but the hospital -or the workhouse, until Lesbia suddenly asserted herself and insisted -upon nursing him back to health. Mr. Hale objected, but his daughter, -for the first time in her life remained firm and, having already -sufficient troubles on his hand without creating more, he yielded in -the end. Moreover, he thought that acting as a sick-nurse would give -Lesbia something to do and take her thoughts away from George. So she -was permitted to nurse Canning, while Mr. Hale betook himself to -Tait's sumptuous mansion at Henley. - -Mrs. Petty declined to look after the sick man, so Lesbia took full -charge of the case, and was assisted by Tim. Not that Tim approved of -The Shadow: but, being tender-hearted, he considered him a poor -creature, and so acted the part of the Good Samaritan. - -Canning grew delirious and seemed in danger of passing away: but -Lesbia set herself to struggle with death, and in the end she -conquered. - -When the man was sane again and rapidly regaining his strength, Tim -told him all that the young mistress had done. It was then that the -Irishman saw two big tears roll down the thin cheeks of the spy. - -When Lesbia entered to see how he was, he spoke weakly but to the -point. "I have been kicked about all my life," said The Shadow -brokenly, "and no one has ever said a kind word to me. Mr. Hale and -Captain Sargent have treated me worse than a dog, and but for you, -Miss Lesbia, I should have been thrown out to die in the street. You -hate me because I was set to watch you----" - -"I don't hate you now, Canning," she interposed, hastily. "After all, -you only performed the duty you were set to do by my father." - -"And by Captain Sargent," whispered The Shadow. "Don't forget Captain -Sargent. I never shall," and his weak hand clenched under the -coverlet. "But you have acted like an angel, Miss Lesbia, and some day -I may be able to repay you for what you have done." - -"I only did my duty," said the girl, tucking him in. - -"You are the first woman or man who has ever done duty by me in this -world," said Canning, the tears rolling down his face. "I know what I -know, and some day you may want my help. You shall have it. Yes! you -shall have it at whatever cost." - -"What do you know?" she asked wonderingly. - -"Never mind." He turned his face to the wall. "When the time comes, -call upon me, and I will help you." - -Nothing more was said at the moment, as the man was not sufficiently -recovered to talk much. Lesbia thought occasionally of what he had -said, but could not entirely understand his meaning, unless it was -that he would shut his eyes to the coming of George, should that young -man choose to risk a visit. But the days went by and George did not -come, for, as Canning was sick, Mrs. Petty kept a very strict watch on -the girl. - -Gradually the words of the sick man were forgotten by Lesbia and, when -he went away entirely recovered, she forgot him, having more important -matters to think about. - -It was shortly after Canning's departure that Hale returned from -Henley with a story which made Lesbia write--and write willingly--the -letter of dismissal, which had broken Walker's heart. After she sent -it away her father patted her shoulder, and spoke kindly to her. - -"You are now acting as a sensible girl," he said, with chill -politeness; "and there is no longer any need for Mrs. Petty to remain. -I know that you do not like her, so I shall send her away this -evening. Canning has also gone and will not return. Things can revert -to their original course, and you can manage the house along with Tim. -But remember, Lesbia, that if your heart softens towards this scamp, I -shall recall both The Shadow and Mrs. Petty to watch over you." - -Lesbia, with a white face and set lips, looked straight at her father. -"I will neither write to George again, nor will I see him," she said, -with a stifled sob. "But whatever you say about his guilt, remember -that I do not believe it. He is innocent." - -"Then why not stick by him?" asked her father cruelly. - -"You know well enough why I do not: why I cannot. George and I are now -entire strangers, and must remain so until the mystery of this -burglary is cleared up." - -"It will never be cleared up, because there is nothing to clear up," -said her father calmly. "George stole those jewels of Tait's for your -sake, and it is only Tait's friendship for his mother and Maud's kind -heart that prevented Walker being arrested and condemned as a thief." - -Lesbia's lip curled. "I mistrust Miss Ellis's kind heart," said she. - -Hale shrugged his thin shoulders. "You can do what you like about -that," he remarked carelessly, "but remember that she holds George in -the hollow of her hand. All you have to do is to forget him and marry -Sargent." - -"No!" said Lesbia positively. "I shall never see George again, since -circumstances are too strong for him and for me. But I will never -marry Captain Sargent. Be sure of that." - -"He loves you, and----" - -"I don't love him. Say no more, father. What I say, I stand by." - -"You said much before which you have not held by," retorted Hale, his -temper rising; "and circumstances may prove too much for you. However, -Sargent can wait, and so can I. Meanwhile, since you have dismissed -this young fool, you are free to come and go as you desire." - -"One moment," said Lesbia, as her father turned on his heel, "what -about that amethyst cross?" - -Hale wheeled round with a colour in his parchment cheeks, and a -suspicious look in his cold, grey eyes. "What do you mean?" - -"You declared that if George recovered the cross, he could marry me." - -"I hold to that, since I am not a man to go back on my word." - -"But how can I marry George when you say that you can prove he is -guilty of this burglary?" - -"Maud Ellis can prove it, not I," returned Mr. Hale. He paused and bit -his lip hard. "I believe in the face of Walker's new escapade that he -knows who took that cross. His former behaviour may have been a sham, -as was his acting in the gallery. Let him bring me the cross, and -perhaps after all he may be able to marry you," - -"I shall never marry him until his character is cleared," said Lesbia -firmly. - -Hale shrugged his shoulders again. "You will find it difficult to -clear him, my dear," he sneered, and went away. - -Mr. Hale would have spoken rightly in connection with a less -determined girl. But Lesbia, for all her fragile looks, was very -determined and also very much in love with George Walker. Appearances -were against him, and, judging by circumstantial evidence, he -certainly was guilty. But Lesbia could not bring herself to believe -that the man she loved had sunk to being a common thief. Now that she -was free to leave the cottage and wander whither she would, it was an -easy matter to seek out George at Medmenham, and ask direct questions. - -But this Lesbia did not do, because her father had detailed fully all -that Walker had said and all that he had done, so there was no more to -learn in that quarter. Moreover, Hale had stated with a sneer that -Maud Ellis was desperately in love with the young man, and Lesbia -recalled George's hesitation about speaking of his desire to leave -Tait's office. "There are other things to be considered," Walker had -said, and then had blushed. Now the girl knew intuitively that he -referred to Maud Ellis. - -Lesbia's face grew flushed and angry as she thought of her rival. She -trusted George, who was her very own, but instinctively she knew the -wiles of women, and dreaded lest her letter of dismissal should throw -the young man into the arms of the stockbroker's niece. Thus it came -about that Lesbia's meditations led her, not to Mrs. Walker's cottage -at Medmenham, but to the splendid mansion at Henley, where Maud Ellis -was waiting for George to come to her. - -Maud had learned from Mr. Hale that George had received his letter of -dismissal from Lesbia, and so waited to catch him on the recoil. He -would certainly come back to her who had so boldly stood by him when -he had been accused. But as the days went by George did not come, and -Maud's heart grew sick, for she was honestly in love. - -Her uncle was absent in the City, still seeking for the lost jewels, -and the local police together with a couple of detectives from -Scotland Yard were doing their best to solve the mystery. But all -efforts were in vain. No trace had been found of the thieves, and the -jewels could not be recovered. Tait invited no more people to his -Henley mansion, and remained a great deal in London grumbling over his -loss. Maud would have gone up also, but that she waited vainly at home -in the hope that George would come to her for consolation. - -One afternoon while she was thus waiting, and had arrayed herself in -her prettiest frock on the chance of a visit, the footman intimated -that a young lady wished to see her. She had no card, said the -footman, and had simply stated that her name was Miss Lesbia Hale. - -Maud's eyes flashed when she heard the name of her rival, and she -ordered the man to lead the guest at once to the long drawing-room. -Miss Ellis was desperately anxious to see the face that had captured -the heart of George Walker. Before repairing to the drawing-room, she -altered a few things about her dress, for, being very much the woman, -she knew that she was about to meet a dangerous foe. A man would not -notice a dress overmuch, but a woman would, at the very first glance, -and Maud was determined that there should be no flaw in her armour, so -far as frocks and frills went. - -Lesbia, very pale, but quite calm, waited impatiently for the -appearance of Miss Ellis. When that young lady sailed into the room -with outstretched hands and a beaming smile, Lesbia rose with a stony -face and a cold, distant manner. Maud's hands fell, when she saw that -she was being kept at a distance, and she became formal also. In her -heart she grew angry, when she saw Lesbia's beauty, for being very -sensible, she knew that her own looks were much inferior. A shade -passed over her face, but soon was replaced by a malicious smile. Maud -knew that, beauty or no beauty, she held the trump card and could win -the game at her leisure. Lesbia saw that smile. - -"I know why you look like that," she said abruptly. Maud straightened -her neat figure, and raised her sandy eyebrows. - -"What a very strange speech to make at our first meeting, Miss Hale!" -she said, coldly and superciliously. - -"Ah," retorted Lesbia. "You see that I am not used to society." - -"Is there any occasion to tell me that?" asked Maud, sweetly. - -But Lesbia was too desperately in earnest to be daunted by such feline -talk. "There is no occasion to tell you many things," she said, "nor -is there need for beating about the bush. My father has told me -everything." - -"About what may I ask?" - -"About this burglary and about George." - -"George?" Miss Ellis raised her eyebrows again. "George?" she -repeated. - -"I have the right to call him so," rejoined Lesbia hotly. "I am -engaged to him, Miss Ellis." - -"Was engaged, I understand." - -"Yes." Lesbia suddenly looked fatigued and would have dearly liked to -sit down, but pride prevented her. Maud saw this and scratched again. - -"Won't you sit down?" - -"No, thank you!" replied Lesbia, stiffening. "I am only here for a few -minutes, and can say all that I have to say in that time." - -Miss Ellis flicked a scented handkerchief across her lips to hide a -smile, and looked searchingly at her visitor's white face. "I really -don't know why you talk to me like this." - -"Oh, yes you do. In the same way I knew why you smiled when you -entered. You think that you can win the game. But you shan't!" - -"What game?" - -"The game we play for George. My father has told me all. I love George -and you love him also." - -"Your father seems to be very well-informed," sneered Maud, flushing. - -"He usually is," Lesbia assured her, with great coolness. "It was only -when my father told me about this burglary, that I learned you loved -George." - -"I do love him!" cried Maud defiantly, "but I don't see that it -matters to you--now." - -"It matters a great deal," said Lesbia coldly. "I am only an -unsophisticated girl, Miss Ellis, but I don't intend to give up the -man I love, without a struggle." - -"I understand that you have given him up." - -"For the time being, until I can force you to prove his innocence." - -"Force me!" Miss Ellis raised her eyebrows for the third time, but her -face grew angry, for she did not like this very straight speaking. -"What have I to do with the matter? I believe that George is innocent -myself, and told my uncle so. Indeed, had I not stood up for George, -he would now be in gaol." - -Lesbia smiled contemptuously. "It's all part of the game," she -retorted. "I am a woman, not a man, Miss Hale, and I can see very -plainly how George walked into the trap you set for him." - -"I set no trap. And if George says----" - -"George says nothing. I have not seen him for a long time. But my -father told me how George was in the gallery and you also." - -"Did he tell you that George came to meet me?" asked Maud maliciously. - -"No, nor do I believe you." - -"Then he did." - -"It is a lie," said Lesbia, impolitely but very firmly. "I don't -believe it." - -"Ask George himself," cried Maud. "He will tell you that we had a -meeting at three in the morning and----" - -Lesbia, who was looking at her, gave an ironical laugh. "Oh, I believe -you now," she said slowly, "I can see the truth in your eyes. Yes, -George did meet you by appointment. Why, I don't know----" - -"Because he loved me." - -"He never loved you!" cried Lesbia furiously, and looked so angry that -Maud hastily stepped back a pace, thinking she would be struck. "He -loves me and me only. But you inveigled him into the gallery, into a -trap, and made use of this burglary to force him to be your husband." - -"I told my uncle that George was innocent." - -"Yes, because it suited your book to do so. But you told my father, -and he passed the message on to me, that if I did not dismiss George, -you would prove his guilt." - -Maud tore her handkerchief to ribbons. "And I can too," she said, -between her teeth. "You are quite right. To the world I should say -nothing; but to you I can say what I please. We love the same man. I -want him, and I am going to get him. I _did_ trap George into a -meeting, but the burglary was unforeseen. I can make use of it, which, -let me remind you, Miss Hale, I have not done yet. Remember I was -chloroformed, and the key was taken from my neck to open the safe. -What would be easier than for me to declare that George Walker asked -me to meet him in the gallery and rendered me insensible and stole the -jewels, after taking the key, and buried them in the garden, coming -back to tell falsehoods? If I speak----" - -"You won't speak." - -"I shall speak, rather than let George marry you," flashed out Maud. - -Lesbia sneered. "You remind me of the motto of the French Revolution," -she said. "'Be my brother or I'll kill you,' so George is to marry -you----" - -"Or go to gaol. Exactly!" - -"Thank you!" Lesbia moved swiftly to the door. "Now that I know your -intentions I can go." - -"What will you do?" Maud followed, aghast at this abrupt departure. - -"Prove George's innocence, and marry him." - -"Try!" said Maud, between her teeth, "try and fail." - - - - -CHAPTER X -THE _DEUS EX MACHINA_ - - -If Lesbia had been a trifle more versed in the ways of the wicked -world, she would have remained longer in conversation with Maud, if -only to learn about that lady's plans. Maud declared that unless -George became her husband she would have him put into gaol for the -burglary. But it was difficult to know how she intended to proceed. Of -course, she could declare that Walker had chloroformed her and had -stolen the key of the strong-room to steal the jewels, but she had no -one to prove the truth of her story, plausible as it was, in the face -of Walker's known presence in the picture-gallery. It was George's -word against Maud's and, therefore, the law would have no easy matter -to prove the young man's supposed guilt. - -But Lesbia was so hot with indignation at the discovery of Maud's mean -plot that she ended the interview abruptly, and walked quickly away -trying to stifle her rage. For George's sake it was necessary that she -should keep a clear head, and it was necessary also that she should -learn the truth of this conspiracy--as she verily believed it to be. - -Come what might, Lesbia decided in her own mind that George should -marry her. But to bring this about she had not only to clear his -character, but to find the amethyst cross and restore it to her -father. But where the cross might be she could not guess. The mystery -of the robbery and of George's presence in the cottage on that fatal -night had never been cleared up. - -Walking swiftly down to the river Lesbia thought over these things, -and thought still more when she entered Tim's boat. The little man had -rowed her up to Henley at her request, and took her back the same way. -She had detailed her reasons for visiting Miss Ellis, but had received -scanty comfort from Tim. He was disposed to take a gloomy view of the -matter. - -"It's the crass, bad luck to it!" groaned Tim, when she told him how -badly she had fared. "Sure there's nivir bin a moment's pace sinse it -was lost." - -"That is very true," rejoined Lesbia, steering the boat towards the -lock, and reviewing in her own mind the untoward circumstances which -had disturbed her life since the proposal of George in the garden. -From the time when the cross had been given to him, there had been -nothing but incessant trouble. Her father had raged, her lover had -been assaulted, her liberty had been curtailed, and George had lost -his situation through being accused of a sordid crime. And to crown -all, another woman, of whose existence she had scarcely heard, had -stepped in to claim Walker as her future husband. - -"It's very true," sighed Lesbia dolefully, "the cross has brought -nothing but trouble. If we could get it back again things might mend. -But the question is, how to recover it?" - -Tim bent to his oars, and shook his head with another groan. "Let it -bide, Miss, let it bide. Sure we don't want more kick-ups. Me mother, -rist her sowl, towld me that the crass wud bring lashins av worry whin -ye guv it off av yer hand. An' it's truth she spoke, me dear." - -"Do you know where she got the cross, Tim?" - -"Sure, Miss, an' didn't she tell ye whin she died? 'Twas yer mother's. -I know no more nor that, me dear, 'twas your mother's. As for Masther -Garge, cudn't ye forgit him, Miss?" - -"No!" cried Lesbia, indignantly. "I shall love George as long as I -live. I can no more forget him than he can forget me. Would you have -me marry Captain Sargent?" - -"Sure, an' I wudn't. He's a proud baste, an' if ye married him, me -dear, he'd be afther bringing me to the gallows, for his treatmint av -ye, Miss Lesbia." - -"Then don't let us talk any more about the matter," cried Lesbia, -impetuously. "I shall keep my faith with George." - -"Wud ye like to see him, Miss?" - -"No," said the girl promptly. "I told him in my letter that we must -never meet again. Nor will we until this mystery of the burglary is -cleared up. I intend to clear it up." - -"But how, Miss? Ye've no wan to help ye." - -Lesbia reflected. "There's The Shadow," she said quietly. - -"An' what wud that poor cratur be afther doing, Miss?" - -"I don't know. But he offered to help me, so I shall put his -professions of gratitude to the test. Tim, to-night you must go down -to Cookham and bring him back with you." - -"Augh!" groaned Tim, annoyed that anyone but himself should do -anything for his darling. "Sure he's out av the house, so let him -bide, me dear." - -"If you don't go to Cookham, I will," said Lesbia firmly. - -"An' have trouble wid that baste av a Captain? Me dear, I'll go." - -And Tim was as good as his word. Lesbia reached the cottage to find -that her father had left a note saying he had gone to London for a few -days. Hale was always stealing off on mysterious errands, possibly -connected with his equally mysterious business. - -Of late no odd characters had been coming to the cottage, but Hale was -absent much more frequently. On this occasion his absence was welcome, -as it gave Lesbia a chance of arranging her plans with Canning. What -these might be she had, as yet, no very clear idea. All she intended -to do was to explain the situation and ask The Shadow what was best to -be done. When she received his opinion, she could then take a step -forward into the veiling mists which surrounded her. - -While Tim rowed down to Cookham, which he did after landing Lesbia at -the bottom of the garden, the girl ran into the cottage. She found -that she had it all to herself as, true to his promise, Mr. Hale had -dismissed Mrs. Petty. That good lady, liking the easy place, had -retired in high dudgeon, and would have shown fight but that Hale -quelled her with a glance of his cold, grey eye. - -Hale, indeed, possessed a great power--perhaps a hypnotic power--over -those who came to the cottage. Had not Canning fallen sick, and thus -had been removed from his influence, it is very questionable if he -would have offered his services to Lesbia. However, he had done so, -and the girl was about to accept them gratefully. - -Lesbia passed the time in dressing herself for dinner, and in -partaking of it. It was a homely meal, consisting of cold meat and -salad, bread and cheese and a glass of prime claret. Afterwards -Lesbia made herself a cup of black coffee, and sat down in the tiny -drawing-room with a book, pending the arrival of The Shadow. But her -thoughts wandered from the printed page to George, and more than ever -she longed for his coming. It had cost her much to write the letter of -dismissal, but in the face of Maud's threat, as conveyed to her by -Hale, she could do nothing else. And the worst of it was that she had -not been permitted to assign a cause for what George must regard as -her heartless behaviour. - -However, and very luckily, she had scanty time for sad reflections, -for shortly she heard the hearty voice of Tim, as he entered the house -by the back door, and later the sibilant whisper of The Shadow. - -In a few minutes Canning presented himself, looking more lean and more -dismal than ever in his customary suit of black. But his haggard face -was lighted up with an eager smile. The mere fact that Lesbia had -decided to avail herself of his services made him as gay as such a sad -personage well could be. Canning was desperately anxious to repay the -kindness he had received. - -"I am glad to see you," said Lesbia cordially. "You lost no time." - -"No, Miss," whispered the grim man, who stood with long, hanging arms -at the door. "Captain Sargent went to London to-day with your father, -and I came back with Tim at once. I am so glad you want me to help -you, Miss." - -"I need your help very badly," sighed Lesbia, passing her hand across -her brow. "Will you not sit down, Canning." - -"In your presence, Miss? Please excuse me." - -"But you are yet weak after your illness. Sit down. I want you to." - -Thus urged, The Shadow sank softly on to the extreme edge of a -convenient chair placed near the door. Here he fixed his sad eyes on -the beautiful vision at the window, and adored in silence. - -Lesbia turned matters over in her mind. She knew that she would have -to speak very plainly, and had a natural reluctance to doing so, since -Canning was a servant and a stranger. - -Still, he was the sole person who could help her, as now that George -was out of her life, temporarily, at all events, she felt very lonely. -Her father neither gave her affection, nor desired any, and certainly -would not put out a hand to save George, much less clear his -character. Why should he, when he wanted Walker out of the way so that -his daughter could marry Sargent? - -Lesbia thought of these things with her eyes on the floor, and finally -determined to confess everything, as her plight and that of George was -too desperate to permit of over-nice feelings. - -With some colour, therefore, she related the whole story from the time -that Walker had proposed to the result of her visit to Maud. - -"I was forced to dismiss Mr. Walker," she said in addition, "because -my father came back to tell me that Miss Ellis had threatened to have -Mr. Walker arrested. I saw Miss Ellis also, as I have told you, and -she declares that she can prove Mr. Walker's guilt, and will do so -unless he marries her." - -Canning, with his sad eyes fixed upon her, heard the whole tale -without comment. At the end he nodded. "What do you wish me to do, -Miss?" - -"I want you to learn who committed this burglary at Mr. Tait's house, -so that Mr. Walker can be cleared." - -"But how can I do that, Miss, when I am servant to Captain Sargent? I -have my duties to consider." - -"I know that," Lesbia faltered, and became downcast, "and then you -have no experience in looking into these things. I am sorry you cannot -help me." - -"I did not say that, Miss." - -"Then you will?" - -The Shadow reflected, but did not take his eyes from her eager face. -"Yes!" he said at length. "I will help you." - -"Oh, Canning, thank you so much. But how?" - -"I can't say yet, Miss. In the first place I must leave Captain -Sargent." - -Lesbia rose impulsively. "I don't want you to lose your situation." - -"I had intended to give the Captain notice long ago," explained -Canning, rising in his turn. "What you say decides me. I shall go to -London, and in one way or another I may be able to learn who stole -those jewels." - -"But why in London? They were stolen at Henley." - -"Quite so, but the two thieves--if Mr. Walker is to be believed, there -were two--must have taken the jewels to dispose of them in London. -Leave everything to me, Miss. I was in an inquiry office once, and -know how to go about these matters. But," he hesitated, "it will -require money." - -"Oh!" Lesbia uttered an ejaculation of dismay. "I have none." - -"Can't your father give you some, Miss?" - -Lesbia shook her head. "He wants me to marry Captain Sargent, and so -will not allow me to help Mr. Walker. No, my father will give me -nothing. What is to be done?" - -"I don't know, Miss. But I have no money and I must have at least -fifty pounds to work on. I shall learn about the burglary first and -then will discover who knocked down Mr. Walker and stole the cross." -He paused. "Has Tim saved any money?" - -"No, poor soul," sighed Lesbia, "my father never pays him any wages. I -am sure he would lend me the money if he had it. There is no one from -whom I can borrow, and----" here a sudden idea came to the girl, and -she flushed crimson with mingled hope and nervous fear. "Oh!" she -cried, "he might, he might." - -"Who might, Miss?" asked the man sharply. - -Lesbia took no notice. "Fifty pounds," she murmured. "It's a large sum -of money. Still he might. He----" she stopped again as she saw The -Shadow looking at her curiously. "Go away, Canning, and return -to-morrow evening. I hope to have the fifty pounds by then." - -"Miss," Canning spoke slowly and impressively, "you have honoured me -with your confidence, and you will never regret doing so, as I am -entirely devoted to you. Add to that confidence by telling me from -whom you design to borrow this fifty pounds." - -"There is no reason why you should not know," said Lesbia quickly, "I -am thinking of Lord Charvington." - -"Mr. Hale's cousin." - -"Oh, you know that," she cried, surprised. - -"Yes," The Shadow laughed in his whispering, silent way, rather oddly. -"I know more than you give me credit for. You see," he added, slowly, -and with a downcast face, "I was at school with your father and -Charvington." - -"You," Lesbia gasped in astonishment, and stared at the lean, dusky, -untidy figure before her. Then she remembered the scrupulous -refinement of the man, noted anew his excellent diction, and suddenly -saw in the weird face and figure evidences of good breeding. - -"Mr. Canning," she said suddenly, and gave him a new position at once, -"you are a gentleman!" - -"I _was_ a gentleman," he replied bitterly, and dropping his use of -the word "Miss." "Now I am Captain Sargent's valet and a wastrel. But -I am also your very devoted servant, Miss Hale," he bowed. "Let it -remain at that." - -"But how did you come to----" - -"Don't ask me--don't ask me," said Canning hurriedly. "Some day you -will learn how I came to occupy this position. Meanwhile, get the -fifty pounds from Charvington"--Lesbia noted that he spoke quite as an -equal of the nobleman--"and give it to me. I shall save your lover and -make your path straight for you." - -"Can you do this, Mr. Canning?" - -"Yes," he answered simply. "Good-night, Miss Hale. Please do not tell -Tim what I have mentioned, and say nothing to Charvington. To-morrow -night I shall come for the fifty, and the----" he paused, opened and -closed his hand several times, and then vanished with a sigh. He might -indeed have been a veritable shadow from the noiseless way in which he -disappeared. - -Lesbia remained spell-bound. In a flash it occurred to her that she -should long ago have guessed that The Shadow was other than he -appeared to be. Many things which had puzzled her became plain, and -she wondered how a gentleman had sunk so low as to be a spy, and to -occupy the position of Sargent's valet. But she had too much delicacy -to question Canning, until such time as he chose of his own free will -to speak out. - -Besides, she had much to think about in connection with her proposed -borrowing of fifty pounds from Lord Charvington. And unless she could -procure that sum, there would be no chance of George being saved from -the clutches of Maud Ellis. - -The nobleman in question was a cousin of Mr. Hale's and had once or -twice been to the cottage. Indeed, Lesbia had reason to believe that -Lord Charvington allowed her father a certain sum every quarter, -although this seemed strange in the face of Hale's assertion that he -could give her two thousand a year if she married to his liking. There -was also the business in the City about which Lesbia knew nothing. Why -should a man in business accept an annuity? - -It was all very strange, but then everything connected with Mr. Walter -Hale was strange, and now that Lesbia began to think, she began to -mistrust her father. Why did he keep his business secret? Why did he -accept an annuity, and then declare that he could give her a large -income? Why did he have such shady people at the cottage whom he -scarcely permitted her to see? Altogether Lesbia became aware that -there was something sinister about her father's position. She felt -like a watcher of a black cloud waiting for it to discharge lightning. -More than ever did she determine at least to have the mysteries of the -burglary and of the cross cleared up. The old time of peace had passed -away for the girl, and now she felt that she would have to go forth -and do battle. - -With regard to Charvington, she knew him moderately well. He had -always been kind to her, and she had heard her father state that the -nobleman was her godfather. It seemed rather cool to apply to him for -a loan of fifty pounds, but Lesbia was not only desperate but also -very unsophisticated in worldly ways. - -Almost without considering what she was about, she wrote a hurried -letter asking him to lend her fifty pounds for six months, and -promised to explain later why she desired the loan. She proposed in -her own mind to repay the money by selling the amethyst cross when -Canning should get it back for her, as she believed he would. - -Of course the whole business was very naïve and very childish, and a -girl more versed in worldly things would never have ventured to take -such a step. But Lesbia, just like a trusting child, asked for the -money, and posted her letter with a prayer that God would grant her -request. - -Like a newly-fledged gambler, who wins every game through sheer -ignorance, Lesbia's desperately-played card turned up trumps in four -and twenty hours. Lord Charvington sent her a cheque by return of post -and invited her to come and explain matters to him personally. Lesbia -danced with joy. - -"Now!" she said to herself. "George is safe. Thank God!" - - - - -CHAPTER XI -THE SEAMY SIDE - - -When Mr. Hale returned in three days from London, he was surprised to -find Lesbia extremely cheerful. She had every right to be, since she -had given the fifty-pound cheque to Canning, and he was now in town -looking into the matter of the Henley burglary. How Canning managed to -get away from his master so expeditiously, Lesbia could not tell, nor -did she inquire. It was quite enough for her to know that The Shadow -was searching into the case. To Lord Charvington she had sent a letter -thanking him for the money, and promising to come over and tell him -everything as soon as she could. These things made her hopeful and -bright in spite of her enforced severance from George, and she -managed, by looking towards a bright future, to possess her soul in -patience. But Hale was ignorant of what she was doing, and her -behaviour puzzled him. - -"I thought you loved Walker," he said abruptly, and with suspicion. - -"Of course I do," rejoined the girl cheerfully. - -"It does not seem like it." - -Lesbia shrugged her shoulders. "What is the use of crying over spilt -milk?" she asked. "My going about with a long face will not make -George's position any the more endurable. Some day when his character -has been cleared things will change." - -"They will never change," said Mr. Hale coldly and severely. "Walker -has committed a sordid crime, and can never marry you." - -"I don't believe that he is guilty," retorted Lesbia deliberately. -"And even if I grant for the sake of argument that he is, Miss Ellis -does not seem to think that his guilt is a bar to his marriage with -her." - -"She's a love-sick fool." - -"So am I." - -"With this difference, that she can marry him and you can't. And -talking of Miss Ellis," went on Hale, becoming more stern than ever; -"I saw her in London and she told me that you had actually been to see -her." - -"Why not?" asked Lesbia defiantly. "That is no crime." - -"It is an impertinence to see her and to talk to her as you did. Why -did you go, Lesbia?" - -"I wished to find out how she proposed to force George to become her -husband. I have learned that much. She intends to force him by telling -a lie." - -"How do you know that what she says is a lie?" demanded Hale angrily. - -"Because I read it in her eyes. A man would not have done so, but I am -a woman, and you can trust one woman to learn everything another woman -leaves unsaid, especially when a man is the stake between them." - -"You should have more modesty," snapped her father uncomfortably. - -Lesbia coloured. "I have behaved properly in every way," she said, in -a wounded voice; "and, as I love George, I had every right to learn -how this woman proposed to take him from me." - -"Well, you know now that she can." - -"She _thinks_ she can," said Lesbia, with emphasis; "that is -different." - -"Nonsense! She can prove that he took the key from her neck and stole -the jewels," insisted Mr. Hale. - -"It is her word against his," rejoined Lesbia drily; "and until Miss -Ellis proves the truth of her statement I believe in George's -innocence." - -"Lesbia," cried her father, rising, "what has come to you? Formerly -you used to be quiet and well-behaved and did as you were told; -now----" - -"Now," said the girl, getting on her feet and looking very straight at -her father; "now I am a woman, fighting for her happiness, and so will -do my best to hold my own against your tyranny." - -Hale did not like the word, and said so. "I am your father and no -tyrant." - -"You are both, and much more the latter than the former. I don't know -how it is," said Lesbia, pondering, "but I have an idea that you are -using me as a pawn in some game you are playing. Miss Ellis is in the -game also, and so is Captain Sargent. What the game may be I don't -know, and I decline to be pushed about a chess-board without knowing -why I move." - -"You shall do as you are told," said Hale, livid with secret rage, but -not daring to show it openly, lest he should lose more of his already -waning influence. - -"I shall do as I think fit," retorted the girl, her spirit up in arms. -"I don't care if you are fifty times my father, you shall not treat me -in this way any longer. If I can clear George's character, I shall see -him and marry him, and if you dare to bring in Mrs. Petty to spy on -me, I shall appeal to my godfather." - -"Your godfather. And who may he be?" - -"You told me once and I have never forgotten. Lord Charvington is -my----" - -"I spoke at random," broke in Hale hastily. "He is not your godfather. -He is nothing more than my cousin and my friend." - -"And your benefactor," said Lesbia, unable to resist the shaft. "And -being so, what will he say if he learns how unkindly you are -behaving?" - -"Lesbia, you are mad!" - -"No! For years I have been your puppet. Lately I have discovered that -I am a human being with a will of my own. So long as you leave me -alone I am content to behave as your daughter. But I decline to endure -tyranny, and I decline to be made use of in this mysterious game you -are playing. I am very glad you spoke to me this morning, father, as -it was time that we came to an understanding;" and Lesbia, with her -head up, marched out of the room. But she would have been scared had -she looked back and seen the expression on her father's face. It was -little less than devilish with rage and baffled cunning. - -The worm had been obedient for so long that Hale had never expected -the turning and it came upon him with a shock. He could not afford to -let Lesbia appeal for protection to his noble relative, as he knew -that Lord Charvington was the kindest of men and would, undoubtedly, -interfere. - -Of course in an ordinary case, Hale could have prevented such -interference between a father and daughter. But with Charvington, who -allowed him an annuity, it was different. If Hale did not behave well -to Lesbia, he felt very certain that Charvington would punish him by -taking away the quarterly sum. And in spite of his business in the -City, and his boast that he could give Lesbia two thousand a year, -Hale could not afford to lose so certain an income. - -He therefore said no more to Lesbia on the subjects of George and Miss -Ellis and the burglary. Nor did he bring back The Shadow and Mrs. -Petty. Indeed, he could not bring back the former, as he had heard -from Sargent that the man had thrown up his situation, and had gone to -London. - -This being the case, if Lesbia chose to see George it was impossible -to prevent her from having her own way. But Hale trusted that after -the letter of dismissal George would refuse to have anything to do -with the girl who had apparently thrown him over. Meanwhile he asked -Sargent to the cottage frequently, and advised him to prosecute his -wooing with all zeal. "If you don't secure the girl soon, you will -lose her," said Hale emphatically. - -"I shall do so as soon as I can get a chance of seeing her alone," -said Sargent, and strove to look the handsome, gallant lover. - -It was after dinner that he spoke thus; and in the light which came -through the rosy shades of the candles he seemed wonderfully young, -and not at all bad-looking. As usual, he was perfectly dressed in -evening array, and yet had that ultra-fashionable air, which is such a -mark of inferior breeding. Captain Alfred Sargent looked like a -gentleman, and yet there was something lacking in manner to complete -the dress and pretensions. The rosy lights made him look less -colourless for the moment; but when in pursuance of his object he -strolled into the garden to meet Lesbia, he became quite wan, white -and worn-looking in the warm summer moonlight. - -Miss Hale, in a simple white dress, looking sweet and girlish and -remarkably pretty, sat on the bench under the chestnut--in the -very place where George had made his memorable proposal. Disliking -Sargent as she did, and the more so since her father wished her to -marry him, she had early left the dinner-table to take refuge in this -love-haunted spot, and dream of George. - -With the inconsequence of a woman, she rather resented the fact that -her lover had not replied to his letter of dismissal. She had not -thought that he would accept her decision so readily, and in her heart -she desired that he should come along to take her by storm. At times -she fancied, indeed, that he would suddenly appear to carry her off to -the nearest church, and so frequently sought the garden to afford him -an opportunity to play "Young Lochinvar." - -There was also another reason. In the garden she hoped to meet The -Shadow. Lately, he had sent her a line--through Tim--stating that he -had discovered a clue to the robbery, and that he would come down to -tell her about it. Lesbia appointed the bottom of the garden as the -best place of meeting as her father rarely came there, and Canning -could easily row up to the landing-stage in the twilight. Every -evening she expected him, but as yet he had not appeared. Thus, she -was much annoyed when she beheld the slender form of the ex-captain in -the distance. - -With a cigarette in his mouth, which he was languidly smoking, Sargent -strolled pensively down the path, and finally came to a halt before -the pretty figure on the garden-seat. Lesbia looked at him blankly, -and gave him no encouragement. - -"A penny for your thoughts, Miss Hale," said the gallant captain, -forced by her silence to utter the first word. - -"They are worth the Bank of England," replied Lesbia, resolving to -make the best of this bore, since to get rid of him by plain speaking -only meant unnecessary trouble with her father. - -"In that case," said Sargent softly, and advancing nearer, "may I hope -they were of me?" - -"If you are so very egotistic," said the girl bitingly, "you can think -so." - -"You are cruel," muttered Sargent, somewhat disconcerted. He had not -expected so cutting a speech from so apparently timid a girl. "Why are -you so cruel to me, Lesbia--I may call you Lesbia, may I not?" - -"No," said Lesbia coldly, "I see no reason why you should. As to being -cruel, Captain Sargent, I am not aware that I am." - -"Surely," fenced the captain, "you are aware that I love you." - -Lesbia laughed, and he was more disconcerted than ever. "I am aware -that my father wishes me to marry you; but he said nothing of love." - -"He left it for me to say." - -"Well, then, say it," remarked Miss Hale cruelly. - -Sargent had met plenty of women and, with his good looks and -reputation for wealth, had usually scored an easy victory. But this -girl was so straightforward and so absolutely calm that he did not -know how to proceed. With an uneasy laugh he strove to fall into her -humour. "I love you," he stammered. - -"Why?" asked Lesbia, still calm and exasperating. - -"Look in the glass, and ask me why," he said ardently. "Can I behold -such loveliness and----" - -"Captain Sargent," she broke in, smiling broadly, "you speak just like -a lover of the mid-Victorian epoch. I have read such speeches in -books, and I have always thought them exceedingly silly. Be more -original!" - -Don Giovanni himself would have turned restive when advised to alter -his style of love-making, and Captain Sargent's waxen face grew red -with wrath. He was a bloodless person, so his anger was more like that -of a fretful child than that of a man. - -Lesbia looked at him with a contempt which he found hard to bear. She -wanted a man to master her as all women do, and she saw that this -wooer could never dominate. - -"You are very unkind, Lesbia," was all that Sargent could find to say. - -"In that case, why not leave me and go back to my father?" - -"Because I came from your father. He wants you to marry me. I want it -also. Come," he went on coaxingly, "be my wife, Lesbia, and you shall -have everything that the world can give you." - -"I daresay. Everything but a husband." - -"I shall be your husband." - -"You!" she looked him up and down until he reddened to the roots of -his straw-coloured hair. "I would rather be excused." - -"You won't marry me." - -"Certainly not." - -Sargent grew childish with rage. "If you do not there will be trouble. -I can ruin that man you love--that bounder Walker!" - -"He is not a bounder; he is a man, and it will take a stronger man -than you, Captain Sargent, to harm him." - -"But I _can_ harm him, and I shall do so," cried the captain, and his -delicate face took on an expression of cunning. Weak as he was, Lesbia -could see that wounded vanity might make him dangerous. "This -burglary----" - -"What do you know about it?" demanded Lesbia imperiously. - -"Walker is guilty. Miss Ellis says so." - -"For her own ends she says so, and you act in the same way. She wants -to marry George, and you want to marry me. It won't do, Captain -Sargent. Things are not to be settled in that fashion. You had -better," she laughed, "marry Miss Ellis yourself." - -"I love you; I want to marry you." - -"I am sorry," said Lesbia sedately, "but I decline." - -"For your father's sake," urged Sargent weakly, angry, and -looking more dangerously cunning than ever. "I can harm him also. I -can----" He saw from the startled expression on the girl's face that -he was saying too much, and abruptly turned on his heel. "I shall come -for my answer to-morrow, Lesbia," he called out, as he walked swiftly -towards the house. - -The girl remained where she was, wondering what this new threat meant. -She could understand how he could support her father and Maud in -harming George, but it was difficult to understand how he could harm -Mr. Hale. - -In a flash the old unrest came over Lesbia, and she again pondered her -father's unaccountable secrecy, and recalled his shady acquaintances. -Then again, there was Canning, who was a gentleman and had been to -school with Mr. Hale, only to degenerate into Sargent's valet. It was -all very singular and somewhat startling, and Lesbia puzzled over it -hopelessly, until she was aroused from a somewhat painful brown study -by a low whistle. - -She looked up and around, to see a boat by the landing-stage, and in -the boat Mr. Canning, apparently more frail than ever. Sargent was -also shadowy, and it dawned upon Lesbia that the two might be related. - -"Captain Sargent has just left me," she said, running down to the -landing-stage. "He wanted to marry me and I refused." - -"You were quite right, Miss Hale. If you married Sargent, you would be -ruined for ever." - -"He threatened to harm my father if I did not, and George also." - -Mr. Canning threw back his head and laughed silently. "He can do his -best to harm Walker by supporting Miss Ellis in her lie, but it will -take a much stronger man than Alfred to----" here he became aware that -he had appeared unduly familiar with his late master's name. - -"I thought so," said Lesbia, recalling how like the two men were in -looks and fragility; "you are related to Captain Sargent; you are his -brother." - -"Yes," said Mr. Canning, looking very pale. "Since you have guessed so -cleverly I may as well admit it. But I shall not tell you my story -now. Later will be time enough. Meanwhile, say nothing to your father -about having guessed that Alfred is my brother. How did you----" - -"Oh," said Lesbia smiling, "you are exactly alike. Both pale and -both slender, with the same cast of face and the same colour of hair, -and--oh, it's wonderful!--I believe you are twins." - -Mr. Canning shirked this question. He came ashore and passed with -Lesbia under the chestnut tree, behind the trunk, in fact, so that -they might not be seen from the cottage windows. - -"I have discovered the truth," he said, in his usual whisper, "but at -present you must not ask me how I came to learn it. But George Walker -is innocent. Mr. Tait had the jewels stolen so as to get the insurance -money." - -Lesbia gasped with amazement. "Are you certain?" she demanded, and -when he nodded, asked another question. "How did you learn so -quickly?" - -"That is a secret just now," said Canning equably. "Remember that I -warned you before, that you must not ask that question. It is -sufficient to say that I found out how Mr. Tait insured these jewels -for a large sum of money, and then employed two clever London thieves -to steal them. Tait will get the insurance money, and he will also -unset the jewels and sell them in India and America. Of course, the -thieves will have to be paid for the risk they took, though it was not -a great one, as Tait left the gallery doors open, and gave them the -key which he had on his watch-chain to open the safe. If Miss Ellis -had not come down; if Walker had not followed, there would have been -no scandal." - -"Mr. Canning," said Lesbia, after a moment's thought, "did Miss Ellis -know that this robbery was about to take place? From all that I have -heard of her she is deep in her uncle's confidence." - -"I cannot be sure if she is an accessory before the fact," replied -Canning, speaking in legal phraseology. - -"But I can," cried the girl, leaping to a conclusion with the -intuitive certainty of a woman. "I see the whole scheme. Miss Ellis -knew that the jewels would be stolen somewhere about three o'clock in -the morning, and so appointed that hour to meet George, and implicate -him in the crime. It was a carefully arranged trap into which he -walked wholly unconsciously." - -"But her reason?" asked Canning, somewhat perplexed. - -Lesbia laughed. "You are a mere man, Mr. Canning, and cannot -understand. It takes a woman to fathom the duplicity of another woman. -Miss Ellis loved George, and as he would not marry her willingly, she -lured him into this trap, so as to--oh!" Lesbia broke off, clenching -her little fists and stamping with anger. "But she shall not! she -shall not! I shall see her and defy her. And you, Mr. Canning--you?" - -"I am returning to London, to hide," said the man quietly; "but I can -come down here when it is necessary. I shall send you my address as -soon as I arrange where to conceal myself." - -"But why should you conceal yourself?" - -"That is too long a story to tell you at present. It is enough for -you to know that what I have discovered about Tait--what I have told -you--is dangerous to me. No, Miss Hale, do not ask me further -questions, for I dare not answer. I have jeopardised my liberty, and -perhaps my life, by what I have done for you." - -"I do not understand," said Lesbia, somewhat scared. - -"It is as well that you do not," said Canning, sombrely. "Bluebeard's -chamber is a dangerous room to look into. When it is necessary--if it -ever is--you shall know what I am concealing now. Meanwhile, I shall -go into hiding in London." - -"What am I to do?" - -"See Miss Ellis," rejoined The Shadow promptly. "Tell her what I have -discovered, and give my name as your authority--that is, say how -Captain Sargent's servant looked into the matter. You can suppress the -fact of my being a gentleman and Sargent's brother. Tell Miss Ellis -also that when the time comes I can prove that her uncle had the -jewels stolen so as to get the insurance money, in addition to the -money from the sale of the jewels in order to tide over a financial -crisis. Twenty thousand from the jewels and a like amount from -Lloyd's," ended Canning cynically, "will give Mr. Tait ample funds -with which to retrieve his position. He was in danger of bankruptcy, -but this crime, engineered by himself, has saved his credit." - -"What wickedness!" murmured Lesbia, as Canning moved towards his boat. - -"Oh, such doings are classed under the head of business by people like -Tait. But I must get away before my brother or your father sees me;" -and Canning loosened the painter, slipped into the boat, and took the -oars, not without an anxious glance at the cottage. - -"Thank you for what you have done," cried Lesbia softly, remaining, -for obvious reasons, behind the tree-trunk. - -"Not at all. I have only repaid my debt--that is, if such a debt can -ever be paid. Au revoir, Miss Hale!" and raising his shabby cap with -all the good breeding of a gentleman, Canning pulled away with an -easy, clean stroke, which could only have been learned at a public -school. - - - - -CHAPTER XII -A COUNTERPLOT - - -Captain Sargent was somewhat disheartened by Lesbia's steady -opposition to his wooing. He was not virile enough to take her heart -by storm, and his usual tactics did not seem to succeed with this -cool, quiet, observant girl, who looked at him so straight. Also his -threats of harming George Walker and Mr. Hale proved to be but blunt -weapons and could not penetrate the shield of Lesbia's composure. -Sargent retreated from the field of battle thoroughly beaten, and he -must have confessed as much to Hale, for that gentleman took his -daughter to task when she returned to the cottage after her secret -interview with Canning. The unsuccessful lover had already departed, -and Lesbia listened for ten minutes to her father's denunciations of -what he was pleased to style her wickedness. - -"You ought to be flattered that so rich and handsome a man loves you," -raged Mr. Hale, who for once in his life lost his self-control. "You -seem to forget that if I died to-morrow--and I might as my heart is -affected--you would be left penniless." - -Lesbia raised her eyebrows. "I understood you to say that you could -leave me two thousand a year," she observed quietly. - -"If you marry as I wish," cried her father furiously, "not otherwise. -Failing your becoming the wife of my dear friend, Sargent, I shall -leave the money to Lord Charvington." - -"Well," said the girl cheerfully, "that would only be fair, since he -has paid you a pension for so long." - -"What do you know about that?" snapped Hale, changing colour. - -"Very little. But you certainly told me in an expansive moment that -Lord Charvington, as your cousin, allowed you a small income." - -"Precious small," muttered Hale, not contradicting. - -"But why does he allow you anything?" asked Lesbia, very directly, -"with two thousand a year you cannot wish for his help." - -Hale took a turn up and down the room, then stopped opposite to his -daughter and spoke in quieter tones, but none the less emphatic. "I am -not enjoying two thousand a year at present," he declared slowly, "and -so accept an annuity from Charvington, who, being my cousin, has every -right to assist me." - -"I don't see that," murmured the girl, shrugging. - -"It doesn't matter what you see, or what you don't see," cried Hale, -his temper again getting beyond control. "Do as you are told, or -chance the consequences." - -"Be a pawn in fact," she rejoined ironically. "A pawn on your -chess-board." - -Hale shrugged in his turn. "Put it how you like," he retorted, "but -obey." - -"Certainly not. I am a human being and have the right to----" - -"You have the right to do nothing," broke in her father desperately. -"See here, my girl, you are making a great mistake by not letting me -guide you. Had you been open about that amethyst cross, I should never -have allowed you to give it to George Walker. Its possession means -more than you think. The two thousand a year depends upon its -production." - -"Oh!" Lesbia opened her eyes widely. "I see. Then you are willing that -I should marry George if you get this two thousand." - -"Yes," said Hale bluntly, "but for circumstances which do not concern -you--I prefer that you should marry Sargent." - -"Marriage with anyone concerns me a great deal," said Lesbia coolly, -"and I decline to marry a man I do not love. As to the cross: it was -my own property left to me by my mother, and if its production will -bring me two thousand a year I am very sorry it is lost." - -"I did not say that it meant two thousand a year to _you_," said Hale -uneasily, and with a scowl. - -"Pardon me, father. I assume that, since I am the owner of the cross. -However, it is lost and neither I nor you know where to find it. That -being the case I refuse to marry Captain Sargent and shall marry -George." - -"You have sent him away: you forget that." - -"I can bring him again to my feet." - -"Lesbia Lesbia! you are playing with fire." - -"Probably, but I shall continue to play until you tell me the meaning -of all these things." - -"I have told you about the cross----" - -"Quite so," interrupted the girl drily, "and I now know why George was -assaulted and his mother's cottage robbed." - -"You dare to say that I am the guilty person," demanded her father -suspiciously. - -"Oh no. If you were, you would have the cross; and thus being able to -get the two thousand a year, you would not oppose my marriage with -George. You are innocent!" - -"Thank you for nothing," sneered Hale coolly, "but you can reckon on -this, Lesbia, that if I could have knocked down George and have robbed -him of the cross I should have done so." - -"That is candid, father." - -"You asked me to be candid. But, hold your tongue, or else talk sense. -You must marry Sargent. I shall not allow you to throw yourself away -on that thief, and----" - -"Stop!" cried Lesbia, rising indignantly, "you shall not call George -names in my hearing. He is no thief." - -"Can you prove that?" - -It was on the tip of the girl's tongue to speak out and accuse Tait. -But she first desired to see Maud Ellis in order to cut her claws, and -therefore, with a self-restraint far beyond her years, she shook her -head. - -Hale sneered again, "You are a silly romantic fool," he scoffed, "and -sooner or later I shall force you to do my will." - -"Never! Never! Never!" - -"Oh, very well," replied Hale, baffled by her obstinacy, "then I shall -go to London and leave you here. I shall not speak to you, or eat with -you, or have anything to do with you, until you obey me as a daughter -should," and turning on his heel, he departed in cold anger. - -Hale duly kept his promise and went away leaving the girl to her own -devices. But so clever a man should have known that the punishment--as -he deemed it--was no punishment at all. He had never been a father to -Lesbia in the accepted sense of the word, and she had but small -affection for him. Alone with Tim, she was much happier than when in -Mr. Hale's chilling presence, and preferred his room to his company. -Also, he was really playing into her hands, as she wished to be alone -in order to see Maud and bring her to reason. It was not Lesbia's wish -to call again at Henley, as she thought that she could deal better -with Miss Ellis when she was on her native heath. Therefore, now that -Hale was out of the way, and she was free to do what she desired, she -set to work to concoct a plot, whereby to bring Maud Ellis to the -cottage at Marlow. - -To this end she wrote a letter stating that she and George were to be -married shortly, and that Miss Ellis's scheme had failed. This artful -epistle she posted to Henley, hoping that if Miss Ellis was in London -it would be forwarded to her there. She felt certain--since, being a -woman, she knew woman's nature better than a man could know it--that -Maud would seek an interview and come to Rose Cottage. Of course there -was the chance that Maud might first interview Walker, and then learn -the falsity of the statement. But in that case, George would come to -learn the truth, and then she could tell him what Canning had -discovered. In fact, owing to the skilful way in which Lesbia played -her one trump card, she was certain to bring to the cottage either -Maud Ellis or George Walker: and whichever came, she was prepared to -deal with the situation. All the same, she hoped that Maud would be -the one to put in an appearance, as if she could silence her, she -could then call at the Medmenham cottage and explain to her lover the -reason why she had dismissed him. Accordingly, when the letter setting -the trap was posted, Lesbia sat down to think over the behaviour of -Walker. - -It puzzled her that he should so tamely accept his dismissal. On the -face of it she had treated him cruelly, and had given no reason for -abruptly breaking off the engagement. All the same, she considered, -woman-like, that he should not have acquiesced too readily to her -proposal that they should never meet again. But she forgot that George -was a proud man, and that the sole reason he could assign for her -dismissing him, was the fact that he was suspected of robbery. If she -believed him guilty--George, as she might have thought, would have -argued in this way--and had not sufficient love to stand up for him, -then she was not worthy of the worship he bestowed on her. But Lesbia -did not think thus. She only knew that she had sent George to the -right-about and that he had gone away without looking back for a -single moment. This was not as it should be, said the woman within -her, and therefore she secretly felt annoyed with Walker for his too -ready obedience. It can therefore be seen that Lesbia Hale was -intensely feminine. Perhaps on that account George loved her the more, -since the unexpected in woman is always what lures the man. - -However, think what she would, and argue as she might, the fact -remained that Walker kept away from Rose Cottage and that she had not -sufficient courage to face her lover, when under the wing of his -mother. Lesbia missed the golden days of wooing dreadfully, and in -their absence was anxious to carry on her counterplot, if only to fill -in the time. Besides, there would be a considerable amount of pleasure -in beating Miss Ellis with her own weapons. It was therefore a happy -day to Lesbia that brought the stockbroker's niece into the trap, as -this time the biter was about to be bitten. And Lesbia, being a woman -and dealing with a woman, determined to show no mercy since Maud had -shown none. Besides, the two were fighting over a man, and so reverted -to the ethics of cave life and pre-historic struggle. - -Within four days of the posting of the letter, Miss Ellis arrived and -was shown by Tim into the tiny drawing-room. It was empty, as Lesbia -had seen her rival coming, and therefore had departed to change her -frock. Also she hoped to make Maud lose her temper by enforced -waiting, knowing that if she did, there would be less difficulty in -dealing with her. Unsophisticated as Lesbia was, she instinctively -knew how to fight. Her tactics were correct, for when she entered -spick and span and smiling into the drawing-room, she found Maud -fuming restlessly, and quite ready to pick a quarrel on the score of -uncivil treatment. - -"I have been kept waiting," said Miss Ellis in a Louis XIV tone, and -putting up a lorgnette to glare at her much too beautiful rival. - -"I am so sorry," responded Lesbia politely. "But I was not dressed to -receive anyone, and your visit is unexpected." - -Maud laughed contemptuously. "You knew that I would come," she -declared with conviction. "You have been looking out for me every -day." - -"_You_ say so," said Lesbia, still graciously, for since the last -interview at Henley, she had changed her tactics with Miss Ellis. -"Will you not be seated? This chair is most comfortable, it has its -back to the light." - -"I don't need to sit with my back to the light," flashed Maud -indignantly. - -"Oh, I beg pardon, but from that lorgnette I thought that your eyes -might be weak. Sit here then, in the full warmth of the sunshine." - -But Miss Ellis knew better than to let the searching light reveal her -age too clearly to her hostess. "I'll sit here," she declared -abruptly, and came to rest on the sofa. - -"That's right," said Lesbia caressingly, "It's a nice shady corner." - -Maud bit her lip, knowing perfectly well that Lesbia was casting a -reflection on her age. But having taken the seat she could scarcely -leave it without laying herself open to further pointed remarks, so -she remained where she was and came to the object of her visit at -once. "What do you mean by writing me this letter?" she demanded, -producing the epistle of her hostess. - -"I mean to show you that your plot to part George and myself has -failed." - -Miss Ellis crushed up the letter savagely. "Has it," she inquired, -"seeing that you have broken your engagement?" - -"How do you know that?" - -"Mrs. Walker told me. And very glad she is I can tell you. Mrs. Walker -is an old friend of my uncle's and has known me for years. She wants -George to marry me. She told me so only a few days ago." - -"As if it mattered what she said," retorted Lesbia contemptuously. - -"She is George's mother." - -"No one denies that." - -"And as he is her son, he should obey her." - -"Even when she wants him to marry a woman he cares nothing for." - -"George does care for me," cried Maud, a deep flush overspreading her -face even to the roots of her sandy hair. "I admit that when he was -engaged to you, he would not look at me. But now that you have thrown -him over so cruelly, he has turned to me for consolation." - -"I don't believe it," said Lesbia quickly. - -"You must, you shall," snapped Miss Ellis very much in earnest. "Look -here, this sort of thing won't do." - -"What sort of thing?" - -"This enmity you have towards me. I don't know why you are behaving so -exasperatingly," wailed Maud plaintively. "When you came to Henley, it -was the first time we met, and for your father's sake I was anxious to -make a friend of you. But you were so rude and so silly that I could -not. But I am willing to make every allowance for your want of -training, and so I have come here to ask you to be friends." - -"Oh, I don't mind, provided you will leave George alone." - -"I shan't, so there. I love him." - -"So do I. And as he loves me I have the prior claim." - -"But you have broken your engagement and so have left the field open -to me. Don't be a dog in the manger." - -"I am not. I love George and I have always loved him. I sent the -letter I did because of what my father told me. You lured George into -a trap, and--as you said yourself at Henley--you can get him arrested. -Because of your attitude I was compelled to dismiss him, or see him -ruined." - -Miss Ellis put up her lorgnette with an air of triumph. "You have -stated the case accurately, save for one remark," she declared. "I -_can_ ruin George Walker, and I shall do so unless he marries me. But -I did not lure him into a trap. I merely took advantage of -circumstances." - -"Which you knew existed." - -"What do you mean by that?" - -"What I say," retorted Lesbia, keeping her eyes on Maud's face. "You -appointed that place and that hour of meeting in order to implicate -George in a robbery which you knew was about to take place." - -Miss Ellis sprang to her feet with a white face and trembling hands. -"You go too far," she said, in a suffocating voice. "Why should -I?--Why should I?--Oh," she stamped, "your remarks are infamous." - -"They are true." - -"It's a lie! they are not true. I had no idea that my uncle's -strong-room was to be robbed of those jewels on that night and at that -hour. If I had known I should have prevented the robbery." - -"Mr. Tait would not have thanked you for doing so," replied Lesbia -meaningly. - -"Are you mad?" gasped Maud, and her face became a dull brick-red. - -"No," answered Lesbia drily, "I am merely well-informed." - -"Informed of what?" Miss Ellis moistened her dry lips. - -"That Mr. Tait wanted money to tide over a financial crisis, and -arranged to have the jewels stolen, so that he could sell them -secretly." - -"It's a lie--a lie," cried Maud again, and the perspiration broke out -on her quivering face; "my uncle is a wealthy man: everyone knows -that. If he wanted money he could have sold the jewels openly--they -were his own." - -"You forget the insurance at Lloyd's." - -Maud dropped on to the sofa as though she had been shot. "The -insurance?" - -"Yes. Mr. Tait insured those jewels for something like twenty thousand -pounds, and so had them stolen. Certainly he could have sold them -openly, as you say, but then he would have got only half the money he -requires." - -"Half the money?" Maud gasped again, and suddenly looked double her -age. - -"Of course, twenty thousand pounds. By insuring the jewels and by -having them stolen, he will gain the proceeds of the sale he has -arranged with the thieves, besides the twenty thousand from the -insurance." - -"You dare--to--accuse--my--oh," Maud jumped up fiercely and stamped -angrily, "it is ridiculous; what proof have you of this absurd tale?" - -"I have absolute proof," said Lesbia quietly and rising in her turn. -"Mr. Canning--The Shadow--who watched me here at my father's request, -found out what I say and, if necessary, he can prove the truth of what -he found out. And he will, at my request, if you do not promise to -leave George alone and swear that you will not accuse him of a crime -of which--as you knew all the time--he is innocent." - -But Maud heard only half this speech. "Canning, The Shadow," she -muttered, "do you mean Captain Sargent's valet?" - -"Yes. I nursed him through an illness, and he has shown his gratitude -to me by discovering your uncle's plot, and proving your knowledge of -it. I can prove what I say with Canning's assistance, and I shall do -so, unless you promise to do as I have asked you." - -Maud buttoned her jacket with trembling hands and moved towards the -door hastily. "You are talking rubbish," she muttered in a thick -voice. "I refuse to talk of the matter. It is too silly. But," she -faced round, "I shall tell my uncle, and he shall have you put in -gaol." - -"He will be in gaol himself," retorted Lesbia "As soon as you leave -this house, I shall arrange with Mr. Canning to go to the police and -state what he told me." - -"You would not dare." - -"Yes, I would, unless you swear not to accuse George and promise to -leave him to me. I said that before: I say so again, and for the last -time." - -"It's a----" Maud was about to say that it was a lie for the third -time, but the word died away on her lips. Whether Maud was cognizant -of the plot to steal the jewels Lesbia could not say, as she made no -remark on this point: but her very silence showed that she was in the -business. Lesbia's attitude left her no alternative but to make terms, -since if she left the house, there was every danger that her uncle -might be arrested. "If I do what you ask, will you hold your tongue?" -Maud demanded faintly. - -"Then you admit that what I say is true?" countered Miss Hale. - -"No," almost shouted Miss Ellis, "I do not. Still, mud sticks however -wrongly thrown, and I do not want my uncle to suffer through me. As to -Canning, oh, my uncle will deal with him I promise you. Not a word. I -agree to all you ask. I must. I shall not accuse George: I shall leave -him to you and," she leaned forward with a snarl, "I shall bring -misery on you at the eleventh hour." - -"I defy you," retorted Lesbia with scorn. - -"Very good." Maud smiled in an evil way. "We shall see who wins the -dangerous game you are playing. I----" she broke off abruptly and left -in haste. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII -MRS. WALKER'S VISIT - -The meeting of the two girls who loved George seemed destined to end -abruptly. On the first occasion Lesbia had broken short the interview -at Henley, and on the second Maud had hastened away from Rose Cottage. -Lesbia wondered that she had not remained to talk further, and was -rather anxious when she remembered that Maud had left with a threat on -her lips. Miss Ellis was clever and cunning and reckless, and in one -way or another might work mischief. Not that Lesbia saw any chance of -her doing any, since she knew too much for Maud's peace of mind. -Without doubt what Canning had discovered was true, else Maud would -not have surrendered so easily. Lesbia thought until she was weary -about the matter, and especially how Canning could have discovered the -truth so speedily. She would have asked him point-blank in spite of -his prohibition, but that he was in London. And as yet he had not -written to tell where he was hiding. - -However, as things stood, there was no doubt that Maud would keep her -promise, and that George was safe. On the day after the stockbroker's -niece had paid her visit, Lesbia wrote a long letter to Walker, and -detailed all that Canning had discovered and also narrated its effect -on Maud Ellis. Further, she gave George to understand how she had been -compelled to write the letter of dismissal, and ended up with a fond -wish that her lover should come and see her at once. When this letter -was posted Lesbia began to dream of Walker's speedy return, and -haunted the garden in order to see his boat coming swiftly down the -river. - -But the boat never came, nor did any letter from George. Day after day -Lesbia watched the stream: watched also the postman, but in every case -she was disappointed. Walker must have received the letter, else it -would have been returned through the Dead Letter Office, so it was -strange, seeing how she had explained matters, that he did not appear. -Or at least he might have written. The girl wearying for love grew -peaked and wan, much to the distress of Tim, who could not understand. -Finally, Lesbia told him the whole story, and sent him over to the -cottage at Medmenham to see if Walker had received the letter. Tim -returned somewhat downcast. - -"Masther Garge has been in London these six days," said Tim, "and the -misthress--his blissid mother, towld me she'd sint the letter to him. -He's got it, me dear, but the divil knows why he doesn't write ye the -scratch av a pen. Augh, me dear, nivir trouble him again. Sure there's -more fish in the say nor ivir come out av that same." - -"George is the only man in the world for me," said Lesbia firmly, -although the tears were in her eyes, "and I'll never give him up, -until I hear him say that he loves another. This is Miss Ellis's -work." - -"Och murder, me dear, it's a baste she is entoirely. But from what ye -towld me, Miss, ye drew the teeth av her." - -"She went away with a threat," sighed Lesbia dismally. "She can't -force my George to marry her now; but evidently she can prevent his -returning to me as I want him to. Oh Tim, what am I to do now?" - -"See Masther Garge and ask him plain, Miss." - -"But I have not the money to go to London, and besides, I do not know -where George is stopping," protested Lesbia, wringing her hands. - -"See his ould mother, the saints be good to her! for an iceberg she -is," suggested Tim after a pause. "Sure she'll tell ye where he is, me -dear." - -"No, Tim, no. Mrs. Walker hates my father, and would rather die than -see her son become my husband." - -"Hates the masther, is ut?" muttered the crooked little man frowning. -"And if so, me darlin' heart, why shud she come to see him?" - -"Come to see him," echoed Lesbia staring, "why Mrs. Walker has never -been here to see my father in her life. I understood from George that -she hated my father. In that case she will never come here. If she did -come," sighed Lesbia, "I might soften her heart so that she might be -on my side. I am sure I could win her over." - -"Well, Miss Lesbia, ye can but try, for the ould woman is coming here -to-morrow afternoon to see the masther." - -"But he's away, Tim." - -"Sure, Miss, he sint me the scratch av a pin sayin' he was coming back -this very day. I towld the ould woman, whin she axed me, so she's -coming to have a talk wid him. An' the divil will make a third wid -them two," muttered Tim crossing himself, "saints kape us from harm!" - -Lesbia was much astonished at this news, as Mrs. Walker had never been -to Rose Cottage before, and moreover--on the word of her son--she both -despised and hated Mr. Hale. The girl wondered if the visit had -anything to do with the letter she had lately written to George. -Perhaps Maud's threat had meant that she would enlist Mrs. Walker on -her side to stop the marriage, since Maud herself, for obvious -reasons, was powerless to do so. But then, in any case, Mrs. Walker -disapproved of the marriage, so there was no need for Maud to -interfere. Also, if the letter had been forwarded to George in -London--and Lesbia saw no reason why it should not have been -forwarded--he must have received the same. If so, why did he not -reply, seeing that she had completely exonerated herself, and was -anxious to renew the engagement which for George's own sake she had -been forced to break? Poor Lesbia thought over these questions until -she was weary and her head ached, but she could find no reply. The -only thing to be done, was to wait until the formidable Mrs. Walker -arrived: then a few minutes' conversation with her might reveal the -reason of George's strange behaviour. - -Mr. Hale duly returned, and seemed even angrier and more sullen than -he had been before he went away. He scarcely spoke to his daughter, -and several times he looked at her with positive dread in his usually -cold eyes. It appeared as though he considered Lesbia as a careless -child with a box of matches, who might at any moment set the house on -fire. Lesbia had a feeling that he was terribly angry with her, and -yet that this anger was mixed with a certain amount of dread. However, -he contented himself with looking daggers, and to avoid further -disturbances, she did not ask him any questions. But the house was -very uncomfortable. Then at breakfast next morning, on the day when -Mrs. Walker was expected, Hale surprised the girl by announcing an -invitation. - -"I saw Lord Charvington when I was in town," said Hale, keeping his -pale eyes on his plate. "For some reason he chose to remember your -existence." - -Lesbia gasped, and wondered if Charvington had told her father of the -money she had borrowed. In that case Hale would question her as to the -use she had made of it, and then her counterplot with Canning would -come to light with disastrous results. But Hale's further conversation -made it plain that Charvington had said nothing about the loan. - -"He asked how you were," pursued Hale softly, and still keeping his -eyes on his plate, "and if you had grown up a pretty girl. He hasn't -seen you for a long time, remember. Considering how badly you have -behaved, Lesbia, I spoke better of you than you deserved, so -Charvington--prepare yourself for a surprise--has asked you to stop at -his country-house. He told me that his wife would send you the -invitation." - -"It is very good of him," said Lesbia faintly. "But I really do not -want to go, father." - -Hale looked up with a scowl. "Always opposition," he grumbled, "you -_shall_ go, child. If you won't marry Sargent, there will be a chance -of your making a good match when under Lady Charvington's wing. She -has daughters of her own, too, so you will have a very good time." - -"Why should Lord Charvington ask me?" - -"I can't say. . . . He suddenly seems to have remembered your -existence. Of course, as my daughter you are related to him. However, -the chance of a visit at such a country house is a very good one for -you, so get ready to start when the invitation comes. Do you want any -frocks, or----" - -"No. I have everything," said Lesbia, rising; "after all perhaps the -change will do me good, and I should like to see a little of the -world." - -"You will see plenty of it with Charvington and his wife. They are a -gay couple, and entertain largely. They are at their country seat near -Maidenhead for a week; but if you play your cards well Lady -Charvington may take you to London for the rest of the season." - -Lesbia nodded and went into the garden. Here she sat on the bench -under the chestnut, and thought over the glittering prospect which was -now open to her. She loved George and was contented with the quiet -life, provided he shared it with her. But as he was absent and was -behaving so very strangely, she thought that it would be best to -plunge into society if only to forget her aching heart. And if George -would not marry her, it might be that she would meet with some other -man, who would take her away from the uncomfortable life with her -father. In her own heart Lesbia knew that she could love no one but -George Walker. Still she could not force him to marry her, and he -appeared to have accepted her letter of dismissal as final in spite of -the second epistle stating why she wrote the first. The poor girl felt -very sad and very lonely, and her tears rained down, salt and bitter, -as she sat a solitary figure under the glorious tree. The blackbird -was piping again, as he had done when George proposed; but it seemed -to her ears that the song was now sad. But that probably was mere -fancy. - -At one o'clock Lesbia returned to the cottage, wondering why all these -troubles had come upon her. It really seemed as though Tim's idea -about the bad luck of the cross was true, for ever since she had -bestowed it on her lover there had been nothing but sorrow and -mystery. Even George had not escaped misfortune, since he had been -assaulted and robbed, and had lost his situation through being accused -unjustly of a crime he had never committed. But Lesbia was a reader of -fairy tales, and remembered that the prince and princess always have -much grief before peace and joy arrive, so she hoped that in some -way--she could not see how--the bad luck which was upon her and George -would pass away leaving them married and rich and happy. But, at -present, it must be confessed that there did not appear to be much -chance of such good fortune. - -"The ould woman has come this very minit," whispered Tim, meeting the -girl at the back door. "I've put her in the parlour, but the masther -is out." - -"My father is certain to come into luncheon," said Lesbia hurriedly. - -"Av coorse he is," muttered Tim, "a mighty dainty man he is fur the -inside av him. But she's axing for you, Miss, and----" - -"I'll go to her," interrupted Lesbia, "meanwhile, Tim, lay another -place at the table. I daresay Mrs. Walker is hungry." - -With these instructions Lesbia sought the small parlour, and entered -to find it occupied by a modern Lady Macbeth. Mrs. Walker clothed in -rich but funereal-looking garments of the deepest black was seated -majestically on the sofa. Without rising she raised a pair of piercing -eyes to look at the girl, and a brief expression of surprise flitted -across her impassive face. She had scarcely expected to find the girl -so beautiful, as she had always taken her son's enthusiastic -descriptions with a grain of salt. However, she privately admitted -that George was right for once and she greeted the girl with stiff -kindness. And indeed it was hard even for a lady of Mrs. Walker's hard -nature to be angry with Lesbia, who looked such a child, and who -behaved so sweetly. - -"I am very glad to see you," said Mrs. Walker, looking anxiously into -the girl's delicate face. "You remind me of someone who--no, I can't -recall of whom you remind me. Still--" she searched anxiously--"you -are very like someone I knew." - -"Perhaps my mother," Lesbia ventured to remark. "My late nurse, -Bridget Burke, told me I closely resembled my mother." - -"I never met your mother," said Mrs. Walker, dropping Lesbia's hand -quickly and becoming stiffer than ever. "Your father and I were never -friends, my dear. I should not be here to-day, save that I have come -to ask him about some business connected with money I expect to -inherit. Also," added Mrs. Walker unexpectedly, "I wanted to see you. -George had talked much of you, my child, and seems to have loved you -greatly. I can't blame him, and the wonder is that he should give you -up." - -Lesbia clasped her small hands and sank into a chair, her face white -and her eyes widely open. "George has never given me up," she said -faintly. "I wrote and told him why I was forced to send him the first -letter, and----" - -"Yes, yes!" Mrs. Walker waved a beautifully-gloved hand. "I was in -London the other day--in fact I took your letter to George. He showed -it to me and told me everything." - -"And what did you say?" - -Mrs. Walker's deep, black brows drew together. "Of course the whole -thing is rubbish," she said harshly, "and only a love-sick girl like -Maud Ellis would act in that way. I suppose much must be forgiven her, -as she really loves my son. But after her behaviour, I shall never -consent to her marrying him. No! no! That would never do. Especially, -now that we know her uncle is such a rogue. I wanted George to tell -the police, but he refused." - -Lesbia cared very little for the fate of Tait. What she much desired -to know was her own. "You said that George has ceased to care for me," -she remarked with a pale smile. "I don't understand." - -Mrs. Walker gave her a pitying look. "Nor do I, now that I have seen -you, my dear. I don't like your father--I never did, and I would -rather have died than have seen George marrying his daughter. Your -looks and nature have made me change my mind. There is nothing of your -father about you. Had I seen you before----" Mrs. Walker broke off and -shook her stately head, "but it is too late. George will not renew the -engagement." - -"Oh, I can't believe that," cried the girl weeping and trembling. - -"Strange," muttered the elder woman, "you have been quite a heroine in -clearing George's character, for which I am greatly obliged to you. -Yet here you are crying like a schoolgirl." - -"I love him so much: I love him so deeply." - -"My poor child, it is the fate of women to have their hearts broken. I -do not know why George still refuses to renew the engagement in the -face of your letter, but he does. Here," Mrs. Walker took an envelope -out of her bag and handed it to the shaking girl, "you can read his -decision in his own handwriting. He asked me to give you this." - -With great delicacy she turned away her head, while Lesbia tore open -the envelope with shaking hands. There were only a few lines, but -these intimated plainly that George had accepted his dismissal, and -would not seek to renew the engagement. "I love you still, my -dearest," wrote Walker in conclusion, "but Fate wills that we must -part for ever." Then there were a few tender words, and the epistle -ended abruptly, as though the writer could not trust his emotions. -Lesbia read the lines, folded the letter and replaced it in the -envelope which she put into her pocket. Her eyes were dry now, and her -white face was flushed with colour. With a deep sigh she touched the -elder woman on the shoulder, "I understand," she said calmly. - -Mrs. Walker, whose sympathies--remarkably in so cold a woman--were now -entirely with Lesbia, grew snappy to conceal her emotion. "I don't," -she said acidly, "and when George returns to Medmenham I shall have an -explanation with him. He's a fool." - -"No," said Lesbia, her face growing even a deeper red. "Can't you see -that George is only acting in this way to save me?" - -"To save you from what?" asked Mrs. Walker shortly. - -"I don't know. I can't say," Lesbia spoke more to herself than to her -visitor. "But I feel sure that George wrote this letter as I wrote my -first one to him. I wrote to save him, and now he refuses to renew our -engagement to save me. I don't understand, still--oh I am sure that -everything will come right. I trust in God." - -"You do well to do so," said Mrs. Walker gravely, "for only He can -help you, my child. I am thoroughly puzzled, and know not what to -say." - -"Say nothing: do nothing," cried Lesbia eagerly. "Things will work out -to a happy end in their due time." - -"You are sure of that?" - -"I am certain." - -"Then," said Mrs. Walker grimly, "you must have a sixth sense which I -do not possess. However, I am glad that you have not given way to -hysteria. You are a brave girl, and I would rather have you for my -daughter-in-law than I would any one else, in spite of your father. -There," Mrs. Walker bent forward and actually kissed the girl's lips. -"That shows I mean what I say." - -"Oh!" Lesbia returned the kiss, blushing divinely, "George said that -you hated me, and----" - -"How could I hate a girl I had never seen?" snapped Mrs. Walker, -ashamed of her momentary humanity. "I hate your father, and--well -there, say no more about the matter. I hope with all my heart that -things will turn out well for you and George, as you appear to think -they will. Meanwhile while we are waiting for your father, tell me -about the amethyst cross." - -Lesbia started to her feet in astonishment. "The cross," she echoed. -"I have lost it. You know that I gave it to----" - -"Yes! Yes!" Mrs. Walker waved her hand impatiently. "I know about the -robbery and how no one can find the cross. It must be found, -nevertheless. But I wish to learn exactly how it came into your -possession. George told me something about the matter, but like a man -he told it very badly. For this reason I have come to see you, as well -as Mr. Hale, whom I detest," added Mrs. Walker severely. "Where did -you get the cross?" - -"From my mother. That is, the cross belonged to her. She left it to my -nurse Bridget Burke----" - -"Where is she?" - -"Dead. She died some time ago." - -"Unlucky," muttered Mrs. Walker with a dark look. "Well?" - -"My mother told Bridget to give it to me, and to tell me that I was -never to part with it save to the man I loved. Then you know"--Lesbia -blushed again--"I gave it to George." - -"Yes. I know of that and of the loss. I said so before. But how did -the cross come into your mother's possession?" - -Lesbia shook her head. "I really cannot tell you." - -Mrs. Walker frowned again, and turned her steely eyes towards the -door. Her quick ears had caught a soft foot-fall, and her quick eyes -had seen the half-open door move. "Come in, Mr. Hale," she said -loudly, "we are saying nothing which you cannot hear." - -Hale, who apparently had been listening, entered, looking perfectly -cool and composed. "The cross did not belong to Lesbia's mother," he -said quietly, but the look in his eyes as they rested on Mrs. Walker -was not pleasant. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV -THE FAMILY LAWYER - - -Lesbia uttered an exclamation when she heard the astonishing remark of -her father, and started to her feet. But Mrs. Walker, grimly silent, -kept her seat and glared, like Medusa, on the newcomer. If she could -have turned him into stone she would willingly have done so, as could -be seen from the expression of her hard eyes. Hale, perfectly cool, in -spite of the insulting speech which she made, took a chair and looked -at her with deliberate insolence. Also deliberately he reverted to her -insult. - -"I was just passing along to the dining-room," he explained slowly, -"when I heard voices and your last question. I entered at once and was -not eavesdropping, as you are pleased to say." - -"There is no need to excuse yourself," said Mrs. Walker tartly, -"for----" - -Hale crossed his legs and leaned back. "In my own house I think not." - -"For I don't believe a word you say," she finished harshly. - -"Naturally you would not," rejoined Mr. Hale smoothly; "you were -always a hard and suspicious woman." - -Mrs. Walker moved her hands restlessly, and her eyes gleamed fiercer -than ever. "You know better than that," she muttered. "Take your mind -back thirty years." - -"Willingly," said Hale, with great promptness. "Do you wish us to -speak of the past in Lesbia's presence?" - -This time he scored, for Mrs. Walker winced. "There is no need for the -child to hear old stories," she remarked, with suppressed passion. -"Let us discuss what I have come to see you about." - -"The cross?" - -"Oh," she flashed scornfully, "I thought you were not eavesdropping?" - -"I admitted that I heard your last question," said Hale, with a shrug, -"but you never would listen." - -"I am listening now. Say what you have to say." - -"I have said all that I intend to say, Mrs. Walker. The amethyst cross -did not belong to Lesbia's mother." - -The girl uttered another exclamation; she was lost in astonishment. -"But, father," she remonstrated, "Bridget told me on her -death-bed----" - -"What she told you was what I instructed her to say," interrupted Hale -imperiously. "But your mother--my wife--never possessed such an -ornament." - -Lesbia looked at him doubtfully. Of late, she had suspected that her -father was not above telling a falsehood to serve his own private -ends, and in the face of what she knew, it appeared as though he was -telling one now--why, she could not conjecture. While she was trying -to puzzle out the reason, Mrs. Walker rose and swept across to the -window of the drawing-room which looked out into the road. "I don't -see him yet," she muttered to herself, and consulted a bracelet-watch -attached to her left wrist. - -"Are you expecting anyone?" asked Hale politely. "Mr. Jabez, my family -lawyer," she replied curtly, and returned to her seat. - -Hale raised his eyebrows and looked more gentlemanly than ever; also a -trifle dangerous. "You asked him to my house?" - -"Yes, because I want to hear all about the cross. Oh, I know well that -you do not wish to see Mr. Jabez, Walter, but----" - -"You call me Walter," said Hale, and suddenly flushed. - -"A slip of the tongue," retorted Mrs. Walker, also growing red. "The -time is long past when I could call you so. You are Mr. Hale to me." - -"Then why not call me so?" demanded the man coolly. - -"I will do so in future," said Mrs. Walker, and bit her lip in silent -rage at having given him an opportunity of scoring. "But I know that -Mr. Jabez is too well acquainted with the seamy side of your life for -you to care about meeting him." - -Hale shrugged his shoulders. "He was my family lawyer as he is yours," -he answered in icy tones, "and one confesses much to one's lawyer, -which one would hesitate to say to others. I can depend upon the -secrecy of Jabez as to my misfortunes." - -"Oh!" Mrs. Walker laughed scornfully, "you call them by that name." - -"It suits them best. As to Jabez, I have no hesitation in meeting him. -But I prefer to choose my own visitors." - -"You certainly would not choose Mr. Jabez," said the elder woman -insultingly. "However, I have taken advantage of your easy-going -nature"--she was very sarcastic--"to invite Mr. Jabez to meet me here, -so that we may discuss the whereabouts of the cross." - -"How can we discuss what we cannot and do not know?" asked Hale, with -a contemptuous look. "You are still the same woman, Judith, headstrong -and----" - -"Don't call me that name!" she said sharply. - -"A slip of the tongue merely, such as you made just now," sneered -Hale; "but all this is very unpleasant for Lesbia. Don't you think -that while we quarrel she had better leave the room?" - -Mrs. Walker drew Lesbia down on to the sofa beside her, and retained -the girl's hand within her own. "No," she said sternly, "I am not -going to quarrel with you, Mr. Hale. Besides, I wish Lesbia to be -here, so that she may hear somewhat of the past." - -"Why should she?" asked Hale hastily. - -"I want her to marry George." - -"You--want--her--to--marry--George," repeated Hale astonished, "my -daughter!" - -Mrs. Walker looked at him straight. "You may well be surprised," she -said quietly, "especially as you know through my son that I was set -against this marriage, and with good reason let me remind you, Mr. -Hale. But now that I have seen Lesbia"--she drew the girl closer--"I -see no reason why the sins of the father should be visited upon the -child. Lesbia shall be my dear daughter, and I welcome her with joy." - -"I have something to say to that. She shall never be your -daughter-in-law, since it is better to be explicit as to -relationship." - -"We'll see about that." - -"Quite so. You are a clever woman, Judith, but I am also a clever -man." - -"Oh!" Mrs. Walker winced again at his using her Christian name. "We -had better not begin about your qualities. Lesbia would certainly have -to leave the room then." - -"Don't shame me in the presence of my child, madam," said Hale -thickly, and the veins on his forehead began to swell with anger. - -"I beg your pardon," said Mrs. Walker with a careless laugh, "I forgot -how you have deceived her into thinking you an angel." - -Hale suddenly rose, and walked to the window. He was in a furious rage -and was trying to keep himself cool, since he knew that any loss of -temper would give Mrs. Walker an advantage which he did not intend her -to gain. She sat quietly smoothing Lesbia's hand, with glittering eyes -quite ready to continue hostilities as soon as her enemy recovered his -breath. Lesbia herself remained passive, wondering what all the -trouble was about. Neither the one nor the other of the disputants -hinted sufficient to enlighten her as to the reasons why they were at -enmity. Hale certainly might have said something more to the point, as -he was rapidly losing control of his temper, but as he turned from the -window, there came a ring at the front door of the cottage. "Here is -Jabez," said Hale, coming back to his seat. "I am glad he has arrived, -if only to stop your tongue." - -"Oh, Jabez knows all that I can say," remarked Mrs. Walker grimly, and -became silent. - -With wide-open eyes, Lesbia sat waiting quietly to see what would -happen next. This duel of three--as it appeared to be, was as -fantastic as that in which Mr. Midshipman Easy fought. Moreover, the -girl was so bewildered by the hints dropped of a disagreement between -Mrs. Walker and her father, of which she knew nothing, that she was -trying hard to collect her scattered senses in order to take in future -events more clearly. - -Mr. Jabez announced his presence in the passage by a dry, hard cough -before he was introduced to the company by Tim Burke. He was a meagre -man of medium height with a bald head, a hatchet face, a pair of eyes -the colour of which could not be seen because of blue spectacles, and -a loose figure invested in well-fitting dark clothes. He looked -somewhat like a certain type of American, but when he opened his -mouth, he spoke very precise English. For the rest, he seemed -unemotional and very much addicted to dry business details. No one -could have called Mr. Jabez an interesting person, but he appeared to -know his business and the value of his time, upon which he placed a -high price. - -"Good-day! Good-day! Good-day!" he said severally to the three people -in the room with a little nod to each. "Mr. Hale, I apologise for -calling uninvited at your cottage, but Mrs. Walker, who wished for the -meeting here, must make my excuses. This is your daughter: a very -handsome young lady. I shall take this chair, with my back to the -light, as my eyes are somewhat weak. For that reason I wear blue -spectacles. Now," Mr. Jabez had gained possession of a comfortable -chair by this time, "let us come to business, as I have to return to -London within the hour, Mrs. Walker!" - -Thus addressed Mrs. Walker, as grim as Jabez himself, and as impatient -of wasting time, spoke to the point. "I asked you here, Mr. Jabez, to -meet Mr. Hale with whom," she added venomously, "we are both -exceedingly well acquainted." - -"Quite so--quite so," interrupted the lawyer with his dry cough, "but -it would be as well to avoid personal remarks. They do no good and -take up valuable time. Go on, Mrs. Walker." - -"I want to hear what Mr. Hale has to say about the amethyst cross," -said the widow with a dark look at her enemy. - -"I have nothing to say about it," retorted Hale, nursing his chin with -his hand and leaning back with crossed legs, apparently indifferent. - -"Pardon me, but you have much to say," remarked Jabez precisely. "So -far I merely know on the authority of Mrs. Walker--that the cross was -given to this young lady," he nodded very curtly towards Lesbia, "and -that in her turn she passed it to Mr. George Walker." - -"That is true," admitted Lesbia, seeing that she was called upon to -speak. "I was told by Bridget----" - -"Who is Bridget?" interrupted Jabez keenly. - -"My late nurse. She is dead." - -Jabez shook his bald head. "T'cht! T'cht! T'cht! That is a pity. Go -on." - -"Bridget told me that I was to give the cross only to the man I -loved. I therefore gave it to George. He was assaulted for it on the -towing-path and as it could not be found upon him, his room at -Medmenham was robbed." - -Jabez nodded. "Mrs. Walker told me all this," he said quietly, "and -the cross has never been found." - -"No," said Mrs. Walker. - -"No," said Mr. Hale. - -"No!" said Lesbia. - -"All are agreed," smiled the lawyer drily, "a most unanimous opinion. -I understand," he addressed Lesbia again, "that your mother originally -owned this cross and gave it to your nurse. Mrs. Walker, on the -authority of her son, told me as much." - -"I understood that the cross had belonged to my mother," replied -Lesbia, nervously glancing at her father. "Bridget told me so, when -she gave it to me on her death-bed." - -"Then she told you wrongly," said Mr. Hale, "and at my request." - -"Why?" demanded Jabez, turning towards his unwilling host. - -"Because the cross belonged to another woman, and I did not want that -known in case someone should claim it." - -"Ha!" said Mrs. Walker darkly. "And why did you wish to keep it?" - -"I--I--liked the ornament," confessed Hale hesitating, and quite -forgetting the sentimental reason he had given to his daughter as to -the desire to keep the cross because it had been the property of his -late wife. - -Mrs. Walker laughed scornfully. "I believe you know the reason why the -cross is so valuable," she snapped. - -"Yes, he does," chimed in Lesbia, who was determined to learn the -reason of all this mystery. "He says that if produced it will bring -him two thousand a year." - -"Lesbia!" Hale jumped to his feet and looked furious. "How dare you?" - -"How dare I?" she cried, rising in her turn. "Because you will not -trust me, father, and I am in the dark. The cross is mine, and I have -a right to know all that concerns it. Does the production of the cross -mean gain to my father of two thousand a year?" she asked the lawyer. - -"It means that if a certain person produces the cross to me," -explained Mr. Jabez, "fifty thousand pounds will----" - -"Let me explain," interrupted Mrs. Walker sharply. "Lesbia, the cross -is needed to prove the identity of my sister Kate. My father left her -the sum of fifty thousand pounds. She eloped with a man of whom he -disapproved, and has not appeared to claim the money. We don't know if -she is living or dead, and----" - -"Ah!" broke in Hale, "this is what George told me." - -"Yes," flashed out Mrs. Walker, turning towards him, "and for that -reason you know the value of the cross." - -"Oh," Hale shrugged his shoulders, "I knew that long ago." - -"Then why did you not produce it?" - -"Because I thought it was lost. If the cross belonged to your sister -Kate, Mrs. Walker, I knew her." - -"She was not your wife," cried Mrs. Walker savagely, "You were not the -man she ran away with." - -"I never said that I was," rejoined Hale coolly. "No. Hear what I have -to say. When I was living at Wimbledon with my wife--Lesbia's -mother--we one day found a woman unconscious in the snow. My wife, who -was a Good Samaritan, revived her and took her in. She died, but -before drawing her last breath, she told me that she was Katherine -Morse----" - -"That was my sister's maiden name. But she married the man she ran -away with." - -"She never told me so," said Hale coolly. "She died in my wife's arms -and is buried in Wimbledon cemetery. The cross--as I heard from my -wife on her death-bed--she gave to my wife saying that if produced to -Mr. Simon Jabez it would be worth fifty thousand pounds. My wife gave -the cross to Bridget and did not tell me so. When she died I hunted -for the cross and could not find it. But that old hag of an Irishwoman -possessed it and held her peace. On her death-bed she gave it to -Lesbia and told her not to tell me about it. I only became aware of -its whereabouts when I saw it in your son's hand after he had proposed -to Lesbia. Then it was lost again and I don't know who has it." - -"What a strange story!" said Lesbia, "why did you not tell me before, -father?" - -Hale turned on her viciously. "You were secret with me about the -cross, so what occasion was there to tell you? Had you been open I -would have had that fifty thousand pounds long ago." - -"No," said Jabez, who had been listening attentively, "you were not -married to Miss Katherine Morse, and so had no claim to the money." - -"I claim it," cried Mrs. Walker triumphantly, "all I wanted to know -was whether my sister Kate was dead. Now you have sworn to that, and -now that we know she is buried in Wimbledon cemetery, I get the -money." - -"No," said Jabez again and very drily. - -Mrs. Walker rose and turned on him angrily. "You know my father's -will," she cried angrily. "One hundred thousand pounds was left -equally between myself and my sister. I had my share and my husband -spent it. Kate never came to claim her half, so by the will it reverts -to the survivor of Samuel Morse's daughters. I am the survivor so----" - -"You go too fast, my dear lady," said the lawyer, "and do not know the -will so thoroughly as I do. Fifty thousand pounds, which I hold, was -left to Katherine and her heirs. There may be a child or children." - -"Kate Morse had no child when she died in my house," said Hale -sharply. "I can prove it." He went to the door and called out, "Tim." - -In a few minutes, and amidst a dead silence, the crooked little man -appeared rubbing his red head. "What's your will, sor?" he asked -softly. - -"You remember the woman who was taken in at Wimbledon years ago?" -questioned Hale impatiently. "The woman with the amethyst cross." - -"Ay, sor, I mind that. I wor a bare-futted gossoon thin. Me -mother--rist her sowl!--laid out the shroud av her." - -"Had this woman a child with her?" asked Jabez promptly. - -"No, sor," said Tim unhesitatingly, "she had not. The only child in -the house wor Miss Lesbia here." - -"That will do," said Hale impatiently, waving his hand, and drawing a -long breath, "you can go," and Tim took his departure. "Are you -satisfied?" he asked turning to the lawyer. - -"No," said that gentleman quietly, "I must have a better proof that -there was no child. From certain rumours, which I remember hearing -years ago, I am inclined to believe that there is a child." - -"I believe there was a child," said Mrs. Walker, who had been sitting -grim and silent. "Kate wrote to me two years after she eloped with -that man, that she had a baby and that it was very ill. She did not -expect it to live." - -"Did she mention the sex of the child?" - -"No. She did not, nor did I ever hear from her again. I daresay that -man cast her off, or deserted her, and she crawled to Wimbledon to -die. But the child must be dead also, so I inherit the money." - -"No! no! no. There is not sufficient proof of the child's death," said -Jabez, "although it appears we can prove the death of your sister. -Then again, I must have the amethyst cross placed in my hands before I -can part with the money. It is well invested," added Jabez with a -chuckle, "and brings in a trifle over two thousand a year. You are -correct in your estimate, Mr. Hale, but I doubt if you can claim the -money." - -"I could if I had the cross," muttered Hale savagely. - -"Not even then. If the child, whether male or female, appears with the -cross and I can prove that it is the child of Mrs. Walker's sister -then I'll hand over the money. If we can prove the death of the child, -Mrs. Walker will get the money." - -"And I'll have it," cried Mrs. Walker rising indignantly. "I am -certain that the child is dead. Kate wrote that it was dangerously -ill." - -"But not dead," chuckled Jabez, glancing at his watch. "Well, there is -nothing more to be said, so I shall take my leave. Good-day! good-day! -good-day!" he nodded again to each in turn and vanished as -unexpectedly as he had entered. Mrs. Walker looked remarkably angry. - -"The money is mine and I'll have it," she said determinedly. - -"You must first find the amethyst cross," sneered Hale. - - - - -CHAPTER XV -A STARTLING LETTER - - -After Mrs. Walker's portentous visit to Rose Cottage with her lawyer, -things went on quietly for some days. Mr. Hale at first positively -refused to speak on the subject of the cross and the fortune attached -thereto, as he maintained that it was useless to talk about -impossibilities. Then he changed his mind and spoke with extraordinary -freedom. - -"Nothing can be done until we find the amethyst cross," he said -gloomily to his daughter, "when that is produced, the money will be -forthcoming." - -"But you forget, father, that the cross has to be produced by Mrs. -Walker's nephew or niece," said Lesbia doubtfully. - -"She hasn't got one," snapped Hale. "If there was a child, it is dead. -I know that no child was brought to my house at Wimbledon by Kate -Morse." - -"Mrs. Walker said that was her sister's maiden name. Do you know the -name of the man she married?" - -"Yes." Hale cast a jealous side-glance at his daughter. "It's an old -story and a long one." - -"Which has to do with Mrs. Walker's enmity against you?" persisted -Lesbia. - -"Yes," said Hale again. "She thought that I had something to do with -her sister's elopement. Such rubbish, as though I could have helped -it." - -"Why did Miss Morse run away, then?" - -"Because of her father. He was a wealthy, old, psalm-singing idiot, -who made the two girls wretched. Kate fell in love with a certain -friend of mine--I am not going to mention his name--and old Morse told -him that he was not to come near the house. Then Kate took the bit -between her teeth and ran away with the man. She had a miserable life, -I believe, but I saw nothing of her until she stumbled foot-sore and -weary into my house at Wimbledon. The rest you know." - -"And the money?" asked Lesbia anxiously. - -"You heard all that is to be said on that subject when Mrs. Walker was -here," growled Hale, who was more communicative than usual. "But I'll -repeat the story, because I wish to make a suggestion." - -"What is the suggestion?" asked the girl, who mistrusted the uneasy -looks of her father. - -"First the story and then the suggestion," he remarked grimly. "Well, -it can scarcely be called a story. Samuel Morse, the psalm-singing old -ass I told you of, had a hundred thousand pounds, two daughters, and -no son. He made a will leaving the money equally divided between them, -and after death the money if not used up was to go to their heirs. -Judith--Mrs. Walker that is--married a scampish man-about-town, who -soon got through all she had and then broke his neck in a -steeplechase, leaving Judith with next to nothing upon which to bring -up George. Kate, having eloped with the man whose name I don't wish to -mention, did not claim her share of the cash." - -"If Mr. Morse was so angry I wonder he did not alter his will." - -"He would have done so. Of that I am absolutely certain," said Hale -emphatically, "but he had no time to do so. Shortly after he made his -will Kate eloped, and the old man died in a fit of rage, before he -could give instructions to Jabez who was his lawyer. Jabez gave fifty -thousand pounds to Judith, who by and by married Walker and lost it -all through his spendthrift habits. The remaining fifty thousand he -invested, and what with the principal and interest it must be a tidy -sum by now. At all events it brings in over two thousand a year. Since -Kate is dead the money passes to her child if she left any, which I do -not believe. Failing a child, it reverts by the will to Mrs. Walker." - -"But why need she produce the amethyst cross?" asked Lesbia. - -"She need not, as her identity is fully established in Jabez's eyes. -The cross--as I learned from him years ago--was an ornament which old -Morse had made for Kate, a kind of religious symbol." - -"Who bears the cross will win the crown," said Lesbia, remembering the -ornament; "or rather, as the motto goes, lose the crown by refusing -the cross." - -Hale nodded with a smile of contempt. "Yes! That was old Morse's idea. -He gave the cross to Kate, and then she ran away with it and the man -who became her husband. Jabez, knowing that the ornament is peculiar, -swears that he will need the cross to prove the identity of Kate or of -her child, as no one else could possess so odd a trinket. As if it -could not be imitated exactly," ended Hale with contempt. - -"The cross might be imitated," said Lesbia, doubtfully. "But as the -poor woman is dead, it will not be so easy to produce a child as -hers." - -Hale, with his head on one side, looked at her oddly. "I don't know so -much about that," he said slowly. - -"What do you mean?" questioned Lesbia, seeing that her father had -something on his mind. - -"Well," said Hale, pinching his chin and still looking at her as -though to hypnotise her mind; "there was no child, as I said. But you -were only a baby twenty years ago, born, in fact, only a week before -Kate Morse came to my house. Could we not say that you are the child?" - -"What?" Lesbia looked indignantly at her father. - -"Don't be foolish," said Hale testily. "It is not a crime seeing that -the money is there for the asking, Bridget Burke told you that the -cross was given to you by your mother. Let it be so, and I can swear -and, for your sake, I can get Tim to swear, that you are the long-lost -child. The train has already been laid by Bridget's story--which by -the way I told her to tell you--so old Jabez will be easy to -convince." - -Lesbia drew a long breath. "I should not think of deceiving and -robbing Mrs. Walker." - -"Oh, nonsense," said Hale earnestly. "When she dies the money goes to -her son, so if you marry him you can hand over twenty-five thousand to -him, or say one thousand a year. Thus you will be acting honestly -towards the Walkers, my dear, and----" - -"And dishonestly towards myself," cried Lesbia indignantly. "And what -of the remaining one thousand a year, father?" - -Hale drooped his eyes suavely. "I take that for arranging that you get -the money. Come, Lesbia, what do you say?" - -"I decline," she retorted, quivering with indignation. "How dare you, -who are my father, make such a proposal? Even if I were the true -child, I should not give you one penny." - -"Ha!" said Hale bitterly. "I thought so, and thus suggested a wild -scheme to try you. I might have known." - -"I believe that if I had fallen in with your scheme," cried Lesbia -boldly, "that you would have arranged to carry it through. You have -not the cross, however, and even if I consented----" - -"I remember the look of the cross, and so do you. It could have been -duplicated, my dear." - -Lesbia looked at her father in pained astonishment, and then burst -into bitter tears. "Oh, how I wish that I could respect you," she -wailed. - -Hale lifted his eyebrows. "Don't you?" - -"No! How can I, when I find that you are so wicked?" - -"I was only trying you," he said hastily. "Though it is true that had -you shown a disposition to give me my fair share I might have -endeavoured to get you this fortune. But, as it is, I see well that -all my pains would be thrown away. You would see me--your own -father--starve rather than let me have one penny." - -Lesbia dried her tears. "I would have nothing to do with such a wicked -scheme, and I only wish I could get away from you. You have never been -a father to me, and every day we drift farther and farther apart. When -I see Lord Charvington I shall ask him to help me to get a situation, -as a companion or a nursery governess, and then----" - -"Lesbia, you surely would not disgrace me by talking to Charvington in -that way," said Hale, his face growing dark. "Perhaps I have never -been affectionate, but then I feel more than I say. And you have -always had comfort and all that I could give." - -"I have had everything, save a father's love." - -"My nature is a reticent one," said her father sullenly. "So it is -useless to ask for impossibilities. If you really are unhappy with me, -marry George Walker and have done with it." - -"And what about Captain Sargent?" asked Lesbia sharply. - -Hale shrugged his shoulders. "I can't force you to marry a man against -your will, bad father as you say that I am. I have done my best for -you and you persistently regard me with suspicion." - -"What you proposed to do just now----" - -"Was merely an experiment. Think no more about it, and don't make -yourself ridiculous with Charvington. Play your cards well with him -and his wife, and you may make a good match." - -"I shall marry no one but George," said Lesbia obstinately. - -"He won't have anything to do with you," sneered Hale, and turned -away. - -Things being strained in this way Lesbia was sufficiently unhappy, -especially as George was absent and silent. She could not understand -why, after her explanation, he refused to come back to her. But in the -depths of her mind, she felt certain that he was acting against his -heart's desire, and much in the same way as she had acted when she -dismissed him. It was impossible to see him, as he was in London and -she did not know his address, and it was equally impossible to write -to him. Certainly, as Mrs. Walker was ready to receive her, she could -have gone to Medmenham to converse with that formidable lady, but she -hesitated to pour out her woes in that quarter. In spite of her sudden -friendliness, Mrs. Walker was unsympathetic, and the poor girl longed -for some kind breast whereon she could lie and weep and be comforted. - -Thus it can easily be guessed that Lesbia hailed with joy the arrival -of a brisk little woman, who introduced herself as Lady Charvington. -She came in a gorgeous motor car, with much noise and pomp, and was -dressed like Solomon, in all his glory, so wonderful was her frock. -Mr. Hale was within and received her with much deference, which was -natural considering that Lord Charvington was his patron. Lesbia was -sent for, and duly came down to the tiny drawing-room to be -introduced. - -"So this is Lesbia," said Lady Charvington, putting up a -tortoise-shell lorgnette, "quite a beauty I declare." - -She frowned a trifle when she said this, for her own daughters, in -their 'teens at present, were not beautiful. She herself had no great -pretension to good looks, although she made the best of herself in -every way. She was as small as Lesbia, but did not possess such a -complexion or such a figure, and there was an ill-tempered droop to -her mouth which made the girl mistrust her. For Lord Charvington's -sake, since he had been so kind to her, Lesbia was anxious to love his -wife, and perhaps had she been a plain girl Lady Charvington might -have given her an opportunity of exercising such affection. But the -looks of Lesbia took her aback, as she saw in this delicately -beautiful girl a formidable rival, not only to her plain daughters but -to herself. For Lady Charvington, in spite of her age and of the fact -that she was married, flirted a great deal. However, swiftly as these -things passed through her mind, she did not permit them to be revealed -by her face and welcomed Lesbia with well-affected enthusiasm. - -"You dear," she said, hopping up like a bird to peck the velvet cheek -of her proposed guest; "why have you hidden yourself for so long?" - -"I have been stopping here with my father since I came from school," -said Lesbia, trying to overcome a sudden dislike for this smiling -vision of small talk and chiffon. - -Lady Charvington shook a dainty finger at Mr. Hale, who was looking on -well-pleased at the scene. "You naughty, naughty man," she cried -effusively and girlishly, "how dare you keep Beauty shut up in a -castle no one ever heard of? But that Charvington spoke about this -sweet thing the other day and proposed to have her over at the Court -for a few days, I should never never have seen her." - -"I didn't wish to trouble you with my girl, Lady Charvington." - -"Oh," Lady Charvington uttered a little scream of delight, while -taking in every detail of Lesbia's looks and costume, "there will be -no trouble. We have always plenty of nice boys at the Court and they -will lose their heads over this Sleeping Beauty. For you are that, you -know," she added to Lesbia, "whatever the poor dear creature's name -may have been. But I have come at my husband's express desire to wake -you up, and to find a prince who will kiss you." - -"I have already got one," said Lesbia abruptly. "I am engaged!" - -Hale frowned, as he thought that she was too candid, but Lady -Charvington felt more satisfied than she had been. An engaged girl -would not be so dangerous. "Then we must ask your prince over to the -Court also," she declared effusively and kissed Lesbia again. "I have -brought over the car to take you back to dinner. Get your frocks and -frills, dear, and we shall start while the afternoon is yet warm." - -"Are you ready to go, Lesbia?" asked Hale, smiling artificially, for, -from the look on his daughter's face, he was not quite sure if she -approved of the invitation. - -But he need not have troubled. Lesbia did not like Lady Charvington -but, being anxious to see my lady's husband and tell him of her -troubles--since the sending of the cheque proved him to be a kindly -man,--made up her mind to overcome her mistrust and travel in the -motor car. "Everything is ready," she said quietly. "I have only one -box." - -"Oh, but, my dear, I wish you to stay for a week," protested the lady. - -"So I understood, and thank you very much," replied the girl with -enforced cordiality. "And the one box of clothes will be sufficient." - -"Dear me!" said Lady Charvington with a gasp, "what a careful girl you -must be. Why I take five boxes for a week's visit." - -"I am not rich enough to do that. Besides," added Lesbia smiling, "I -should only cumber up your motor car." - -"Oh, that is all right. It's a big thing and holds heaps. Have you -ever been in one, my dear girl?" - -"Lesbia has lived a very quiet life," interposed Hale quickly, "and -knows nothing of modern luxury." - -"Poor thing," said Lady Charvington, with a pitying glance. "I hope -your prince is wealthy," she added, turning to Lesbia. - -The girl smiled. "On the contrary, he is very poor." - -"Dear me! I seem to have found a paragon of virtue. But are you not -rather foolish, my dear girl? With such a face and such a figure and -with my influence you should make a better match." - -"So I tell her," cried Hale quickly; he was always on the watch to put -in a word, "and she is not really engaged, Lady Charvington. There is -some disagreement between Lesbia and Mr. Walker." - -"What a horrid name! So plebeian!" cried Lady Charvington. - -"George is not plebeian," said Lesbia, colouring hotly, "his father -was the Honourable Aylmer Walker." - -"Lord Casterton's third son," said the visitor, nodding. "Yes, I have -heard of him from my brothers. He was rather wild, was he not?" - -"Really I don't know." - -"There is no chance of his coming in for the title--your George, I -mean," prattled on Lady Charvington, "as Aylmer Walker's two elder -brothers have both heaps and heaps of children. I rather think that -Aylmer was the black ba-ba of the family. Well, there, I'm talking -scandal, a thing of which I highly disapprove. Go and get your things -on, dear, and tell your man to put your box on the motor. Wilkins will -help him. He's the chauffeur--not at all a bad driver, but oh, so -dreadfully reckless. Be prepared to go like the wind, my dear." - -Lady Charvington babbled on in this fashion with bird-like glances -here and there, taking in every detail of the room. She knew that Hale -was a poor relation of her husband's, and indeed had received him -twice or thrice at The Court near Maidenhead. But this was the first -time she had seen his daughter and, but for the express command of -Lord Charvington, she would not have asked her over. There was some -comfort in the fact that the girl's affections were engaged, but all -the same, such beauty, whether free or bound, would prove dangerous. -"I trust she won't interfere with my men," thought Lady Charvington as -she smiled sweetly on Lesbia leaving the tiny drawing-room. - -The girl summoned Tim to take her box to the motorcar which was -panting violently at the door, and went to her room to put on her hat. -She made a desperate attempt while doing so to overcome her dislike to -Lady Charvington, as she felt sure that for some reason the little -woman was hostile. Lesbia was too unsophisticated to put down the -hostility to the fact that Lady Charvington found her exasperatingly -beautiful, and was puzzled to think why any hostility should exist. -But it certainly was there, and Lesbia detected it immediately. -However, as she could see no reason for any such feeling existing -between her and a woman who--on the face of it--was doing her a -kindness, she fought desperately with her intuition. Still it seemed -to her that she was but leaving one abode of trouble to go to another, -wherein even more annoying things might happen. And the root of all -the worry was the missing cross. - -Tim took down the box and then returned to Lesbia's bedroom as she was -issuing therefrom. He drew her back mysteriously and produced a letter -cautiously from his inner pocket. "This is for you, Miss," he declared -in a whisper, "it came under cover to me by the mid-day post, with a -scratch av a pin saying Mr. Canning sint it, and 'twas to be given ye -at onct." - -"Mr. Canning!" Lesbia's face grew eager, and she hastily opened the -thin envelope to skim five or six lines written on foreign notepaper. -What she read surprised her, and she noted that the address given was -in a quiet street in Whitechapel. - - -"I have heard indirectly," wrote The Shadow, "that you are going some -time to The Court, Lord Charvington's place near Maidenhead. If you -do, keep a good watch, as two London thieves--the same who robbed -Tait's strong-room by Tait's direction--are about to try to steal Lady -Charvington's jewels when everyone is at dinner. The attempt will be -made on Thursday evening. I advise you to warn Lord Charvington, but -tell him not to bring in the police, as he will deeply regret doing -so. Yours always, C." - - -This mysterious letter, signed with Canning's initial, startled -Lesbia, For the moment she felt inclined to go down and tell her -father: but on second thoughts and with a discretion far beyond her -years, she decided to say nothing until she met her host. It was now -Tuesday, and the burglary was not arranged for until Thursday. There -was ample time. - -"It's nothing, Tim," she said mendaciously, putting the letter away. -"Good-bye for one whole week, you dear old thing," and she kissed him -fondly. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI -RECOGNITION - - -The Court, near Maidenhead, was Lord Charvington's chief country -residence on account of its proximity to London. It was a modern -mansion built in early Victorian days and, in accordance with the -taste of that period, had no great pretensions to architectural -beauty. In fact it might be called ugly, and was a huge, staring -barrack of a place, quite out of keeping with the beauty of the -surrounding grounds. These were of large extent, and so admirably laid -out that they made up for the deficiencies of the building, which, -after all, was comfortable enough within doors, if its external aspect -was uninviting. Modern luxury had made the many rooms very habitable, -and the barn--it looked like a barn--was furnished with the -magnificence of Aladdin's palace. - -Lesbia arrived with her hostess in time for afternoon tea and was -speedily introduced to Lord Charvington. There were at least ten -guests of fashionable London stopping for a few days and, while Lady -Charvington chatted with these, her husband made himself agreeable to -Miss Hale. She was very glad to find Charvington so agreeable and -sympathetic, for naturally her first plunge into society made her -somewhat shy. And her host was particularly attentive, quite in a -different way from Lady Charvington's careless hospitality. After a -few minutes' conversation Lesbia felt as though she had known him for -years, and was soon quite at her ease. In fact, Lady Charvington, at -the other end of the room, cast a displeased look in Lesbia's -direction, when she heard her laughing so gaily, and saw how her -pretty face was wreathed in smiles. Charvington was making a fool of -the girl, she thought, and indeed privately deemed it foolish that he -had lifted the girl into a circle so alien to her ordinary life, since -she had neither the money nor the experience to sustain her new -position. However, Charvington had made a point of his cousin's -daughter being asked, so Lady Charvington gave way, as she always did -to her husband in small things. - -Charvington was a tall and somewhat stout man, with a fresh-coloured -face and leonine masses of white hair worn somewhat long. He was -clean-shaven, with merry blue eyes filled with vigorous life, and -possessed a strong, calm voice, sympathetic and sweet. His manner was -brisk and lively, and more suited to youth than to age. Not that he -was so very old, for he certainly appeared as lively as the youngest -man in the room. Everyone in the West End knew Lord Charvington, as he -was rich and kind-hearted, two things which beget a very agreeable -reputation. Many a young man had to thank Charvington for help and -advice, and in an unostentatious way he did a great deal of good. When -Lesbia talked with him and became acquainted with his personality, she -no longer wondered that he had acceded so readily to her request for a -loan. The purse of such a genial man was always open to the needy, and -very often to the undeserving. - -"I am glad you have come over, Lesbia," he said admiringly, as they -sat in a quiet corner of the room far from the chattering guests. -"Hale did not tell me that you were so pretty. By the way, you must -not mind my calling you by your Christian name. I knew you when you -were but a baby, and it is my privilege, as your elderly cousin, to be -familiar." - -"I am very glad you _are_ familiar," said the girl, lifting her eyes -to the strong, kind face, "and I cannot forget that you sent me that -fifty pounds so kindly, without asking what I wished to do with it." - -"Pooh! pooh! That is nothing, child. Who should help you but I? -Whenever you are in want of money write to me, and you will receive a -cheque by return of post. I am your cousin, you know. And a very bad -cousin at that," added Charvington, with sudden energy. "I should have -had you here long ago. You must have led a dull life in Marlow." - -"No," answered Lesbia quietly, "there was always George." - -"Who is George?" - -"The man I love." - -"Oh!" Charvington's eyes twinkled more than ever; "you are engaged." - -"Yes and no." - -The man looked puzzled. "What do you mean? I don't like riddles." - -Lesbia sighed. "It is a riddle, and a very painful one. For that -reason I accepted your kind invitation and came over. I want to tell -you what I did with the fifty pounds, and also I wish to ask your -advice." - -"I shall be delighted to give it, but surely your father--" - -"My father"--Lesbia checked a scornful remark which was on the tip of -her tongue--"my father would take no interest in what I wish to tell -you." - -Charvington bent his brow and looked at her thoughtfully. "You shall -come to the library in the morning, and there we can have a chat," he -said. "Only one thing I ask you now: your father does not treat you -badly?" - -"No," faltered the girl, looking down; she could not betray her -father, although he had behaved so ill. "My father is--well enough," -she ended lamely. - -"Humph!" muttered Charvington, with his eyes still on her face. "Well, -well, we shall see! Meantime have some more tea," and he walked across -the room to have her cup filled. - -No more was said for the time being, but Charvington's kind manner -made Lesbia more determined than ever to confide in him. She believed -that she had at length found a friend who would aid her to withstand -the tyranny of her father, and who would assist to put things right -with her lover. They were crooked enough now in all conscience. -Moreover, in any case, she was forced to show him Canning's letter, so -that he might provide against the projected burglary. If she told this -much she would have to tell all, for only by making a clean breast of -it could she be extricated from the mire into which she had sunk, -through no fault of her own. All that evening she longed for the -morning, so that she might tell her new friend the many difficulties -which were making her miserable. - -Not that the evening was dull. On the contrary, as the mansion was -filled with lively, well-bred people, it was quite a revelation to -Lesbia in the way of enjoyment. Everyone seemed to be happy and -untroubled by care, which contrasted strongly with the incessant worry -which went on within the four walls of Rose Cottage. These society -people--outwardly at all events--seemed as careless gods, happy, -merry, and gloriously irresponsible. Later in life Lesbia learned what -sadness lurked under this frivolous, laughing exterior, but at this -time she was quite deceived, and thought to herself, "How happy are -the rich and well-born!" - -Lady Charvington's two daughters--not yet old enough to be -presented--were very nice girls, although they were decidedly -plain-looking. But they appeared to have none of their mother's -jealousy regarding Lesbia's beauty, and made much of her. She found -herself laughing and talking and entering into their girlish lives, -quite as if she had known them for many years. Lord Charvington seemed -particularly pleased that this should be so, and presided over the -trio like a benevolent wizard. For the most part Lesbia was with the -two girls during her visit, in spite of the attentions paid to her by -sundry youths smitten by her beauty. Seeing this, Lady Charvington -became much more gracious, and inwardly decided that Lesbia Hale knew -her place. All the same she was a trifle uneasy at the way in which -Charvington hovered round the pretty visitor. Not that she cared over -much for her husband, who was older than she was; nevertheless, she -did not like to see him paying marked attentions to anyone else. - -On the first evening, there was a small dance after a very splendid -dinner. Lesbia, in her simple white dress, attracted much notice, but -she preferred to talk to Agatha and Lena, Lord Charvington's -daughters, and to laugh at their father's mild witticisms. During a -lull in the dance there was some singing, and towards the end of the -evening an excellent supper. Lesbia retired at midnight, while yet -the festivities were in full swing. This was at Lord Charvington's -express wish, as he did not approve of youth losing any necessary -beauty-sleep. When she laid her head on the pillow and was falling -asleep, Lesbia confessed that she had enjoyed herself greatly. If -George had only been present the evening would have been perfect. - -Next morning, Agatha and Lena woke her early and took her round -the grounds. The girls exchanged confidences--chiefly about school -life,--ran races on the dewy sward, and entered filled with the joy of -life to eat a surprisingly good breakfast. Lady Charvington was rather -astounded at Lesbia's appetite. So pretty a girl, she decided, should -eat less and talk less. But Lesbia, although a fairy in looks, could -not live on fairy food, and enjoyed to the full the excellent meal -provided by the very capable chef of her host. "Horrid, greedy, pert -girl," thought Lady Charvington, who was all smiles and attention. "I -am sure I shan't like her!"--quite a needless thought, as she already -heartily disliked her visitor for other reasons than because she was -pretty. But these reasons Lesbia did not learn for some months. Then -they did not matter, as life had changed by that time for the better. - -After breakfast, Lord Charvington carried off his pretty little guest -to a noble room lined with books, and placing her in a most -comfortable arm-chair, took his own seat at his desk. "Now, my child, -what is it?" he asked. - -"It is rather difficult to begin," faltered Lesbia, feeling if she had -the fatal letter in her pocket. - -"Not with me, my dear. You know that you can trust me implicitly." - -"Yes," said Lesbia, raising her clear eyes to the kind face. "Well -then I shall begin from the time I gave George the amethyst cross." - -"What?" Charvington's ruddy face grew pale, and he pushed back his -chair with considerable violence; "the amethyst cross!" - -"Do you know anything about it?" asked Lesbia, astonished by his -change of colour and evident emotion. "It is lost you know--stolen." - -"Who stole it?" demanded the man mastering himself with an apparent -effort. - -"Listen," said Lesbia, and related everything from the time George -Walker had proposed to the moment of Lady Charvington's arrival at -Rose Cottage. But for the moment she said nothing of the letter from -Canning. That could keep until she heard what Charvington had to say -to the first part of her story. And it may be mentioned that Lesbia -spared her father as much as possible, while explaining her -difficulties. - -After his first violent movement, Lord Charvington listened in dead -silence, and his colour slowly returned. With his eyes averted, he -heard the whole extraordinary tale, without interruption, and only -when it was concluded did he speak. Then he gave but small comfort. "I -cannot understand what it all means," he said slowly. "I shall see -Hale, and doubtless he will be able to explain matters. But have no -fear, child, if you love George Walker, you shall marry him. I know -Mrs. Walker, and I knew her husband. A wild fellow was Aylmer Walker, -but not without his good points." - -"And you won't let my father have me watched again," said Lesbia -anxiously. - -"Certainly not," cried Charvington fiercely. "If I had known that, I -would have--but that's neither here nor there. Your father owes me too -much to disregard my wishes. I shall see that he leaves you your full -liberty and that he consents to your marriage with George. I hope he -is worthy of you, my dear--George I mean," he added wistfully. - -"Oh yes. He's the dearest, sweetest, best----" - -"There! There!" Charvington smiled a trifle drily. "I can see that -your heart is set upon being Mrs. Walker. Very good. I shall see that -George has an opportunity of earning money, so that you can marry -him." - -"And the cross?" - -"Never mind the cross just now," said Charvington hastily. "I shall -have to see your father about that. Later we can talk on the subject. -But this Tait," he drummed anxiously with his fingers on the table; -"I knew Tait many years ago. He always was a scoundrel, although I -did not think he would go so far as to join himself with professional -thieves----" - -"Oh," Lesbia drew the letter of Canning from her pocket, "I forgot. -Read this, Lord Charvington. It's a warning--only don't tell the -police." - -Her host mounted his pince-nez and read the missive in surprise. His -face grew a dark red, and he muttered a word which Lesbia luckily did -not overhear. Then he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket -without remark. - -"You won't tell the police," said Lesbia again and still anxiously. - -"No," said Charvington, rising, "from what Canning found out before, I -believe Tait is in this business also. I don't want for several -reasons to make a scandal connected with the man, although he deserves -to be gaoled for life. Still, I shall take precautions by having the -house watched. Also I must get my wife to put away her jewel-casket in -the safe. She is very careless about her jewels, and leaves the casket -in her bedroom, sometimes in a drawer or wardrobe, but more often open -on the dressing-table. The maid should put it away, of course, but -she's a half-blind old creature who was my wife's nurse, and neglects -things. But to-day is Wednesday and the burglary is arranged for -to-morrow evening when we dine. I shall see that my wife puts away her -jewels to-morrow evening. I shall go to her room and see that they are -safe before I go to dinner." - -"But why not to-day also?" asked Lesbia anxiously. - -"The burglary is not until to-morrow evening, child," said Charvington -kindly. "They are safe until then, as they have been safe for years in -spite of my wife's gross carelessness and trust in her neglectful old -nurse. No, my dear, you have given me a needed warning, so it is no -use bothering your head further. To-morrow, I shall make all safe. -When these two thieves find that the house is guarded, they will not -attempt the robbery." - -"Will you warn Lady Charvington?" - -"What! and have her fall into hysterics? No. I shall merely see that -the jewels are locked up nightly after to-morrow, and have the house -watched for a week or so. My wife need know nothing, my dear." - -"I shall keep my own counsel," said Lesbia, rising to leave the room, -"but I do wish you would have the jewels put away to-night, Lord -Charvington." - -"Well," he smiled kindly, "perhaps, as you are so anxious I shall. -But, as we know the time and date of the projected burglary, there is -no need." - -Lesbia went away, comforted to think that Charvington now knew all her -troubles, and would help her when it was necessary. Doubtless he would -procure George a good situation, and then she could marry her lover. -But the emotion of Charvington, when the amethyst cross was mentioned, -puzzled Lesbia greatly, as there appeared to be no reason for it. -However, she comforted herself with the reflection, that--as he had -promised--he would explain everything when the appointed time arrived, -and went to enjoy her holiday with the two girls. The enjoyment took -the form of a picnic and a run down the river on Lord Charvington's -fine steam launch. - -When the girls were out of the way, Charvington sought his wife and -pointed out to her the folly of leaving a case full of rich jewels on -her dressing-table. "They might be stolen," he remonstrated. - -Lady Charvington was not at all grateful. "You are always making a -fuss over the jewels," she said impatiently. "I have left the case in -my bedroom for years and I have never lost a single thing." - -"That doesn't say you might not lose the lot," snapped Charvington, -who found his wife trying even to his kindly nature. - -"There's time enough to talk when I do lose them." - -"Then it will be too late. I ask you to put them away every night in -the strong-room. Bertha can take the case there, when she has dressed -you for dinner." - -"Very well," said Lady Charvington, who was impatient to return to a -very interesting book she was reading. "I'll tell Bertha, though I'm -sure if the case is in my bedroom she can look after it well enough." - -"Pooh. She's half blind. Why don't you get a better maid?" - -"Bertha's been with me all my life, and I shall keep her until she is -past work. You have no heart, Charvington," she ended virtuously. - -"She's past work now," said her husband, as he stalked from the -boudoir. - -Nothing more was said, but had Charvington been in the house on that -Wednesday evening he would either have asked his wife if the jewels -had been put away, or have attended to the matter himself. But during -the day he suddenly decided to go up to London in order to see a -private detective whom he had employed before on various delicate -matters. It would be just as well, thought Charvington, to have this -man in the house on Thursday evening. Then, if the two thieves alluded -to by Canning did arrive, the man could lay hands on them. Not that -Charvington wished to make a public case of the matter, since, as he -had hinted to Lesbia, he was anxious to avoid scandal in connection -with Tait, whom he shrewdly suspected of having a hand in this new -piece of rascality. For this reason he went up to London to engage the -private detective, and remained in town for the night. Next day he -purposed coming back with his assistant and then the matter could be -settled quietly. Lady Charvington would not lose her jewels, and there -would be no trouble--publicly at all events--in connection with Mr. -Michael Tait. - -All that Wednesday Lesbia enjoyed herself on the river with her host's -daughters, in spite of the launch's breaking down temporarily on the -way back, in consequence of some accident to the engines. Consequently -it was not until seven o'clock at night that the three girls arrived -in Maidenhead, and it was thirty minutes past when they came to The -Court. Lady Charvington, who had been anxious about their non-arrival, -expressed herself as annoyed at their failure to be in to dinner, -which was at seven o'clock. She sent a message saying that Agatha and -Lena were to dine in their school-room with the governess. Lesbia -feeling herself a culprit--although on the face of it not one of the -three was to blame--decided to dine with the girls and to make her -apologies afterwards to Lady Charvington. And a very merry dinner they -had, for the governess was a charming, middle-aged lady, who made -everything very pleasant. And then the love of Agatha and Lena for -their newly-found cousin grew with every hour. On the whole, Lesbia -enjoyed that school-room meal more than the splendid dinner of the -previous night. She was the more pleased that she had remained absent, -as she was told by the governess that Lord Charvington was away in -London. - -After that merry meal, Lesbia went to change her dress in order to go -down to the drawing-room. Agatha and Lena followed to chatter and -help, as they did not like to be separated from their visitor. -Lesbia's room was on the first floor, near that of the girls, and on -the way the three had to pass the door of Lady Charvington's bedroom. -It was closed, but as they passed they heard a shriek of alarm, and -opening it at once saw one man escaping by the window, and another -struggling with Bertha, the ancient maid. Agatha and Lena ran away -screaming for help, but Lesbia dashed forward to help the old woman. -At that moment the man--who wore a mask--threw Bertha on the ground -and ran towards the window. Lesbia caught him before he could fling -his leg over the sill, and tore off the mask. Then she uttered a cry -of dismay and terror. - -"Father!" she shrieked, and dropped down in a dead faint. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII -DISGRACE - - -Next morning, Lesbia was sitting in her bedroom, thinking over the -terrible event of the previous night. She had remained in a faint for -a considerable time, and had recovered consciousness to find herself -lying on her bed. At once she had desired to see Lady Charvington, but -her hostess sent up a message asking that Lesbia should wait until the -arrival of Lord Charvington, who had been wired for. From the somewhat -pert behaviour of the maid who brought the message, the unfortunate -girl felt that she was in disgrace, and did not dare to resent it. -Having recognised her father in the man whose mask she had torn off, -she fancied that the whole household knew of the matter. But in this -she was wrong, as she learned, when Agatha, the elder of the girls, -came by stealth to her room about eleven o'clock at night. - -"I don't know what is the matter with mother," said Agatha speaking in -a whisper and keeping a watchful eye on the door, "she told Lena and I -that we were not to see you, or speak to you." - -"Why?" stammered Lesbia, feeling sick with shame. - -"I don't know. I suppose mother is angry at the loss of her jewels. -But my father always told her that she would lose them." - -"Have they caught the thieves?" - -"No. Lena and I screamed, and everyone came rushing, up. They found -Bertha lying half stunned on the floor, and you in a faint. The two -men had a motorcar at the gate and got away." - -Lesbia turned even whiter than she was. "Do they know who the men -are?" - -"Of course they don't. They wore masks, you know," said Agatha, "but -one mask was found on the floor. Bertha said that you pulled it off -the man who was struggling with her. Did you know his face?" - -"No," muttered Lesbia. The lie choked her, but she could not denounce -her own father, evil as he was. - -"I expect when I fainted he jumped from the window after his -companion, and managed to reach the motorcar. Has your father -returned, Agatha dear?" - -"No," answered the girl softly, "he is coming back in the morning. -Mother has brought in the police from Maidenhead, but I heard her tell -the chief man that you were too ill to be questioned until the -morning. Mother seems to be very angry with you, Lesbia. I wonder -why?" - -"I don't know, dear," said the girl, and indeed she did not. If the -names of the thieves were unknown, Lady Charvington could have nothing -against her. "But if your mother doesn't want you to speak to me, -Agatha, you must go back to bed. When the morning comes I shall see -your mother and ask what is the matter." - -"See father," said Agatha, pattering across the room with bare feet, -"he is fond of you: he told me so. Mother is always jealous of anyone -father likes and she will only be disagreeable. I waited till Lena was -asleep, then came here. But I'll go now," she returned to kiss Lesbia, -"good-night, dear, and don't worry. Everything will be right when -father comes back." - -Lesbia thought so also. She had implicit faith in Lord Charvington as -his daughter had, and knew that he would understand when he heard the -truth. But could she tell him the truth? Could she say that the man to -whom he allowed an annuity had crept into the house to steal the -jewels? And then Canning had said particularly that the two thieves -were the same that had robbed Tait's strong-room by Tait's direction. -In that case, her father was doubly a villain, as he was not only a -thief, but had tried to throw the blame of the first burglary on -George Walker in order to bring about a separation between them. Now -he had added a second crime to the first, and had robbed his -benefactor and cousin at the very time that his own daughter was a -guest in the house. Canning must have known of her father's guilt and -so, in his letter--for Lesbia's sake no doubt--had advised that the -police should not be brought in. But would Charvington keep the affair -quiet when his wife had lost her jewels? And in any case would he not -send from the house in anger the daughter of such a villain? It was -all terrible, shameful, disgraceful, and poor Lesbia sobbed herself to -sleep at the horror of it all. - -Next morning she could eat no breakfast, but after a cold bath to -freshen her up, dressed and sat by the window waiting for Lord -Charvington's arrival. At first she was inclined to see her hostess -and ask why she behaved so oddly. But the fancy was strong within her, -that Lady Charvington in some way must have learned the identity of at -least one of the thieves, and so was visiting the shame of the father -on the head of the innocent daughter. But then Lesbia could not -conjecture if this was true. As Lady Charvington had not entered her -bedroom until Hale escaped, she could not have recognised him, and as -Hale had escaped the truth would never become known unless Lesbia -spoke. This she did not intend to do, unless to Lord Charvington, whom -she could trust. She therefore waited patiently. At all events, as she -gathered from Agatha's report, whatever Lady Charvington suspected she -certainly had not informed the household, in spite of the demeanour of -the pert servant. Nevertheless, the very forbidding of the two girls -to see Lesbia pointed to doubts and hatred and knowledge of the worst -on Lady Charvington's part. - -As Lesbia sat there looking out on to the beautiful garden with -tear-filled eyes, she recalled many circumstances in her father's life -which brought home to her forcibly his wicked vocation. The sordid -persons who came by stealth to Rose Cottage must have been thieves and -fences who received stolen goods. Her father's mysterious actions and -frequent absences were accounted for by the fact, for when away he -probably had been robbing with his shameful associates. No wonder he -had laughed when George had proposed to leave Tait's office and join -him in business. And Tait also was a rogue and a scoundrel, belonging -to the gang of which Walter Hale was a member. Sargent might be a -thief also--but of this Lesbia could not be certain. Nevertheless, she -began to suspect that Canning _alias_ The Shadow had something to do -with the robberies. That would explain why a gentleman would descend -to being a spy. Canning was under Hale's thumb and would have to do -what he was told to do. Then she recollected how he had stated that -for telling her about Tait's scheme he would have to go into hiding. -There could be no doubt about it. Canning belonged to the gang and out -of gratitude had betrayed his sordid associates. - -Thinking thus Lesbia grew sick and faint. The thought of the -wickedness that surrounded her made her shiver. How could she expect -George to marry her when she was the daughter of a thief? And she -would be forced to tell him, since she could not marry him and keep -silent upon such an important point. To marry George without telling -him the truth would be to place herself in the power of her father. -And now knowing what her father was, Lesbia felt certain that to put -money into his pocket he would not stop short of blackmail. No, she -would have to tell what she had discovered to George and to Lord -Charvington, and thus in one moment she would lose the only two -friends she possessed. Tim remained and Lesbia knew that, come what -might, she could always depend upon the fidelity of the Irishman; she -felt sure that Tim was as innocent as herself of this dreadful -knowledge which had come to ruin her life. In all wide England there -was no more miserable girl than the unfortunate Lesbia, as she sat -weeping by the window and bidding farewell to happiness and -respectability. - -Towards noon a message was brought that Lord Charvington wished to see -her in the library, and Lesbia after washing away all traces of the -bitter tears she had shed descended the stairs. She was pale and worn, -but held herself proudly, for whatever might be known, she was -determined to face the worst. Several people were in the hall, and she -saw a policeman near the door. But no one looked at her in any way -suggesting that the terrible truth was known, so Lesbia entered the -noble library with a hope that her father had escaped recognition by -all save herself. - -Only two people were in the library, Lord Charvington and his wife. -The former was walking to and fro with a worried expression on his -kind face, but the latter seated in an arm-chair near the window -looked red with anger and apparently had been engaged in a furious -argument: "If you don't tell, I shall," she was saying when Lesbia -entered. - -"You shall say nothing," said Lord Charvington sternly. "Hold your -tongue as you have done. Hitherto you have displayed sense in keeping -silence and in silencing Bertha. Continue to behave and----" - -"Here's the girl," snapped Lady Charvington, interrupting as Lesbia -came silently into the room and closed the door. - -"Why do you speak of me in that way?" asked Lesbia, up in arms at -once. Knowing herself innocent, she did not intend to stand insult. - -"You will soon learn," retorted the other, curling her lip. "I wonder -you are not ashamed of yourself. And after all my kindness too, and -my----" - -"Silence, Helen," said Lord Charvington imperiously. "How dare you -talk to Miss Hale so insolently?" - -"Miss Hale," sneered his wife. "Why not call her Lesbia, as you have -done?" - -"I have every right to; she is my cousin." Lord Charvington made an -angry gesture to impose silence on his indignant wife, and turned to -the girl who stood pale and motionless. "My poor Lesbia, don't look so -woe-begone. I will stand by you whatever my wife may say." - -"What does she say?" asked Lesbia quietly. - -"You had better hear her when she is more composed," said Lord -Charvington with a glance at his wife, thereby arousing her to fresh -fury. "She will probably say something in the heat of the moment for -which she will be sorry. Helen, had you not better go and lie down?" - -Lady Charvington arose with a red spot burning on either cheek, and -her eyes glittered like those of an angry cat. "How dare you speak to -me like this in my own house, Charvington?" she cried in a shrill -voice. "I don't leave this room until you turn that shameless girl out -of doors." - -"What do you mean?" demanded Lesbia indignantly; but with a sinking -heart. - -"Mean," screamed the infuriated woman; "I mean that Bertha heard you -calling the masked man who attacked you, 'Father!' And you cannot deny -it. See, Charvington," she pointed tauntingly to the agonised girl, -"she dare not deny it. Oh you--you daughter of a thief; you accomplice -of a thief." - -"Helen, Helen; be silent." - -"I shall not be silent. When Bertha told me the truth I ordered her to -hold her tongue until you returned, Charvington. I have held my peace -myself and neither the police nor the servants nor our friends know -that this horrid girl is the daughter of a thief. Why you take such an -interest in the minx I don't know, but surely after what we have -discovered you will pack her off to gaol." - -"To gaol; to gaol," Lesbia drew herself up, pale, but fearless. As -Lady Charvington hurled her accusations, the girl's spirit rose to -defend herself. After all, guilty as her father might be, she at least -was innocent. "How dare you speak to me in this way?" she said again. - -"And how dare you face me, you cat?" snarled Lady Charvington, looking -much more like a cat herself. "You arrange with your abominable father -to rob me of my jewels, you enter my house to----" - -Before Lord Charvington could put out his hand to stop her--for he was -afraid to think what these two angry women might do--Lesbia glided -past him, and stood face to face with her enemy. "You lie," she -breathed in such a low, fierce voice that the other woman fell back -into her chair with a gasp of fear. "I knew nothing of this. I had no -wish to rob you of your jewels." - -"Yes, you had, and I know why!" - -"Explain then. I dare you to explain." - -Lady Charvington cast a swift glance at her husband. "I know what I -know." - -"You know that I am innocent," said Lesbia, clenching her hands; "I -dare you to say that I am not." - -"You are your father's accomplice." - -"That is untrue," broke in Lord Charvington smoothly, "Lesbia warned -me that the jewels would be stolen." - -"Of course," scoffed his wife triumphantly, "she knew!" - -"If I had been in league with my father would I have given the -warning?" - -"Yes," said Lady Charvington, rising to confront Lesbia, who had asked -the question. "My husband showed me the letter purporting to come from -some man in London. It said that the burglary was arranged for -Thursday, and by telling my husband that, he thought he might safely -leave the house and go to London to engage a detective, while your -father robbed the house on Wednesday. It's a well-arranged business." - -"I don't know why the burglary took place on Wednesday," said Lesbia -steadily; "the letter I gave Lord Charvington is perfectly true. I -can't explain further than I have done." - -"Because you can't; because you can't," taunted Lady Charvington, "but -you shall leave my house in disgrace." - -Lord Charvington caught his wife's wrist. "Lesbia shall return to her -home this day," he said imperiously, "because I won't have her -stopping here to be insulted by you. Bertha will say nothing of what -she overheard, as I have forbidden her to speak on the pain of instant -dismissal. You also, Helen, shall hold your tongue." - -"I will do nothing of the sort," breathed Lady Charvington -vindictively. - -"You shall. I will not permit you to ruin an innocent girl. Knowing -that Hale has stolen your jewels, I can get them back, and have -already communicated with him." - -"The police----" - -"The police can do nothing. Hale and his accomplice got away cleverly -in their motorcar and cannot be traced. If the jewels are returned -intact--which they will be, as I can force Hale to return them--the -police will not move further in the matter, as I can stop them. Then -this painful episode will be a thing of the past." - -"I want that girl disgraced as an accomplice," said the elder woman, -grinding her teeth and pointing towards Lesbia. - -Charvington put his arm round Lesbia's waist or she would have fallen. -"I shall not allow it, Helen," he said quietly. "Lesbia is innocent. -Woman, have you no pity for the poor thing; surely she is suffering -enough already, in finding out that her father is a thief." - -"Her father," jeered Lady Charvington insultingly. "Oh, yes, her -father," she moved swiftly towards the library door. "If you get back -my jewels I shall hold my tongue, for reasons which you may guess, -Charvington. But don't let that creature come near me, or I shall--I -shall--oh." Lady Charvington could scarcely contain herself. "How I -hate you; hate you. I wish you were dead with all my heart and soul, -you--you----" - -What she was about to say in her furious anger Lesbia could not guess. -But whatever it was she never uttered the epithet. Charvington -suddenly moved towards his wife and towering above her glared into her -eyes. "If you say another word I'll kill you." - -Lady Charvington quailed. "You are quite capable of doing so," she -breathed undauntedly; "I'm not afraid of you. But clear my house of -that," and with a jeering laugh, she pointed at the trembling girl and -left the room. - -"What--what does she mean?" gasped Lesbia, sinking into a chair, her -courage all gone. "What have I done? How can I help my father--my -father--oh Lord Charvington!" and she broke down weeping bitterly. - -"Hush! hush!" He stood over her, patting her heaving shoulder. "She -doesn't know what she is saying. I'll see that she holds her tongue -and Bertha also. Nothing will ever be known of your father's -complicity in this crime." - -"But what does it mean?" asked Lesbia, lifting a tear-stained face. - -"God knows," muttered Charvington moodily, "I have been mistaken in -your father, my dear." - -"But--but you don't blame me?" - -"No," he declared emphatically, "a thousand times no. My dear, I love -you as if you were my own child, and I shall never, never believe any -harm of you in any way. I can keep my wife's tongue silent, but I can -do no more. You must return to Marlow, until such time as I can -arrange further about your marriage with George Walker." - -"Oh," Lesbia wailed and stretched her arms, "I cannot marry him now. -Who would marry the daughter of a thief? Father was one of the thieves -who robbed Mr. Tait's strong-room." - -"At Tait's request remember," interpolated Charvington quickly. - -Lesbia brushed away the speech. "Oh, what does it matter even if they -are all thieves. But George must have known the dreadful truth and so -he will not renew our engagement. I did not understand him before; I -do now." - -"There! there!" Charvington patted her shoulder again, "don't worry. -All will come right, I am sure, and in a way which you do not expect." - -Lesbia looked up with sudden hope. "You know of something." - -"Yes," said the man gloomily. "I know of something. Don't ask me any -further questions just now, but go back to Marlow. The motorcar is -already at the door with your box on it. As all our other guests have -left the house, your departure will cause no surprise." - -"But the police. Will they not want to question me?" - -"I'll attend to that. I told the inspector that if necessary he could -question you at Rose Cottage. But as I hope to make your father give -back the jewels, the prosecution will be dropped. Remember, the police -do not know that your father is guilty. Being thus ignorant, they can -do nothing. Go away in peace, my dear, and leave everything to me." - -Lesbia rose shuddering. "How can I go back to my father, knowing what -I now know?" she murmured, shivering. - -"You go back to the cottage," explained Charvington distinctly. "It is -my cottage, as I pay the rent; the furniture also is mine. I have -supported your father for years and this is the way he repays me. -However, the cottage is yours. I promise you that your father will not -come near you." - -"I trust not! I trust not. I could not face him. And you?" - -"I shall come over and see you shortly. But go away, contented to know -that all is well. There will be no scandal, and not a word will be -said about this burglary. Your father is safe and you are safe. Later, -I shall see about getting your father to go to Australia, and then you -can marry Walker." - -"If he will have me," sighed the unfortunate girl. - -"Lesbia," Charvington took her face between his two hands and looked -into her eyes; "I swear that you shall marry him. There! Let the dead -past alone and dream of future happiness," and he kissed her solemnly. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII -LADY CHARVINGTON'S ACCUSATIONS - - -While Lesbia was thus having so miserable a time, George Walker was -living very quietly, sometimes in London, but more often in Medmenham. -He carefully avoided all mention of Lesbia's name, and when his mother -questioned him regarding his reason for refusing to renew the -engagement he declined to explain. Mrs. Walker was much annoyed by -what she termed his mule-headedness as, after her visit to Rose -Cottage, she was quite willing that Lesbia should become her -daughter-in-law. - -"I cannot understand you, George," said Mrs. Walker to her son during -one of their frequent wrangles. "When I objected to this girl, nothing -would do but that you must marry her. Now that I have taken a fancy to -her, you refuse to have anything to do with her. I never thought a son -of mine would blow hot and cold in this silly fashion." - -"I am not blowing hot or cold," returned George gloomily; he was very, -very gloomy in those days and had lost all his light-heartedness. -"Lesbia is the only girl in the world that I care to marry. But how -can I make her my wife, when I haven't a penny to keep her with?" - -"That is mere evasion. Things are very little changed from the time -you would have married her in the teeth of poverty." - -"There is this much change, that I have lost my situation with Tait -and am now living on my mother, which is the meanest thing a man can -do. How then can I renew my engagement with Lesbia?" - -"Because I wish you to," said Mrs. Walker promptly, and bent her black -brows. - -"I understood you hated her." - -"Indeed, I never did," she rejoined sharply. "How could I hate anyone -whom I had never seen? Don't be a fool, George. I certainly hated her -father and I hate him still, for a very good reason, which it does not -concern you to know. But after I saw the girl I repented that I had -not been to see her before, since you loved her. She is an innocent -darling, and I should like no one better for my daughter. It would be -unfair to visit the sins of the father on so sweet a child." - -"Yet if the child wasn't sweet," said George drily, "you would not -mind doing so. You are somewhat inconsistent." - -"I am not so inconsistent as you are," said his mother, skilfully -avoiding a reply by carrying the war into hic camp. "What I wish to -know is--why do you decline to renew your engagement?" - -"I have no money and no situation." - -"That isn't the true reason. - -"It is the sole reason which I choose to give." - -"There is no necessity to be rude, George," said Mrs. Walker with -great dignity. "Cannot you get another situation?" - -"Not easily. Tait will give me no references, nor do I care to ask him -for any. Situations are hard to get without references." - -Mrs. Walker clasped her strong, white hands together and frowned. "It -is quite absurd that my son and the son of your father should be a -mere clerk in the City," she burst out. "Can't you do something -better?" - -"No," replied George gloomily. "I am not clever, and I have not been -brought up to any trade." - -"Trade! Trade! My son in trade." - -George was sad enough at heart, yet could not forbear smiling at the -horror expressed on her countenance. "There is nothing disgraceful in -trade," he remarked quietly. "My grandfather Morse was a merchant." - -"And your grandfather Casterton was an earl," snapped Mrs. Walker. -"There's your uncle, the present owner of the title. Why not go to -him, and see if he cannot assist you?" - -"And when I ask him, what excuse can I make?" - -"He is your uncle: he has every right to assist you." - -"I fear he might not see things in the same light, mother. Besides I -have no qualifications." George paused, then added gloomily: "An -out-of-door colonial life would suit me. Give me enough to get to -Canada or Australia, mother, and there I can carve my way." - -"What about me?" asked Mrs. Walker reproachfully. - -"I would make a home for you beyond the seas and you can come out -later." - -Mrs. Walker shook her head. "I am too old to travel so far," she said -grimly, "moreover, I intend to wait until I get the fortune of my -sister. She is dead: I am sure from what Walter Hale says that there -is no child, so in the end Jabez must give me the fifty thousand -pounds. That money would put all things right: your marriage -included." - -"Not with Lesbia," said the young man colouring. "There is no chance -of our coming together. Besides, to get the money you must find that -cross." - -"Nothing of the sort," said his mother quickly, "Jabez only requires -its production by a possible child, as a means of identification, a -very silly idea I call it. But he knows that I am Judith Morse, and so -by my father's will inherit, now that my sister is dead." - -George shook his head doggedly. "I believe that you will never get the -fortune until that cross is found." - -"Then find it." - -"I can't. I have tried my best to learn who assaulted me and robbed -this cottage, but I am still in the dark." - -This ended the conversation for the time being. But as the days went -by Mrs. Walker still continued to express her disgust at George's -obstinacy regarding Lesbia. She knew that he still loved the girl, and -could not think why he should refuse to renew the engagement in the -face of Lesbia's letter. Of course the excuse of having no situation -was rubbish, so Mrs. Walker decided, as Lesbia was willing to marry -him without one penny. If he truly loved her, as she did him, poverty -would be no bar. When was poverty ever a bar to the union of two young -hearts? Even admitting that George wanted to provide a home before -renewing the engagement, he surely could have seen Lesbia and -explained his reasons for behaving as he was doing. But he never went -near Marlow, and refused to mention her name. As Mrs. Walker, being as -obstinate as her son, insisted on discussing his unfortunate love -affair, and wrangling over the same, George took to remaining for days -in London on the plea that he was looking for work. Time thus passed -very miserably for the grim widow. - -One day George came down with the news that he had received a note -from Lord Charvington, asking him to call at The Court, Maidenhead. -Why he should wish to see him George could not guess, as he had never -met him. But in the letter Charvington said that he had been a friend -of Aylmer Walker, and so desired the interview. Mrs. Walker was also -puzzled. She was well acquainted with Lord Charvington, but after her -scampish husband's death she had kept away from the former society she -frequented, on account of her poverty. - -All the same, she advised George to keep the appointment, which was -made for the next day, if only to hear what Charvington had to talk -about. - -It was strange, a coincidence in fact, that Lady Charvington's motor -should stop on the afternoon of that very day at the gate of the -Medmenham cottage. Never before to George's knowledge had his mother -mentioned Lord Charvington's name, yet on the very day when it was on -her lips, because of the letter, the wife of the nobleman arrived to -pay a visit. Why she should do so was not quite clear, and Mrs. Walker -entered the drawing-room with a frown. She and her sister Kate had -been school-girls together, and she had never approved of the lady. -Her greeting was very cold. - -"How are you, Helen?" she said, extending the tips of her fingers. "It -is a surprise to see you in my humble abode." - -"I would have called before, only I knew that you did not wish to see -me, Judith," said Lady Charvington, sinking gracefully into the -nearest arm-chair; "but I have come on business." - -Mrs. Walker sat also, and folded her hands on the lap of her black -dress with her usual grim smile. "Of course, I knew that you would not -waste your valuable time in coming for nothing. But what business you -can have with me I fail to see. We were never good friends, and you -positively hated Kate because she was prettier than you." - -"She never was," said Lady Charvington hotly, and glanced in the -silver-framed hand-mirror, which stood on the table at her elbow. -"Kate had not my complexion, nor my hair." - -"Nor your nasty temper," snapped Mrs. Walker, who felt extremely nasty -herself; "but I don't know why we should talk of good looks at our -age." - -"I am not old, Judith: you are older than I am." - -"Quite so, and I wear ever so much better. You look twice your age." - -Lady Charvington made a face. "You were always a disagreeable girl," -she pouted, "I daresay I am growing no younger, but you need not tell -me so. As to my looks, if you were as worried as I am, you would not -look your best either. So I--who is that?" she inquired as George, -ignorant that his mother had a visitor, tapped at the French window of -the drawing-room. - -"My son George," said Mrs. Walker, rising to admit him. - -"Oh!" cried Lady Charvington vivaciously. "Lesbia's George." - -"My son, Lady Charvington," said Mrs. Walker, introducing the pair. -"George, this is an old friend of mine." - -Lady Charvington looked at the splendidly handsome young man -and secretly envied her hostess. Neither of her children was so -good-looking, and moreover, what she always regretted, she had -provided no heir to the title. - -"So you are Lesbia's George," she said again, not offering her hand, -but putting up her lorgnette. "Well, the girl has taste." - -George coloured under her impertinent gaze and at the sudden mention -of Lesbia. He no more expected Lady Charvington to mention the girl -than he had expected she would arrive on the very day when her name -had first been mentioned in the cottage--that is, her husband's name. -"What do you know of Lesbia, Lady Charvington?" he asked, taking a -chair. - -She gave an artificial laugh. "Nothing very creditable." - -The young man started and grew an angry red. Mrs. Walker frowned, and -making a sign that her son should be silent, spoke for him. "What do -you mean by running down the girl, Helen? Let me tell you that -Lesbia's name must be mentioned in this house only with respect." - -"Oh, I know that she loves your son, and that he loves -her--unfortunately." - -"Why so?" asked George very directly, and still red with anger. He was -beginning to dislike this pretty, perfumed, dainty woman, who looked -as frivolous as his mother was stately. - -"Because she is, I shrewdly suspect, a--a----" Lady Charvington -hesitated, for the young man looked so angry, and Mrs. Walker so grim, -that she feared to bring out the hateful word. "Well, the fact is," -she rattled on, "I have lost an amethyst cross, and I believe this -Lesbia Hale has taken it." - -"An amethyst cross," repeated George, astonished, too much so in fact -to repel the accusation against Lesbia with the promptitude he wished. -"A cross consisting of four amethyst stones with a green cube of -malachite in the centre bearing a crown, and inscribed 'Refuse and -Lose'?" - -"Yes." Lady Charvington was astonished. "Do you know it?" - -"Of course I do. It belongs to me." - -"To you. Impossible. It is, as I believe the property of Lord -Charvington, and was stolen with other jewels from The Court a few -days ago." - -"But how did it get to The Court--how did it come into your -possession?" - -"It came into my possession a few weeks ago. I entered the library -during my husband's absence and found this cross on his table. -Wondering why he had such a jewel, and thinking that he had bought it -for me, I took it to my room. Charvington went away before I could -speak to him about it and never made any inquiries--strange to say--as -to its being taken away, I placed it in my jewel case, and forgot all -about it. Then my case was stolen by two London thieves a few days -ago, and the cross also." - -"You declared that Lesbia stole it," said Mrs. Walker grimly, "and now -you say that two thieves----" - -"Lesbia was in league with them." - -George sprang to his feet. "That's wholly false, Lady Charvington. -That is----" he became aware of his rudeness and stammered, "you--you -must be mistaken." - -"I am never mistaken," said the visitor in icy tones. "Your son has -not very good manners, Judith." - -"They are my manners," said Mrs. Walker fiercely, "and don't you find -fault with them. He has only said what I intended to say, only more -politely." - -Before Lady Charvington could snap out a reply, George, now very pale, -intervened. "Perhaps, madam, you will explain upon what grounds you -base this charge against Miss Hale." - -"Oh, certainly," rejoined Lady Charvington sharply, "the whole world -might know what I have to say, and the whole world would," she added -spitefully, "only my husband, who seems to have taken a fancy to this -girl, has hushed up the matter." - -"He has more sense than you have," muttered Mrs. Walker, "badly as he -treated----" she checked herself with a side glance at George, "but -that is neither here nor there. Go on, Helen, and explain." - -Lady Charvington, in order to make George writhe--for she saw that he -loved Lesbia deeply, and resented the fact--was only too ready to give -details of the robbery at The Court with all the venom of which her -very bitter tongue was capable. She related everything that had -happened from the hour of Lesbia's arrival, to the moment of her -departure. "And in disgrace," ended the lady exultingly, "certainly -private disgrace, since for some silly reason Charvington made me hold -my tongue, but disgrace nevertheless. Now what do you think?" - -"Think"--George, standing with a white face and clenched hands, took -the words out of his mother's mouth--"I think that you are a very -wicked woman, Lady Charvington. Lesbia is as innocent as a dove." - -"I know nothing of the morals of doves," retorted Lady Charvington -coolly, "but you seem to forget that I stated how this girl's father -was one of the thieves. Who the other one was I can't say, but Lesbia -certainly recognised her father. Bertha, my maid, heard her -exclamation, while she was lying half stunned on the floor." - -"I am not astonished," said Mrs. Walker bitterly. "Walter Hale is -capable of all things, although I did not know that he would descend -quite so low. I never liked him as you did, Helen." - -"Leave the past alone," said Lady Charvington with an angry gesture; -"but you can see that this Lesbia creature was her father's -accomplice." - -"Speak more respectfully of Lesbia if you please," said George in a -cold white fury. "She is perfectly innocent, and knew no more of her -father's wickedness than----" - -"Than you did, I suppose." - -"You are wrong. I knew some weeks ago, that Walter Hale had to do with -a gang of thieves." - -"George," cried his mother aghast; "you never told me." - -"There was no need to," he said quickly, "I know that Hale, acting by -Tait's orders, stole the jewels from----" - -"Was this why you broke your engagement with Lesbia, or rather why you -would not renew it?" - -"That was the reason," said George awkwardly. - -Mrs. Walker stood up sternly. "Then you believe that Lesbia is an -accomplice." - -"No, I don't. My reason is different." - -"You refuse to marry the daughter of a thief perhaps," said Lady -Charvington mockingly. - -"I do not. My reason--never mind. I can explain my reason to Lesbia -when I see her," said George, standing very straight and looking very -determined. - -"You intend to see her, then?" asked his mother. - -"This very evening." - -"I shall come also," said Mrs. Walker quickly. - -"If that is so," drawled Lady Charvington, "perhaps you will ask her -what she has done with the cross." - -"She has not got it," cried George. "How can she have it when you -declared that her father stole it and----" - -"Oh," Lady Charvington laughed cruelly, "I daresay her father gave her -the amethyst cross, as her share of the plunder." - -"Helen, hold your bitter tongue," cried Mrs. Walker wrathfully. - -"If you speak of Lesbia in that way, or dare to smirch her fair fame," -said George very deliberately, "I shall make it my business to make -things unpleasant all round." - -"As how?" asked Lady Charvington, putting up her lorgnette. - -"To-morrow I am to see Lord Charvington by appointment----" - -"I was not aware that you knew my husband." - -"I do not, but he wrote to me, and I am to see him." - -"Ah!" drawled Lady Charvington coolly, "perhaps knowing that you love -this wretched girl my husband intends to arrange that you shall marry -her and take her out of the country." - -The young man restrained his anger by a violent effort. "Perhaps you -are correct, madam," he said in a thick voice and breathing hard. "But -I shall also ask Lord Charvington how the cross came to be in his -possession." - -"No!" Lady Charvington shrieked and seemed much perturbed. "You must -not do that." - -"Madam," said George in a stately manner and following up his -advantage, "I am the owner of that cross, which was given to me by -Miss Hale. I was assaulted on the towing-path so that I might be -robbed of it. As the thief did not find it on my person he burgled -this cottage and took it from my room. I have every right to ask Lord -Charvington how he became possessed of it." - -The visitor rose with rather a pale face but quite composed, and shook -perfume from her costly draperies as she gathered up her belongings to -depart. "Things are bad for Lesbia Hale as it is," she said -composedly. "I advise you to ask no questions of my husband, or he may -withdraw his protection from her. If he does, she is disgraced, -publicly." - -"I don't believe it," said Mrs. Walker, crossing to the window and -opening it. "You can leave my cottage by this way, Helen, and the -sooner the better." - -Lady Charvington swept towards the French window with a careless -laugh, obviously forced. "I am only too willing to go," she declared. -"I only came over to ask you to question Lesbia Hale as to what she -has done with my amethyst cross." - -"Mine, pardon me," said George firmly, as he held the window open, -"and you may be sure that I shall marry Lesbia and protect Lesbia even -against you who seem to hate her, Heaven only knows why." - -"Your mother knows," sneered Lady Charvington. "Well, do what you -like, only remember that I have warned you!" and with these ominous -words she took her welcome departure. - -"What is next to be done?" asked Mrs. Walker, when the motor hummed -away. - -"We must see Lesbia," said George firmly. "What has been said brings -us together at last." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX -MR. HALE EXPLAINS - - -When Lesbia returned to Rose Cottage, after her unlucky visit to The -Court, she found that her father had never been near the place. Tim, -who was alone in the house when she arrived, explained that Hale had -gone to London within an hour of Lesbia's departure with Lady -Charvington in the motor car. There was nothing in this to surprise -the little Irishman, as Hale's comings and goings were always more or -less abrupt. But he was amazed and startled when he heard what Lesbia -had to tell; the revelation being occasioned by Tim's distressed -remark on the girl's pallor. - -"Ah now, Miss, an' what hey ye bin doin' wid yer purty silf at all, at -all? Sure the face av ye's as white as a carpse." - -Lesbia burst into tears. "Oh Tim, I sometimes wish that I was one, for -I feel so very miserable. George will have nothing to do with me; Lady -Charvington hates me, and my father, my father----" - -"Phwat av him?" asked Tim anxiously. - -"Can't you guess?" asked Lesbia, drying her eyes, and wondering how -much or how little the man knew of Hale's rascalities. - -Tim's face remained passive, but he could not keep a certain amount of -anxiety out of his eyes. "Sure, the masther isn't a good man," he said -in a hesitating manner, "he trates ye like a brute baste, Miss." - -"It's worse than that," sobbed Lesbia, breaking down again. - -The servant changed colour and raised his hands in mute despair. When -he did find his voice, it was to ask a leading question. "An' how much -do ye know, me dear?" - -"I know that my father is a thief." - -"Augh! the shame av it," muttered Tim, but did not contradict. - -Lesbia noticed that he was less surprised than he should have been. -"You knew that." - -"Mary be good to us all!" said Tim sadly. "But I know a mighty lot I'd -rather not know, me dear. But are ye sure, Miss?" - -Lesbia sat up, dried her eyes, and detailed all that had happened. Tim -listened in dismayed silence with his sad eyes on her pale face, and -she heard him grind his teeth when it came to an account of Lady -Charvington's accusation. When she ended he still kept silence. - -"What do you think of it all, Tim?" asked his mistress, anxious to -hear what he had to say. - -"It's black lies that woman spakes," cried Tim vehemently. "Ye nivir -knew av the masther's wrongdoin'." - -"Did you, Tim?" - -"I knew a trifle, an' guessed a mighty lot. Nivir ask me, miss, phwat -I know till his lardship--an' sure he's a good man--spakes the wurrd. -But I know wan thing, me dear heart, that the blackest clouds have the -blissid sun behint thim." - -"There is no sun behind these clouds," said Lesbia, sighing. - -"An' there yer wrong, Miss," said Tim briskly. "Sure, whin them clouds -do let the blissid sun sind out th' light av him, ye'll foind pace an' -happiness an' joy galore. Lave things to his lardship. The crass began -the throuble, an' the crass will end that same." - -"Tim! Tim, what do you know about the cross?" - -"Ah, nivir ask me phwat I know," croaked Tim again. "There's whales -within whales, me dear, an' me mouth's bin saled fur many a year. But -whin his lardship spakes I spake, and thin ye'll be as happy as thim -who dwell in Tirnanoge." - -"What's that, Tim?" - -"The land av youth where ye and Masther Garge shud be, an' will be, -whin the blissid saints in glory let ye come into ye'r own." And after -delivering himself of this agreeable prophecy, Tim shuffled away to -prepare dinner. - -Lesbia was much astonished at the hints thus given, and also much -perplexed. Tim seemed to know of the significance of the amethyst -cross, of the rascality of her father, and also he appeared to know -about Lord Charvington as a possible _deus ex machina_, who would make -the crooked quite straight. Later in the evening she questioned the -little man persistently, but Tim, as wily as an otter, evaded a direct -reply, only insisting that everything would come right in a most -unexpected way. With this Lesbia would scarcely have been content, but -that her attention was taken away from the future to deal with the -present. - -Urged by Tim, and now feeling more hopeful as she recalled -Charvington's promise to stand by her, Lesbia made a moderately good -dinner. While Tim was washing up in the kitchen, she sat near the -window of the tiny parlour reading the first book that came to hand. -But the pages did not interest her and, moreover, it soon grew too -dark to read without lights. Lesbia did not call for these, as she -liked the pensive twilight, and so dreamed of George and future -happiness in the gloaming. There was just light enough to see across -the room, so she started with surprise and indignation when she saw -her father suddenly appear in the doorway. He looked much the same as -usual, but then the light was not strong enough to permit her to see -the shame which must certainly have appeared on his face. - -"Why have you come here?" asked Lesbia, rising indignantly. - -"I have assuredly a right to enter my own house," retorted her father. - -"It is not your house," she replied boldly. "Lord Charvington told me -that it belonged to him, and declared that you would come here no -more." - -"Ah!" Hale lounged into the room, and dropped with a sigh of fatigue -into a chair. "Charvington proposed more than he could perform; he -always did." - -"How did you come in?" - -"By the back door, which was open. I rowed up from Cookham." - -"You can't stop here," said Lesbia firmly. - -"You can't prevent me," said her father, with a sneer. - -"I can leave the house, and I will." - -"Where will you go?" - -"To Mrs. Walker; she will protect me. I will throw myself on her -mercy. But I refuse to remain under the same roof as you." - -Hale winced at the scorn in her tones. "You seem to forget that you -are speaking to your father," he said in an icy manner. - -"God help me!" cried the girl, with a gesture of despair; "I wish I -could forget. You have brought shame upon me." - -"Oh, rubbish," said Hale crossly. "I received a letter from -Charvington in London just before I came down to Cookham which stated -that if I restored the jewels everything would be hushed up." - -"And you will do so?" - -"I have to," said Hale grudgingly. "It's an infernal nuisance after -all my trouble, but Charvington says that he will set the police on my -track if I don't act square. I shall return the jewels to-morrow, and -then everything will be put right. There is no disgrace to you." - -"Isn't there?" said Lesbia, with a bitter laugh. "You appear to have -forgotten that Bertha, the maid, heard my recognition of you, and told -her mistress. Lady Charvington accused me of being your accomplice, -and but that our cousin made her hold her tongue and silenced the -maid, I should have been arrested as knowing your rogueries and -sharing in them." - -Hale muttered an oath between his teeth. "Upon my word that's too -bad," he said half apologetically. "The woman had no right to speak of -you in that way, as you are as innocent as a babe. However, if -Charvington has hushed that up also, there is no harm done." - -"Father," cried Lesbia, moving forward to confront him, "can you think -that I will consent to live with you, now that I know of your -wickedness?" - -"What do you know, other than that I took Lady Charvington's jewels?" -asked her father, defiantly. - -"I know that you stole Mr. Tait's jewels by his direction." - -"Who dares to say that?" demanded Hale, starting fiercely to his feet. - -"Mr. Canning----" - -"Mister," sneered Hale, savagely, "since when has he earned such -respect." - -"Mr. Canning is a gentleman and Captain Sargent's brother," said -Lesbia in calm, easy tones. Now that she had come to close grips with -her father she felt singularly cool. - -Hale muttered a second oath. "I knew that The Shadow had betrayed us," -he said ominously; "well, he shall pay for his treachery. His silly -gratitude to you for nursing him has made him dishonourable to us." - -"Dishonourable!" cried Lesbia, scornfully. - -"Why not?" scoffed her father, "There is honour amongst thieves." - -"And _you_ are a thief." - -"I am," said Hale, shamelessly. "I was driven to such courses because -I wanted money. You may as well know the worst, for I----" - -"Oh!" Lesbia threw up her hand, feeling sick at heart. "Don't tell me -any more. Leave this house and never see me again." - -Hale settled himself firmly in his chair. "I will do nothing of the -sort," he declared; "this is my house, whatever Charvington may say. -Here I am and here I rest. There's a French soldier's saying for you," -he sneered. - -"Oh," Lesbia sighed as she looked up, "will nothing make this man -ashamed?" - -"Nothing!" Hale put his legs up on another chair, "absolutely -nothing." - -At this moment there came a sharp ring of the front door bell. Hale -started to his feet with an ejaculation, and Lesbia could guess that -his shameless face had turned white in the shadowy twilight. -Apparently he expected the police, as she gathered from his broken -mutterings. "But it is impossible," he breathed, clenching his hands; -"Charvington said that he would say nothing if the jewels were sent -back. I shall send them to-morrow, and if there is a--ah!" - -The two listening in the half-dark room heard Tim shuffle along the -narrow passage and open the door. A moment later and Mrs. Walker's -voice, cold and haughty, struck on their ears. Hale wiped his face and -heaved a sigh of relief. "Don't betray me to that woman," he -whispered. - -"I shall not," said Lesbia, quietly, "after all, bad as you are, I -cannot forget that you are my father." - -Even as the last word dropped from her mouth, the door opened and Mrs. -Walker was ushered into the room. Behind her came Tim bearing high a -lamp to light her way. The radiance revealed Lesbia white and -shrinking and the defiant face of Walter Hale. - -"The masther, howly saints!" muttered Tim, setting down the lamp; then -he addressed Lesbia, quietly: "Will I bring more lights, Miss, av ye -plase?" - -"No thank you, Tim, this lamp will be enough. Shut the door." - -Without a single glance at his master, Tim departed and left the trio -together. Mrs. Walker, standing just within the room, had said -nothing. Only when the door was closed did she speak. "I did not -expect to find you here, Mr. Hale," she said with contempt and -scarcely concealed surprise. - -"And where should I be, save in my own house?" he asked, lightly. - -"In gaol," she snapped, "and there you would be, had I my way." - -Hale raised his eyebrows. "I do not understand," he remarked, coolly. - -"Yes, you do, and you will understand completely when I tell you that -Lady Charvington came to see me to-day." Hale uttered an exclamation -of rage and vexation. "Yes, you may well swear, for she told both -George and myself about the robbery at The Court. What do you say to -that, you detected scoundrel?" she asked, sternly. - -"Hush!" he muttered, gruffly, "my daughter is present." - -"I am glad she is, I want her to know what you are." - -"I do know," faltered Lesbia, weakly, "and oh!"--she covered her face -to sink in a passion of tears on the sofa--"it is shameful: shameful." - -Mrs. Walker looked at Hale, still defiant and hard-faced. "I would -have spared you this for the girl's sake," she breathed, "but she -caught you red-handed, so there is nothing to conceal." With a stern -look at him, she glided to the sofa and took the shrinking, fragile -form of the unhappy girl in her strong arms: "Lesbia, my love," she -said tenderly, and the change in her voice was extraordinary, "I have -come to stand by you. That man is not fit to have charge of you. Come -with me, to-night, to Medmenham." - -"Oh no--no--George----" - -"George knows all that you know, that I know. He was present when Lady -Charvington came to tell us of what had taken place." - -"And George despises me," wept Lesbia, burying her face in Mrs. -Walker's bosom. - -"Don't be ridiculous, child, don't be foolish. How can he despise you -when you are innocent and he loves you?" - -"Loves me--loves me," Lesbia looked up startled; "but he refused to -renew our engagement although I abased myself to the dust to regain -him." - -"I think George will be able to explain why he acted in that way," she -whispered. "In a few minutes you will meet George under the chestnut -tree where he proposed to you. It's an idea of his that he should -explain himself there and there renew the engagement. We both arranged -to come here to-night and were to drive over. But at the last moment -George took to his boat and is now rowing down the river to meet you -under the trysting-tree. I drove over." - -"Oh!" Lesbia sat up, smiles breaking through her tears. This was a -gleam of sunshine indeed. "George is coming back." - -"He will hold you in his arms very shortly," said Mrs. Walker, her -hard face becoming strangely tender. "You poor dear child, how cruelly -you have been treated. But the worst is over: you shall marry my -George and be happy." - -"Indeed," said Hale in an acrid, thin voice. "I am not to be consulted -then?" - -Mrs. Walker placed Lesbia tenderly back on the sofa and arranged the -cushion. Then she turned, hard and harsh once more to the delinquent. -"You are not to be consulted about Lesbia," she said calmly, "as you -are unfit to have anything to do with her. But I have come to consult -you about the amethyst cross." - -"I know nothing about it," said Hale, starting and biting his nether -lip. - -"That's a lie," said Mrs. Walker fiercely. "Lady Charvington found the -cross in her husband's library, where he had left it, and thinking -that he had bought it for her, placed it in her jewel-case. As you -stole the case you must have the cross. Give it to me at once. I want -it." - -"I know nothing about it," said Hale doggedly and raising his heavy -eyes, "you are wrong--the cross was not with the jewels. I shall send -them back to Lord Charvington to-morrow, as only by my restoring them -will he agree not to prosecute. Charvington will show you the case, -and you will see that there is no cross amongst them." - -"I quite believe that," said Mrs. Walker, scornfully, "because you -intend to keep it back. What use it is to you I can't say, as in no -way can you obtain my sister's money." - -Hale scowled and, stretching out his legs, slipped his hands into his -pockets. He was perfectly dressed as usual in a cool tweed suit, and -looked in the half light a very handsome and presentable man. No one -would have taken him for a sordid thief. "I have not the cross," was -all he could say, "it was not with the jewels. I don't know where it -is." - -"Lord Charvington----" - -"If he had it in his library he must have robbed your cottage to get -it, and also must have assaulted your son. I wonder you can stand -that," said Hale with a sneer, "especially since you have a score -against the man as it is. But then you are so forgiving." - -"You will not find me so," said Mrs. Walker caustically. "As to -Charvington, I believe he was more sinned against than sinning. I -shall speak of that when we meet. As it is, my feelings towards him -have relented so far as to permit my son to see him to-morrow." - -"What!" asked Lesbia, who had sat quietly during this passage of arms, -"is George going over to The Court?" - -"Yes. Lord Charvington sent him a message asking him to call. What he -wishes to see him about I cannot guess." - -"I know: I know," cried the girl joyfully. "I told him about George -and how George had lost his situation through a false accusation. Lord -Charvington said that he would see George and get him something to do, -so that we might marry." - -"Oh that's it, is it?" said Mrs. Walker, smiling and smoothing the -girl's hair. - -"Will you let your son accept favours from Charvington?" asked Hale -sneeringly, "from the man who----" - -"That is quite enough," said Mrs. Walker, imperiously. "I will have an -explanation with Lord Charvington. I believe from the bottom of my -heart that you were the cause of all the trouble between us. But it -strikes me," Mrs. Walker gathered her mantle round her and sat with -folded arms like a grim and pitiless Fate, "that you are nearing the -end, Mr. Walter Hale. Destiny has been kind to you so far: she will be -kind no longer. I see," Mrs. Walker stared at Hale's twitching face; -"I see imprisonment: I see death: I see----" - -"Oh damn your Witch of Endor rubbish," shouted Hale, jumping to his -feet with the perspiration beading his brow, for he was impressed by -the absolute conviction with which she spoke. "You talk nonsense, -infernal nonsense. And see here, you shall not interfere between my -daughter and----" - -"I will do as I please and so shall Lesbia," said Mrs. Walker, -interrupting the vehement speech. "You forget that you are only at -large because of Lord Charvington's refusal to prosecute. If you -meddle with this marriage as you have done, he will lay you by the -heels. Yes, you and your gang." - -"My gang?" Hale swallowed something and laughed uneasily, "my gang?" - -"You and Tait and Maud Ellis and Sargent and that miserable -opium-smoking brother of his. You are all rogues and thieves and----" - -"You can prove nothing of all this," interrupted Hale, now quite -livid. - -"George can," said Mrs. Walker nodding significantly. "He has seen the -man Canning, whom you call The Shadow, although his real name is -Arthur Sargent." - -"Oh!" Lesbia rose quickly, "Has Mr. Canning seen George?" - -"Yes, and he has told much which your precious father would like to be -hidden," said Mrs. Walker quietly. - -Hale laughed and wiped his brow. "All the same," he said, wetting his -dry lips, "I am Lesbia's father after all. If you disgrace me, you -disgrace her, so I am quite safe." - -"That is right, hide behind a woman's petticoats," said Mrs. Walker -bitterly, "it was always your custom. Now you come with me," she rose. -"I have something to say to you and it must be said out of doors. -Lesbia, go into the garden and see George." - -"I'll come," said Hale promptly enough, "I am not afraid of arrest; I -know too much. After you, madam," and he held the door open mockingly. - - - - -CHAPTER XX -JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS MEETING - - -Ordinarily speaking Lesbia would have anxiously awaited the conclusion -of Mrs. Walker's out-of-door interview with her father. But when she -saw them stroll away in the moonlight, she suddenly remembered that -George was waiting in the garden to explain. Probably the interview -asked by Mrs. Walker had merely been an excuse to get Hale out of the -way so that he might not interrupt the lovers' meeting, as he -assuredly would do if left to his own marplot devices. Lesbia, -therefore, saw that it was foolish to waste the golden hour, when it -had been so propitiously brought about. Closing the front door, she -ran rapidly along the passage into the garden and sped lightly down -the grass-grown path. In another minute she was under the tree and in -George's arms. - -The night was lovely with moonlight and radiant with stars. In the -neglected garden roses red and white and yellow breathed fragrance -into the still, warm air of summer. There was not a breath of -wind and the ripples on the broad river were only formed by the -smoothly-flowing current. It murmured softly between the green banks -and was an accompaniment to the occasional song of the nightingales, -which spoke one to the other in the garden and across the river. At -the dawn of love, the blackbird had fluted his song of joy, when the -sky was blue and the sunshine was glorious. Now the sleeping world was -bathed mysteriously in silver under a starry dome, and the nightingale -sang a diviner song. Through much sorrow had they come to a better -understanding of love, and the liquid notes of the immortal bird alone -could interpret the nobler feelings which trouble had begotten. In -George's arms lay Lesbia, safe at last in the haven of love, and the -night sent upon them a benediction in the song of the bird. - -"But you have been very, very cruel," said Lesbia softly. Woman-like -she was the first to find her tongue. - -"I might say the same of you, dear," whispered George, sitting down -and gathering her closer in his arms, "but neither of us was cruel. -Circumstances are to blame." - -Lesbia, knowing that there was no period to the golden hour now that -her father was out of the way, settled herself comfortably for a long -talk. She had much to tell and much to ask, and before the rapture of -love's silence could be renewed there was much to explain. "I know -that I behaved very badly," she whispered penitently, "but I could not -help it. Unless I had broken our engagement, my father told me that -Maud Ellis would denounce you as a thief." - -"I understand, dearest; but you did not believe that I was guilty?" - -"No," Lesbia pressed her cheek against his, "of course I didn't: but -if I had not been cruel I should not have been kind. I could not risk -Maud's accusing you publicly. But perhaps," added the girl, hopefully, -"she would not have done so, and I was weak to be so cajoled by her -and by my father." - -"I think you acted wisely," said George, after a pause. "Maud led me -into a trap and certainly would not have let me out again until I -agreed to marry her, or at least until you gave me up. You did so and -she was content for the time being. She could part us, my sweet, but -she could not make me false to you." - -"I knew it, in spite of your cruel letter." - -"It was as cruel as yours, Lesbia, so we can cry quits on that score. -I know that you learned the truth through Canning. He explained to me, -and spoke very gratefully of your kindness to him in his illness." - -"How did you meet him, George?" - -"He met me. That is, he wrote to me at Medmenham asking me to see him -in the City as he had something important to tell me. We met in a -Mecca." - -"A Mecca?" - -"One of those underground coffee-rooms in London City, dear. There -Canning, or rather Sargent as he really is, explained." - -"He told you who he was?" - -"Yes! And he told me also that Tait was connected with a gang of -thieves, two members of which had robbed Tait's strong-room with his -connivance. Tait thus got the insurance money in addition to the -jewels which he sold on the Continent. He made about forty thousand -pounds over the deal and, after paying his accomplices, had enough -left to avert a financial crisis, which was the reason for the -robbery." - -"Did you know then that my father was a thief?" asked Lesbia, -shuddering. - -"Of course not." - -"I thought you did know, and for that reason had thrown me over." - -"Lesbia," George said vehemently, and pressed her so strongly to his -breast that she almost cried out with the delicious pain; "how can you -think so meanly of me? Were you the daughter of a murderer I should -marry you. It is you whom I love, my dearest, and not all the fathers -and crimes in the world will ever separate us." - -"Yet something parted us for a time." - -"Your letter." - -"That at first," acknowledged Lesbia, sighing at the memory of what -she had been forced to write, "then yours. Oh, George, when I made it -plain that Maud--the horrid girl--could do nothing, why didn't you -come back to me?" - -"Because Maud was too clever. Finding out that she could not accuse -me, since Canning could prove my innocence, Maud played a bold game -and told me that your father had robbed Tait's strong-room. She swore -that if I did not write to you, as you had written to me, she would -denounce Mr. Hale and have him put in prison. Lesbia," George suddenly -slipped from the seat and knelt at the girl's feet holding her hands -tightly, "what could I do in the circumstances but write as Maud -dictated? I did not dare to let her bring this shame on you." - -"But you could have explained your reason?" - -"No, dear, no. Maud was too smart for that. She insisted that I should -give no explanation, hoping that out of pique you would throw me over -and marry Sargent as your father desired. He was in the plot also. I -had to let things stand, as I was helpless; but I trusted that your -heart would guess the truth. I was always true to you; I have always -been. But you no doubt thought me false from that letter, as I thought -you heartless from the way in which you wrote. Now I can see, you can -see, that neither one of us is to blame. We were the sport of -circumstances." - -Lesbia bent and kissed his yellow hair. "I understand now," she said -softly, "but, oh George, how could Maud Ellis or my father think that -I would marry Captain Sargent, a mere apology for a man, and hardly -that even?" - -"They hoped to work on your feelings; to wear you out, my dear. But -had you become engaged to that dandy scoundrel I should have stopped -any possible marriage by denouncing Sargent as a member of Tait's -gang." - -"Is he, George?" asked Lesbia quickly, and she remembered what Mrs. -Walker had said in the drawing-room. - -"Yes! Canning--his brother, you know--did not tell me everything, but -he revealed a great deal. Sargent is in society and poses as a man of -good family living on his fortune. He is well-born, but he has no -money save what he obtains by theft." - -Lesbia shuddered, "How horrible; how sordid. And my father?" her voice -sank. - -"He is in the swim also, so are Maud Ellis and Tait. Indeed, I believe -that Tait is the head of the whole infernal business. But that I knew -your father was in with the lot and that I wished to spare you, I -would have gone to the police at once." - -"Oh!" Lesbia's tears dropped on her lover's hand, "how dreadful it all -is." - -George knelt before her and drew her head down on his shoulder. -"There, there, dear!" he said, gently drying her eyes, "don't worry; -we'll be married soon, and then you will be taken away from this -terrible life." - -"Tim also," murmured Lesbia tearfully, "I can't leave Tim behind." - -"Of course he'll come too," said George cheerily, "I don't believe -that he knew anything of the rascality that was going on." - -"I think he did," said Lesbia doubtfully, "not that he is wicked -himself. But he knew and, I believe, held his dear tongue for my -sake." - -"Tim would do anything for you, darling, in the same way as Canning -would." - -"Poor Mr. Canning--I mean Mr. Sargent." - -"No, don't call him by his real name; he wishes to be known simply as -Canning--The Shadow. He belongs to the gang and so does that Mrs. -Petty who was set to watch you." - -"A dreadful woman," said Lesbia, nestling, "how I disliked her. But I -am sorry that Mr. Canning is wicked, George. He has been so kind." - -"Kindness begets kindness," said Walker sententiously, "and I don't -think Canning is so very wicked. He has been unlucky all his life and -drifted from bad to worse until he took to smoking opium. That -finished him, and he was on the streets when his brother--who always -kept his head, in spite of his silly looks--took him up, and made him -his servant. Canning does a lot of the dirty work of the gang, and did -not denounce them as he would only be thrown again on the world. Also -the gang would certainly do him harm if the fact of his betraying them -became known." - -"And it is known, George. I am sure of it; because Mr. Canning told me -to mention his name to Maud Ellis. If she is a member of the gang, she -must have told the rest about the betrayal." - -"I daresay that is why Canning went into hiding," said George -thoughtfully; "however, all we can do is to leave him to deal with the -matter. For your sake I can say nothing since your father----" - -"George," Lesbia sat up and placed her hands on his shoulders, as he -knelt at her feet, "your mother told me that you were going to see -Lord Charvington to-morrow." - -Walker nodded. "It is true, though I don't know what he wishes to see -me about. I don't know him; I never met him." - -"I have met him, and I know him," said Lesbia eagerly, "and he is the -kindest and best man in the world. He wants to help us, George, and to -get you something to do so that we may marry. Now you must ask him to -advance you money to go to Australia or Canada, and we can marry -before we go. Then we can start a new life." - -"I suggested something of that sort to my mother, but she was averse -from leaving England. Still, she may change her mind." - -"She must, and she can come also," said Lesbia vehemently. "Oh, -George, don't you see that I cannot remain in England? Even if my -father escapes this time, as he will, because Lord Charvington is so -kind, he is sure to be found out some day. Then think of the disgrace. -I should always be unhappy thinking of what might happen. No, George, -if you love me, let us marry and place the ocean between this -miserable old life and the happy new one which we are sure to have -together. Say yes, dear George, say yes." - -"I do, I do. I think your idea is excellent, and you must persuade my -mother to act in this way. To-morrow I shall suggest our plan to Lord -Charvington. I daresay he will give us enough to go away with and then -I shall soon earn enough to pay him back. Yes, dear," George rose, -looking tall and stalwart in the moonlight, "we shall begin a new life -together and leave all this wickedness behind us." - -Lesbia rose also and clung to her tall lover like an ivy to an oak. "I -believe that everything will come right at last," she declared -joyfully, "as Tim says it will. Only he added that the cross began it -and the cross must end it, whatever that may mean." - -George shook his head. "I can't explain the cross," he said -doubtfully, "it is all very mysterious. Lord Charvington had it in his -possession according to his wife. And yet I cannot think that -Charvington would commit a burglary. He," George smiled broadly, -"cannot possibly belong to the gang. However, it was stolen with the -jewels, so your father----" - -"He has not got it, George. He told your mother that he had not got -it." - -"Then either your father or Lady Charvington is telling a lie. -However, I shall learn the truth when I see him to-morrow. And now, -dear, you must go in, as it grows late." - -"No," said Lesbia, petulantly. "I have to wait here until your mother -comes to us. She went out to talk with my father. George," she added, -after a pause, "I wonder what your mother knows about my father." - -"Nothing very good, you may be certain," said Walker grimly. "She must -know him as a very clever rogue. By the way, Lesbia, do you know how -your father and Sargent escaped discovery when they robbed Tait's -strong-room." - -"Was Captain Sargent the other--thief?" said Lesbia, shivering at the -horrible sound of the word. - -"Yes. He and your father arranged with Tait. Maud knew of the -arrangement and used it to inveigle me into a trap. Her chloroform -business was all a fake, if you will forgive the slang. Tait gave the -key and the two simply opened the strong-room and cleared with the -jewels. When I pursued them they dodged into the wood round the house, -and then entered the house again by a door which they had left open. -Then, after putting away the jewels in Tait's own private room, they -came down and joined the other guests in the search. Very clever of -them, wasn't it, dear?" - -"Oh, don't, don't!" cried Lesbia, catching his hand and looking white -and wan. "It's so terrible to think that my own father should do this. -Why have I such a father?" she asked, raising her eyes in despair to -the moon. "What have I done to have such a father?" - -"Hush, hush, dear," George pressed her to him. "Think no more of him. -He is not worthy of you." - -"He was never affectionate to me," sobbed Lesbia, whose nerves were -quite unstrung, as might have been expected after what she had -undergone. "We never understood each other. I was never drawn to him. -Why, oh, why?" - -George caught the hands she was wringing, firmly in his warm, kind -clasp. - -"My dearest, listen to me," he said softly. "You have been unhappy in -the past, but you shall be happy in the future. Let your father fade -out of your life, and come with me to the land of love. It is said -that a woman shall forsake her parents and cling to her husband. So," -said George, drawing himself up, "you are mine for ever, and when we -are married it will be my delight to make you perfectly happy." - -"Ah, yes, but the shadow of the past will ever remain. After all, he -is my father. I can't do away with that," and she continued to sob. - -The young man could only press her to his distressed heart and smooth -her hair. After all, what could he say in the face of facts? Wicked -and cold and hard and cruel as the man was, Hale undoubtedly was the -girl's father, and nothing could do away with the painful fact. But -for that relationship, George would have throttled Hale, or would have -thrown him into the river; but as it was, he could do nothing. He -could not even comfort his dear love who lay sobbing in his arms. The -nightingale still sang on, the stars still twinkled like jewels and -the moon still poured floods of white light down on the sleeping -earth. But the magical glory of the scene was darkened to the lovers -because of the evil of those around them. Yet--and Lesbia learned the -lesson afterwards--out of sorrow comes joy and the way of love is the -way of the cross. Something like this came into the young man's mind. - -"Remember the motto of the amethyst cross," he whispered. "'Refuse and -lose'; we cannot understand why we are so afflicted, but we must bear -the cross if we are to win the crown. And after all, dear, you should -be sorry as I am for your father. He is reaping much grief and pain -for his sowing." - -Lesbia sighed and placed her arms round George's neck. "Yes," she said -in a weary manner, "the cross is heavy, but we must bear it. I am sure -that in the end all will come right. Tim said so and so did Lord -Charvington." - -Down the pathway came Mrs. Walker, looking tall and stately and stern -in her dark robes. Her face was set and white, and--strange in so hard -a woman--she looked as though she had been weeping. "Lesbia," she said -softly, "come back to the cottage and go to bed." - -"But my father is there," sobbed the girl, "and you promised to take -me to Medmenham." - -"Your father has left the cottage for a time at least," said Mrs. -Walker, gently disengaging the girl from her son's arms. "You will be -alone with Tim and he will look after you, until we see how things -turn out." - -"How did you induce Mr. Hale to go, mother?" asked George, looking -troubled. - -"That is not for you to know at present," she said sternly. "I had an -interview with him--a private interview," she added with emphasis, -"and he saw that it was best to leave for a time. Rest in peace, my -child," she said, kissing Lesbia's brow. "You are safe now, and can -come to no harm. Be brave as you have been, for a little time longer, -and all will end well." - -"George," said Lesbia, stretching her arms like a a weary child. - -"Dearest!" the young man kissed her and gave her into his mother's -charge. So the two women passed into the cottage, while he watched -them sadly. - -Sorrow had not yet done her work. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI -TWO INTERVIEWS - - -At the present moment, George Walker had plenty of time on his hands, -and being naturally industrious, he did not enjoy the enforced -idleness. Hitherto he had spent the bulk of his leisure hours in -looking for a situation and in thinking of Lesbia. Now he made up his -mind to act in order to bring about some sort of settlement of his -very disorderly affairs. Lesbia could no longer remain with her -father, as his character was so extremely bad. Hale had left the -cottage, but would be certain to return again, therefore George wished -to see if he could not marry Lesbia--say within a month--so as to -rescue her from the troubles by which she was environed. - -To do this he required assistance and believed that he would -receive it from Lord Charvington, who appeared to be particularly -well-disposed towards the girl. The idea of emigrating to the -Colonies--if Mrs. Walker could be persuaded to lend her approval to -the suggestion--was by no means a bad one, as then the whole unhappy -past could be set aside for ever. In another country with better -prospects, and unaffected by the sordid life compulsorily spent with -sordid people, George foresaw that he would be able to make a calm, -bright and happy future for himself and his wife. He therefore crossed -the river and walked to Maidenhead with the idea of explaining his -scheme to Charvington, and asking him to advance the necessary funds. - -But before starting a new life George wished to round off the old. He -saw very plainly that for some reason the amethyst cross had been the -cause of the late troubles. Since its loss everything had gone wrong: -and it was necessary that it should be found if things were to be put -right. Jabez, the lawyer, insisted that it should be produced before -he would part with the fifty thousand pounds trust money. If, then, -the ornament could be found and given into Jabez's hands, Mrs. Walker -would benefit. Certainly, there was a chance that her late sister had -left a child, but in the absence of proof this difficulty might be -overcome. At all events, the production of the cross appeared to be -necessary to force Jabez into dealing with the trust money and its -accumulations. - -Then again, George wished to do something for Canning. The man was a -wastrel and a ne'er-do-weel and had no one to take an interest in him: -but he had done Lesbia a service at considerable risk, and it was only -fair that he should be rewarded. Undoubtedly he belonged to the gang -of clever thieves, but he had repented sufficiently of his wickedness -to help the lovers, whom the gang--or at least three members of -it--had desired to destroy. This service should be recompensed, -especially as Canning could not remain in England without being -exposed to the vengeance of his former associates. George determined -to lay the case before Lord Charvington, and ask him to help. Failing -any aid being forthcoming in this quarter, George intended to take -Canning to Australia or Canada with him, and there start the man on a -new career. Canning was not an old man and there was ample time for -him to redeem the shortcomings of his youth. He was not inherently -wicked as were his brother and Hale, but merely weak. - -On arriving at The Court, George was at once shown into the library -wherein Lord Charvington was waiting for him. The old man arose -courteously and came forward with outstretched hand. He appeared to be -pleased that George had kept his appointment so punctually, and -expressed himself with great cordiality. "I am very glad to see you, -Mr. Walker," he said, when the two were again seated. "I knew your -father." - -"My mother also, I believe, sir," said George. - -Charvington's face changed. "I have not seen Mrs. Walker for many a -long day," he remarked in a low voice, "perhaps we may meet again, -but----" he paused to ask an abrupt and extraordinary question. "Does -your mother ever speak ill of me?" he demanded, his eyes eagerly -searching the young man's face. - -"No," answered George, much astonished. "She has scarcely mentioned -your name. Why should she speak ill of you?" - -"I thought that Hale might have--but that is neither here nor there. -It is enough for you to know, Mr. Walker, that I knew your mother and -her sister over thirty years ago. We all three knew Hale also, and he -caused trouble. He would cause trouble still if he could, but I think -this last escapade of his will keep him quiet." - -"Did you know my aunt Miss Katherine Morse?" asked George, astonished. - -"Yes," Charvington rested his head on his hand and drew figures on the -blotting-paper, "but why do you speak of her by her maiden name? She -was married, you know." - -"I don't know her married name. My mother never mentions it. Perhaps," -George hesitated, "perhaps she doesn't know it." - -"Yes, she does," answered Charvington, still drawing, "so does Hale. -Your aunt died in his house at Wimbledon remember. I understood from -Jabez that Hale had admitted as much." - -"I believe he did. You know Mr. Jabez?" - -"Yes." Charvington heaved heavy sigh. "But I have not seen him for -years. We correspond occasionally--that is all," he paused, then -dropping the pencil with which he was drawing, wheeled his chair and -looked at his guest briskly. "But we have no time to talk of these old -stories. Let us come to the point. Have you heard about Lesbia's stay -here?" - -"Yes," said George very distinctly, "Lady Charvington told both my -mother and myself about the matter." - -Lord Charvington's face grew a dull brick red. "When did you see my -wife?" - -"Yesterday: she called on my mother at Medmenham." - -"What did she say?" asked the elder man, abruptly and anxiously. - -George gave details in a blunt cool way, exaggerating nothing and -suppressing nothing. The effect on Lord Charvington was very marked. -He jumped up from his chair and paced the room, holding his head in -both his hands. - -"Good heavens: oh! good heavens," he muttered, "these women, these -women. How dare Helen speak so? What does she guess? What does she -know?" - -"About what?" asked George with keen curiosity, and his question -recalled Lord Charvington to the fact, which he seemed to have -forgotten in his agitation, that he was not alone. - -"Never mind," he said sharply, and returned to his seat more composed. -"Do you mean to say that Lady Charvington stated that she had found -the cross in this library?" - -"Yes, sir. And I thought that you might know----" - -"I know nothing," interrupted Charvington violently, and nervously -shifting various articles on his writing-table. "I know that there is -such a cross. I remember that Mr. Samuel Morse gave it to his -daughter, and remarked on its oddity. But how did it get into this -library?" - -"Did you not bring it here?" - -"No, sir, no." Charvington again rose and began to walk off his -uncontrollable agitation. "I have not seen that cross for years. The -last time I set eyes on it Miss Morse--I may as well call her Miss -Morse, since your mother has not revealed her married name--wore it -round her neck. My wife says that she found it here. I tell you, Mr. -Walker, that I do not know how it came into this room. I never saw -it." - -"How strange!" said George, believing this speech, but wondering -nevertheless. - -"But how comes it," asked Charvington wheeling, "that _you_ know about -the amethyst cross, Mr. Walker?" - -"I received it from Lesbia as a love-gift," explained George, and went -on to relate the circumstances of the assault and robbery. Charvington -walked up and down nodding, and muttering at intervals. When George -ended he came to a halt before the young man. - -"Lesbia told me much of what you tell me," he said quietly, "but of -course I was ignorant that my wife had taken the cross from this room. -She did not tell me that. I cannot understand." - -"And I," said George in his turn, "cannot understand why Lady -Charvington is so bitter against Lesbia." - -"Ah! Woman! Woman!" said Charvington, with a gesture of despair, "who -can understand the nature of Woman! Let us leave that question for the -time being, Mr. Walker. What we have to do is to get at the root of -this matter. If the cross was in my wife's jewel-case, as she asserts, -undoubtedly the burglary was committed to gain possession of it. Hale -was the thief, as you know. He has sent me back the case intact. I -received it this morning, as only on condition of its being restored, -would I consent to hush the matter up. And I hushed it up for his -daughter's sake, Mr. Walker. But," Charvington wrinkled his brow and -threw back his white mass of hair, "the amethyst cross is not amongst -the jewels." - -"Hale probably kept it back. He wants it, you know, as he has some -idea of getting this money by producing it." - -"Yes! Yes! I heard something about that," muttered Charvington, "but -of course that is impossible, unless--unless----" he paused, opening -and shutting his hands feverishly. "Damn him," he burst out with a -stamp of his foot, "I would like to throttle him as he nearly -throttled you." - -George looked up in surprise. "Throttled me?" - -"Yes," said Charvington impatiently "can't you see? It must have been -Hale who assaulted you on the towing-path to get back that cross, and -he, as an expert thief, took the ornament from your cottage." - -"On the face of it, that appears probable," said George slowly, "all -the same I don't think it was the case." - -"Why not? He wanted the amethyst cross." - -"Quite so. But if he had obtained it from my cottage so long ago, he -would have taken it to Mr. Jabez to procure the money if possible. The -mere fact, too, that he was willing I should marry Lesbia, if I found -the missing ornament, shows that Hale did not commit the assault and -robbery." - -"Then who could have done so?" - -George shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say. Probably the person who -placed it in this room." - -"If it ever was in this room," muttered Charvington, darkly. - -"Your wife declares----" - -"Oh yes--oh yes. I know what she declares. Well, these things are not -to be threshed out in five minutes. Mr. Walker," he stopped short -before George, "do you wish to marry Lesbia?" - -"With all my heart and soul. We have come together again and last -night we renewed our love-vows." - -"They should never have been broken," said Charvington impatiently. - -"They never were, save by circumstances," said George solemnly, "our -hearts were always true," and he related the plotting of Maud and -Walter Hale. - -"Devils! Devils!" muttered Charvington, with another stamp, "and it's -all my fault--all my fault." - -"What!" George scarcely knew if he had heard aright. - -"All my fault I say." Charvington clutched his head with an expression -of pain. "You do not know, you can't guess--you--you--never mind. I'll -put an end to all this. You shall marry Lesbia and make her happy. I -shall settle Hale once and for all. Come, what is your idea?" - -"My idea," said George deliberately, "was, when I entered this room, -to ask you to give me enough, as a loan, to marry Lesbia, so that I -could take her to Australia or Canada and begin a new life. But now I -have changed my mind, as I can guess that in some way you can arrange -matters without my having to adopt such an extreme course." - -"Yes," said Charvington quietly; "I believe that I can arrange matters -and in a very surprising way. They should have been arranged long ago, -only for the fact that I had not the courage. It is very hard to do -right sometimes. But the time has come. Mr. Walker, in three days -certain people must be brought together into this room." - -"What people, sir?" - -"Walter Hale and Lesbia; yourself and your mother; Mr. Jabez and -my wife. When we are all assembled I shall be able to straighten -things, crooked as they are at present. I ask you to see that these -people--saving my wife, who will be invited by me to be present--are -here on the third day from now at three o'clock in the afternoon." - -"And then?" - -"Then you shall marry Lesbia and be happy ever afterwards. Now go." - -George went without another word, wondering very much at the turn -which events had taken. He had hoped that Charvington would arrange -his destiny and that of Lesbia, but the old nobleman seemed able and -ready to arrange the destiny of many other people. George could not -entirely understand the meaning of Charvington's behaviour, and after -a brief reflection did not attempt to. He decided to write a note -telling Hale and Lesbia to be at The Court at the appointed time, and -also to go personally to London to see Mr. Jabez and arrange for his -presence. Having thus made up his mind what to do, George strode -towards home whistling with a load off his mind. In one way or another -things would surely be put right. - -Then came a surprise. While passing through Nightingale Thicket the -young man saw Canning, looking more shadowy than ever, flitting down -the road to meet him. But as the man drew nearer George saw that his -usually pale face was flushed, that he was dressed spick and span as a -gentleman, and that there was a general look of opulence about him. He -glided up to Walker swiftly--for he appeared too unsubstantial to do -anything save glide--and broke into a voluble explanation. - -"Walker," he cried, and in loud tones which contrasted markedly with -his usual whispering speech, "I came down this morning especially to -see you. They told me you had gone to Charvington's place, so I -crossed the river and walked in this direction on the chance of -meeting you." - -"What's your hurry?" asked George, surprised by this change of clothes -and looks and manner. - -"I am leaving England, and have come to say good-bye. Let us sit down -on the grass by the roadside, no one will come along. After I have -explained, I shall push on to Maidenhead and take the train to London. -From London I go to Italy. Yes, an old aunt of mine has remembered me -in her will at the eleventh hour, and I have inherited two hundred a -year, an annuity, the principal of which I cannot touch." - -"Luckily for you," said George, taking out his pipe; "you would waste -it." - -"I daresay, I was always a wrong 'un. However, I go to Italy because -there I can live like a fighting-cock on an income which means penury -in England. I go also because Tait and Hale and the rest of them are -making things too hot for me. But before departing I wanted to see you -to confess." - -George lighted his pipe and looked sideways in surprise. "Confess -what?" - -"That I assaulted you," said Canning, nervously. - -"You," George glanced in amazement at the frail figure. - -"Yes. Of course I took you by surprise, or you could have knocked me -into a cocked-hat. You can punch me now, Walker." - -"I don't want to punch you as you put it," said George bluntly. "Of -course you acted like a skunk in sneaking behind me and knocking me on -the head, to say nothing of tying me up; all the same----" - -"I tied you up," said Canning, who had lain down and was smoking a -cigarette, "because I did not wish you to recover and get back to your -cottage at Medmenham until I had secured the cross." - -George turned indignantly. "Then you were the thief?" he declared. - -"Yes," admitted Canning, coughing. "Kick me. I'll take it lying down." - -"No," said George, after a pause; "you have done me a service through -Lesbia, by preventing the success of Maud Ellis's plot. The evil you -have done is counterbalanced by the good. But how did you get me into -Rose Cottage?" - -Canning sat up and looked puzzled. "I didn't do that," he said -earnestly. "I left you trussed on the towing-path like a fowl, and how -the deuce you got into the cottage I know no more than you do. Have -you never found out?" - -"No," said George promptly, "but I am beginning to find out many -things, and it is just possible that I may solve that riddle also. By -the way, why did you sneak the amethyst cross?" - -"My brother wanted it." - -"Sargent?" - -"Yes. Hale came to Cookham on the evening when you proposed to Miss -Lesbia, and told Alfred that she had given you the cross. Alfred -insisted that I should rob you, and primed me with champagne to do -what he wanted. I started for the cottage with a sandbag and a rope to -stun you and bind you, hoping to take you by surprise. I saw you -coming along the towing-path in the twilight and then----" - -"Yes," George cut him short, "I know the rest. You crept up behind me -and stunned me and bound me, and then sneaked back to rob the cottage. -You are a pretty bad lot, I must say." - -"I am," said Canning languidly, "but now that I have enough to keep -the wolf from the door I'll reform. Besides, you can kick me as I -said." - -"I don't want to, you poor devil, since you have confessed and have -done me a service. Why did you?" - -"Because Miss Hale was the only human being who was ever kind to me," -said Canning, throwing away his cigarette. "Oh, Walker, you don't know -the terrible life I have had. I never was wicked, really I wasn't: -only weak, only easily led. I hated myself all the time I was working -for Alfred and those accursed wretches he associated with. I hated all -mankind because I was treated so badly: but Miss Hale changed my -nature by her kindness, and I did what I could to repair my wrong -towards her and towards you. Because she loved you I have confessed -because I want her to know the truth. Then I pass out of her life and -yours for ever. Take this address in London," Canning handed him a -pencilled card, "it will find me for the next week. After that I go to -Italy. Tell Miss Hale everything I have told you, and then ask her to -write and say that she forgives me. I don't want her to think badly of -me." - -George nodded and slipped the card into his pocket, feeling very sorry -for the miserable man. "Only one question I should like to ask," he -said, rising from the grass; "why did your brother want this cross?" - -"Lady Charvington--as I found out from overhearing a conversation -between them--asked him to get it." - -George thought of the lie told by the lady as to the cross having been -found by her in the library. "And why did she want it?" - -"I can't say," replied Canning, moving away; "ask her. Good-bye. And -Walker, my dear fellow," he added, "one last word. Maud Ellis and Hale -are plotting to get that money which should come to your mother. -Good-bye," and he disappeared down the road--withdrawing swiftly like -a receding mist. That was the last George saw of Arthur Sargent, -_alias_ Canning, _alias_ The Shadow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII -THE PLOT - - -But that Canning fairly ran away, George would have stopped him to ask -further questions. He had told much which was new and strange and -explained a great deal: but his last remark hinted at further -difficulties. - -Apparently, Hale had not yet given up all idea of procuring the money, -although how he hoped to do so in the absence of the child, George -could not understand. Of course, Walker felt very certain that Hale -had kept back the amethyst cross when sending the jewels to Lord -Charvington, but its production by Hale would have no effect on Mr. -Jabez. The lawyer wanted the cross to be produced by the child of -Katherine Morse--whatever her married name might be and, according to -Hale himself, the dying woman had no child. Mrs. Walker, indeed, had -stated that her sister had written about a sick child, but this had -probably died. If not, surely during all these twenty years the child -would have come forward to recover its inheritance. - -George was naturally puzzled with this new development, and decided -that to learn the truth it would be best to go to the fountain head. -That is, if Hale intended to use the cross to procure the money he -would have to produce it to Mr. Jabez in his office in Lincoln's Inn -Fields. It was thus best to go at once to Mr. Jabez and inform him of -what Canning had said about this new plot. What Maud Ellis had to do -with the matter it was impossible to say; George could no more -understand her connection with the matter than he could understand why -Lady Charvington had employed Captain Sargent to get her the cross. -What possible interest could she have in the amethyst cross? And why -had she told a deliberate lie about its being in the library? - -George was quite bewildered with the complicated state of affairs. And -Jabez, as he believed, alone could solve the mystery. - -George duly gave his mother Lord Charvington's message. She received -it in silence, but with a change of colour, which did not escape his -notice. - -"Mother," he asked abruptly, "what do you know about Lord -Charvington?" - -"He was not Lord Charvington when I knew him," confessed Mrs. Walker, -after a pause, "but Philip Hale. Hale, you know, is the family name -and Lesbia's father bears it as a cousin. Charvington had not come -into the title some twenty and more years ago. I knew him very well -and liked him," she sighed, "but he was always weak." - -George looked incredulous. "Weak," he echoed, "he seems to me to be a -very strong man and one who knows his own mind." - -"He has no doubt learned by experience," replied Mrs. Walker, "and -heaven only knows how badly he needed to learn. So he is going to -speak at last. He should have done so long ago." - -"About what, mother?" - -Mrs. Walker pursed up her mouth. "Never mind, George, I prefer that -Lord Charvington should tell his own story. If he does, Walter Hale -will find himself in trouble, and I shall be glad of that. I have -waited long to see him punished: soon I shall be satisfied." - -"Why do you hate Hale so, mother?" - -"I have every cause to hate him," cried Mrs. Walker vindictively, and -her eyes glittered. "Years ago I loved Walter Hale." - -"You--loved--that--man?" said her son slowly. - -"What is there strange in that?" snapped his mother, trying to keep -her restless hands still. "He was handsome and clever and rich. I -loved him and I thought that he loved me. I gave him my heart and -found out only too late that he was playing with me. He was always -cruel and wicked and hard, selfish to the core and thinking only of -himself. We were engaged," added Mrs. Walker, drooping her head, and -in a lower tone, "and he confessed then that he had very little money. -He believed that I was an heiress, and so I was to the extent of fifty -thousand pounds. My father did not like him and declared that if I -married Walter he would cut me off with a shilling. I did not care, -for I loved the man for himself: but he loved me for my money, and -when he learned my father's decision he threw me over, and went after -some other woman who was rich." - -"Lesbia's mother?" - -"I suppose so," said Mrs. Walker, pretending indifference; "but he -vanished out of my life, and I heard that he was courting this -heiress, in the hope of making a good marriage for his pocket. I was -left alone, and I married your father Aylmer Walker, not because I -loved him, but because he was kind and sympathetic. Aylmer was a -spendthrift and wasted all my money; all the same he was kind-hearted -and not a scoundrel like Walter Hale. Then you were born and shortly -afterwards misfortunes came. I was only married four years when -your father broke his neck leaving me penniless. Then Kate eloped -with"--Mrs. Walker paused--"she eloped, that is all I can say. I saw -Walter Hale again and learned, and learned--oh!" he rose and wrung out -her hands, "what a villain the man is. But he shall be punished now. I -swear if Charvington will not punish him, I shall punish him myself." - -"But mother----" - -"Not a word," cried Mrs. Walker passionately, "I can't bear to discuss -the matter. When we meet at Charvington's place, the long-hidden truth -will come to light. Until then----" she stopped, closed her mouth, -shook her head, and left the room hastily. - -George wondered what could be the hidden truth she referred to, but -could come to no conclusion. He wrote a letter to Lesbia saying that -she was to come to Lord Charvington's place, and stating that he would -call to take her over. Then he smoked a pipe and retired to bed, -intending the next day to go to London and see Mr. Jabez in Lincoln's -Inn Fields. Mrs. Walker did not put in an appearance again on that -evening. Of course George, as a lover, lay awake and thought of -Lesbia. He was sorely inclined to postpone his visit to Mr. Jabez, and -go over to Marlow on the morrow, but it was necessary to execute -business before indulging in pleasure, since, when everything was -settled, he would have Lesbia beside him always as his dear wife. He -therefore restrained his longing for a sight of her face, and -gradually dropped off to sleep. - -Next morning Mrs. Walker had her breakfast in bed and did not see her -son. George left a message that he would return in the evening, and -went to Henley in his boat to catch the mid-day train. He soon arrived -in London, and without wasting time went to see Mr. Jabez. - -The old lawyer had a large and expensive office in Lincoln's Inn -Fields, and from the number of clerks was apparently much sought after -as a solicitor. He received Walker as soon as the young man sent in -his card, as it seemed that George had luckily arrived during the -slack season. "A week ago," said Mr. Jabez, in his precise way, "I -should have had to keep you waiting for some hours." - -The room in which Jabez received his client--as George was--was a -large apartment with a painted ceiling and three long windows looking -out on to the gardens of the square. Probably in Georgian days it had -held brilliant company, but now, since the tide of fashion had rolled -farther to the west, it was given over to the dry-as-dust details of -the law. Jabez looked as hatchet-faced as ever, and still wore his -large blue spectacles to aid his weak eyes. He welcomed George -politely in his dry way, and waited to hear what the young man had to -say. - -"Lord Charvington wants you to come down to The Court the day after -to-morrow at three o'clock," said George abruptly. - -"Why?" demanded Jabez quietly, and more puzzled than he chose to -admit. - -"I can only answer you by telling you all that has taken place," -answered the young man, and forthwith related what he knew. - -Nursing his chin in the hollow of his hand, Jabez crossed his lean -legs and listened quietly enough, nodding at intervals. "I thought it -would come to this," he observed, when the young man ended. - -"Come to what?" - -"An explanation." - -"Of what?" - -"Of many things which will astonish you," said Jabez drily. "Of course -I was acquainted with Lord Charvington when he was merely the -Honourable Philip Hale. Then----" Jabez suspended further confidences. -"It is best to allow Lord Charvington to speak for himself." - -"Do you know what he intends to say?" - -"Partly. And yet," mused the solicitor, looking at his neat shoes, -"there may be something interesting which I do not know. However, the -main point is that I shall arrange to be there at the stated time. The -gathering promises to be interesting. The cross," Jabez stopped, "h'm! -yes, the cross. I see now how Hale got it." - -"He stole it from Lady Charvington, who procured it from Sargent, who -employed Canning to thieve it from me," explained George. - -"So you said before, and I am not so stupid as to require a double -explanation," said Jabez crustily, "but I am wondering how Hale hopes -to get the money by means of this cross. Certainly he declares that he -has found the child, and----" - -"What!" cried George, starting to his feet in amazement. - -Jabez looked up and raised a hand. "Don't speak so loud, your voice -goes through my head," he said in his testy manner. "Yes," he searched -amongst some papers, "here is a letter from Walter Hale saying that he -will call to-morrow at noon with the child of Katherine Morse----" - -"Doesn't he mention my aunt's married name?" - -"No," answered Jabez, sucking in his cheeks, "and that is what makes -me suspicious of the affair. However, what you have told me to-day -about Lady Charvington's share in the business, and her husband's -attitude gives me an idea. Send a wire to Lord Charvington asking him -to meet you here to-morrow. Then you can both see Mr. Hale and this -child." - -"I should like to, but what use----" - -"There! There. I have no time to waste. Go and do what you are told," -said Jabez, rising with an angry gesture. "I may be wrong and I may be -right. But putting two and two together----" he stopped and walked to -the window, musingly, "yes, I believe it may be so." - -"What may be so?" questioned George, picking up his hat. - -Jabez wheeled crossly. "Oh, you are there still. Go away and send that -wire. At noon to-morrow, bring Lord Charvington here. Good-day," he -rang the bell, "get out, young Walker, you are taking up my time." - -Wondering at the behaviour of the lawyer, George departed and -forthwith sent a prepaid wire to Charvington, asking him to come to -the Lincoln's Inn Fields office. He had half a mind to go down and -explain personally, but as he could not explain very much he relied on -the wire, hoping that Charvington's curiosity would be sufficiently -aroused to make him obey the summons. Late in the afternoon an answer -came intimating that Charvington would be at Jabez's office at the -appointed time. George was greatly pleased, as he foresaw that Hale's -little plot would in some way be frustrated, Charvington apparently -knew of much to Hale's disadvantage; hence the wily old lawyer had -induced him to be present. Having come to this conclusion Walker wired -to his mother saying that he would remain in London, and employed his -evening in going to a music hall. He positively had to do so, for if -he had remained alone in his hotel brooding over riddles which he -could by no means solve, he felt that his brain would not bear the -strain. Still, in a vague way, he felt that all things were being -shaped to a happy end and that light was coming out of the darkness -which had enshrouded things for so long. - -At a quarter to twelve in the morning George met Charvington in the -semi-courtyard in front of the mansion, wherein Jabez had his office. -The elder man jumped out of the hansom, in which he had driven from -the railway station, and walked towards the young one with an elastic -step, after he had paid his fare. - -"What's all this, Walker?" he demanded abruptly. "Why did you wire for -me to come up on this day, and at this hour, and to this place?" - -"Come upstairs to Mr. Jabez and he'll explain," said George, leading -the way up the steps, "we cannot linger here. Hale may see us." - -"Hale," Charvington followed hurriedly and caught the young man's arm, -"and why is Hale coming here?" - -"He has found--so he says--my cousin." - -"Your--cousin?" - -"My aunt's child--the heir to the property which Mr. Jabez has held -for so long." - -Charvington stopped on the landing. "So Hale is going to anticipate -me," he muttered, and without waiting to be announced he opened the -door of Jabez's private room and strode in. The lawyer looked up -irritably. - -"I'm engaged. You, Lord Charvington? Well, I might have guessed as -much from your abrupt entry. You haven't changed much in your -impulsive ways." - -Lord Charvington threw down his hat and stick and gloves and flung -himself into a chair. "I have changed very much in looks," he -retorted; "however there is no time for these personalities. Walker," -he indicated the young man who had followed him closely, "tells me -that Hale intends to produce the heiress to his aunt's property." - -Jabez looked inquisitively at Charvington through his blue spectacles. -"I believe so," he said quietly and cautiously, with a glance at his -watch. "Hale will bring the girl here in a few minutes." - -"It's a girl then," sneered Charvington. - -"You mentioned the word 'heiress' yourself," remarked Jabez, with -emphasis. - -"A mere guess. And what of the cross?" - -"Hale says that the girl will produce it." - -"Humph! I don't believe that the girl will produce stolen property. -You know that the cross was stolen from my house?" - -"So I believe," said Jabez politely. - -"Yes, Walker here told me, though how it got into my library----" - -"I can tell you that now, Lord Charvington," interposed George, "as I -heard the truth from Canning the other day. Sargent employed Canning -to steal the cross in order to pass it over to your wife." - -Charvington bounded from his chair. "What did she want with it?" - -"I can't say--I don't----" - -"Hush," said Jabez, who, at the sound of wheels in the courtyard, had -gone to one of the tall windows; "here come Hale and his heiress. Go -into the next room with Walker, Lord Charvington. When I require you I -shall summon you." - -"But why do you bring me here at all?" demanded Charvington brusquely. - -Jabez looked straight at him and his long fingers played a tune on the -table. "I have an idea," he said gravely; "you may be able to tell me -if that idea is correct." - -"What is the idea?" - -"I cannot tell it to you, until I see this heiress." - -"Very good." Charvington sat down again. "Introduce her and Hale." - -"No! No!" said Jabez anxiously, "that would never do. Wait until I -hear Hale's story and then----" - -"Hale will only tell you a pack of lies," interrupted Charvington -violently. "And besides he stole the cross and----" - -Jabez put his hand against the breast of the angry speaker and pushed -him gently towards a side door. "Go in there and wait," he said -insistently. "You also, Walker." - -"No," cried Charvington, "I shan't." - -"If you don't," said the solicitor very quietly, "I shall wash my -hands of this matter. Already Hale and his heiress are waiting in the -ante-chamber, and if your voice is recognised, they will not come in." - -"Why not?" - -"Because I believe that this is another of Hale's wicked schemes. Let -me hear the whole invention he has made up, and then I can call upon -you to substantiate the story." - -"But I can't wait. I want to know who this girl is." - -"Can't you guess?" demanded Jabez, leading him deftly to the door of -the inner room where he wished him to wait. - -"I can do more than guess, I know." - -"Humph," muttered Jabez, "I thought so." - -"You thought what?" - -"Never mind. If you know rightly, you will be able to help me." - -Charvington stamped. "I believe it's all lies. I want to see this -girl." - -"Well," said Jabez resignedly. "I shall do a thing I have never done -before since you will not be quiet otherwise. In the panel of this -door there is a small knot-hole. Look in and see if----" - -Charvington rushed into the room, dragging Walker after him, and -closed the door. Shortly afterwards they heard the entrance of two -people. The old man applied an eye to the knot-hole. Then he laughed -silently and made George apply his eye. "Look at the heiress," he said -sneeringly. - -Walker looked eagerly and saw--Maud Ellis. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII -ONE PART OF THE TRUTH - - -It was indeed Maud Ellis who entered on the arm of Mr. Hale. She was -carefully dressed and, as usual, had made the best of her looks, such -as they were. But she appeared to be anxious--to be strung up to -fighting-pitch--after the manner of a woman who anticipated that she -was not going to get her own way without a battle. On her entrance, -she measured the lean lawyer with the eye of an antagonist, and then -sat down in the chair which he politely pushed forward. As to Walter -Hale, he looked much the same as he always did, cool, polished, and -composed. Of course, he was perfectly arrayed in Bond Street taste, -and his manners were as irreproachable as was his costume. If Miss -Ellis was nervous, Hale assuredly was not. To Jabez, he suggested a -bowie-knife--an odd comparison, but one which came unexpectedly into -the lawyer's unimaginative brain. - -"You know, of course, Mr. Jabez," said Hale when seated, "what I have -come to see you about." - -The solicitor, who had taken his usual chair before the table, nodded -and pointed to Hale's letter which lay on the blotting-paper before -him. "To produce the amethyst cross," said he gravely. - -"And something more important than the cross. Allow me," Hale stood up -to give his words due effect, "to present to you, Miss Katherine -Morse----" - -"Oh," interrupted Jabez drily, "I understood from you that she died in -your Wimbledon house years ago." - -"You are thinking of my mother," put in Maud boldly. "She, indeed, is -dead; but I am her child and am called after her." - -"Even to the name of Morse?" - -"Later," said Hale, with dignity, "I can give you the married name of -this young lady's mother. Meanwhile, the cross is----" - -"Is here," said Maud, and opening a little bag which was swinging on -her wrist, she extracted therefrom a red morocco case and handed it to -Jabez. - -He opened it gravely and beheld the long-lost ornament. "It was my -dear mother's," added Miss Ellis with feigned pathos, as though the -sight was too much for her tender heart. "My grandfather gave it to -her, and----" - -"And your mother gave it to you," ended Jabez, seeing with his usual -keen gaze that her eyes were dry behind the handkerchief she was -holding to them. - -"No," she replied, unexpectedly and sadly. "I never set eyes upon it -until Mr. Hale saw me a few days ago." - -"Permit me to explain," said Hale, as watchful as a cat. "As I told -you, Miss Morse----" - -"Still no married name," muttered the solicitor ironically. - -"That will be told later," remarked Hale, provokingly self-possessed. -"I have first to tell my story." - -"Go on," Jabez stretched his legs and put his hands in his pockets, -"it is sure to be interesting." - -"I hope so," rejoined Hale, making a sign to Maud that she should not -talk, "and already you know much of it." - -"Let me see. Yes, I remember. You told me at Rose Cottage, in the -presence of Mrs. Walker, that Miss Morse died at your Wimbledon house -in the arms of your wife. She gave the cross to your wife, who -afterwards gave it to the nurse, Bridget Burke. She in her turn gave -it to your daughter Lesbia, who presented it to young Walker from whom -it was stolen. Am I right?" - -"Perfectly," said Hale gravely. "So you can see how Miss Morse here, -never set eyes on it until I brought it to her." - -"And how did you become possessed of it?" - -"I shall explain that, when you have heard Miss Morse's story." - -Maud put up her veil and wiped her lips. "I am only too anxious to -tell it," she declared eagerly, "and----" - -Jabez cut her short. "I am sure you are, but before hearing it I -should like to remind Mr. Hale that he declared in my presence and in -the presence of Mrs. Walker that there was no child." - -"Quite so," said Hale promptly. "I am not bound to tell you anything I -desire to keep silent." - -"I think you will have to do so, if you wish this young lady to get -fifty thousand pounds," said Jabez coolly. - -"Of course: that is why I am here. But I refer to the interview at my -Marlow cottage. Then, I was not bound to speak. I speak now. There was -not any child with Miss Morse when she died at my Wimbledon house. But -with her last breath she told me where she had left the child--in a -poor neighbourhood and with a poor woman." - -"Who was very good to me," said Maud, with tenderness very well acted. -"Dear Mrs. Tait, shall I ever forget her kindness?" - -"Tait. Humph. So that's the name, is it?" - -"The name of my foster-mother who brought me up. For years I have been -called Maud Ellis, but only when Mr. Hale came to see me bringing the -cross did I learn my true name and parentage." - -"Why did your foster-mother call you Ellis?" asked Jabez. - -"She passed me off to the world as her sister's child," said Maud -glibly. - -"Why? I cannot see the need." - -"Nor I," said Miss Ellis, with a swift glance at Hale. "But who knows -the human heart, Mr. Jabez?" - -"No one so far as I know. But you were saying----" - -"If you will permit me to tell my story I can make everything clear." - -"I am quite certain that you can," said the lawyer, politely ironical. -"Go on." - -"Mrs. Tait kept a lodging-house in Bloomsbury. My mother lived there -after leaving her husband--my father, who treated her very badly. I am -right," she added turning to Hale, "in saying this?" - -"He behaved like a brute," said Hale emphatically, "but then he always -was a brute I am sorry to say." - -"Dear me," murmured Jabez, "proceed, please." - -"My mother left me with Mrs. Tait, as she had very little money and -went to seek out my father at Wimbledon one bitterly cold, snowy day. -He turned her from his door, and she nearly perished in the snow. -Fortunately this good man," Maud glanced pathetically at Hale, who -tried not to look too conscious, "took in the starving and chilled -woman. My mother died, and I was left to Mrs. Tait's kind care." - -"What about the cross?" asked Jabez abruptly, stifling a yawn. - -"I can explain that," interposed Hale quickly, "indeed I have already -done so. It was given to my wife and----" - -"Of course: of course, I remember now. Well," Jabez turned to Maud, -"so you remained with Mrs. Tait." - -"Until she died. Then her husband adopted me as his niece and with him -I lived, retaining my name of Maud Ellis." - -"There was a husband then?" - -"Yes," said Hale anxiously, "you may know of him, Mr. Michael Tait, the -stockbroking philanthropist." - -"Oh," drawled the solicitor quietly, "the same man who lost his jewels -the other day." - -"Yes," admitted Hale, quite ignorant of how much Jabez knew, "the -same. He was poor when Miss Morse--or Miss Ellis if you like--came to -his wife, and Mrs. Tait kept a boarding-house to help him. Then Tait -made a lucky speculation--he was a clerk in the City--and began to -grow rich. But before he could make a fortune Mrs. Tait died, and thus -never benefited." - -"No, poor dear, and she was so very kind," said Maud sweetly, -"however, when my uncle grew rich----" - -"Your uncle?" queried Jabez. - -Maud coloured to the roots of her sandy hair. "I have fallen into the -habit of calling my friend Mr. Tait my uncle. And, indeed, until the -other day I almost thought that he was my uncle until I knew the -truth. But as I was saying, Mr. Jabez, my uncle--for I still call Mr. -Tait so--placed a magnificent tombstone over her remains when he grew -rich. That is my story." - -"A very interesting one," said Jabez politely. "Then I take it that -you are the young lady entitled to fifty thousand pounds." - -"I am. I understood that when I came and presented that cross," Maud -pointed to the ornament on the table, "that the money would be given -to me." - -"You certainly said as much to me, Jabez," chimed in Hale anxiously. - -"Quite right. The cross," Jabez waved his hand, "was only a little -attempt of mine to introduce romance into the dry details of the law. -Of course it is a means of identification, but it will be necessary -for Miss Ellis to produce her certificate of birth, her baptismal -certificate and----" - -Hale bit his finger with vexation. "I anticipated that objection," he -interrupted in hard tones, "and I knew you would make it." - -"In the interest of Mrs. Walker I must make it." - -"Yes! yes. But the fact is, that only Mrs. Tait, besides the mother, -knew where the certificate of birth and that of baptism were to be -found. They are both dead, as you have heard, so----" - -"So," ended Jabez rising to stand before the fireplace, "so there will -be no chance of this young lady getting the money." - -"Don't you believe my story?" demanded Maud angrily. - -"Oh yes. One has only to look into your face, my dear madam, to -be certain that you speak as you believe. But the law is not so -tender-hearted as I am. The law requires proofs." - -"The amethyst cross----" - -"Is one proof, but others are required. Then, you see, the cross was -stolen and has not been in your possession all these years. It is not -a very strong proof of your identity." - -"I can make an affidavit," said Hale sharply, "swearing that the -mother me told where the child was to be found." - -"Quite so, and doubtless Mr. Tait--then in the Bloomsbury -lodging-house kept by his wife--can make another affidavit showing how -the mother left the child in his wife's charge." - -"Of course," assented Hale readily. "Tait will do anything I ask him." - -"And my uncle," said Maud, "for I must call him uncle, will only be -too glad to see me come into my kingdom." - -"Oh, I am certain of that," said Jabez, trimming his nails rapidly -with a little knife, "and to show your gratitude, you will doubtless -divide the money with him." - -"Oh no. My uncle is too rich to need help," said Maud virtuously. - -Jabez shut the knife and restored it to his pocket. "So he made enough -by the double deal of the jewels and the insurance fraud to tide over -the financial crisis which threatened him," he said deliberately. - -Maud turned pale and uttered an exclamation. "I don't understand." - -"Do you, Mr. Hale?" asked Jabez. - -"No," said the man coldly, "I know nothing of Tait's business." - -"Rubbish! rubbish! See here, Hale, and you, young woman, before you -came here to try your games on me, you should have made certain that I -knew nothing of your doings. As it is, from Mrs. Walker, from her son, -and from various other people, I know all that has taken place in -connection with that cross from the time Miss Lesbia Hale gave it to -her lover, and----" - -"You insult Miss Morse," interrupted Hale furiously. - -"Miss Maud Ellis you mean," sneered the lawyer, "and--no you don't," -he stretched out his long arm, and snatched the cross away, before -Hale could lay a finger on it. "That belongs to Mrs. Walker's niece." - -"I am Mrs. Walker's niece," panted Maud, standing up with a red and -furious face. Since Jabez appeared to know so much, she saw very well -that the plotting of herself and Hale had come to an untimely end. -Nevertheless, like a woman, she persisted in fighting, even when the -game had been irretrievably lost. "She will acknowledge me." - -The lawyer slipped the case containing the cross into the pocket of -his coat and faced round. "If Mrs. Walker will acknowledge you as her -niece," he declared, "I will give you the money." - -"What's the use of talking in this way?" cried Hale angrily. "You know -well enough that Mrs. Walker wants the money for herself. She will -certainly not help this poor girl to gain her rights." - -"Girl," echoed Jabez cruelly, and with his eyes on Maud's plain face, -which showed elderly lines. "I am no judge of a lady's age, but----" - -"Brute! brute," cried Miss Ellis, making for the door. "Hale, come -away, I am not going to stand here and be insulted." - -"I am coming," said Hale sullenly: then turning to the lawyer: "as to -these veiled accusations you bring against me----" - -"Oh, you want me to speak clearer. Very well, then. You, Mr. Hale, and -you, Miss Maud Ellis, belong to a gang of clever thieves. The police -have been trying to break up the gang for years: but hitherto have not -succeeded. Now they will lay hands on one and all." - -"Oh!" gasped Maud, trembling. "What nonsense you talk." - -"The police do not think so. You and Hale had better make yourselves -scarce, for one of your gang has given the rest away." - -"Canning, blast him!" shouted Hale fiercely. - -"Ah!" Jabez turned on him, "you admit then that I speak the truth." - -"I admit nothing," muttered Hale, wiping his face. - -"As you please," Jabez moved towards the door leading into the inner -room where Lord Charvington and George were concealed, "but Canning is -now in communication with the police. I learned yesterday that he knew -all. I got his address from young Walker, and have seen him. To save -his own skin he will turn king's evidence and you and Miss Ellis -there, and her dear uncle and Sargent, and a few others, including -Mrs. Petty, will be----" - -"Damn you," cried Hale, while Maud stood trembling at the outer door, -which she had not strength enough to open, "I'll kill you." - -With outstretched hand he lunged forward to grip the lawyer. Jabez on -the watch dexterously slipped aside and flung open the door. Hale -unable to restrain his impetus plunged right through the entrance into -the strong arms of George Walker. That young gentleman picked him up -like a feather and carrying him into the outer room, flung him into -Jabez's chair. Maud uttered a cry of alarm. She did not know Lord -Charvington: but she knew George, and guessed that he had overheard -the whole wicked plot. Overcome with shame she tore blindly at the -door, opened it hurriedly and fled away, pulling down her veil to hide -her shameful face. She could not meet the eye of the man, whom she had -wronged so deeply, because she loved him too well. - -None of the three men followed her, as their attention was taken up -with Hale. Over him stood George, righteously indignant. "You -confounded blackguard," cried George between his teeth, "if you were -not Lesbia's father I would murder you." - -"Set your mind at rest on that point, George," said Lord Charvington, -who was strangely white, "I am Lesbia's father." - -"You!" George recoiled, dazed and startled. "Katherine Morse was my -first wife and I am Lesbia's father." - -"Now," said George to Hale, "I can choke the wicked life out of you." - -But Charvington stopped him. "Leave him to God." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV -ANOTHER PART OF THE TRUTH - -A day or so after the scene in the Lincoln's Inn Fields office, a -party of those interested in the circumstances connected with the -amethyst cross assembled in the library of The Court. George was -present with Lesbia by his side--Lesbia, still ignorant of her true -parentage. Mrs. Walker, looking less grim than usual, had a seat near -Mr. Jabez, who had come down to hear Lord Charvington's story and to -witness the righting of the wrong which had been done to Lesbia. But -two people who should have been on the spot were absent--Walter Hale -and Lady Charvington. - -On returning from London, where he had admitted the truth, Charvington -had interviewed his wife. What took place between them was never -known, for out of shame for the lady's behaviour Charvington said as -little as he could, when explaining fully. But his wife must have been -dissatisfied with the conversation, for she left The Court and -returned to London. In spite of what her husband said, she absolutely -refused to be present at the rehabilitation of Lesbia, and it must be -confessed that Charvington felt relieved. He knew his wife's fiery -temper and vindictive nature well, and therefore dreaded lest she -should make a scene. Besides he was manifestly in the wrong, and when -given an inch Lady Charvington immediately took an ell with all the -zest of an ungenerous woman. Mrs. Walker having been the lady's -schoolfellow had something to say on the subject: but she reserved her -remarks until she heard Charvington's story. She, for one, was not -astonished at Lady Charvington's failure to put in an appearance at -the conference. She had never credited her with a kindly heart willing -to forgive and forget. And time proved that her estimate was right. - -As to Hale, the interview in Jabez's office had more or less done away -with the necessity for his presence. - -He admitted the truth of Charvington's statement to Jabez, and after -confessing the whole of his wicked plots to gain possession of Mrs. -Walker's money--or rather the money which now belonged to Lesbia as -her mother's heiress,--he had been permitted to depart. This he did, -knowing that the police were on his track, and that unless he could -get out of the country he would be in danger of arrest. And if he were -arrested he knew well enough that he would suffer a long term of -imprisonment. Destiny, as Mrs. Walker had remarked, had been very kind -to him, but the hour had arrived when she demanded the return of all -the good fortune which she had lent. And Hale lurked in byways, -trembling for the payment of the bill which the police--as Destiny's -agents--were trying to present. He did his best to give the police no -chance of presenting it, and longed--like David--for the wings of a -dove that he might fly away and be at rest. - -But enough people were present to give Charvington an opportunity of -confessing his weakness and folly and, to be plain, cowardice, or, to -be generous, want of courage. Only George and Jabez knew what he was -about to say, as they already had heard the confession in the office. -But Mrs. Walker and Lesbia were ignorant, and although they guessed -that they had been brought there to hear how things could be righted, -they little suspected the way in which this would be accomplished. - -Lord Charvington glanced round at the attentive faces, and then -abruptly plunged into the middle of his his story. It was not an easy -one for him to tell, and only sincere repentance made him bold enough -to open his mouth. "I have to right a great wrong," he said with -considerable emotion, "a wrong done to you, Lesbia." - -"To me!" The girl looked surprised and clutched George's hand tighter. - -"Yes! Listen. For you to understand I must go back over twenty years. -You remember that time, Judith?" - -"Yes," said Mrs. Walker quietly, "but you should go back nearly thirty -years, Philip. George is now five-and-twenty and I married his father -some seven years previous to the time you speak of." - -"I begin some twenty-three years ago," said Charvington, after a -pause, "as it was then that I married your sister Katherine. Lesbia," -he turned to the girl, "you are now twenty I believe?" - -"Yes, but what have I to do with----" - -"You have everything to do with it," interrupted Charvington, "for I -am your father, Lesbia--your guilty, cowardly, cruel father." - -"What!" Mrs. Walker rose slowly with a pale face and indignant eyes, -"do you mean to say that this girl is my sister's child?" - -"Yes, and as such inherits the money." - -"I don't want it," said Lesbia, who was as pale as a wintry moon, for -she could scarcely grasp the significance of her father's statement. - -Mrs. Walker waved the objection aside. "I don't mind about the money," -she said harshly, "and if George marries Lesbia the money is well -bestowed. But to think that you, Philip, should know the truth and -conceal it. I always thought that you were more sinned against than -sinning, Philip, as Hale was your evil genius. But if you knew that -Lesbia was your daughter why did you permit her to call that wretch -father?' - -"I am about to explain," said Charvington, trying to speak quietly, -"and I remember the time, Judith, when you would not have called Hale -a wretch." - -"I remember it also," said Mrs. Walker, sitting down, "a time when I -loved the man. But you know, Philip, how he deceived me and left me -and threw me into the arms of George's father. I can neither forgive -nor forget the cruelty with which he treated me. And you allowed your -own child--my poor Kate's daughter--to call him father. How could you? -how could you?" - -"I was wrong, Judith----" - -"Wrong," she repeated strongly, "you were wicked and cruel. What -induced you to arrange matters so? Why was not Lesbia given into my -charge? I was her aunt; I had the right to look after her. But I -expect you and Mr. Jabez made up the matter between you and----" - -"Pardon me," said the lawyer politely, "but I knew nothing for ever so -long, and if I had known, I should have given the money which I held -in trust to Miss Lesbia Hale." - -"Is my name Lesbia Hale?" asked the girl, who looked pale and scared. - -"Yes," said her father, "Hale is my family name. You are Lesbia Hale, -as your half-sisters are Agatha and Lena Hale." - -"My half-sisters?" muttered Lesbia bewildered. - -"Of course. Your mother was my first wife, and you are her child; -Helen Harrowby is my second wife, the mother of Agatha and Lena." - -"Helen Harrowby," said Mrs. Walker with scorn. "Oh, I know her well, -better than you know her, Charvington, or you would never have married -her." - -"Heaven knows that I have learned to know her," said the man bitterly, -"but allow me to explain myself, and----" - -"One moment," put in Jabez, "I wish to explain on my part to Mrs. -Walker, that I knew nothing of the truth for years. It was only when -you, madam," he addressed himself directly to Mrs. Walker, "told me -of the theft of the amethyst cross, and how your son had obtained it -from Miss Hale, that I got an idea. I fancied--on account of the -cross--that Miss Hale might be your sister's child, but Hale swore, if -you remember, that there was no child." - -"Yes," said George caustically, "and then tried to pass off Maud Ellis -as the child so as to get the money." - -"That plot was doomed to fail from the first," said Jabez waving his -hand, "as by then, I knew too much. I did not like to declare my -belief that Miss Hale was the missing child, until I had further -proof. In one way and another the proofs came to hand. When Lord -Charvington appeared in my office at my request, immediately before -Hale called with Miss Ellis, I was then pretty well convinced that he -was Miss Hale's father. I was right." - -"But you knew for years that he had been my sister's husband," said -Mrs. Walker, "and knowing that, you should have asked him about the -child." - -"You knew also. Why did not _you_ ask?" - -"Because from Kate's letter to me saying that the child was -dangerously ill, I believed that it had died." - -"You told me that," said Jabez, "and I thought so also. Perhaps I have -been blind and have not done justice to my legal training. However, -the case is a very peculiar one. Let us hear what Lord Charvington has -to say, and then, if necessary, I can exonerate myself further." - -Mrs. Walker moved her chair and caught Lesbia's disengaged hand. "I am -quite ready," she said calmly, "and before Charvington speaks, I must -thank him for giving me back Kate's child." - -Lesbia was too overcome to speak coherently, but muttering something -unintelligible, she sat between mother and son, her aunt and her -cousin, allowing them to hold her hands, and feeling, poor child, that -at last she had someone to love her, and cherish her, and take care of -her. Lord Charvington cast a longing glance at the trio. He would have -liked to take Lesbia in his arms, but it was part of his punishment to -see her cling to others, while he detailed the folly that had led to -his isolation. - -"When I was young," he said in a steady voice, and speaking slowly, -"there were two people between myself and the title I hold. I was then -merely Philip Hale." - -"The Honourable Philip Hale," said Mrs. Walker promptly. - -"No," he contradicted, "no, Judith, my father was only a younger son. -I had no title whatsoever until the death of my cousins by drowning -placed me here as head of the family. And I had no expectation then of -becoming rich and titled. I was simply a briefless barrister." - -"And Walter's closest companion," muttered Mrs. Walker. - -"Yes. But Walter was not so wicked in those days as he has since -proved to be." - -"He was always wicked," snapped the woman, "he was your evil genius." - -Charvington passed his hand through his white hair. "I fear he was. -However, we can talk of that later. Walter and I were the best of -friends, and it was Walter who introduced me to Mr. Samuel Morse, a -City merchant. He had two daughters. Judith----" - -"That was me," murmured Mrs. Walker, "and the other daughter was my -sister Kate. You loved Kate, and I thought that Walter loved me." - -"Walter behaved very badly," said Charvington promptly. "He was poor -while pretending to be rich, and so, when your father, not approving -of his scampish ways, learned that you loved him, Judith, he -threatened to disinherit you." - -"Quite so, and learning that, Walter threw me over. Later, I married -George's father, who was quite as scampish, but kind-hearted and -honourable." - -"Yes!" Charvington nodded, "I always wondered why Mr. Morse permitted -that marriage as he knew that Walker was quite as wild as Hale." - -"But he knew also that Aylmer was honourable, which Walter never was. -Let that pass, I was jilted by Walter and married Aylmer. I lost my -money and my husband, and was left with George to live on nothing. -That's my story, I want to hear yours." - -"You know most of it," said Lord Charvington, now speaking rapidly as -though anxious to end a disagreeable task. "I loved Kate; she was the -only woman I ever loved, but your father, thinking me as dissipated as -Walter, refused to permit the match. Kate eloped with me, and your -father would have altered his will but that he died before he could -send for his lawyer." - -"And that was me," said Jabez, "however, the will was very fair. You, -Mrs. Walker, got your fifty thousand when you married your husband, -and he soon got rid of it. The other fifty thousand pounds belonged to -Kate, but she never appeared to get it. Why not?" he asked -Charvington. - -"Walter Hale again," said that gentleman quickly. "Kate and I were -married and went on the Continent. I was poor and we lived quietly, -hoping that some day Mr. Morse would relent. Then we heard that he had -died. Walter undertook to find out about the will, and told us that -Kate inherited nothing, that all had been left to you, Judith." - -"And you believed him," said Jabez. "Why didn't you communicate with -me?" - -"I had no reason then to doubt Walter," said Charvington stiffly. - -"Augh," groaned Mrs. Walker softly, "you were always an honourable -fool." - -"I was, in believing Walter," said Charvington, "and not until lately -have I learned how I was deceived. Walter was always plausible and -clever. Besides, I kept the fact of my marriage secret from my father -lest he should disinherit me. Walter made capital out of that also. -Then there was Helen----" - -"Helen," cried Mrs. Walker, rising, much agitated. "She always hated -me and hated Kate because Kate was pretty and you loved her. Helen and -Walter caused all the trouble." - -"I know that now; I did not know it then," said Charvington sadly. "I -was always foolish as you remarked just now. I was living in Paris -with my wife. Lesbia was a baby then. We met Helen, who pretended to -be our friend." - -"A friend such as Walter was," muttered Mrs. Walker. - -"I fear so, but let us say nothing since Helen is now my wife." - -"You let her off too easily." - -"She is now my wife," said Charvington determinedly, "so that puts an -end to all discussion. Besides, Walter was to blame, as my wife -informed me in a conversation we had when she refused to be present at -this meeting. He worked on Kate's feelings and made her believe that I -was in love with Helen. I was wrong also, for then I went about much -with Helen, while my wife was ill, so that in the end Kate grew -jealous." - -"You treated her worse than I thought," said Mrs. Walker darkly. - -Charvington threw out his hands. "I never was a hero," he said -entreatingly, "but surely I have suffered for my weakness--the -weakness of a pleasure-loving man. I was wrong; I here admit publicly -that I was wrong. Surely you will believe that my repentance is -sincere." - -Mrs. Walker looked at his drawn face and admitted that it was. After -all, few men would have had the courage to stand up and speak as -Charvington was now speaking--to lay bare the secrets of their -weakness and strive, even at the eleventh hour, to make amends. -Charvington had sinned through weakness; he confessed through strength -gained from the lessons of a hard life, hard in spite of his outward -show of prosperity. "I forgive you," said Mrs. Walker in softer tones, -"go on." - -"I come to the cruellest part," said Charvington in a thick voice. -"Kate was so jealous that she fled with the child. I searched for her -but could not find her. It was in winter. Then Walter sent for me. I -came to England and he told me that Kate had come to him weak and ill -and almost starving. She had sold what jewels she possessed to feed -herself and her child, and only retained the amethyst cross which her -father had given her. Then she went to Walter at Wimbledon, and there -died in the arms of Bridget Burke." - -"Was Mr. Hale married then?" asked George anxiously. - -"No. He never married in his life. But when I arrived my wife was -buried and had left the child to the care of Bridget, and also had -given her the cross saying it was to be handed to Lesbia when she grew -up." - -"Bridget gave it to me on her death-bed," sighed Lesbia, who wept -bitterly. - -"Yes, I learned that," said Charvington with a heavy sigh. "But to go -back to my story. I repented deeply of the way in which I had behaved. -I meant no harm, and would have explained to my wife had she not left -me secretly. I never had an opportunity of explaining. Kate simply -disappeared and died. Owing to my conduct I did not dare to go near -you, Judith, or I might have placed the child in your care. As it was -Hale proposed that Lesbia should be nursed by Bridget and that I -should allow him money. I agreed to this, as at the time it seemed the -best way out of the difficulty. Then my cousins were lost at sea in -their yacht. I came in for a large income and for the title. My -relatives urged me to marry again. Chance threw me once more into -Helen's company----" - -"Chance!" snorted Mrs. Walker. "Chance! I know the minx." - -Charvington passed over this remark. "I married Helen and took up the -station I now hold. I arranged to allow Walter an annuity if he looked -after Lesbia. He did so, and gradually she began to look on him as her -father." - -"And you permitted that--you permitted that," cried Mrs. Walker -furiously. - -"Yes," said Charvington with an effort. "Weakness again. My wife knew -the truth and I did not dare to bring my child into the house. I -provided that Lesbia should have a good education, and saw that she -had everything she desired. Walter was kind to her in his own way. -Gradually I came to accept the situation. Then the cross passed into -Walker's possession, and--" he threw out his hand--"you know the rest." - -George nodded. "But how did Lady Charvington learn the truth, and why -did she want the cross?" - -Charvington sighed again and hung his head. "I do not wish to speak -ill of my wife," he said in a low voice; "but in justice to Lesbia I -must be frank. Hale learned about the money waiting for Lesbia, and -knew that it could be obtained if the cross was shown to you, Jabez, -But Hale could not find the cross." - -"I know why," said Lesbia quickly, "Bridget kept it secretly -beside her, as my mother thought that Mr. Hale."--she did not say -father--"might take it away. My mother told Bridget that the cross -would prove that I was her child should any money be waiting for her. -Bridget gave the cross to me and made me promise to say nothing to Mr. -Hale, but to give it to the man I loved. While I was giving it to -George, Mr. Hale came and then----" - -"Then," said Lord Charvington, "he went to Cookham and told Sargent -that you, Walker, had the cross. My wife had already learned through -Sargent, who obtained the information from Hale, that if Lesbia -produced the cross she would inherit a fortune. Then--she--" he -hesitated. - -Mrs. Walker took up the explanation. "I can see it all," she said -scornfully, "Helen hated Kate so that she was determined that Lesbia -should not get the money and hired Sargent to get the cross. He did -through his brother. We know all about that. But did Helen know that -Sargent was a thief?" - -"No," said Charvington sharply. "Helen is not altogether bad. She did -not know of that, nor did she ever suspect that Walter was such a -rascal. I was amazed myself when I heard the truth. I only learned it -during the last few weeks. But you can see how the cross came into my -wife's possession." - -"Yes," said George, "but why did she tell the lie about its being in -the library?" - -"To conceal the fact of how she came to get it, as she knew perfectly -well that Sargent had obtained it in some underhand way. She guessed -that if she swore I had given her the cross, that no inquiry would be -made and, of course," he added apologetically, "as my wife, I should -have been obliged to support her." - -"Philip," cried Mrs. Walker, rising, "you are as weak as ever." - -"No," denied the man, "I am strong. Things being as they are, I must -make the best of them. Helen is my wife, and to save the honour of my -name all that I have told you must be kept silent." - -Mrs. Walker shrugged her stately shoulders. "I shall say nothing," she -observed, "neither will anyone else. As to Walter, he can be left to -the punishment of the law. But I am certain," she added, with -emphasis, "that as he knows everything, he will speak if only out of -revenge." - -Charvington winced. "As I have sown, so must I reap," he murmured. -"Let us hope that out of shame Walter will be silent and not add to my -burden, which is already sufficiently heavy. If I have sinned through -weakness, I have repented and I have been punished." - -Mrs. Walker offered her hand. "You shall not be punished further by -me," she said generously, "you were always good and kind, Philip, but -very weak. I held my tongue about you, and I shall hold it still. As -to Walter----" - -"Oh," said Jabez, rising, "I daresay I shall find some means to square -him. In the interests of all parties, it will be best to give him a -sum of money and assist him to escape. Once abroad he will say -nothing, besides which he will not dare to venture back to England. -You forget, Lord Charvington, that although he has a hold on you by -knowing so much, you have a hold on him by what you know. Now if -I----" - -"Do what you think best," said Charvington, whose hungry, bloodshot -eyes were fixed on Lesbia, "I give you full permission. But my -child--" he held out his arms to Lesbia, who rose pale and -trembling--"will you not forgive me?" said the man in a thick voice. -"I have done you wrong, but I have suffered and I will make amends and -I--I----" - -Lesbia ran forward and threw her arms round his neck. "I forgive you," -she whispered, "and I will learn to love you, and--and--father!" - -Her voice rose in a scream. Unable to bear the joy of this -forgiveness, a long-threatened attack of apoplexy seized on the man's -weakened frame. He tried to speak, choked, grew purple in the face and -fell full length on the floor from the arms of the daughter he had not -acknowledged for so many years. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV -REVENGE - -A week later and George was seated beside Lesbia on the well-known -bench under the famous chestnut tree. Lord Charvington had recovered -from his apoplectic fit, and was now progressing favourably. For two -or three days Lesbia and Mrs. Walker had nursed him; but when Lady -Charvington heard of her husband's illness she came down to The Court -at once. A furious passage of arms took place between her and Mrs. -Walker, which resulted in the defeat of the latter lady. Her enemy, -being Charvington's wife and mistress of the house, had the power to -send away those whom she regarded as interlopers, and she exercised -this power forthwith. Lesbia departed under the wing of Mrs. Walker, -and Charvington was too ill to prevent his wife from behaving in this -despotic manner. - -Mrs. Walker desired the girl to come to Medmenham, there to remain -until such time as she could be married. But Lesbia, thinking of Tim, -insisted on returning to Rose Cottage. Jabez allowed her sufficient -money to live on, pending his handing over to her the invested fifty -thousand pounds, so there was no difficulty on the score of money. -Then it was unlikely that Hale would come back to see Lesbia, now that -she knew the truth; and under the charge of the devoted Tim, she could -remain quietly until George found occasion to make her his wife. - -But there was another reason why Hale could not come. He was in -hiding, for the information given to the police by Canning--forced, in -order to save himself, to turn king's evidence--had resulted in the -arrest of Tait and Mrs. Petty and several members of the infamous -gang, whose names Canning had supplied. But Hale had managed to -escape, likewise Captain Sargent, who had been warned by Maud. That -clever young lady, having seen at Jabez's office that the game was up, -did what she could to put the rest of the gang on the alert and then -vanished like a bubble. Things were in this position when George sat -hand in hand with Lesbia under the chestnut tree, discussing the -future. - -"I saw Lord Charvington yesterday," explained the young man, "and he -is now rapidly getting better. He proposes that we shall get married -next month and accompany him to the south of France. He has a villa -there which he will place at our disposal." - -"And Lady Charvington?" asked Lesbia timidly. - -"Your stepmother," said Walker, smiling. - -"No," said Lesbia shuddering, "don't call her that." - -"Why not? She has behaved exactly as a stepmother does--in fiction." - -Lesbia shook her head. "I think of her merely as Lady Charvington--a -stranger, and when we are married I shall never set eyes on her -again." - -"I don't think she wants to see you," said George drily. "She is still -vindictive. It seems that she always loved your father and can never -forgive your dead mother for having married him. Thus she visits her -anger upon you, my dear. However, what she does or what she says -matters little. And for her own sake she will say as little as -possible." - -"She is a strange woman," sighed Lesbia, "and very unhappy." - -"Don't make any mistake, my dear. Lady Charvington is too hard-hearted -to be unhappy. So long as she has her rank and her title and her -crowds of adorers, she cares for no one. Whatever love she may have -had for your father she has long since given entirely to herself." - -"Do Agatha and Lena know that I am their half-sister?" - -"No. I was talking about that yesterday to Lord Charvington. As you -know he has not been able to do anything because of his illness, but -he is only waiting to get on his feet again to put matters straight." - -"In what way?" asked the girl anxiously. - -"Well, you are his daughter, my dear, and he desires to acknowledge -you as such in the most public manner." - -"No," said Lesbia firmly and sadly, "that would be useless and would -do no good. Such an acknowledgment would only lead to a lot of -questions being asked by my father's friends, and then the whole -unhappy business would be raked up. I don't want my miserable story to -be published in the papers, especially as Mr. Hale's name is so -notorious. Let me marry you quietly, my dear, and then we can go away -to France with my father for a few months. I have you, I have the -money left to me by my mother, and I have found my real father--the -rest matters very little." - -George kissed her. "You wise little darling," he said admiringly, -"I think your decision is exactly what I should expect from your -commonsense way of looking at things. I agree with you, that it is -best to let sleeping dogs lie, and not to stir up muddy water, and not -to--to--what other proverb shall I use, Lesbia?" - -"'Let the dead past bury its dead,'" she replied, seriously. "We have -had much trouble, and we have been parted. Now the troubles appear to -have come to an end and we are together. Let us marry and enjoy our -good fortune and be happy in our own small way." - -"Amen! amen! amen!" said George, laughing, "and indeed I think we -deserve the good fortune for we did not refuse to bear the cross." - -"And so have gained the crown of perfect love," said Lesbia -contentedly as she nestled in her lover's arms. - -The garden was still brilliant with many-hued roses, and the river -murmured a joyous song as it flowed tranquilly under the deeply blue -summer sky. But the blackbird and his mate had gone away with their -brood and the nest was deserted. Still other birds remained and other -birds were singing lustily of summer joys. Basking in the warm -sunshine, contented with each other's company, George and Lesbia -passed into that hour of silence, which speaks of love so deep that no -speech is needed. They listened to the birds, to the river, to the -whispering of the breeze, and dreamed of a future that would always be -happy. They were together, they understood each other, so nothing else -mattered. - -But their golden hour was disturbed by Tim, who hobbled down the -pathway with a distressed look on his ugly, kind face. The two -expected him, so the arrival was not an intrusion. For several days -Lesbia had insisted that Tim should explain how much he had known of -the many disgraceful things lately found out. Hitherto Tim had evaded -an explanation, but on that morning he had gravely promised to tell -what he knew. Therefore, when he halted before the dreaming couple, -George roused himself. - -"Here is Tim, my darling," he said with a laugh, "put him in the -witness-box." - -"Ye might say the confessional, Masther Garge," replied Tim, squatting -on the dry grass and looking like a good-tempered gnome. "What is it -ye want to know, me darlin' heart?" - -"About my father--that is about Mr. Hale," said Lesbia, who had been -addressed. - -"The bands av death on him," muttered Tim, using an ancient Irish -oath. "Sure I knew he wasn't any kith or kin av yours, Miss, though by -the same token I niver rightly knew as his lardship was yer father." - -"Tim," said his young mistress severely, "you told Mrs. Walker in my -presence that there was no child with the poor lady who died at -Wimbledon." - -"Is ut yer mother ye talk av, Miss?" asked Tim innocently. "Sure ut -was lyin' I wor, an' if I hadn't lied, that divil--ut's the masther I -mane--wud have brought throuble on ye." - -"In what way, Tim?" asked George, looking puzzled. - -"Augh, nivir ask me, sor. But wasn't I always listenin' and pokin' an' -pryin' when that divil--ut's the masther I mane--had thim dirthy -tatterdemalions here? Thaves they wor, an' spies, an' racavers av -stolen goods, bad luck to thim! The masther caught me wan night an' -larned as I knew av the divilments he wor indulgin' in. An' ses he, -'Tim,' ses he, if ye breathe wan wurrd I go to gaol, an' by the same -token I'll see that Miss Lesbia goes wid me. Well ye know,' ses he, -'as she lies whin callin' me her father, but if ye tell her I am not,' -ses he, 'it manes gaol fur us both.' Augh!" Tim rocked in much -distress, "an' what cud I do, Miss dear, me not knowin' the true -father av ye." - -"And if you had known, Tim?" asked Lesbia anxiously. - -"If I'd known as his lardship wor yer father," said Tim emphatically, -"I wud have gone on me bare shinbones to ask him to take ye out av -this divil's house. But me masther--bad luck to him!--lied like the -father av lies, as he'll some day go to, an' being in the dark as it -wor, I didn't dare to let a mouse's squeak av what I knew come to yer -purty ears, Miss." - -"But you hinted that the cross would bring trouble, Tim." - -"I did that, Miss. Sure, whin the mother that bore ye died in the -arrums av me own mother she guv the crass, 'an',' ses she, wid her -last gasp, 'let me choild have it, whin she grows up to prove as she's -me lawful choild. An' if there's money comin',' ses she, 'though be the -same token, me sister has got it all, the crass may git it fur the -choild. But nivir let her see her father,' ses she, 'for a bad man he's -bin to me.'" - -"Not altogether bad, Tim," said Lesbia gently, "my mother was -deceived. Did she tell Bridget my father's name?" - -"No, Miss," said Tim promptly, "had she towld, I'd have larned it whin -me own mother died, and thin I'd have asked his lardship to take ye -from this divil--ut's the masther I mane. But me mother sid nothin' -for she knew nothin', save what she towld ye about the crass. 'And,' -ses me mother to me whin she guv ye the crass, there'll be throuble -over yon crass,' ses she, 'fur th' Sight's on me being near me latter -end,' ses she. 'Throuble there'll be over the crass, an' sorrow an' -tears an' sudden death. But thim who love will win clear and thim as -is bad will come to the black grave.'" - -"There has been trouble certainly, Tim," said Lesbia sighing, "and the -cross both began it and ended it, as your mother declared it would. -But now, thank God," she turned to place her arms round George's neck, -"it's all over and we shall have no more. Your mother prophesied -rightly, Tim, save that there has been no sudden death or black grave, -and there isn't likely to be." - -Tim rocked and shook his huge head. "Thim as is goin' to their long -rest sees things as thim aloive can't get a squint at. Me mother -foresaw th' sorrow an' tears av th' crass an' the joy which ye an' -Masther Garge there have now, good luck to both ay ye! So the sudden -death an' the black grave will come I doubt not. But here, me dears," -said Tim, after a pause, "there's wan thing ye don't know as I'll tell -ye." - -"And what is that?" asked George, smiling. - -"'Twas me, Masther Garge, as carried ye from the river bank to the -room in yonder," Tim nodded towards the cottage. "I wor out fishin' an' -I saw ye in the moonlight lying on the path, though be me sowl I nivir -dreamed 'twas you. I rowed ashore an' found ye stunned an' bound, bad -luck to the divil who did ut! I tuke ye into the cottage and called -softly to the young misthress there. She thought 'twas a drame an' -come down to see to you. An' now ye know, both av ye." - -Lesbia and George looked at one another in astonishment. "Why didn't -you tell us this before?" asked Walker sharply. "And why did you bring -me to the cottage?" - -"Sure now," said Tim in injured tones, "didn't I think as 'twas the -masther had been up to some divilment, and didn't dare spake in case -he'd get Miss Lesbia clapped into gaol 'longside him? But I knew as -the masther wud nivir dare to harrum ye in his own house wid Miss -Lesbia by the side av ye, an' so I brought ye here into his very jaws -as it wor. An' wasn't I right, me dear sor?" - -"Yes," assented Walker promptly, "I think you were. It was very clever -of you to have protected me in that way, even though it was Canning -and not Hale who assaulted me. Well, Lesbia," he turned to the girl, -"here is another thing made clear. Quite a surprise." - -"I hope it is the last surprise," said the girl, wearily, "I am very -tired of being surprised." - -"In that case," said a smooth voice at her elbow, "you will be tired at -seeing me." - -Lesbia started to her feet with a cry, and George with an exclamation -of astonishment. As to Tim, he scrambled to his feet with an oath. -"Augh, murther! murther!" cried the Irishman, "it's the black divil -his own silf." - -"That's complimentary," said Hale, who was standing calm and composed -near the lovers. "You were so busily engaged talking, Lesbia, that you -did not hear me come down the path." - -"How dare you come here?" said the girl indignantly. - -"It's my own house. I had the key," retorted Hale coolly. "I opened -the front door and entered. Finding no one within I came here and find -that Tim is giving me away. But I am not so black as I am painted." - -"You are much worse, I daresay," said George bluntly. - -"Oh, you're there, you lucky young man," said Hale, raising his -eyebrows. "I congratulate you on marrying Lesbia and on getting the -money." - -"In spite of all your plotting," said Walker sharply. - -Hale sat down on the bench with a sudden look of fatigue. He was cool -and smiling and bore himself both shamelessly and dauntlessly. But it -was apparent that he behaved thus out of bravado. In spite of his -boldness, and of the fact that he was dressed as carefully as ever, he -was thoroughly ill and had his back to the wall. - -"You had better leave this place," said Lesbia, to her lover, "the -police are hunting for you." - -"Someone else is hunting for me," said Hale gloomily, "Maud Ellis is -on my track swearing vengeance." - -"Why should she?" - -"Because to get the money and induce her to play her part, I promised -to marry her. I have no intention of doing so. Then again, for my own -safety, I have sent a communication to the police offering to tell all -I know about Tait and his gang on condition that I am let off. Maud, -confound her, has found this out, and swears to have my life." - -"She would scarcely go so far as that," said George scornfully. - -"Oh, I think so," said Hale quietly, "she can't show herself, as she -is in danger from the police also, and so will revenge herself as she -best can. I don't think there's much she would stick at. I caught -sight of her on the London platform as I came down this morning, so I -expect she will follow me to this house. There will be trouble unless -you can aid me to get away." - -"How can we compound a felony?" asked George, frowning. - -"It is better than to see a tragedy," retorted Hale. "I am not afraid -of Maud unless she takes me by surprise; but that is just what she -will do. I am not your father, Lesbia, as you know now, and perhaps I -have not been kind in my treatment. All the same I ask you to exercise -that kind nature which you always declared you possessed, and give me -fifty pounds to get abroad with. Once across the Channel I can shift -for myself." - -"I have not got fifty pounds," said Lesbia hesitating. Badly as Hale -had treated her she yet wished to assist him, and truly he was in -great need of the coals of fire which she could heap upon his head. - -"You can soon get it," said Hale eagerly. "Charvington will give you -anything. Send Walker to ask him for the money and I can remain -concealed in the cottage until he returns." - -The lovers looked at one another. Both were inclined to assist the -miserable man, little as he deserved kindness at their hands. Tim, -with a grim face, stood neutral, but being of a less forgiving nature, -would gladly have pitched his old master into the river had Lesbia but -lifted a finger. But she gave no sign, so Tim waited. It was hard to -say what would have happened had not Fate decided the matter. - -The four people in the garden were so deeply engaged in conversation -that they did not observe a boat crossing the river from the opposite -shore, some distance above the garden. Tim, indeed, did catch a -glimpse of a craft holding two people, but did not take much notice. -The boat reached the near shore and then dropped down alongside the -bank until it was directly abreast of the chestnut tree. Then for the -first time, George and Lesbia looked round at the sound of dipping -oars. Hale raised his head and looked also. The next moment there was -the sharp report of a revolver and he rolled off the bench shot -through the breast. Twice again the revolver spoke and twice Hale was -wounded. Maud Ellis was a sure shot. - -"There," cried she, flinging the weapon ashore to Lesbia, "you can -finish him off. He betrayed my uncle, he betrayed me, he betrayed us -all. Only Sargent, who is rowing me, and I have escaped. Good-bye, -Lesbia, you have your lover--my lover--the man I adore. I hope -you'll be happy. I have done justice on that blackguard, so I -am going to clear. You'll never see me again, and you can thank your -stars that I did not kill you as well as that scoundrel there. -George--good-bye--good-bye." - -She sat down quickly in the boat, which was already receding rapidly -from the garden. Sargent apparently had not expected that Maud would -have been so thorough in her vengeance and could be seen talking -angrily to her. He rowed with all his might across the river, let the -boat drift down-stream and leaped ashore. Maud followed alertly and -the two set off running rapidly. Where they went, or how they escaped -George never knew; but that was the last seen of them in England. - -Meanwhile Lesbia was on her knees beside the wretched man who -had done her so much harm, striving to staunch his wounds with her -handkerchief. Tim already had run up the path shouting for the police, -and George was about to follow, as he wanted Maud to be arrested for -her dastardly crime, when Hale opened his eyes. - -"Are you there, Lesbia?" he asked faintly. "It's no use my asking for -your forgiveness, as I hate being a sneak at the last moment. I have -lived bad and I have died bad. But I can say this, that you are the -sole human being I regret having injured. You are a fool, as you have -always been, like your father--but you are a sweet fool. And I--I----" -he choked. - -"Hush! hush!" said Lesbia distractedly. "George, take him into the -house, and fetch the doctor. We must save him----" - -"No," gasped Hale with a flash of energy, "don't save me to let me rot -in gaol. Maud has done me a good turn after all. I die and--and--I -cheat--I cheat the law," he opened his eyes again and stared at the -two pale faces, then smiled. "God bless you," he gasped, "oh, to think -that I should bless----" he laughed, but the effort was too great and -he fell back dead. - -At the same moment Tim came running down with a policeman at his -heels. - -"It's too late, Tim, he is dead," said Lesbia faintly. - -"Dead is ut?" muttered Tim, staring and crossing himself. "Then me -mother wor right in all she said. Sudden death and the black grave. -Augh! Sure 'twas the truth me mother spake afther all." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI -THE END OF IT ALL - - -THE villa owned by Lord Charvington at Nice was beautifully situated, -beautifully furnished, and beautifully built. Endless money had been -spent upon it to make it as perfect as any human habitation could be. -Lady Charvington was particularly fond of it, and her extravagance was -evident both in the house and in the lovely gardens. Great was her -rage when she heard that her husband had invited George and his young -wife and her arch-enemy Mrs. Walker to stay there with him. But she -was even more angry when she learned that Charvington had made a free -gift of the villa to his daughter. - -"His conduct has always been atrocious," said Lady Charvington to -Jabez, who was the sole person to whom she could speak of such things, -since for her own sake she was forced to hold her tongue to the world -at large, "but this is the worst thing he has ever done. How dare he -give my villa to that horrid girl?" - -"He has every right to," said Jabez drily, "as the villa is Lord -Charvington's own property. And I beg leave to state that I do not -consider young Mrs. Walker a horrid girl. She is very sweet, and is -bearing her good fortune as modestly as she bore her bad luck -bravely." - -"I hate her," said Lady Charvington fervently. - -"Why, may I ask?" - -"Because I hated her mother. I always loved Charvington, and she took -him from me." - -"But you got him in the end," Jabez reminded her. - -"Got him. Yes, I got the rags and tatters of the passion he had for -that detestable Kate Morse. I never forgave her while she lived, and I -certainly shall not forgive her now she is dead." - -"Very good; but you needn't hate her daughter," expostulated Jabez -earnestly; "consider how unhappy the poor girl has been, and through -no fault of her own. Even now--in deference to her own wish, I -admit--she is not acknowledged by her father, publicly at least." - -"I don't care," cried Lady Charvington, with all the venom of an angry -woman. "I hate the girl, and I shall always hate her. But I didn't -come here to listen to your views, Mr. Jabez. What I wish to know is -if I can insist that my villa shall be given back to me." - -"No," said Jabez, and very glad he was to be able to reply in the -negative, "the villa was never settled on you, and Lord Charvington -has a perfect right to deal as he pleases with his own property." - -"It is my property, and Charvington's a brute. I wonder that I ever -loved him--indeed I do," cried the lady vehemently, "and to think of -that horrid girl getting the husband she wanted and the fifty thousand -pounds, and my villa, and--oh!" she stamped, "it makes one doubt if -there is a Providence." - -"I fear," said Jabez gravely, as she rose to depart, "that some day, -if you bear such ill-will towards one who has never injured you, that -you will find there _is_ a Providence." - -"Pooh! pooh! That's all goody-goody talk," said Lady Charvington -contemptuously, "but that I have to think of Agatha and Lena I should -get a separation from my husband. As it is, I shall spend as much -money as I can, and enjoy myself in my own way. I don't want to see -him." - -"I fancy you'll see very little of him," said Jabez drily, as he -accompanied her to the door. "Lord Charvington is fond of a quiet -life. All you have to do is to enjoy your position and the ample -income which he allows you, and hold your tongue about these family -troubles." - -"Oh, of course you are on his side," cried Lady Charvington in a rage. -"I really believe that you suggested he should give that nasty girl my -villa." - -"Pardon me," said the solicitor, skilfully dodging the question, "it -never was your villa." - -"It was, and she has stolen it. I only hope she'll be as thoroughly -unhappy as she well can be, with the fool she's married and her -disagreeable mother-in-law. Judith was always horrid." - -"I fear you will be disappointed. Young Mrs. Walker adores her -mother-in-law, and is adored in turn. They are, as you know, all at -the villa with Lord Charvington and, as I gather, perfectly happy." - -"How disgusting," cried Lady Charvington vindictively, "but I shall -wait for the interference of an overruling Providence. Some day the -sins of the lot of them will come home to them, and they will be -thoroughly miserable." - -"And your ladyship's sins?" inquired Jabez very gravely. - -"Sins," she stared, "I have none." After which speech, which -completely silenced the lawyer, so taken aback was he by its amazing -impudence, she took her departure. All the same she also took his -advice and said nothing of what had happened in connection with the -affairs of the amethyst cross. And in time--as she could not keep up a -hostile attitude for ever--she found it politic to smooth over things -with her worried husband. But she never forgave Lesbia to her dying -day. - -Not that Lesbia cared. She was absolutely happy with her husband and -mother-in-law and father at the villa. The income derived from her -mother yielded over two thousand a year, and this had been -supplemented by Lord Charvington, anxious to make amends. What with a -large income and a lovely villa, and a handsome, affectionate husband, -Lesbia was very fortunate indeed, and felt quite glad that she had -gone through so much trouble, to get to such a goal. Something of this -sort she said to her father one evening after dinner. - -The party were seated on the terrace which overlooked the deeply blue -waters of the Mediterranean. At the moment, these were dyed with rosy -hues from the setting sun. Mrs. Walker, looking much less stern and -much more composed, was seated in a deep arm-chair near Lesbia, whom -she could scarcely bear out of her sight. Lord Charvington, now -looking wonderfully hale and hearty--for it was six months since his -attack of apoplexy--sat near a small round table upon which stood -coffee and liqueurs. George lounged about with a cigar, casting looks -of affection on Lesbia. The quartette, arrayed in evening dress amidst -beautiful surroundings, looked thoroughly happy and well-to-do. After -the storm had come the calm, and when recalling the storm, as -sometimes she could not help doing, Lesbia always spoke cheerfully. - -"The trouble was worth going through, to come to this," she said, -smiling in a happy manner. - -"I think so too, dear," observed George, who was always hovering in -her vicinity. "And I think we have learned the lesson which those very -troubles were sent to teach." - -"What lesson?" asked Lord Charvington lazily. - -"To trust in God." - -"Yes," said Mrs. Walker, who was knitting, "you and Lesbia have -learned that, and I have learned a lesson also. I have learned to be -more sympathetic and more liberal-minded. We are all mortal, and no -one has any right to judge another person not knowing that person's -temptations." - -"Do you allude to Walter?" asked Charvington. - -"Yes. He behaved badly, I allow; but then his will was not strong -enough to struggle against the evil that was in him. And after all," -Mrs. Walker laid down her knitting, "he was terribly punished. He was -snatched out of life unprepared. I hope he has found mercy. But the -evil that he did lived after him. Alas! Alas!" - -"I think Tait and his gang found that was so," said George grimly. -"From what was said at the trial, it seemed that Hale was the soul of -the gang, even though Tait posed as the head. Canning, of course, -escaped because he turned king's evidence and is now in Italy; but -Tait got a long sentence." - -"Mrs. Petty and the rest of the gang also," observed Charvington, "but -Maud Ellis and Alfred Sargent escaped." - -"They were very lucky," said George reflectively. "The police, advised -by Tim, were on their track almost at once, but they never caught -them. As they were not disguised I wonder that they ever escaped." - -"Hale was not disguised either, I heard you say," remarked -Charvington. "It seems to me that audacity favoured the lot of them. -Hale would have escaped also, I doubt not, had he not been shot by -that wretched woman." - -"Why do you shudder, George?" asked Mrs. Walker, at this point. - -"I am thinking how easily she could have shot Lesbia," said George -reluctantly. "She had two or three shots left after she polished off -Hale. But she flung the revolver ashore and made a sentimental speech -wishing myself and Lesbia good luck. I should have thought--but -there," George sighed, "no man can understand a woman." - -"No woman can understand a man," said Lesbia, laughing. "But I am glad -Maud did not shoot me. Where is she now?" - -Charvington removed his cigar. "I have reason to believe, from some -facts which came to Jabez's ears, that she has married Alfred Sargent -and is engaged in making trouble in a South American Republic." - -"Sargent is not strong enough to do much," objected George. - -Mrs. Walker shook her head. "I believe Alfred Sargent was a much -cleverer man than his appearance warranted," she said sharply. "He -looked like a fool, but he acted like a wise man. Not only did he -escape, but he managed to carry off his thievish earnings. Then look -how cleverly he behaved in society in never being suspected. Yet he -stole--as we learned at the trial of Tait and the rest--at balls, at -weddings, from private houses, and blackmailed any number of people. A -dangerously clever man, I call him." - -"Well, don't let us talk any more about him," said Charvington -impatiently, "Maud is clever if you like, and probably will end in -imposing him on some second-rate republic, as its President, even -though he is a foreigner. I believe that there is no end to that -woman's ambition. But he and she are both out of our lives. Also Hale -is dead, and as Lesbia has now changed her name, she will not be -connected with the sordid past in any way. Let us talk of something -more agreeable." - -"The amethyst cross for instance," said Lesbia pointedly. - -Charvington wriggled. "Why? That belongs to the disagreeable past." - -"It taught George and me a lesson," said Lesbia seriously, "and I am -sorry that it has been lost sight of." - -"It has not been lost sight of," said Charvington, after a pause. -"Jabez got it from Hale and restored it to me. But I did not show it -to you, Lesbia child, because I thought that the sight of it would be -painful." - -"Not now, that I have learned its lesson. Where is it, father?" - -"Call Tim." - -Lesbia rang a silver bell which was on the table and shortly Tim, -looking more grotesque and more like a gnome than ever, appeared. He -was with the young couple as the majordomo of their small household, -and enjoyed himself hugely. "Tim," ordered Lord Charvington, giving -him a key, "go to my study and open my dispatch box. Bring me the -morocco case you will find in it. A red morocco case." - -"Yes, yer lardship," said the majordomo gravely, as he departed. - -"Are you sure you want the cross, Lesbia?" asked Mrs. Walker -seriously. - -"Yes. Whenever I forget to be kind and thoughtful, whenever I am -inclined to judge others harshly, the cross will remind me of my own -shortcomings." - -"You have none, dear," said George fondly. - -"George," Mrs. Walker smiled, "you are spoiling her." - -"I know someone else who spoils me more," whispered Lesbia roguishly, -and Mrs. Walker smoothed the girl's hair. - -At this moment Tim returned with the case. Lord Charvington opened it -and took out the ornament which glittered in the rosy hues of sunset. - -"Presarve us!" whispered Tim crossing himself. "The unlucky crass!" - -"Lucky now, Tim," said Charvington, slipping a slender watch-chain he -wore from his waistcoat. "It found me my daughter. Here, Lesbia," he -threaded the loop at the top of the cross, "you can wear it now." - -Lesbia bent her head and her father threw the chain on her neck. The -amethyst cross gleamed with purple fire on her white bosom, a symbol -of all that had passed and a symbol also of a brighter future. "I -shall always wear it," said Lesbia with serious lovely eyes. - -"'Refuse and lose,'" said George meditatively, "well we have not -refused the cross although I daresay had it been in our powers to do -so we should have shirked the burden." - -"Thank Heaven you were not allowed to, for the bearing of the burden -has taught you much," said Mrs. Walker devoutly. - -"It has earned me the crown of perfect love," said George, drawing -Lesbia to his breast. - -"And that is worth everything," Lesbia replied, kissing him. - - - - - -THE END - - - - - -COLSTON AND CO. LTD. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - diff --git a/old/56230-8.zip b/old/56230-8.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 59a971d..0000000 --- a/old/56230-8.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/56230-h.zip b/old/56230-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index f162068..0000000 --- a/old/56230-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/56230-h/56230-h.htm b/old/56230-h/56230-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 79f1f08..0000000 --- a/old/56230-h/56230-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11042 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> -<html> -<head> -<title>The Amethyst Cross</title> - -<meta name="Author" content="Fergus Hume"> - -<meta name="Publisher" content="Cassell and Company, Limited"> -<meta name="Date" content="1908"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF; - text-align: justify} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} -p.center {text-align: center;} -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - - -.t0 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:0em; margin-right:0em;} -.t1 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:1em; margin-right:0em;} -.t2 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:2em; margin-right:0em;} -.t3 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:3em; margin-right:0em;} -.t4 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:4em; margin-right:0em;} -.t5 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:5em; margin-right:0em;} - - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} - -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - -</style> - -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amethyst Cross, by Fergus Hume - -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: The Amethyst Cross - -Author: Fergus Hume - -Release Date: December 23, 2017 [EBook #56230] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMETHYST CROSS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by La -Trobe University, Australia - - - - - - -</pre> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Page scan source: http://<br> -arrow.latrobe.edu.au/store/3/4/6/3/1/public/B14644101.pdf<br> -(La Trobe University, Australia)</p> - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="center"><img src="images/frontcover.png" alt="front cover"></p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE AMETHYST CROSS</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<hr class="W90"> -<h4><i>BY THE<br> -SAME AUTHOR</i></h4> -<hr class="W90"> -<br> -<h3>THE MYSTERY<br> -OF A SHADOW</h3> -<br> -<hr class="W90"> -<h4>CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD.<br> -<span style="font-size:smaller">LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK, TORONTO -AND MELBOURNE</span></h4> -<hr class="W90"> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="center"><img src="images/frontispiece.png" alt="frontispiece"><br> -"'Father!' she shrieked!" (<i>see page 194</i>.)</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE</h4> -<h3>AMETHYST CROSS</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>BY</h5> -<h4>FERGUS HUME</h4> -<br> -<h5>AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB,"<br> -"FLIES IN THE WEB," "THE PURPLE FERN,"<br> -"THE MYSTERY OF A SHADOW," ETC.</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>WITH COLOURED FRONTISPIECE BY</h5> -<h4>C. DUDLEY TENNANT</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED<br> -<span style="font-size:smaller"><span class="sc">London, Paris, New York, Toronto and Melbourne</span> -1908</span></h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>ALL RIGHTS RESERVED</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> -<colgroup><col style="width:20%; vertical-align:top; text-align:right"><col style="width:80%; vertical-align:top; text-align:left"></colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"><h3>CONTENTS</h3></td> -</tr><tr> -<td>CHAPTER.</td> -<td> </td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">I.</a></td> -<td>THE BEGINNING OF A MYSTERY</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">II.</a></td> -<td>THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">III.</a></td> -<td>ANOTHER MYSTERY</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">IV.</a></td> -<td>A FAMILY HISTORY</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">V.</a></td> -<td>MRS. WALKER'S OPINION</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">VI.</a></td> -<td>PURPLE AND FINE LINEN</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">VII.</a></td> -<td>AFTER MIDNIGHT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">VIII.</a></td> -<td>UNDER A CLOUD</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">IX.</a></td> -<td>TWO GIRLS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">X.</a></td> -<td>THE <i>DEUS EX MACHINA</i></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">XI.</a></td> -<td>THE SEAMY SIDE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">XII.</a></td> -<td>A COUNTERPLOT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">XIII.</a></td> -<td>MRS. WALKER'S VISIT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">XIV.</a></td> -<td>THE FAMILY LAWYER</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">XV.</a></td> -<td>A STARTLING LETTER</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">XVI.</a></td> -<td>RECOGNITION</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">XVII.</a></td> -<td>DISGRACE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">XVIII.</a></td> -<td>LADY CHARVINGTON'S ACCUSATIONS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">XIX.</a></td> -<td>MR. HALE EXPLAINS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">XX.</a></td> -<td>JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS' MEETING</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">XXI.</a></td> -<td>TWO INTERVIEWS</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">XXII.</a></td> -<td>THE PLOT</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">XXIII.</a></td> -<td>ONE PART OF THE TRUTH</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">XXIV.</a></td> -<td>ANOTHER PART OF THE TRUTH</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">XXV.</a></td> -<td>REVENGE</td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">XXVI.</a></td> -<td>THE END OF IT ALL</td> -</tr></table> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>THE AMETHYST CROSS</h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">CHAPTER I</a></h4> -<h5>THE BEGINNING OF A MYSTERY</h5> -<br> - -<p>THE blackbird knew. He had paired for the fifth time in as many years, -and esteemed himself wise in the matters, of love. Therefore, from the -budding chestnut wherein his nest was built, did he sympathetically -watch the bachelor and maid who sat below. They were lovers as he knew -very well, for only lovers could have gazed so persistently into one -another's eyes, and therein did they behold each other as each wished -to be. Which sentence is cryptic to those who are not lovers as these -were.</p> - -<p>They might have looked at the smoothly-flowing river, singing quietly -to itself not a stone-cast away, or round a tangled garden, delicately -beautiful with the young greenery of May, or up into the azure depths -of a sky, flecked with silvery clouds. But they preferred--wisely it -may be--to look into each other's eyes, to clasp hands and to remain -silent with that eloquent muteness, which is the speech of true love. -Oh! the blackbird knew the meaning of these things very thoroughly, -and chuckled with such glee that he finally broke into glorious song -concerning the new love, the true love, the old love, the bold love, -which comes evermore with the blossoms of spring. But these -inhabitants of Paradise did not require the bird to reveal the -obvious. Their hearts were also singing the song of the early year.</p> - -<p>"It can't last for ever," murmured the maid dreamily, "it is too -beautiful to last, since we are but mortal."</p> - -<p>"It shall last for ever; it must," corrected the bachelor, wise in -that wisdom of the gods, which comes to wooers, "for we love with our -souls, dearest, and these cannot die."</p> - -<p>She knew that he was right, for her heart told her so. Therefore did -they again look into one another's eyes and again become silent, while -the fluting blackbird explained more than mere human speech could -render. And he, perched on a swaying bough, was only too willing to -interpret. He knew: he was wise. And listening Nature heard -complacently. To such ends had she shaped her children; for such a -reason had she provided their Arcadia.</p> - -<p>As Arcadia, like Marlowe's hell, is not circumscribed, it chanced that -this especial one was by Thames-side, and those who dwelt therein were -up-to-date in looks and dress and manners. Only their feelings were -those of classic times, and as he told her the old, old story, which -is ever new, she listened with the instinctive knowledge that the tale -was wonderfully familiar. She had read it in his eyes, after the -manner of maids, long before he dared to speak.</p> - -<p>And this river Paradise was not wholly unworthy at so comely an Adam -and Eve, although limited in extent and untrimmed in looks. Lord -Beaconsfield declared that the most perfect garden is that cultivated -to excess by man and then handed over to the caprice of Nature. The -owner of this demesne apparently subscribed to this dictum, for the -garden, well-filled with expensive flowers and shrubs, had long since -relapsed into wildness. On either side of the narrow strip of land, -sloping gradually to the stream, extended low walls of mellow red -brick overgrown with dark-green ivy. The flowerbeds were luxuriant -with docks and nettles and charlock and divers weeds: the pathways -were untidy with lush grass, and the tiny lawn at the water's edge was -shaggy and untrimmed. A wooden landing-stage floated near shore at the -garden's foot, and to this was attached the young man's boat. At the -far end of this neglected domain could be seen a thatched cottage with -whitewashed walls and oblong lattices quaintly diamond-paned. So -rustic and pretty and old-world did it look that it might well have -been the fairy-dwelling of a nursery tale. And the lovers themselves -were young and handsome enough to deserve the care of the fairies.</p> - -<p>He was tall, slim, well-formed, and Saxon in his fairness. His curly -hair--so much of it as the barber's shears had spared--was golden in -the sunlight, as was his small moustache, and his eyes were bravely -blue, as a hero's should be. The white boating-flannels accentuated -the bronze of his skin, and revealed the easy strength of an athlete. -He looked what the girl took him to be--a splendid young lover of -romance. Yet he was but a City clerk of prosaic environment, and his -youth alone improved him into Don Juan o' Dreams.</p> - -<p>The girl resembled Hebe, maidenly, dainty, and infinitely charming; or -it might be Titania, since her appearance was almost too fragile for -the work-a-day world. With a milky skin; brown-haired and brown-eyed; -with a tempting mouth and a well-rounded chin, she looked worthy of -any man's wooing. She was sweet and twenty; he but five years older, -so both were ripe for love. And then the spring, joyous and fresh, had -much to do with the proposal just made. Her answer to his question had -been tunefully commented upon by the irrepressible blackbird, who -expressed no surprise when the echo of a kiss interrupted his song.</p> - -<p>"But my father will never agree, George," sighed the girl, after this -outward and visible sound of acceptance.</p> - -<p>"Dearest Lesbia"--he folded her manfully in his arms--"I don't -see why your father should object. I am not rich certainly, as a -stockbroker's clerk doesn't earn large wages. But for your dear sake -I shall work and work and work until I become a millionaire."</p> - -<p>Lesbia smiled at this large promise. "We may have to wait for years."</p> - -<p>"What does it matter so long as our hearts are true?"</p> - -<p>"They may grow sick with waiting," said Lesbia, sighing. Then she -proceeded to look on the practical side of their idyll, as the most -romantic of women will do at the most romantic of moments. "You earn -only two hundred a year, darling, and my father--so far as I know--can -give me nothing. He has his pension from Lord Charvington, and makes a -small income by his work in the City, but"--here came a depressing -pause.</p> - -<p>"What does Mr. Hale do in the City?" asked George abruptly.</p> - -<p>Lesbia opened her brown eyes. "I don't know, dear. He goes there two -or three times a week, and always seems to be busy. I have asked him -what his occupation is, but he only laughs, and declares that dry -business details would not interest me. I am sure no girl ever knew so -little of her father as I do. It's not fair."</p> - -<p>"Strange!" murmured the young man meditatively. "I never see Mr. Hale -in the City, and although I have asked several people, no one appears -to know the name. Of course, darling, the City is a big place, and -your father may do business in a quiet way. Still it is odd that no -one should know. I wish I did. I might help him."</p> - -<p>"In what way?"</p> - -<p>"Well, Lesbia, the wages I receive at Tait's office are small, -and--and--and"--here George flushed for no apparent reason--"and there -are other things to be considered. If I could only get something else -to do I should leave Tait's. Your father might be willing to let me -enter his office, you know, and then I could work up his business, -whatever it might be."</p> - -<p>The girl nodded. She was a matter-of-fact young woman. Since Hale's -income was limited she was compelled, as housekeeper, very often to -consider ways and means. "You might speak to my father."</p> - -<p>"And may I mention our engagement?" he supplemented.</p> - -<p>"No-o!" Lesbia looked doubtful. "I had better announce that. Father -has a temper, and if he grew angry, you might grow angry also."</p> - -<p>"Oh no." George was entirely in earnest when he said this. "I should -always remember that he was your father and that you love him."</p> - -<p>Lesbia again looked doubtful. "Do I love him?" she mused.</p> - -<p>"One is supposed to love one's father," suggested George.</p> - -<p>She stared at the river. "Yes! I suppose so. Honour your parents, and -so forth. I don't honour my father, though--his temper is too bad. I -am not quite sure if I love him."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear." George looked nervous.</p> - -<p>"Don't make any mistake, dear boy. I like my father, since we are good -friends, and usually he is kind--that is, when he is not in a rage. -But then, you see, sweetest," she sighed, "he is nearly always in a -rage about some trifle. Look at the garden," she waved her hand -vaguely, "I wanted to hire a gardener to make it look more -respectable, and father was furious. He declared that he did not want -people to come spying round the cottage. Spying! Such an odd word to -use."</p> - -<p>"Your father is an odd man," said George ruefully, "and he certainly -has not been over-hospitable to me. Perhaps he guesses that I have -come to steal his jewel, and one can't be hospitable to a robber."</p> - -<p>Lesbia pinched his chin. "You silly boy, my father doesn't think so -much of me as you do. I sometimes wonder," she went on sadly, "if he -loves me at all. I am very much alone."</p> - -<p>"He doesn't treat you badly?" demanded George with sudden heat.</p> - -<p>"No, dear, no. I shouldn't allow anyone to treat me badly, not even my -father. But I fancy he regards me as a necessary trouble, for -sometimes he looks at me in a disagreeable way as though he fancied I -was spying."</p> - -<p>"Why do you use so disagreeable a word?" asked the straightforward -clerk.</p> - -<p>"My father used it himself in the first instance," she rejoined -promptly; "perhaps because he doesn't want anyone else to meet the -queer people who come to see him,--generally after dark. Men who smell -of drink, who use slang and dress like grooms,--certainly not -gentlemen. Of course I never talk to them, for when they appear, my -father always sends me to my room. I'm sure," sighed the girl -dolefully, "that if it wasn't for old Tim, the servant, I should be -quite alone."</p> - -<p>George hugged her. "You shall never be alone again!" he whispered, and -Lesbia threw her arms round his neck with great contentment.</p> - -<p>"Oh, darling, you don't know how good that sounds to me. If it were -only true. You see, my father may object."</p> - -<p>"He can object until he is tired," cried the ardent lover. "If he does -not make you happy I must. And when he sees this----"</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Lesbia clasped her hand in delight at the sight of a cheap -turquoise ring, "how lovely!"</p> - -<p>George frowned at the mean gift. "It was all I could afford," said he.</p> - -<p>"It is all I want," she said, as he slipped it on her engagement -finger, "it's not the cost, or even the thing. It's what it means. -Love and joy to you and me, dearest boy."</p> - -<p>But George, having a generous heart, still lamented. "If I hadn't to -keep my mother," he said ruefully. "I would save up and give you -diamonds. But two hundred a year goes a very little way with my -mother, even when her own small income is added. You see, dear, she -never forgets that my father was the Honourable Aylmer Walker, and she -will insist upon having everything of the best. This is a beastly -cheap ring, but--but----"</p> - -<p>"But you denied yourself all manner of nice things to buy it for ME," -finished Lesbia, pressing a kiss on his willing cheek.</p> - -<p>"No, dear, no," he said valiantly, "only a few pipes of tobacco."</p> - -<p>"You dearest donkey," cooed the girl, more touched than she chose to -confess, "doesn't that show me how you love me. As to the ring," she -surveyed the cheap trinket critically, "it is exactly what I wanted. -The stones are the colour of your dear eyes."</p> - -<p>George, man-like, was delighted. "You know the colour of my eyes?"</p> - -<p>Lesbia boxed his ears delicately. "I knew the colour exactly one -minute after our very first meeting."</p> - -<p>"Did you love me then?"</p> - -<p>"No. Certainly not: how conceited you are."</p> - -<p>"Then why did you notice my----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, a woman always notices these things, when a man is nice."</p> - -<p>"And you thought me nice?"</p> - -<p>Lesbia fenced. "Good-looking, at all events. You wore a dark flannel -suit striped with pale green."</p> - -<p>"So I did," cried George, delighted, "it was at Mrs. Riordan's picnic -near Bisham Abbey a year ago. And you were there."</p> - -<p>Lesbia laughed and nursed her knees. "I must have been, since I can -describe you so exactly. What did I wear, dear?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said George promptly.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" she was quite disappointed, "and you call yourself a lover?"</p> - -<p>"I do," he rejoined stoutly, "for, as I fell in love with you the -moment we met, I saw only your eyes and your angel face. How could you -expect me to remember a mere dress when----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, what nonsense--very nice nonsense; still nonsense."</p> - -<p>"I like talking nonsense to you."</p> - -<p>"And I like to hear it from you. But it isn't bread and butter."</p> - -<p>"You're thinking of afternoon tea," said George Walker audaciously.</p> - -<p>"No. I'm thinking of how we are to live when we marry."</p> - -<p>The mere mention of that delicious word made George forget the warning -conveyed by the sentence. "Marry! Marry you! Oh, heaven!"</p> - -<p>"A pauper heaven, I fear," said Lesbia; then fished in her pocket, -"see, the only valuable thing I possess, besides your love. It is for -you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, my dear, it's not a man's ornament."</p> - -<p>"As if that matters, since I give it to you," she said, laughing. "I -must give you something, and this is all I have to give."</p> - -<p>She held out her hand, on the palm of which rested an amethyst cross -formed of four deeply purple stones, set lightly in gold filigree, -with a loop at the top for the necessary chain to pass through. Not a -very uncommon ornament at the first glance, George decided, although -very beautiful. But on looking more closely he became aware that there -was something bizarre about the thing. In the centre where the four -stones met was a tiny cube of malachite, graven with a golden crown -and inscribed with minute letters. The pansy-blossom hue of the stones -contrasting with the vivid green of the cube gave the ornament rather -an uncanny look.</p> - -<p>"What a queer thing," said George, transferring the cross to his broad -palm.</p> - -<p>"Yes! isn't it?" said Lesbia eagerly, and then brought out a -magnifying glass. "And the inscription is still queerer."</p> - -<p>George poised the powerful glass over the slab of malachite, and with -some difficulty deciphered the golden Gothic letters. "'Refuse and -Lose,'" he read slowly. "Now what does that mean?"</p> - -<p>"You stupid darling," cried Lesbia, pinching his ear, "can't you -see? If you refuse the cross--which is married life; you lose the -crown--which is me."</p> - -<p>Walker thrust the cross into his pocket, handed back the magnifying -glass and solemnly embraced the girl, "I'll take the cross and the -crown and you, and everything I can get," he whispered in her ear. "I -don't exactly see the meaning, of course, but----"</p> - -<p>"Was there ever such a dense man?" Lesbia demanded of the blackbird in -despair. "It's a religious symbol, of course. If you refuse to bear -life's cross in the way you should, you lose the crown which ought to -be yours in heaven."</p> - -<p>George took out the ornament again and looked at it seriously. He had -a considerable strain of the Puritan in his nature, to which the idea -appealed strongly. "I shall certainly not refuse life's cross," he -declared soberly, "and may we both some day wear a crown in a better -world."</p> - -<p>"My darling, my dearest, my best," she murmured, embracing him fondly. -The touch of seriousness in George's gay disposition enhanced his -value in her eyes. She approved of so sterling a character.</p> - -<p>"Where did you get the cross?" asked Walker, while the jewels winked -in the sunshine. "From your father?"</p> - -<p>"No!" she replied unexpectedly. "He doesn't know that I possess such a -thing. But my nurse, old Bridget Burke--Tim's mother, you know--who -died last summer, gave it to me on her death-bed and warned me not to -tell my father about it. She said that it came from my dead mother, -and was to be given by me to the man I loved. So you see, my darling, -that even though it is a woman's ornament, you must take it."</p> - -<p>"I'll wear it round my neck," declared George. "It will bring me good -luck, I am sure."</p> - -<p>"So Bridget said," observed the girl promptly. "She had the 'sight,' -you know, George, and declared that the cross would bring me luck and -money and love and position. I don't know how, unless it is by -marrying you."</p> - -<p>"Ah, my love," said George somewhat sadly. "I can only give you my -heart. Money and position must come later. But if we both obey the -inscription and bear the cross we shall win the crown of success in -the end. Look how the gems flash, Lesbia--an earnest of the future."</p> - -<p>While they were both admiring the cross, a tall, lean man, perfectly -dressed in a Bond Street kit, came softly down the grassy path. He -looked like a gentleman, and also like a hawk, and his pale eyes -wandered from one bent head to the other until they dropped to the -flash of the jewelled cross, which glittered on Walker's palm. Then -the newcomer started nervously, and took a step nearer to observe. -Lesbia and her lover looked up as the shadow of the man fell across -them, and in the movement they made, the cross fell on the grass.</p> - -<p>"Oh, father, how you startled us," cried the girl, springing to her -feet.</p> - -<p>Mr. Walter Hale did not reply. His eyes were still on the purple -stones of the cross, and when his daughter stooped to pick it up, he -twitched his fingers as though anxious to take it from her. "Where did -you get that?" he demanded abruptly and harshly.</p> - -<p>"Bridget gave it to me, and I have given it to George," she said, -handing the ornament to her lover. "It belonged to my mother."</p> - -<p>"It did," said Hale sharply, "and therefore must not pass out of the -family."</p> - -<p>"It won't," said Lesbia cheerfully; "George is to be my husband."</p> - -<p>Mr. Hale frowned. "You have yet to gain my permission," he said in dry -tones. "Meanwhile, Mr. Walker, give me back the cross."</p> - -<p>"No!" said George, who did not like the tone of his future -father-in-law and could be obstinate when necessary. "Lesbia gave it -to me, and I intend to keep it."</p> - -<p>"Lesbia had no right to give it to you," cried Hale, his voice rising, -and he extended his hand to take his desire. But Walker was too quick -for him and dexterously swerving, shot the cross into his pocket.</p> - -<p>"It is Lesbia's first present to me," said he, excusing his obstinacy.</p> - -<p>"She has no right to make you presents," foamed the other, who had now -entirely lost his temper.</p> - -<p>"She has the right of a lover," retorted George coolly.</p> - -<p>"There can be no question of love between you and my daughter."</p> - -<p>The girl moved to her lover's side, very pale and very defiant. "That -is for me to decide," she said coldly, but with determination.</p> - -<p>"You go against your father, Lesbia?"</p> - -<p>"For the first time in my life. And why not, when the matter is so -important?"</p> - -<p>Hale bit his lips and tried to stare her down: but as her eyes did not -drop before his own he was the first to give way, and did so with -inward rage. With an impatient shrug he wheeled to face young Walker. -The two presented the striking contrast of untainted youth and -artificial age too much versed in the evils of life. And youth had the -advantage, for--as in the case of Lesbia--the older man tried to -dominate without success. He was forced to take refuge in idle -threats.</p> - -<p>"If you do not give me back that cross, it will be the worse for you," -remarked Hale, very distinctly and with menace.</p> - -<p>George clenched his fists, then, with a glance towards Lesbia, ended -the argument by stepping into his boat. As he rowed off, Hale, who had -not attempted to stop him, turned bitterly to his daughter.</p> - -<p>"You have ruined me," he said between his teeth, and returned hastily -to the cottage.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">CHAPTER II</a></h4> -<h5>THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS</h5> -<br> - -<p>To say that Lesbia was amazed conveys imperfectly her state of mind. -The sudden arrival of her father, the hasty departure of her lover, -the mysterious incident connected with the amethyst cross, and the -still more mysterious remark which Mr. Hale had made--these things -perplexed and, very naturally, alarmed her. At once, with the -swiftness of an imaginative brain, she conjured up visions of disgrace -and shame and criminal publicity, going too far in her surmises, after -the fashion of such a brain. For after all, as a calmer reflection -suggested, there was nothing in what had taken place that should -induce such happenings, although there were several disquieting hints.</p> - -<p>For a few moments the girl remained where she was, too agitated to -move; but when Hale disappeared into the cottage, and George's boat -vanished round a bend of the shining river, she woke to the fact that -for her own peace of mind it was necessary to ask questions. At once -she ran up the grass-grown path, and speedily found herself in the -narrow passage, which led right through the house from back to front. -But she only entered to hear the street door bang, and flew to open it -again in the hope of catching Mr. Hale before he could go far away. -But the man must have made good use of his legs, for when she peered -out into the quiet side street she noticed that it was empty. This -vanishing of her father without an explanation dismayed her more than -ever, and in the hope of gaining some sort of information she sought -Tim in the tiny kitchen, calling on him loudly. A soft voice like a -well-tuned lute answered her from the scullery.</p> - -<p>"Ah, Miss Lesbia, and what wud ye be after spoilin' yer pretty voice -for now? Don't ye, me darlin', don't ye!"</p> - -<p>"Why has my father gone out, Tim?" asked Lesbia sharply.</p> - -<p>An odd little man emerged from the scullery and stood coolly rubbing -his nose-tip with the toe of the boot he was polishing. "An' how -should I know, miss? Didn't he come tearing through the passage, as if -the divil wor after him, an' lape like a trout int' the street? Sure -ye must have seen the masther rampagin' yersilf."</p> - -<p>"I know that father came and found me with George and----"</p> - -<p>"Ah, thin, 'tis Garge, is it?" muttered Tim, beginning to brush -mechanically.</p> - -<p>"And rushed away in a temper because George would not give him my -amethyst cross."</p> - -<p>Crash went the boot on the floor, and the blacking-brush followed, -while Tim stared out of his melancholy grey eyes as though he saw a -ghost. Decidedly the ornament was causing a considerable sensation, -although Lesbia could not understand why her father should rage, any -more than why Tim should stare. "Like a stuck pig," as she said, -inelegantly. And the annoying thing was that he did more than stare.</p> - -<p>"Oh, blissid saints in glory!" groaned the Irishman, crossing himself.</p> - -<p>"What on earth do you mean?" asked the girl, tartly, for she was -beginning to weary of these mysteries.</p> - -<p>"Oh, blissid saints in glory!" Tim moaned again, and, picking up the -boot and the brush with the expression of a martyr, went into the -scullery to peel potatoes.</p> - -<p>Lesbia, who was a determined young woman, followed, quite bent upon -getting at the root of the disturbance.</p> - -<p>"Come and talk, Tim."</p> - -<p>"Sure an' I must git the dinner ready anyhow, Miss."</p> - -<p>"Come out, or I'll come in," cried Lesbia, standing at the door.</p> - -<p>"Sure ye wudn't dirthy th' clothes av ye," coaxed Tim, and very -unwillingly scrambled back into the cleaner, drier kitchen with the -tin basin of potatoes in his huge fist.</p> - -<p>He was certainly an ugly, under-sized man, and looked like the wicked -dwarf of a fairy tale. But the similarity was all on the surface, for -Tim Burke was as good and devoted a little Paddy as ever dipped his -fingers into holy water. But his appearance was not prepossessing, for -he was broader than he was long, and on a pair of hunched shoulders -was set askew a gigantic head much too large for his squat body. His -short legs were crooked, and he usually walked in a crab-like fashion -in unexpected directions--that is, whither his brain did not direct -his legs to go. He was barely five feet high, and his shaggy beard was -as red as the untidy hair covering his poll. He was quite a -monstrosity.</p> - -<p>Nevertheless, Tim had his good points, for Nature had given him -beautiful grey eyes, pathetic as those of a dog, and a sweet -sympathetic voice, which sounded like a mellow bell. To hear Tim sing -Irish ditties of the heart-breaking sort was a treat not to be met -with every day, but he rarely sang them, save to Lesbia, whom he -adored. And small wonder, for she alone was kind to the odd, uncouth, -little man. Mr. Hale, whose selfishness was phenomenal, treated Tim -like a white slave and, indeed, he might be called one, seeing that he -worked like a horse and received no wages. Yet he was an admirable -housekeeper and a magnificent cook. With such qualifications he could -have procured a well-paid situation. Yet, for Lesbia's sake, he -remained at Rose Cottage, watching her like a cat a mouse, but with -more amiable intentions. She was the legacy which his mother Bridget, -the girl's nurse, had left him on her death-bed, when she died some -twelve months before.</p> - -<p>Lesbia, looking like a fairy princess attended by her dwarf, perched -herself on the kitchen table with a severe face. To lose no time while -being questioned, Tim set to work peeling the potatoes, for Mr. Hale -growled like a bear when his meals were not placed punctually on the -table. As he peeled each potato, he dropped it with a splash into a -bucket of clean water and rarely raised his sad eyes to the face of -his young mistress during the conversation which ensued. Also--and -this Lesbia noticed--he conversed very reluctantly, and every -admission was wrung from unwilling lips.</p> - -<p>"Tim," said his mistress severely, and beginning at the beginning, -"you are the only son of my nurse, Bridget Burke."</p> - -<p>"I am that, Miss, her only boy, Miss, and a good mother she was to -me."</p> - -<p>"A good nurse also, Tim. She loved me."</p> - -<p>"An' who wudn't, ye pretty creature? Ain't I devoted to ye likewise, -me darlin'? Answer me that now?"</p> - -<p>"I shall do so," said Miss Hale significantly, "when our conversation -comes to an end."</p> - -<p>Tim groaned and winced. "Bad luck to the crass," he breathed, "an' may -the Vargin forgive me for sayin that same."</p> - -<p>"Why, bad luck to the cross?" demanded Lesbia, coming to the point.</p> - -<p>"An' how shud I know, me dear?"</p> - -<p>"But you do know," she insisted. "Tim, your mother gave me that -cross."</p> - -<p>"Did she now?--the owd fool."</p> - -<p>"How dare you, Tim, and Bridget dead? She was your mother."</p> - -<p>"Deed an' well she might be, Miss, for an uglier owd woman nivir could -be found in County Clare, forby she left it for this blissid country -whin I wor a gossoon."</p> - -<p>"Did my father bring her over from Ireland, Tim?"</p> - -<p>"Not he," Tim shook his Judas-coloured head. "Divil an eye did the -pair av us clap on the gintleman for many a long day. Wasn't I a -bare-futted brat runnin' wild about Whitechapel till my father--rest -his sowl--wos tuck by the police for shop-liftin'--bad luck to thim? -An' he died in gaol, poor man--ah, that he did, laving me mother an' -me widout bread in the mouths av us."</p> - -<p>"What did Bridget do then, Tim?"</p> - -<p>"Sure she come to Wimbleton or a place hard by," admitted Tim -reluctantly, "sellin' apples an' nuts, an' a mighty bad thing she made -by the sale."</p> - -<p>"I want to know exactly how she came to be my nurse?" said Lesbia.</p> - -<p>Tim bent over the potatoes deeply interested in the peeling. "Why, -Miss, your father--" here he swallowed something--"the masther, Miss, -and a kind, good gintleman, tuck pity on her and give her the -situation as your nurse, me dear."</p> - -<p>"But my mother?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, howly saints, an' how cud she say anything whin she wos dyin' an' -you but a year old? But my mother nursed you like her own choild, -Miss, till ye went to that school at Hampstead. But ye came back here -just whin she was dyin', poor sowl."</p> - -<p>"I did, a year ago," said Lesbia significantly, "and in time to -receive the cross, Tim."</p> - -<p>"May the father av lies fly away wid it!" groaned the dwarf. "An' may -the saints forgive me for the wicked wish."</p> - -<p>"Whatever do you mean, Tim?"</p> - -<p>"Mane, ah, nivir ask me what I mane. But the crass isn't with ye now, -an' ye'll be the betther widout it."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Lesbia slipped off the table with a heightened colour, "does -that mean it is unlucky? I gave it to George, you see, and----"</p> - -<p>"Ah, divil doubt but what you'd give the head av ye to Garge," -grumbled Tim, taking up the tin of peeled potatoes. "Ah, well, 'tis -betther he shud have it nor you, me dear."</p> - -<p>"But why, but why?" asked Lesbia, frantic with curiosity.</p> - -<p>"Ah, nivir ask me, Miss," replied Tim enigmatically, and departed to -continue his culinary work; also--as she could see--to avoid further -questioning.</p> - -<p>Failing Tim, the girl resolved to learn what her father would say, -when at dinner. This was a meal which Mr. Hale never missed, as he was -devoted to the pleasures of the table and appreciated Tim's excellent -cooking. He always arrayed himself in purple and fine linen to do -justice to the viands set before him, and it was the rule of the -cottage that Lesbia should also dress appropriately. Her father prided -himself upon being ultra-civilised, and would have eaten a red herring -with sartorial ceremony. The table was admirably laid with crystal and -silver and valuable china, and--decorated with flowers in graceful -vases--looked extremely pretty. Tim, in a livery of his master's -devising, acted as butler, and the wines were as good as the food, -which is saying a lot. Mr. Hale might live in a humble cottage and -might mix with queer people, but he was a sybarite, who enjoyed the -good things of this life artistically prepared. The room was -beautifully furnished, and Lesbia was more beautiful than the room. -Therefore, on this especial night, Mr. Walter Hale had both his palate -and his eye gratified. His ear was not ministered to quite so -pleasantly, as, after dinner, and when Tim had left the room to -prepare the coffee, he renewed the subject of the cross with his -daughter.</p> - -<p>"Lesbia," said he, fixing his eyes on her somewhat flushed face, and -looking extremely high-bred, "why did you give away that cross?"</p> - -<p>"Bridget, who presented it to me on her death-bed, said that I was to -bestow it on the man I meant to marry. I have done so."</p> - -<p>This was a very defiant speech, and Hale frowned. "I shall not allow -you to marry young Walker," he said distinctly.</p> - -<p>Lesbia shrugged her shoulders with indifference. This was not the way -to manage her. "I am sorry, father, as I have decided to become his -wife."</p> - -<p>"He has no money, you silly girl. I know for a fact that he is paid -only a small salary by Michael Tait, who is a screw and a skinflint -where his own pleasures are not concerned. Moreover, Walker has to -support his widowed mother, and she is not likely to welcome a -daughter-in-law who will curtail her comforts, such as they are. A -hard woman, Lesbia, a very hard woman, my dear. I ought to know, as we -have been acquainted for years."</p> - -<p>The prospect did not seem alluring, but love sustained the girl. -"George might get a better situation," she ventured to remark, a -trifle anxiously. "Why," she added, this as though the thought had -just struck her, "he might help you, father."</p> - -<p>Hale spilt the port wine he was pouring into his glass. "What's that?"</p> - -<p>"You need not speak crossly, father," replied Lesbia, puzzled by the -sharpness of his tone. "I merely suggested that George might enter -your office, and then he----"</p> - -<p>The man rose suddenly and began to pace the room with the glass -of wine in his hand. But the look he cast upon his daring child -was so grim that the unfinished sentence died on her lips. -"'George--might--enter--your--office!'" he repeated slowly, and ended -with a cynical laugh. "Humph! I wonder now----" he laughed again and -checked his speech. Then he finished his glass of wine and returned to -the table. "When does Walker come to see you again?" he asked -abruptly.</p> - -<p>"To-morrow night at six o'clock," said Lesbia, promptly. "He rows down -the river from Medmenham, or walks along the towing-path, every -evening."</p> - -<p>"A devoted lover truly," said Hale drily, "and how long has this -pretty wooing been going on?"</p> - -<p>"For a few months," said Lesbia, rather alarmed by the stern -expression of her father's face. "Don't be angry. After all, it was -you who introduced me to George."</p> - -<p>"The more fool I, seeing his age and looks and poverty. Lesbia!" he -placed his knuckles on the table and leaned across it. "You must marry -my friend, Captain Sargent."</p> - -<p>"Ex-Captain Sargent," cried Lesbia scornfully, and rising -unexpectedly. "I shall do nothing of the sort. I don't even like him."</p> - -<p>"Pooh! Pooh! Pooh! He is a gentleman----"</p> - -<p>"So is George."</p> - -<p>Hale rapped the table sharply. "Do not interrupt, you minx. Sargent -has retired from the army, it is true. But he has a good income and a -pretty bungalow at Cookham. We were in the same regiment until I left -the service some fifteen years ago; so I know him well. He will make -an excellent husband--a very excellent husband indeed."</p> - -<p>"But, father, he is nearly as old as you are."</p> - -<p>"What of that? Sargent is a handsome man and looks young."</p> - -<p>Lesbia bit her lip, and tapped her foot on the ground. "I shan't marry -him."</p> - -<p>Hale scowled. "You shall. I am your father and you shall do as you are -told, my dear. And if you don't marry Sargent you shall certainly not -marry Walker, unless----" he stopped suddenly.</p> - -<p>"Unless what?"</p> - -<p>"Unless you get that cross back from him," stormed Hale angrily.</p> - -<p>Lesbia was nothing if not direct, and the mystery of the cross piqued -her exceedingly. She ventured on a leading question. "Why do you want -that cross so much, father?"</p> - -<p>"It belonged to your poor mother," said Mr. Hale sentimentally, "and -means more to me than you can ever guess. I missed it from your -mother's jewel-case when she died; but I never expected that Bridget -Burke, who was supposed to be the soul of honesty, had stolen it."</p> - -<p>"No! no. I don't believe Bridget would have stolen anything."</p> - -<p>"Bridget would have done anything that suited her," retorted Hale -grimly, "and if she came by the cross honestly--say by your mother -giving it to her--why did she not let you show it to me?"</p> - -<p>"I can't guess: perhaps she thought you would take it from me."</p> - -<p>"I might and I might not," replied Hale hesitatingly, "but at all -events I should not have allowed you to give it to young Walker. You -must ask him to return it at once."</p> - -<p>"I shall not," said Lesbia determinedly.</p> - -<p>"You shall," cried Hale, and their eyes met like those of two duelists -crossing swords. But the father's eyes fell first. "You dare to defy -me."</p> - -<p>"Not exactly, but----"</p> - -<p>"I want no explanations, thank you; but I'll make a bargain with you. -If Walker returns that cross he can have you as his wife. If not, I -shall refuse to allow him to haunt the cottage or pay attentions to -you. And remember, Lesbia, that I hold the purse-strings."</p> - -<p>"George can keep me," panted Lesbia, her colour rising.</p> - -<p>"George has to keep his mother. Marry him without a dowry and see what -the Honourable Mrs. Aylmer Walker will say."</p> - -<p>"You cannot give me a fortune, father."</p> - -<p>"I can give you two thousand a year if you are obedient," said her -father coolly, and walked towards the door. "Think it over, Lesbia," -and he left her to meditate on the astounding news.</p> - -<p>Lesbia was naturally astonished, since she never dreamed that her -father was so wealthy. Everything in the cottage was good of its kind, -and even luxurious, and the living was excellent. But at times Hale -appeared to lack ready money, and frequently impressed upon Tim that -it was necessary to be economical. Why then should he act in this way -when he appeared to be rich, and why should he offer so large an -income on condition that the cross was returned? So far as Lesbia -understood her father's hard nature, he was not a man to pay -generously for a merely sentimental idea.</p> - -<p>However, the fact remained that if she could get the amethyst cross -returned, she could marry George and bring him a substantial dowry. -After much reflection, she determined to ask George for the ornament. -After all, she could easily give him something else, and it was worth -satisfying her father when so much was at stake.</p> - -<p>For half a moment Lesbia thought that she would put on her cloak and -hat, and walk along the towing-path to Medmenham in the hope of -meeting her lover. It was now half-past eight, as dinner had taken -place at seven.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hale had gone out, and Tim, as was his custom on fine evenings, -was paddling about in a boat on the river, sometimes rowing and -sometimes fishing. She was alone and the solitude was becoming -irksome. A great wave of desire for love and sympathy came over the -girl, and she longed to see George Walker immediately, not only to -tell him of her father's offer, but to be petted and kissed and -comforted. But a few minutes' reflection showed her that it was not -advisable that she should walk alone to Medmenham, especially as the -chances were that she might not meet her lover. It was true that he -would certainly be at home, but Lesbia did not know Mrs. Walker and, -from the description given by her father, hesitated to meet that -formidable lady. On the whole, then, she decided, it was better to -wait until George came as usual on the ensuing evening.</p> - -<p>Being alone, it was difficult to find entertainment. Lesbia played the -piano for a few minutes: then she read and afterwards enjoyed a game -or two of Patience. Finally, feeling bored in the lonely house, she -retired to bed about ten o'clock. There she speedily fell asleep, and -dreamed that all obstacles were removed, and she was George Walker's -wife. When she put out her light, neither Mr. Hale nor Tim had -returned.</p> - -<p>Lesbia's sleep lasted for some considerable time. Then she suddenly -sat up with her senses keenly alive to every sensation. It seemed to -her that George had called her, and that she had awakened in answer to -his cry. And it was a cry for help, too! With a sensation of alarm, -she sprang from her bed, and opened the lattice to look down the -garden and across the river. There it flowed silvery in the calm -moonlight: but she heard no cry and saw nothing. Yet the call for -help had been very distinct. Lesbia was not superstitious, and had it -been broad daylight she would have laughed, at such midnight fancies. -But in the mysterious moonlight--alone in the house so far as she -knew--and at the hour of twelve o'clock, her heart beat rapidly, and a -cold perspiration broke out on her forehead. George was in danger: she -was sure of that. And George had called to her in a dream. What was -she to do? In which direction was she to look?</p> - -<p>The first idea that came into her head was to see Tim, and explain. He -would not laugh at her fancies, as he had many of his own. Lesbia -threw on her dressing-gown, slipped her feet into shoes, and went down -the narrow staircase, taking a lighted candle with her. In the hall -all was quiet, and she paused here for a single moment, wondering if -it was worth while to awaken Tim with such a fantastical story of -midnight terrors. Just as she was deciding that it would be wiser to -return to bed, she heard a groan, and in her fright nearly dropped the -candle. But being a brave girl, she plucked up courage and listened. -There came a second groan--from the parlour. Lesbia immediately opened -the door and entered. There on the floor she saw a man bound and -gagged and stiff, with nothing alive about him but his eyes. And those -were the eyes of George Walker.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">CHAPTER III</a></h4> -<h5>ANOTHER MYSTERY</h5> -<br> - -<p>Lesbia Hale was small, fragile and, in a degree, romantic; but in -sufficiently strange contrast, her frame was strong and her nature -practical. An ordinary girl would have screamed and fainted, or -perhaps would have run away. Lesbia did none of these things. She -turned pale, it is true, and she trembled violently as she stared with -dilated eyes at the bound form of her lover. Then it came upon her -with a rush that immediate aid was required, and without even calling -for Tim, she set down her candlestick on a convenient chair, and knelt -beside the unfortunate young man. He was certainly in a very bad way; -but how he came to be in such a plight, Lesbia, with characteristic -commonsense, did not wait to inquire. The first thing was to loosen -him, and revive him with wine: then she could ask questions. The -answers promised to be interesting.</p> - -<p>First she dexterously removed the handkerchief from across his mouth, -with which George had been gagged in a clumsy manner. This she threw -aside with a passing thought that later she would learn to whom it -belonged, and then proceeded to unloosen the knot of the rope with -which her lover was bound. There was only one rope and only one knot, -and when she had disentangled the somewhat complicated fastening, she -unwound the cord which curled round him from his broad shoulders to -his ankles. With his arms glued to his sides and his feet pressed -closely together, George Walker had been tied up with yards of -brand-new manila rope, so that he could not move, and was trussed as -stiffly as any fowl prepared for the market. And the person or persons -who had bound him thus, to make assurance doubly sure, had struck him -a heavy blow on the back of his head. Lesbia discovered this by the -half-dry blood which clotted his curly hair.</p> - -<p>"What does it all mean?" asked Lesbia, when George was free from his -bonds, and lying almost as stiffly without them as he had when bound. -But the young man did not reply, for the very good reason that he had -fainted. At once Lesbia kissed him, and then went to the parlour door -to summon Tim.</p> - -<p>She called loudly, quite heedless of the fact that she might waken her -father, who did not approve of young Walker. And even if he did not, -it was necessary that he should come to aid the unfortunate man. So -while the French clock on the mantelpiece struck a silvery twelve, -Lesbia shouted at the full pitch of her healthy young lungs. In a few -minutes the alarmed voice of Tim was heard, and by the time she was -again kneeling beside George, the dwarf shuffled hurriedly into the -dimly-lighted room, half-dressed, a candle in one hand and the kitchen -poker in the other.</p> - -<p>"The saints be betwixt us and harm, Miss Lesbia," cried Tim, who -looked scared out of his senses, "what's come to you?"</p> - -<p>"What's come to George, you mean," said Lesbia, looking up. "See, Tim, -I heard him call me and came downstairs a few minutes ago to find him -bound and wounded. Don't stand there shaking, and don't chatter. Get -the brandy and heat some water. He has fainted, and we must bring him -to his senses."</p> - -<p>"But how the divil did Masther Garge come here?" demanded Tim, aghast.</p> - -<p>"How should I know?" retorted Lesbia impatiently. "We can ask him when -he is able to speak. Go and do what I tell you while I waken my -father."</p> - -<p>"Sure the masther isn't in, Miss," expostulated Tim, backing towards -the door. "He wint out afther dinner to spind the night wid Captain -Sargent at Cookham. An' that we shud have the bad luck av this, while -he's away. Oh, Miss Lesbia, wasn't it burglars I was thinking av? But -nivir murder, save the mark, an' sudden death at that."</p> - -<p>"It will be sudden death if you don't get that brandy. Stop!" Lesbia -started to her feet. "I'll get it myself. Go and heat the water to -bathe his wound."</p> - -<p>She ran into the dining-room and procured the spirit, while Tim went -to stoke up the kitchen fire. Lesbia forced George's teeth apart and -poured the brandy wholesale down his throat. The ardent liquor revived -him, and he opened his eyes with a faint sigh. "Don't speak, darling," -she whispered, with a second kiss, and then set to work chafing his -limbs. By the time Tim appeared with a jug of boiling water, the young -man had quite recovered his senses, and attempted to explain.</p> - -<p>"No," said Lesbia sharply, "you are too weak as yet. Bring a basin, -Tim, and a sponge. We must bathe his head."</p> - -<p>Considering she had no practice Lesbia performed her Good Samaritan -task very dexterously and, having sponged the wound--a nasty, jagged -blow from some blunt instrument,--bound up her lover's head with that -cleverness and tenderness which come from love. When he had quite -recovered--save for a trifling weakness--she made him lie down on the -sofa, and fed him with weak brandy and water. Tim meanwhile lighted -the lamp, and exhausted himself in guessing the reason for the -condition of young Walker. "It's that blissed crass," moaned Tim, -moving round like an unquiet ghost, "bad luck to the same! Didn't I -say it wud bring throuble?"</p> - -<p>"You did, Tim, you did," assented Lesbia, who was seated by the now -recovered man, and looking somewhat weary after her exertions, "but as -George is comparatively well, he can explain."</p> - -<p>"The cross is quite safe," said Walker faintly. "I left it at home. -Oh, my head, how it aches. No wonder, when such a heavy blow was -struck."</p> - -<p>"Who struck it, dear?" inquired Lesbia.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," George's voice was weary. "It's a long story."</p> - -<p>"Drink some more of this," said Lesbia, holding the glass to his pale -lips, "and wait until you feel stronger."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm much better now," he replied, pushing the brandy and water -away, "but I shan't be able to go to the office to-morrow morning."</p> - -<p>"Beg-ad, it's to-morrow morning already!" said Tim, glancing at the -clock. "Half-past twilve as I'm a sinner, an' here's Miss Lesbia an' -mesilf sittin' up like the quality. Oh, the sowl av me, what will the -masther say?"</p> - -<p>"What can he say?" demanded Miss Hale tartly. "Father can't hold you -and me accountable for the unexpected."</p> - -<p>"Unexpected, indeed," breathed George. "Who would have thought that I -would have been struck down on the towing-path. I can't guess the -reason, Lesbia, it's beyond me."</p> - -<p>"The crass! the crass!" muttered Tim, shaking his shaggy head.</p> - -<p>"What do you know about it?" demanded Lesbia.</p> - -<p>"Divil a thing, but that it brings bad luck," answered Tim sturdily.</p> - -<p>"It is not altogether bad luck that George has been brought here for -me to attend to him," she retorted.</p> - -<p>"No, dear," Walker patted her hand, "this accident shows me what an -angel you are. But how did I come here?"</p> - -<p>"Don't you know who brought you?"</p> - -<p>"I know nothing from the time I was struck down on the towing-path -near Medmenham, until the moment I saw you standing in yonder doorway -with a candle in your hand."</p> - -<p>Lesbia knitted her pretty brows. "I can't understand. Some enemy----"</p> - -<p>"I have no enemies," murmured George positively.</p> - -<p>"Then it's a mystery," declared the girl, still more perplexed. "Tell -me exactly what took place."</p> - -<p>Walker passed his hand wearily across his forehead, for his head ached -considerably. "After leaving you with your father, darling, I rowed -back to Medmenham, and went home to the cottage. My mother was not -within, as she had gone up to town early in the day and did not intend -to return until to-morrow----"</p> - -<p>"That's to-day, begob!" interpolated Tim, again looking at the clock.</p> - -<p>"Then it is to-day she returns," said Walker, in a stronger voice, -"about three in the afternoon. But to continue, Lesbia, I had my -dinner and smoked a pipe. Then I grew restless, wondering if you were -having a bad time with your father on my account. I thought he would -make things unpleasant for you, and determined to come down and see -what had happened. That was about ten o'clock."</p> - -<p>Lesbia patted his hand. "You need not have troubled, dear. My father -and I got on very well together."</p> - -<p>"I did not know that, and so was anxious. I ferried over the river to -the towing-path, and walked down towards Marlow, intending to cross -the bridge and come here."</p> - -<p>"I was in bed at ten."</p> - -<p>"So soon. I thought you might be sitting up."</p> - -<p>"Well, I did not expect you, dear," explained the girl. "As Tim was -out on the river, and my father had gone away, I found it dull. I went -to bed because I could think of nothing else to do. Then I fancied I -heard you calling for help, and came down to find you gagged and -bound."</p> - -<p>"I did not call for help because I was gagged," said George, "and -almost insensible. I expect you were dreaming."</p> - -<p>"A very serviceable dream," said Lesbia drily. "Go on, George, -darling."</p> - -<p>"About half way between Medmenham and Marlow, while I was walking -along in the moonlight, I heard a soft step behind me, and turned to -see a man almost on top of me. I had not even time to see what he was -like, so quickly did he attack me. Aiming a blow at my head with a -bludgeon, he struck me hard, and I fell insensible on the path."</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"Then I woke to find you looking at me in this room. That's all."</p> - -<p>Lesbia examined her lover searchingly. He wore white flannel trousers, -a silk shirt, a white flannel coat, and brown shoes. His panama hat -was missing.</p> - -<p>Then Lesbia uttered an exclamation, and pointed to his pockets. All -these, both in coat and trousers, were turned inside out, and the -buttons of his shirt were undone, as though he had been searched to -the skin. "It's robbery," said Lesbia firmly.</p> - -<p>"Robbery! Impossible! Why should anyone rob a pauper like me? I have -nothing."</p> - -<p>"You have the crass!" murmured Tim, who was squatting on the floor, -and who looked like a goblin.</p> - -<p>"Tim." It was Lesbia who spoke. "Do you think that Mr. Walker was -attacked to get the amethyst cross?"</p> - -<p>"Faith, an' I can't say, Miss. But me mother--rest her sowl--towld me -that the crass brought bad luck, and it's come to Masther Garge here. -Maybe it's only talk, but there you are," and he pointed to the young -man.</p> - -<p>Walker reflected for a moment or so, while Lesbia turned over Tim's -explanation in her mind. "I daresay he is right," said George -pensively, "and you also, Lesbia. I was rendered insensible so that I -might be robbed, as is proved by my pockets being turned inside out. -As the only article of value I possessed was the cross, and I only -acquired that yesterday evening, I expect it was the cross this man -was after. If so, he must be very much disappointed, for I left your -gift in the drawer of my dressing-table, before I came to see you at -ten o'clock."</p> - -<p>"What was the man like?"</p> - -<p>"I told you that I only caught a glimpse of him," said Walker -fretfully, for the conversation wearied him. "He seemed to be a tall -man, and was roughly dressed. His soft hat was pulled over his eyes, -and--and I know, nothing more about him."</p> - -<p>Seeing that he was still weak, Lesbia stood up. "You can lie here on -the sofa and go to sleep," she said softly. "To-morrow morning we can -talk."</p> - -<p>"But I have to get to London by the eight o'clock train--the office!"</p> - -<p>"Bother the office!" said Lesbia inelegantly. "You are not fit to go -to the office. Try to sleep. Tim, give me that rug you brought. There, -dear," she tucked him in. "I have left a glass of water beside you. -Tim can come in every now and then to see how you are."</p> - -<p>"Augh," groaned Tim, yawning, "it's just as well, Miss. I cudn't slape -forty winks, wid blue murther about. But the masther will come back -after breakfast, an' what will we say at all, at all?"</p> - -<p>"Say," snapped Lesbia, who was at the door, looking extremely weary. -"Tell the truth, of course. My father will quite approve of what we -have done. George, don't talk to Tim, who is a chatterbox, but go to -sleep. You need all you can get, poor boy."</p> - -<p>George, already nearly asleep, murmured an incoherent reply and, -leaving Tim to watch over him, Lesbia returned to her room, but not to -sleep for at least an hour. Lying on her bed, she tried to fathom the -mystery of this assault upon her unoffending lover. Apparently the -cross had to do with the matter, as George had never been attacked -before. And then in a flash the girl remembered that her father was -desirous of regaining the ornament, and apparently, from the way in -which he had talked, was prepared to go to great lengths to get it. -Could it be that he had struck down her lover? He had been absent all -the evening, and would be absent all the night, at Sargent's Cookham -cottage, according to the message he had left with Tim. He did not -like Walker, and moreover was tall, as the assailant had been. It -really seemed as though Mr. Walter Hale had taken the law into his own -hands and, to get back his property, as he averred the cross to be, -had committed something uncommonly like highway robbery. Lesbia -worried over the problem half the night, as she could not believe that -her father would act so basely. Finally, towards dawn she fell into an -uneasy sleep.</p> - -<p>It was ten o'clock when she woke, and at once her thoughts reverted -to the late exciting event. No such sensational happening had ever -before disturbed the quietness of the riverside cottage, and the -mystery which environed it was an added fascination. As Lesbia slowly -dressed--and in her prettiest frock for the sake of George,--she again -wondered if her father was connected with the assault and the -attempted robbery.</p> - -<p>George could only have been attacked for the sake of the amethyst -cross, and her father alone--so far as she knew--desired that cross. -Yet if Mr. Hale was guilty, why had he brought his victim into his own -house? No one else could have brought George, for no one else could -have entered. Lesbia had no great love for her father, since he -invariably repelled all her proffers of affection; but she now felt -that she could actively hate him for his wickedness in so dealing with -the man she loved. And yet, as she reflected when she descended the -stairs, she could not be sure that her father was guilty, even in the -face of such evidence.</p> - -<p>When Lesbia entered the dining-room she found George quite his old -self. The night's rest had done him good, and a cold bath had -refreshed him greatly. With Tim's willing assistance he had made -himself presentable and, save for a linen bandage round his head, -looked much the same as he had done on the previous day. He came -forward swiftly with sparkling eyes, and took Lesbia in his arms, -murmuring soft and foolish words, after the way of lovers, even less -romantic.</p> - -<p>"Darling! Darling! Darling! How good you have been to me."</p> - -<p>"I could have done no less for anyone," replied Lesbia, leading him to -a chair. "Sit down, dearest, you are still weak."</p> - -<p>"On the contrary I am quite strong, although my head still aches a -trifle from that cowardly blow. Besides, I am hungry, and there is Tim -bringing in a magnificent breakfast. Sweetest and best," he went on, -leading her to the well-spread table, "this is just as if we were -married. You at the top of the table and I at the bottom. Give me a -cup of coffee, Lesbia, and I'll serve out the eggs and ham. Tim, you -needn't wait."</p> - -<p>Tim grumbled a trifle, as he loved to wait on Lesbia, But he was an -Irishman and appreciated a love affair. It did not need much -cleverness to see that young Walker wished to be alone with his -beloved, if only to enjoy the unique situation. Tim therefore departed -and the couple had their breakfast in heavenly solitude. Lesbia wished -to talk about the adventure on the towing-path, and to ask questions, -but George positively refused to speak of anything save the most -frivolous matters.</p> - -<p>"Your father will return soon," he explained, passing his cup for more -coffee, "and then I shall have to tell my story all over again. Let us -talk about ourselves and of our future."</p> - -<p>Lesbia, after a faint resistance, was only too pleased to obey, so -they had an extremely pleasant meal. The room was cheerful with the -summer sun, which poured in floods of light and warmth through the -windows, and the feeling of spring was still in the air. Most -prosaically they enjoyed their food and unromantically ate a large -breakfast, but all the time they kept looking at one another and -relishing the novel situation. It was brought to an end only too -speedily by the sudden entrance of Mr. Hale. Tall, lean, cold and -stern, he appeared on the threshold, and stared in surprise at the way -in which young Walker was taking possession, not only of his house but -of his daughter.</p> - -<p>"What the devil does this mean?" asked Hale, politely indignant.</p> - -<p>"Look at George's head," cried Lesbia with a shiver, for her doubts -returned fortyfold at the sight of her aristocratic father.</p> - -<p>"That explains nothing," said Hale drily, "perhaps, Mr. Walker, you -will undertake to tell me how it comes that I find you making yourself -at home in my poor abode?"</p> - -<p>George, who was perfectly cool and collected, told his story. Hale -listened, much more discomposed than he chose to appear, and at the -conclusion of the narrative asked one question, which showed where his -thoughts were.</p> - -<p>"The cross," he said eagerly, "have you been robbed of the cross?"</p> - -<p>"No," answered Walker positively, "although I believe that I was -attacked for the sake of it. But luckily I left it in the drawer of my -dressing-table. Can you guess who attacked me?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Hale coolly, "I cannot."</p> - -<p>"Still, if you know about the cross----"</p> - -<p>"I only know that it belonged to my wife and that I want to get it -back as soon as possible. Lesbia should never have given it to you. As -to your being attacked so that you might be robbed of it, I can't -believe that story. The cross, as a jewel, is not so very valuable. -Besides, no one but myself and Lesbia and Tim knew that you had it. I -presume," ended Hale, in his most sarcastic manner, "that you do not -suspect any one of us three."</p> - -<p>"Oh no," rejoined Walker promptly, and spoke as he believed in spite -of the troubled look which Lesbia cast on him. "Still----"</p> - -<p>Hale threw up his hand to interrupt. "We can talk of your adventure -later, Mr. Walker. After all, the cross may have something to do with -the way in which you were assaulted, although--as I said--it appears -unlikely. I want to recover it immediately, and am the more eager, now -that I have heard of your adventure. Give me a note to your mother -saying that the cross is to be given to me, and I shall consent to -your marriage with Lesbia."</p> - -<p>George looked at the girl, who nodded. "Let my father have back the -cross, since he so greatly desires it," she said. "I can give you -something else, dear. I am willing to pay that price for my father's -consent."</p> - -<p>George shrugged his shoulders. "It is immaterial to me," he said -calmly, "so long as you are pleased, dear. I only wished to keep the -ornament as your first love-gift to me. Have you a pencil, Mr. Hale. -Thank you."</p> - -<p>He scribbled a note. "To Jenny, our maid-servant," he explained, when -handing it to the tall, silent man, "she will admit you into my -bedroom and you will find the cross in the right-hand drawer of my -dressing-table."</p> - -<p>"But your mother----"</p> - -<p>"My mother went to London yesterday and will not be back until three -o'clock to-day. If you like to wait I can go over with you later."</p> - -<p>"No," said Hale brusquely, "your mother might make objections. I know -how difficult she is to deal with. I'll go myself: you stay here with -Lesbia."</p> - -<p>George was nothing loth, and when Mr. Hale departed he walked with his -beloved in the garden. They should have talked of the adventure, and -Lesbia should have told George the thought that was uppermost in her -mind--namely, that her father was cognisant of the assault. But she -did not care to make such an accusation upon insufficient grounds, and -moreover hesitated to accuse her father of such a crime. She therefore -willingly agreed to postpone all talk of the adventure until Mr. -Hale's return, and surrendered herself to the pleasure of the moment. -The lovers spent a long morning in the garden of love, gathering the -rosebuds which Herrick recommends should be culled in youth. Time flew -by on golden wings, and Hale was no sooner gone all the way to -Medmenham, than he seemed to come back. He could not have been away -for more than five minutes, as it appeared to these two enthralled by -Love. For them time had no existence.</p> - -<p>But their dream of love fled, when Hale came swiftly down the path -looking both angry and alarmed, and, indeed, perplexed. "The cross has -gone," he said.</p> - -<p>"Impossible," cried George, starting to his feet, astonished. "I left -it----"</p> - -<p>"The cross has gone," repeated Hale decisively, "your cottage has been -robbed, burgled. I repeat, the cross has gone."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> -<h5>A FAMILY HISTORY</h5> -<br> - -<p>After delivering his message of woe, Mr. Hale sat down on the garden -seat under the chestnut tree, and mechanically flicked the dust from -his neat brown shoes with a silk handkerchief. He was perfectly -arrayed as usual, and on account of the heat of the day wore a suit of -spotless drill, cool and clean-looking. But if his clothes were cool -he certainly was not, for his usually colourless face was flushed a -deep red and his eyes sparkled with anger. Lesbia, who had risen with -George, looked at him with compunction in her heart. After all--so her -thoughts ran--she had suspected her father wrongly. If he had attacked -George to regain this unlucky cross, he assuredly would not now be -lamenting its loss. And yet if he were innocent, who was guilty, -considering the few people who knew that the ornament was in -existence? Tim might--but it was impossible to suspect Tim Burke, who -was the soul of honesty.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Hale crossly, "what is to be done?"</p> - -<p>He looked directly at George, who faced him standing, with a look of -perplexity on his handsome face. "Are you sure that the house has been -robbed?" he asked doubtfully.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hale shrugged his shoulders. "I usually say what I mean," he -remarked acridly. "I took your note to Medmenham, and found the local -policeman conversing with your mother's servant. From her I learned -what had taken place, and, indeed, she was telling the constable when -I came up."</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"It seems," pursued Hale, producing a cigar, "that Jenny--as she is -called----"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes!" broke in Walker impatiently, "go on."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, Jenny rose this morning to find the window of the -drawing-room wide open. Nothing was touched in that room. But your -bedroom was ransacked thoroughly. Your clothes were strewn about, and -apparently every pocket had been examined. The drawers were opened, -and even the bed had been overhauled. There was no sign of the -burglar, and Jenny swears that--sleeping at the back of the house--she -heard nothing."</p> - -<p>"And what has been stolen?" asked Lesbia, hesitatingly.</p> - -<p>"Only the cross."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure?"</p> - -<p>"Absolutely! I gave Jenny the note and together with the policeman -who, by the way, is a bucolic idiot, she took me to the bedroom. I -examined the right-hand drawer which was open, as were all the other -drawers, and found that the cross was missing. Jenny declared that -nothing else had been taken. Of course the girl was in a great state -of alarm, as she was the sole person in the house, and she feared lest -she should be accused. Also, and very naturally, she was surprised at -your being away, Walker."</p> - -<p>George nodded. "I daresay. It is rarely that I sleep away from home, -and when I do I give notice. Humph!" he sat down on the grass opposite -Mr. Hale and gripped his ankles. "What do you think, sir?"</p> - -<p>Hale made a vague motion of despair. "What can I think? I know as much -as you do, and nothing more. Would you mind my putting you in the -witness-box, Walker?"</p> - -<p>"By no means. Ask what questions you desire."</p> - -<p>"And I shall be counsel for the defence," said Lesbia, sitting down -beside her lover with rather a wry smile. It appeared to her that Mr. -Hale wished to recall his offer to let the marriage take place: also -that he wished to get George into trouble if he could. But how he -proposed to do so the girl could not tell. However she was anxious and -listened with all her ears. Mr. Hale raised his eyebrows at her odd -speech, but took no further notice of it. He was too much interested -in his examination.</p> - -<p>"Lesbia," said Mr. Hale quietly, "gave you the cross yesterday evening -in my presence, so to speak. What did you do with it?"</p> - -<p>"I slipped it into my breast-pocket," said Walker promptly, "and rowed -back to Medmenham, as you saw. On arriving, I placed it for safety in -the drawer of my dressing-table. Then, later, as I explained at -breakfast, I came down to see Lesbia and was assaulted by an unknown -man."</p> - -<p>"Did you show the cross to anyone, say to Jenny?"</p> - -<p>"No. And if I had shown it to Jenny, it would not have mattered. You -do not suspect an honest girl like her, I presume."</p> - -<p>"Honest girls may yield to the temptation of stealing such a fine -ornament as the cross," said Hale drily. "However, it may set your -mind at rest if I say that I don't suspect Jenny. Had she stolen the -cross, she would not have had the imagination to upset the room and -leave the window open, so as to suggest burglary. But think again, -Walker; did you show the cross to anyone after leaving this garden?"</p> - -<p>"No," said George positively, "I certainly did not, that is, not -voluntarily."</p> - -<p>"Ah! then some one else did see it," said Hale, with satisfaction and -with marked eagerness. "Come, man, speak up."</p> - -<p>"I had almost forgotten," said Walker slowly. "Perhaps the blow on my -head made me forget; but I remember now."</p> - -<p>"Remember what?" asked Lesbia, as eager as her father.</p> - -<p>"That those gipsies saw the cross."</p> - -<p>"Gipsies?" Hale and his daughter glanced at one another.</p> - -<p>"Yes. I was walking up the lane to my home when I passed a gipsy -encampment. While doing so I pulled out my handkerchief, and the -cross--which I had placed in my breast-pocket--fell out. The -handkerchief twitched it, I suppose. It flashed down on the grass, and -the glitter caught the eye of a man lounging near the caravan. He came -forward and pointed out where it had fallen, as I had not noticed its -whereabouts for the moment. By the time I picked it up two or three of -the gipsies had gathered round, and saw me restore it to my pocket. -Then I thanked the man and went home."</p> - -<p>Lesbia clapped her hands. "Why it is perfectly plain," she cried, -delighted. "That man must have assaulted you on the towing-path to -steal the cross. Not finding it on you, he robbed the house. What do -you think, father?"</p> - -<p>Hale nodded. "I think as you do. So the best thing to be done will be -to come and see the constable, or the inspector here in Marlow. We -must have those gipsies searched before they go away. The encampment -was still there this morning; but I saw signs of removal."</p> - -<p>George leaped to his feet. "Yes, it must be so" he cried eagerly. "I -daresay the man robbed me--the cross being flamboyant is just the -thing which would attract him."</p> - -<p>"Then we must see the inspector. I must get the cross back. It is a -pity I remained at Cookham last night with Sargent. Had I been here, I -should have gone at once to Medmenham."</p> - -<p>"But it was midnight, father."</p> - -<p>"I don't care. The mere fact that Walker here was assaulted would have -proved to me that the cross was wanted. Since he left it at home the -thief would probably have burgled the house. I might have caught him -red-handed. Oh, why didn't I come home last night?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Hale was genuinely moved over the loss of the ornament. And yet -Lesbia could not think that it was mere sentimental attachment -thereto, as having belonged to his dead wife, that made him so -downcast. Also in itself the cross was of comparatively little value. -Lesbia's suspicions returned, and again she dismissed them as -unworthy. Moreover, if Hale had assaulted George and had committed a -burglary he would not be so eager to set the police on the track. -Whosoever was guilty he at least must be innocent. Cold as her father -was to her, and little affection as she bore him, it was agreeable to -find that he was honest--though, to be sure, every child expects to -find its parents above reproach. Perhaps a sixth sense told Lesbia -that her father was not all he should be. In no other way could she -guess how she came to be so ready to think ill of him. But up to the -present, she had suspected him wrongly, and so was pleased.</p> - -<p>Hale and young Walker went to the Marlow police-office and explained -in concert what had occurred. The officer in charge of the station -heard their tale unmoved, as it was nothing more exciting than a -robbery by a vagabond. He went with them personally to Medmenham, and -there met the village constable, who presented his report. This did -not include any reference to gipsies. His superior--whose name was -Parson--questioned him, and learned that the thief or thieves had left -no trace behind, and--on the evidence of Jenny the maid--had stolen -nothing save the cross. Parson then went to Mrs. Walker's house and -questioned the girl.</p> - -<p>Jenny was naturally much agitated, but was reassured by George, who -declared that no one suspected her. "I should think not, sir," she -cried, firing up and growing red. "I didn't even know that the cross -you speak of was in the house. You never showed it to me, sir."</p> - -<p>"No," acknowledged Walker truthfully, "I certainly did not."</p> - -<p>"Did you see any of those gipsies lurking about the house?" asked -Parson.</p> - -<p>"No," said Jenny positively, "I did not. Mr. George went out for a -walk at ten o'clock, and I lay down at half-past. I never knew -anything, or heard anything, or guessed anything. When I got up at -seven, as usual, and went to dust the drawing-room, I found the window -open. And that didn't scare me, as I thought Mr. George might have -opened it when he got up."</p> - -<p>"But you knew that he was not in the house?" said Hale alertly.</p> - -<p>"I never did, sir. I went to wake him after I found the drawing-room -window open, and found that he hadn't been to bed. The room was upset -too, just as you saw it. If I'd known that I was alone in the cottage -I should have been scared out of my life; but I thought Mr. George -came in late, and had gone to bed as usual. I nearly fainted, I can -tell you," cried Jenny tearfully. "Fancy a weak girl like me being -left alone with them horrid gipsies down the lane! But I slept through -it all, and I never saw no gipsies about. When I saw the bedroom upset -and that Mr. George wasn't there, I called in Quain the policeman. -That's all I know, and if missus does give me notice when she comes -back I'd have her know that I'm a respectable girl as doesn't rob -anyone."</p> - -<p>Jenny had much more to say on the subject, but all to no purpose; so -the three men went to the camp. They found the vagrants making -preparations to leave, and shortly were in the middle of what promised -to be a free fight. The gipsies were most indignant at being accused, -and but for a certain awe of the police would certainly have come to -blows with those who doubted their honesty. The man who had seen the -cross accounted for his movements on the previous night. He was in the -village public-house until eleven, so could not have assaulted Walker -on the towing-path, and afterwards was in bed in one of the caravans, -as was deposed to by his wife. In fact, every member of this -particular tribe--they were mostly Lovels from the New Forest--proved -that he or she had nothing to do with either the assault or burglary. -Finally, Parson, entirely beaten, departed with the other two men, and -the gipsies proceeded to move away in a high state of indignation.</p> - -<p>"Do you really think that they are innocent?" asked Hale, who surveyed -the procession of outgoing caravans with a frown.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I do," said Parson, who was not going to be taught his business -by any civilian.</p> - -<p>"So do I," struck in Walker. "All the men who saw the cross have -accounted for their whereabouts last night. They were not near my -mother's house, nor across the river on the towing-path."</p> - -<p>Hale smiled drily. He had no opinion of Walker's intelligence, or of -that which Mr. Parson possessed. "Rogues and vagabonds--as these -people are--stand by one another, and will swear to anything to keep -one of their number out of gaol. I don't put much faith in the various -alibis. You should have searched the caravans, officer."</p> - -<p>"And the men and women also, I suppose, sir," said Parson quietly. "I -had no warrant to do so, let me remind you. Even gipsies have their -privileges under the English law. Also, if anyone of these men were -guilty, he could easily have passed the cross to one of the women, or -buried it. I might have searched and found nothing, only to lay myself -open to a lecture from my superiors."</p> - -<p>"Still," began Hale, unwilling to surrender his point of view, "let me -remind you, Mr. Parson, that----"</p> - -<p>"And let me remind you, sir," broke in the officer stiffly, "that only -this ornament you speak of was stolen. If a gipsy had broken into the -house he would certainly have taken other things. And again, no gipsy -could have carried Mr. Walker into your parlour, seeing that not one -member of the tribe is aware of your existence, much less where your -cottage is situated. I am ignorant on that score myself."</p> - -<p>Having thus delivered himself with some anger, for the supercilious -demeanour of Hale irritated him, Parson strode away. He intimated -curtly to the two men, as he turned on his heel, that if he heard of -anything likely to elucidate the mystery he would communicate with -them: also he advised them if they found a clue to see him.</p> - -<p>Hale laughed at this last request. "I fancy I see myself placing the -case in the hands of such a numskull."</p> - -<p>George shook his head. "If you do not employ the police, who is to -look into the matter?" he asked gravely.</p> - -<p>The answer was unexpected.</p> - -<p>"You are," said Hale, coldly and decisively.</p> - -<p>George stopped--they were walking back to Marlow when this -conversation took place--and stared in amazement at his companion. -"Why, I am the very worst person in the world to help you," he said, -aghast.</p> - -<p>"To help yourself, you mean. Remember I promised to consent to your -marriage to Lesbia only on condition that I got back the cross."</p> - -<p>"It is not my fault that the cross is lost."</p> - -<p>"I never said that it was," retorted Hale, tartly. "All the same you -will have to find it and return it to me before I will agree to your -marriage with my daughter. It would have been much better had you -handed it over to me last night."</p> - -<p>"I daresay," said George, somewhat sulkily, "but I'm not the man to -give up anything when the demand is made in such a tone as you used. -Besides, I don't see how I can find the cross."</p> - -<p>"Please yourself, my boy. But unless you do, Lesbia marries Sargent."</p> - -<p>"Sargent!" The blood rushed to Walker's cheeks and his voice shook -with indignation. "Do you mean to say that you would give your -daughter to that broken rake, to that worn-out----</p> - -<p>"Ta! Ta! Ta!" said Hale, in an airy French fashion, and glad to see -the young man lose his temper. "Sargent is my very good friend and was -my brother officer when I was in the army. He would make Lesbia an -excellent husband, as he is handsome and well-off and amiable, -and----"</p> - -<p>"And an idiot, a gambler, and a----"</p> - -<p>"You'd better not let him hear you talk like that."</p> - -<p>Walker laughed. "I fear no one, let me tell you, Mr. Hale. Mr. Sargent -or Captain Sargent as he calls himself----"</p> - -<p>"He has every right to call himself so. He was a captain."</p> - -<p>"It is not usually thought good manners to continue the title after a -man has left the army," said George drily, and recovering his temper, -which he saw he should never have lost with a hardened man like Hale. -"You, for instance, do not call yourself----"</p> - -<p>"There! There! that's enough, Walker," cried the elder man -impatiently. "You know my terms. That cross and my consent: otherwise -Lesbia marries Sargent."</p> - -<p>"She loves me: she will never obey you," cried the lover desperately.</p> - -<p>"I shall find means to compel her consent," said Hale coldly. "Surely, -Mr. Walker, you have common sense at your age. Sargent has money and a -certain position you have neither."</p> - -<p>"I can make a position."</p> - -<p>"Then go and do so. When you are rich and highly-placed we can talk."</p> - -<p>Hale was as hard as iron and as cold. There seemed to be no chance of -getting what was wanted by appealing to his tender feelings, since he -had none whatsoever. But after swift reflection Walker thought of -something which might make the man change his mind.</p> - -<p>"Listen, Mr. Hale," he said, when Lesbia's father was on the point of -moving away from a conversation which he found unprofitable and -disagreeable. "I did not intend to tell you, but as my engagement with -Lesbia is at stake I will make a clean breast of it."</p> - -<p>Hale wheeled round with a cold light in his eyes. "Are you going to -confess that you stole the cross and got up a comedy to hide the -theft?"</p> - -<p>George laughed. "I am not clever enough for that. But it is about a -possible fortune that I wish to speak--one that may come to me through -my mother."</p> - -<p>"A fortune." Hale flushed, for only the mention of money could touch -his hard nature. "I never knew that your mother had money."</p> - -<p>"She has not now, but she may have."</p> - -<p>"Go on," said Hale, seeing that the young man hesitated, and watching -him with glittering eyes. "I have known your mother for years, but she -never told me either that she had money or expected any."</p> - -<p>"I should not tell you either," said Walker bluntly, "and so I -hesitated. I have no business to interfere with my mother's affairs. -However, I must speak since I want to marry Lesbia."</p> - -<p>"I am all attention."</p> - -<p>"My grandfather left his large fortune equally divided between his two -daughters. One was my mother; and her husband, my father, ran through -the lot, leaving her only a trifle to live on. I help to keep her."</p> - -<p>"This," said Hale coldly, "I already know."</p> - -<p>"But what you don't know is that my aunt--my mother's sister, that is, -ran away with some unknown person during her father's lifetime. He was -angry, but forgave her on his death-bed and left her a fair share of -the money--that is half. As my mother inherited fifty thousand, there -is an equal amount in the hands of Mr. Simon Jabez, a lawyer in -Lincoln's Inn Fields, waiting for my aunt should she ever come back."</p> - -<p>"And if she does not?" asked Hale anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Then, if her death can be proved, the money comes to my mother."</p> - -<p>"Humph! But you say your aunt ran away with someone--to marry the man, -I suppose. What if there is a child?"</p> - -<p>Walker's face fell. "The child inherits," he said softly.</p> - -<p>Hale laughed harshly. "You have found a mare's nest," he said coolly, -"and I see no reason to change my decision with regard to your -possible marriage with Lesbia. Your aunt may be alive and may appear -to claim the money. If she is dead, her child or children may come -forward. On the other hand, if your mother does come in for the fifty -thousand pounds you speak of she is, as I know, a hard woman."</p> - -<p>"I agree with you," said the young man, moodily and sadly. "She -is as hard as you are, Mr. Hale. But if she inherits my grandfather's -money--that is, my aunt's share--she has no one to leave it to but me. -I am an only child."</p> - -<p>"Your mother," said Hale deliberately, "is hard as you say; that is, -she is as sensible as I am. If you marry against her will, she will -not leave you one farthing of this money, which, after all, may never -come into her possession."</p> - -<p>"But why should she object to Lesbia?" asked George, "when she meets -her and sees how lovely she is----"</p> - -<p>"Bah!" Hale looked scornful, "you talk like a fool. As if any woman -was ever moved by the beauty of another woman. Besides, your mother -hates me; we are old enemies, and rather than see you marry my -daughter she would go to your funeral with joy. If you married against -her will--as you assuredly would in making Lesbia your wife--she would -leave you nothing. And I also dislike the match on account of your -mother."</p> - -<p>"But why are you her enemy, and she yours?" asked George, bewildered.</p> - -<p>"That is a long story and one which I do not intend to relate unless -driven to speak. If Lesbia marries you she will lose two thousand a -year which I can give her when I die. If you want to drag the girl you -love down to poverty, Mr. Walker, then marry her secretly. I tell you -that if you make Lesbia your wife neither I nor your mother will help -you."</p> - -<p>"And yet you said----"</p> - -<p>"That you could make Lesbia your wife, if you found the cross. Yes, I -did say that, and I still say it. If you get me the cross, you shall -marry her and have the two thousand a year when I die. But it would be -wiser for you to leave Lesbia alone and marry----"</p> - -<p>"Marry whom?" asked George, his cheeks flaming.</p> - -<p>"Maud Ellis," retorted Hale with a sneering laugh, and turned away.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CHAPTER V</a></h4> -<h5>MRS. WALKER'S OPINION</h5> -<br> - -<p>After that one extraordinary adventure which broke so remarkably the -monotony of George Walker's life, things went very smoothly for a -time. That is, they progressed in their usual humdrum way, which was -trying to the young man's ambitious spirits. He wanted to marry -Lesbia, to make a home for her, to attain a position, which her beauty -would adorn; and he saw no means of doing so. He went regularly to the -office, earned his small salary, and dreamed dreams which could never -be realised, at least, there appeared to be no chance of realisation. -What could a man of moderate attainments, with no money and no -friends, hope to do in the way of cutting a figure in the world?</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker duly returned home, and Jenny gave her a highly-coloured -account of the burglary, which she heard in stern silence. She was a -tall, grim woman with a hard face and a stiff manner, and was -invariably arrayed in plain black gowns devoid of any trimming -whatever. Her hair, still dark in spite of her age, was smoothed over -her temples in the plain early Victorian manner, and her pale -countenance was as smooth as that of a young girl. That she was a -gentlewoman could easily be seen, but her manner was repellent and -suspicious. Also, her thin lips and hard grey eyes did not invite -sympathy. How such a Puritanical person ever came to have a handsome, -gracious son such as George, perplexed more than one person. The -general opinion was that he inherited his looks and his charm of -manner from his late father. Report credited the Honourable Aylmer -Walker with more fascination than principle. And truth to tell, his -posthumous reputation was better than that which he had enjoyed when -living.</p> - -<p>Having ascertained the facts of the burglary and the loss of the -amethyst cross, Mrs. Walker held her peace, and did not discuss the -subject with her son. George, indeed, ventured upon a lame -explanation, which she received in dead silence. After the hint given -by Mr. Hale, the young man was not desirous of disclosing his -engagement to Lesbia, and a discussion about the stolen cross would -inevitably lead to the truth becoming known to Mrs. Walker. Sooner or -later he knew that he would have to speak, but he postponed doing so -until he could see his future more clearly. If he could only procure a -better post in the City, he could then afford to keep Lesbia in -comparative comfort, and pass a love-in-a-cottage existence. But until -he was in a position to do so, he avoided confiding in his mother. -Also, Mrs. Walker was not a sympathetic mother, and would certainly -not have encouraged the young man's love-dream.</p> - -<p>But one evening Mrs. Walker unexpectedly broached the subject at -dinner. This was seven days after the adventure of the cross, and -during that time George had never set eyes on Lesbia. Several times he -had rowed as usual to the garden's foot, but had waited in vain for -the girl's appearance. An inquiry at the house provoked no response, -as neither Tim nor Lesbia came to the fast-closed door. George in -despair had written, but to his anxious letter had received no reply. -Lesbia remained silent and the cottage barred and bolted, so George -began to believe that Hale had smuggled away his daughter, lest she -should elope with the lover of whom he so strongly disapproved. This -state of uncertainty wore Walker's nerves thin, and he lost his -appetite and his night's rest. Mechanically he went to Tait's office, -did his daily work, and returned home again, fretting all the time -after the girl who was beyond his reach. He even tried to see Mr. -Hale, but that gentleman was conspicuous by his absence. Never was a -lover in so dismal a situation.</p> - -<p>On this especial evening George, in evening dress, faced his silent -mother at the dinner-table. Mrs. Walker wore a plain black silk gown, -perfectly cut, but wholly unadorned. Like Mr. Hale, she always -insisted upon a certain style being observed and dined, so to speak, -in state. The tiny room was well furnished with the remnants of her -former prosperity, and looked like the abode of a gentlewoman. Nothing -could have been more perfect than the table appointments and, if the -food was plain, the way in which it was served left nothing to be -desired. Jenny, neatly dressed, waited deftly and, at the conclusion -of the dinner, placed a decanter of port before George, along with a -silver box of cigarettes and a dainty silver spirit lamp.</p> - -<p>As a rule, Mrs. Walker withdrew at this moment to enjoy her coffee in -the drawing-room, while George sipped his wine and trifled with a -cigarette, but on this occasion she remained. "You can bring my coffee -here," she said to Jenny, in her unemotional voice.</p> - -<p>George wondered at this departure from the usual routine, for his -mother had never broken the domestic rule she had instituted as far -back as he could remember. However, he did not feel called upon to say -anything but poured out a glass of port, and lighted a cigarette. When -Mrs. Walker obtained her coffee, and Jenny had departed, she spoke to -her son through the gathering twilight.</p> - -<p>"I have received a letter from Mr. Hale," said Mrs. Walker in her -coldest voice, and sat bolt upright with her eyes on the comely blonde -face of her son.</p> - -<p>"What!" George flushed and started, and laughed nervously. "That is -very strange," he said after a pause, "Mr. Hale has never written to -you before."</p> - -<p>"There are reasons why he should not have written to me before, as -there are reasons why he writes to me now."</p> - -<p>"May I know those reasons?" asked George quietly, but inwardly -anxious.</p> - -<p>"Certainly!" Mrs. Walker was disagreeable but excessively polite, as -she never forgot her manners, whatever the provocation. "In fact, I -have waited to explain them. But I think you had better tell me your -story first."</p> - -<p>"What story?"</p> - -<p>"That of your engagement to Lesbia Hale, and of the cross which was -stolen from this cottage."</p> - -<p>"What!" George rose restlessly and grew redder than ever. "You -know----"</p> - -<p>"I know everything," said his mother imperiously. "Mr. Hale is annoyed -by the way in which you are haunting his Marlow cottage, and has asked -me to use my influence with you to stop the annoyance."</p> - -<p>"That is quite likely," rejoined George, fuming, "but I decline to -give up Lesbia. Mr. Hale knows that."</p> - -<p>"He knows, apparently, that you are obstinate and foolish," said Mrs. -Walker in a chilly manner. "And as your infatuation--for it is nothing -else--can lead to nothing, I must ask you to stop these hopeless -visits."</p> - -<p>"Mother, if you knew Lesbia----"</p> - -<p>"I know that Lesbia is the daughter of a man whom I despise and hate," -said Mrs. Walker, moved to cold anger, "and my son shall never marry -her."</p> - -<p>"You have not the power to stop the marriage," said George quietly.</p> - -<p>"That is quite true. I have no money to threaten disinheritance, and -no legal power over a man who is of age. I might indeed appeal to your -affection, but I fear that it would be useless."</p> - -<p>George flung his cigarette out of the window, and thrust his hands -moodily into his pockets. "Affection is a strange word to use between -us, mother," he remarked bitterly. "You have always been strict and -straightforward, and painfully polite. You have given me a good -education, and you have instructed me in good manners. My home," he -looked round, "or rather your home, you permit me to share."</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, George, you forget that you contribute to the domestic -economy of this home, such as it is. Go on."</p> - -<p>"I mean," cried George desperately, for her manner chilled him, "that -you have never been a mother to me in the accepted sense of the word."</p> - -<p>"I have done my duty," said Mrs. Walker without flinching.</p> - -<p>"Duty! duty! what is duty when I wanted love? I have lived in a -freezing atmosphere which has nearly changed me into a statue. Can you -wonder that I sought out someone to love?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps not, since you are young and foolish, but I regret that the -someone should be a girl that I cannot possibly receive as my -daughter-in-law."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by that?" demanded George sharply.</p> - -<p>"Nothing detrimental to the girl," replied Mrs. Walker calmly. "She -may have all the beauty in the world, and all the virtues, and -probably has, in your eyes, but she is Walter Hale's daughter and so -cannot be mine."</p> - -<p>"Why do you hate Mr. Hale, mother?"</p> - -<p>"That," said Mrs. Walker, sitting very upright, "is my private -business."</p> - -<p>"But when it interferes with my happiness----"</p> - -<p>"I cannot help that," she said rigorously. "What is past is past, and -what is dead is dead."</p> - -<p>"I don't understand you."</p> - -<p>"I do not mean that you should. But I would point out that your -association with this girl, has already led you into danger. You have -been assaulted and robbed, and have come into contact with the police, -which is always undesirable. Renounce Lesbia, George, lest worse -befall."</p> - -<p>"The robbery and the assault are mysteries."</p> - -<p>"None the less they are dangerous. I can explain no more than you can; -but Mr. Hale is a dangerous person, to my knowledge, and----"</p> - -<p>"Tell me what you know," interpolated her son.</p> - -<p>"No," said Mrs. Walker, with iron determination. "It would do no good -to break the silence of years. All I can say is that you shall never -marry the girl with my consent."</p> - -<p>"And if I do without it," chafed George, irritably. "Then you will -never set eyes on me again," returned Mrs. Walker quietly.</p> - -<p>"Mother!"</p> - -<p>The woman calmly finished her coffee and rose noiselessly. "The time -may come when I can explain," she said in her precise voice. -"Meanwhile I can only command you, or implore you--whichever you -please--to leave this girl alone and go no more to the Marlow -cottage."</p> - -<p>"I don't see why I should obey you blindly," cried George angrily. "At -least give me a reason for your objection to Lesbia."</p> - -<p>"I have given it: she is the daughter of Walter Hale."</p> - -<p>"And are the sins of the father--whatever they may be--to be visited -upon the child, mother?"</p> - -<p>"Quoting the Bible will not alter my determination," said Mrs. Walker, -absolutely cold and impassive. "You must do as I request or be -prepared to see me no more."</p> - -<p>"Mother, can you not explain about this mysterious cross----"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"You refuse to."</p> - -<p>"I mean that I cannot. I know nothing about the cross, or about the -assault made on you, or indeed about the burglary. All I do know is -that Mr. Hale is a dangerous man, and is connected with dangerous -people--what has occurred proves it."</p> - -<p>"But surely you don't think that Mr. Hale is connected with these -mysteries?"</p> - -<p>"I think nothing because I know nothing!" She moved swiftly forward -and placed a slim hand on her son's broad shoulder. "Be wise and give -up this girl. The wife who is waiting for you will suit you better."</p> - -<p>George grew crimson. "The wife!" he stammered.</p> - -<p>"Maud Ellis! Mr. Tait's niece. She loves you, and she has told me so. -If you marry her she will bring you money, and her uncle will forward -your interests. To-morrow you are stopping for the week-end at Mr. -Tait's house. Before you return here on Monday ask Maud to be your -wife."</p> - -<p>"I shall do nothing of the sort," said George fiercely. "How can I -propose to one girl, when I love another?"</p> - -<p>"Maud Ellis adores you, George."</p> - -<p>"I know she does: it seems conceited to say so, but I am quite aware -of her adoration. And I don't like it. She is rich and handsome and -all the rest of it, and a marriage with her, means my getting on in -the office. All the same, I--I--I--" he hesitated, then finished his -sentence with a rush, "I love Lesbia, so there is no more to be said."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker removed her hand and glided to the door again, her cold -self. "I quite agree with you," she said, exasperatingly cool. -"However, you know my determination. Act as you please."</p> - -<p>"And affection?" called out George as she opened the door.</p> - -<p>"Must give way to commonsense."</p> - -<p>When alone, the young man dropped into a chair and looked moodily at -the disordered dinner-table. He was very much to be pitied for having -such a mother. Of a warm affectionate nature, George hungered for some -object upon which to expend his love. Mrs. Walker had always been a -granite image, unapproachable and chill. No doubt she was fond of her -handsome son in her own cold way, but she had never given him the -maternal love he craved for. It was small wonder that the boy had gone -afield to find some satisfaction for his craving. Lesbia supplied the -want, and on her side found the same joy as her lover in their mutual -affection. Mr. Hale in his way was as cold and repellent to her as -Mrs. Walker was to her son. Yet these two people, not giving the -longed-for love themselves to their children, were trying to rob -hungry hearts of spiritual sustenance--a dog-in-a-manger attitude -which did not commend itself to George.</p> - -<p>He felt that he and Lesbia were severely alone, conscious only of each -other and environed by mysteries, which neither could understand. Mr. -Hale could explain, and so could Mrs. Walker, but no explanation was -volunteered, and George did not know where to look for an elucidation -of their several attitudes. Mrs. Walker certainly professed herself -ignorant of the amethyst cross mystery, and apparently spoke truly, as -her dislike to the match with Lesbia appeared to be wholly based upon -her hatred of Walter Hale. And that hatred had to do with Hale's past, -of which George knew as little as he did of the past of his mother. -But Hale knew something about the cross, which accounted for his -extraordinary behaviour, although he declared that he did not know who -had stolen it. George was also greatly perplexed to know who had taken -him to the Marlow cottage while he was insensible. Sitting in the -chair with his eyes on the ground, he frowningly perplexed himself -with these problems. It was all of no use, so he brushed aside the -troubles and, after changing his evening dress for boating flannels, -went to the river. He hoped by exercise to rid himself of these -phantoms, so indistinct and yet so real.</p> - -<p>Having launched his boat and settled to work, George spun down the -stream, the current and his own efforts carrying him along with what -appeared to be lightning speed. The attention required in looking -after the slight craft prevented his thinking of his mysterious -troubles, and his spirits began to rise. At Henley lock his course was -stayed, for as he swung into the gates he became aware that another -boat was in the lock, and that Tim occupied that same strange shallop.</p> - -<p>The two men recognised one another at once, and a very natural -question leaped to Walker's lips.</p> - -<p>"Lesbia?" he gasped.</p> - -<p>"Thrue for ye," grumbled Tim, who looked more misshapen that ever in -the dim light. "It's from the young mistress I come. Whist now, sor, -an' let me clear out av this divil of a place."</p> - -<p>George backed his boat out of the lock and Tim muttering under his -breath, followed closely. Then the little man paddled his clumsy craft -into the near bank, and beckoned George to come also. In a few minutes -the two boats were amongst the rustling sedges side by side, and -Walker waited breathlessly for Tim to speak.</p> - -<p>The sky was filling with shadows, but there was sufficient light for -George to see that Tim looked both sorrowful and worried. The sight of -the dwarfs sad face revived his terrors.</p> - -<p>"Lesbia," cried George again, and gripped Tim's arm fiercely. "She is -well?"</p> - -<p>"Well in body but sick of heart," said Tim dismally. "Augh, the poor -mistress, and how can she be well wid the divil's divarsions bein' -played round her?"</p> - -<p>"I have tried to see her----"</p> - -<p>"Divil a doubt of it, sor. And ye've sint letthers likewise."</p> - -<p>"She never answered," breathed George sadly.</p> - -<p>"An' how cud she whin she nivir recaved thim same. Answer me that now, -sor."</p> - -<p>George sat bolt upright in his boat. "Never got my letters! Then -how----"</p> - -<p>"Ah, be aisy now, me dear young masther," pleaded Tim, and took a tiny -note from his pocket. "This was all the mistress cud write, being -watched like a mouse, an' by a cat too, divil take the slut."</p> - -<p>George scarcely heard what Tim was saying. He was devouring two or -three lines of Lesbia's dear writing, which stated that she would -always be true to him, and that Tim would reveal all.</p> - -<p>"Reveal what," cried the young man, kissing the letter before -transferring it to his pocket.</p> - -<p>"The divil's divarsions," grumbled Tim. "Write an answer, sor."</p> - -<p>"I have no pencil, no paper," said George in dismay. "But tell me -exactly what has occurred, Tim, and then I'll see what can be done."</p> - -<p>Tim nodded. "Sure, it's dying for you she is, me dear sor. The masther -wants her to marry the Captain, bad luck to his sowl!"</p> - -<p>"I know that, but----"</p> - -<p>"Howld yer whist, sor," growled the little man, flinging up his long -arm. "I have mighty little time to spake. The masther doesn't trust -me, forby he knows I wish to see me dear mistress happy wid you, sor, -so he's got a she-divil in the house, Mrs. Petty by name, who kapes a -watch inside. Thin there's Captain Sargent's man. The Shadow they call -him for his thin looks, though Canning is his name, bad luck to it. He -watches outside, an' whin your boat comes in sight he passes the worrd -to Mrs. Petty an' she--may the father av lies fly away wid her--shuts -Miss Lesbia in her room."</p> - -<p>"But this is tyranny!" cried George, exasperated. "Do you mean to say -that Mr. Hale has his daughter watched in this manner?"</p> - -<p>"Ay an' I do, and he'll have her watched till she goes to church wid -Captain Sargent, or until ye git back that crass. But nivir fear, sor, -Miss Lesbia has a fine spirit of her own, and she'll stick to ye -through thick an' thin, like the brave young lady she is."</p> - -<p>"What's to be done?" asked George, in dismay.</p> - -<p>Tim leaned forward. "Write a bit av a letther and sind it to me, -Mister Timothy Burke, Rose Cottage, Marlow. Thim two divils, Mrs. -Petty an' The Shadow, to say nothin' av the masther, won't stop that. -Thin I'll find means to pass it to the mistress."</p> - -<p>"Yes! Yes, Tim. I'll do that. But the tyranny----"</p> - -<p>"Whist now, for time passes, me dear sor. I heard the masther sayin' -that Captain Sargent was goin' to stay wid Mr. Tait at Hinley. Spake -to him, sor, to that same Captain."</p> - -<p>"But what can I say?" demanded George, more and more perplexed.</p> - -<p>"Sor," cried Tim gruffly, "as ye're a man ye can break the head of the -divil." And with this advice Tim pushed his boat again into midstream.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> -<h5>PURPLE AND FINE LINEN</h5> -<br> - -<p>Mr. Michael Tait dealt principally in stocks and shares, but was not -above any scheme, however wild or however shady, which promised to -result in large profits. His motto was: "Make money honestly if you -can, but make money!" and he consistently acted up to this advice -throughout a long career of speculation. He was not so much a spider -sitting in a web to lure unwary flies, as an octopus who stretched out -tentacles in every direction to draw victims into his maw. He indulged -in dozens of enterprises, both openly and secretly, but all with the -aim of making as much cash as possible. That many of these schemes led -to much misery, that is, the misery of other people, he never stopped -to inquire. And even if he had done so he would have taken no note of -the answer. The race was to the swift and the battle to the strong, in -Mr. Tait's humble opinion, and those who failed either in fighting or -running had to make the best of their plight.</p> - -<p>In appearance Michael Tait was a squat, burly, sturdy man, with sandy -hair and whiskers, and a pair of cold blue eyes devoid of all -sympathy. He dressed expensively, wore a profusion of jewellery, and -was rarely without an excellent cigar sticking out of his mouth. For -the sake of luring his victims he cultivated a jolly, free and easy -manner, and exhibited an external good nature which deceived many. To -quote Tennyson's cutting line, he "snake-like slimed his victim e'er -he gorged," and acted the Pharisee by largely advertising his -charities. He was looked upon generally as a good fellow, rough, but -really kind-hearted, and possessed of a true Christian spirit. As a -matter of fact, Mr. Tait knew very little of Christ and His teaching, -and would not have subscribed to it, save by word of mouth, had he -been aware of its spirit. But he passed as a good man, because he went -to church and talked largely of helping the poor.</p> - -<p>This prop of British commerce, as he was wrongly described by a too -ardent reporter, possessed a regal country house at Henley, where he -entertained largely. Also he had chambers in town, but these he only -used on rare occasions when business or pleasure prevented him seeking -his true home. Mrs. Tait had mercifully passed away many years -previously, under the delusion that Michael was a good man, and the -Henley mansion was managed by Maud Ellis, who was the stockbroker's -niece.</p> - -<p>Miss Ellis was a young lady of five-and-twenty, certainly not -bad-looking, although she could not be described as beautiful. Like -her respectable uncle, she was of the sandy type, but, unlike him, she -possessed a tall, full figure, finely-shaped. As she always dressed in -exquisite taste, and had a personality of the semi-hypnotic kind, she -was regarded as a desirable woman. The fact that she was her uncle's -heiress also may have had something to do with this opinion. Maud was -extremely cunning, and as selfish in her way as Michael was in his. He -sought money, she admiration, and they did very well in their efforts -to attract both. And it was this clever young woman who had chosen to -fall in love with George Walker.</p> - -<p>Of course she knew that he was a bad match, that he did not love her, -and that as his wife she would hold no very exalted position. But the -fact was that the girl, after playing with various suitors, like the -princess of a fairy tale, with no serious intentions, had been snared -herself. Whether it was Walker's good looks, or his kind heart, or his -charm of manner, it is impossible to say; perhaps one of the three, -perhaps the three together: but Miss Ellis assuredly was violently in -love with the young man. Having arrived at the conclusion that life -would be miserable without him, she set to work to make him propose, -thinking that she would have small difficulty.</p> - -<p>To her surprise, however, George proved to be quite impervious to her -sparkling conversation and clever display of her somewhat limited -charms. He was polite to her and nothing more, although she made her -uncle ask him again and again to the palace at Henley. This conduct -piqued Miss Ellis, but did not altogether displease her, as it gave -her an opportunity of exercising her talent for intrigue.</p> - -<p>From a mere fancy, her passion deepened to ardent love, and she swore -mentally that by hook or by crook she would force the young fellow to -make her Mrs. Walker. Rarely a week passed without George being asked -to Henley, and Maud did her best to subjugate him. But George being in -love with Lesbia had a very strong shield to oppose to her love darts, -and managed to avoid the amorous pitfalls she spread for him. For six -months the chase of this unwilling victim had been going on, and as -the quarry always dodged just as the huntress was on the verge of -capture, this middle-class Diana concluded that there was another -woman in the case. With a view to learning the truth, she watched and -made stealthy inquiries, so that she speedily learned of George's -infatuation--so she called it--for Lesbia Hale. To detach him from -Lesbia became the object of her life, and it was she who suggested to -Mr. Hale that Lesbia might profitably marry Captain Alfred Sargent.</p> - -<p>As Hale approved of Maud's cleverness, and was frequently indebted to -her for getting what he wanted from Tait, he did his best to fall in -with her plans, the more so, as he did not care whom his daughter -married, provided it was to his interest.</p> - -<p>Maud promised, if the marriage was brought about, to interest her -uncle in a wild-cat scheme of Hale's contrivance. So the loving father -did his best--as has been seen--to force his child into the arms of a -man she loathed. George knew nothing of all this intrigue, and kept -away from the Henley mansion as much as he could without openly -offending his employer. But when he heard from Tim that Captain -Sargent was to be a member of the Saturday to Monday house-party, he -determined to accept this latest invitation. An interview with Sargent -might clear the air of all these mysteries, and George--hating the -ex-captain--was not averse from breaking his head as Tim had advised, -if there was no other way of releasing Lesbia. Also George fancied -that Mr. Hale--a frequent visitor--might be enjoying Mr. Tait's -hospitality, in which case he could speak to him and remonstrate about -this tyranny to which Lesbia was subjected.</p> - -<p>When George arrived in time for afternoon tea on Saturday, he found -that his own hopes and those of Tim were realised--that is, both -Walter Hale and Captain Sargent were present. Hale looked as lean and -grim and smart as ever, while greeting the flushed young man with the -air of a perfect stranger. Maud, who presided at a dainty tea-table, -saw that flush, and from the juxtaposition of Hale guessed its reason. -She was therefore none too pleased, but veiling her annoyance with a -sweet smile, she called the new arrival over to her side, and poured -him out a cup of tea.</p> - -<p>"You are quite a stranger, Mr. Walker," she said graciously, devouring -him with her cold, grey eyes, which only lighted up when they rested -on his face.</p> - -<p>"I was here three weeks ago," said George politely, and accepting -cake. "It would rather bore Mr. Tait if I came here oftener."</p> - -<p>"It would never bore me," breathed Miss Ellis, "and my uncle is always -very glad to see you. He looks upon you almost as his son."</p> - -<p>George flushed again and looked awkward. "It is very kind of Mr. -Tait," he remarked coldly, "seeing that I am only a clerk in his -office."</p> - -<p>"Uncle was only a clerk once," said Maud, smiling. "And look what he -is now, Mr. Walker. Some day you will be like him."</p> - -<p>"I don't think so," said George, looking across to the stout, -ungraceful form of the successful stockbroker, who was being waited -upon hand and foot by two society ladies of the smart set, anxious to -secure tips.</p> - -<p>Maud took his remark in its wrong sense. "Oh, you must hope," she -declared playfully. "With influence," she spoke meaningly, "you will -do much."</p> - -<p>"I have no influence," returned the young man coldly.</p> - -<p>"That is your own fault," retorted Miss Ellis. "The tide of fortune is -flowing past your door, and you will not launch your boat."</p> - -<p>"I am waiting for a passenger," said Walker, thinking of Lesbia.</p> - -<p>Jealous and cunning as she was, Maud was quite taken in for the -moment, and smiled graciously. She fancied that he referred to her. -"You need not wait long," she hinted.</p> - -<p>George found the situation intolerable, and on the spur of the moment, -although it was neither the time nor the place to be confidential, he -spoke out. There should be no further misunderstandings if he could -help it. "My waiting depends upon Mr. Hale," he said bluntly.</p> - -<p>Maud bit her thin lip, and leaned back, with an artificial laugh. -Inwardly she was furious, as she now knew that his remark had referred -to "that girl," as she contemptuously called Lesbia. But she was too -much the woman of the world to reveal her feelings and, moreover, -utilised his observation to learn as much of the truth as possible.</p> - -<p>"Ah," she said archly, "a little bird told me that Mr. Hale has a -beautiful daughter. But I understood that she was engaged to Captain -Sargent."</p> - -<p>"She is engaged to me," flashed out George, quite forgetting that he -was speaking to a jealous woman.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Miss Ellis again, controlling her countenance with -difficulty; "the course of true love is not running smoothly. Poor Mr. -Walker, I must help you to gain your wife."</p> - -<p>"You!" blurted out George like a fool.</p> - -<p>Maud sat up and erected her crest like a snake. "Yes, I," she said -haughtily, anxious only for the moment to save her womanly pride. "Why -should I not help a friend? I look on you almost as a brother."</p> - -<p>Still like a fool, George believed her, and indeed her indignant -manner would have deceived a much cleverer man. He was very young and -very green, and in Maud's designing hands could be moulded like wax.</p> - -<p>She could have struck him in the face for the insult he had offered -her, but hiding her rage under a friendly smile, she laid her plans to -entrap him beyond hope of escape. "I shall get Mr. Hale to bring his -daughter here," she said quietly, "and then you can talk to her at -your leisure."</p> - -<p>"Oh, how good you are," cried George delightedly. "I am sure you will -love Lesbia: she is so beautiful and charming--as you are," he added -with an afterthought.</p> - -<p>Again the impulse came to Maud to strike him, and again her worldly -training came to her aid. "Hush!" she said softly, "you will make -Captain Sargent jealous. I believe he overheard."</p> - -<p>"I don't care if he did," said Walker defiantly.</p> - -<p>"Then I do," retorted Miss Ellis, who could not resist paying him out -a trifle, much as she loved him. "I don't want you to quarrel here. -Now go and talk to Captain Sargent while I receive these new people."</p> - -<p>Several ladies and two gentlemen entered at the moment, and she went -forward to greet them, followed by her uncle. George left the chair he -had occupied near the tea-table, and strolled across the room--not to -Sargent, but to interview Mr. Hale.</p> - -<p>That gentleman saw him coming, and moved away from the person to whom -he was speaking, in order to find a secluded corner. He saw that his -would-be son-in-law was coming to converse with him, and guessing the -subject of his conversation, wished to settle the matter without -scandal. George, as he surmised, was too frank to be diplomatic, and -if within the hearing of others, might say too much. But he need not -have been afraid. George, having been schooled in social usages, by -his mother, was perfectly capable of acting as a well-bred man.</p> - -<p>"I have called twice or thrice to see Lesbia," said George, sinking -his voice to a judicious whisper, "but I have not been successful."</p> - -<p>"That is as it should be," rejoined Mr. Hale coldly. "I do not wish -her to see you, and I have taken steps to prevent her from seeing -you."</p> - -<p>It was on the point of George's tongue to say that he knew what -precautions had been taken, but to speak openly would lead to the -betrayal of Tim, which was not to be thought of. However, he was as -blunt as he dared to be. "It is tyranny to keep a young girl shut up," -he snapped angrily.</p> - -<p>"You are the cause of her seclusion," retorted the elder man, "and as -her father I have a right to act as I please."</p> - -<p>"There are law and order in this country," said Walker heatedly, and -would have continued to speak with vehemence, but that Hale prevented -him.</p> - -<p>"You are right, and I take advantage of such law and order to prevent -my daughter from marrying a man I disapprove of."</p> - -<p>"Why do you object to me?"</p> - -<p>"We discussed that before and I gave you my answer. Also, if you will -remember, I gave you a chance of having things your own way. It is my -desire that Lesbia should marry my friend Sargent, but if you will -recover that lost cross for me, I will permit her marriage with you."</p> - -<p>"I can't find the cross," growled George sullenly.</p> - -<p>"Then you can't marry Lesbia," replied Hale, very distinctly, "and as -you are forcing me to curtail Lesbia's liberty by haunting the house, -I must ask you, in her interests if not in mine, to discontinue your -persecution."</p> - -<p>George looked at the cold grim face before him, very straightly. "I -love Lesbia, and I intend to marry Lesbia," he said quietly. -"Therefore I shall do all in my power to see Lesbia. As to Captain -Sargent----"</p> - -<p>"Hullo!" remarked that gentleman, who was strolling--perhaps -purposely--within ear-shot. "What about Captain Sargent?"</p> - -<p>He was a slim, thin, delicate-looking man of the -mutton-dressed-as-lamb type, that is, he did not look his age, and -affected a pronouncedly juvenile fashion, a trifle over-done. His -collars were too high, his ties were too brilliant, and his clothes -were aggressively new. To look at his array he might have just left an -army-crammer's, and had apparently stopped short at "the young -lieutenant" epoch, which is the era of the male peacock. As to his -looks, these were of the colourless faded type; his face was pale, his -eyes were pale, and his hair--what there was of it--was also pale. In -fact, Sargent looked like a sheet of paper prepared for sketching, and -could have painted upon the background of himself any character he -wished to represent, provided it was not a strong one. The contrast -between his washed out personality and young Walker's vivid virility -was most marked.</p> - -<p>"What about Captain Sargent?" repeated this product of civilisation, a -trifle more aggressively since George hesitated to speak. "Finish what -you have to say, Mr. Walker."</p> - -<p>"Certainly," replied the younger man coolly. "I am the more willing, -as Mr. Hale is present. In a word, Captain Sargent, I love Miss Lesbia -Hale, and I intend to marry her. You wish to make her your wife, and I -do not intend to let you have your way."</p> - -<p>"All that in a word," sneered the captain, with a disagreeable look in -his pale grey eyes.</p> - -<p>"Yes. In a word to the wise."</p> - -<p>"And suppose I am not wise?"</p> - -<p>"It matters very little to me if you are wise or not," retorted -George, who was not to be put down by sneers. "Lesbia is to marry me, -so that is all about it."</p> - -<p>Sargent glanced at Mr. Hale, who was quite unruffled. "I presume her -father's wish counts for something?"</p> - -<p>"Not when it conflicts with her happiness."</p> - -<p>"What do you say, Hale?"</p> - -<p>"I have said all that I intend to say. Walker knows my views."</p> - -<p>"He does," broke in George, "and he does not subscribe to them. I give -you warning that I intend to marry Lesbia. As to you, sir," he turned -so fiercely on Sargent that the man gave back a step. "If you make -Lesbia unhappy, or bother her in any way, I shall make myself very -unpleasant."</p> - -<p>"Dear me!" sneered the captain in feigned alarm. "What a terrible -Turk!"</p> - -<p>George stared coldly at his rival, and deliberately turned on his heel -without speaking further. He had declared open war, and he was pleased -that he had done so. Now--with a clear conscience--he could haunt the -Marlow cottage and see Lesbia and woo Lesbia and carry off Lesbia, -without feeling that he was acting otherwise than as a gentleman and -an ardent lover. "Damn the fellow!" breathed Sargent, who had reddened -under Walker's contemptuous gaze. "What's to be done, Hale?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," rejoined that gentleman sternly. "If you find that cross, -you can marry Lesbia; if Walker finds it, he can make her his wife."</p> - -<p>It was a pity that George did not overhear this speech. He would have -been interested to hear that Sargent also was seeking for the -mysterious ornament to which Hale appeared to attach such value. The -captain looked at his friend curiously. "Why do you want this cross so -much?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"That's my business. What you have to do is to find it;" and in his -turn Mr. Hale went away, leaving Sargent caressing his moustache in -some perplexity.</p> - -<p>Presently, everyone went to dinner, which was a banquet delicately -cooked and splendidly served. Tait was quite devoted to the pleasures -of the table, and paid his chef a large salary. The food was perfect -and the wines flowed freely, so that by the time the guests repaired -to the drawing-room, everyone was in the best of spirits. The -house-party was a large one, as there were about twenty people -present, and not one of these would have been acceptable in a Sunday -school. There were ladies belonging to the smart set, perfectly -respectable from a worldly point of view, but who cared for nothing -save bridge and dress, flirtation and pleasure. There were also men, -some with titles, and many with brains of the speculative money-making -order.</p> - -<p>Tait was not entirely in society, but by reason of his wealth and -public position as a philanthropist hovered on the fringe of it. He -helped social butterflies to make money on the Stock Exchange, lent -sums large and small to ladies who could advance him in Mayfair and -Belgravian circles, and was always open to consider any scheme which -promised to bring in cash. Thus his house-parties were composed of a -heterogeneous mass of people, good or bad, titled and untitled, gay -and grave. But a general air of restlessness prevailed, and in that -splendid mansion one and all appeared to dance along a golden road, -which doubtless led to the Pit, and were personally conducted by the -cunning, self-indulgent, worldly old stockbroker, who might have -passed as Mammon in the flesh.</p> - -<p>After dinner, the party split up into sections. Some ardent gamblers -sat down to bridge; a few restless spirits went to dance, and a group -gathered round a young man at the piano who sang the latest comic -songs.</p> - -<p>There was plenty of champagne, together with cigars and cigarettes of -the best, so the fun waxed fast and furious, and as the hours drew on -to midnight everyone grew more or less excited. Within bounds, of -course, as Maud Ellis was too clever to permit the Henley palace to -earn a name for Neronian extravagance. The entertainment just paused -on the verge of an orgy; but under Maud's skilful management did not -over-step the mark.</p> - -<p>That young lady had been watching George all the night although she -did not speak to him again. Towards twelve o'clock, she found herself -near him, and rallied him on his pensive air. "Don Quixote in love," -she said in an airy manner.</p> - -<p>Then she lowered her voice impressively. "Meet me in the -picture-gallery at three o'clock," she said, "for Lesbia's sake."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> -<h5>AFTER MIDNIGHT</h5> -<br> - -<p>Had George been more of a man of the world he would have wholly -mistrusted Maud, and would have declined her invitation to meet him in -the picture-gallery in the small hours of Sunday morning. It would not -have been credited by a judge of human nature that one woman would -make such an appointment with the man she loved to plead the cause of -her rival, or to give a helping hand to bring about a marriage which -was dead against the feelings of her heart. But George, in spite of -his years and virile looks, was an unsophisticated man, who could -not guess what was below the surface. He was a kind of society -tender-foot, and perhaps this in some measure constituted his charm in -the eyes of Miss Ellis, who had experience enough to fit out a dozen -men and at least two women. At all events, although he wondered that -her liking for him--as he termed it--had lapsed so suddenly, yet he -determined to keep the appointment and to listen to any scheme which -she might propose, likely to accomplish the marriage with Lesbia. In -this way are strong men twisted to feminine purposes by women, and -from Samson downwards no man has been sufficiently cunning to get the -better of his Delilah. There was therefore some excuse for George.</p> - -<p>His attention was drawn from his own thoughts by a lively discussion -going on between Mr. Tait and three or four ladies, with a sprinkling -of men. As it was now long after midnight some people had retired to -bed, and others were preparing to follow. But Tait was a night bird -who liked to stay up as long as possible--probably because, as a -robber of widows and orphans, his pillow must have had its thorns. To -entertain those guests who remained wakeful, and especially the -feminine portion thereof, he mentioned that he had lately come into -possession of some wonderful jewels which a famous, or rather -infamous, <i>demi-mondaine</i> of Paris had sold. Of course, the ladies -were more than anxious to see these gems, both on account of their -beauty and value and because of the celebrity of their former owner. -They one and all clamoured for a sight of them, and as Mr. Tait had -purposely stimulated their curiosity to keep them from retiring, he -was not unwilling to gratify their wish. He therefore led the way to -the picture-gallery, and pointed out a small narrow door at the end of -it.</p> - -<p>"There is my safe," he said proudly, "or rather my strong-room."</p> - -<p>"Queer place for a safe," drawled Sargent, with a shrug.</p> - -<p>"And for that reason the safer. We are all friends here," Tait glanced -round graciously, and looked more like a Silenus than ever, "so I do -not mind revealing the whereabouts of twenty thousand pounds' worth of -jewels. But no thief would dream that my safe was here. And even if he -did," added the stockbroker, drawing out his watch-chain, "the safe -cannot be opened save by this key."</p> - -<p>"But it might be broken open," George ventured to remark.</p> - -<p>Tait laughed in a jolly manner. "It would take the cleverest thief in -London to break into my safe, and there are only two keys to open it. -I have one on my watch-chain, and Maud, my niece, has the other."</p> - -<p>The guests looked at one another. Had not Tait been flushed with wine -and excitement he would not have been thus free in his speech, and he -was not a man who talked at large as a rule. But the lateness of the -hour, the presence of many people, the lights, the music, the -gambling, the wine, and the chatter had unloosened his usually -cautious tongue. Maud frowned when her uncle spoke so rashly, as she -thought that he was a fool to do so. Certainly there was no one -present who would have broken open the safe, since everyone was -respectable, even if--as the word goes--rackety! All the same the -revelation of the whereabouts of the safe and the information so -guilelessly supplied was risky, to say the least of it. Miss Ellis -shook her head at her venturesome uncle.</p> - -<p>"Don't say too much," she remarked in a low voice, "even this safe may -not be strong enough to withstand a burglar of the new school."</p> - -<p>"Well, I don't care," cried the stockbroker recklessly, inserting his -key into the lock, "my jewels are insured. Come, ladies, you can all -feast your eyes, and--as I have bought the gems to sell them again--I -am open to an offer."</p> - -<p>He said this jokingly, yet meant to sell if he could. Some of the -guests drew back rather annoyed, as they thought that Mr. Tait was -going too far in importing City manners into his house-party. Maud, -ever watchful, again whispered to her uncle, but he shook her off, and -entered the strong-room--now open--to bring out the jewels. When the -box which contained them was placed on a near table, and the contents -were displayed, all thought of Tait's bad manners disappeared in -amazement and delight at the sight of the precious stones.</p> - -<p>These were truly beautiful. Many were set in tiaras, bracelets, rings, -chains, lockets and in various ornaments for the hair and corsage. But -other stones lay loose and glittering, to be arranged and used as -required. There were diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds and many -inferior gems, the whole forming a dazzling heap, which made every -mouth water with avarice. But for Tait's estimate, those present--and -some were good judges of jewels--would have deemed the radiant pile -worth twice the amount mentioned.</p> - -<p>"Try them on, ladies," said the genial stockbroker. "Try them on. We -are all friends here!" and he placed a tiara on the head of his niece, -who stood near with a frown on her face. She began to think that her -uncle was crazy to display his wealth in this reckless manner.</p> - -<p>In a few moments some of the female guests were glittering with -jewels, and surveying themselves delightedly in hand-mirrors which had -been brought by Tait's order. The stockbroker himself, with a cynical -smile, looked at their avaricious faces, and listened with sneering -pleasure to the delighted little screams which they gave at intervals.</p> - -<p>Jewels have a much greater effect on women than on men, and there was -not a woman present but would have gone great lengths for the sake of -possessing even one of the ornaments. Gretchen was not the only woman -who could be lured by the glitter of gems, which is so much superior -to the mere gleam of gold. And Tait, amidst this splendour, looked -more like Mammon than ever.</p> - -<p>But this early-hours-of-the-morning pleasure came to an end in fifteen -minutes, and the ladies, taking off the jewels, restored them to their -owner. Tait was really glad to get them back, and counted them -carefully, for the look in the eyes of some of the ladies actually -frightened him, and he half thought that they would run away with the -treasures. However, he made sure that every one of the ornaments had -been given back, and replaced them in the box, which he deposited in -the safe. After that, the guests went to bed, and the gallery, with -the strong-room carefully locked, was left in silence and darkness. -But the sleep of many was disturbed by the thought of that Nibelung's -treasure, so near at hand, and yet so impossible to obtain.</p> - -<p>George was indifferent to the gems, as he thought that Lesbia's eyes -were brighter and much more beautiful. He left the gallery while Tait -was displaying his hoard, and retired to the very comfortable bedroom -which Maud's care had provided. As a mere clerk he should not have had -such luxurious surroundings, or, indeed, have been in the splendid -house at all; but she loved him, and could not do enough for him. -Therefore, George was housed like a king, and, after the manner of -youth, took his comforts easily. It never occurred to him that in his -humble position he had no right to be pampered and petted. By right of -good looks and delightful manners, he had hitherto gone through the -world very much spoiled by the fair sex. He therefore took everything -as his right.</p> - -<p>While waiting for three to strike from the stable clock--it was now -two--he seated himself before the fire and, lighting a pipe, gave -himself up to dreams of Lesbia. In one way or another he was -determined to make her his wife, but it was difficult to see how he -proposed to keep her on his small salary, particularly when much of -that same salary was required to support his mother.</p> - -<p>But that George indulged in the rosy dreams of youth and had such a -profound belief in the kindness of fortune, he would have dismissed -his proposed marriage as an impossibility. Hale was against it, and so -was Sargent: his mother did not approve of the marriage, and there was -Maud Ellis to be considered. A more hopeful man may well have been -despondent: but not George. He felt sure that everything would come -right, and that life was a fairy-tale in which the fated prince--who -was himself--carried off the lovely princess--who, of course, was -Lesbia. And she was in an enchanted castle--so he glorified Rose -Cottage--watched by two dragons, Canning and Mrs. Petty--but helped -also by a faithful dwarf, by name Tim Burke. Finally, there was Mr. -Hale as the wicked magician to be reckoned with, and perhaps Maud -might act as the malignant fairy; but somehow the marriage would be -brought about, and in some way sufficient money would be provided, so -that the prince and princess could live happily ever afterwards.</p> - -<p>Lesbia would not have thought in this comfortable fashion in the face -of such obstacles as barred the way to the altar: but then she was -much more practical than her lover, in spite of the fact that she -dwelt in seclusion, while he battled in the work-a-day world.</p> - -<p>And then, as George fondly imagined he had discovered a few hours -previously, Maud Ellis was not the wicked fairy after all. Rather was -she about to play the agreeable part of the fairy-godmother, and bring -together two lovers parted by adverse circumstances.</p> - -<p>When Maud afterwards thought of the trust George placed in her she -wondered at his folly, and had a contempt for his upright character -that could estimate human nature so highly. But George never doubted -for one moment but that the appointment was made in all good faith and -for the express purpose of helping his suit with Lesbia. He therefore -waited impatiently for the striking of the clock. Only once did it -cross his mind as odd that Maud should choose that hour and that -meeting-place to forward his interests, since she could easily have -spoken to him in a convenient place and at a becoming hour in the -morning. But he brushed this thought aside as unworthy of her kind -heart, and when the hour of three chimed out, he opened his door -softly and slipped out to keep his appointment.</p> - -<p>George had stayed so frequently at the Henley mansion that he knew his -way to the picture-gallery exceedingly well. Also, it was Mr. Tait's -hobby to have the corridors and many of the rooms lighted in a subdued -manner all night. It prevented burglary, he declared, and certainly -the sight of an illuminated house would daunt those who prefer to work -in darkness or only by the light of a bull's-eye.</p> - -<p>George, therefore, found himself in a soft glow when he emerged from -the bedroom and stole on tip-toe towards the head of the stairs. Here -he descended and took his way towards the back of the house to the -picture-gallery. This portion of the great mansion was not lighted, -which seemed odd, remembering what Mr. Tait said about light scaring -burglars, and seeing also that the safe was placed here. But whatever -was the stockbroker's whim, George found the long gallery in darkness, -and as he had entered by a door placed directly in the middle of it, -he halted there doubtfully. He could see no light, save what filtered -through the sky-lights, and did not know where Maud waited for him. At -the far end of the gallery were double glass doors, leading down steps -into the gardens. These were usually shuttered at night, but George -noted with some surprise by the gleam of starlight which came through -them that on this special night the shutters had not been put up. This -was strange, considering the valuables which were concealed in the -safe; but then, as the young man reflected, it was also strange that -Tait should place his treasure-house at the other end of the gimcrack -gallery, which could be so easily broken into. But, after all, on -the authority of Poe's tale of the Purloined Letter, the more unlikely -a place in which valuables are hidden the safer they are. Not one of -the London fraternity of thieves would believe that the wary -stockbroker would be so foolish as to place his safe or strong-room, -or treasure-house, or whatever he liked to call it, in such a -locality. Therefore, no creature of the night would come to rob. There -was considerable method in Tait's apparent madness after all.</p> - -<p>But George had scanty time for such reflections, as the hours were -swiftly moving towards dawn, and he yet had to converse with Maud. His -eyes grew more accustomed to the semi-darkness of the gallery, and he -glanced up and down to see if he could espy the darker form of the -girl.</p> - -<p>At this moment he heard the clink of metal upon metal. The sound came -from the direction of the strong-room, and, as he turned his gaze -thereto, he suddenly saw a vivid stream of light, proceeding -apparently from a bull's-eye. In a flash it struck him that the -strong-room was being burgled, and almost without thinking he uttered -a loud cry and sprang forward to lay hands on the thieves.</p> - -<p>The light disappeared as he raced up, and when within measurable -distance of the safe he stumbled over a body, motionless on the floor. -It was that of a woman, as Walker could tell by the draperies he -mechanically clutched in his fall. Before he could pick himself up, -two dark forms dashed past him towards the glass doors. George, -anxious only to lay hands on the thieves, ran down the gallery at -their heels and left the woman where she was. The intruders easily -opened the double doors, which evidently had been left ajar.</p> - -<p>George followed, and saw two men race across the lawn and into the -belt of trees which girdled Mr. Tait's mansion. As he increased his -speed he shouted loudly for assistance.</p> - -<p>By and by, lights were seen moving in the upper windows of the great -house, and into the corridors poured many guests and servants, all in -various stages of undress, and all scared by the midnight alarm. Tait, -with a dressing-gown thrown hastily over his burly form, pushed his -way through the throng down the stairs, and the guests streamed after -him. Everyone knew what was the matter, for a wakeful servant had -heard the shout of "Thieves!" and the ominous word had hastily passed -from lip to lip.</p> - -<p>"I expect my jewels are gone!" panted Tait, waddling towards the -gallery at the head of a picturesque mob.</p> - -<p>In a second the electric lights were turned on and the gallery blazed -with light. Tait uttered a cry of alarm, which was echoed by those -behind him, and there was cause for surprise. The door of the -strong-room stood wide open, and some distance away lay the insensible -body of Maud Ellis, dressed in the attire she had worn during the -previous evening. While some of the ladies attended to the girl, Tait -with surprising agility plunged into the strong-room, and then they -heard him bellow bull-like in mingled rage and astonishment. A moment -later he emerged.</p> - -<p>"The jewels are gone! the jewels are gone!" he shouted, purple with -wrath. "Here, some of you, go to Henley for the police; search the -grounds, examine the house, and----"</p> - -<p>"The doors are open, sir," cried a footman.</p> - -<p>"The thieves must have escaped. After them! after them!" bellowed -Tait, in a frenzy of rage.</p> - -<p>"Your niece, man, your niece," said a gentleman who was supporting the -unconscious Miss Ellis; but Tait only swore the more.</p> - -<p>"Confound my niece. I have lost twenty thousand pounds' worth of -jewels."</p> - -<p>Several people looked disgusted at this callousness. A young doctor, -who was stopping in the house, and who was feeling Maud's pulse, -looked up. "Miss Ellis has been chloroformed," he remarked quietly.</p> - -<p>Tait bent down and lightly touched the gold chain which was round the -girl's neck. "The key of the strong-room is gone," he cried furiously.</p> - -<p>"No doubt," explained the medical man. "Miss Ellis has been rendered -insensible and then was robbed of the key. But who----"</p> - -<p>"How did Maud come to be here at this hour?" demanded Tait savagely. -"Go for the police, some of you," he shouted, stamping furiously. "I'm -not going to lose a fortune in this way."</p> - -<p>"It's useless; the thieves have escaped," cried a voice at the end of -the gallery, and George bounded in at the open door.</p> - -<p>"Walker," cried the stockbroker, recoiling. "What are you doing here? -What do you know about this?"</p> - -<p>"I came downstairs and heard the thieves at work," explained George -quickly. "I tried to lay hands on them, but tumbled over the body of a -woman on the floor, and----"</p> - -<p>"It is Miss Ellis," said the young doctor, looking up. "Do you know -how she came to be here?"</p> - -<p>George hesitated. He could not--for the sake of Maud's reputation--say -that she had appointed a meeting with him, and did not know how to -explain.</p> - -<p>Tait noted his momentary hesitation, and turned on him furiously. "How -do you come to be here?" he demanded. "What makes you wander about my -house when everyone is in bed?"</p> - -<p>"Ah," said Mr. Hale, pushing his way through the frightened crowd, -"that is very suspicious. Speak out, Walker!"</p> - -<p>"I heard a noise and came down," cried George, making the first excuse -which entered his head.</p> - -<p>"No one else heard a noise," remarked Sargent, who was at Tait's -elbow.</p> - -<p>"I was wakeful," retorted Walker sharply; but on every hand he saw -incredulous looks, and realised with a chill that he was suspected.</p> - -<p>Tait grunted, and looked at the young man with a lowering brow. "Who -are the thieves?" he demanded. "How many of them are there?"</p> - -<p>"I saw two men, but could not catch a glimpse of their faces. I think -they were masked," said George readily, and again saw disbelief -written on the faces around him. "But may I suggest, Mr. Tait, that -you send for the police at once. The thieves made for the wood round -the house and may escape."</p> - -<p>"I daresay they have escaped," grunted Tait, savagely. "The servants -are searching the gardens. Meanwhile let us revive Maud, and hear what -she has to say."</p> - -<p>"She is coming round now," said the doctor, and even as he spoke, Maud -opened her eyes in a vague, unseeing way.</p> - -<p>"Carry her up to bed," said Tait harshly. "I'll have an inquiry made -into this as soon as dawn comes and the police arrive. Meanwhile you -can all retire. Mr. Walker, remain here and explain."</p> - -<p>"I have explained," said George proudly. "I have nothing more to add."</p> - -<p>Tait shook his head doubtfully, and whispers went round, which -indicated suspicion of the truth of Walker's explanation. By this time -Maud, more or less sensible, was on her feet. Her eyes wandered here -and there until they alighted on the young man.</p> - -<p>"You!" cried Miss Ellis, with a loud wail. "Oh, George, you!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> -<h5>UNDER A CLOUD</h5> -<br> - -<p>There was very little sleep for anyone during the remaining hours of -darkness, and after breakfast--an unusually dismal meal--the guests -one and all showed a desire to get away from their host.</p> - -<p>Mr. Tait certainly was not amiable, since he had suffered so great a -loss, and growled like a bear with a sore head. Not being a gentleman, -he could not control his temper, and made himself so openly -disagreeable, that everyone wanted to leave forthwith. But until the -police had made inquiries, it was impossible for either man or woman -to depart without becoming suspected.</p> - -<p>Throughout that wretched Sunday, the men were miserable and the ladies -hysterical. Tait, no longer the jolly Silenus, or even the gracious -Mammon, moved amongst his friends with looks of suspicion for all.</p> - -<p>The police duly arrived, and searched the gardens and the house, but -in no way could they trace the thieves. George stuck persistently to -his story, which, of course, was true, save for the excuse which he -gave for coming down the stairs. And it was this false portion--this -weak subterfuge--which made Mr. Tait suspicious. He knew that George -was hard up, and said as much to him in a quiet corner.</p> - -<p>"What has my being a pauper to do with your loss?" demanded Walker, -firing up on the instant.</p> - -<p>Tait shook his bullet head and scowled with his little pig eyes. "My -jewels are worth twenty thousand pounds," he retorted.</p> - -<p>"I don't care if they are worth twenty millions," said George, turning -pale, for he realised his employer's meaning. "I know nothing about -them."</p> - -<p>"You were in the gallery when----"</p> - -<p>"I came down to the gallery because I heard a noise," interrupted -Walker furiously. "I told the police the story I told you. I did my -best to catch the thieves, and now you have the audacity to accuse -me."</p> - -<p>"I don't exactly accuse you----"</p> - -<p>"It looks very like it."</p> - -<p>"You must admit that your conduct is suspicious," protested the -stockbroker.</p> - -<p>"I admit nothing of the sort."</p> - -<p>"People don't wander about a house after everyone is in bed, without a -reason," snapped Tait, with a searching glance.</p> - -<p>George bore the scrutiny without flinching. "I have explained how I -came to be wandering about," he declared proudly. "I was sitting by my -fire, and on hearing a suspicious noise I came down, with what result -you know. How dare you accuse me?"</p> - -<p>"I tell you again that I don't accuse you," vociferated Tait crossly. -"But you have acted foolishly to say the least of it."</p> - -<p>"How else could I have acted?"</p> - -<p>"On hearing the noise you should have aroused me."</p> - -<p>"Had I done so I should not have been in time to see the thieves."</p> - -<p>"What good did you do by seeing them, since they have escaped? That -is," added Tait slowly, "if there were two men. Stop!" he threw up his -fat hand as the young man was about to speak angrily; "it is no use -going round the bush. You may be innocent or you may not be. Your -story may be true or it may be the reverse."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Tait"--George held his temper under by mere force of will--"why -should I rob you?"</p> - -<p>The stockbroker opened his pig's eyes. "Why!" he demanded in -amazement, "do I not know that you are desperately poor? Didn't -Hale tell me only the other day that you wanted to marry his daughter, -and could not do so for want of money? Oh, there are plenty of reasons -why you should take twenty thousand pounds' worth of jewels. They -can be unset and sold, in which case they will be difficult to -trace. Had they been bank-notes, I don't believe that this -burglary--so-called--would have taken place."</p> - -<p>George curled his lip. "You put things very clearly, sir," he said -quietly, "and on the face of it, I admit that my conduct looks a -trifle suspicious."</p> - -<p>"A trifle!" cried Tait scornfully. "Very good indeed. A trifle! Why -not admit that you came down to steal the jewels, and went out to bury -them in some safe place, returning, when the alarm was given, to tell -us this cock-and-bull story of two thieves?"</p> - -<p>George winced and grew white at this very plain speaking. But he kept -his temper, for to have lost it at the moment would have been -dangerous. He saw very well that he was in a tight place.</p> - -<p>"I ask you only one question, Mr. Tait," he said calmly. "Who gave the -alarm?"</p> - -<p>"I do not know," said the stockbroker sullenly. "I heard a cry of -thieves, and help, and blue murder, and came down to find everyone -else aroused."</p> - -<p>"Then I may tell you that I gave the alarm, sir."</p> - -<p>"<i>You</i> say so," sneered the other.</p> - -<p>"I say so because it is true," rejoined Walker, throwing back his head -indignantly. "I shouted in the gallery when I saw the light, and I -cried out again when I followed the thieves. I lost them when they -bolted into the wood girdling this place. Now, I ask you, sir, would I -have given the alarm had I been guilty?"</p> - -<p>"No--<i>if</i> you gave the alarm, that is. But I don't believe you did."</p> - -<p>"In other words you think that I am guilty?"</p> - -<p>"Upon my word, Walker, it looks very much like it."</p> - -<p>"Then why not hand me over to the police?"</p> - -<p>The stockbroker moved uneasily and wiped his damp, red face. "Your -mother is an old friend of mine," he said hesitatingly; "I think of -her."</p> - -<p>"That is very good of you," said the ungrateful George; "but I would -rather you believed in my innocence. I have no wish to hide myself -behind any woman's petticoats."</p> - -<p>"Not even behind Maud's?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what you are talking about," said George stolidly, -determined to hold his peace about the lady even to her uncle. "Miss -Ellis and I are very good friends, nothing more."</p> - -<p>"You know that she loves you. I should never have asked a mere clerk -from my office here, but that she loved you. I disapproved of her -infatuation, but I gave in to her since I am your mother's friend."</p> - -<p>"You are slightly incoherent, sir, and entirely wrong. Miss Ellis and -I are friends; nothing more. And to return to the subject of the -burglary, may I remind you that the police have discovered that the -safe was not broken into, but that the door was opened with a key? The -key, I notice, is still on your watch-chain. How then could I have -opened the safe?"</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you think that I stole the jewels myself?" sneered Tait -coolly. "I may remind you, in my turn, that Maud also has a key."</p> - -<p>George sprang to his feet and clenched his hand. "You dare to -insinuate that I got it from Miss Ellis, and----"</p> - -<p>The door opened as he spoke, and Tait, who was facing it, glanced over -the young man's shoulder. "Here is Maud for herself. Perhaps she will -explain."</p> - -<p>It was indeed Miss Ellis, looking very white and pinched. Her eyes -were red-rimmed, her mouth was drooping, and she confessed to a -headache, which was not to be wondered at, seeing what she had gone -through.</p> - -<p>"That chloroform is horrible stuff," complained Maud, sinking into a -chair.</p> - -<p>"Have you seen the inspector?" said Tait, giving his niece very little -sympathy for her wan looks.</p> - -<p>"Yes; I have told him all I know."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you will repeat what you have told him to your uncle, Miss -Ellis," remarked Walker, still standing very stiff and very proudly. -"He has accused me of getting the key from you to rob the strong-room, -and swears that I have buried the jewels somewhere in the garden."</p> - -<p>"That is absurd," said Maud, looking at her uncle, while a red spot of -colour burned on either pale cheek. "I don't believe that you have -anything to do with the matter."</p> - -<p>"Then what did you mean by addressing Walker as you did, when you -revived in the gallery?" demanded Mr. Tait sharply.</p> - -<p>"I simply said, 'Oh, George, you!'" said the girl quietly; "and that -because I felt glad he was there to help me."</p> - -<p>"He didn't help you in the least," remarked Tait grimly.</p> - -<p>"He would have had I asked him," she retorted. "Would you not, Mr. -Walker?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly."</p> - -<p>"It's not George this time, then," muttered the stockbroker. "Well, -Maud, perhaps you will tell me what you were doing in the gallery."</p> - -<p>Maud's eyes sought those of the man she loved, but she replied without -hesitation. "I'll tell you what I did not tell the police, uncle. The -inspector believes that I came down because I heard a noise."</p> - -<p>"Like Walker here."</p> - -<p>"He did not come down for that reason."</p> - -<p>Tait looked at George with triumph in his eye. "I thought not," he -said.</p> - -<p>"If he said that he did, he said so to shield me," pursued Miss Ellis, -and looked gratefully at the confused young man.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by that, Maud?" asked Tait tartly.</p> - -<p>"I made an appointment with George in the picture-gallery at three in -the morning, as I wished to help him to marry Lesbia Hale."</p> - -<p>"Why, I thought you loved Walker yourself!" cried the astonished -stockbroker.</p> - -<p>"So I did--so I do," breathed Miss Ellis, drooping her sandy head. -"But, to my mind, love means sacrifice. George--for I have the right -to call him so now--George would not have been happy with me, as he -loved Lesbia Hale, so I arranged to give him up to her, and to make -things right with her father. For that reason I waited for him in the -gallery. There I was suddenly pounced upon, and a handkerchief soaked -in chloroform was clapped over my mouth. I daresay the person who -did it, stole the key from the chain round my neck, and opened the -strong-room to steal the jewels. But I knew nothing from the moment I -became insensible until I revived to find you all standing round me. -That is the story I have told the inspector, save that I kept quiet my -appointment with George."</p> - -<p>"Then you believe him to be innocent," said the stockbroker, -confounded by the frankness of this story.</p> - -<p>Maud arose indignantly. "The man I love can never be guilty," she -cried.</p> - -<p>George blushed a rosy red. He saw that he had not behaved over well to -this brave girl, who had so cleverly exonerated him, although he -really had no reason to accuse himself of duplicity towards her. But -in a confused way he felt that she was heaping coals of fire on his -head, and was more drawn to her than he had ever been before. Here, -indeed, was a friend worth having. With Lesbia as his wife and Maud as -his friend, life would indeed be joyous.</p> - -<p>In his innocence it never struck the young man that no male can drive, -either in double harness or in tandem fashion, two women who both love -him. He thought that Maud, having discovered that the true meaning of -love was sacrifice, behaved thus because of her newly-acquired -knowledge. "Thank you, Miss Ellis," he said simply, but his looks -implied volumes more.</p> - -<p>Tait was displeased. He had no grudge against George, whom he liked -well enough; but he did not like his solution of the mystery to be -thus upset.</p> - -<p>"You mean well, Maud," he said at length, "and you have shielded -Walker very cleverly. All the same, I cannot accept your explanation."</p> - -<p>Miss Ellis rose in alarm. "Uncle, do you mean that you will have Mr. -Walker arrested when you know that he is innocent?"</p> - -<p>"For his mother's sake I shall not do that," said the elder man; "but -if Mr. Walker will give back the jewels I will not dismiss him from my -office."</p> - -<p>"I have no jewels to give," cried George recklessly, and his face -flushed a deep red. "As to remaining in your office, do you think that -I would continue to serve a man who suspects me of such a wicked -crime? I shall never return to your office, Mr. Tait, nor shall I -re-enter your house until my innocence is made clear. If the police -arrest me----"</p> - -<p>"They will not do that," interrupted Maud quickly; "I promise you. -There is no evidence against you. I don't know who chloroformed me, -but you are innocent, I swear. My uncle will take no steps."</p> - -<p>"For Mrs. Walker's sake," interpolated the stockbroker unctuously.</p> - -<p>"So you can leave this house when you will," continued Maud, -"knowing--" she seized his hand--"that I at least, believe you -guiltless."</p> - -<p>"Thank you!" said George, and kissed her hand. "Mr. Tait, if you and -the police want me you know where to find me." And he stalked out of -the room with his head in the air. Maud Ellis looked after him with -hungry looks, and heaved a deep sigh when the door closed.</p> - -<p>Within the hour George had asked permission of the inspector to leave -the house, and obtained it. Whatever the guests believed, the police -apparently--thanks to Maud's report--accepted him as a wholly -guiltless person. He gave his address to the officer, so that he might -be called as a witness in the event of the thieves being brought to -book, and then shook the dust of that splendid Henley mansion from his -feet.</p> - -<p>He was glad to get away, for several people looked at him askance, and -evidently there was an uneasy feeling that he knew more than he would -confess. But no one hinted openly that he was concerned in the -robbery. It was merely thought that his presence in the gallery -required a more reasonable explanation than the weak one of having -heard a noise. Still, George could not help feeling that he was -suspected by the guests and servants, and it was gall and wormwood to -the proud young man that this should be the case.</p> - -<p>Walker carried his portmanteau down to the river, as he had rowed up -to Henley from Medmenham. It was now late in the afternoon, and with a -heavy heart he prepared to launch his boat and return.</p> - -<p>The news that he had to take to his mother was unwelcome, and he -wondered how she would receive the information that he had left Tait's -office. Mrs. Walker's circumstances were very desperate, as her income -was so small, and she greatly depended upon her son's earnings. The -present phase of things would be worse than ever, and George winced as -he contemplated the coming interview.</p> - -<p>Just as he was about to step into the boat, Mr. Hale, cigar in mouth, -sauntered up and addressed him. Walker was in no mood for -conversation, and would have pushed off with a curt nod, but that the -elder man uttered a sentence which made him pause indignantly. "So -Tait didn't have you arrested, Walker," said Mr. Hale cruelly.</p> - -<p>George turned pale, and looked straight at the speaker. "If you were -not Lesbia's father," he said quietly, "I should fling you into the -river for those words."</p> - -<p>"I quite believe you would and could," rejoined Hale, looking -admiringly at the splendid figure of the young man; "but that will not -make you any the more innocent."</p> - -<p>"If I were guilty--if Mr. Tait believed me to be guilty, I should have -been arrested long since," said Walker with an effort, "the mere fact -that I am permitted to leave the house shows that I am considered -guiltless."</p> - -<p>"Tait was always absurdly good-natured," said Hale coolly, again -risking a plunge into the river.</p> - -<p>George looked at him again. "You believe that I stole those jewels?" -he asked.</p> - -<p>"Of course I do. You made a lame excuse for being in the gallery at -night, and evidently went out after two pretended thieves so as to -hide your plunder. I didn't believe you had it in you. See what love -will do."</p> - -<p>"Love?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. You are poor; you want to marry Lesbia, and so tried the short -cut to wealth. Presently, when things have blown over, you will dig up -the jewels and sell them to some fence. Then you will come to me with -a cock-and-bull story about a legacy being left to you--perhaps you -will inherit that fifty thousand pounds which is waiting for your -mother's sister. Of course, knowing the source of your legacy I shall -say no."</p> - -<p>"You have said no already," replied Walker quietly, although he longed -to knock this sneering man of the world into the water. "Don't say any -more, sir, else I may forget that you are Lesbia's father." And George -took up his oars and pushed off into midstream.</p> - -<p>Hale lingered on the bank, still scoffing. "I shall tell Lesbia -everything, Walker," called out Mr. Hale, clearly and slowly. "She -will never marry you now, my dear burglar."</p> - -<p>The unhappy lover pulled swiftly down stream with those last words -ringing in his ears. Could he indeed trust Lesbia to continue her -engagement in the face of his being accused of a sordid crime? He knew -that she loved him as dearly as he loved her, and would go through -fire and water to prove that love. All the same, there was something -so mean and contemptible about stealing from a friend's house, that -even her great love might not be proof against her father's story. -George clenched his teeth and pulled for dear life in order to control -his emotion. He could do nothing in the face of all that had taken -place, save wait patiently. Trusting in Tait's friendship for his -mother and in Maud's loyalty, he knew that he would not be disgraced -openly: but the idea that Lesbia might believe him guilty was -desperately hard to bear. Still, she loved him, and he trusted in her -love. That was all he could do, for a glance around showed him that he -was helpless amidst the black circumstances which had so suddenly -environed him.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker heard a bald, blunt tale from George and said very little -in reply. Not even when he declared that he had thrown up his -situation did she rebuke him. On the contrary she rather applauded.</p> - -<p>"As my son," said the stern, cold woman, "you could do nothing else."</p> - -<p>"Then you do not believe that I am guilty?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker looked at him scornfully. "Our relations as mother and son -have never been sentimental," she said quietly, "but you should know -me better than to ask me that."</p> - -<p>"Thank you, mother," said George simply, for such a speech meant much -from the Spartan woman, who was usually so reticent.</p> - -<p>"I want no thanks for being just," she remarked coldly. "What you have -to do is to clear your name by searching for these thieves."</p> - -<p>"How am I to do that?"</p> - -<p>"I leave it to your own cleverness. Meanwhile I shall see Mr. Jabez, -and get him to advance us sufficient to live on until your name is -cleared and you have got another situation. As to this girl, Lesbia, -give her up."</p> - -<p>"Never! Never! Never!" said George. His mother looked at him coldly -and disapprovingly, and left him in silence.</p> - -<p>But matters turned out as she wished. Within three days a tearful note -came from a distraught girl to her anxious lover--a note of a few -words--"I believe you to be innocent but we can never marry, and we -must never meet again," said the note, and it was signed stiffly -"Lesbia Hale."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> -<h5>TWO GIRLS</h5> -<br> - -<p>If the course of true love did not run smoothly with George, the girl -he loved found it speeding roughly also.</p> - -<p>Lesbia was as anxious to see her lover as he was to meet her; but -parental displeasure and parental authority stood like a wall between -this new Pyramus and Thisbe--a wall which could by no means be -overleaped.</p> - -<p>As Tim had informed George, his master had engaged Mrs. Petty as a -housekeeper, and so the domestic arrangements of Rose Cottage were -temporarily removed from the hands of Lesbia. Also, in conjunction -with The Shadow, Mrs. Petty acted both as a spy and a gaoler. It was -infamous, as Lesbia felt, that she should be watched in this fashion; -but as she had no money and no friends and no place whither she could -go, there was nothing left for it but to wait, until such time as Mr. -Hale became more reasonable.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Petty was a stout, plethoric woman, with an aggressive manner and -a loud, common voice, who probably had been a Margate lodging-house -keeper of the worst description. She was a born bully, and within ten -minutes of her entry into the house Tim learned to loathe her with all -the fervour of an Irishman, impatient of restraint in any form.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Petty tried similar tactics and treatment on Lesbia, but was met -so firmly, and put in her place so quietly, that--being a coward at -heart, as all bullies are--she left the girl as severely alone as was -possible, while executing Mr. Hale's instructions. These were to keep -a strict eye on his daughter, and to prevent the intrusion of George -Walker. Mrs. Petty, after several rebuffs, contented herself by -watching from afar, and managed by always being on the spot when -Lesbia least expected her, to fulfil her contemptible duty. For the -rest of the time she worried Tim and looked after the domestic economy -of the cottage.</p> - -<p>The Shadow, as became his nickname, was a less aggressive personage. -He was really called John Canning, and formerly had acted as valet to -Captain Sargent. But that gentleman, being anxious to marry Lesbia -whom he greatly admired, and hating George as a too-handsome and -over-young rival, had suggested to his friend Hale that Canning should -act as an inoffensive dragon to keep away the young man. Hale quite -approved of this, as Canning could guard the garden, while Mrs. Petty -kept watch on the girl in the house itself. Canning, therefore, glided -unostentatiously into his position and, although Lesbia disliked the -creature because he carefully kept George away, she had not the same -hatred for him that she cherished for Mrs. Petty. At his worst Canning -was a harmless individual, condemned to do the dirty work of others, -because he had not sufficient brains to earn an honest wage in an -honest manner.</p> - -<p>His nickname had been given him because of his marvellously thin -looks, and these were certainly remarkably noticeable. At one time, as -he confessed to Lesbia, he had exhibited himself in a travelling -caravan as The Living Skeleton, but having slightly increased in -weight he had been discharged. What his leanness must have been -originally it is hard to say, as even now, he was but skin and bone -and, being tall, looked like a line--that is, he was length without -breadth. His hands resembled a bird's claws, his legs were like -sticks, and his skull would have served for a death's head, so devoid -was it of flesh. With his lean, clean-shaven face, with his straight, -jet-black hair, which he wore rather long, and with his skinny, -lengthy, narrow figure encased in shabby broad-cloth, he looked -positively uncanny, and rude boys made remarks about him when he -walked abroad. He glided about like a shadow, haunted shady corners -like a shadow, and spoke in a whisper as a shadow should. The name -fitted him exactly, and he looked a creature of the night, quite out -of place in the cheerful sunshine.</p> - -<p>Lesbia did not approve of him at first, for obvious reasons, and even -disliked him actively when she found how he dogged her footsteps. But -it so happened that the gods chose to turn her heart to a friendless -man, and the consequences of the change were more far-reaching than -she guessed at the moment.</p> - -<p>The days went by very heavily, since her heart was with George and she -could not see him. Certainly she contrived through the ever-faithful -Tim to get a note transmitted to him--the same that George read on the -river. And under cover of Tim's name he sent an answer which assured -her that he was still faithful and still loving and ever hopeful of -better days. Lesbia carried about that letter in her bosom day and -night and read it when she felt particularly down-hearted, which -happened not infrequently. She also waited and she also hoped. Then an -event occurred, which in after-time showed how mysteriously things -work out to their hidden ends.</p> - -<p>The Shadow fell ill in spite of the warm summer weather. Being of a -sickly constitution, he unexpectedly caught influenza, and was forced -to go to bed in the little room near Tim's sanctum. Hale, who had a -horror of sickness, at once decided to turn him out; but Sargent, also -afraid, refused to permit the valet to return to his Cookham house. -There appeared to be no refuge for the miserable man but the hospital -or the workhouse, until Lesbia suddenly asserted herself and insisted -upon nursing him back to health. Mr. Hale objected, but his daughter, -for the first time in her life remained firm and, having already -sufficient troubles on his hand without creating more, he yielded in -the end. Moreover, he thought that acting as a sick-nurse would give -Lesbia something to do and take her thoughts away from George. So she -was permitted to nurse Canning, while Mr. Hale betook himself to -Tait's sumptuous mansion at Henley.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Petty declined to look after the sick man, so Lesbia took full -charge of the case, and was assisted by Tim. Not that Tim approved of -The Shadow: but, being tender-hearted, he considered him a poor -creature, and so acted the part of the Good Samaritan.</p> - -<p>Canning grew delirious and seemed in danger of passing away: but -Lesbia set herself to struggle with death, and in the end she -conquered.</p> - -<p>When the man was sane again and rapidly regaining his strength, Tim -told him all that the young mistress had done. It was then that the -Irishman saw two big tears roll down the thin cheeks of the spy.</p> - -<p>When Lesbia entered to see how he was, he spoke weakly but to the -point. "I have been kicked about all my life," said The Shadow -brokenly, "and no one has ever said a kind word to me. Mr. Hale and -Captain Sargent have treated me worse than a dog, and but for you, -Miss Lesbia, I should have been thrown out to die in the street. You -hate me because I was set to watch you----"</p> - -<p>"I don't hate you now, Canning," she interposed, hastily. "After all, -you only performed the duty you were set to do by my father."</p> - -<p>"And by Captain Sargent," whispered The Shadow. "Don't forget Captain -Sargent. I never shall," and his weak hand clenched under the -coverlet. "But you have acted like an angel, Miss Lesbia, and some day -I may be able to repay you for what you have done."</p> - -<p>"I only did my duty," said the girl, tucking him in.</p> - -<p>"You are the first woman or man who has ever done duty by me in this -world," said Canning, the tears rolling down his face. "I know what I -know, and some day you may want my help. You shall have it. Yes! you -shall have it at whatever cost."</p> - -<p>"What do you know?" she asked wonderingly.</p> - -<p>"Never mind." He turned his face to the wall. "When the time comes, -call upon me, and I will help you."</p> - -<p>Nothing more was said at the moment, as the man was not sufficiently -recovered to talk much. Lesbia thought occasionally of what he had -said, but could not entirely understand his meaning, unless it was -that he would shut his eyes to the coming of George, should that young -man choose to risk a visit. But the days went by and George did not -come, for, as Canning was sick, Mrs. Petty kept a very strict watch on -the girl.</p> - -<p>Gradually the words of the sick man were forgotten by Lesbia and, when -he went away entirely recovered, she forgot him, having more important -matters to think about.</p> - -<p>It was shortly after Canning's departure that Hale returned from -Henley with a story which made Lesbia write--and write willingly--the -letter of dismissal, which had broken Walker's heart. After she sent -it away her father patted her shoulder, and spoke kindly to her.</p> - -<p>"You are now acting as a sensible girl," he said, with chill -politeness; "and there is no longer any need for Mrs. Petty to remain. -I know that you do not like her, so I shall send her away this -evening. Canning has also gone and will not return. Things can revert -to their original course, and you can manage the house along with Tim. -But remember, Lesbia, that if your heart softens towards this scamp, I -shall recall both The Shadow and Mrs. Petty to watch over you."</p> - -<p>Lesbia, with a white face and set lips, looked straight at her father. -"I will neither write to George again, nor will I see him," she said, -with a stifled sob. "But whatever you say about his guilt, remember -that I do not believe it. He is innocent."</p> - -<p>"Then why not stick by him?" asked her father cruelly.</p> - -<p>"You know well enough why I do not: why I cannot. George and I are now -entire strangers, and must remain so until the mystery of this -burglary is cleared up."</p> - -<p>"It will never be cleared up, because there is nothing to clear up," -said her father calmly. "George stole those jewels of Tait's for your -sake, and it is only Tait's friendship for his mother and Maud's kind -heart that prevented Walker being arrested and condemned as a thief."</p> - -<p>Lesbia's lip curled. "I mistrust Miss Ellis's kind heart," said she.</p> - -<p>Hale shrugged his thin shoulders. "You can do what you like about -that," he remarked carelessly, "but remember that she holds George in -the hollow of her hand. All you have to do is to forget him and marry -Sargent."</p> - -<p>"No!" said Lesbia positively. "I shall never see George again, since -circumstances are too strong for him and for me. But I will never -marry Captain Sargent. Be sure of that."</p> - -<p>"He loves you, and----"</p> - -<p>"I don't love him. Say no more, father. What I say, I stand by."</p> - -<p>"You said much before which you have not held by," retorted Hale, his -temper rising; "and circumstances may prove too much for you. However, -Sargent can wait, and so can I. Meanwhile, since you have dismissed -this young fool, you are free to come and go as you desire."</p> - -<p>"One moment," said Lesbia, as her father turned on his heel, "what -about that amethyst cross?"</p> - -<p>Hale wheeled round with a colour in his parchment cheeks, and a -suspicious look in his cold, grey eyes. "What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"You declared that if George recovered the cross, he could marry me."</p> - -<p>"I hold to that, since I am not a man to go back on my word."</p> - -<p>"But how can I marry George when you say that you can prove he is -guilty of this burglary?"</p> - -<p>"Maud Ellis can prove it, not I," returned Mr. Hale. He paused and bit -his lip hard. "I believe in the face of Walker's new escapade that he -knows who took that cross. His former behaviour may have been a sham, -as was his acting in the gallery. Let him bring me the cross, and -perhaps after all he may be able to marry you,"</p> - -<p>"I shall never marry him until his character is cleared," said Lesbia -firmly.</p> - -<p>Hale shrugged his shoulders again. "You will find it difficult to -clear him, my dear," he sneered, and went away.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hale would have spoken rightly in connection with a less -determined girl. But Lesbia, for all her fragile looks, was very -determined and also very much in love with George Walker. Appearances -were against him, and, judging by circumstantial evidence, he -certainly was guilty. But Lesbia could not bring herself to believe -that the man she loved had sunk to being a common thief. Now that she -was free to leave the cottage and wander whither she would, it was an -easy matter to seek out George at Medmenham, and ask direct questions.</p> - -<p>But this Lesbia did not do, because her father had detailed fully all -that Walker had said and all that he had done, so there was no more to -learn in that quarter. Moreover, Hale had stated with a sneer that -Maud Ellis was desperately in love with the young man, and Lesbia -recalled George's hesitation about speaking of his desire to leave -Tait's office. "There are other things to be considered," Walker had -said, and then had blushed. Now the girl knew intuitively that he -referred to Maud Ellis.</p> - -<p>Lesbia's face grew flushed and angry as she thought of her rival. She -trusted George, who was her very own, but instinctively she knew the -wiles of women, and dreaded lest her letter of dismissal should throw -the young man into the arms of the stockbroker's niece. Thus it came -about that Lesbia's meditations led her, not to Mrs. Walker's cottage -at Medmenham, but to the splendid mansion at Henley, where Maud Ellis -was waiting for George to come to her.</p> - -<p>Maud had learned from Mr. Hale that George had received his letter of -dismissal from Lesbia, and so waited to catch him on the recoil. He -would certainly come back to her who had so boldly stood by him when -he had been accused. But as the days went by George did not come, and -Maud's heart grew sick, for she was honestly in love.</p> - -<p>Her uncle was absent in the City, still seeking for the lost jewels, -and the local police together with a couple of detectives from -Scotland Yard were doing their best to solve the mystery. But all -efforts were in vain. No trace had been found of the thieves, and the -jewels could not be recovered. Tait invited no more people to his -Henley mansion, and remained a great deal in London grumbling over his -loss. Maud would have gone up also, but that she waited vainly at home -in the hope that George would come to her for consolation.</p> - -<p>One afternoon while she was thus waiting, and had arrayed herself in -her prettiest frock on the chance of a visit, the footman intimated -that a young lady wished to see her. She had no card, said the -footman, and had simply stated that her name was Miss Lesbia Hale.</p> - -<p>Maud's eyes flashed when she heard the name of her rival, and she -ordered the man to lead the guest at once to the long drawing-room. -Miss Ellis was desperately anxious to see the face that had captured -the heart of George Walker. Before repairing to the drawing-room, she -altered a few things about her dress, for, being very much the woman, -she knew that she was about to meet a dangerous foe. A man would not -notice a dress overmuch, but a woman would, at the very first glance, -and Maud was determined that there should be no flaw in her armour, so -far as frocks and frills went.</p> - -<p>Lesbia, very pale, but quite calm, waited impatiently for the -appearance of Miss Ellis. When that young lady sailed into the room -with outstretched hands and a beaming smile, Lesbia rose with a stony -face and a cold, distant manner. Maud's hands fell, when she saw that -she was being kept at a distance, and she became formal also. In her -heart she grew angry, when she saw Lesbia's beauty, for being very -sensible, she knew that her own looks were much inferior. A shade -passed over her face, but soon was replaced by a malicious smile. Maud -knew that, beauty or no beauty, she held the trump card and could win -the game at her leisure. Lesbia saw that smile.</p> - -<p>"I know why you look like that," she said abruptly. Maud straightened -her neat figure, and raised her sandy eyebrows.</p> - -<p>"What a very strange speech to make at our first meeting, Miss Hale!" -she said, coldly and superciliously.</p> - -<p>"Ah," retorted Lesbia. "You see that I am not used to society."</p> - -<p>"Is there any occasion to tell me that?" asked Maud, sweetly.</p> - -<p>But Lesbia was too desperately in earnest to be daunted by such feline -talk. "There is no occasion to tell you many things," she said, "nor -is there need for beating about the bush. My father has told me -everything."</p> - -<p>"About what may I ask?"</p> - -<p>"About this burglary and about George."</p> - -<p>"George?" Miss Ellis raised her eyebrows again. "George?" she -repeated.</p> - -<p>"I have the right to call him so," rejoined Lesbia hotly. "I am -engaged to him, Miss Ellis."</p> - -<p>"Was engaged, I understand."</p> - -<p>"Yes." Lesbia suddenly looked fatigued and would have dearly liked to -sit down, but pride prevented her. Maud saw this and scratched again.</p> - -<p>"Won't you sit down?"</p> - -<p>"No, thank you!" replied Lesbia, stiffening. "I am only here for a few -minutes, and can say all that I have to say in that time."</p> - -<p>Miss Ellis flicked a scented handkerchief across her lips to hide a -smile, and looked searchingly at her visitor's white face. "I really -don't know why you talk to me like this."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes you do. In the same way I knew why you smiled when you -entered. You think that you can win the game. But you shan't!"</p> - -<p>"What game?"</p> - -<p>"The game we play for George. My father has told me all. I love George -and you love him also."</p> - -<p>"Your father seems to be very well-informed," sneered Maud, flushing.</p> - -<p>"He usually is," Lesbia assured her, with great coolness. "It was only -when my father told me about this burglary, that I learned you loved -George."</p> - -<p>"I do love him!" cried Maud defiantly, "but I don't see that it -matters to you--now."</p> - -<p>"It matters a great deal," said Lesbia coldly. "I am only an -unsophisticated girl, Miss Ellis, but I don't intend to give up the -man I love, without a struggle."</p> - -<p>"I understand that you have given him up."</p> - -<p>"For the time being, until I can force you to prove his innocence."</p> - -<p>"Force me!" Miss Ellis raised her eyebrows for the third time, but her -face grew angry, for she did not like this very straight speaking. -"What have I to do with the matter? I believe that George is innocent -myself, and told my uncle so. Indeed, had I not stood up for George, -he would now be in gaol."</p> - -<p>Lesbia smiled contemptuously. "It's all part of the game," she -retorted. "I am a woman, not a man, Miss Hale, and I can see very -plainly how George walked into the trap you set for him."</p> - -<p>"I set no trap. And if George says----"</p> - -<p>"George says nothing. I have not seen him for a long time. But my -father told me how George was in the gallery and you also."</p> - -<p>"Did he tell you that George came to meet me?" asked Maud maliciously.</p> - -<p>"No, nor do I believe you."</p> - -<p>"Then he did."</p> - -<p>"It is a lie," said Lesbia, impolitely but very firmly. "I don't -believe it."</p> - -<p>"Ask George himself," cried Maud. "He will tell you that we had a -meeting at three in the morning and----"</p> - -<p>Lesbia, who was looking at her, gave an ironical laugh. "Oh, I believe -you now," she said slowly, "I can see the truth in your eyes. Yes, -George did meet you by appointment. Why, I don't know----"</p> - -<p>"Because he loved me."</p> - -<p>"He never loved you!" cried Lesbia furiously, and looked so angry that -Maud hastily stepped back a pace, thinking she would be struck. "He -loves me and me only. But you inveigled him into the gallery, into a -trap, and made use of this burglary to force him to be your husband."</p> - -<p>"I told my uncle that George was innocent."</p> - -<p>"Yes, because it suited your book to do so. But you told my father, -and he passed the message on to me, that if I did not dismiss George, -you would prove his guilt."</p> - -<p>Maud tore her handkerchief to ribbons. "And I can too," she said, -between her teeth. "You are quite right. To the world I should say -nothing; but to you I can say what I please. We love the same man. I -want him, and I am going to get him. I <i>did</i> trap George into a -meeting, but the burglary was unforeseen. I can make use of it, which, -let me remind you, Miss Hale, I have not done yet. Remember I was -chloroformed, and the key was taken from my neck to open the safe. -What would be easier than for me to declare that George Walker asked -me to meet him in the gallery and rendered me insensible and stole the -jewels, after taking the key, and buried them in the garden, coming -back to tell falsehoods? If I speak----"</p> - -<p>"You won't speak."</p> - -<p>"I shall speak, rather than let George marry you," flashed out Maud.</p> - -<p>Lesbia sneered. "You remind me of the motto of the French Revolution," -she said. "'Be my brother or I'll kill you,' so George is to marry -you----"</p> - -<p>"Or go to gaol. Exactly!"</p> - -<p>"Thank you!" Lesbia moved swiftly to the door. "Now that I know your -intentions I can go."</p> - -<p>"What will you do?" Maud followed, aghast at this abrupt departure.</p> - -<p>"Prove George's innocence, and marry him."</p> - -<p>"Try!" said Maud, between her teeth, "try and fail."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">CHAPTER X</a></h4> -<h5>THE <i>DEUS EX MACHINA</i></h5> -<br> - -<p>If Lesbia had been a trifle more versed in the ways of the wicked -world, she would have remained longer in conversation with Maud, if -only to learn about that lady's plans. Maud declared that unless -George became her husband she would have him put into gaol for the -burglary. But it was difficult to know how she intended to proceed. Of -course, she could declare that Walker had chloroformed her and had -stolen the key of the strong-room to steal the jewels, but she had no -one to prove the truth of her story, plausible as it was, in the face -of Walker's known presence in the picture-gallery. It was George's -word against Maud's and, therefore, the law would have no easy matter -to prove the young man's supposed guilt.</p> - -<p>But Lesbia was so hot with indignation at the discovery of Maud's mean -plot that she ended the interview abruptly, and walked quickly away -trying to stifle her rage. For George's sake it was necessary that she -should keep a clear head, and it was necessary also that she should -learn the truth of this conspiracy--as she verily believed it to be.</p> - -<p>Come what might, Lesbia decided in her own mind that George should -marry her. But to bring this about she had not only to clear his -character, but to find the amethyst cross and restore it to her -father. But where the cross might be she could not guess. The mystery -of the robbery and of George's presence in the cottage on that fatal -night had never been cleared up.</p> - -<p>Walking swiftly down to the river Lesbia thought over these things, -and thought still more when she entered Tim's boat. The little man had -rowed her up to Henley at her request, and took her back the same way. -She had detailed her reasons for visiting Miss Ellis, but had received -scanty comfort from Tim. He was disposed to take a gloomy view of the -matter.</p> - -<p>"It's the crass, bad luck to it!" groaned Tim, when she told him how -badly she had fared. "Sure there's nivir bin a moment's pace sinse it -was lost."</p> - -<p>"That is very true," rejoined Lesbia, steering the boat towards the -lock, and reviewing in her own mind the untoward circumstances which -had disturbed her life since the proposal of George in the garden. -From the time when the cross had been given to him, there had been -nothing but incessant trouble. Her father had raged, her lover had -been assaulted, her liberty had been curtailed, and George had lost -his situation through being accused of a sordid crime. And to crown -all, another woman, of whose existence she had scarcely heard, had -stepped in to claim Walker as her future husband.</p> - -<p>"It's very true," sighed Lesbia dolefully, "the cross has brought -nothing but trouble. If we could get it back again things might mend. -But the question is, how to recover it?"</p> - -<p>Tim bent to his oars, and shook his head with another groan. "Let it -bide, Miss, let it bide. Sure we don't want more kick-ups. Me mother, -rist her sowl, towld me that the crass wud bring lashins av worry whin -ye guv it off av yer hand. An' it's truth she spoke, me dear."</p> - -<p>"Do you know where she got the cross, Tim?"</p> - -<p>"Sure, Miss, an' didn't she tell ye whin she died? 'Twas yer mother's. -I know no more nor that, me dear, 'twas your mother's. As for Masther -Garge, cudn't ye forgit him, Miss?"</p> - -<p>"No!" cried Lesbia, indignantly. "I shall love George as long as I -live. I can no more forget him than he can forget me. Would you have -me marry Captain Sargent?"</p> - -<p>"Sure, an' I wudn't. He's a proud baste, an' if ye married him, me -dear, he'd be afther bringing me to the gallows, for his treatmint av -ye, Miss Lesbia."</p> - -<p>"Then don't let us talk any more about the matter," cried Lesbia, -impetuously. "I shall keep my faith with George."</p> - -<p>"Wud ye like to see him, Miss?"</p> - -<p>"No," said the girl promptly. "I told him in my letter that we must -never meet again. Nor will we until this mystery of the burglary is -cleared up. I intend to clear it up."</p> - -<p>"But how, Miss? Ye've no wan to help ye."</p> - -<p>Lesbia reflected. "There's The Shadow," she said quietly.</p> - -<p>"An' what wud that poor cratur be afther doing, Miss?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know. But he offered to help me, so I shall put his -professions of gratitude to the test. Tim, to-night you must go down -to Cookham and bring him back with you."</p> - -<p>"Augh!" groaned Tim, annoyed that anyone but himself should do -anything for his darling. "Sure he's out av the house, so let him -bide, me dear."</p> - -<p>"If you don't go to Cookham, I will," said Lesbia firmly.</p> - -<p>"An' have trouble wid that baste av a Captain? Me dear, I'll go."</p> - -<p>And Tim was as good as his word. Lesbia reached the cottage to find -that her father had left a note saying he had gone to London for a few -days. Hale was always stealing off on mysterious errands, possibly -connected with his equally mysterious business.</p> - -<p>Of late no odd characters had been coming to the cottage, but Hale was -absent much more frequently. On this occasion his absence was welcome, -as it gave Lesbia a chance of arranging her plans with Canning. What -these might be she had, as yet, no very clear idea. All she intended -to do was to explain the situation and ask The Shadow what was best to -be done. When she received his opinion, she could then take a step -forward into the veiling mists which surrounded her.</p> - -<p>While Tim rowed down to Cookham, which he did after landing Lesbia at -the bottom of the garden, the girl ran into the cottage. She found -that she had it all to herself as, true to his promise, Mr. Hale had -dismissed Mrs. Petty. That good lady, liking the easy place, had -retired in high dudgeon, and would have shown fight but that Hale -quelled her with a glance of his cold, grey eye.</p> - -<p>Hale, indeed, possessed a great power--perhaps a hypnotic power--over -those who came to the cottage. Had not Canning fallen sick, and thus -had been removed from his influence, it is very questionable if he -would have offered his services to Lesbia. However, he had done so, -and the girl was about to accept them gratefully.</p> - -<p>Lesbia passed the time in dressing herself for dinner, and in -partaking of it. It was a homely meal, consisting of cold meat and -salad, bread and cheese and a glass of prime claret. Afterwards -Lesbia made herself a cup of black coffee, and sat down in the tiny -drawing-room with a book, pending the arrival of The Shadow. But her -thoughts wandered from the printed page to George, and more than ever -she longed for his coming. It had cost her much to write the letter of -dismissal, but in the face of Maud's threat, as conveyed to her by -Hale, she could do nothing else. And the worst of it was that she had -not been permitted to assign a cause for what George must regard as -her heartless behaviour.</p> - -<p>However, and very luckily, she had scanty time for sad reflections, -for shortly she heard the hearty voice of Tim, as he entered the house -by the back door, and later the sibilant whisper of The Shadow.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes Canning presented himself, looking more lean and more -dismal than ever in his customary suit of black. But his haggard face -was lighted up with an eager smile. The mere fact that Lesbia had -decided to avail herself of his services made him as gay as such a sad -personage well could be. Canning was desperately anxious to repay the -kindness he had received.</p> - -<p>"I am glad to see you," said Lesbia cordially. "You lost no time."</p> - -<p>"No, Miss," whispered the grim man, who stood with long, hanging arms -at the door. "Captain Sargent went to London to-day with your father, -and I came back with Tim at once. I am so glad you want me to help -you, Miss."</p> - -<p>"I need your help very badly," sighed Lesbia, passing her hand across -her brow. "Will you not sit down, Canning."</p> - -<p>"In your presence, Miss? Please excuse me."</p> - -<p>"But you are yet weak after your illness. Sit down. I want you to."</p> - -<p>Thus urged, The Shadow sank softly on to the extreme edge of a -convenient chair placed near the door. Here he fixed his sad eyes on -the beautiful vision at the window, and adored in silence.</p> - -<p>Lesbia turned matters over in her mind. She knew that she would have -to speak very plainly, and had a natural reluctance to doing so, since -Canning was a servant and a stranger.</p> - -<p>Still, he was the sole person who could help her, as now that George -was out of her life, temporarily, at all events, she felt very lonely. -Her father neither gave her affection, nor desired any, and certainly -would not put out a hand to save George, much less clear his -character. Why should he, when he wanted Walker out of the way so that -his daughter could marry Sargent?</p> - -<p>Lesbia thought of these things with her eyes on the floor, and finally -determined to confess everything, as her plight and that of George was -too desperate to permit of over-nice feelings.</p> - -<p>With some colour, therefore, she related the whole story from the time -that Walker had proposed to the result of her visit to Maud.</p> - -<p>"I was forced to dismiss Mr. Walker," she said in addition, "because -my father came back to tell me that Miss Ellis had threatened to have -Mr. Walker arrested. I saw Miss Ellis also, as I have told you, and -she declares that she can prove Mr. Walker's guilt, and will do so -unless he marries her."</p> - -<p>Canning, with his sad eyes fixed upon her, heard the whole tale -without comment. At the end he nodded. "What do you wish me to do, -Miss?"</p> - -<p>"I want you to learn who committed this burglary at Mr. Tait's house, -so that Mr. Walker can be cleared."</p> - -<p>"But how can I do that, Miss, when I am servant to Captain Sargent? I -have my duties to consider."</p> - -<p>"I know that," Lesbia faltered, and became downcast, "and then you -have no experience in looking into these things. I am sorry you cannot -help me."</p> - -<p>"I did not say that, Miss."</p> - -<p>"Then you will?"</p> - -<p>The Shadow reflected, but did not take his eyes from her eager face. -"Yes!" he said at length. "I will help you."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Canning, thank you so much. But how?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say yet, Miss. In the first place I must leave Captain -Sargent."</p> - -<p>Lesbia rose impulsively. "I don't want you to lose your situation."</p> - -<p>"I had intended to give the Captain notice long ago," explained -Canning, rising in his turn. "What you say decides me. I shall go to -London, and in one way or another I may be able to learn who stole -those jewels."</p> - -<p>"But why in London? They were stolen at Henley."</p> - -<p>"Quite so, but the two thieves--if Mr. Walker is to be believed, there -were two--must have taken the jewels to dispose of them in London. -Leave everything to me, Miss. I was in an inquiry office once, and -know how to go about these matters. But," he hesitated, "it will -require money."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Lesbia uttered an ejaculation of dismay. "I have none."</p> - -<p>"Can't your father give you some, Miss?"</p> - -<p>Lesbia shook her head. "He wants me to marry Captain Sargent, and so -will not allow me to help Mr. Walker. No, my father will give me -nothing. What is to be done?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know, Miss. But I have no money and I must have at least -fifty pounds to work on. I shall learn about the burglary first and -then will discover who knocked down Mr. Walker and stole the cross." -He paused. "Has Tim saved any money?"</p> - -<p>"No, poor soul," sighed Lesbia, "my father never pays him any wages. I -am sure he would lend me the money if he had it. There is no one from -whom I can borrow, and----" here a sudden idea came to the girl, and -she flushed crimson with mingled hope and nervous fear. "Oh!" she -cried, "he might, he might."</p> - -<p>"Who might, Miss?" asked the man sharply.</p> - -<p>Lesbia took no notice. "Fifty pounds," she murmured. "It's a large sum -of money. Still he might. He----" she stopped again as she saw The -Shadow looking at her curiously. "Go away, Canning, and return -to-morrow evening. I hope to have the fifty pounds by then."</p> - -<p>"Miss," Canning spoke slowly and impressively, "you have honoured me -with your confidence, and you will never regret doing so, as I am -entirely devoted to you. Add to that confidence by telling me from -whom you design to borrow this fifty pounds."</p> - -<p>"There is no reason why you should not know," said Lesbia quickly, "I -am thinking of Lord Charvington."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Hale's cousin."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you know that," she cried, surprised.</p> - -<p>"Yes," The Shadow laughed in his whispering, silent way, rather oddly. -"I know more than you give me credit for. You see," he added, slowly, -and with a downcast face, "I was at school with your father and -Charvington."</p> - -<p>"You," Lesbia gasped in astonishment, and stared at the lean, dusky, -untidy figure before her. Then she remembered the scrupulous -refinement of the man, noted anew his excellent diction, and suddenly -saw in the weird face and figure evidences of good breeding.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Canning," she said suddenly, and gave him a new position at once, -"you are a gentleman!"</p> - -<p>"I <i>was</i> a gentleman," he replied bitterly, and dropping his use of -the word "Miss." "Now I am Captain Sargent's valet and a wastrel. But -I am also your very devoted servant, Miss Hale," he bowed. "Let it -remain at that."</p> - -<p>"But how did you come to----"</p> - -<p>"Don't ask me--don't ask me," said Canning hurriedly. "Some day you -will learn how I came to occupy this position. Meanwhile, get the -fifty pounds from Charvington"--Lesbia noted that he spoke quite as an -equal of the nobleman--"and give it to me. I shall save your lover and -make your path straight for you."</p> - -<p>"Can you do this, Mr. Canning?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," he answered simply. "Good-night, Miss Hale. Please do not tell -Tim what I have mentioned, and say nothing to Charvington. To-morrow -night I shall come for the fifty, and the----" he paused, opened and -closed his hand several times, and then vanished with a sigh. He might -indeed have been a veritable shadow from the noiseless way in which he -disappeared.</p> - -<p>Lesbia remained spell-bound. In a flash it occurred to her that she -should long ago have guessed that The Shadow was other than he -appeared to be. Many things which had puzzled her became plain, and -she wondered how a gentleman had sunk so low as to be a spy, and to -occupy the position of Sargent's valet. But she had too much delicacy -to question Canning, until such time as he chose of his own free will -to speak out.</p> - -<p>Besides, she had much to think about in connection with her proposed -borrowing of fifty pounds from Lord Charvington. And unless she could -procure that sum, there would be no chance of George being saved from -the clutches of Maud Ellis.</p> - -<p>The nobleman in question was a cousin of Mr. Hale's and had once or -twice been to the cottage. Indeed, Lesbia had reason to believe that -Lord Charvington allowed her father a certain sum every quarter, -although this seemed strange in the face of Hale's assertion that he -could give her two thousand a year if she married to his liking. There -was also the business in the City about which Lesbia knew nothing. Why -should a man in business accept an annuity?</p> - -<p>It was all very strange, but then everything connected with Mr. Walter -Hale was strange, and now that Lesbia began to think, she began to -mistrust her father. Why did he keep his business secret? Why did he -accept an annuity, and then declare that he could give her a large -income? Why did he have such shady people at the cottage whom he -scarcely permitted her to see? Altogether Lesbia became aware that -there was something sinister about her father's position. She felt -like a watcher of a black cloud waiting for it to discharge lightning. -More than ever did she determine at least to have the mysteries of the -burglary and of the cross cleared up. The old time of peace had passed -away for the girl, and now she felt that she would have to go forth -and do battle.</p> - -<p>With regard to Charvington, she knew him moderately well. He had -always been kind to her, and she had heard her father state that the -nobleman was her godfather. It seemed rather cool to apply to him for -a loan of fifty pounds, but Lesbia was not only desperate but also -very unsophisticated in worldly ways.</p> - -<p>Almost without considering what she was about, she wrote a hurried -letter asking him to lend her fifty pounds for six months, and -promised to explain later why she desired the loan. She proposed in -her own mind to repay the money by selling the amethyst cross when -Canning should get it back for her, as she believed he would.</p> - -<p>Of course the whole business was very naïve and very childish, and a -girl more versed in worldly things would never have ventured to take -such a step. But Lesbia, just like a trusting child, asked for the -money, and posted her letter with a prayer that God would grant her -request.</p> - -<p>Like a newly-fledged gambler, who wins every game through sheer -ignorance, Lesbia's desperately-played card turned up trumps in four -and twenty hours. Lord Charvington sent her a cheque by return of post -and invited her to come and explain matters to him personally. Lesbia -danced with joy.</p> - -<p>"Now!" she said to herself. "George is safe. Thank God!"</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">CHAPTER XI</a></h4> -<h5>THE SEAMY SIDE</h5> -<br> - -<p>When Mr. Hale returned in three days from London, he was surprised to -find Lesbia extremely cheerful. She had every right to be, since she -had given the fifty-pound cheque to Canning, and he was now in town -looking into the matter of the Henley burglary. How Canning managed to -get away from his master so expeditiously, Lesbia could not tell, nor -did she inquire. It was quite enough for her to know that The Shadow -was searching into the case. To Lord Charvington she had sent a letter -thanking him for the money, and promising to come over and tell him -everything as soon as she could. These things made her hopeful and -bright in spite of her enforced severance from George, and she -managed, by looking towards a bright future, to possess her soul in -patience. But Hale was ignorant of what she was doing, and her -behaviour puzzled him.</p> - -<p>"I thought you loved Walker," he said abruptly, and with suspicion.</p> - -<p>"Of course I do," rejoined the girl cheerfully.</p> - -<p>"It does not seem like it."</p> - -<p>Lesbia shrugged her shoulders. "What is the use of crying over spilt -milk?" she asked. "My going about with a long face will not make -George's position any the more endurable. Some day when his character -has been cleared things will change."</p> - -<p>"They will never change," said Mr. Hale coldly and severely. "Walker -has committed a sordid crime, and can never marry you."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe that he is guilty," retorted Lesbia deliberately. -"And even if I grant for the sake of argument that he is, Miss Ellis -does not seem to think that his guilt is a bar to his marriage with -her."</p> - -<p>"She's a love-sick fool."</p> - -<p>"So am I."</p> - -<p>"With this difference, that she can marry him and you can't. And -talking of Miss Ellis," went on Hale, becoming more stern than ever; -"I saw her in London and she told me that you had actually been to see -her."</p> - -<p>"Why not?" asked Lesbia defiantly. "That is no crime."</p> - -<p>"It is an impertinence to see her and to talk to her as you did. Why -did you go, Lesbia?"</p> - -<p>"I wished to find out how she proposed to force George to become her -husband. I have learned that much. She intends to force him by telling -a lie."</p> - -<p>"How do you know that what she says is a lie?" demanded Hale angrily.</p> - -<p>"Because I read it in her eyes. A man would not have done so, but I am -a woman, and you can trust one woman to learn everything another woman -leaves unsaid, especially when a man is the stake between them."</p> - -<p>"You should have more modesty," snapped her father uncomfortably.</p> - -<p>Lesbia coloured. "I have behaved properly in every way," she said, in -a wounded voice; "and, as I love George, I had every right to learn -how this woman proposed to take him from me."</p> - -<p>"Well, you know now that she can."</p> - -<p>"She <i>thinks</i> she can," said Lesbia, with emphasis; "that is -different."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense! She can prove that he took the key from her neck and stole -the jewels," insisted Mr. Hale.</p> - -<p>"It is her word against his," rejoined Lesbia drily; "and until Miss -Ellis proves the truth of her statement I believe in George's -innocence."</p> - -<p>"Lesbia," cried her father, rising, "what has come to you? Formerly -you used to be quiet and well-behaved and did as you were told; -now----"</p> - -<p>"Now," said the girl, getting on her feet and looking very straight at -her father; "now I am a woman, fighting for her happiness, and so will -do my best to hold my own against your tyranny."</p> - -<p>Hale did not like the word, and said so. "I am your father and no -tyrant."</p> - -<p>"You are both, and much more the latter than the former. I don't know -how it is," said Lesbia, pondering, "but I have an idea that you are -using me as a pawn in some game you are playing. Miss Ellis is in the -game also, and so is Captain Sargent. What the game may be I don't -know, and I decline to be pushed about a chess-board without knowing -why I move."</p> - -<p>"You shall do as you are told," said Hale, livid with secret rage, but -not daring to show it openly, lest he should lose more of his already -waning influence.</p> - -<p>"I shall do as I think fit," retorted the girl, her spirit up in arms. -"I don't care if you are fifty times my father, you shall not treat me -in this way any longer. If I can clear George's character, I shall see -him and marry him, and if you dare to bring in Mrs. Petty to spy on -me, I shall appeal to my godfather."</p> - -<p>"Your godfather. And who may he be?"</p> - -<p>"You told me once and I have never forgotten. Lord Charvington is -my----"</p> - -<p>"I spoke at random," broke in Hale hastily. "He is not your godfather. -He is nothing more than my cousin and my friend."</p> - -<p>"And your benefactor," said Lesbia, unable to resist the shaft. "And -being so, what will he say if he learns how unkindly you are -behaving?"</p> - -<p>"Lesbia, you are mad!"</p> - -<p>"No! For years I have been your puppet. Lately I have discovered that -I am a human being with a will of my own. So long as you leave me -alone I am content to behave as your daughter. But I decline to endure -tyranny, and I decline to be made use of in this mysterious game you -are playing. I am very glad you spoke to me this morning, father, as -it was time that we came to an understanding;" and Lesbia, with her -head up, marched out of the room. But she would have been scared had -she looked back and seen the expression on her father's face. It was -little less than devilish with rage and baffled cunning.</p> - -<p>The worm had been obedient for so long that Hale had never expected -the turning and it came upon him with a shock. He could not afford to -let Lesbia appeal for protection to his noble relative, as he knew -that Lord Charvington was the kindest of men and would, undoubtedly, -interfere.</p> - -<p>Of course in an ordinary case, Hale could have prevented such -interference between a father and daughter. But with Charvington, who -allowed him an annuity, it was different. If Hale did not behave well -to Lesbia, he felt very certain that Charvington would punish him by -taking away the quarterly sum. And in spite of his business in the -City, and his boast that he could give Lesbia two thousand a year, -Hale could not afford to lose so certain an income.</p> - -<p>He therefore said no more to Lesbia on the subjects of George and Miss -Ellis and the burglary. Nor did he bring back The Shadow and Mrs. -Petty. Indeed, he could not bring back the former, as he had heard -from Sargent that the man had thrown up his situation, and had gone to -London.</p> - -<p>This being the case, if Lesbia chose to see George it was impossible -to prevent her from having her own way. But Hale trusted that after -the letter of dismissal George would refuse to have anything to do -with the girl who had apparently thrown him over. Meanwhile he asked -Sargent to the cottage frequently, and advised him to prosecute his -wooing with all zeal. "If you don't secure the girl soon, you will -lose her," said Hale emphatically.</p> - -<p>"I shall do so as soon as I can get a chance of seeing her alone," -said Sargent, and strove to look the handsome, gallant lover.</p> - -<p>It was after dinner that he spoke thus; and in the light which came -through the rosy shades of the candles he seemed wonderfully young, -and not at all bad-looking. As usual, he was perfectly dressed in -evening array, and yet had that ultra-fashionable air, which is such a -mark of inferior breeding. Captain Alfred Sargent looked like a -gentleman, and yet there was something lacking in manner to complete -the dress and pretensions. The rosy lights made him look less -colourless for the moment; but when in pursuance of his object he -strolled into the garden to meet Lesbia, he became quite wan, white -and worn-looking in the warm summer moonlight.</p> - -<p>Miss Hale, in a simple white dress, looking sweet and girlish and -remarkably pretty, sat on the bench under the chestnut--in the -very place where George had made his memorable proposal. Disliking -Sargent as she did, and the more so since her father wished her to -marry him, she had early left the dinner-table to take refuge in this -love-haunted spot, and dream of George.</p> - -<p>With the inconsequence of a woman, she rather resented the fact that -her lover had not replied to his letter of dismissal. She had not -thought that he would accept her decision so readily, and in her heart -she desired that he should come along to take her by storm. At times -she fancied, indeed, that he would suddenly appear to carry her off to -the nearest church, and so frequently sought the garden to afford him -an opportunity to play "Young Lochinvar."</p> - -<p>There was also another reason. In the garden she hoped to meet The -Shadow. Lately, he had sent her a line--through Tim--stating that he -had discovered a clue to the robbery, and that he would come down to -tell her about it. Lesbia appointed the bottom of the garden as the -best place of meeting as her father rarely came there, and Canning -could easily row up to the landing-stage in the twilight. Every -evening she expected him, but as yet he had not appeared. Thus, she -was much annoyed when she beheld the slender form of the ex-captain in -the distance.</p> - -<p>With a cigarette in his mouth, which he was languidly smoking, Sargent -strolled pensively down the path, and finally came to a halt before -the pretty figure on the garden-seat. Lesbia looked at him blankly, -and gave him no encouragement.</p> - -<p>"A penny for your thoughts, Miss Hale," said the gallant captain, -forced by her silence to utter the first word.</p> - -<p>"They are worth the Bank of England," replied Lesbia, resolving to -make the best of this bore, since to get rid of him by plain speaking -only meant unnecessary trouble with her father.</p> - -<p>"In that case," said Sargent softly, and advancing nearer, "may I hope -they were of me?"</p> - -<p>"If you are so very egotistic," said the girl bitingly, "you can think -so."</p> - -<p>"You are cruel," muttered Sargent, somewhat disconcerted. He had not -expected so cutting a speech from so apparently timid a girl. "Why are -you so cruel to me, Lesbia--I may call you Lesbia, may I not?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Lesbia coldly, "I see no reason why you should. As to being -cruel, Captain Sargent, I am not aware that I am."</p> - -<p>"Surely," fenced the captain, "you are aware that I love you."</p> - -<p>Lesbia laughed, and he was more disconcerted than ever. "I am aware -that my father wishes me to marry you; but he said nothing of love."</p> - -<p>"He left it for me to say."</p> - -<p>"Well, then, say it," remarked Miss Hale cruelly.</p> - -<p>Sargent had met plenty of women and, with his good looks and -reputation for wealth, had usually scored an easy victory. But this -girl was so straightforward and so absolutely calm that he did not -know how to proceed. With an uneasy laugh he strove to fall into her -humour. "I love you," he stammered.</p> - -<p>"Why?" asked Lesbia, still calm and exasperating.</p> - -<p>"Look in the glass, and ask me why," he said ardently. "Can I behold -such loveliness and----"</p> - -<p>"Captain Sargent," she broke in, smiling broadly, "you speak just like -a lover of the mid-Victorian epoch. I have read such speeches in -books, and I have always thought them exceedingly silly. Be more -original!"</p> - -<p>Don Giovanni himself would have turned restive when advised to alter -his style of love-making, and Captain Sargent's waxen face grew red -with wrath. He was a bloodless person, so his anger was more like that -of a fretful child than that of a man.</p> - -<p>Lesbia looked at him with a contempt which he found hard to bear. She -wanted a man to master her as all women do, and she saw that this -wooer could never dominate.</p> - -<p>"You are very unkind, Lesbia," was all that Sargent could find to say.</p> - -<p>"In that case, why not leave me and go back to my father?"</p> - -<p>"Because I came from your father. He wants you to marry me. I want it -also. Come," he went on coaxingly, "be my wife, Lesbia, and you shall -have everything that the world can give you."</p> - -<p>"I daresay. Everything but a husband."</p> - -<p>"I shall be your husband."</p> - -<p>"You!" she looked him up and down until he reddened to the roots of -his straw-coloured hair. "I would rather be excused."</p> - -<p>"You won't marry me."</p> - -<p>"Certainly not."</p> - -<p>Sargent grew childish with rage. "If you do not there will be trouble. -I can ruin that man you love--that bounder Walker!"</p> - -<p>"He is not a bounder; he is a man, and it will take a stronger man -than you, Captain Sargent, to harm him."</p> - -<p>"But I <i>can</i> harm him, and I shall do so," cried the captain, and his -delicate face took on an expression of cunning. Weak as he was, Lesbia -could see that wounded vanity might make him dangerous. "This -burglary----"</p> - -<p>"What do you know about it?" demanded Lesbia imperiously.</p> - -<p>"Walker is guilty. Miss Ellis says so."</p> - -<p>"For her own ends she says so, and you act in the same way. She wants -to marry George, and you want to marry me. It won't do, Captain -Sargent. Things are not to be settled in that fashion. You had -better," she laughed, "marry Miss Ellis yourself."</p> - -<p>"I love you; I want to marry you."</p> - -<p>"I am sorry," said Lesbia sedately, "but I decline."</p> - -<p>"For your father's sake," urged Sargent weakly, angry, and -looking more dangerously cunning than ever. "I can harm him also. I -can----" He saw from the startled expression on the girl's face that -he was saying too much, and abruptly turned on his heel. "I shall come -for my answer to-morrow, Lesbia," he called out, as he walked swiftly -towards the house.</p> - -<p>The girl remained where she was, wondering what this new threat meant. -She could understand how he could support her father and Maud in -harming George, but it was difficult to understand how he could harm -Mr. Hale.</p> - -<p>In a flash the old unrest came over Lesbia, and she again pondered her -father's unaccountable secrecy, and recalled his shady acquaintances. -Then again, there was Canning, who was a gentleman and had been to -school with Mr. Hale, only to degenerate into Sargent's valet. It was -all very singular and somewhat startling, and Lesbia puzzled over it -hopelessly, until she was aroused from a somewhat painful brown study -by a low whistle.</p> - -<p>She looked up and around, to see a boat by the landing-stage, and in -the boat Mr. Canning, apparently more frail than ever. Sargent was -also shadowy, and it dawned upon Lesbia that the two might be related.</p> - -<p>"Captain Sargent has just left me," she said, running down to the -landing-stage. "He wanted to marry me and I refused."</p> - -<p>"You were quite right, Miss Hale. If you married Sargent, you would be -ruined for ever."</p> - -<p>"He threatened to harm my father if I did not, and George also."</p> - -<p>Mr. Canning threw back his head and laughed silently. "He can do his -best to harm Walker by supporting Miss Ellis in her lie, but it will -take a much stronger man than Alfred to----" here he became aware that -he had appeared unduly familiar with his late master's name.</p> - -<p>"I thought so," said Lesbia, recalling how like the two men were in -looks and fragility; "you are related to Captain Sargent; you are his -brother."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mr. Canning, looking very pale. "Since you have guessed so -cleverly I may as well admit it. But I shall not tell you my story -now. Later will be time enough. Meanwhile, say nothing to your father -about having guessed that Alfred is my brother. How did you----"</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Lesbia smiling, "you are exactly alike. Both pale and -both slender, with the same cast of face and the same colour of hair, -and--oh, it's wonderful!--I believe you are twins."</p> - -<p>Mr. Canning shirked this question. He came ashore and passed with -Lesbia under the chestnut tree, behind the trunk, in fact, so that -they might not be seen from the cottage windows.</p> - -<p>"I have discovered the truth," he said, in his usual whisper, "but at -present you must not ask me how I came to learn it. But George Walker -is innocent. Mr. Tait had the jewels stolen so as to get the insurance -money."</p> - -<p>Lesbia gasped with amazement. "Are you certain?" she demanded, and -when he nodded, asked another question. "How did you learn so -quickly?"</p> - -<p>"That is a secret just now," said Canning equably. "Remember that I -warned you before, that you must not ask that question. It is -sufficient to say that I found out how Mr. Tait insured these jewels -for a large sum of money, and then employed two clever London thieves -to steal them. Tait will get the insurance money, and he will also -unset the jewels and sell them in India and America. Of course, the -thieves will have to be paid for the risk they took, though it was not -a great one, as Tait left the gallery doors open, and gave them the -key which he had on his watch-chain to open the safe. If Miss Ellis -had not come down; if Walker had not followed, there would have been -no scandal."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Canning," said Lesbia, after a moment's thought, "did Miss Ellis -know that this robbery was about to take place? From all that I have -heard of her she is deep in her uncle's confidence."</p> - -<p>"I cannot be sure if she is an accessory before the fact," replied -Canning, speaking in legal phraseology.</p> - -<p>"But I can," cried the girl, leaping to a conclusion with the -intuitive certainty of a woman. "I see the whole scheme. Miss Ellis -knew that the jewels would be stolen somewhere about three o'clock in -the morning, and so appointed that hour to meet George, and implicate -him in the crime. It was a carefully arranged trap into which he -walked wholly unconsciously."</p> - -<p>"But her reason?" asked Canning, somewhat perplexed.</p> - -<p>Lesbia laughed. "You are a mere man, Mr. Canning, and cannot -understand. It takes a woman to fathom the duplicity of another woman. -Miss Ellis loved George, and as he would not marry her willingly, she -lured him into this trap, so as to--oh!" Lesbia broke off, clenching -her little fists and stamping with anger. "But she shall not! she -shall not! I shall see her and defy her. And you, Mr. Canning--you?"</p> - -<p>"I am returning to London, to hide," said the man quietly; "but I can -come down here when it is necessary. I shall send you my address as -soon as I arrange where to conceal myself."</p> - -<p>"But why should you conceal yourself?"</p> - -<p>"That is too long a story to tell you at present. It is enough for -you to know that what I have discovered about Tait--what I have told -you--is dangerous to me. No, Miss Hale, do not ask me further -questions, for I dare not answer. I have jeopardised my liberty, and -perhaps my life, by what I have done for you."</p> - -<p>"I do not understand," said Lesbia, somewhat scared.</p> - -<p>"It is as well that you do not," said Canning, sombrely. "Bluebeard's -chamber is a dangerous room to look into. When it is necessary--if it -ever is--you shall know what I am concealing now. Meanwhile, I shall -go into hiding in London."</p> - -<p>"What am I to do?"</p> - -<p>"See Miss Ellis," rejoined The Shadow promptly. "Tell her what I have -discovered, and give my name as your authority--that is, say how -Captain Sargent's servant looked into the matter. You can suppress the -fact of my being a gentleman and Sargent's brother. Tell Miss Ellis -also that when the time comes I can prove that her uncle had the -jewels stolen so as to get the insurance money, in addition to the -money from the sale of the jewels in order to tide over a financial -crisis. Twenty thousand from the jewels and a like amount from -Lloyd's," ended Canning cynically, "will give Mr. Tait ample funds -with which to retrieve his position. He was in danger of bankruptcy, -but this crime, engineered by himself, has saved his credit."</p> - -<p>"What wickedness!" murmured Lesbia, as Canning moved towards his boat.</p> - -<p>"Oh, such doings are classed under the head of business by people like -Tait. But I must get away before my brother or your father sees me;" -and Canning loosened the painter, slipped into the boat, and took the -oars, not without an anxious glance at the cottage.</p> - -<p>"Thank you for what you have done," cried Lesbia softly, remaining, -for obvious reasons, behind the tree-trunk.</p> - -<p>"Not at all. I have only repaid my debt--that is, if such a debt can -ever be paid. Au revoir, Miss Hale!" and raising his shabby cap with -all the good breeding of a gentleman, Canning pulled away with an -easy, clean stroke, which could only have been learned at a public -school.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">CHAPTER XII</a></h4> -<h5>A COUNTERPLOT</h5> -<br> - -<p>Captain Sargent was somewhat disheartened by Lesbia's steady -opposition to his wooing. He was not virile enough to take her heart -by storm, and his usual tactics did not seem to succeed with this -cool, quiet, observant girl, who looked at him so straight. Also his -threats of harming George Walker and Mr. Hale proved to be but blunt -weapons and could not penetrate the shield of Lesbia's composure. -Sargent retreated from the field of battle thoroughly beaten, and he -must have confessed as much to Hale, for that gentleman took his -daughter to task when she returned to the cottage after her secret -interview with Canning. The unsuccessful lover had already departed, -and Lesbia listened for ten minutes to her father's denunciations of -what he was pleased to style her wickedness.</p> - -<p>"You ought to be flattered that so rich and handsome a man loves you," -raged Mr. Hale, who for once in his life lost his self-control. "You -seem to forget that if I died to-morrow--and I might as my heart is -affected--you would be left penniless."</p> - -<p>Lesbia raised her eyebrows. "I understood you to say that you could -leave me two thousand a year," she observed quietly.</p> - -<p>"If you marry as I wish," cried her father furiously, "not otherwise. -Failing your becoming the wife of my dear friend, Sargent, I shall -leave the money to Lord Charvington."</p> - -<p>"Well," said the girl cheerfully, "that would only be fair, since he -has paid you a pension for so long."</p> - -<p>"What do you know about that?" snapped Hale, changing colour.</p> - -<p>"Very little. But you certainly told me in an expansive moment that -Lord Charvington, as your cousin, allowed you a small income."</p> - -<p>"Precious small," muttered Hale, not contradicting.</p> - -<p>"But why does he allow you anything?" asked Lesbia, very directly, -"with two thousand a year you cannot wish for his help."</p> - -<p>Hale took a turn up and down the room, then stopped opposite to his -daughter and spoke in quieter tones, but none the less emphatic. "I am -not enjoying two thousand a year at present," he declared slowly, "and -so accept an annuity from Charvington, who, being my cousin, has every -right to assist me."</p> - -<p>"I don't see that," murmured the girl, shrugging.</p> - -<p>"It doesn't matter what you see, or what you don't see," cried Hale, -his temper again getting beyond control. "Do as you are told, or -chance the consequences."</p> - -<p>"Be a pawn in fact," she rejoined ironically. "A pawn on your -chess-board."</p> - -<p>Hale shrugged in his turn. "Put it how you like," he retorted, "but -obey."</p> - -<p>"Certainly not. I am a human being and have the right to----"</p> - -<p>"You have the right to do nothing," broke in her father desperately. -"See here, my girl, you are making a great mistake by not letting me -guide you. Had you been open about that amethyst cross, I should never -have allowed you to give it to George Walker. Its possession means -more than you think. The two thousand a year depends upon its -production."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Lesbia opened her eyes widely. "I see. Then you are willing that -I should marry George if you get this two thousand."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Hale bluntly, "but for circumstances which do not concern -you--I prefer that you should marry Sargent."</p> - -<p>"Marriage with anyone concerns me a great deal," said Lesbia coolly, -"and I decline to marry a man I do not love. As to the cross: it was -my own property left to me by my mother, and if its production will -bring me two thousand a year I am very sorry it is lost."</p> - -<p>"I did not say that it meant two thousand a year to <i>you</i>," said Hale -uneasily, and with a scowl.</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, father. I assume that, since I am the owner of the cross. -However, it is lost and neither I nor you know where to find it. That -being the case I refuse to marry Captain Sargent and shall marry -George."</p> - -<p>"You have sent him away: you forget that."</p> - -<p>"I can bring him again to my feet."</p> - -<p>"Lesbia Lesbia! you are playing with fire."</p> - -<p>"Probably, but I shall continue to play until you tell me the meaning -of all these things."</p> - -<p>"I have told you about the cross----"</p> - -<p>"Quite so," interrupted the girl drily, "and I now know why George was -assaulted and his mother's cottage robbed."</p> - -<p>"You dare to say that I am the guilty person," demanded her father -suspiciously.</p> - -<p>"Oh no. If you were, you would have the cross; and thus being able to -get the two thousand a year, you would not oppose my marriage with -George. You are innocent!"</p> - -<p>"Thank you for nothing," sneered Hale coolly, "but you can reckon on -this, Lesbia, that if I could have knocked down George and have robbed -him of the cross I should have done so."</p> - -<p>"That is candid, father."</p> - -<p>"You asked me to be candid. But, hold your tongue, or else talk sense. -You must marry Sargent. I shall not allow you to throw yourself away -on that thief, and----"</p> - -<p>"Stop!" cried Lesbia, rising indignantly, "you shall not call George -names in my hearing. He is no thief."</p> - -<p>"Can you prove that?"</p> - -<p>It was on the tip of the girl's tongue to speak out and accuse Tait. -But she first desired to see Maud Ellis in order to cut her claws, and -therefore, with a self-restraint far beyond her years, she shook her -head.</p> - -<p>Hale sneered again, "You are a silly romantic fool," he scoffed, "and -sooner or later I shall force you to do my will."</p> - -<p>"Never! Never! Never!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, very well," replied Hale, baffled by her obstinacy, "then I shall -go to London and leave you here. I shall not speak to you, or eat with -you, or have anything to do with you, until you obey me as a daughter -should," and turning on his heel, he departed in cold anger.</p> - -<p>Hale duly kept his promise and went away leaving the girl to her own -devices. But so clever a man should have known that the punishment--as -he deemed it--was no punishment at all. He had never been a father to -Lesbia in the accepted sense of the word, and she had but small -affection for him. Alone with Tim, she was much happier than when in -Mr. Hale's chilling presence, and preferred his room to his company. -Also, he was really playing into her hands, as she wished to be alone -in order to see Maud and bring her to reason. It was not Lesbia's wish -to call again at Henley, as she thought that she could deal better -with Miss Ellis when she was on her native heath. Therefore, now that -Hale was out of the way, and she was free to do what she desired, she -set to work to concoct a plot, whereby to bring Maud Ellis to the -cottage at Marlow.</p> - -<p>To this end she wrote a letter stating that she and George were to be -married shortly, and that Miss Ellis's scheme had failed. This artful -epistle she posted to Henley, hoping that if Miss Ellis was in London -it would be forwarded to her there. She felt certain--since, being a -woman, she knew woman's nature better than a man could know it--that -Maud would seek an interview and come to Rose Cottage. Of course there -was the chance that Maud might first interview Walker, and then learn -the falsity of the statement. But in that case, George would come to -learn the truth, and then she could tell him what Canning had -discovered. In fact, owing to the skilful way in which Lesbia played -her one trump card, she was certain to bring to the cottage either -Maud Ellis or George Walker: and whichever came, she was prepared to -deal with the situation. All the same, she hoped that Maud would be -the one to put in an appearance, as if she could silence her, she -could then call at the Medmenham cottage and explain to her lover the -reason why she had dismissed him. Accordingly, when the letter setting -the trap was posted, Lesbia sat down to think over the behaviour of -Walker.</p> - -<p>It puzzled her that he should so tamely accept his dismissal. On the -face of it she had treated him cruelly, and had given no reason for -abruptly breaking off the engagement. All the same, she considered, -woman-like, that he should not have acquiesced too readily to her -proposal that they should never meet again. But she forgot that George -was a proud man, and that the sole reason he could assign for her -dismissing him, was the fact that he was suspected of robbery. If she -believed him guilty--George, as she might have thought, would have -argued in this way--and had not sufficient love to stand up for him, -then she was not worthy of the worship he bestowed on her. But Lesbia -did not think thus. She only knew that she had sent George to the -right-about and that he had gone away without looking back for a -single moment. This was not as it should be, said the woman within -her, and therefore she secretly felt annoyed with Walker for his too -ready obedience. It can therefore be seen that Lesbia Hale was -intensely feminine. Perhaps on that account George loved her the more, -since the unexpected in woman is always what lures the man.</p> - -<p>However, think what she would, and argue as she might, the fact -remained that Walker kept away from Rose Cottage and that she had not -sufficient courage to face her lover, when under the wing of his -mother. Lesbia missed the golden days of wooing dreadfully, and in -their absence was anxious to carry on her counterplot, if only to fill -in the time. Besides, there would be a considerable amount of pleasure -in beating Miss Ellis with her own weapons. It was therefore a happy -day to Lesbia that brought the stockbroker's niece into the trap, as -this time the biter was about to be bitten. And Lesbia, being a woman -and dealing with a woman, determined to show no mercy since Maud had -shown none. Besides, the two were fighting over a man, and so reverted -to the ethics of cave life and pre-historic struggle.</p> - -<p>Within four days of the posting of the letter, Miss Ellis arrived and -was shown by Tim into the tiny drawing-room. It was empty, as Lesbia -had seen her rival coming, and therefore had departed to change her -frock. Also she hoped to make Maud lose her temper by enforced -waiting, knowing that if she did, there would be less difficulty in -dealing with her. Unsophisticated as Lesbia was, she instinctively -knew how to fight. Her tactics were correct, for when she entered -spick and span and smiling into the drawing-room, she found Maud -fuming restlessly, and quite ready to pick a quarrel on the score of -uncivil treatment.</p> - -<p>"I have been kept waiting," said Miss Ellis in a Louis XIV tone, and -putting up a lorgnette to glare at her much too beautiful rival.</p> - -<p>"I am so sorry," responded Lesbia politely. "But I was not dressed to -receive anyone, and your visit is unexpected."</p> - -<p>Maud laughed contemptuously. "You knew that I would come," she -declared with conviction. "You have been looking out for me every -day."</p> - -<p>"<i>You</i> say so," said Lesbia, still graciously, for since the last -interview at Henley, she had changed her tactics with Miss Ellis. -"Will you not be seated? This chair is most comfortable, it has its -back to the light."</p> - -<p>"I don't need to sit with my back to the light," flashed Maud -indignantly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I beg pardon, but from that lorgnette I thought that your eyes -might be weak. Sit here then, in the full warmth of the sunshine."</p> - -<p>But Miss Ellis knew better than to let the searching light reveal her -age too clearly to her hostess. "I'll sit here," she declared -abruptly, and came to rest on the sofa.</p> - -<p>"That's right," said Lesbia caressingly, "It's a nice shady corner."</p> - -<p>Maud bit her lip, knowing perfectly well that Lesbia was casting a -reflection on her age. But having taken the seat she could scarcely -leave it without laying herself open to further pointed remarks, so -she remained where she was and came to the object of her visit at -once. "What do you mean by writing me this letter?" she demanded, -producing the epistle of her hostess.</p> - -<p>"I mean to show you that your plot to part George and myself has -failed."</p> - -<p>Miss Ellis crushed up the letter savagely. "Has it," she inquired, -"seeing that you have broken your engagement?"</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Walker told me. And very glad she is I can tell you. Mrs. Walker -is an old friend of my uncle's and has known me for years. She wants -George to marry me. She told me so only a few days ago."</p> - -<p>"As if it mattered what she said," retorted Lesbia contemptuously.</p> - -<p>"She is George's mother."</p> - -<p>"No one denies that."</p> - -<p>"And as he is her son, he should obey her."</p> - -<p>"Even when she wants him to marry a woman he cares nothing for."</p> - -<p>"George does care for me," cried Maud, a deep flush overspreading her -face even to the roots of her sandy hair. "I admit that when he was -engaged to you, he would not look at me. But now that you have thrown -him over so cruelly, he has turned to me for consolation."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe it," said Lesbia quickly.</p> - -<p>"You must, you shall," snapped Miss Ellis very much in earnest. "Look -here, this sort of thing won't do."</p> - -<p>"What sort of thing?"</p> - -<p>"This enmity you have towards me. I don't know why you are behaving so -exasperatingly," wailed Maud plaintively. "When you came to Henley, it -was the first time we met, and for your father's sake I was anxious to -make a friend of you. But you were so rude and so silly that I could -not. But I am willing to make every allowance for your want of -training, and so I have come here to ask you to be friends."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't mind, provided you will leave George alone."</p> - -<p>"I shan't, so there. I love him."</p> - -<p>"So do I. And as he loves me I have the prior claim."</p> - -<p>"But you have broken your engagement and so have left the field open -to me. Don't be a dog in the manger."</p> - -<p>"I am not. I love George and I have always loved him. I sent the -letter I did because of what my father told me. You lured George into -a trap, and--as you said yourself at Henley--you can get him arrested. -Because of your attitude I was compelled to dismiss him, or see him -ruined."</p> - -<p>Miss Ellis put up her lorgnette with an air of triumph. "You have -stated the case accurately, save for one remark," she declared. "I -<i>can</i> ruin George Walker, and I shall do so unless he marries me. But -I did not lure him into a trap. I merely took advantage of -circumstances."</p> - -<p>"Which you knew existed."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> - -<p>"What I say," retorted Lesbia, keeping her eyes on Maud's face. "You -appointed that place and that hour of meeting in order to implicate -George in a robbery which you knew was about to take place."</p> - -<p>Miss Ellis sprang to her feet with a white face and trembling hands. -"You go too far," she said, in a suffocating voice. "Why should -I?--Why should I?--Oh," she stamped, "your remarks are infamous."</p> - -<p>"They are true."</p> - -<p>"It's a lie! they are not true. I had no idea that my uncle's -strong-room was to be robbed of those jewels on that night and at that -hour. If I had known I should have prevented the robbery."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Tait would not have thanked you for doing so," replied Lesbia -meaningly.</p> - -<p>"Are you mad?" gasped Maud, and her face became a dull brick-red.</p> - -<p>"No," answered Lesbia drily, "I am merely well-informed."</p> - -<p>"Informed of what?" Miss Ellis moistened her dry lips.</p> - -<p>"That Mr. Tait wanted money to tide over a financial crisis, and -arranged to have the jewels stolen, so that he could sell them -secretly."</p> - -<p>"It's a lie--a lie," cried Maud again, and the perspiration broke out -on her quivering face; "my uncle is a wealthy man: everyone knows -that. If he wanted money he could have sold the jewels openly--they -were his own."</p> - -<p>"You forget the insurance at Lloyd's."</p> - -<p>Maud dropped on to the sofa as though she had been shot. "The -insurance?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Mr. Tait insured those jewels for something like twenty thousand -pounds, and so had them stolen. Certainly he could have sold them -openly, as you say, but then he would have got only half the money he -requires."</p> - -<p>"Half the money?" Maud gasped again, and suddenly looked double her -age.</p> - -<p>"Of course, twenty thousand pounds. By insuring the jewels and by -having them stolen, he will gain the proceeds of the sale he has -arranged with the thieves, besides the twenty thousand from the -insurance."</p> - -<p>"You dare--to--accuse--my--oh," Maud jumped up fiercely and stamped -angrily, "it is ridiculous; what proof have you of this absurd tale?"</p> - -<p>"I have absolute proof," said Lesbia quietly and rising in her turn. -"Mr. Canning--The Shadow--who watched me here at my father's request, -found out what I say and, if necessary, he can prove the truth of what -he found out. And he will, at my request, if you do not promise to -leave George alone and swear that you will not accuse him of a crime -of which--as you knew all the time--he is innocent."</p> - -<p>But Maud heard only half this speech. "Canning, The Shadow," she -muttered, "do you mean Captain Sargent's valet?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I nursed him through an illness, and he has shown his gratitude -to me by discovering your uncle's plot, and proving your knowledge of -it. I can prove what I say with Canning's assistance, and I shall do -so, unless you promise to do as I have asked you."</p> - -<p>Maud buttoned her jacket with trembling hands and moved towards the -door hastily. "You are talking rubbish," she muttered in a thick -voice. "I refuse to talk of the matter. It is too silly. But," she -faced round, "I shall tell my uncle, and he shall have you put in -gaol."</p> - -<p>"He will be in gaol himself," retorted Lesbia "As soon as you leave -this house, I shall arrange with Mr. Canning to go to the police and -state what he told me."</p> - -<p>"You would not dare."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I would, unless you swear not to accuse George and promise to -leave him to me. I said that before: I say so again, and for the last -time."</p> - -<p>"It's a----" Maud was about to say that it was a lie for the third -time, but the word died away on her lips. Whether Maud was cognizant -of the plot to steal the jewels Lesbia could not say, as she made no -remark on this point: but her very silence showed that she was in the -business. Lesbia's attitude left her no alternative but to make terms, -since if she left the house, there was every danger that her uncle -might be arrested. "If I do what you ask, will you hold your tongue?" -Maud demanded faintly.</p> - -<p>"Then you admit that what I say is true?" countered Miss Hale.</p> - -<p>"No," almost shouted Miss Ellis, "I do not. Still, mud sticks however -wrongly thrown, and I do not want my uncle to suffer through me. As to -Canning, oh, my uncle will deal with him I promise you. Not a word. I -agree to all you ask. I must. I shall not accuse George: I shall leave -him to you and," she leaned forward with a snarl, "I shall bring -misery on you at the eleventh hour."</p> - -<p>"I defy you," retorted Lesbia with scorn.</p> - -<p>"Very good." Maud smiled in an evil way. "We shall see who wins the -dangerous game you are playing. I----" she broke off abruptly and left -in haste.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">CHAPTER XIII</a></h4> -<h5>MRS. WALKER'S VISIT</h5> -<br> - -<p>The meeting of the two girls who loved George seemed destined to end -abruptly. On the first occasion Lesbia had broken short the interview -at Henley, and on the second Maud had hastened away from Rose Cottage. -Lesbia wondered that she had not remained to talk further, and was -rather anxious when she remembered that Maud had left with a threat on -her lips. Miss Ellis was clever and cunning and reckless, and in one -way or another might work mischief. Not that Lesbia saw any chance of -her doing any, since she knew too much for Maud's peace of mind. -Without doubt what Canning had discovered was true, else Maud would -not have surrendered so easily. Lesbia thought until she was weary -about the matter, and especially how Canning could have discovered the -truth so speedily. She would have asked him point-blank in spite of -his prohibition, but that he was in London. And as yet he had not -written to tell where he was hiding.</p> - -<p>However, as things stood, there was no doubt that Maud would keep her -promise, and that George was safe. On the day after the stockbroker's -niece had paid her visit, Lesbia wrote a long letter to Walker, and -detailed all that Canning had discovered and also narrated its effect -on Maud Ellis. Further, she gave George to understand how she had been -compelled to write the letter of dismissal, and ended up with a fond -wish that her lover should come and see her at once. When this letter -was posted Lesbia began to dream of Walker's speedy return, and -haunted the garden in order to see his boat coming swiftly down the -river.</p> - -<p>But the boat never came, nor did any letter from George. Day after day -Lesbia watched the stream: watched also the postman, but in every case -she was disappointed. Walker must have received the letter, else it -would have been returned through the Dead Letter Office, so it was -strange, seeing how she had explained matters, that he did not appear. -Or at least he might have written. The girl wearying for love grew -peaked and wan, much to the distress of Tim, who could not understand. -Finally, Lesbia told him the whole story, and sent him over to the -cottage at Medmenham to see if Walker had received the letter. Tim -returned somewhat downcast.</p> - -<p>"Masther Garge has been in London these six days," said Tim, "and the -misthress--his blissid mother, towld me she'd sint the letter to him. -He's got it, me dear, but the divil knows why he doesn't write ye the -scratch av a pen. Augh, me dear, nivir trouble him again. Sure there's -more fish in the say nor ivir come out av that same."</p> - -<p>"George is the only man in the world for me," said Lesbia firmly, -although the tears were in her eyes, "and I'll never give him up, -until I hear him say that he loves another. This is Miss Ellis's -work."</p> - -<p>"Och murder, me dear, it's a baste she is entoirely. But from what ye -towld me, Miss, ye drew the teeth av her."</p> - -<p>"She went away with a threat," sighed Lesbia dismally. "She can't -force my George to marry her now; but evidently she can prevent his -returning to me as I want him to. Oh Tim, what am I to do now?"</p> - -<p>"See Masther Garge and ask him plain, Miss."</p> - -<p>"But I have not the money to go to London, and besides, I do not know -where George is stopping," protested Lesbia, wringing her hands.</p> - -<p>"See his ould mother, the saints be good to her! for an iceberg she -is," suggested Tim after a pause. "Sure she'll tell ye where he is, me -dear."</p> - -<p>"No, Tim, no. Mrs. Walker hates my father, and would rather die than -see her son become my husband."</p> - -<p>"Hates the masther, is ut?" muttered the crooked little man frowning. -"And if so, me darlin' heart, why shud she come to see him?"</p> - -<p>"Come to see him," echoed Lesbia staring, "why Mrs. Walker has never -been here to see my father in her life. I understood from George that -she hated my father. In that case she will never come here. If she did -come," sighed Lesbia, "I might soften her heart so that she might be -on my side. I am sure I could win her over."</p> - -<p>"Well, Miss Lesbia, ye can but try, for the ould woman is coming here -to-morrow afternoon to see the masther."</p> - -<p>"But he's away, Tim."</p> - -<p>"Sure, Miss, he sint me the scratch av a pin sayin' he was coming back -this very day. I towld the ould woman, whin she axed me, so she's -coming to have a talk wid him. An' the divil will make a third wid -them two," muttered Tim crossing himself, "saints kape us from harm!"</p> - -<p>Lesbia was much astonished at this news, as Mrs. Walker had never been -to Rose Cottage before, and moreover--on the word of her son--she both -despised and hated Mr. Hale. The girl wondered if the visit had -anything to do with the letter she had lately written to George. -Perhaps Maud's threat had meant that she would enlist Mrs. Walker on -her side to stop the marriage, since Maud herself, for obvious -reasons, was powerless to do so. But then, in any case, Mrs. Walker -disapproved of the marriage, so there was no need for Maud to -interfere. Also, if the letter had been forwarded to George in -London--and Lesbia saw no reason why it should not have been -forwarded--he must have received the same. If so, why did he not -reply, seeing that she had completely exonerated herself, and was -anxious to renew the engagement which for George's own sake she had -been forced to break? Poor Lesbia thought over these questions until -she was weary and her head ached, but she could find no reply. The -only thing to be done, was to wait until the formidable Mrs. Walker -arrived: then a few minutes' conversation with her might reveal the -reason of George's strange behaviour.</p> - -<p>Mr. Hale duly returned, and seemed even angrier and more sullen than -he had been before he went away. He scarcely spoke to his daughter, -and several times he looked at her with positive dread in his usually -cold eyes. It appeared as though he considered Lesbia as a careless -child with a box of matches, who might at any moment set the house on -fire. Lesbia had a feeling that he was terribly angry with her, and -yet that this anger was mixed with a certain amount of dread. However, -he contented himself with looking daggers, and to avoid further -disturbances, she did not ask him any questions. But the house was -very uncomfortable. Then at breakfast next morning, on the day when -Mrs. Walker was expected, Hale surprised the girl by announcing an -invitation.</p> - -<p>"I saw Lord Charvington when I was in town," said Hale, keeping his -pale eyes on his plate. "For some reason he chose to remember your -existence."</p> - -<p>Lesbia gasped, and wondered if Charvington had told her father of the -money she had borrowed. In that case Hale would question her as to the -use she had made of it, and then her counterplot with Canning would -come to light with disastrous results. But Hale's further conversation -made it plain that Charvington had said nothing about the loan.</p> - -<p>"He asked how you were," pursued Hale softly, and still keeping his -eyes on his plate, "and if you had grown up a pretty girl. He hasn't -seen you for a long time, remember. Considering how badly you have -behaved, Lesbia, I spoke better of you than you deserved, so -Charvington--prepare yourself for a surprise--has asked you to stop at -his country-house. He told me that his wife would send you the -invitation."</p> - -<p>"It is very good of him," said Lesbia faintly. "But I really do not -want to go, father."</p> - -<p>Hale looked up with a scowl. "Always opposition," he grumbled, "you -<i>shall</i> go, child. If you won't marry Sargent, there will be a chance -of your making a good match when under Lady Charvington's wing. She -has daughters of her own, too, so you will have a very good time."</p> - -<p>"Why should Lord Charvington ask me?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say. . . . He suddenly seems to have remembered your -existence. Of course, as my daughter you are related to him. However, -the chance of a visit at such a country house is a very good one for -you, so get ready to start when the invitation comes. Do you want any -frocks, or----"</p> - -<p>"No. I have everything," said Lesbia, rising; "after all perhaps the -change will do me good, and I should like to see a little of the -world."</p> - -<p>"You will see plenty of it with Charvington and his wife. They are a -gay couple, and entertain largely. They are at their country seat near -Maidenhead for a week; but if you play your cards well Lady -Charvington may take you to London for the rest of the season."</p> - -<p>Lesbia nodded and went into the garden. Here she sat on the bench -under the chestnut, and thought over the glittering prospect which was -now open to her. She loved George and was contented with the quiet -life, provided he shared it with her. But as he was absent and was -behaving so very strangely, she thought that it would be best to -plunge into society if only to forget her aching heart. And if George -would not marry her, it might be that she would meet with some other -man, who would take her away from the uncomfortable life with her -father. In her own heart Lesbia knew that she could love no one but -George Walker. Still she could not force him to marry her, and he -appeared to have accepted her letter of dismissal as final in spite of -the second epistle stating why she wrote the first. The poor girl felt -very sad and very lonely, and her tears rained down, salt and bitter, -as she sat a solitary figure under the glorious tree. The blackbird -was piping again, as he had done when George proposed; but it seemed -to her ears that the song was now sad. But that probably was mere -fancy.</p> - -<p>At one o'clock Lesbia returned to the cottage, wondering why all these -troubles had come upon her. It really seemed as though Tim's idea -about the bad luck of the cross was true, for ever since she had -bestowed it on her lover there had been nothing but sorrow and -mystery. Even George had not escaped misfortune, since he had been -assaulted and robbed, and had lost his situation through being accused -unjustly of a crime he had never committed. But Lesbia was a reader of -fairy tales, and remembered that the prince and princess always have -much grief before peace and joy arrive, so she hoped that in some -way--she could not see how--the bad luck which was upon her and George -would pass away leaving them married and rich and happy. But, at -present, it must be confessed that there did not appear to be much -chance of such good fortune.</p> - -<p>"The ould woman has come this very minit," whispered Tim, meeting the -girl at the back door. "I've put her in the parlour, but the masther -is out."</p> - -<p>"My father is certain to come into luncheon," said Lesbia hurriedly.</p> - -<p>"Av coorse he is," muttered Tim, "a mighty dainty man he is fur the -inside av him. But she's axing for you, Miss, and----"</p> - -<p>"I'll go to her," interrupted Lesbia, "meanwhile, Tim, lay another -place at the table. I daresay Mrs. Walker is hungry."</p> - -<p>With these instructions Lesbia sought the small parlour, and entered -to find it occupied by a modern Lady Macbeth. Mrs. Walker clothed in -rich but funereal-looking garments of the deepest black was seated -majestically on the sofa. Without rising she raised a pair of piercing -eyes to look at the girl, and a brief expression of surprise flitted -across her impassive face. She had scarcely expected to find the girl -so beautiful, as she had always taken her son's enthusiastic -descriptions with a grain of salt. However, she privately admitted -that George was right for once and she greeted the girl with stiff -kindness. And indeed it was hard even for a lady of Mrs. Walker's hard -nature to be angry with Lesbia, who looked such a child, and who -behaved so sweetly.</p> - -<p>"I am very glad to see you," said Mrs. Walker, looking anxiously into -the girl's delicate face. "You remind me of someone who--no, I can't -recall of whom you remind me. Still--" she searched anxiously--"you -are very like someone I knew."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps my mother," Lesbia ventured to remark. "My late nurse, -Bridget Burke, told me I closely resembled my mother."</p> - -<p>"I never met your mother," said Mrs. Walker, dropping Lesbia's hand -quickly and becoming stiffer than ever. "Your father and I were never -friends, my dear. I should not be here to-day, save that I have come -to ask him about some business connected with money I expect to -inherit. Also," added Mrs. Walker unexpectedly, "I wanted to see you. -George had talked much of you, my child, and seems to have loved you -greatly. I can't blame him, and the wonder is that he should give you -up."</p> - -<p>Lesbia clasped her small hands and sank into a chair, her face white -and her eyes widely open. "George has never given me up," she said -faintly. "I wrote and told him why I was forced to send him the first -letter, and----"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes!" Mrs. Walker waved a beautifully-gloved hand. "I was in -London the other day--in fact I took your letter to George. He showed -it to me and told me everything."</p> - -<p>"And what did you say?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker's deep, black brows drew together. "Of course the whole -thing is rubbish," she said harshly, "and only a love-sick girl like -Maud Ellis would act in that way. I suppose much must be forgiven her, -as she really loves my son. But after her behaviour, I shall never -consent to her marrying him. No! no! That would never do. Especially, -now that we know her uncle is such a rogue. I wanted George to tell -the police, but he refused."</p> - -<p>Lesbia cared very little for the fate of Tait. What she much desired -to know was her own. "You said that George has ceased to care for me," -she remarked with a pale smile. "I don't understand."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker gave her a pitying look. "Nor do I, now that I have seen -you, my dear. I don't like your father--I never did, and I would -rather have died than have seen George marrying his daughter. Your -looks and nature have made me change my mind. There is nothing of your -father about you. Had I seen you before----" Mrs. Walker broke off and -shook her stately head, "but it is too late. George will not renew the -engagement."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I can't believe that," cried the girl weeping and trembling.</p> - -<p>"Strange," muttered the elder woman, "you have been quite a heroine in -clearing George's character, for which I am greatly obliged to you. -Yet here you are crying like a schoolgirl."</p> - -<p>"I love him so much: I love him so deeply."</p> - -<p>"My poor child, it is the fate of women to have their hearts broken. I -do not know why George still refuses to renew the engagement in the -face of your letter, but he does. Here," Mrs. Walker took an envelope -out of her bag and handed it to the shaking girl, "you can read his -decision in his own handwriting. He asked me to give you this."</p> - -<p>With great delicacy she turned away her head, while Lesbia tore open -the envelope with shaking hands. There were only a few lines, but -these intimated plainly that George had accepted his dismissal, and -would not seek to renew the engagement. "I love you still, my -dearest," wrote Walker in conclusion, "but Fate wills that we must -part for ever." Then there were a few tender words, and the epistle -ended abruptly, as though the writer could not trust his emotions. -Lesbia read the lines, folded the letter and replaced it in the -envelope which she put into her pocket. Her eyes were dry now, and her -white face was flushed with colour. With a deep sigh she touched the -elder woman on the shoulder, "I understand," she said calmly.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker, whose sympathies--remarkably in so cold a woman--were now -entirely with Lesbia, grew snappy to conceal her emotion. "I don't," -she said acidly, "and when George returns to Medmenham I shall have an -explanation with him. He's a fool."</p> - -<p>"No," said Lesbia, her face growing even a deeper red. "Can't you see -that George is only acting in this way to save me?"</p> - -<p>"To save you from what?" asked Mrs. Walker shortly.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I can't say," Lesbia spoke more to herself than to her -visitor. "But I feel sure that George wrote this letter as I wrote my -first one to him. I wrote to save him, and now he refuses to renew our -engagement to save me. I don't understand, still--oh I am sure that -everything will come right. I trust in God."</p> - -<p>"You do well to do so," said Mrs. Walker gravely, "for only He can -help you, my child. I am thoroughly puzzled, and know not what to -say."</p> - -<p>"Say nothing: do nothing," cried Lesbia eagerly. "Things will work out -to a happy end in their due time."</p> - -<p>"You are sure of that?"</p> - -<p>"I am certain."</p> - -<p>"Then," said Mrs. Walker grimly, "you must have a sixth sense which I -do not possess. However, I am glad that you have not given way to -hysteria. You are a brave girl, and I would rather have you for my -daughter-in-law than I would any one else, in spite of your father. -There," Mrs. Walker bent forward and actually kissed the girl's lips. -"That shows I mean what I say."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Lesbia returned the kiss, blushing divinely, "George said that -you hated me, and----"</p> - -<p>"How could I hate a girl I had never seen?" snapped Mrs. Walker, -ashamed of her momentary humanity. "I hate your father, and--well -there, say no more about the matter. I hope with all my heart that -things will turn out well for you and George, as you appear to think -they will. Meanwhile while we are waiting for your father, tell me -about the amethyst cross."</p> - -<p>Lesbia started to her feet in astonishment. "The cross," she echoed. -"I have lost it. You know that I gave it to----"</p> - -<p>"Yes! Yes!" Mrs. Walker waved her hand impatiently. "I know about the -robbery and how no one can find the cross. It must be found, -nevertheless. But I wish to learn exactly how it came into your -possession. George told me something about the matter, but like a man -he told it very badly. For this reason I have come to see you, as well -as Mr. Hale, whom I detest," added Mrs. Walker severely. "Where did -you get the cross?"</p> - -<p>"From my mother. That is, the cross belonged to her. She left it to my -nurse Bridget Burke----"</p> - -<p>"Where is she?"</p> - -<p>"Dead. She died some time ago."</p> - -<p>"Unlucky," muttered Mrs. Walker with a dark look. "Well?"</p> - -<p>"My mother told Bridget to give it to me, and to tell me that I was -never to part with it save to the man I loved. Then you know"--Lesbia -blushed again--"I gave it to George."</p> - -<p>"Yes. I know of that and of the loss. I said so before. But how did -the cross come into your mother's possession?"</p> - -<p>Lesbia shook her head. "I really cannot tell you."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker frowned again, and turned her steely eyes towards the -door. Her quick ears had caught a soft foot-fall, and her quick eyes -had seen the half-open door move. "Come in, Mr. Hale," she said -loudly, "we are saying nothing which you cannot hear."</p> - -<p>Hale, who apparently had been listening, entered, looking perfectly -cool and composed. "The cross did not belong to Lesbia's mother," he -said quietly, but the look in his eyes as they rested on Mrs. Walker -was not pleasant.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">CHAPTER XIV</a></h4> -<h5>THE FAMILY LAWYER</h5> -<br> - -<p>Lesbia uttered an exclamation when she heard the astonishing remark of -her father, and started to her feet. But Mrs. Walker, grimly silent, -kept her seat and glared, like Medusa, on the newcomer. If she could -have turned him into stone she would willingly have done so, as could -be seen from the expression of her hard eyes. Hale, perfectly cool, in -spite of the insulting speech which she made, took a chair and looked -at her with deliberate insolence. Also deliberately he reverted to her -insult.</p> - -<p>"I was just passing along to the dining-room," he explained slowly, -"when I heard voices and your last question. I entered at once and was -not eavesdropping, as you are pleased to say."</p> - -<p>"There is no need to excuse yourself," said Mrs. Walker tartly, -"for----"</p> - -<p>Hale crossed his legs and leaned back. "In my own house I think not."</p> - -<p>"For I don't believe a word you say," she finished harshly.</p> - -<p>"Naturally you would not," rejoined Mr. Hale smoothly; "you were -always a hard and suspicious woman."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker moved her hands restlessly, and her eyes gleamed fiercer -than ever. "You know better than that," she muttered. "Take your mind -back thirty years."</p> - -<p>"Willingly," said Hale, with great promptness. "Do you wish us to -speak of the past in Lesbia's presence?"</p> - -<p>This time he scored, for Mrs. Walker winced. "There is no need for the -child to hear old stories," she remarked, with suppressed passion. -"Let us discuss what I have come to see you about."</p> - -<p>"The cross?"</p> - -<p>"Oh," she flashed scornfully, "I thought you were not eavesdropping?"</p> - -<p>"I admitted that I heard your last question," said Hale, with a shrug, -"but you never would listen."</p> - -<p>"I am listening now. Say what you have to say."</p> - -<p>"I have said all that I intend to say, Mrs. Walker. The amethyst cross -did not belong to Lesbia's mother."</p> - -<p>The girl uttered another exclamation; she was lost in astonishment. -"But, father," she remonstrated, "Bridget told me on her -death-bed----"</p> - -<p>"What she told you was what I instructed her to say," interrupted Hale -imperiously. "But your mother--my wife--never possessed such an -ornament."</p> - -<p>Lesbia looked at him doubtfully. Of late, she had suspected that her -father was not above telling a falsehood to serve his own private -ends, and in the face of what she knew, it appeared as though he was -telling one now--why, she could not conjecture. While she was trying -to puzzle out the reason, Mrs. Walker rose and swept across to the -window of the drawing-room which looked out into the road. "I don't -see him yet," she muttered to herself, and consulted a bracelet-watch -attached to her left wrist.</p> - -<p>"Are you expecting anyone?" asked Hale politely. "Mr. Jabez, my family -lawyer," she replied curtly, and returned to her seat.</p> - -<p>Hale raised his eyebrows and looked more gentlemanly than ever; also a -trifle dangerous. "You asked him to my house?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, because I want to hear all about the cross. Oh, I know well that -you do not wish to see Mr. Jabez, Walter, but----"</p> - -<p>"You call me Walter," said Hale, and suddenly flushed.</p> - -<p>"A slip of the tongue," retorted Mrs. Walker, also growing red. "The -time is long past when I could call you so. You are Mr. Hale to me."</p> - -<p>"Then why not call me so?" demanded the man coolly.</p> - -<p>"I will do so in future," said Mrs. Walker, and bit her lip in silent -rage at having given him an opportunity of scoring. "But I know that -Mr. Jabez is too well acquainted with the seamy side of your life for -you to care about meeting him."</p> - -<p>Hale shrugged his shoulders. "He was my family lawyer as he is yours," -he answered in icy tones, "and one confesses much to one's lawyer, -which one would hesitate to say to others. I can depend upon the -secrecy of Jabez as to my misfortunes."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Mrs. Walker laughed scornfully, "you call them by that name."</p> - -<p>"It suits them best. As to Jabez, I have no hesitation in meeting him. -But I prefer to choose my own visitors."</p> - -<p>"You certainly would not choose Mr. Jabez," said the elder woman -insultingly. "However, I have taken advantage of your easy-going -nature"--she was very sarcastic--"to invite Mr. Jabez to meet me here, -so that we may discuss the whereabouts of the cross."</p> - -<p>"How can we discuss what we cannot and do not know?" asked Hale, with -a contemptuous look. "You are still the same woman, Judith, headstrong -and----"</p> - -<p>"Don't call me that name!" she said sharply.</p> - -<p>"A slip of the tongue merely, such as you made just now," sneered -Hale; "but all this is very unpleasant for Lesbia. Don't you think -that while we quarrel she had better leave the room?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker drew Lesbia down on to the sofa beside her, and retained -the girl's hand within her own. "No," she said sternly, "I am not -going to quarrel with you, Mr. Hale. Besides, I wish Lesbia to be -here, so that she may hear somewhat of the past."</p> - -<p>"Why should she?" asked Hale hastily.</p> - -<p>"I want her to marry George."</p> - -<p>"You--want--her--to--marry--George," repeated Hale astonished, "my -daughter!"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker looked at him straight. "You may well be surprised," she -said quietly, "especially as you know through my son that I was set -against this marriage, and with good reason let me remind you, Mr. -Hale. But now that I have seen Lesbia"--she drew the girl closer--"I -see no reason why the sins of the father should be visited upon the -child. Lesbia shall be my dear daughter, and I welcome her with joy."</p> - -<p>"I have something to say to that. She shall never be your -daughter-in-law, since it is better to be explicit as to -relationship."</p> - -<p>"We'll see about that."</p> - -<p>"Quite so. You are a clever woman, Judith, but I am also a clever -man."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Mrs. Walker winced again at his using her Christian name. "We -had better not begin about your qualities. Lesbia would certainly have -to leave the room then."</p> - -<p>"Don't shame me in the presence of my child, madam," said Hale -thickly, and the veins on his forehead began to swell with anger.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon," said Mrs. Walker with a careless laugh, "I forgot -how you have deceived her into thinking you an angel."</p> - -<p>Hale suddenly rose, and walked to the window. He was in a furious rage -and was trying to keep himself cool, since he knew that any loss of -temper would give Mrs. Walker an advantage which he did not intend her -to gain. She sat quietly smoothing Lesbia's hand, with glittering eyes -quite ready to continue hostilities as soon as her enemy recovered his -breath. Lesbia herself remained passive, wondering what all the -trouble was about. Neither the one nor the other of the disputants -hinted sufficient to enlighten her as to the reasons why they were at -enmity. Hale certainly might have said something more to the point, as -he was rapidly losing control of his temper, but as he turned from the -window, there came a ring at the front door of the cottage. "Here is -Jabez," said Hale, coming back to his seat. "I am glad he has arrived, -if only to stop your tongue."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Jabez knows all that I can say," remarked Mrs. Walker grimly, and -became silent.</p> - -<p>With wide-open eyes, Lesbia sat waiting quietly to see what would -happen next. This duel of three--as it appeared to be, was as -fantastic as that in which Mr. Midshipman Easy fought. Moreover, the -girl was so bewildered by the hints dropped of a disagreement between -Mrs. Walker and her father, of which she knew nothing, that she was -trying hard to collect her scattered senses in order to take in future -events more clearly.</p> - -<p>Mr. Jabez announced his presence in the passage by a dry, hard cough -before he was introduced to the company by Tim Burke. He was a meagre -man of medium height with a bald head, a hatchet face, a pair of eyes -the colour of which could not be seen because of blue spectacles, and -a loose figure invested in well-fitting dark clothes. He looked -somewhat like a certain type of American, but when he opened his -mouth, he spoke very precise English. For the rest, he seemed -unemotional and very much addicted to dry business details. No one -could have called Mr. Jabez an interesting person, but he appeared to -know his business and the value of his time, upon which he placed a -high price.</p> - -<p>"Good-day! Good-day! Good-day!" he said severally to the three people -in the room with a little nod to each. "Mr. Hale, I apologise for -calling uninvited at your cottage, but Mrs. Walker, who wished for the -meeting here, must make my excuses. This is your daughter: a very -handsome young lady. I shall take this chair, with my back to the -light, as my eyes are somewhat weak. For that reason I wear blue -spectacles. Now," Mr. Jabez had gained possession of a comfortable -chair by this time, "let us come to business, as I have to return to -London within the hour, Mrs. Walker!"</p> - -<p>Thus addressed Mrs. Walker, as grim as Jabez himself, and as impatient -of wasting time, spoke to the point. "I asked you here, Mr. Jabez, to -meet Mr. Hale with whom," she added venomously, "we are both -exceedingly well acquainted."</p> - -<p>"Quite so--quite so," interrupted the lawyer with his dry cough, "but -it would be as well to avoid personal remarks. They do no good and -take up valuable time. Go on, Mrs. Walker."</p> - -<p>"I want to hear what Mr. Hale has to say about the amethyst cross," -said the widow with a dark look at her enemy.</p> - -<p>"I have nothing to say about it," retorted Hale, nursing his chin with -his hand and leaning back with crossed legs, apparently indifferent.</p> - -<p>"Pardon me, but you have much to say," remarked Jabez precisely. "So -far I merely know on the authority of Mrs. Walker--that the cross was -given to this young lady," he nodded very curtly towards Lesbia, "and -that in her turn she passed it to Mr. George Walker."</p> - -<p>"That is true," admitted Lesbia, seeing that she was called upon to -speak. "I was told by Bridget----"</p> - -<p>"Who is Bridget?" interrupted Jabez keenly.</p> - -<p>"My late nurse. She is dead."</p> - -<p>Jabez shook his bald head. "T'cht! T'cht! T'cht! That is a pity. Go -on."</p> - -<p>"Bridget told me that I was to give the cross only to the man I -loved. I therefore gave it to George. He was assaulted for it on the -towing-path and as it could not be found upon him, his room at -Medmenham was robbed."</p> - -<p>Jabez nodded. "Mrs. Walker told me all this," he said quietly, "and -the cross has never been found."</p> - -<p>"No," said Mrs. Walker.</p> - -<p>"No," said Mr. Hale.</p> - -<p>"No!" said Lesbia.</p> - -<p>"All are agreed," smiled the lawyer drily, "a most unanimous opinion. -I understand," he addressed Lesbia again, "that your mother originally -owned this cross and gave it to your nurse. Mrs. Walker, on the -authority of her son, told me as much."</p> - -<p>"I understood that the cross had belonged to my mother," replied -Lesbia, nervously glancing at her father. "Bridget told me so, when -she gave it to me on her death-bed."</p> - -<p>"Then she told you wrongly," said Mr. Hale, "and at my request."</p> - -<p>"Why?" demanded Jabez, turning towards his unwilling host.</p> - -<p>"Because the cross belonged to another woman, and I did not want that -known in case someone should claim it."</p> - -<p>"Ha!" said Mrs. Walker darkly. "And why did you wish to keep it?"</p> - -<p>"I--I--liked the ornament," confessed Hale hesitating, and quite -forgetting the sentimental reason he had given to his daughter as to -the desire to keep the cross because it had been the property of his -late wife.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker laughed scornfully. "I believe you know the reason why the -cross is so valuable," she snapped.</p> - -<p>"Yes, he does," chimed in Lesbia, who was determined to learn the -reason of all this mystery. "He says that if produced it will bring -him two thousand a year."</p> - -<p>"Lesbia!" Hale jumped to his feet and looked furious. "How dare you?"</p> - -<p>"How dare I?" she cried, rising in her turn. "Because you will not -trust me, father, and I am in the dark. The cross is mine, and I have -a right to know all that concerns it. Does the production of the cross -mean gain to my father of two thousand a year?" she asked the lawyer.</p> - -<p>"It means that if a certain person produces the cross to me," -explained Mr. Jabez, "fifty thousand pounds will----"</p> - -<p>"Let me explain," interrupted Mrs. Walker sharply. "Lesbia, the cross -is needed to prove the identity of my sister Kate. My father left her -the sum of fifty thousand pounds. She eloped with a man of whom he -disapproved, and has not appeared to claim the money. We don't know if -she is living or dead, and----"</p> - -<p>"Ah!" broke in Hale, "this is what George told me."</p> - -<p>"Yes," flashed out Mrs. Walker, turning towards him, "and for that -reason you know the value of the cross."</p> - -<p>"Oh," Hale shrugged his shoulders, "I knew that long ago."</p> - -<p>"Then why did you not produce it?"</p> - -<p>"Because I thought it was lost. If the cross belonged to your sister -Kate, Mrs. Walker, I knew her."</p> - -<p>"She was not your wife," cried Mrs. Walker savagely, "You were not the -man she ran away with."</p> - -<p>"I never said that I was," rejoined Hale coolly. "No. Hear what I have -to say. When I was living at Wimbledon with my wife--Lesbia's -mother--we one day found a woman unconscious in the snow. My wife, who -was a Good Samaritan, revived her and took her in. She died, but -before drawing her last breath, she told me that she was Katherine -Morse----"</p> - -<p>"That was my sister's maiden name. But she married the man she ran -away with."</p> - -<p>"She never told me so," said Hale coolly. "She died in my wife's arms -and is buried in Wimbledon cemetery. The cross--as I heard from my -wife on her death-bed--she gave to my wife saying that if produced to -Mr. Simon Jabez it would be worth fifty thousand pounds. My wife gave -the cross to Bridget and did not tell me so. When she died I hunted -for the cross and could not find it. But that old hag of an Irishwoman -possessed it and held her peace. On her death-bed she gave it to -Lesbia and told her not to tell me about it. I only became aware of -its whereabouts when I saw it in your son's hand after he had proposed -to Lesbia. Then it was lost again and I don't know who has it."</p> - -<p>"What a strange story!" said Lesbia, "why did you not tell me before, -father?"</p> - -<p>Hale turned on her viciously. "You were secret with me about the -cross, so what occasion was there to tell you? Had you been open I -would have had that fifty thousand pounds long ago."</p> - -<p>"No," said Jabez, who had been listening attentively, "you were not -married to Miss Katherine Morse, and so had no claim to the money."</p> - -<p>"I claim it," cried Mrs. Walker triumphantly, "all I wanted to know -was whether my sister Kate was dead. Now you have sworn to that, and -now that we know she is buried in Wimbledon cemetery, I get the -money."</p> - -<p>"No," said Jabez again and very drily.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker rose and turned on him angrily. "You know my father's -will," she cried angrily. "One hundred thousand pounds was left -equally between myself and my sister. I had my share and my husband -spent it. Kate never came to claim her half, so by the will it reverts -to the survivor of Samuel Morse's daughters. I am the survivor so----"</p> - -<p>"You go too fast, my dear lady," said the lawyer, "and do not know the -will so thoroughly as I do. Fifty thousand pounds, which I hold, was -left to Katherine and her heirs. There may be a child or children."</p> - -<p>"Kate Morse had no child when she died in my house," said Hale -sharply. "I can prove it." He went to the door and called out, "Tim."</p> - -<p>In a few minutes, and amidst a dead silence, the crooked little man -appeared rubbing his red head. "What's your will, sor?" he asked -softly.</p> - -<p>"You remember the woman who was taken in at Wimbledon years ago?" -questioned Hale impatiently. "The woman with the amethyst cross."</p> - -<p>"Ay, sor, I mind that. I wor a bare-futted gossoon thin. Me -mother--rist her sowl!--laid out the shroud av her."</p> - -<p>"Had this woman a child with her?" asked Jabez promptly.</p> - -<p>"No, sor," said Tim unhesitatingly, "she had not. The only child in -the house wor Miss Lesbia here."</p> - -<p>"That will do," said Hale impatiently, waving his hand, and drawing a -long breath, "you can go," and Tim took his departure. "Are you -satisfied?" he asked turning to the lawyer.</p> - -<p>"No," said that gentleman quietly, "I must have a better proof that -there was no child. From certain rumours, which I remember hearing -years ago, I am inclined to believe that there is a child."</p> - -<p>"I believe there was a child," said Mrs. Walker, who had been sitting -grim and silent. "Kate wrote to me two years after she eloped with -that man, that she had a baby and that it was very ill. She did not -expect it to live."</p> - -<p>"Did she mention the sex of the child?"</p> - -<p>"No. She did not, nor did I ever hear from her again. I daresay that -man cast her off, or deserted her, and she crawled to Wimbledon to -die. But the child must be dead also, so I inherit the money."</p> - -<p>"No! no! no. There is not sufficient proof of the child's death," said -Jabez, "although it appears we can prove the death of your sister. -Then again, I must have the amethyst cross placed in my hands before I -can part with the money. It is well invested," added Jabez with a -chuckle, "and brings in a trifle over two thousand a year. You are -correct in your estimate, Mr. Hale, but I doubt if you can claim the -money."</p> - -<p>"I could if I had the cross," muttered Hale savagely.</p> - -<p>"Not even then. If the child, whether male or female, appears with the -cross and I can prove that it is the child of Mrs. Walker's sister -then I'll hand over the money. If we can prove the death of the child, -Mrs. Walker will get the money."</p> - -<p>"And I'll have it," cried Mrs. Walker rising indignantly. "I am -certain that the child is dead. Kate wrote that it was dangerously -ill."</p> - -<p>"But not dead," chuckled Jabez, glancing at his watch. "Well, there is -nothing more to be said, so I shall take my leave. Good-day! good-day! -good-day!" he nodded again to each in turn and vanished as -unexpectedly as he had entered. Mrs. Walker looked remarkably angry.</p> - -<p>"The money is mine and I'll have it," she said determinedly.</p> - -<p>"You must first find the amethyst cross," sneered Hale.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">CHAPTER XV</a></h4> -<h5>A STARTLING LETTER</h5> -<br> - -<p>After Mrs. Walker's portentous visit to Rose Cottage with her lawyer, -things went on quietly for some days. Mr. Hale at first positively -refused to speak on the subject of the cross and the fortune attached -thereto, as he maintained that it was useless to talk about -impossibilities. Then he changed his mind and spoke with extraordinary -freedom.</p> - -<p>"Nothing can be done until we find the amethyst cross," he said -gloomily to his daughter, "when that is produced, the money will be -forthcoming."</p> - -<p>"But you forget, father, that the cross has to be produced by Mrs. -Walker's nephew or niece," said Lesbia doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"She hasn't got one," snapped Hale. "If there was a child, it is dead. -I know that no child was brought to my house at Wimbledon by Kate -Morse."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Walker said that was her sister's maiden name. Do you know the -name of the man she married?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." Hale cast a jealous side-glance at his daughter. "It's an old -story and a long one."</p> - -<p>"Which has to do with Mrs. Walker's enmity against you?" persisted -Lesbia.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Hale again. "She thought that I had something to do with -her sister's elopement. Such rubbish, as though I could have helped -it."</p> - -<p>"Why did Miss Morse run away, then?"</p> - -<p>"Because of her father. He was a wealthy, old, psalm-singing idiot, -who made the two girls wretched. Kate fell in love with a certain -friend of mine--I am not going to mention his name--and old Morse told -him that he was not to come near the house. Then Kate took the bit -between her teeth and ran away with the man. She had a miserable life, -I believe, but I saw nothing of her until she stumbled foot-sore and -weary into my house at Wimbledon. The rest you know."</p> - -<p>"And the money?" asked Lesbia anxiously.</p> - -<p>"You heard all that is to be said on that subject when Mrs. Walker was -here," growled Hale, who was more communicative than usual. "But I'll -repeat the story, because I wish to make a suggestion."</p> - -<p>"What is the suggestion?" asked the girl, who mistrusted the uneasy -looks of her father.</p> - -<p>"First the story and then the suggestion," he remarked grimly. "Well, -it can scarcely be called a story. Samuel Morse, the psalm-singing old -ass I told you of, had a hundred thousand pounds, two daughters, and -no son. He made a will leaving the money equally divided between them, -and after death the money if not used up was to go to their heirs. -Judith--Mrs. Walker that is--married a scampish man-about-town, who -soon got through all she had and then broke his neck in a -steeplechase, leaving Judith with next to nothing upon which to bring -up George. Kate, having eloped with the man whose name I don't wish to -mention, did not claim her share of the cash."</p> - -<p>"If Mr. Morse was so angry I wonder he did not alter his will."</p> - -<p>"He would have done so. Of that I am absolutely certain," said Hale -emphatically, "but he had no time to do so. Shortly after he made his -will Kate eloped, and the old man died in a fit of rage, before he -could give instructions to Jabez who was his lawyer. Jabez gave fifty -thousand pounds to Judith, who by and by married Walker and lost it -all through his spendthrift habits. The remaining fifty thousand he -invested, and what with the principal and interest it must be a tidy -sum by now. At all events it brings in over two thousand a year. Since -Kate is dead the money passes to her child if she left any, which I do -not believe. Failing a child, it reverts by the will to Mrs. Walker."</p> - -<p>"But why need she produce the amethyst cross?" asked Lesbia.</p> - -<p>"She need not, as her identity is fully established in Jabez's eyes. -The cross--as I learned from him years ago--was an ornament which old -Morse had made for Kate, a kind of religious symbol."</p> - -<p>"Who bears the cross will win the crown," said Lesbia, remembering the -ornament; "or rather, as the motto goes, lose the crown by refusing -the cross."</p> - -<p>Hale nodded with a smile of contempt. "Yes! That was old Morse's idea. -He gave the cross to Kate, and then she ran away with it and the man -who became her husband. Jabez, knowing that the ornament is peculiar, -swears that he will need the cross to prove the identity of Kate or of -her child, as no one else could possess so odd a trinket. As if it -could not be imitated exactly," ended Hale with contempt.</p> - -<p>"The cross might be imitated," said Lesbia, doubtfully. "But as the -poor woman is dead, it will not be so easy to produce a child as -hers."</p> - -<p>Hale, with his head on one side, looked at her oddly. "I don't know so -much about that," he said slowly.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" questioned Lesbia, seeing that her father had -something on his mind.</p> - -<p>"Well," said Hale, pinching his chin and still looking at her as -though to hypnotise her mind; "there was no child, as I said. But you -were only a baby twenty years ago, born, in fact, only a week before -Kate Morse came to my house. Could we not say that you are the child?"</p> - -<p>"What?" Lesbia looked indignantly at her father.</p> - -<p>"Don't be foolish," said Hale testily. "It is not a crime seeing that -the money is there for the asking, Bridget Burke told you that the -cross was given to you by your mother. Let it be so, and I can swear -and, for your sake, I can get Tim to swear, that you are the long-lost -child. The train has already been laid by Bridget's story--which by -the way I told her to tell you--so old Jabez will be easy to -convince."</p> - -<p>Lesbia drew a long breath. "I should not think of deceiving and -robbing Mrs. Walker."</p> - -<p>"Oh, nonsense," said Hale earnestly. "When she dies the money goes to -her son, so if you marry him you can hand over twenty-five thousand to -him, or say one thousand a year. Thus you will be acting honestly -towards the Walkers, my dear, and----"</p> - -<p>"And dishonestly towards myself," cried Lesbia indignantly. "And what -of the remaining one thousand a year, father?"</p> - -<p>Hale drooped his eyes suavely. "I take that for arranging that you get -the money. Come, Lesbia, what do you say?"</p> - -<p>"I decline," she retorted, quivering with indignation. "How dare you, -who are my father, make such a proposal? Even if I were the true -child, I should not give you one penny."</p> - -<p>"Ha!" said Hale bitterly. "I thought so, and thus suggested a wild -scheme to try you. I might have known."</p> - -<p>"I believe that if I had fallen in with your scheme," cried Lesbia -boldly, "that you would have arranged to carry it through. You have -not the cross, however, and even if I consented----"</p> - -<p>"I remember the look of the cross, and so do you. It could have been -duplicated, my dear."</p> - -<p>Lesbia looked at her father in pained astonishment, and then burst -into bitter tears. "Oh, how I wish that I could respect you," she -wailed.</p> - -<p>Hale lifted his eyebrows. "Don't you?"</p> - -<p>"No! How can I, when I find that you are so wicked?"</p> - -<p>"I was only trying you," he said hastily. "Though it is true that had -you shown a disposition to give me my fair share I might have -endeavoured to get you this fortune. But, as it is, I see well that -all my pains would be thrown away. You would see me--your own -father--starve rather than let me have one penny."</p> - -<p>Lesbia dried her tears. "I would have nothing to do with such a wicked -scheme, and I only wish I could get away from you. You have never been -a father to me, and every day we drift farther and farther apart. When -I see Lord Charvington I shall ask him to help me to get a situation, -as a companion or a nursery governess, and then----"</p> - -<p>"Lesbia, you surely would not disgrace me by talking to Charvington in -that way," said Hale, his face growing dark. "Perhaps I have never -been affectionate, but then I feel more than I say. And you have -always had comfort and all that I could give."</p> - -<p>"I have had everything, save a father's love."</p> - -<p>"My nature is a reticent one," said her father sullenly. "So it is -useless to ask for impossibilities. If you really are unhappy with me, -marry George Walker and have done with it."</p> - -<p>"And what about Captain Sargent?" asked Lesbia sharply.</p> - -<p>Hale shrugged his shoulders. "I can't force you to marry a man against -your will, bad father as you say that I am. I have done my best for -you and you persistently regard me with suspicion."</p> - -<p>"What you proposed to do just now----"</p> - -<p>"Was merely an experiment. Think no more about it, and don't make -yourself ridiculous with Charvington. Play your cards well with him -and his wife, and you may make a good match."</p> - -<p>"I shall marry no one but George," said Lesbia obstinately.</p> - -<p>"He won't have anything to do with you," sneered Hale, and turned -away.</p> - -<p>Things being strained in this way Lesbia was sufficiently unhappy, -especially as George was absent and silent. She could not understand -why, after her explanation, he refused to come back to her. But in the -depths of her mind, she felt certain that he was acting against his -heart's desire, and much in the same way as she had acted when she -dismissed him. It was impossible to see him, as he was in London and -she did not know his address, and it was equally impossible to write -to him. Certainly, as Mrs. Walker was ready to receive her, she could -have gone to Medmenham to converse with that formidable lady, but she -hesitated to pour out her woes in that quarter. In spite of her sudden -friendliness, Mrs. Walker was unsympathetic, and the poor girl longed -for some kind breast whereon she could lie and weep and be comforted.</p> - -<p>Thus it can easily be guessed that Lesbia hailed with joy the arrival -of a brisk little woman, who introduced herself as Lady Charvington. -She came in a gorgeous motor car, with much noise and pomp, and was -dressed like Solomon, in all his glory, so wonderful was her frock. -Mr. Hale was within and received her with much deference, which was -natural considering that Lord Charvington was his patron. Lesbia was -sent for, and duly came down to the tiny drawing-room to be -introduced.</p> - -<p>"So this is Lesbia," said Lady Charvington, putting up a -tortoise-shell lorgnette, "quite a beauty I declare."</p> - -<p>She frowned a trifle when she said this, for her own daughters, in -their 'teens at present, were not beautiful. She herself had no great -pretension to good looks, although she made the best of herself in -every way. She was as small as Lesbia, but did not possess such a -complexion or such a figure, and there was an ill-tempered droop to -her mouth which made the girl mistrust her. For Lord Charvington's -sake, since he had been so kind to her, Lesbia was anxious to love his -wife, and perhaps had she been a plain girl Lady Charvington might -have given her an opportunity of exercising such affection. But the -looks of Lesbia took her aback, as she saw in this delicately -beautiful girl a formidable rival, not only to her plain daughters but -to herself. For Lady Charvington, in spite of her age and of the fact -that she was married, flirted a great deal. However, swiftly as these -things passed through her mind, she did not permit them to be revealed -by her face and welcomed Lesbia with well-affected enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>"You dear," she said, hopping up like a bird to peck the velvet cheek -of her proposed guest; "why have you hidden yourself for so long?"</p> - -<p>"I have been stopping here with my father since I came from school," -said Lesbia, trying to overcome a sudden dislike for this smiling -vision of small talk and chiffon.</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington shook a dainty finger at Mr. Hale, who was looking on -well-pleased at the scene. "You naughty, naughty man," she cried -effusively and girlishly, "how dare you keep Beauty shut up in a -castle no one ever heard of? But that Charvington spoke about this -sweet thing the other day and proposed to have her over at the Court -for a few days, I should never never have seen her."</p> - -<p>"I didn't wish to trouble you with my girl, Lady Charvington."</p> - -<p>"Oh," Lady Charvington uttered a little scream of delight, while -taking in every detail of Lesbia's looks and costume, "there will be -no trouble. We have always plenty of nice boys at the Court and they -will lose their heads over this Sleeping Beauty. For you are that, you -know," she added to Lesbia, "whatever the poor dear creature's name -may have been. But I have come at my husband's express desire to wake -you up, and to find a prince who will kiss you."</p> - -<p>"I have already got one," said Lesbia abruptly. "I am engaged!"</p> - -<p>Hale frowned, as he thought that she was too candid, but Lady -Charvington felt more satisfied than she had been. An engaged girl -would not be so dangerous. "Then we must ask your prince over to the -Court also," she declared effusively and kissed Lesbia again. "I have -brought over the car to take you back to dinner. Get your frocks and -frills, dear, and we shall start while the afternoon is yet warm."</p> - -<p>"Are you ready to go, Lesbia?" asked Hale, smiling artificially, for, -from the look on his daughter's face, he was not quite sure if she -approved of the invitation.</p> - -<p>But he need not have troubled. Lesbia did not like Lady Charvington -but, being anxious to see my lady's husband and tell him of her -troubles--since the sending of the cheque proved him to be a kindly -man,--made up her mind to overcome her mistrust and travel in the -motor car. "Everything is ready," she said quietly. "I have only one -box."</p> - -<p>"Oh, but, my dear, I wish you to stay for a week," protested the lady.</p> - -<p>"So I understood, and thank you very much," replied the girl with -enforced cordiality. "And the one box of clothes will be sufficient."</p> - -<p>"Dear me!" said Lady Charvington with a gasp, "what a careful girl you -must be. Why I take five boxes for a week's visit."</p> - -<p>"I am not rich enough to do that. Besides," added Lesbia smiling, "I -should only cumber up your motor car."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that is all right. It's a big thing and holds heaps. Have you -ever been in one, my dear girl?"</p> - -<p>"Lesbia has lived a very quiet life," interposed Hale quickly, "and -knows nothing of modern luxury."</p> - -<p>"Poor thing," said Lady Charvington, with a pitying glance. "I hope -your prince is wealthy," she added, turning to Lesbia.</p> - -<p>The girl smiled. "On the contrary, he is very poor."</p> - -<p>"Dear me! I seem to have found a paragon of virtue. But are you not -rather foolish, my dear girl? With such a face and such a figure and -with my influence you should make a better match."</p> - -<p>"So I tell her," cried Hale quickly; he was always on the watch to put -in a word, "and she is not really engaged, Lady Charvington. There is -some disagreement between Lesbia and Mr. Walker."</p> - -<p>"What a horrid name! So plebeian!" cried Lady Charvington.</p> - -<p>"George is not plebeian," said Lesbia, colouring hotly, "his father -was the Honourable Aylmer Walker."</p> - -<p>"Lord Casterton's third son," said the visitor, nodding. "Yes, I have -heard of him from my brothers. He was rather wild, was he not?"</p> - -<p>"Really I don't know."</p> - -<p>"There is no chance of his coming in for the title--your George, I -mean," prattled on Lady Charvington, "as Aylmer Walker's two elder -brothers have both heaps and heaps of children. I rather think that -Aylmer was the black ba-ba of the family. Well, there, I'm talking -scandal, a thing of which I highly disapprove. Go and get your things -on, dear, and tell your man to put your box on the motor. Wilkins will -help him. He's the chauffeur--not at all a bad driver, but oh, so -dreadfully reckless. Be prepared to go like the wind, my dear."</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington babbled on in this fashion with bird-like glances -here and there, taking in every detail of the room. She knew that Hale -was a poor relation of her husband's, and indeed had received him -twice or thrice at The Court near Maidenhead. But this was the first -time she had seen his daughter and, but for the express command of -Lord Charvington, she would not have asked her over. There was some -comfort in the fact that the girl's affections were engaged, but all -the same, such beauty, whether free or bound, would prove dangerous. -"I trust she won't interfere with my men," thought Lady Charvington as -she smiled sweetly on Lesbia leaving the tiny drawing-room.</p> - -<p>The girl summoned Tim to take her box to the motorcar which was -panting violently at the door, and went to her room to put on her hat. -She made a desperate attempt while doing so to overcome her dislike to -Lady Charvington, as she felt sure that for some reason the little -woman was hostile. Lesbia was too unsophisticated to put down the -hostility to the fact that Lady Charvington found her exasperatingly -beautiful, and was puzzled to think why any hostility should exist. -But it certainly was there, and Lesbia detected it immediately. -However, as she could see no reason for any such feeling existing -between her and a woman who--on the face of it--was doing her a -kindness, she fought desperately with her intuition. Still it seemed -to her that she was but leaving one abode of trouble to go to another, -wherein even more annoying things might happen. And the root of all -the worry was the missing cross.</p> - -<p>Tim took down the box and then returned to Lesbia's bedroom as she was -issuing therefrom. He drew her back mysteriously and produced a letter -cautiously from his inner pocket. "This is for you, Miss," he declared -in a whisper, "it came under cover to me by the mid-day post, with a -scratch av a pin saying Mr. Canning sint it, and 'twas to be given ye -at onct."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Canning!" Lesbia's face grew eager, and she hastily opened the -thin envelope to skim five or six lines written on foreign notepaper. -What she read surprised her, and she noted that the address given was -in a quiet street in Whitechapel.</p> -<br> - -<p>"I have heard indirectly," wrote The Shadow, "that you are going some -time to The Court, Lord Charvington's place near Maidenhead. If you -do, keep a good watch, as two London thieves--the same who robbed -Tait's strong-room by Tait's direction--are about to try to steal Lady -Charvington's jewels when everyone is at dinner. The attempt will be -made on Thursday evening. I advise you to warn Lord Charvington, but -tell him not to bring in the police, as he will deeply regret doing -so. Yours always, C."</p> - -<br> -<p>This mysterious letter, signed with Canning's initial, startled -Lesbia, For the moment she felt inclined to go down and tell her -father: but on second thoughts and with a discretion far beyond her -years, she decided to say nothing until she met her host. It was now -Tuesday, and the burglary was not arranged for until Thursday. There -was ample time.</p> - -<p>"It's nothing, Tim," she said mendaciously, putting the letter away. -"Good-bye for one whole week, you dear old thing," and she kissed him -fondly.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">CHAPTER XVI</a></h4> -<h5>RECOGNITION</h5> -<br> - -<p>The Court, near Maidenhead, was Lord Charvington's chief country -residence on account of its proximity to London. It was a modern -mansion built in early Victorian days and, in accordance with the -taste of that period, had no great pretensions to architectural -beauty. In fact it might be called ugly, and was a huge, staring -barrack of a place, quite out of keeping with the beauty of the -surrounding grounds. These were of large extent, and so admirably laid -out that they made up for the deficiencies of the building, which, -after all, was comfortable enough within doors, if its external aspect -was uninviting. Modern luxury had made the many rooms very habitable, -and the barn--it looked like a barn--was furnished with the -magnificence of Aladdin's palace.</p> - -<p>Lesbia arrived with her hostess in time for afternoon tea and was -speedily introduced to Lord Charvington. There were at least ten -guests of fashionable London stopping for a few days and, while Lady -Charvington chatted with these, her husband made himself agreeable to -Miss Hale. She was very glad to find Charvington so agreeable and -sympathetic, for naturally her first plunge into society made her -somewhat shy. And her host was particularly attentive, quite in a -different way from Lady Charvington's careless hospitality. After a -few minutes' conversation Lesbia felt as though she had known him for -years, and was soon quite at her ease. In fact, Lady Charvington, at -the other end of the room, cast a displeased look in Lesbia's -direction, when she heard her laughing so gaily, and saw how her -pretty face was wreathed in smiles. Charvington was making a fool of -the girl, she thought, and indeed privately deemed it foolish that he -had lifted the girl into a circle so alien to her ordinary life, since -she had neither the money nor the experience to sustain her new -position. However, Charvington had made a point of his cousin's -daughter being asked, so Lady Charvington gave way, as she always did -to her husband in small things.</p> - -<p>Charvington was a tall and somewhat stout man, with a fresh-coloured -face and leonine masses of white hair worn somewhat long. He was -clean-shaven, with merry blue eyes filled with vigorous life, and -possessed a strong, calm voice, sympathetic and sweet. His manner was -brisk and lively, and more suited to youth than to age. Not that he -was so very old, for he certainly appeared as lively as the youngest -man in the room. Everyone in the West End knew Lord Charvington, as he -was rich and kind-hearted, two things which beget a very agreeable -reputation. Many a young man had to thank Charvington for help and -advice, and in an unostentatious way he did a great deal of good. When -Lesbia talked with him and became acquainted with his personality, she -no longer wondered that he had acceded so readily to her request for a -loan. The purse of such a genial man was always open to the needy, and -very often to the undeserving.</p> - -<p>"I am glad you have come over, Lesbia," he said admiringly, as they -sat in a quiet corner of the room far from the chattering guests. -"Hale did not tell me that you were so pretty. By the way, you must -not mind my calling you by your Christian name. I knew you when you -were but a baby, and it is my privilege, as your elderly cousin, to be -familiar."</p> - -<p>"I am very glad you <i>are</i> familiar," said the girl, lifting her eyes -to the strong, kind face, "and I cannot forget that you sent me that -fifty pounds so kindly, without asking what I wished to do with it."</p> - -<p>"Pooh! pooh! That is nothing, child. Who should help you but I? -Whenever you are in want of money write to me, and you will receive a -cheque by return of post. I am your cousin, you know. And a very bad -cousin at that," added Charvington, with sudden energy. "I should have -had you here long ago. You must have led a dull life in Marlow."</p> - -<p>"No," answered Lesbia quietly, "there was always George."</p> - -<p>"Who is George?"</p> - -<p>"The man I love."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Charvington's eyes twinkled more than ever; "you are engaged."</p> - -<p>"Yes and no."</p> - -<p>The man looked puzzled. "What do you mean? I don't like riddles."</p> - -<p>Lesbia sighed. "It is a riddle, and a very painful one. For that -reason I accepted your kind invitation and came over. I want to tell -you what I did with the fifty pounds, and also I wish to ask your -advice."</p> - -<p>"I shall be delighted to give it, but surely your father--"</p> - -<p>"My father"--Lesbia checked a scornful remark which was on the tip of -her tongue--"my father would take no interest in what I wish to tell -you."</p> - -<p>Charvington bent his brow and looked at her thoughtfully. "You shall -come to the library in the morning, and there we can have a chat," he -said. "Only one thing I ask you now: your father does not treat you -badly?"</p> - -<p>"No," faltered the girl, looking down; she could not betray her -father, although he had behaved so ill. "My father is--well enough," -she ended lamely.</p> - -<p>"Humph!" muttered Charvington, with his eyes still on her face. "Well, -well, we shall see! Meantime have some more tea," and he walked across -the room to have her cup filled.</p> - -<p>No more was said for the time being, but Charvington's kind manner -made Lesbia more determined than ever to confide in him. She believed -that she had at length found a friend who would aid her to withstand -the tyranny of her father, and who would assist to put things right -with her lover. They were crooked enough now in all conscience. -Moreover, in any case, she was forced to show him Canning's letter, so -that he might provide against the projected burglary. If she told this -much she would have to tell all, for only by making a clean breast of -it could she be extricated from the mire into which she had sunk, -through no fault of her own. All that evening she longed for the -morning, so that she might tell her new friend the many difficulties -which were making her miserable.</p> - -<p>Not that the evening was dull. On the contrary, as the mansion was -filled with lively, well-bred people, it was quite a revelation to -Lesbia in the way of enjoyment. Everyone seemed to be happy and -untroubled by care, which contrasted strongly with the incessant worry -which went on within the four walls of Rose Cottage. These society -people--outwardly at all events--seemed as careless gods, happy, -merry, and gloriously irresponsible. Later in life Lesbia learned what -sadness lurked under this frivolous, laughing exterior, but at this -time she was quite deceived, and thought to herself, "How happy are -the rich and well-born!"</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington's two daughters--not yet old enough to be -presented--were very nice girls, although they were decidedly -plain-looking. But they appeared to have none of their mother's -jealousy regarding Lesbia's beauty, and made much of her. She found -herself laughing and talking and entering into their girlish lives, -quite as if she had known them for many years. Lord Charvington seemed -particularly pleased that this should be so, and presided over the -trio like a benevolent wizard. For the most part Lesbia was with the -two girls during her visit, in spite of the attentions paid to her by -sundry youths smitten by her beauty. Seeing this, Lady Charvington -became much more gracious, and inwardly decided that Lesbia Hale knew -her place. All the same she was a trifle uneasy at the way in which -Charvington hovered round the pretty visitor. Not that she cared over -much for her husband, who was older than she was; nevertheless, she -did not like to see him paying marked attentions to anyone else.</p> - -<p>On the first evening, there was a small dance after a very splendid -dinner. Lesbia, in her simple white dress, attracted much notice, but -she preferred to talk to Agatha and Lena, Lord Charvington's -daughters, and to laugh at their father's mild witticisms. During a -lull in the dance there was some singing, and towards the end of the -evening an excellent supper. Lesbia retired at midnight, while yet -the festivities were in full swing. This was at Lord Charvington's -express wish, as he did not approve of youth losing any necessary -beauty-sleep. When she laid her head on the pillow and was falling -asleep, Lesbia confessed that she had enjoyed herself greatly. If -George had only been present the evening would have been perfect.</p> - -<p>Next morning, Agatha and Lena woke her early and took her round -the grounds. The girls exchanged confidences--chiefly about school -life,--ran races on the dewy sward, and entered filled with the joy of -life to eat a surprisingly good breakfast. Lady Charvington was rather -astounded at Lesbia's appetite. So pretty a girl, she decided, should -eat less and talk less. But Lesbia, although a fairy in looks, could -not live on fairy food, and enjoyed to the full the excellent meal -provided by the very capable chef of her host. "Horrid, greedy, pert -girl," thought Lady Charvington, who was all smiles and attention. "I -am sure I shan't like her!"--quite a needless thought, as she already -heartily disliked her visitor for other reasons than because she was -pretty. But these reasons Lesbia did not learn for some months. Then -they did not matter, as life had changed by that time for the better.</p> - -<p>After breakfast, Lord Charvington carried off his pretty little guest -to a noble room lined with books, and placing her in a most -comfortable arm-chair, took his own seat at his desk. "Now, my child, -what is it?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"It is rather difficult to begin," faltered Lesbia, feeling if she had -the fatal letter in her pocket.</p> - -<p>"Not with me, my dear. You know that you can trust me implicitly."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Lesbia, raising her clear eyes to the kind face. "Well -then I shall begin from the time I gave George the amethyst cross."</p> - -<p>"What?" Charvington's ruddy face grew pale, and he pushed back his -chair with considerable violence; "the amethyst cross!"</p> - -<p>"Do you know anything about it?" asked Lesbia, astonished by his -change of colour and evident emotion. "It is lost you know--stolen."</p> - -<p>"Who stole it?" demanded the man mastering himself with an apparent -effort.</p> - -<p>"Listen," said Lesbia, and related everything from the time George -Walker had proposed to the moment of Lady Charvington's arrival at -Rose Cottage. But for the moment she said nothing of the letter from -Canning. That could keep until she heard what Charvington had to say -to the first part of her story. And it may be mentioned that Lesbia -spared her father as much as possible, while explaining her -difficulties.</p> - -<p>After his first violent movement, Lord Charvington listened in dead -silence, and his colour slowly returned. With his eyes averted, he -heard the whole extraordinary tale, without interruption, and only -when it was concluded did he speak. Then he gave but small comfort. "I -cannot understand what it all means," he said slowly. "I shall see -Hale, and doubtless he will be able to explain matters. But have no -fear, child, if you love George Walker, you shall marry him. I know -Mrs. Walker, and I knew her husband. A wild fellow was Aylmer Walker, -but not without his good points."</p> - -<p>"And you won't let my father have me watched again," said Lesbia -anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Certainly not," cried Charvington fiercely. "If I had known that, I -would have--but that's neither here nor there. Your father owes me too -much to disregard my wishes. I shall see that he leaves you your full -liberty and that he consents to your marriage with George. I hope he -is worthy of you, my dear--George I mean," he added wistfully.</p> - -<p>"Oh yes. He's the dearest, sweetest, best----"</p> - -<p>"There! There!" Charvington smiled a trifle drily. "I can see that -your heart is set upon being Mrs. Walker. Very good. I shall see that -George has an opportunity of earning money, so that you can marry -him."</p> - -<p>"And the cross?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind the cross just now," said Charvington hastily. "I shall -have to see your father about that. Later we can talk on the subject. -But this Tait," he drummed anxiously with his fingers on the table; -"I knew Tait many years ago. He always was a scoundrel, although I -did not think he would go so far as to join himself with professional -thieves----"</p> - -<p>"Oh," Lesbia drew the letter of Canning from her pocket, "I forgot. -Read this, Lord Charvington. It's a warning--only don't tell the -police."</p> - -<p>Her host mounted his pince-nez and read the missive in surprise. His -face grew a dark red, and he muttered a word which Lesbia luckily did -not overhear. Then he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket -without remark.</p> - -<p>"You won't tell the police," said Lesbia again and still anxiously.</p> - -<p>"No," said Charvington, rising, "from what Canning found out before, I -believe Tait is in this business also. I don't want for several -reasons to make a scandal connected with the man, although he deserves -to be gaoled for life. Still, I shall take precautions by having the -house watched. Also I must get my wife to put away her jewel-casket in -the safe. She is very careless about her jewels, and leaves the casket -in her bedroom, sometimes in a drawer or wardrobe, but more often open -on the dressing-table. The maid should put it away, of course, but -she's a half-blind old creature who was my wife's nurse, and neglects -things. But to-day is Wednesday and the burglary is arranged for -to-morrow evening when we dine. I shall see that my wife puts away her -jewels to-morrow evening. I shall go to her room and see that they are -safe before I go to dinner."</p> - -<p>"But why not to-day also?" asked Lesbia anxiously.</p> - -<p>"The burglary is not until to-morrow evening, child," said Charvington -kindly. "They are safe until then, as they have been safe for years in -spite of my wife's gross carelessness and trust in her neglectful old -nurse. No, my dear, you have given me a needed warning, so it is no -use bothering your head further. To-morrow, I shall make all safe. -When these two thieves find that the house is guarded, they will not -attempt the robbery."</p> - -<p>"Will you warn Lady Charvington?"</p> - -<p>"What! and have her fall into hysterics? No. I shall merely see that -the jewels are locked up nightly after to-morrow, and have the house -watched for a week or so. My wife need know nothing, my dear."</p> - -<p>"I shall keep my own counsel," said Lesbia, rising to leave the room, -"but I do wish you would have the jewels put away to-night, Lord -Charvington."</p> - -<p>"Well," he smiled kindly, "perhaps, as you are so anxious I shall. -But, as we know the time and date of the projected burglary, there is -no need."</p> - -<p>Lesbia went away, comforted to think that Charvington now knew all her -troubles, and would help her when it was necessary. Doubtless he would -procure George a good situation, and then she could marry her lover. -But the emotion of Charvington, when the amethyst cross was mentioned, -puzzled Lesbia greatly, as there appeared to be no reason for it. -However, she comforted herself with the reflection, that--as he had -promised--he would explain everything when the appointed time arrived, -and went to enjoy her holiday with the two girls. The enjoyment took -the form of a picnic and a run down the river on Lord Charvington's -fine steam launch.</p> - -<p>When the girls were out of the way, Charvington sought his wife and -pointed out to her the folly of leaving a case full of rich jewels on -her dressing-table. "They might be stolen," he remonstrated.</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington was not at all grateful. "You are always making a -fuss over the jewels," she said impatiently. "I have left the case in -my bedroom for years and I have never lost a single thing."</p> - -<p>"That doesn't say you might not lose the lot," snapped Charvington, -who found his wife trying even to his kindly nature.</p> - -<p>"There's time enough to talk when I do lose them."</p> - -<p>"Then it will be too late. I ask you to put them away every night in -the strong-room. Bertha can take the case there, when she has dressed -you for dinner."</p> - -<p>"Very well," said Lady Charvington, who was impatient to return to a -very interesting book she was reading. "I'll tell Bertha, though I'm -sure if the case is in my bedroom she can look after it well enough."</p> - -<p>"Pooh. She's half blind. Why don't you get a better maid?"</p> - -<p>"Bertha's been with me all my life, and I shall keep her until she is -past work. You have no heart, Charvington," she ended virtuously.</p> - -<p>"She's past work now," said her husband, as he stalked from the -boudoir.</p> - -<p>Nothing more was said, but had Charvington been in the house on that -Wednesday evening he would either have asked his wife if the jewels -had been put away, or have attended to the matter himself. But during -the day he suddenly decided to go up to London in order to see a -private detective whom he had employed before on various delicate -matters. It would be just as well, thought Charvington, to have this -man in the house on Thursday evening. Then, if the two thieves alluded -to by Canning did arrive, the man could lay hands on them. Not that -Charvington wished to make a public case of the matter, since, as he -had hinted to Lesbia, he was anxious to avoid scandal in connection -with Tait, whom he shrewdly suspected of having a hand in this new -piece of rascality. For this reason he went up to London to engage the -private detective, and remained in town for the night. Next day he -purposed coming back with his assistant and then the matter could be -settled quietly. Lady Charvington would not lose her jewels, and there -would be no trouble--publicly at all events--in connection with Mr. -Michael Tait.</p> - -<p>All that Wednesday Lesbia enjoyed herself on the river with her host's -daughters, in spite of the launch's breaking down temporarily on the -way back, in consequence of some accident to the engines. Consequently -it was not until seven o'clock at night that the three girls arrived -in Maidenhead, and it was thirty minutes past when they came to The -Court. Lady Charvington, who had been anxious about their non-arrival, -expressed herself as annoyed at their failure to be in to dinner, -which was at seven o'clock. She sent a message saying that Agatha and -Lena were to dine in their school-room with the governess. Lesbia -feeling herself a culprit--although on the face of it not one of the -three was to blame--decided to dine with the girls and to make her -apologies afterwards to Lady Charvington. And a very merry dinner they -had, for the governess was a charming, middle-aged lady, who made -everything very pleasant. And then the love of Agatha and Lena for -their newly-found cousin grew with every hour. On the whole, Lesbia -enjoyed that school-room meal more than the splendid dinner of the -previous night. She was the more pleased that she had remained absent, -as she was told by the governess that Lord Charvington was away in -London.</p> - -<p>After that merry meal, Lesbia went to change her dress in order to go -down to the drawing-room. Agatha and Lena followed to chatter and -help, as they did not like to be separated from their visitor. -Lesbia's room was on the first floor, near that of the girls, and on -the way the three had to pass the door of Lady Charvington's bedroom. -It was closed, but as they passed they heard a shriek of alarm, and -opening it at once saw one man escaping by the window, and another -struggling with Bertha, the ancient maid. Agatha and Lena ran away -screaming for help, but Lesbia dashed forward to help the old woman. -At that moment the man--who wore a mask--threw Bertha on the ground -and ran towards the window. Lesbia caught him before he could fling -his leg over the sill, and tore off the mask. Then she uttered a cry -of dismay and terror.</p> - -<p>"Father!" she shrieked, and dropped down in a dead faint.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">CHAPTER XVII</a></h4> -<h5>DISGRACE</h5> -<br> - -<p>Next morning, Lesbia was sitting in her bedroom, thinking over the -terrible event of the previous night. She had remained in a faint for -a considerable time, and had recovered consciousness to find herself -lying on her bed. At once she had desired to see Lady Charvington, but -her hostess sent up a message asking that Lesbia should wait until the -arrival of Lord Charvington, who had been wired for. From the somewhat -pert behaviour of the maid who brought the message, the unfortunate -girl felt that she was in disgrace, and did not dare to resent it. -Having recognised her father in the man whose mask she had torn off, -she fancied that the whole household knew of the matter. But in this -she was wrong, as she learned, when Agatha, the elder of the girls, -came by stealth to her room about eleven o'clock at night.</p> - -<p>"I don't know what is the matter with mother," said Agatha speaking in -a whisper and keeping a watchful eye on the door, "she told Lena and I -that we were not to see you, or speak to you."</p> - -<p>"Why?" stammered Lesbia, feeling sick with shame.</p> - -<p>"I don't know. I suppose mother is angry at the loss of her jewels. -But my father always told her that she would lose them."</p> - -<p>"Have they caught the thieves?"</p> - -<p>"No. Lena and I screamed, and everyone came rushing, up. They found -Bertha lying half stunned on the floor, and you in a faint. The two -men had a motorcar at the gate and got away."</p> - -<p>Lesbia turned even whiter than she was. "Do they know who the men -are?"</p> - -<p>"Of course they don't. They wore masks, you know," said Agatha, "but -one mask was found on the floor. Bertha said that you pulled it off -the man who was struggling with her. Did you know his face?"</p> - -<p>"No," muttered Lesbia. The lie choked her, but she could not denounce -her own father, evil as he was.</p> - -<p>"I expect when I fainted he jumped from the window after his -companion, and managed to reach the motorcar. Has your father -returned, Agatha dear?"</p> - -<p>"No," answered the girl softly, "he is coming back in the morning. -Mother has brought in the police from Maidenhead, but I heard her tell -the chief man that you were too ill to be questioned until the -morning. Mother seems to be very angry with you, Lesbia. I wonder -why?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know, dear," said the girl, and indeed she did not. If the -names of the thieves were unknown, Lady Charvington could have nothing -against her. "But if your mother doesn't want you to speak to me, -Agatha, you must go back to bed. When the morning comes I shall see -your mother and ask what is the matter."</p> - -<p>"See father," said Agatha, pattering across the room with bare feet, -"he is fond of you: he told me so. Mother is always jealous of anyone -father likes and she will only be disagreeable. I waited till Lena was -asleep, then came here. But I'll go now," she returned to kiss Lesbia, -"good-night, dear, and don't worry. Everything will be right when -father comes back."</p> - -<p>Lesbia thought so also. She had implicit faith in Lord Charvington as -his daughter had, and knew that he would understand when he heard the -truth. But could she tell him the truth? Could she say that the man to -whom he allowed an annuity had crept into the house to steal the -jewels? And then Canning had said particularly that the two thieves -were the same that had robbed Tait's strong-room by Tait's direction. -In that case, her father was doubly a villain, as he was not only a -thief, but had tried to throw the blame of the first burglary on -George Walker in order to bring about a separation between them. Now -he had added a second crime to the first, and had robbed his -benefactor and cousin at the very time that his own daughter was a -guest in the house. Canning must have known of her father's guilt and -so, in his letter--for Lesbia's sake no doubt--had advised that the -police should not be brought in. But would Charvington keep the affair -quiet when his wife had lost her jewels? And in any case would he not -send from the house in anger the daughter of such a villain? It was -all terrible, shameful, disgraceful, and poor Lesbia sobbed herself to -sleep at the horror of it all.</p> - -<p>Next morning she could eat no breakfast, but after a cold bath to -freshen her up, dressed and sat by the window waiting for Lord -Charvington's arrival. At first she was inclined to see her hostess -and ask why she behaved so oddly. But the fancy was strong within her, -that Lady Charvington in some way must have learned the identity of at -least one of the thieves, and so was visiting the shame of the father -on the head of the innocent daughter. But then Lesbia could not -conjecture if this was true. As Lady Charvington had not entered her -bedroom until Hale escaped, she could not have recognised him, and as -Hale had escaped the truth would never become known unless Lesbia -spoke. This she did not intend to do, unless to Lord Charvington, whom -she could trust. She therefore waited patiently. At all events, as she -gathered from Agatha's report, whatever Lady Charvington suspected she -certainly had not informed the household, in spite of the demeanour of -the pert servant. Nevertheless, the very forbidding of the two girls -to see Lesbia pointed to doubts and hatred and knowledge of the worst -on Lady Charvington's part.</p> - -<p>As Lesbia sat there looking out on to the beautiful garden with -tear-filled eyes, she recalled many circumstances in her father's life -which brought home to her forcibly his wicked vocation. The sordid -persons who came by stealth to Rose Cottage must have been thieves and -fences who received stolen goods. Her father's mysterious actions and -frequent absences were accounted for by the fact, for when away he -probably had been robbing with his shameful associates. No wonder he -had laughed when George had proposed to leave Tait's office and join -him in business. And Tait also was a rogue and a scoundrel, belonging -to the gang of which Walter Hale was a member. Sargent might be a -thief also--but of this Lesbia could not be certain. Nevertheless, she -began to suspect that Canning <i>alias</i> The Shadow had something to do -with the robberies. That would explain why a gentleman would descend -to being a spy. Canning was under Hale's thumb and would have to do -what he was told to do. Then she recollected how he had stated that -for telling her about Tait's scheme he would have to go into hiding. -There could be no doubt about it. Canning belonged to the gang and out -of gratitude had betrayed his sordid associates.</p> - -<p>Thinking thus Lesbia grew sick and faint. The thought of the -wickedness that surrounded her made her shiver. How could she expect -George to marry her when she was the daughter of a thief? And she -would be forced to tell him, since she could not marry him and keep -silent upon such an important point. To marry George without telling -him the truth would be to place herself in the power of her father. -And now knowing what her father was, Lesbia felt certain that to put -money into his pocket he would not stop short of blackmail. No, she -would have to tell what she had discovered to George and to Lord -Charvington, and thus in one moment she would lose the only two -friends she possessed. Tim remained and Lesbia knew that, come what -might, she could always depend upon the fidelity of the Irishman; she -felt sure that Tim was as innocent as herself of this dreadful -knowledge which had come to ruin her life. In all wide England there -was no more miserable girl than the unfortunate Lesbia, as she sat -weeping by the window and bidding farewell to happiness and -respectability.</p> - -<p>Towards noon a message was brought that Lord Charvington wished to see -her in the library, and Lesbia after washing away all traces of the -bitter tears she had shed descended the stairs. She was pale and worn, -but held herself proudly, for whatever might be known, she was -determined to face the worst. Several people were in the hall, and she -saw a policeman near the door. But no one looked at her in any way -suggesting that the terrible truth was known, so Lesbia entered the -noble library with a hope that her father had escaped recognition by -all save herself.</p> - -<p>Only two people were in the library, Lord Charvington and his wife. -The former was walking to and fro with a worried expression on his -kind face, but the latter seated in an arm-chair near the window -looked red with anger and apparently had been engaged in a furious -argument: "If you don't tell, I shall," she was saying when Lesbia -entered.</p> - -<p>"You shall say nothing," said Lord Charvington sternly. "Hold your -tongue as you have done. Hitherto you have displayed sense in keeping -silence and in silencing Bertha. Continue to behave and----"</p> - -<p>"Here's the girl," snapped Lady Charvington, interrupting as Lesbia -came silently into the room and closed the door.</p> - -<p>"Why do you speak of me in that way?" asked Lesbia, up in arms at -once. Knowing herself innocent, she did not intend to stand insult.</p> - -<p>"You will soon learn," retorted the other, curling her lip. "I wonder -you are not ashamed of yourself. And after all my kindness too, and -my----"</p> - -<p>"Silence, Helen," said Lord Charvington imperiously. "How dare you -talk to Miss Hale so insolently?"</p> - -<p>"Miss Hale," sneered his wife. "Why not call her Lesbia, as you have -done?"</p> - -<p>"I have every right to; she is my cousin." Lord Charvington made an -angry gesture to impose silence on his indignant wife, and turned to -the girl who stood pale and motionless. "My poor Lesbia, don't look so -woe-begone. I will stand by you whatever my wife may say."</p> - -<p>"What does she say?" asked Lesbia quietly.</p> - -<p>"You had better hear her when she is more composed," said Lord -Charvington with a glance at his wife, thereby arousing her to fresh -fury. "She will probably say something in the heat of the moment for -which she will be sorry. Helen, had you not better go and lie down?"</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington arose with a red spot burning on either cheek, and -her eyes glittered like those of an angry cat. "How dare you speak to -me like this in my own house, Charvington?" she cried in a shrill -voice. "I don't leave this room until you turn that shameless girl out -of doors."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" demanded Lesbia indignantly; but with a sinking -heart.</p> - -<p>"Mean," screamed the infuriated woman; "I mean that Bertha heard you -calling the masked man who attacked you, 'Father!' And you cannot deny -it. See, Charvington," she pointed tauntingly to the agonised girl, -"she dare not deny it. Oh you--you daughter of a thief; you accomplice -of a thief."</p> - -<p>"Helen, Helen; be silent."</p> - -<p>"I shall not be silent. When Bertha told me the truth I ordered her to -hold her tongue until you returned, Charvington. I have held my peace -myself and neither the police nor the servants nor our friends know -that this horrid girl is the daughter of a thief. Why you take such an -interest in the minx I don't know, but surely after what we have -discovered you will pack her off to gaol."</p> - -<p>"To gaol; to gaol," Lesbia drew herself up, pale, but fearless. As -Lady Charvington hurled her accusations, the girl's spirit rose to -defend herself. After all, guilty as her father might be, she at least -was innocent. "How dare you speak to me in this way?" she said again.</p> - -<p>"And how dare you face me, you cat?" snarled Lady Charvington, looking -much more like a cat herself. "You arrange with your abominable father -to rob me of my jewels, you enter my house to----"</p> - -<p>Before Lord Charvington could put out his hand to stop her--for he was -afraid to think what these two angry women might do--Lesbia glided -past him, and stood face to face with her enemy. "You lie," she -breathed in such a low, fierce voice that the other woman fell back -into her chair with a gasp of fear. "I knew nothing of this. I had no -wish to rob you of your jewels."</p> - -<p>"Yes, you had, and I know why!"</p> - -<p>"Explain then. I dare you to explain."</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington cast a swift glance at her husband. "I know what I -know."</p> - -<p>"You know that I am innocent," said Lesbia, clenching her hands; "I -dare you to say that I am not."</p> - -<p>"You are your father's accomplice."</p> - -<p>"That is untrue," broke in Lord Charvington smoothly, "Lesbia warned -me that the jewels would be stolen."</p> - -<p>"Of course," scoffed his wife triumphantly, "she knew!"</p> - -<p>"If I had been in league with my father would I have given the -warning?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Lady Charvington, rising to confront Lesbia, who had asked -the question. "My husband showed me the letter purporting to come from -some man in London. It said that the burglary was arranged for -Thursday, and by telling my husband that, he thought he might safely -leave the house and go to London to engage a detective, while your -father robbed the house on Wednesday. It's a well-arranged business."</p> - -<p>"I don't know why the burglary took place on Wednesday," said Lesbia -steadily; "the letter I gave Lord Charvington is perfectly true. I -can't explain further than I have done."</p> - -<p>"Because you can't; because you can't," taunted Lady Charvington, "but -you shall leave my house in disgrace."</p> - -<p>Lord Charvington caught his wife's wrist. "Lesbia shall return to her -home this day," he said imperiously, "because I won't have her -stopping here to be insulted by you. Bertha will say nothing of what -she overheard, as I have forbidden her to speak on the pain of instant -dismissal. You also, Helen, shall hold your tongue."</p> - -<p>"I will do nothing of the sort," breathed Lady Charvington -vindictively.</p> - -<p>"You shall. I will not permit you to ruin an innocent girl. Knowing -that Hale has stolen your jewels, I can get them back, and have -already communicated with him."</p> - -<p>"The police----"</p> - -<p>"The police can do nothing. Hale and his accomplice got away cleverly -in their motorcar and cannot be traced. If the jewels are returned -intact--which they will be, as I can force Hale to return them--the -police will not move further in the matter, as I can stop them. Then -this painful episode will be a thing of the past."</p> - -<p>"I want that girl disgraced as an accomplice," said the elder woman, -grinding her teeth and pointing towards Lesbia.</p> - -<p>Charvington put his arm round Lesbia's waist or she would have fallen. -"I shall not allow it, Helen," he said quietly. "Lesbia is innocent. -Woman, have you no pity for the poor thing; surely she is suffering -enough already, in finding out that her father is a thief."</p> - -<p>"Her father," jeered Lady Charvington insultingly. "Oh, yes, her -father," she moved swiftly towards the library door. "If you get back -my jewels I shall hold my tongue, for reasons which you may guess, -Charvington. But don't let that creature come near me, or I shall--I -shall--oh." Lady Charvington could scarcely contain herself. "How I -hate you; hate you. I wish you were dead with all my heart and soul, -you--you----"</p> - -<p>What she was about to say in her furious anger Lesbia could not guess. -But whatever it was she never uttered the epithet. Charvington -suddenly moved towards his wife and towering above her glared into her -eyes. "If you say another word I'll kill you."</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington quailed. "You are quite capable of doing so," she -breathed undauntedly; "I'm not afraid of you. But clear my house of -that," and with a jeering laugh, she pointed at the trembling girl and -left the room.</p> - -<p>"What--what does she mean?" gasped Lesbia, sinking into a chair, her -courage all gone. "What have I done? How can I help my father--my -father--oh Lord Charvington!" and she broke down weeping bitterly.</p> - -<p>"Hush! hush!" He stood over her, patting her heaving shoulder. "She -doesn't know what she is saying. I'll see that she holds her tongue -and Bertha also. Nothing will ever be known of your father's -complicity in this crime."</p> - -<p>"But what does it mean?" asked Lesbia, lifting a tear-stained face.</p> - -<p>"God knows," muttered Charvington moodily, "I have been mistaken in -your father, my dear."</p> - -<p>"But--but you don't blame me?"</p> - -<p>"No," he declared emphatically, "a thousand times no. My dear, I love -you as if you were my own child, and I shall never, never believe any -harm of you in any way. I can keep my wife's tongue silent, but I can -do no more. You must return to Marlow, until such time as I can -arrange further about your marriage with George Walker."</p> - -<p>"Oh," Lesbia wailed and stretched her arms, "I cannot marry him now. -Who would marry the daughter of a thief? Father was one of the thieves -who robbed Mr. Tait's strong-room."</p> - -<p>"At Tait's request remember," interpolated Charvington quickly.</p> - -<p>Lesbia brushed away the speech. "Oh, what does it matter even if they -are all thieves. But George must have known the dreadful truth and so -he will not renew our engagement. I did not understand him before; I -do now."</p> - -<p>"There! there!" Charvington patted her shoulder again, "don't worry. -All will come right, I am sure, and in a way which you do not expect."</p> - -<p>Lesbia looked up with sudden hope. "You know of something."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the man gloomily. "I know of something. Don't ask me any -further questions just now, but go back to Marlow. The motorcar is -already at the door with your box on it. As all our other guests have -left the house, your departure will cause no surprise."</p> - -<p>"But the police. Will they not want to question me?"</p> - -<p>"I'll attend to that. I told the inspector that if necessary he could -question you at Rose Cottage. But as I hope to make your father give -back the jewels, the prosecution will be dropped. Remember, the police -do not know that your father is guilty. Being thus ignorant, they can -do nothing. Go away in peace, my dear, and leave everything to me."</p> - -<p>Lesbia rose shuddering. "How can I go back to my father, knowing what -I now know?" she murmured, shivering.</p> - -<p>"You go back to the cottage," explained Charvington distinctly. "It is -my cottage, as I pay the rent; the furniture also is mine. I have -supported your father for years and this is the way he repays me. -However, the cottage is yours. I promise you that your father will not -come near you."</p> - -<p>"I trust not! I trust not. I could not face him. And you?"</p> - -<p>"I shall come over and see you shortly. But go away, contented to know -that all is well. There will be no scandal, and not a word will be -said about this burglary. Your father is safe and you are safe. Later, -I shall see about getting your father to go to Australia, and then you -can marry Walker."</p> - -<p>"If he will have me," sighed the unfortunate girl.</p> - -<p>"Lesbia," Charvington took her face between his two hands and looked -into her eyes; "I swear that you shall marry him. There! Let the dead -past alone and dream of future happiness," and he kissed her solemnly.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h4> -<h5>LADY CHARVINGTON'S ACCUSATIONS</h5> -<br> - -<p>While Lesbia was thus having so miserable a time, George Walker was -living very quietly, sometimes in London, but more often in Medmenham. -He carefully avoided all mention of Lesbia's name, and when his mother -questioned him regarding his reason for refusing to renew the -engagement he declined to explain. Mrs. Walker was much annoyed by -what she termed his mule-headedness as, after her visit to Rose -Cottage, she was quite willing that Lesbia should become her -daughter-in-law.</p> - -<p>"I cannot understand you, George," said Mrs. Walker to her son during -one of their frequent wrangles. "When I objected to this girl, nothing -would do but that you must marry her. Now that I have taken a fancy to -her, you refuse to have anything to do with her. I never thought a son -of mine would blow hot and cold in this silly fashion."</p> - -<p>"I am not blowing hot or cold," returned George gloomily; he was very, -very gloomy in those days and had lost all his light-heartedness. -"Lesbia is the only girl in the world that I care to marry. But how -can I make her my wife, when I haven't a penny to keep her with?"</p> - -<p>"That is mere evasion. Things are very little changed from the time -you would have married her in the teeth of poverty."</p> - -<p>"There is this much change, that I have lost my situation with Tait -and am now living on my mother, which is the meanest thing a man can -do. How then can I renew my engagement with Lesbia?"</p> - -<p>"Because I wish you to," said Mrs. Walker promptly, and bent her black -brows.</p> - -<p>"I understood you hated her."</p> - -<p>"Indeed, I never did," she rejoined sharply. "How could I hate anyone -whom I had never seen? Don't be a fool, George. I certainly hated her -father and I hate him still, for a very good reason, which it does not -concern you to know. But after I saw the girl I repented that I had -not been to see her before, since you loved her. She is an innocent -darling, and I should like no one better for my daughter. It would be -unfair to visit the sins of the father on so sweet a child."</p> - -<p>"Yet if the child wasn't sweet," said George drily, "you would not -mind doing so. You are somewhat inconsistent."</p> - -<p>"I am not so inconsistent as you are," said his mother, skilfully -avoiding a reply by carrying the war into hic camp. "What I wish to -know is--why do you decline to renew your engagement?"</p> - -<p>"I have no money and no situation."</p> - -<p>"That isn't the true reason.</p> - -<p>"It is the sole reason which I choose to give."</p> - -<p>"There is no necessity to be rude, George," said Mrs. Walker with -great dignity. "Cannot you get another situation?"</p> - -<p>"Not easily. Tait will give me no references, nor do I care to ask him -for any. Situations are hard to get without references."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker clasped her strong, white hands together and frowned. "It -is quite absurd that my son and the son of your father should be a -mere clerk in the City," she burst out. "Can't you do something -better?"</p> - -<p>"No," replied George gloomily. "I am not clever, and I have not been -brought up to any trade."</p> - -<p>"Trade! Trade! My son in trade."</p> - -<p>George was sad enough at heart, yet could not forbear smiling at the -horror expressed on her countenance. "There is nothing disgraceful in -trade," he remarked quietly. "My grandfather Morse was a merchant."</p> - -<p>"And your grandfather Casterton was an earl," snapped Mrs. Walker. -"There's your uncle, the present owner of the title. Why not go to -him, and see if he cannot assist you?"</p> - -<p>"And when I ask him, what excuse can I make?"</p> - -<p>"He is your uncle: he has every right to assist you."</p> - -<p>"I fear he might not see things in the same light, mother. Besides I -have no qualifications." George paused, then added gloomily: "An -out-of-door colonial life would suit me. Give me enough to get to -Canada or Australia, mother, and there I can carve my way."</p> - -<p>"What about me?" asked Mrs. Walker reproachfully.</p> - -<p>"I would make a home for you beyond the seas and you can come out -later."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker shook her head. "I am too old to travel so far," she said -grimly, "moreover, I intend to wait until I get the fortune of my -sister. She is dead: I am sure from what Walter Hale says that there -is no child, so in the end Jabez must give me the fifty thousand -pounds. That money would put all things right: your marriage -included."</p> - -<p>"Not with Lesbia," said the young man colouring. "There is no chance -of our coming together. Besides, to get the money you must find that -cross."</p> - -<p>"Nothing of the sort," said his mother quickly, "Jabez only requires -its production by a possible child, as a means of identification, a -very silly idea I call it. But he knows that I am Judith Morse, and so -by my father's will inherit, now that my sister is dead."</p> - -<p>George shook his head doggedly. "I believe that you will never get the -fortune until that cross is found."</p> - -<p>"Then find it."</p> - -<p>"I can't. I have tried my best to learn who assaulted me and robbed -this cottage, but I am still in the dark."</p> - -<p>This ended the conversation for the time being. But as the days went -by Mrs. Walker still continued to express her disgust at George's -obstinacy regarding Lesbia. She knew that he still loved the girl, and -could not think why he should refuse to renew the engagement in the -face of Lesbia's letter. Of course the excuse of having no situation -was rubbish, so Mrs. Walker decided, as Lesbia was willing to marry -him without one penny. If he truly loved her, as she did him, poverty -would be no bar. When was poverty ever a bar to the union of two young -hearts? Even admitting that George wanted to provide a home before -renewing the engagement, he surely could have seen Lesbia and -explained his reasons for behaving as he was doing. But he never went -near Marlow, and refused to mention her name. As Mrs. Walker, being as -obstinate as her son, insisted on discussing his unfortunate love -affair, and wrangling over the same, George took to remaining for days -in London on the plea that he was looking for work. Time thus passed -very miserably for the grim widow.</p> - -<p>One day George came down with the news that he had received a note -from Lord Charvington, asking him to call at The Court, Maidenhead. -Why he should wish to see him George could not guess, as he had never -met him. But in the letter Charvington said that he had been a friend -of Aylmer Walker, and so desired the interview. Mrs. Walker was also -puzzled. She was well acquainted with Lord Charvington, but after her -scampish husband's death she had kept away from the former society she -frequented, on account of her poverty.</p> - -<p>All the same, she advised George to keep the appointment, which was -made for the next day, if only to hear what Charvington had to talk -about.</p> - -<p>It was strange, a coincidence in fact, that Lady Charvington's motor -should stop on the afternoon of that very day at the gate of the -Medmenham cottage. Never before to George's knowledge had his mother -mentioned Lord Charvington's name, yet on the very day when it was on -her lips, because of the letter, the wife of the nobleman arrived to -pay a visit. Why she should do so was not quite clear, and Mrs. Walker -entered the drawing-room with a frown. She and her sister Kate had -been school-girls together, and she had never approved of the lady. -Her greeting was very cold.</p> - -<p>"How are you, Helen?" she said, extending the tips of her fingers. "It -is a surprise to see you in my humble abode."</p> - -<p>"I would have called before, only I knew that you did not wish to see -me, Judith," said Lady Charvington, sinking gracefully into the -nearest arm-chair; "but I have come on business."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker sat also, and folded her hands on the lap of her black -dress with her usual grim smile. "Of course, I knew that you would not -waste your valuable time in coming for nothing. But what business you -can have with me I fail to see. We were never good friends, and you -positively hated Kate because she was prettier than you."</p> - -<p>"She never was," said Lady Charvington hotly, and glanced in the -silver-framed hand-mirror, which stood on the table at her elbow. -"Kate had not my complexion, nor my hair."</p> - -<p>"Nor your nasty temper," snapped Mrs. Walker, who felt extremely nasty -herself; "but I don't know why we should talk of good looks at our -age."</p> - -<p>"I am not old, Judith: you are older than I am."</p> - -<p>"Quite so, and I wear ever so much better. You look twice your age."</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington made a face. "You were always a disagreeable girl," -she pouted, "I daresay I am growing no younger, but you need not tell -me so. As to my looks, if you were as worried as I am, you would not -look your best either. So I--who is that?" she inquired as George, -ignorant that his mother had a visitor, tapped at the French window of -the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>"My son George," said Mrs. Walker, rising to admit him.</p> - -<p>"Oh!" cried Lady Charvington vivaciously. "Lesbia's George."</p> - -<p>"My son, Lady Charvington," said Mrs. Walker, introducing the pair. -"George, this is an old friend of mine."</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington looked at the splendidly handsome young man -and secretly envied her hostess. Neither of her children was so -good-looking, and moreover, what she always regretted, she had -provided no heir to the title.</p> - -<p>"So you are Lesbia's George," she said again, not offering her hand, -but putting up her lorgnette. "Well, the girl has taste."</p> - -<p>George coloured under her impertinent gaze and at the sudden mention -of Lesbia. He no more expected Lady Charvington to mention the girl -than he had expected she would arrive on the very day when her name -had first been mentioned in the cottage--that is, her husband's name. -"What do you know of Lesbia, Lady Charvington?" he asked, taking a -chair.</p> - -<p>She gave an artificial laugh. "Nothing very creditable."</p> - -<p>The young man started and grew an angry red. Mrs. Walker frowned, and -making a sign that her son should be silent, spoke for him. "What do -you mean by running down the girl, Helen? Let me tell you that -Lesbia's name must be mentioned in this house only with respect."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I know that she loves your son, and that he loves -her--unfortunately."</p> - -<p>"Why so?" asked George very directly, and still red with anger. He was -beginning to dislike this pretty, perfumed, dainty woman, who looked -as frivolous as his mother was stately.</p> - -<p>"Because she is, I shrewdly suspect, a--a----" Lady Charvington -hesitated, for the young man looked so angry, and Mrs. Walker so grim, -that she feared to bring out the hateful word. "Well, the fact is," -she rattled on, "I have lost an amethyst cross, and I believe this -Lesbia Hale has taken it."</p> - -<p>"An amethyst cross," repeated George, astonished, too much so in fact -to repel the accusation against Lesbia with the promptitude he wished. -"A cross consisting of four amethyst stones with a green cube of -malachite in the centre bearing a crown, and inscribed 'Refuse and -Lose'?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." Lady Charvington was astonished. "Do you know it?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I do. It belongs to me."</p> - -<p>"To you. Impossible. It is, as I believe the property of Lord -Charvington, and was stolen with other jewels from The Court a few -days ago."</p> - -<p>"But how did it get to The Court--how did it come into your -possession?"</p> - -<p>"It came into my possession a few weeks ago. I entered the library -during my husband's absence and found this cross on his table. -Wondering why he had such a jewel, and thinking that he had bought it -for me, I took it to my room. Charvington went away before I could -speak to him about it and never made any inquiries--strange to say--as -to its being taken away, I placed it in my jewel case, and forgot all -about it. Then my case was stolen by two London thieves a few days -ago, and the cross also."</p> - -<p>"You declared that Lesbia stole it," said Mrs. Walker grimly, "and now -you say that two thieves----"</p> - -<p>"Lesbia was in league with them."</p> - -<p>George sprang to his feet. "That's wholly false, Lady Charvington. -That is----" he became aware of his rudeness and stammered, "you--you -must be mistaken."</p> - -<p>"I am never mistaken," said the visitor in icy tones. "Your son has -not very good manners, Judith."</p> - -<p>"They are my manners," said Mrs. Walker fiercely, "and don't you find -fault with them. He has only said what I intended to say, only more -politely."</p> - -<p>Before Lady Charvington could snap out a reply, George, now very pale, -intervened. "Perhaps, madam, you will explain upon what grounds you -base this charge against Miss Hale."</p> - -<p>"Oh, certainly," rejoined Lady Charvington sharply, "the whole world -might know what I have to say, and the whole world would," she added -spitefully, "only my husband, who seems to have taken a fancy to this -girl, has hushed up the matter."</p> - -<p>"He has more sense than you have," muttered Mrs. Walker, "badly as he -treated----" she checked herself with a side glance at George, "but -that is neither here nor there. Go on, Helen, and explain."</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington, in order to make George writhe--for she saw that he -loved Lesbia deeply, and resented the fact--was only too ready to give -details of the robbery at The Court with all the venom of which her -very bitter tongue was capable. She related everything that had -happened from the hour of Lesbia's arrival, to the moment of her -departure. "And in disgrace," ended the lady exultingly, "certainly -private disgrace, since for some silly reason Charvington made me hold -my tongue, but disgrace nevertheless. Now what do you think?"</p> - -<p>"Think"--George, standing with a white face and clenched hands, took -the words out of his mother's mouth--"I think that you are a very -wicked woman, Lady Charvington. Lesbia is as innocent as a dove."</p> - -<p>"I know nothing of the morals of doves," retorted Lady Charvington -coolly, "but you seem to forget that I stated how this girl's father -was one of the thieves. Who the other one was I can't say, but Lesbia -certainly recognised her father. Bertha, my maid, heard her -exclamation, while she was lying half stunned on the floor."</p> - -<p>"I am not astonished," said Mrs. Walker bitterly. "Walter Hale is -capable of all things, although I did not know that he would descend -quite so low. I never liked him as you did, Helen."</p> - -<p>"Leave the past alone," said Lady Charvington with an angry gesture; -"but you can see that this Lesbia creature was her father's -accomplice."</p> - -<p>"Speak more respectfully of Lesbia if you please," said George in a -cold white fury. "She is perfectly innocent, and knew no more of her -father's wickedness than----"</p> - -<p>"Than you did, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"You are wrong. I knew some weeks ago, that Walter Hale had to do with -a gang of thieves."</p> - -<p>"George," cried his mother aghast; "you never told me."</p> - -<p>"There was no need to," he said quickly, "I know that Hale, acting by -Tait's orders, stole the jewels from----"</p> - -<p>"Was this why you broke your engagement with Lesbia, or rather why you -would not renew it?"</p> - -<p>"That was the reason," said George awkwardly.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker stood up sternly. "Then you believe that Lesbia is an -accomplice."</p> - -<p>"No, I don't. My reason is different."</p> - -<p>"You refuse to marry the daughter of a thief perhaps," said Lady -Charvington mockingly.</p> - -<p>"I do not. My reason--never mind. I can explain my reason to Lesbia -when I see her," said George, standing very straight and looking very -determined.</p> - -<p>"You intend to see her, then?" asked his mother.</p> - -<p>"This very evening."</p> - -<p>"I shall come also," said Mrs. Walker quickly.</p> - -<p>"If that is so," drawled Lady Charvington, "perhaps you will ask her -what she has done with the cross."</p> - -<p>"She has not got it," cried George. "How can she have it when you -declared that her father stole it and----"</p> - -<p>"Oh," Lady Charvington laughed cruelly, "I daresay her father gave her -the amethyst cross, as her share of the plunder."</p> - -<p>"Helen, hold your bitter tongue," cried Mrs. Walker wrathfully.</p> - -<p>"If you speak of Lesbia in that way, or dare to smirch her fair fame," -said George very deliberately, "I shall make it my business to make -things unpleasant all round."</p> - -<p>"As how?" asked Lady Charvington, putting up her lorgnette.</p> - -<p>"To-morrow I am to see Lord Charvington by appointment----"</p> - -<p>"I was not aware that you knew my husband."</p> - -<p>"I do not, but he wrote to me, and I am to see him."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" drawled Lady Charvington coolly, "perhaps knowing that you love -this wretched girl my husband intends to arrange that you shall marry -her and take her out of the country."</p> - -<p>The young man restrained his anger by a violent effort. "Perhaps you -are correct, madam," he said in a thick voice and breathing hard. "But -I shall also ask Lord Charvington how the cross came to be in his -possession."</p> - -<p>"No!" Lady Charvington shrieked and seemed much perturbed. "You must -not do that."</p> - -<p>"Madam," said George in a stately manner and following up his -advantage, "I am the owner of that cross, which was given to me by -Miss Hale. I was assaulted on the towing-path so that I might be -robbed of it. As the thief did not find it on my person he burgled -this cottage and took it from my room. I have every right to ask Lord -Charvington how he became possessed of it."</p> - -<p>The visitor rose with rather a pale face but quite composed, and shook -perfume from her costly draperies as she gathered up her belongings to -depart. "Things are bad for Lesbia Hale as it is," she said -composedly. "I advise you to ask no questions of my husband, or he may -withdraw his protection from her. If he does, she is disgraced, -publicly."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe it," said Mrs. Walker, crossing to the window and -opening it. "You can leave my cottage by this way, Helen, and the -sooner the better."</p> - -<p>Lady Charvington swept towards the French window with a careless -laugh, obviously forced. "I am only too willing to go," she declared. -"I only came over to ask you to question Lesbia Hale as to what she -has done with my amethyst cross."</p> - -<p>"Mine, pardon me," said George firmly, as he held the window open, -"and you may be sure that I shall marry Lesbia and protect Lesbia even -against you who seem to hate her, Heaven only knows why."</p> - -<p>"Your mother knows," sneered Lady Charvington. "Well, do what you -like, only remember that I have warned you!" and with these ominous -words she took her welcome departure.</p> - -<p>"What is next to be done?" asked Mrs. Walker, when the motor hummed -away.</p> - -<p>"We must see Lesbia," said George firmly. "What has been said brings -us together at last."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">CHAPTER XIX</a></h4> -<h5>MR. HALE EXPLAINS</h5> -<br> - -<p>When Lesbia returned to Rose Cottage, after her unlucky visit to The -Court, she found that her father had never been near the place. Tim, -who was alone in the house when she arrived, explained that Hale had -gone to London within an hour of Lesbia's departure with Lady -Charvington in the motor car. There was nothing in this to surprise -the little Irishman, as Hale's comings and goings were always more or -less abrupt. But he was amazed and startled when he heard what Lesbia -had to tell; the revelation being occasioned by Tim's distressed -remark on the girl's pallor.</p> - -<p>"Ah now, Miss, an' what hey ye bin doin' wid yer purty silf at all, at -all? Sure the face av ye's as white as a carpse."</p> - -<p>Lesbia burst into tears. "Oh Tim, I sometimes wish that I was one, for -I feel so very miserable. George will have nothing to do with me; Lady -Charvington hates me, and my father, my father----"</p> - -<p>"Phwat av him?" asked Tim anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Can't you guess?" asked Lesbia, drying her eyes, and wondering how -much or how little the man knew of Hale's rascalities.</p> - -<p>Tim's face remained passive, but he could not keep a certain amount of -anxiety out of his eyes. "Sure, the masther isn't a good man," he said -in a hesitating manner, "he trates ye like a brute baste, Miss."</p> - -<p>"It's worse than that," sobbed Lesbia, breaking down again.</p> - -<p>The servant changed colour and raised his hands in mute despair. When -he did find his voice, it was to ask a leading question. "An' how much -do ye know, me dear?"</p> - -<p>"I know that my father is a thief."</p> - -<p>"Augh! the shame av it," muttered Tim, but did not contradict.</p> - -<p>Lesbia noticed that he was less surprised than he should have been. -"You knew that."</p> - -<p>"Mary be good to us all!" said Tim sadly. "But I know a mighty lot I'd -rather not know, me dear. But are ye sure, Miss?"</p> - -<p>Lesbia sat up, dried her eyes, and detailed all that had happened. Tim -listened in dismayed silence with his sad eyes on her pale face, and -she heard him grind his teeth when it came to an account of Lady -Charvington's accusation. When she ended he still kept silence.</p> - -<p>"What do you think of it all, Tim?" asked his mistress, anxious to -hear what he had to say.</p> - -<p>"It's black lies that woman spakes," cried Tim vehemently. "Ye nivir -knew av the masther's wrongdoin'."</p> - -<p>"Did you, Tim?"</p> - -<p>"I knew a trifle, an' guessed a mighty lot. Nivir ask me, miss, phwat -I know till his lardship--an' sure he's a good man--spakes the wurrd. -But I know wan thing, me dear heart, that the blackest clouds have the -blissid sun behint thim."</p> - -<p>"There is no sun behind these clouds," said Lesbia, sighing.</p> - -<p>"An' there yer wrong, Miss," said Tim briskly. "Sure, whin them clouds -do let the blissid sun sind out th' light av him, ye'll foind pace an' -happiness an' joy galore. Lave things to his lardship. The crass began -the throuble, an' the crass will end that same."</p> - -<p>"Tim! Tim, what do you know about the cross?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, nivir ask me phwat I know," croaked Tim again. "There's whales -within whales, me dear, an' me mouth's bin saled fur many a year. But -whin his lardship spakes I spake, and thin ye'll be as happy as thim -who dwell in Tirnanoge."</p> - -<p>"What's that, Tim?"</p> - -<p>"The land av youth where ye and Masther Garge shud be, an' will be, -whin the blissid saints in glory let ye come into ye'r own." And after -delivering himself of this agreeable prophecy, Tim shuffled away to -prepare dinner.</p> - -<p>Lesbia was much astonished at the hints thus given, and also much -perplexed. Tim seemed to know of the significance of the amethyst -cross, of the rascality of her father, and also he appeared to know -about Lord Charvington as a possible <i>deus ex machina</i>, who would make -the crooked quite straight. Later in the evening she questioned the -little man persistently, but Tim, as wily as an otter, evaded a direct -reply, only insisting that everything would come right in a most -unexpected way. With this Lesbia would scarcely have been content, but -that her attention was taken away from the future to deal with the -present.</p> - -<p>Urged by Tim, and now feeling more hopeful as she recalled -Charvington's promise to stand by her, Lesbia made a moderately good -dinner. While Tim was washing up in the kitchen, she sat near the -window of the tiny parlour reading the first book that came to hand. -But the pages did not interest her and, moreover, it soon grew too -dark to read without lights. Lesbia did not call for these, as she -liked the pensive twilight, and so dreamed of George and future -happiness in the gloaming. There was just light enough to see across -the room, so she started with surprise and indignation when she saw -her father suddenly appear in the doorway. He looked much the same as -usual, but then the light was not strong enough to permit her to see -the shame which must certainly have appeared on his face.</p> - -<p>"Why have you come here?" asked Lesbia, rising indignantly.</p> - -<p>"I have assuredly a right to enter my own house," retorted her father.</p> - -<p>"It is not your house," she replied boldly. "Lord Charvington told me -that it belonged to him, and declared that you would come here no -more."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" Hale lounged into the room, and dropped with a sigh of fatigue -into a chair. "Charvington proposed more than he could perform; he -always did."</p> - -<p>"How did you come in?"</p> - -<p>"By the back door, which was open. I rowed up from Cookham."</p> - -<p>"You can't stop here," said Lesbia firmly.</p> - -<p>"You can't prevent me," said her father, with a sneer.</p> - -<p>"I can leave the house, and I will."</p> - -<p>"Where will you go?"</p> - -<p>"To Mrs. Walker; she will protect me. I will throw myself on her -mercy. But I refuse to remain under the same roof as you."</p> - -<p>Hale winced at the scorn in her tones. "You seem to forget that you -are speaking to your father," he said in an icy manner.</p> - -<p>"God help me!" cried the girl, with a gesture of despair; "I wish I -could forget. You have brought shame upon me."</p> - -<p>"Oh, rubbish," said Hale crossly. "I received a letter from -Charvington in London just before I came down to Cookham which stated -that if I restored the jewels everything would be hushed up."</p> - -<p>"And you will do so?"</p> - -<p>"I have to," said Hale grudgingly. "It's an infernal nuisance after -all my trouble, but Charvington says that he will set the police on my -track if I don't act square. I shall return the jewels to-morrow, and -then everything will be put right. There is no disgrace to you."</p> - -<p>"Isn't there?" said Lesbia, with a bitter laugh. "You appear to have -forgotten that Bertha, the maid, heard my recognition of you, and told -her mistress. Lady Charvington accused me of being your accomplice, -and but that our cousin made her hold her tongue and silenced the -maid, I should have been arrested as knowing your rogueries and -sharing in them."</p> - -<p>Hale muttered an oath between his teeth. "Upon my word that's too -bad," he said half apologetically. "The woman had no right to speak of -you in that way, as you are as innocent as a babe. However, if -Charvington has hushed that up also, there is no harm done."</p> - -<p>"Father," cried Lesbia, moving forward to confront him, "can you think -that I will consent to live with you, now that I know of your -wickedness?"</p> - -<p>"What do you know, other than that I took Lady Charvington's jewels?" -asked her father, defiantly.</p> - -<p>"I know that you stole Mr. Tait's jewels by his direction."</p> - -<p>"Who dares to say that?" demanded Hale, starting fiercely to his feet.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Canning----"</p> - -<p>"Mister," sneered Hale, savagely, "since when has he earned such -respect."</p> - -<p>"Mr. Canning is a gentleman and Captain Sargent's brother," said -Lesbia in calm, easy tones. Now that she had come to close grips with -her father she felt singularly cool.</p> - -<p>Hale muttered a second oath. "I knew that The Shadow had betrayed us," -he said ominously; "well, he shall pay for his treachery. His silly -gratitude to you for nursing him has made him dishonourable to us."</p> - -<p>"Dishonourable!" cried Lesbia, scornfully.</p> - -<p>"Why not?" scoffed her father, "There is honour amongst thieves."</p> - -<p>"And <i>you</i> are a thief."</p> - -<p>"I am," said Hale, shamelessly. "I was driven to such courses because -I wanted money. You may as well know the worst, for I----"</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Lesbia threw up her hand, feeling sick at heart. "Don't tell me -any more. Leave this house and never see me again."</p> - -<p>Hale settled himself firmly in his chair. "I will do nothing of the -sort," he declared; "this is my house, whatever Charvington may say. -Here I am and here I rest. There's a French soldier's saying for you," -he sneered.</p> - -<p>"Oh," Lesbia sighed as she looked up, "will nothing make this man -ashamed?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing!" Hale put his legs up on another chair, "absolutely -nothing."</p> - -<p>At this moment there came a sharp ring of the front door bell. Hale -started to his feet with an ejaculation, and Lesbia could guess that -his shameless face had turned white in the shadowy twilight. -Apparently he expected the police, as she gathered from his broken -mutterings. "But it is impossible," he breathed, clenching his hands; -"Charvington said that he would say nothing if the jewels were sent -back. I shall send them to-morrow, and if there is a--ah!"</p> - -<p>The two listening in the half-dark room heard Tim shuffle along the -narrow passage and open the door. A moment later and Mrs. Walker's -voice, cold and haughty, struck on their ears. Hale wiped his face and -heaved a sigh of relief. "Don't betray me to that woman," he -whispered.</p> - -<p>"I shall not," said Lesbia, quietly, "after all, bad as you are, I -cannot forget that you are my father."</p> - -<p>Even as the last word dropped from her mouth, the door opened and Mrs. -Walker was ushered into the room. Behind her came Tim bearing high a -lamp to light her way. The radiance revealed Lesbia white and -shrinking and the defiant face of Walter Hale.</p> - -<p>"The masther, howly saints!" muttered Tim, setting down the lamp; then -he addressed Lesbia, quietly: "Will I bring more lights, Miss, av ye -plase?"</p> - -<p>"No thank you, Tim, this lamp will be enough. Shut the door."</p> - -<p>Without a single glance at his master, Tim departed and left the trio -together. Mrs. Walker, standing just within the room, had said -nothing. Only when the door was closed did she speak. "I did not -expect to find you here, Mr. Hale," she said with contempt and -scarcely concealed surprise.</p> - -<p>"And where should I be, save in my own house?" he asked, lightly.</p> - -<p>"In gaol," she snapped, "and there you would be, had I my way."</p> - -<p>Hale raised his eyebrows. "I do not understand," he remarked, coolly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you do, and you will understand completely when I tell you that -Lady Charvington came to see me to-day." Hale uttered an exclamation -of rage and vexation. "Yes, you may well swear, for she told both -George and myself about the robbery at The Court. What do you say to -that, you detected scoundrel?" she asked, sternly.</p> - -<p>"Hush!" he muttered, gruffly, "my daughter is present."</p> - -<p>"I am glad she is, I want her to know what you are."</p> - -<p>"I do know," faltered Lesbia, weakly, "and oh!"--she covered her face -to sink in a passion of tears on the sofa--"it is shameful: shameful."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker looked at Hale, still defiant and hard-faced. "I would -have spared you this for the girl's sake," she breathed, "but she -caught you red-handed, so there is nothing to conceal." With a stern -look at him, she glided to the sofa and took the shrinking, fragile -form of the unhappy girl in her strong arms: "Lesbia, my love," she -said tenderly, and the change in her voice was extraordinary, "I have -come to stand by you. That man is not fit to have charge of you. Come -with me, to-night, to Medmenham."</p> - -<p>"Oh no--no--George----"</p> - -<p>"George knows all that you know, that I know. He was present when Lady -Charvington came to tell us of what had taken place."</p> - -<p>"And George despises me," wept Lesbia, burying her face in Mrs. -Walker's bosom.</p> - -<p>"Don't be ridiculous, child, don't be foolish. How can he despise you -when you are innocent and he loves you?"</p> - -<p>"Loves me--loves me," Lesbia looked up startled; "but he refused to -renew our engagement although I abased myself to the dust to regain -him."</p> - -<p>"I think George will be able to explain why he acted in that way," she -whispered. "In a few minutes you will meet George under the chestnut -tree where he proposed to you. It's an idea of his that he should -explain himself there and there renew the engagement. We both arranged -to come here to-night and were to drive over. But at the last moment -George took to his boat and is now rowing down the river to meet you -under the trysting-tree. I drove over."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Lesbia sat up, smiles breaking through her tears. This was a -gleam of sunshine indeed. "George is coming back."</p> - -<p>"He will hold you in his arms very shortly," said Mrs. Walker, her -hard face becoming strangely tender. "You poor dear child, how cruelly -you have been treated. But the worst is over: you shall marry my -George and be happy."</p> - -<p>"Indeed," said Hale in an acrid, thin voice. "I am not to be consulted -then?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker placed Lesbia tenderly back on the sofa and arranged the -cushion. Then she turned, hard and harsh once more to the delinquent. -"You are not to be consulted about Lesbia," she said calmly, "as you -are unfit to have anything to do with her. But I have come to consult -you about the amethyst cross."</p> - -<p>"I know nothing about it," said Hale, starting and biting his nether -lip.</p> - -<p>"That's a lie," said Mrs. Walker fiercely. "Lady Charvington found the -cross in her husband's library, where he had left it, and thinking -that he had bought it for her, placed it in her jewel-case. As you -stole the case you must have the cross. Give it to me at once. I want -it."</p> - -<p>"I know nothing about it," said Hale doggedly and raising his heavy -eyes, "you are wrong--the cross was not with the jewels. I shall send -them back to Lord Charvington to-morrow, as only by my restoring them -will he agree not to prosecute. Charvington will show you the case, -and you will see that there is no cross amongst them."</p> - -<p>"I quite believe that," said Mrs. Walker, scornfully, "because you -intend to keep it back. What use it is to you I can't say, as in no -way can you obtain my sister's money."</p> - -<p>Hale scowled and, stretching out his legs, slipped his hands into his -pockets. He was perfectly dressed as usual in a cool tweed suit, and -looked in the half light a very handsome and presentable man. No one -would have taken him for a sordid thief. "I have not the cross," was -all he could say, "it was not with the jewels. I don't know where it -is."</p> - -<p>"Lord Charvington----"</p> - -<p>"If he had it in his library he must have robbed your cottage to get -it, and also must have assaulted your son. I wonder you can stand -that," said Hale with a sneer, "especially since you have a score -against the man as it is. But then you are so forgiving."</p> - -<p>"You will not find me so," said Mrs. Walker caustically. "As to -Charvington, I believe he was more sinned against than sinning. I -shall speak of that when we meet. As it is, my feelings towards him -have relented so far as to permit my son to see him to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"What!" asked Lesbia, who had sat quietly during this passage of arms, -"is George going over to The Court?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Lord Charvington sent him a message asking him to call. What he -wishes to see him about I cannot guess."</p> - -<p>"I know: I know," cried the girl joyfully. "I told him about George -and how George had lost his situation through a false accusation. Lord -Charvington said that he would see George and get him something to do, -so that we might marry."</p> - -<p>"Oh that's it, is it?" said Mrs. Walker, smiling and smoothing the -girl's hair.</p> - -<p>"Will you let your son accept favours from Charvington?" asked Hale -sneeringly, "from the man who----"</p> - -<p>"That is quite enough," said Mrs. Walker, imperiously. "I will have an -explanation with Lord Charvington. I believe from the bottom of my -heart that you were the cause of all the trouble between us. But it -strikes me," Mrs. Walker gathered her mantle round her and sat with -folded arms like a grim and pitiless Fate, "that you are nearing the -end, Mr. Walter Hale. Destiny has been kind to you so far: she will be -kind no longer. I see," Mrs. Walker stared at Hale's twitching face; -"I see imprisonment: I see death: I see----"</p> - -<p>"Oh damn your Witch of Endor rubbish," shouted Hale, jumping to his -feet with the perspiration beading his brow, for he was impressed by -the absolute conviction with which she spoke. "You talk nonsense, -infernal nonsense. And see here, you shall not interfere between my -daughter and----"</p> - -<p>"I will do as I please and so shall Lesbia," said Mrs. Walker, -interrupting the vehement speech. "You forget that you are only at -large because of Lord Charvington's refusal to prosecute. If you -meddle with this marriage as you have done, he will lay you by the -heels. Yes, you and your gang."</p> - -<p>"My gang?" Hale swallowed something and laughed uneasily, "my gang?"</p> - -<p>"You and Tait and Maud Ellis and Sargent and that miserable -opium-smoking brother of his. You are all rogues and thieves and----"</p> - -<p>"You can prove nothing of all this," interrupted Hale, now quite -livid.</p> - -<p>"George can," said Mrs. Walker nodding significantly. "He has seen the -man Canning, whom you call The Shadow, although his real name is -Arthur Sargent."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Lesbia rose quickly, "Has Mr. Canning seen George?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and he has told much which your precious father would like to be -hidden," said Mrs. Walker quietly.</p> - -<p>Hale laughed and wiped his brow. "All the same," he said, wetting his -dry lips, "I am Lesbia's father after all. If you disgrace me, you -disgrace her, so I am quite safe."</p> - -<p>"That is right, hide behind a woman's petticoats," said Mrs. Walker -bitterly, "it was always your custom. Now you come with me," she rose. -"I have something to say to you and it must be said out of doors. -Lesbia, go into the garden and see George."</p> - -<p>"I'll come," said Hale promptly enough, "I am not afraid of arrest; I -know too much. After you, madam," and he held the door open mockingly.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">CHAPTER XX</a></h4> -<h5>JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS MEETING</h5> -<br> - -<p>Ordinarily speaking Lesbia would have anxiously awaited the conclusion -of Mrs. Walker's out-of-door interview with her father. But when she -saw them stroll away in the moonlight, she suddenly remembered that -George was waiting in the garden to explain. Probably the interview -asked by Mrs. Walker had merely been an excuse to get Hale out of the -way so that he might not interrupt the lovers' meeting, as he -assuredly would do if left to his own marplot devices. Lesbia, -therefore, saw that it was foolish to waste the golden hour, when it -had been so propitiously brought about. Closing the front door, she -ran rapidly along the passage into the garden and sped lightly down -the grass-grown path. In another minute she was under the tree and in -George's arms.</p> - -<p>The night was lovely with moonlight and radiant with stars. In the -neglected garden roses red and white and yellow breathed fragrance -into the still, warm air of summer. There was not a breath of -wind and the ripples on the broad river were only formed by the -smoothly-flowing current. It murmured softly between the green banks -and was an accompaniment to the occasional song of the nightingales, -which spoke one to the other in the garden and across the river. At -the dawn of love, the blackbird had fluted his song of joy, when the -sky was blue and the sunshine was glorious. Now the sleeping world was -bathed mysteriously in silver under a starry dome, and the nightingale -sang a diviner song. Through much sorrow had they come to a better -understanding of love, and the liquid notes of the immortal bird alone -could interpret the nobler feelings which trouble had begotten. In -George's arms lay Lesbia, safe at last in the haven of love, and the -night sent upon them a benediction in the song of the bird.</p> - -<p>"But you have been very, very cruel," said Lesbia softly. Woman-like -she was the first to find her tongue.</p> - -<p>"I might say the same of you, dear," whispered George, sitting down -and gathering her closer in his arms, "but neither of us was cruel. -Circumstances are to blame."</p> - -<p>Lesbia, knowing that there was no period to the golden hour now that -her father was out of the way, settled herself comfortably for a long -talk. She had much to tell and much to ask, and before the rapture of -love's silence could be renewed there was much to explain. "I know -that I behaved very badly," she whispered penitently, "but I could not -help it. Unless I had broken our engagement, my father told me that -Maud Ellis would denounce you as a thief."</p> - -<p>"I understand, dearest; but you did not believe that I was guilty?"</p> - -<p>"No," Lesbia pressed her cheek against his, "of course I didn't: but -if I had not been cruel I should not have been kind. I could not risk -Maud's accusing you publicly. But perhaps," added the girl, hopefully, -"she would not have done so, and I was weak to be so cajoled by her -and by my father."</p> - -<p>"I think you acted wisely," said George, after a pause. "Maud led me -into a trap and certainly would not have let me out again until I -agreed to marry her, or at least until you gave me up. You did so and -she was content for the time being. She could part us, my sweet, but -she could not make me false to you."</p> - -<p>"I knew it, in spite of your cruel letter."</p> - -<p>"It was as cruel as yours, Lesbia, so we can cry quits on that score. -I know that you learned the truth through Canning. He explained to me, -and spoke very gratefully of your kindness to him in his illness."</p> - -<p>"How did you meet him, George?"</p> - -<p>"He met me. That is, he wrote to me at Medmenham asking me to see him -in the City as he had something important to tell me. We met in a -Mecca."</p> - -<p>"A Mecca?"</p> - -<p>"One of those underground coffee-rooms in London City, dear. There -Canning, or rather Sargent as he really is, explained."</p> - -<p>"He told you who he was?"</p> - -<p>"Yes! And he told me also that Tait was connected with a gang of -thieves, two members of which had robbed Tait's strong-room with his -connivance. Tait thus got the insurance money in addition to the -jewels which he sold on the Continent. He made about forty thousand -pounds over the deal and, after paying his accomplices, had enough -left to avert a financial crisis, which was the reason for the -robbery."</p> - -<p>"Did you know then that my father was a thief?" asked Lesbia, -shuddering.</p> - -<p>"Of course not."</p> - -<p>"I thought you did know, and for that reason had thrown me over."</p> - -<p>"Lesbia," George said vehemently, and pressed her so strongly to his -breast that she almost cried out with the delicious pain; "how can you -think so meanly of me? Were you the daughter of a murderer I should -marry you. It is you whom I love, my dearest, and not all the fathers -and crimes in the world will ever separate us."</p> - -<p>"Yet something parted us for a time."</p> - -<p>"Your letter."</p> - -<p>"That at first," acknowledged Lesbia, sighing at the memory of what -she had been forced to write, "then yours. Oh, George, when I made it -plain that Maud--the horrid girl--could do nothing, why didn't you -come back to me?"</p> - -<p>"Because Maud was too clever. Finding out that she could not accuse -me, since Canning could prove my innocence, Maud played a bold game -and told me that your father had robbed Tait's strong-room. She swore -that if I did not write to you, as you had written to me, she would -denounce Mr. Hale and have him put in prison. Lesbia," George suddenly -slipped from the seat and knelt at the girl's feet holding her hands -tightly, "what could I do in the circumstances but write as Maud -dictated? I did not dare to let her bring this shame on you."</p> - -<p>"But you could have explained your reason?"</p> - -<p>"No, dear, no. Maud was too smart for that. She insisted that I should -give no explanation, hoping that out of pique you would throw me over -and marry Sargent as your father desired. He was in the plot also. I -had to let things stand, as I was helpless; but I trusted that your -heart would guess the truth. I was always true to you; I have always -been. But you no doubt thought me false from that letter, as I thought -you heartless from the way in which you wrote. Now I can see, you can -see, that neither one of us is to blame. We were the sport of -circumstances."</p> - -<p>Lesbia bent and kissed his yellow hair. "I understand now," she said -softly, "but, oh George, how could Maud Ellis or my father think that -I would marry Captain Sargent, a mere apology for a man, and hardly -that even?"</p> - -<p>"They hoped to work on your feelings; to wear you out, my dear. But -had you become engaged to that dandy scoundrel I should have stopped -any possible marriage by denouncing Sargent as a member of Tait's -gang."</p> - -<p>"Is he, George?" asked Lesbia quickly, and she remembered what Mrs. -Walker had said in the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>"Yes! Canning--his brother, you know--did not tell me everything, but -he revealed a great deal. Sargent is in society and poses as a man of -good family living on his fortune. He is well-born, but he has no -money save what he obtains by theft."</p> - -<p>Lesbia shuddered, "How horrible; how sordid. And my father?" her voice -sank.</p> - -<p>"He is in the swim also, so are Maud Ellis and Tait. Indeed, I believe -that Tait is the head of the whole infernal business. But that I knew -your father was in with the lot and that I wished to spare you, I -would have gone to the police at once."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" Lesbia's tears dropped on her lover's hand, "how dreadful it all -is."</p> - -<p>George knelt before her and drew her head down on his shoulder. -"There, there, dear!" he said, gently drying her eyes, "don't worry; -we'll be married soon, and then you will be taken away from this -terrible life."</p> - -<p>"Tim also," murmured Lesbia tearfully, "I can't leave Tim behind."</p> - -<p>"Of course he'll come too," said George cheerily, "I don't believe -that he knew anything of the rascality that was going on."</p> - -<p>"I think he did," said Lesbia doubtfully, "not that he is wicked -himself. But he knew and, I believe, held his dear tongue for my -sake."</p> - -<p>"Tim would do anything for you, darling, in the same way as Canning -would."</p> - -<p>"Poor Mr. Canning--I mean Mr. Sargent."</p> - -<p>"No, don't call him by his real name; he wishes to be known simply as -Canning--The Shadow. He belongs to the gang and so does that Mrs. -Petty who was set to watch you."</p> - -<p>"A dreadful woman," said Lesbia, nestling, "how I disliked her. But I -am sorry that Mr. Canning is wicked, George. He has been so kind."</p> - -<p>"Kindness begets kindness," said Walker sententiously, "and I don't -think Canning is so very wicked. He has been unlucky all his life and -drifted from bad to worse until he took to smoking opium. That -finished him, and he was on the streets when his brother--who always -kept his head, in spite of his silly looks--took him up, and made him -his servant. Canning does a lot of the dirty work of the gang, and did -not denounce them as he would only be thrown again on the world. Also -the gang would certainly do him harm if the fact of his betraying them -became known."</p> - -<p>"And it is known, George. I am sure of it; because Mr. Canning told me -to mention his name to Maud Ellis. If she is a member of the gang, she -must have told the rest about the betrayal."</p> - -<p>"I daresay that is why Canning went into hiding," said George -thoughtfully; "however, all we can do is to leave him to deal with the -matter. For your sake I can say nothing since your father----"</p> - -<p>"George," Lesbia sat up and placed her hands on his shoulders, as he -knelt at her feet, "your mother told me that you were going to see -Lord Charvington to-morrow."</p> - -<p>Walker nodded. "It is true, though I don't know what he wishes to see -me about. I don't know him; I never met him."</p> - -<p>"I have met him, and I know him," said Lesbia eagerly, "and he is the -kindest and best man in the world. He wants to help us, George, and to -get you something to do so that we may marry. Now you must ask him to -advance you money to go to Australia or Canada, and we can marry -before we go. Then we can start a new life."</p> - -<p>"I suggested something of that sort to my mother, but she was averse -from leaving England. Still, she may change her mind."</p> - -<p>"She must, and she can come also," said Lesbia vehemently. "Oh, -George, don't you see that I cannot remain in England? Even if my -father escapes this time, as he will, because Lord Charvington is so -kind, he is sure to be found out some day. Then think of the disgrace. -I should always be unhappy thinking of what might happen. No, George, -if you love me, let us marry and place the ocean between this -miserable old life and the happy new one which we are sure to have -together. Say yes, dear George, say yes."</p> - -<p>"I do, I do. I think your idea is excellent, and you must persuade my -mother to act in this way. To-morrow I shall suggest our plan to Lord -Charvington. I daresay he will give us enough to go away with and then -I shall soon earn enough to pay him back. Yes, dear," George rose, -looking tall and stalwart in the moonlight, "we shall begin a new life -together and leave all this wickedness behind us."</p> - -<p>Lesbia rose also and clung to her tall lover like an ivy to an oak. "I -believe that everything will come right at last," she declared -joyfully, "as Tim says it will. Only he added that the cross began it -and the cross must end it, whatever that may mean."</p> - -<p>George shook his head. "I can't explain the cross," he said -doubtfully, "it is all very mysterious. Lord Charvington had it in his -possession according to his wife. And yet I cannot think that -Charvington would commit a burglary. He," George smiled broadly, -"cannot possibly belong to the gang. However, it was stolen with the -jewels, so your father----"</p> - -<p>"He has not got it, George. He told your mother that he had not got -it."</p> - -<p>"Then either your father or Lady Charvington is telling a lie. -However, I shall learn the truth when I see him to-morrow. And now, -dear, you must go in, as it grows late."</p> - -<p>"No," said Lesbia, petulantly. "I have to wait here until your mother -comes to us. She went out to talk with my father. George," she added, -after a pause, "I wonder what your mother knows about my father."</p> - -<p>"Nothing very good, you may be certain," said Walker grimly. "She must -know him as a very clever rogue. By the way, Lesbia, do you know how -your father and Sargent escaped discovery when they robbed Tait's -strong-room."</p> - -<p>"Was Captain Sargent the other--thief?" said Lesbia, shivering at the -horrible sound of the word.</p> - -<p>"Yes. He and your father arranged with Tait. Maud knew of the -arrangement and used it to inveigle me into a trap. Her chloroform -business was all a fake, if you will forgive the slang. Tait gave the -key and the two simply opened the strong-room and cleared with the -jewels. When I pursued them they dodged into the wood round the house, -and then entered the house again by a door which they had left open. -Then, after putting away the jewels in Tait's own private room, they -came down and joined the other guests in the search. Very clever of -them, wasn't it, dear?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, don't, don't!" cried Lesbia, catching his hand and looking white -and wan. "It's so terrible to think that my own father should do this. -Why have I such a father?" she asked, raising her eyes in despair to -the moon. "What have I done to have such a father?"</p> - -<p>"Hush, hush, dear," George pressed her to him. "Think no more of him. -He is not worthy of you."</p> - -<p>"He was never affectionate to me," sobbed Lesbia, whose nerves were -quite unstrung, as might have been expected after what she had -undergone. "We never understood each other. I was never drawn to him. -Why, oh, why?"</p> - -<p>George caught the hands she was wringing, firmly in his warm, kind -clasp.</p> - -<p>"My dearest, listen to me," he said softly. "You have been unhappy in -the past, but you shall be happy in the future. Let your father fade -out of your life, and come with me to the land of love. It is said -that a woman shall forsake her parents and cling to her husband. So," -said George, drawing himself up, "you are mine for ever, and when we -are married it will be my delight to make you perfectly happy."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes, but the shadow of the past will ever remain. After all, he -is my father. I can't do away with that," and she continued to sob.</p> - -<p>The young man could only press her to his distressed heart and smooth -her hair. After all, what could he say in the face of facts? Wicked -and cold and hard and cruel as the man was, Hale undoubtedly was the -girl's father, and nothing could do away with the painful fact. But -for that relationship, George would have throttled Hale, or would have -thrown him into the river; but as it was, he could do nothing. He -could not even comfort his dear love who lay sobbing in his arms. The -nightingale still sang on, the stars still twinkled like jewels and -the moon still poured floods of white light down on the sleeping -earth. But the magical glory of the scene was darkened to the lovers -because of the evil of those around them. Yet--and Lesbia learned the -lesson afterwards--out of sorrow comes joy and the way of love is the -way of the cross. Something like this came into the young man's mind.</p> - -<p>"Remember the motto of the amethyst cross," he whispered. "'Refuse and -lose'; we cannot understand why we are so afflicted, but we must bear -the cross if we are to win the crown. And after all, dear, you should -be sorry as I am for your father. He is reaping much grief and pain -for his sowing."</p> - -<p>Lesbia sighed and placed her arms round George's neck. "Yes," she said -in a weary manner, "the cross is heavy, but we must bear it. I am sure -that in the end all will come right. Tim said so and so did Lord -Charvington."</p> - -<p>Down the pathway came Mrs. Walker, looking tall and stately and stern -in her dark robes. Her face was set and white, and--strange in so hard -a woman--she looked as though she had been weeping. "Lesbia," she said -softly, "come back to the cottage and go to bed."</p> - -<p>"But my father is there," sobbed the girl, "and you promised to take -me to Medmenham."</p> - -<p>"Your father has left the cottage for a time at least," said Mrs. -Walker, gently disengaging the girl from her son's arms. "You will be -alone with Tim and he will look after you, until we see how things -turn out."</p> - -<p>"How did you induce Mr. Hale to go, mother?" asked George, looking -troubled.</p> - -<p>"That is not for you to know at present," she said sternly. "I had an -interview with him--a private interview," she added with emphasis, -"and he saw that it was best to leave for a time. Rest in peace, my -child," she said, kissing Lesbia's brow. "You are safe now, and can -come to no harm. Be brave as you have been, for a little time longer, -and all will end well."</p> - -<p>"George," said Lesbia, stretching her arms like a a weary child.</p> - -<p>"Dearest!" the young man kissed her and gave her into his mother's -charge. So the two women passed into the cottage, while he watched -them sadly.</p> - -<p>Sorrow had not yet done her work.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">CHAPTER XXI</a></h4> -<h5>TWO INTERVIEWS</h5> -<br> - -<p>At the present moment, George Walker had plenty of time on his hands, -and being naturally industrious, he did not enjoy the enforced -idleness. Hitherto he had spent the bulk of his leisure hours in -looking for a situation and in thinking of Lesbia. Now he made up his -mind to act in order to bring about some sort of settlement of his -very disorderly affairs. Lesbia could no longer remain with her -father, as his character was so extremely bad. Hale had left the -cottage, but would be certain to return again, therefore George wished -to see if he could not marry Lesbia--say within a month--so as to -rescue her from the troubles by which she was environed.</p> - -<p>To do this he required assistance and believed that he would -receive it from Lord Charvington, who appeared to be particularly -well-disposed towards the girl. The idea of emigrating to the -Colonies--if Mrs. Walker could be persuaded to lend her approval to -the suggestion--was by no means a bad one, as then the whole unhappy -past could be set aside for ever. In another country with better -prospects, and unaffected by the sordid life compulsorily spent with -sordid people, George foresaw that he would be able to make a calm, -bright and happy future for himself and his wife. He therefore crossed -the river and walked to Maidenhead with the idea of explaining his -scheme to Charvington, and asking him to advance the necessary funds.</p> - -<p>But before starting a new life George wished to round off the old. He -saw very plainly that for some reason the amethyst cross had been the -cause of the late troubles. Since its loss everything had gone wrong: -and it was necessary that it should be found if things were to be put -right. Jabez, the lawyer, insisted that it should be produced before -he would part with the fifty thousand pounds trust money. If, then, -the ornament could be found and given into Jabez's hands, Mrs. Walker -would benefit. Certainly, there was a chance that her late sister had -left a child, but in the absence of proof this difficulty might be -overcome. At all events, the production of the cross appeared to be -necessary to force Jabez into dealing with the trust money and its -accumulations.</p> - -<p>Then again, George wished to do something for Canning. The man was a -wastrel and a ne'er-do-weel and had no one to take an interest in him: -but he had done Lesbia a service at considerable risk, and it was only -fair that he should be rewarded. Undoubtedly he belonged to the gang -of clever thieves, but he had repented sufficiently of his wickedness -to help the lovers, whom the gang--or at least three members of -it--had desired to destroy. This service should be recompensed, -especially as Canning could not remain in England without being -exposed to the vengeance of his former associates. George determined -to lay the case before Lord Charvington, and ask him to help. Failing -any aid being forthcoming in this quarter, George intended to take -Canning to Australia or Canada with him, and there start the man on a -new career. Canning was not an old man and there was ample time for -him to redeem the shortcomings of his youth. He was not inherently -wicked as were his brother and Hale, but merely weak.</p> - -<p>On arriving at The Court, George was at once shown into the library -wherein Lord Charvington was waiting for him. The old man arose -courteously and came forward with outstretched hand. He appeared to be -pleased that George had kept his appointment so punctually, and -expressed himself with great cordiality. "I am very glad to see you, -Mr. Walker," he said, when the two were again seated. "I knew your -father."</p> - -<p>"My mother also, I believe, sir," said George.</p> - -<p>Charvington's face changed. "I have not seen Mrs. Walker for many a -long day," he remarked in a low voice, "perhaps we may meet again, -but----" he paused to ask an abrupt and extraordinary question. "Does -your mother ever speak ill of me?" he demanded, his eyes eagerly -searching the young man's face.</p> - -<p>"No," answered George, much astonished. "She has scarcely mentioned -your name. Why should she speak ill of you?"</p> - -<p>"I thought that Hale might have--but that is neither here nor there. -It is enough for you to know, Mr. Walker, that I knew your mother and -her sister over thirty years ago. We all three knew Hale also, and he -caused trouble. He would cause trouble still if he could, but I think -this last escapade of his will keep him quiet."</p> - -<p>"Did you know my aunt Miss Katherine Morse?" asked George, astonished.</p> - -<p>"Yes," Charvington rested his head on his hand and drew figures on the -blotting-paper, "but why do you speak of her by her maiden name? She -was married, you know."</p> - -<p>"I don't know her married name. My mother never mentions it. Perhaps," -George hesitated, "perhaps she doesn't know it."</p> - -<p>"Yes, she does," answered Charvington, still drawing, "so does Hale. -Your aunt died in his house at Wimbledon remember. I understood from -Jabez that Hale had admitted as much."</p> - -<p>"I believe he did. You know Mr. Jabez?"</p> - -<p>"Yes." Charvington heaved heavy sigh. "But I have not seen him for -years. We correspond occasionally--that is all," he paused, then -dropping the pencil with which he was drawing, wheeled his chair and -looked at his guest briskly. "But we have no time to talk of these old -stories. Let us come to the point. Have you heard about Lesbia's stay -here?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said George very distinctly, "Lady Charvington told both my -mother and myself about the matter."</p> - -<p>Lord Charvington's face grew a dull brick red. "When did you see my -wife?"</p> - -<p>"Yesterday: she called on my mother at Medmenham."</p> - -<p>"What did she say?" asked the elder man, abruptly and anxiously.</p> - -<p>George gave details in a blunt cool way, exaggerating nothing and -suppressing nothing. The effect on Lord Charvington was very marked. -He jumped up from his chair and paced the room, holding his head in -both his hands.</p> - -<p>"Good heavens: oh! good heavens," he muttered, "these women, these -women. How dare Helen speak so? What does she guess? What does she -know?"</p> - -<p>"About what?" asked George with keen curiosity, and his question -recalled Lord Charvington to the fact, which he seemed to have -forgotten in his agitation, that he was not alone.</p> - -<p>"Never mind," he said sharply, and returned to his seat more composed. -"Do you mean to say that Lady Charvington stated that she had found -the cross in this library?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir. And I thought that you might know----"</p> - -<p>"I know nothing," interrupted Charvington violently, and nervously -shifting various articles on his writing-table. "I know that there is -such a cross. I remember that Mr. Samuel Morse gave it to his -daughter, and remarked on its oddity. But how did it get into this -library?"</p> - -<p>"Did you not bring it here?"</p> - -<p>"No, sir, no." Charvington again rose and began to walk off his -uncontrollable agitation. "I have not seen that cross for years. The -last time I set eyes on it Miss Morse--I may as well call her Miss -Morse, since your mother has not revealed her married name--wore it -round her neck. My wife says that she found it here. I tell you, Mr. -Walker, that I do not know how it came into this room. I never saw -it."</p> - -<p>"How strange!" said George, believing this speech, but wondering -nevertheless.</p> - -<p>"But how comes it," asked Charvington wheeling, "that <i>you</i> know about -the amethyst cross, Mr. Walker?"</p> - -<p>"I received it from Lesbia as a love-gift," explained George, and went -on to relate the circumstances of the assault and robbery. Charvington -walked up and down nodding, and muttering at intervals. When George -ended he came to a halt before the young man.</p> - -<p>"Lesbia told me much of what you tell me," he said quietly, "but of -course I was ignorant that my wife had taken the cross from this room. -She did not tell me that. I cannot understand."</p> - -<p>"And I," said George in his turn, "cannot understand why Lady -Charvington is so bitter against Lesbia."</p> - -<p>"Ah! Woman! Woman!" said Charvington, with a gesture of despair, "who -can understand the nature of Woman! Let us leave that question for the -time being, Mr. Walker. What we have to do is to get at the root of -this matter. If the cross was in my wife's jewel-case, as she asserts, -undoubtedly the burglary was committed to gain possession of it. Hale -was the thief, as you know. He has sent me back the case intact. I -received it this morning, as only on condition of its being restored, -would I consent to hush the matter up. And I hushed it up for his -daughter's sake, Mr. Walker. But," Charvington wrinkled his brow and -threw back his white mass of hair, "the amethyst cross is not amongst -the jewels."</p> - -<p>"Hale probably kept it back. He wants it, you know, as he has some -idea of getting this money by producing it."</p> - -<p>"Yes! Yes! I heard something about that," muttered Charvington, "but -of course that is impossible, unless--unless----" he paused, opening -and shutting his hands feverishly. "Damn him," he burst out with a -stamp of his foot, "I would like to throttle him as he nearly -throttled you."</p> - -<p>George looked up in surprise. "Throttled me?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Charvington impatiently "can't you see? It must have been -Hale who assaulted you on the towing-path to get back that cross, and -he, as an expert thief, took the ornament from your cottage."</p> - -<p>"On the face of it, that appears probable," said George slowly, "all -the same I don't think it was the case."</p> - -<p>"Why not? He wanted the amethyst cross."</p> - -<p>"Quite so. But if he had obtained it from my cottage so long ago, he -would have taken it to Mr. Jabez to procure the money if possible. The -mere fact, too, that he was willing I should marry Lesbia, if I found -the missing ornament, shows that Hale did not commit the assault and -robbery."</p> - -<p>"Then who could have done so?"</p> - -<p>George shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say. Probably the person who -placed it in this room."</p> - -<p>"If it ever was in this room," muttered Charvington, darkly.</p> - -<p>"Your wife declares----"</p> - -<p>"Oh yes--oh yes. I know what she declares. Well, these things are not -to be threshed out in five minutes. Mr. Walker," he stopped short -before George, "do you wish to marry Lesbia?"</p> - -<p>"With all my heart and soul. We have come together again and last -night we renewed our love-vows."</p> - -<p>"They should never have been broken," said Charvington impatiently.</p> - -<p>"They never were, save by circumstances," said George solemnly, "our -hearts were always true," and he related the plotting of Maud and -Walter Hale.</p> - -<p>"Devils! Devils!" muttered Charvington, with another stamp, "and it's -all my fault--all my fault."</p> - -<p>"What!" George scarcely knew if he had heard aright.</p> - -<p>"All my fault I say." Charvington clutched his head with an expression -of pain. "You do not know, you can't guess--you--you--never mind. I'll -put an end to all this. You shall marry Lesbia and make her happy. I -shall settle Hale once and for all. Come, what is your idea?"</p> - -<p>"My idea," said George deliberately, "was, when I entered this room, -to ask you to give me enough, as a loan, to marry Lesbia, so that I -could take her to Australia or Canada and begin a new life. But now I -have changed my mind, as I can guess that in some way you can arrange -matters without my having to adopt such an extreme course."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Charvington quietly; "I believe that I can arrange matters -and in a very surprising way. They should have been arranged long ago, -only for the fact that I had not the courage. It is very hard to do -right sometimes. But the time has come. Mr. Walker, in three days -certain people must be brought together into this room."</p> - -<p>"What people, sir?"</p> - -<p>"Walter Hale and Lesbia; yourself and your mother; Mr. Jabez and -my wife. When we are all assembled I shall be able to straighten -things, crooked as they are at present. I ask you to see that these -people--saving my wife, who will be invited by me to be present--are -here on the third day from now at three o'clock in the afternoon."</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"Then you shall marry Lesbia and be happy ever afterwards. Now go."</p> - -<p>George went without another word, wondering very much at the turn -which events had taken. He had hoped that Charvington would arrange -his destiny and that of Lesbia, but the old nobleman seemed able and -ready to arrange the destiny of many other people. George could not -entirely understand the meaning of Charvington's behaviour, and after -a brief reflection did not attempt to. He decided to write a note -telling Hale and Lesbia to be at The Court at the appointed time, and -also to go personally to London to see Mr. Jabez and arrange for his -presence. Having thus made up his mind what to do, George strode -towards home whistling with a load off his mind. In one way or another -things would surely be put right.</p> - -<p>Then came a surprise. While passing through Nightingale Thicket the -young man saw Canning, looking more shadowy than ever, flitting down -the road to meet him. But as the man drew nearer George saw that his -usually pale face was flushed, that he was dressed spick and span as a -gentleman, and that there was a general look of opulence about him. He -glided up to Walker swiftly--for he appeared too unsubstantial to do -anything save glide--and broke into a voluble explanation.</p> - -<p>"Walker," he cried, and in loud tones which contrasted markedly with -his usual whispering speech, "I came down this morning especially to -see you. They told me you had gone to Charvington's place, so I -crossed the river and walked in this direction on the chance of -meeting you."</p> - -<p>"What's your hurry?" asked George, surprised by this change of clothes -and looks and manner.</p> - -<p>"I am leaving England, and have come to say good-bye. Let us sit down -on the grass by the roadside, no one will come along. After I have -explained, I shall push on to Maidenhead and take the train to London. -From London I go to Italy. Yes, an old aunt of mine has remembered me -in her will at the eleventh hour, and I have inherited two hundred a -year, an annuity, the principal of which I cannot touch."</p> - -<p>"Luckily for you," said George, taking out his pipe; "you would waste -it."</p> - -<p>"I daresay, I was always a wrong 'un. However, I go to Italy because -there I can live like a fighting-cock on an income which means penury -in England. I go also because Tait and Hale and the rest of them are -making things too hot for me. But before departing I wanted to see you -to confess."</p> - -<p>George lighted his pipe and looked sideways in surprise. "Confess -what?"</p> - -<p>"That I assaulted you," said Canning, nervously.</p> - -<p>"You," George glanced in amazement at the frail figure.</p> - -<p>"Yes. Of course I took you by surprise, or you could have knocked me -into a cocked-hat. You can punch me now, Walker."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to punch you as you put it," said George bluntly. "Of -course you acted like a skunk in sneaking behind me and knocking me on -the head, to say nothing of tying me up; all the same----"</p> - -<p>"I tied you up," said Canning, who had lain down and was smoking a -cigarette, "because I did not wish you to recover and get back to your -cottage at Medmenham until I had secured the cross."</p> - -<p>George turned indignantly. "Then you were the thief?" he declared.</p> - -<p>"Yes," admitted Canning, coughing. "Kick me. I'll take it lying down."</p> - -<p>"No," said George, after a pause; "you have done me a service through -Lesbia, by preventing the success of Maud Ellis's plot. The evil you -have done is counterbalanced by the good. But how did you get me into -Rose Cottage?"</p> - -<p>Canning sat up and looked puzzled. "I didn't do that," he said -earnestly. "I left you trussed on the towing-path like a fowl, and how -the deuce you got into the cottage I know no more than you do. Have -you never found out?"</p> - -<p>"No," said George promptly, "but I am beginning to find out many -things, and it is just possible that I may solve that riddle also. By -the way, why did you sneak the amethyst cross?"</p> - -<p>"My brother wanted it."</p> - -<p>"Sargent?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Hale came to Cookham on the evening when you proposed to Miss -Lesbia, and told Alfred that she had given you the cross. Alfred -insisted that I should rob you, and primed me with champagne to do -what he wanted. I started for the cottage with a sandbag and a rope to -stun you and bind you, hoping to take you by surprise. I saw you -coming along the towing-path in the twilight and then----"</p> - -<p>"Yes," George cut him short, "I know the rest. You crept up behind me -and stunned me and bound me, and then sneaked back to rob the cottage. -You are a pretty bad lot, I must say."</p> - -<p>"I am," said Canning languidly, "but now that I have enough to keep -the wolf from the door I'll reform. Besides, you can kick me as I -said."</p> - -<p>"I don't want to, you poor devil, since you have confessed and have -done me a service. Why did you?"</p> - -<p>"Because Miss Hale was the only human being who was ever kind to me," -said Canning, throwing away his cigarette. "Oh, Walker, you don't know -the terrible life I have had. I never was wicked, really I wasn't: -only weak, only easily led. I hated myself all the time I was working -for Alfred and those accursed wretches he associated with. I hated all -mankind because I was treated so badly: but Miss Hale changed my -nature by her kindness, and I did what I could to repair my wrong -towards her and towards you. Because she loved you I have confessed -because I want her to know the truth. Then I pass out of her life and -yours for ever. Take this address in London," Canning handed him a -pencilled card, "it will find me for the next week. After that I go to -Italy. Tell Miss Hale everything I have told you, and then ask her to -write and say that she forgives me. I don't want her to think badly of -me."</p> - -<p>George nodded and slipped the card into his pocket, feeling very sorry -for the miserable man. "Only one question I should like to ask," he -said, rising from the grass; "why did your brother want this cross?"</p> - -<p>"Lady Charvington--as I found out from overhearing a conversation -between them--asked him to get it."</p> - -<p>George thought of the lie told by the lady as to the cross having been -found by her in the library. "And why did she want it?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say," replied Canning, moving away; "ask her. Good-bye. And -Walker, my dear fellow," he added, "one last word. Maud Ellis and Hale -are plotting to get that money which should come to your mother. -Good-bye," and he disappeared down the road--withdrawing swiftly like -a receding mist. That was the last George saw of Arthur Sargent, -<i>alias</i> Canning, <i>alias</i> The Shadow.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">CHAPTER XXII</a></h4> -<h5>THE PLOT</h5> -<br> - -<p>But that Canning fairly ran away, George would have stopped him to ask -further questions. He had told much which was new and strange and -explained a great deal: but his last remark hinted at further -difficulties.</p> - -<p>Apparently, Hale had not yet given up all idea of procuring the money, -although how he hoped to do so in the absence of the child, George -could not understand. Of course, Walker felt very certain that Hale -had kept back the amethyst cross when sending the jewels to Lord -Charvington, but its production by Hale would have no effect on Mr. -Jabez. The lawyer wanted the cross to be produced by the child of -Katherine Morse--whatever her married name might be and, according to -Hale himself, the dying woman had no child. Mrs. Walker, indeed, had -stated that her sister had written about a sick child, but this had -probably died. If not, surely during all these twenty years the child -would have come forward to recover its inheritance.</p> - -<p>George was naturally puzzled with this new development, and decided -that to learn the truth it would be best to go to the fountain head. -That is, if Hale intended to use the cross to procure the money he -would have to produce it to Mr. Jabez in his office in Lincoln's Inn -Fields. It was thus best to go at once to Mr. Jabez and inform him of -what Canning had said about this new plot. What Maud Ellis had to do -with the matter it was impossible to say; George could no more -understand her connection with the matter than he could understand why -Lady Charvington had employed Captain Sargent to get her the cross. -What possible interest could she have in the amethyst cross? And why -had she told a deliberate lie about its being in the library?</p> - -<p>George was quite bewildered with the complicated state of affairs. And -Jabez, as he believed, alone could solve the mystery.</p> - -<p>George duly gave his mother Lord Charvington's message. She received -it in silence, but with a change of colour, which did not escape his -notice.</p> - -<p>"Mother," he asked abruptly, "what do you know about Lord -Charvington?"</p> - -<p>"He was not Lord Charvington when I knew him," confessed Mrs. Walker, -after a pause, "but Philip Hale. Hale, you know, is the family name -and Lesbia's father bears it as a cousin. Charvington had not come -into the title some twenty and more years ago. I knew him very well -and liked him," she sighed, "but he was always weak."</p> - -<p>George looked incredulous. "Weak," he echoed, "he seems to me to be a -very strong man and one who knows his own mind."</p> - -<p>"He has no doubt learned by experience," replied Mrs. Walker, "and -heaven only knows how badly he needed to learn. So he is going to -speak at last. He should have done so long ago."</p> - -<p>"About what, mother?"</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker pursed up her mouth. "Never mind, George, I prefer that -Lord Charvington should tell his own story. If he does, Walter Hale -will find himself in trouble, and I shall be glad of that. I have -waited long to see him punished: soon I shall be satisfied."</p> - -<p>"Why do you hate Hale so, mother?"</p> - -<p>"I have every cause to hate him," cried Mrs. Walker vindictively, and -her eyes glittered. "Years ago I loved Walter Hale."</p> - -<p>"You--loved--that--man?" said her son slowly.</p> - -<p>"What is there strange in that?" snapped his mother, trying to keep -her restless hands still. "He was handsome and clever and rich. I -loved him and I thought that he loved me. I gave him my heart and -found out only too late that he was playing with me. He was always -cruel and wicked and hard, selfish to the core and thinking only of -himself. We were engaged," added Mrs. Walker, drooping her head, and -in a lower tone, "and he confessed then that he had very little money. -He believed that I was an heiress, and so I was to the extent of fifty -thousand pounds. My father did not like him and declared that if I -married Walter he would cut me off with a shilling. I did not care, -for I loved the man for himself: but he loved me for my money, and -when he learned my father's decision he threw me over, and went after -some other woman who was rich."</p> - -<p>"Lesbia's mother?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose so," said Mrs. Walker, pretending indifference; "but he -vanished out of my life, and I heard that he was courting this -heiress, in the hope of making a good marriage for his pocket. I was -left alone, and I married your father Aylmer Walker, not because I -loved him, but because he was kind and sympathetic. Aylmer was a -spendthrift and wasted all my money; all the same he was kind-hearted -and not a scoundrel like Walter Hale. Then you were born and shortly -afterwards misfortunes came. I was only married four years when -your father broke his neck leaving me penniless. Then Kate eloped -with"--Mrs. Walker paused--"she eloped, that is all I can say. I saw -Walter Hale again and learned, and learned--oh!" he rose and wrung out -her hands, "what a villain the man is. But he shall be punished now. I -swear if Charvington will not punish him, I shall punish him myself."</p> - -<p>"But mother----"</p> - -<p>"Not a word," cried Mrs. Walker passionately, "I can't bear to discuss -the matter. When we meet at Charvington's place, the long-hidden truth -will come to light. Until then----" she stopped, closed her mouth, -shook her head, and left the room hastily.</p> - -<p>George wondered what could be the hidden truth she referred to, but -could come to no conclusion. He wrote a letter to Lesbia saying that -she was to come to Lord Charvington's place, and stating that he would -call to take her over. Then he smoked a pipe and retired to bed, -intending the next day to go to London and see Mr. Jabez in Lincoln's -Inn Fields. Mrs. Walker did not put in an appearance again on that -evening. Of course George, as a lover, lay awake and thought of -Lesbia. He was sorely inclined to postpone his visit to Mr. Jabez, and -go over to Marlow on the morrow, but it was necessary to execute -business before indulging in pleasure, since, when everything was -settled, he would have Lesbia beside him always as his dear wife. He -therefore restrained his longing for a sight of her face, and -gradually dropped off to sleep.</p> - -<p>Next morning Mrs. Walker had her breakfast in bed and did not see her -son. George left a message that he would return in the evening, and -went to Henley in his boat to catch the mid-day train. He soon arrived -in London, and without wasting time went to see Mr. Jabez.</p> - -<p>The old lawyer had a large and expensive office in Lincoln's Inn -Fields, and from the number of clerks was apparently much sought after -as a solicitor. He received Walker as soon as the young man sent in -his card, as it seemed that George had luckily arrived during the -slack season. "A week ago," said Mr. Jabez, in his precise way, "I -should have had to keep you waiting for some hours."</p> - -<p>The room in which Jabez received his client--as George was--was a -large apartment with a painted ceiling and three long windows looking -out on to the gardens of the square. Probably in Georgian days it had -held brilliant company, but now, since the tide of fashion had rolled -farther to the west, it was given over to the dry-as-dust details of -the law. Jabez looked as hatchet-faced as ever, and still wore his -large blue spectacles to aid his weak eyes. He welcomed George -politely in his dry way, and waited to hear what the young man had to -say.</p> - -<p>"Lord Charvington wants you to come down to The Court the day after -to-morrow at three o'clock," said George abruptly.</p> - -<p>"Why?" demanded Jabez quietly, and more puzzled than he chose to -admit.</p> - -<p>"I can only answer you by telling you all that has taken place," -answered the young man, and forthwith related what he knew.</p> - -<p>Nursing his chin in the hollow of his hand, Jabez crossed his lean -legs and listened quietly enough, nodding at intervals. "I thought it -would come to this," he observed, when the young man ended.</p> - -<p>"Come to what?"</p> - -<p>"An explanation."</p> - -<p>"Of what?"</p> - -<p>"Of many things which will astonish you," said Jabez drily. "Of course -I was acquainted with Lord Charvington when he was merely the -Honourable Philip Hale. Then----" Jabez suspended further confidences. -"It is best to allow Lord Charvington to speak for himself."</p> - -<p>"Do you know what he intends to say?"</p> - -<p>"Partly. And yet," mused the solicitor, looking at his neat shoes, -"there may be something interesting which I do not know. However, the -main point is that I shall arrange to be there at the stated time. The -gathering promises to be interesting. The cross," Jabez stopped, "h'm! -yes, the cross. I see now how Hale got it."</p> - -<p>"He stole it from Lady Charvington, who procured it from Sargent, who -employed Canning to thieve it from me," explained George.</p> - -<p>"So you said before, and I am not so stupid as to require a double -explanation," said Jabez crustily, "but I am wondering how Hale hopes -to get the money by means of this cross. Certainly he declares that he -has found the child, and----"</p> - -<p>"What!" cried George, starting to his feet in amazement.</p> - -<p>Jabez looked up and raised a hand. "Don't speak so loud, your voice -goes through my head," he said in his testy manner. "Yes," he searched -amongst some papers, "here is a letter from Walter Hale saying that he -will call to-morrow at noon with the child of Katherine Morse----"</p> - -<p>"Doesn't he mention my aunt's married name?"</p> - -<p>"No," answered Jabez, sucking in his cheeks, "and that is what makes -me suspicious of the affair. However, what you have told me to-day -about Lady Charvington's share in the business, and her husband's -attitude gives me an idea. Send a wire to Lord Charvington asking him -to meet you here to-morrow. Then you can both see Mr. Hale and this -child."</p> - -<p>"I should like to, but what use----"</p> - -<p>"There! There. I have no time to waste. Go and do what you are told," -said Jabez, rising with an angry gesture. "I may be wrong and I may be -right. But putting two and two together----" he stopped and walked to -the window, musingly, "yes, I believe it may be so."</p> - -<p>"What may be so?" questioned George, picking up his hat.</p> - -<p>Jabez wheeled crossly. "Oh, you are there still. Go away and send that -wire. At noon to-morrow, bring Lord Charvington here. Good-day," he -rang the bell, "get out, young Walker, you are taking up my time."</p> - -<p>Wondering at the behaviour of the lawyer, George departed and -forthwith sent a prepaid wire to Charvington, asking him to come to -the Lincoln's Inn Fields office. He had half a mind to go down and -explain personally, but as he could not explain very much he relied on -the wire, hoping that Charvington's curiosity would be sufficiently -aroused to make him obey the summons. Late in the afternoon an answer -came intimating that Charvington would be at Jabez's office at the -appointed time. George was greatly pleased, as he foresaw that Hale's -little plot would in some way be frustrated, Charvington apparently -knew of much to Hale's disadvantage; hence the wily old lawyer had -induced him to be present. Having come to this conclusion Walker wired -to his mother saying that he would remain in London, and employed his -evening in going to a music hall. He positively had to do so, for if -he had remained alone in his hotel brooding over riddles which he -could by no means solve, he felt that his brain would not bear the -strain. Still, in a vague way, he felt that all things were being -shaped to a happy end and that light was coming out of the darkness -which had enshrouded things for so long.</p> - -<p>At a quarter to twelve in the morning George met Charvington in the -semi-courtyard in front of the mansion, wherein Jabez had his office. -The elder man jumped out of the hansom, in which he had driven from -the railway station, and walked towards the young one with an elastic -step, after he had paid his fare.</p> - -<p>"What's all this, Walker?" he demanded abruptly. "Why did you wire for -me to come up on this day, and at this hour, and to this place?"</p> - -<p>"Come upstairs to Mr. Jabez and he'll explain," said George, leading -the way up the steps, "we cannot linger here. Hale may see us."</p> - -<p>"Hale," Charvington followed hurriedly and caught the young man's arm, -"and why is Hale coming here?"</p> - -<p>"He has found--so he says--my cousin."</p> - -<p>"Your--cousin?"</p> - -<p>"My aunt's child--the heir to the property which Mr. Jabez has held -for so long."</p> - -<p>Charvington stopped on the landing. "So Hale is going to anticipate -me," he muttered, and without waiting to be announced he opened the -door of Jabez's private room and strode in. The lawyer looked up -irritably.</p> - -<p>"I'm engaged. You, Lord Charvington? Well, I might have guessed as -much from your abrupt entry. You haven't changed much in your -impulsive ways."</p> - -<p>Lord Charvington threw down his hat and stick and gloves and flung -himself into a chair. "I have changed very much in looks," he -retorted; "however there is no time for these personalities. Walker," -he indicated the young man who had followed him closely, "tells me -that Hale intends to produce the heiress to his aunt's property."</p> - -<p>Jabez looked inquisitively at Charvington through his blue spectacles. -"I believe so," he said quietly and cautiously, with a glance at his -watch. "Hale will bring the girl here in a few minutes."</p> - -<p>"It's a girl then," sneered Charvington.</p> - -<p>"You mentioned the word 'heiress' yourself," remarked Jabez, with -emphasis.</p> - -<p>"A mere guess. And what of the cross?"</p> - -<p>"Hale says that the girl will produce it."</p> - -<p>"Humph! I don't believe that the girl will produce stolen property. -You know that the cross was stolen from my house?"</p> - -<p>"So I believe," said Jabez politely.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Walker here told me, though how it got into my library----"</p> - -<p>"I can tell you that now, Lord Charvington," interposed George, "as I -heard the truth from Canning the other day. Sargent employed Canning -to steal the cross in order to pass it over to your wife."</p> - -<p>Charvington bounded from his chair. "What did she want with it?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say--I don't----"</p> - -<p>"Hush," said Jabez, who, at the sound of wheels in the courtyard, had -gone to one of the tall windows; "here come Hale and his heiress. Go -into the next room with Walker, Lord Charvington. When I require you I -shall summon you."</p> - -<p>"But why do you bring me here at all?" demanded Charvington brusquely.</p> - -<p>Jabez looked straight at him and his long fingers played a tune on the -table. "I have an idea," he said gravely; "you may be able to tell me -if that idea is correct."</p> - -<p>"What is the idea?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot tell it to you, until I see this heiress."</p> - -<p>"Very good." Charvington sat down again. "Introduce her and Hale."</p> - -<p>"No! No!" said Jabez anxiously, "that would never do. Wait until I -hear Hale's story and then----"</p> - -<p>"Hale will only tell you a pack of lies," interrupted Charvington -violently. "And besides he stole the cross and----"</p> - -<p>Jabez put his hand against the breast of the angry speaker and pushed -him gently towards a side door. "Go in there and wait," he said -insistently. "You also, Walker."</p> - -<p>"No," cried Charvington, "I shan't."</p> - -<p>"If you don't," said the solicitor very quietly, "I shall wash my -hands of this matter. Already Hale and his heiress are waiting in the -ante-chamber, and if your voice is recognised, they will not come in."</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Because I believe that this is another of Hale's wicked schemes. Let -me hear the whole invention he has made up, and then I can call upon -you to substantiate the story."</p> - -<p>"But I can't wait. I want to know who this girl is."</p> - -<p>"Can't you guess?" demanded Jabez, leading him deftly to the door of -the inner room where he wished him to wait.</p> - -<p>"I can do more than guess, I know."</p> - -<p>"Humph," muttered Jabez, "I thought so."</p> - -<p>"You thought what?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind. If you know rightly, you will be able to help me."</p> - -<p>Charvington stamped. "I believe it's all lies. I want to see this -girl."</p> - -<p>"Well," said Jabez resignedly. "I shall do a thing I have never done -before since you will not be quiet otherwise. In the panel of this -door there is a small knot-hole. Look in and see if----"</p> - -<p>Charvington rushed into the room, dragging Walker after him, and -closed the door. Shortly afterwards they heard the entrance of two -people. The old man applied an eye to the knot-hole. Then he laughed -silently and made George apply his eye. "Look at the heiress," he said -sneeringly.</p> - -<p>Walker looked eagerly and saw--Maud Ellis.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h4> -<h5>ONE PART OF THE TRUTH</h5> -<br> - -<p>It was indeed Maud Ellis who entered on the arm of Mr. Hale. She was -carefully dressed and, as usual, had made the best of her looks, such -as they were. But she appeared to be anxious--to be strung up to -fighting-pitch--after the manner of a woman who anticipated that she -was not going to get her own way without a battle. On her entrance, -she measured the lean lawyer with the eye of an antagonist, and then -sat down in the chair which he politely pushed forward. As to Walter -Hale, he looked much the same as he always did, cool, polished, and -composed. Of course, he was perfectly arrayed in Bond Street taste, -and his manners were as irreproachable as was his costume. If Miss -Ellis was nervous, Hale assuredly was not. To Jabez, he suggested a -bowie-knife--an odd comparison, but one which came unexpectedly into -the lawyer's unimaginative brain.</p> - -<p>"You know, of course, Mr. Jabez," said Hale when seated, "what I have -come to see you about."</p> - -<p>The solicitor, who had taken his usual chair before the table, nodded -and pointed to Hale's letter which lay on the blotting-paper before -him. "To produce the amethyst cross," said he gravely.</p> - -<p>"And something more important than the cross. Allow me," Hale stood up -to give his words due effect, "to present to you, Miss Katherine -Morse----"</p> - -<p>"Oh," interrupted Jabez drily, "I understood from you that she died in -your Wimbledon house years ago."</p> - -<p>"You are thinking of my mother," put in Maud boldly. "She, indeed, is -dead; but I am her child and am called after her."</p> - -<p>"Even to the name of Morse?"</p> - -<p>"Later," said Hale, with dignity, "I can give you the married name of -this young lady's mother. Meanwhile, the cross is----"</p> - -<p>"Is here," said Maud, and opening a little bag which was swinging on -her wrist, she extracted therefrom a red morocco case and handed it to -Jabez.</p> - -<p>He opened it gravely and beheld the long-lost ornament. "It was my -dear mother's," added Miss Ellis with feigned pathos, as though the -sight was too much for her tender heart. "My grandfather gave it to -her, and----"</p> - -<p>"And your mother gave it to you," ended Jabez, seeing with his usual -keen gaze that her eyes were dry behind the handkerchief she was -holding to them.</p> - -<p>"No," she replied, unexpectedly and sadly. "I never set eyes upon it -until Mr. Hale saw me a few days ago."</p> - -<p>"Permit me to explain," said Hale, as watchful as a cat. "As I told -you, Miss Morse----"</p> - -<p>"Still no married name," muttered the solicitor ironically.</p> - -<p>"That will be told later," remarked Hale, provokingly self-possessed. -"I have first to tell my story."</p> - -<p>"Go on," Jabez stretched his legs and put his hands in his pockets, -"it is sure to be interesting."</p> - -<p>"I hope so," rejoined Hale, making a sign to Maud that she should not -talk, "and already you know much of it."</p> - -<p>"Let me see. Yes, I remember. You told me at Rose Cottage, in the -presence of Mrs. Walker, that Miss Morse died at your Wimbledon house -in the arms of your wife. She gave the cross to your wife, who -afterwards gave it to the nurse, Bridget Burke. She in her turn gave -it to your daughter Lesbia, who presented it to young Walker from whom -it was stolen. Am I right?"</p> - -<p>"Perfectly," said Hale gravely. "So you can see how Miss Morse here, -never set eyes on it until I brought it to her."</p> - -<p>"And how did you become possessed of it?"</p> - -<p>"I shall explain that, when you have heard Miss Morse's story."</p> - -<p>Maud put up her veil and wiped her lips. "I am only too anxious to -tell it," she declared eagerly, "and----"</p> - -<p>Jabez cut her short. "I am sure you are, but before hearing it I -should like to remind Mr. Hale that he declared in my presence and in -the presence of Mrs. Walker that there was no child."</p> - -<p>"Quite so," said Hale promptly. "I am not bound to tell you anything I -desire to keep silent."</p> - -<p>"I think you will have to do so, if you wish this young lady to get -fifty thousand pounds," said Jabez coolly.</p> - -<p>"Of course: that is why I am here. But I refer to the interview at my -Marlow cottage. Then, I was not bound to speak. I speak now. There was -not any child with Miss Morse when she died at my Wimbledon house. But -with her last breath she told me where she had left the child--in a -poor neighbourhood and with a poor woman."</p> - -<p>"Who was very good to me," said Maud, with tenderness very well acted. -"Dear Mrs. Tait, shall I ever forget her kindness?"</p> - -<p>"Tait. Humph. So that's the name, is it?"</p> - -<p>"The name of my foster-mother who brought me up. For years I have been -called Maud Ellis, but only when Mr. Hale came to see me bringing the -cross did I learn my true name and parentage."</p> - -<p>"Why did your foster-mother call you Ellis?" asked Jabez.</p> - -<p>"She passed me off to the world as her sister's child," said Maud -glibly.</p> - -<p>"Why? I cannot see the need."</p> - -<p>"Nor I," said Miss Ellis, with a swift glance at Hale. "But who knows -the human heart, Mr. Jabez?"</p> - -<p>"No one so far as I know. But you were saying----"</p> - -<p>"If you will permit me to tell my story I can make everything clear."</p> - -<p>"I am quite certain that you can," said the lawyer, politely ironical. -"Go on."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Tait kept a lodging-house in Bloomsbury. My mother lived there -after leaving her husband--my father, who treated her very badly. I am -right," she added turning to Hale, "in saying this?"</p> - -<p>"He behaved like a brute," said Hale emphatically, "but then he always -was a brute I am sorry to say."</p> - -<p>"Dear me," murmured Jabez, "proceed, please."</p> - -<p>"My mother left me with Mrs. Tait, as she had very little money and -went to seek out my father at Wimbledon one bitterly cold, snowy day. -He turned her from his door, and she nearly perished in the snow. -Fortunately this good man," Maud glanced pathetically at Hale, who -tried not to look too conscious, "took in the starving and chilled -woman. My mother died, and I was left to Mrs. Tait's kind care."</p> - -<p>"What about the cross?" asked Jabez abruptly, stifling a yawn.</p> - -<p>"I can explain that," interposed Hale quickly, "indeed I have already -done so. It was given to my wife and----"</p> - -<p>"Of course: of course, I remember now. Well," Jabez turned to Maud, -"so you remained with Mrs. Tait."</p> - -<p>"Until she died. Then her husband adopted me as his niece and with him -I lived, retaining my name of Maud Ellis."</p> - -<p>"There was a husband then?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Hale anxiously, "you may know of him, Mr. Michael Tait, the -stockbroking philanthropist."</p> - -<p>"Oh," drawled the solicitor quietly, "the same man who lost his jewels -the other day."</p> - -<p>"Yes," admitted Hale, quite ignorant of how much Jabez knew, "the -same. He was poor when Miss Morse--or Miss Ellis if you like--came to -his wife, and Mrs. Tait kept a boarding-house to help him. Then Tait -made a lucky speculation--he was a clerk in the City--and began to -grow rich. But before he could make a fortune Mrs. Tait died, and thus -never benefited."</p> - -<p>"No, poor dear, and she was so very kind," said Maud sweetly, -"however, when my uncle grew rich----"</p> - -<p>"Your uncle?" queried Jabez.</p> - -<p>Maud coloured to the roots of her sandy hair. "I have fallen into the -habit of calling my friend Mr. Tait my uncle. And, indeed, until the -other day I almost thought that he was my uncle until I knew the -truth. But as I was saying, Mr. Jabez, my uncle--for I still call Mr. -Tait so--placed a magnificent tombstone over her remains when he grew -rich. That is my story."</p> - -<p>"A very interesting one," said Jabez politely. "Then I take it that -you are the young lady entitled to fifty thousand pounds."</p> - -<p>"I am. I understood that when I came and presented that cross," Maud -pointed to the ornament on the table, "that the money would be given -to me."</p> - -<p>"You certainly said as much to me, Jabez," chimed in Hale anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Quite right. The cross," Jabez waved his hand, "was only a little -attempt of mine to introduce romance into the dry details of the law. -Of course it is a means of identification, but it will be necessary -for Miss Ellis to produce her certificate of birth, her baptismal -certificate and----"</p> - -<p>Hale bit his finger with vexation. "I anticipated that objection," he -interrupted in hard tones, "and I knew you would make it."</p> - -<p>"In the interest of Mrs. Walker I must make it."</p> - -<p>"Yes! yes. But the fact is, that only Mrs. Tait, besides the mother, -knew where the certificate of birth and that of baptism were to be -found. They are both dead, as you have heard, so----"</p> - -<p>"So," ended Jabez rising to stand before the fireplace, "so there will -be no chance of this young lady getting the money."</p> - -<p>"Don't you believe my story?" demanded Maud angrily.</p> - -<p>"Oh yes. One has only to look into your face, my dear madam, to -be certain that you speak as you believe. But the law is not so -tender-hearted as I am. The law requires proofs."</p> - -<p>"The amethyst cross----"</p> - -<p>"Is one proof, but others are required. Then, you see, the cross was -stolen and has not been in your possession all these years. It is not -a very strong proof of your identity."</p> - -<p>"I can make an affidavit," said Hale sharply, "swearing that the -mother me told where the child was to be found."</p> - -<p>"Quite so, and doubtless Mr. Tait--then in the Bloomsbury -lodging-house kept by his wife--can make another affidavit showing how -the mother left the child in his wife's charge."</p> - -<p>"Of course," assented Hale readily. "Tait will do anything I ask him."</p> - -<p>"And my uncle," said Maud, "for I must call him uncle, will only be -too glad to see me come into my kingdom."</p> - -<p>"Oh, I am certain of that," said Jabez, trimming his nails rapidly -with a little knife, "and to show your gratitude, you will doubtless -divide the money with him."</p> - -<p>"Oh no. My uncle is too rich to need help," said Maud virtuously.</p> - -<p>Jabez shut the knife and restored it to his pocket. "So he made enough -by the double deal of the jewels and the insurance fraud to tide over -the financial crisis which threatened him," he said deliberately.</p> - -<p>Maud turned pale and uttered an exclamation. "I don't understand."</p> - -<p>"Do you, Mr. Hale?" asked Jabez.</p> - -<p>"No," said the man coldly, "I know nothing of Tait's business."</p> - -<p>"Rubbish! rubbish! See here, Hale, and you, young woman, before you -came here to try your games on me, you should have made certain that I -knew nothing of your doings. As it is, from Mrs. Walker, from her son, -and from various other people, I know all that has taken place in -connection with that cross from the time Miss Lesbia Hale gave it to -her lover, and----"</p> - -<p>"You insult Miss Morse," interrupted Hale furiously.</p> - -<p>"Miss Maud Ellis you mean," sneered the lawyer, "and--no you don't," -he stretched out his long arm, and snatched the cross away, before -Hale could lay a finger on it. "That belongs to Mrs. Walker's niece."</p> - -<p>"I am Mrs. Walker's niece," panted Maud, standing up with a red and -furious face. Since Jabez appeared to know so much, she saw very well -that the plotting of herself and Hale had come to an untimely end. -Nevertheless, like a woman, she persisted in fighting, even when the -game had been irretrievably lost. "She will acknowledge me."</p> - -<p>The lawyer slipped the case containing the cross into the pocket of -his coat and faced round. "If Mrs. Walker will acknowledge you as her -niece," he declared, "I will give you the money."</p> - -<p>"What's the use of talking in this way?" cried Hale angrily. "You know -well enough that Mrs. Walker wants the money for herself. She will -certainly not help this poor girl to gain her rights."</p> - -<p>"Girl," echoed Jabez cruelly, and with his eyes on Maud's plain face, -which showed elderly lines. "I am no judge of a lady's age, but----"</p> - -<p>"Brute! brute," cried Miss Ellis, making for the door. "Hale, come -away, I am not going to stand here and be insulted."</p> - -<p>"I am coming," said Hale sullenly: then turning to the lawyer: "as to -these veiled accusations you bring against me----"</p> - -<p>"Oh, you want me to speak clearer. Very well, then. You, Mr. Hale, and -you, Miss Maud Ellis, belong to a gang of clever thieves. The police -have been trying to break up the gang for years: but hitherto have not -succeeded. Now they will lay hands on one and all."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" gasped Maud, trembling. "What nonsense you talk."</p> - -<p>"The police do not think so. You and Hale had better make yourselves -scarce, for one of your gang has given the rest away."</p> - -<p>"Canning, blast him!" shouted Hale fiercely.</p> - -<p>"Ah!" Jabez turned on him, "you admit then that I speak the truth."</p> - -<p>"I admit nothing," muttered Hale, wiping his face.</p> - -<p>"As you please," Jabez moved towards the door leading into the inner -room where Lord Charvington and George were concealed, "but Canning is -now in communication with the police. I learned yesterday that he knew -all. I got his address from young Walker, and have seen him. To save -his own skin he will turn king's evidence and you and Miss Ellis -there, and her dear uncle and Sargent, and a few others, including -Mrs. Petty, will be----"</p> - -<p>"Damn you," cried Hale, while Maud stood trembling at the outer door, -which she had not strength enough to open, "I'll kill you."</p> - -<p>With outstretched hand he lunged forward to grip the lawyer. Jabez on -the watch dexterously slipped aside and flung open the door. Hale -unable to restrain his impetus plunged right through the entrance into -the strong arms of George Walker. That young gentleman picked him up -like a feather and carrying him into the outer room, flung him into -Jabez's chair. Maud uttered a cry of alarm. She did not know Lord -Charvington: but she knew George, and guessed that he had overheard -the whole wicked plot. Overcome with shame she tore blindly at the -door, opened it hurriedly and fled away, pulling down her veil to hide -her shameful face. She could not meet the eye of the man, whom she had -wronged so deeply, because she loved him too well.</p> - -<p>None of the three men followed her, as their attention was taken up -with Hale. Over him stood George, righteously indignant. "You -confounded blackguard," cried George between his teeth, "if you were -not Lesbia's father I would murder you."</p> - -<p>"Set your mind at rest on that point, George," said Lord Charvington, -who was strangely white, "I am Lesbia's father."</p> - -<p>"You!" George recoiled, dazed and startled. "Katherine Morse was my -first wife and I am Lesbia's father."</p> - -<p>"Now," said George to Hale, "I can choke the wicked life out of you."</p> - -<p>But Charvington stopped him. "Leave him to God."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h4> -<h5>ANOTHER PART OF THE TRUTH</h5> -<br> - -<p>A day or so after the scene in the Lincoln's Inn Fields office, a -party of those interested in the circumstances connected with the -amethyst cross assembled in the library of The Court. George was -present with Lesbia by his side--Lesbia, still ignorant of her true -parentage. Mrs. Walker, looking less grim than usual, had a seat near -Mr. Jabez, who had come down to hear Lord Charvington's story and to -witness the righting of the wrong which had been done to Lesbia. But -two people who should have been on the spot were absent--Walter Hale -and Lady Charvington.</p> - -<p>On returning from London, where he had admitted the truth, Charvington -had interviewed his wife. What took place between them was never -known, for out of shame for the lady's behaviour Charvington said as -little as he could, when explaining fully. But his wife must have been -dissatisfied with the conversation, for she left The Court and -returned to London. In spite of what her husband said, she absolutely -refused to be present at the rehabilitation of Lesbia, and it must be -confessed that Charvington felt relieved. He knew his wife's fiery -temper and vindictive nature well, and therefore dreaded lest she -should make a scene. Besides he was manifestly in the wrong, and when -given an inch Lady Charvington immediately took an ell with all the -zest of an ungenerous woman. Mrs. Walker having been the lady's -schoolfellow had something to say on the subject: but she reserved her -remarks until she heard Charvington's story. She, for one, was not -astonished at Lady Charvington's failure to put in an appearance at -the conference. She had never credited her with a kindly heart willing -to forgive and forget. And time proved that her estimate was right.</p> - -<p>As to Hale, the interview in Jabez's office had more or less done away -with the necessity for his presence.</p> - -<p>He admitted the truth of Charvington's statement to Jabez, and after -confessing the whole of his wicked plots to gain possession of Mrs. -Walker's money--or rather the money which now belonged to Lesbia as -her mother's heiress,--he had been permitted to depart. This he did, -knowing that the police were on his track, and that unless he could -get out of the country he would be in danger of arrest. And if he were -arrested he knew well enough that he would suffer a long term of -imprisonment. Destiny, as Mrs. Walker had remarked, had been very kind -to him, but the hour had arrived when she demanded the return of all -the good fortune which she had lent. And Hale lurked in byways, -trembling for the payment of the bill which the police--as Destiny's -agents--were trying to present. He did his best to give the police no -chance of presenting it, and longed--like David--for the wings of a -dove that he might fly away and be at rest.</p> - -<p>But enough people were present to give Charvington an opportunity of -confessing his weakness and folly and, to be plain, cowardice, or, to -be generous, want of courage. Only George and Jabez knew what he was -about to say, as they already had heard the confession in the office. -But Mrs. Walker and Lesbia were ignorant, and although they guessed -that they had been brought there to hear how things could be righted, -they little suspected the way in which this would be accomplished.</p> - -<p>Lord Charvington glanced round at the attentive faces, and then -abruptly plunged into the middle of his his story. It was not an easy -one for him to tell, and only sincere repentance made him bold enough -to open his mouth. "I have to right a great wrong," he said with -considerable emotion, "a wrong done to you, Lesbia."</p> - -<p>"To me!" The girl looked surprised and clutched George's hand tighter.</p> - -<p>"Yes! Listen. For you to understand I must go back over twenty years. -You remember that time, Judith?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Walker quietly, "but you should go back nearly thirty -years, Philip. George is now five-and-twenty and I married his father -some seven years previous to the time you speak of."</p> - -<p>"I begin some twenty-three years ago," said Charvington, after a -pause, "as it was then that I married your sister Katherine. Lesbia," -he turned to the girl, "you are now twenty I believe?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but what have I to do with----"</p> - -<p>"You have everything to do with it," interrupted Charvington, "for I -am your father, Lesbia--your guilty, cowardly, cruel father."</p> - -<p>"What!" Mrs. Walker rose slowly with a pale face and indignant eyes, -"do you mean to say that this girl is my sister's child?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and as such inherits the money."</p> - -<p>"I don't want it," said Lesbia, who was as pale as a wintry moon, for -she could scarcely grasp the significance of her father's statement.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker waved the objection aside. "I don't mind about the money," -she said harshly, "and if George marries Lesbia the money is well -bestowed. But to think that you, Philip, should know the truth and -conceal it. I always thought that you were more sinned against than -sinning, Philip, as Hale was your evil genius. But if you knew that -Lesbia was your daughter why did you permit her to call that wretch -father?'</p> - -<p>"I am about to explain," said Charvington, trying to speak quietly, -"and I remember the time, Judith, when you would not have called Hale -a wretch."</p> - -<p>"I remember it also," said Mrs. Walker, sitting down, "a time when I -loved the man. But you know, Philip, how he deceived me and left me -and threw me into the arms of George's father. I can neither forgive -nor forget the cruelty with which he treated me. And you allowed your -own child--my poor Kate's daughter--to call him father. How could you? -how could you?"</p> - -<p>"I was wrong, Judith----"</p> - -<p>"Wrong," she repeated strongly, "you were wicked and cruel. What -induced you to arrange matters so? Why was not Lesbia given into my -charge? I was her aunt; I had the right to look after her. But I -expect you and Mr. Jabez made up the matter between you and----"</p> - -<p>"Pardon me," said the lawyer politely, "but I knew nothing for ever so -long, and if I had known, I should have given the money which I held -in trust to Miss Lesbia Hale."</p> - -<p>"Is my name Lesbia Hale?" asked the girl, who looked pale and scared.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said her father, "Hale is my family name. You are Lesbia Hale, -as your half-sisters are Agatha and Lena Hale."</p> - -<p>"My half-sisters?" muttered Lesbia bewildered.</p> - -<p>"Of course. Your mother was my first wife, and you are her child; -Helen Harrowby is my second wife, the mother of Agatha and Lena."</p> - -<p>"Helen Harrowby," said Mrs. Walker with scorn. "Oh, I know her well, -better than you know her, Charvington, or you would never have married -her."</p> - -<p>"Heaven knows that I have learned to know her," said the man bitterly, -"but allow me to explain myself, and----"</p> - -<p>"One moment," put in Jabez, "I wish to explain on my part to Mrs. -Walker, that I knew nothing of the truth for years. It was only when -you, madam," he addressed himself directly to Mrs. Walker, "told me -of the theft of the amethyst cross, and how your son had obtained it -from Miss Hale, that I got an idea. I fancied--on account of the -cross--that Miss Hale might be your sister's child, but Hale swore, if -you remember, that there was no child."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said George caustically, "and then tried to pass off Maud Ellis -as the child so as to get the money."</p> - -<p>"That plot was doomed to fail from the first," said Jabez waving his -hand, "as by then, I knew too much. I did not like to declare my -belief that Miss Hale was the missing child, until I had further -proof. In one way and another the proofs came to hand. When Lord -Charvington appeared in my office at my request, immediately before -Hale called with Miss Ellis, I was then pretty well convinced that he -was Miss Hale's father. I was right."</p> - -<p>"But you knew for years that he had been my sister's husband," said -Mrs. Walker, "and knowing that, you should have asked him about the -child."</p> - -<p>"You knew also. Why did not <i>you</i> ask?"</p> - -<p>"Because from Kate's letter to me saying that the child was -dangerously ill, I believed that it had died."</p> - -<p>"You told me that," said Jabez, "and I thought so also. Perhaps I have -been blind and have not done justice to my legal training. However, -the case is a very peculiar one. Let us hear what Lord Charvington has -to say, and then, if necessary, I can exonerate myself further."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker moved her chair and caught Lesbia's disengaged hand. "I am -quite ready," she said calmly, "and before Charvington speaks, I must -thank him for giving me back Kate's child."</p> - -<p>Lesbia was too overcome to speak coherently, but muttering something -unintelligible, she sat between mother and son, her aunt and her -cousin, allowing them to hold her hands, and feeling, poor child, that -at last she had someone to love her, and cherish her, and take care of -her. Lord Charvington cast a longing glance at the trio. He would have -liked to take Lesbia in his arms, but it was part of his punishment to -see her cling to others, while he detailed the folly that had led to -his isolation.</p> - -<p>"When I was young," he said in a steady voice, and speaking slowly, -"there were two people between myself and the title I hold. I was then -merely Philip Hale."</p> - -<p>"The Honourable Philip Hale," said Mrs. Walker promptly.</p> - -<p>"No," he contradicted, "no, Judith, my father was only a younger son. -I had no title whatsoever until the death of my cousins by drowning -placed me here as head of the family. And I had no expectation then of -becoming rich and titled. I was simply a briefless barrister."</p> - -<p>"And Walter's closest companion," muttered Mrs. Walker.</p> - -<p>"Yes. But Walter was not so wicked in those days as he has since -proved to be."</p> - -<p>"He was always wicked," snapped the woman, "he was your evil genius."</p> - -<p>Charvington passed his hand through his white hair. "I fear he was. -However, we can talk of that later. Walter and I were the best of -friends, and it was Walter who introduced me to Mr. Samuel Morse, a -City merchant. He had two daughters. Judith----"</p> - -<p>"That was me," murmured Mrs. Walker, "and the other daughter was my -sister Kate. You loved Kate, and I thought that Walter loved me."</p> - -<p>"Walter behaved very badly," said Charvington promptly. "He was poor -while pretending to be rich, and so, when your father, not approving -of his scampish ways, learned that you loved him, Judith, he -threatened to disinherit you."</p> - -<p>"Quite so, and learning that, Walter threw me over. Later, I married -George's father, who was quite as scampish, but kind-hearted and -honourable."</p> - -<p>"Yes!" Charvington nodded, "I always wondered why Mr. Morse permitted -that marriage as he knew that Walker was quite as wild as Hale."</p> - -<p>"But he knew also that Aylmer was honourable, which Walter never was. -Let that pass, I was jilted by Walter and married Aylmer. I lost my -money and my husband, and was left with George to live on nothing. -That's my story, I want to hear yours."</p> - -<p>"You know most of it," said Lord Charvington, now speaking rapidly as -though anxious to end a disagreeable task. "I loved Kate; she was the -only woman I ever loved, but your father, thinking me as dissipated as -Walter, refused to permit the match. Kate eloped with me, and your -father would have altered his will but that he died before he could -send for his lawyer."</p> - -<p>"And that was me," said Jabez, "however, the will was very fair. You, -Mrs. Walker, got your fifty thousand when you married your husband, -and he soon got rid of it. The other fifty thousand pounds belonged to -Kate, but she never appeared to get it. Why not?" he asked -Charvington.</p> - -<p>"Walter Hale again," said that gentleman quickly. "Kate and I were -married and went on the Continent. I was poor and we lived quietly, -hoping that some day Mr. Morse would relent. Then we heard that he had -died. Walter undertook to find out about the will, and told us that -Kate inherited nothing, that all had been left to you, Judith."</p> - -<p>"And you believed him," said Jabez. "Why didn't you communicate with -me?"</p> - -<p>"I had no reason then to doubt Walter," said Charvington stiffly.</p> - -<p>"Augh," groaned Mrs. Walker softly, "you were always an honourable -fool."</p> - -<p>"I was, in believing Walter," said Charvington, "and not until lately -have I learned how I was deceived. Walter was always plausible and -clever. Besides, I kept the fact of my marriage secret from my father -lest he should disinherit me. Walter made capital out of that also. -Then there was Helen----"</p> - -<p>"Helen," cried Mrs. Walker, rising, much agitated. "She always hated -me and hated Kate because Kate was pretty and you loved her. Helen and -Walter caused all the trouble."</p> - -<p>"I know that now; I did not know it then," said Charvington sadly. "I -was always foolish as you remarked just now. I was living in Paris -with my wife. Lesbia was a baby then. We met Helen, who pretended to -be our friend."</p> - -<p>"A friend such as Walter was," muttered Mrs. Walker.</p> - -<p>"I fear so, but let us say nothing since Helen is now my wife."</p> - -<p>"You let her off too easily."</p> - -<p>"She is now my wife," said Charvington determinedly, "so that puts an -end to all discussion. Besides, Walter was to blame, as my wife -informed me in a conversation we had when she refused to be present at -this meeting. He worked on Kate's feelings and made her believe that I -was in love with Helen. I was wrong also, for then I went about much -with Helen, while my wife was ill, so that in the end Kate grew -jealous."</p> - -<p>"You treated her worse than I thought," said Mrs. Walker darkly.</p> - -<p>Charvington threw out his hands. "I never was a hero," he said -entreatingly, "but surely I have suffered for my weakness--the -weakness of a pleasure-loving man. I was wrong; I here admit publicly -that I was wrong. Surely you will believe that my repentance is -sincere."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker looked at his drawn face and admitted that it was. After -all, few men would have had the courage to stand up and speak as -Charvington was now speaking--to lay bare the secrets of their -weakness and strive, even at the eleventh hour, to make amends. -Charvington had sinned through weakness; he confessed through strength -gained from the lessons of a hard life, hard in spite of his outward -show of prosperity. "I forgive you," said Mrs. Walker in softer tones, -"go on."</p> - -<p>"I come to the cruellest part," said Charvington in a thick voice. -"Kate was so jealous that she fled with the child. I searched for her -but could not find her. It was in winter. Then Walter sent for me. I -came to England and he told me that Kate had come to him weak and ill -and almost starving. She had sold what jewels she possessed to feed -herself and her child, and only retained the amethyst cross which her -father had given her. Then she went to Walter at Wimbledon, and there -died in the arms of Bridget Burke."</p> - -<p>"Was Mr. Hale married then?" asked George anxiously.</p> - -<p>"No. He never married in his life. But when I arrived my wife was -buried and had left the child to the care of Bridget, and also had -given her the cross saying it was to be handed to Lesbia when she grew -up."</p> - -<p>"Bridget gave it to me on her death-bed," sighed Lesbia, who wept -bitterly.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I learned that," said Charvington with a heavy sigh. "But to go -back to my story. I repented deeply of the way in which I had behaved. -I meant no harm, and would have explained to my wife had she not left -me secretly. I never had an opportunity of explaining. Kate simply -disappeared and died. Owing to my conduct I did not dare to go near -you, Judith, or I might have placed the child in your care. As it was -Hale proposed that Lesbia should be nursed by Bridget and that I -should allow him money. I agreed to this, as at the time it seemed the -best way out of the difficulty. Then my cousins were lost at sea in -their yacht. I came in for a large income and for the title. My -relatives urged me to marry again. Chance threw me once more into -Helen's company----"</p> - -<p>"Chance!" snorted Mrs. Walker. "Chance! I know the minx."</p> - -<p>Charvington passed over this remark. "I married Helen and took up the -station I now hold. I arranged to allow Walter an annuity if he looked -after Lesbia. He did so, and gradually she began to look on him as her -father."</p> - -<p>"And you permitted that--you permitted that," cried Mrs. Walker -furiously.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Charvington with an effort. "Weakness again. My wife knew -the truth and I did not dare to bring my child into the house. I -provided that Lesbia should have a good education, and saw that she -had everything she desired. Walter was kind to her in his own way. -Gradually I came to accept the situation. Then the cross passed into -Walker's possession, and--" he threw out his hand--"you know the rest."</p> - -<p>George nodded. "But how did Lady Charvington learn the truth, and why -did she want the cross?"</p> - -<p>Charvington sighed again and hung his head. "I do not wish to speak -ill of my wife," he said in a low voice; "but in justice to Lesbia I -must be frank. Hale learned about the money waiting for Lesbia, and -knew that it could be obtained if the cross was shown to you, Jabez, -But Hale could not find the cross."</p> - -<p>"I know why," said Lesbia quickly, "Bridget kept it secretly -beside her, as my mother thought that Mr. Hale."--she did not say -father--"might take it away. My mother told Bridget that the cross -would prove that I was her child should any money be waiting for her. -Bridget gave the cross to me and made me promise to say nothing to Mr. -Hale, but to give it to the man I loved. While I was giving it to -George, Mr. Hale came and then----"</p> - -<p>"Then," said Lord Charvington, "he went to Cookham and told Sargent -that you, Walker, had the cross. My wife had already learned through -Sargent, who obtained the information from Hale, that if Lesbia -produced the cross she would inherit a fortune. Then--she--" he -hesitated.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker took up the explanation. "I can see it all," she said -scornfully, "Helen hated Kate so that she was determined that Lesbia -should not get the money and hired Sargent to get the cross. He did -through his brother. We know all about that. But did Helen know that -Sargent was a thief?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Charvington sharply. "Helen is not altogether bad. She did -not know of that, nor did she ever suspect that Walter was such a -rascal. I was amazed myself when I heard the truth. I only learned it -during the last few weeks. But you can see how the cross came into my -wife's possession."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said George, "but why did she tell the lie about its being in -the library?"</p> - -<p>"To conceal the fact of how she came to get it, as she knew perfectly -well that Sargent had obtained it in some underhand way. She guessed -that if she swore I had given her the cross, that no inquiry would be -made and, of course," he added apologetically, "as my wife, I should -have been obliged to support her."</p> - -<p>"Philip," cried Mrs. Walker, rising, "you are as weak as ever."</p> - -<p>"No," denied the man, "I am strong. Things being as they are, I must -make the best of them. Helen is my wife, and to save the honour of my -name all that I have told you must be kept silent."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker shrugged her stately shoulders. "I shall say nothing," she -observed, "neither will anyone else. As to Walter, he can be left to -the punishment of the law. But I am certain," she added, with -emphasis, "that as he knows everything, he will speak if only out of -revenge."</p> - -<p>Charvington winced. "As I have sown, so must I reap," he murmured. -"Let us hope that out of shame Walter will be silent and not add to my -burden, which is already sufficiently heavy. If I have sinned through -weakness, I have repented and I have been punished."</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker offered her hand. "You shall not be punished further by -me," she said generously, "you were always good and kind, Philip, but -very weak. I held my tongue about you, and I shall hold it still. As -to Walter----"</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Jabez, rising, "I daresay I shall find some means to square -him. In the interests of all parties, it will be best to give him a -sum of money and assist him to escape. Once abroad he will say -nothing, besides which he will not dare to venture back to England. -You forget, Lord Charvington, that although he has a hold on you by -knowing so much, you have a hold on him by what you know. Now if -I----"</p> - -<p>"Do what you think best," said Charvington, whose hungry, bloodshot -eyes were fixed on Lesbia, "I give you full permission. But my -child--" he held out his arms to Lesbia, who rose pale and -trembling--"will you not forgive me?" said the man in a thick voice. -"I have done you wrong, but I have suffered and I will make amends and -I--I----"</p> - -<p>Lesbia ran forward and threw her arms round his neck. "I forgive you," -she whispered, "and I will learn to love you, and--and--father!"</p> - -<p>Her voice rose in a scream. Unable to bear the joy of this -forgiveness, a long-threatened attack of apoplexy seized on the man's -weakened frame. He tried to speak, choked, grew purple in the face and -fell full length on the floor from the arms of the daughter he had not -acknowledged for so many years.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">CHAPTER XXV</a></h4> -<h5>REVENGE</h5> -<br> - -<p>A week later and George was seated beside Lesbia on the well-known -bench under the famous chestnut tree. Lord Charvington had recovered -from his apoplectic fit, and was now progressing favourably. For two -or three days Lesbia and Mrs. Walker had nursed him; but when Lady -Charvington heard of her husband's illness she came down to The Court -at once. A furious passage of arms took place between her and Mrs. -Walker, which resulted in the defeat of the latter lady. Her enemy, -being Charvington's wife and mistress of the house, had the power to -send away those whom she regarded as interlopers, and she exercised -this power forthwith. Lesbia departed under the wing of Mrs. Walker, -and Charvington was too ill to prevent his wife from behaving in this -despotic manner.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker desired the girl to come to Medmenham, there to remain -until such time as she could be married. But Lesbia, thinking of Tim, -insisted on returning to Rose Cottage. Jabez allowed her sufficient -money to live on, pending his handing over to her the invested fifty -thousand pounds, so there was no difficulty on the score of money. -Then it was unlikely that Hale would come back to see Lesbia, now that -she knew the truth; and under the charge of the devoted Tim, she could -remain quietly until George found occasion to make her his wife.</p> - -<p>But there was another reason why Hale could not come. He was in -hiding, for the information given to the police by Canning--forced, in -order to save himself, to turn king's evidence--had resulted in the -arrest of Tait and Mrs. Petty and several members of the infamous -gang, whose names Canning had supplied. But Hale had managed to -escape, likewise Captain Sargent, who had been warned by Maud. That -clever young lady, having seen at Jabez's office that the game was up, -did what she could to put the rest of the gang on the alert and then -vanished like a bubble. Things were in this position when George sat -hand in hand with Lesbia under the chestnut tree, discussing the -future.</p> - -<p>"I saw Lord Charvington yesterday," explained the young man, "and he -is now rapidly getting better. He proposes that we shall get married -next month and accompany him to the south of France. He has a villa -there which he will place at our disposal."</p> - -<p>"And Lady Charvington?" asked Lesbia timidly.</p> - -<p>"Your stepmother," said Walker, smiling.</p> - -<p>"No," said Lesbia shuddering, "don't call her that."</p> - -<p>"Why not? She has behaved exactly as a stepmother does--in fiction."</p> - -<p>Lesbia shook her head. "I think of her merely as Lady Charvington--a -stranger, and when we are married I shall never set eyes on her -again."</p> - -<p>"I don't think she wants to see you," said George drily. "She is still -vindictive. It seems that she always loved your father and can never -forgive your dead mother for having married him. Thus she visits her -anger upon you, my dear. However, what she does or what she says -matters little. And for her own sake she will say as little as -possible."</p> - -<p>"She is a strange woman," sighed Lesbia, "and very unhappy."</p> - -<p>"Don't make any mistake, my dear. Lady Charvington is too hard-hearted -to be unhappy. So long as she has her rank and her title and her -crowds of adorers, she cares for no one. Whatever love she may have -had for your father she has long since given entirely to herself."</p> - -<p>"Do Agatha and Lena know that I am their half-sister?"</p> - -<p>"No. I was talking about that yesterday to Lord Charvington. As you -know he has not been able to do anything because of his illness, but -he is only waiting to get on his feet again to put matters straight."</p> - -<p>"In what way?" asked the girl anxiously.</p> - -<p>"Well, you are his daughter, my dear, and he desires to acknowledge -you as such in the most public manner."</p> - -<p>"No," said Lesbia firmly and sadly, "that would be useless and would -do no good. Such an acknowledgment would only lead to a lot of -questions being asked by my father's friends, and then the whole -unhappy business would be raked up. I don't want my miserable story to -be published in the papers, especially as Mr. Hale's name is so -notorious. Let me marry you quietly, my dear, and then we can go away -to France with my father for a few months. I have you, I have the -money left to me by my mother, and I have found my real father--the -rest matters very little."</p> - -<p>George kissed her. "You wise little darling," he said admiringly, -"I think your decision is exactly what I should expect from your -commonsense way of looking at things. I agree with you, that it is -best to let sleeping dogs lie, and not to stir up muddy water, and not -to--to--what other proverb shall I use, Lesbia?"</p> - -<p>"'Let the dead past bury its dead,'" she replied, seriously. "We have -had much trouble, and we have been parted. Now the troubles appear to -have come to an end and we are together. Let us marry and enjoy our -good fortune and be happy in our own small way."</p> - -<p>"Amen! amen! amen!" said George, laughing, "and indeed I think we -deserve the good fortune for we did not refuse to bear the cross."</p> - -<p>"And so have gained the crown of perfect love," said Lesbia -contentedly as she nestled in her lover's arms.</p> - -<p>The garden was still brilliant with many-hued roses, and the river -murmured a joyous song as it flowed tranquilly under the deeply blue -summer sky. But the blackbird and his mate had gone away with their -brood and the nest was deserted. Still other birds remained and other -birds were singing lustily of summer joys. Basking in the warm -sunshine, contented with each other's company, George and Lesbia -passed into that hour of silence, which speaks of love so deep that no -speech is needed. They listened to the birds, to the river, to the -whispering of the breeze, and dreamed of a future that would always be -happy. They were together, they understood each other, so nothing else -mattered.</p> - -<p>But their golden hour was disturbed by Tim, who hobbled down the -pathway with a distressed look on his ugly, kind face. The two -expected him, so the arrival was not an intrusion. For several days -Lesbia had insisted that Tim should explain how much he had known of -the many disgraceful things lately found out. Hitherto Tim had evaded -an explanation, but on that morning he had gravely promised to tell -what he knew. Therefore, when he halted before the dreaming couple, -George roused himself.</p> - -<p>"Here is Tim, my darling," he said with a laugh, "put him in the -witness-box."</p> - -<p>"Ye might say the confessional, Masther Garge," replied Tim, squatting -on the dry grass and looking like a good-tempered gnome. "What is it -ye want to know, me darlin' heart?"</p> - -<p>"About my father--that is about Mr. Hale," said Lesbia, who had been -addressed.</p> - -<p>"The bands av death on him," muttered Tim, using an ancient Irish -oath. "Sure I knew he wasn't any kith or kin av yours, Miss, though by -the same token I niver rightly knew as his lardship was yer father."</p> - -<p>"Tim," said his young mistress severely, "you told Mrs. Walker in my -presence that there was no child with the poor lady who died at -Wimbledon."</p> - -<p>"Is ut yer mother ye talk av, Miss?" asked Tim innocently. "Sure ut -was lyin' I wor, an' if I hadn't lied, that divil--ut's the masther I -mane--wud have brought throuble on ye."</p> - -<p>"In what way, Tim?" asked George, looking puzzled.</p> - -<p>"Augh, nivir ask me, sor. But wasn't I always listenin' and pokin' an' -pryin' when that divil--ut's the masther I mane--had thim dirthy -tatterdemalions here? Thaves they wor, an' spies, an' racavers av -stolen goods, bad luck to thim! The masther caught me wan night an' -larned as I knew av the divilments he wor indulgin' in. An' ses he, -'Tim,' ses he, if ye breathe wan wurrd I go to gaol, an' by the same -token I'll see that Miss Lesbia goes wid me. Well ye know,' ses he, -'as she lies whin callin' me her father, but if ye tell her I am not,' -ses he, 'it manes gaol fur us both.' Augh!" Tim rocked in much -distress, "an' what cud I do, Miss dear, me not knowin' the true -father av ye."</p> - -<p>"And if you had known, Tim?" asked Lesbia anxiously.</p> - -<p>"If I'd known as his lardship wor yer father," said Tim emphatically, -"I wud have gone on me bare shinbones to ask him to take ye out av -this divil's house. But me masther--bad luck to him!--lied like the -father av lies, as he'll some day go to, an' being in the dark as it -wor, I didn't dare to let a mouse's squeak av what I knew come to yer -purty ears, Miss."</p> - -<p>"But you hinted that the cross would bring trouble, Tim."</p> - -<p>"I did that, Miss. Sure, whin the mother that bore ye died in the -arrums av me own mother she guv the crass, 'an',' ses she, wid her -last gasp, 'let me choild have it, whin she grows up to prove as she's -me lawful choild. An' if there's money comin',' ses she, 'though be the -same token, me sister has got it all, the crass may git it fur the -choild. But nivir let her see her father,' ses she, 'for a bad man he's -bin to me.'"</p> - -<p>"Not altogether bad, Tim," said Lesbia gently, "my mother was -deceived. Did she tell Bridget my father's name?"</p> - -<p>"No, Miss," said Tim promptly, "had she towld, I'd have larned it whin -me own mother died, and thin I'd have asked his lardship to take ye -from this divil--ut's the masther I mane. But me mother sid nothin' -for she knew nothin', save what she towld ye about the crass. 'And,' -ses me mother to me whin she guv ye the crass, there'll be throuble -over yon crass,' ses she, 'fur th' Sight's on me being near me latter -end,' ses she. 'Throuble there'll be over the crass, an' sorrow an' -tears an' sudden death. But thim who love will win clear and thim as -is bad will come to the black grave.'"</p> - -<p>"There has been trouble certainly, Tim," said Lesbia sighing, "and the -cross both began it and ended it, as your mother declared it would. -But now, thank God," she turned to place her arms round George's neck, -"it's all over and we shall have no more. Your mother prophesied -rightly, Tim, save that there has been no sudden death or black grave, -and there isn't likely to be."</p> - -<p>Tim rocked and shook his huge head. "Thim as is goin' to their long -rest sees things as thim aloive can't get a squint at. Me mother -foresaw th' sorrow an' tears av th' crass an' the joy which ye an' -Masther Garge there have now, good luck to both ay ye! So the sudden -death an' the black grave will come I doubt not. But here, me dears," -said Tim, after a pause, "there's wan thing ye don't know as I'll tell -ye."</p> - -<p>"And what is that?" asked George, smiling.</p> - -<p>"'Twas me, Masther Garge, as carried ye from the river bank to the -room in yonder," Tim nodded towards the cottage. "I wor out fishin' an' -I saw ye in the moonlight lying on the path, though be me sowl I nivir -dreamed 'twas you. I rowed ashore an' found ye stunned an' bound, bad -luck to the divil who did ut! I tuke ye into the cottage and called -softly to the young misthress there. She thought 'twas a drame an' -come down to see to you. An' now ye know, both av ye."</p> - -<p>Lesbia and George looked at one another in astonishment. "Why didn't -you tell us this before?" asked Walker sharply. "And why did you bring -me to the cottage?"</p> - -<p>"Sure now," said Tim in injured tones, "didn't I think as 'twas the -masther had been up to some divilment, and didn't dare spake in case -he'd get Miss Lesbia clapped into gaol 'longside him? But I knew as -the masther wud nivir dare to harrum ye in his own house wid Miss -Lesbia by the side av ye, an' so I brought ye here into his very jaws -as it wor. An' wasn't I right, me dear sor?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," assented Walker promptly, "I think you were. It was very clever -of you to have protected me in that way, even though it was Canning -and not Hale who assaulted me. Well, Lesbia," he turned to the girl, -"here is another thing made clear. Quite a surprise."</p> - -<p>"I hope it is the last surprise," said the girl, wearily, "I am very -tired of being surprised."</p> - -<p>"In that case," said a smooth voice at her elbow, "you will be tired at -seeing me."</p> - -<p>Lesbia started to her feet with a cry, and George with an exclamation -of astonishment. As to Tim, he scrambled to his feet with an oath. -"Augh, murther! murther!" cried the Irishman, "it's the black divil -his own silf."</p> - -<p>"That's complimentary," said Hale, who was standing calm and composed -near the lovers. "You were so busily engaged talking, Lesbia, that you -did not hear me come down the path."</p> - -<p>"How dare you come here?" said the girl indignantly.</p> - -<p>"It's my own house. I had the key," retorted Hale coolly. "I opened -the front door and entered. Finding no one within I came here and find -that Tim is giving me away. But I am not so black as I am painted."</p> - -<p>"You are much worse, I daresay," said George bluntly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, you're there, you lucky young man," said Hale, raising his -eyebrows. "I congratulate you on marrying Lesbia and on getting the -money."</p> - -<p>"In spite of all your plotting," said Walker sharply.</p> - -<p>Hale sat down on the bench with a sudden look of fatigue. He was cool -and smiling and bore himself both shamelessly and dauntlessly. But it -was apparent that he behaved thus out of bravado. In spite of his -boldness, and of the fact that he was dressed as carefully as ever, he -was thoroughly ill and had his back to the wall.</p> - -<p>"You had better leave this place," said Lesbia, to her lover, "the -police are hunting for you."</p> - -<p>"Someone else is hunting for me," said Hale gloomily, "Maud Ellis is -on my track swearing vengeance."</p> - -<p>"Why should she?"</p> - -<p>"Because to get the money and induce her to play her part, I promised -to marry her. I have no intention of doing so. Then again, for my own -safety, I have sent a communication to the police offering to tell all -I know about Tait and his gang on condition that I am let off. Maud, -confound her, has found this out, and swears to have my life."</p> - -<p>"She would scarcely go so far as that," said George scornfully.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I think so," said Hale quietly, "she can't show herself, as she -is in danger from the police also, and so will revenge herself as she -best can. I don't think there's much she would stick at. I caught -sight of her on the London platform as I came down this morning, so I -expect she will follow me to this house. There will be trouble unless -you can aid me to get away."</p> - -<p>"How can we compound a felony?" asked George, frowning.</p> - -<p>"It is better than to see a tragedy," retorted Hale. "I am not afraid -of Maud unless she takes me by surprise; but that is just what she -will do. I am not your father, Lesbia, as you know now, and perhaps I -have not been kind in my treatment. All the same I ask you to exercise -that kind nature which you always declared you possessed, and give me -fifty pounds to get abroad with. Once across the Channel I can shift -for myself."</p> - -<p>"I have not got fifty pounds," said Lesbia hesitating. Badly as Hale -had treated her she yet wished to assist him, and truly he was in -great need of the coals of fire which she could heap upon his head.</p> - -<p>"You can soon get it," said Hale eagerly. "Charvington will give you -anything. Send Walker to ask him for the money and I can remain -concealed in the cottage until he returns."</p> - -<p>The lovers looked at one another. Both were inclined to assist the -miserable man, little as he deserved kindness at their hands. Tim, -with a grim face, stood neutral, but being of a less forgiving nature, -would gladly have pitched his old master into the river had Lesbia but -lifted a finger. But she gave no sign, so Tim waited. It was hard to -say what would have happened had not Fate decided the matter.</p> - -<p>The four people in the garden were so deeply engaged in conversation -that they did not observe a boat crossing the river from the opposite -shore, some distance above the garden. Tim, indeed, did catch a -glimpse of a craft holding two people, but did not take much notice. -The boat reached the near shore and then dropped down alongside the -bank until it was directly abreast of the chestnut tree. Then for the -first time, George and Lesbia looked round at the sound of dipping -oars. Hale raised his head and looked also. The next moment there was -the sharp report of a revolver and he rolled off the bench shot -through the breast. Twice again the revolver spoke and twice Hale was -wounded. Maud Ellis was a sure shot.</p> - -<p>"There," cried she, flinging the weapon ashore to Lesbia, "you can -finish him off. He betrayed my uncle, he betrayed me, he betrayed us -all. Only Sargent, who is rowing me, and I have escaped. Good-bye, -Lesbia, you have your lover--my lover--the man I adore. I hope -you'll be happy. I have done justice on that blackguard, so I -am going to clear. You'll never see me again, and you can thank your -stars that I did not kill you as well as that scoundrel there. -George--good-bye--good-bye."</p> - -<p>She sat down quickly in the boat, which was already receding rapidly -from the garden. Sargent apparently had not expected that Maud would -have been so thorough in her vengeance and could be seen talking -angrily to her. He rowed with all his might across the river, let the -boat drift down-stream and leaped ashore. Maud followed alertly and -the two set off running rapidly. Where they went, or how they escaped -George never knew; but that was the last seen of them in England.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Lesbia was on her knees beside the wretched man who -had done her so much harm, striving to staunch his wounds with her -handkerchief. Tim already had run up the path shouting for the police, -and George was about to follow, as he wanted Maud to be arrested for -her dastardly crime, when Hale opened his eyes.</p> - -<p>"Are you there, Lesbia?" he asked faintly. "It's no use my asking for -your forgiveness, as I hate being a sneak at the last moment. I have -lived bad and I have died bad. But I can say this, that you are the -sole human being I regret having injured. You are a fool, as you have -always been, like your father--but you are a sweet fool. And I--I----" -he choked.</p> - -<p>"Hush! hush!" said Lesbia distractedly. "George, take him into the -house, and fetch the doctor. We must save him----"</p> - -<p>"No," gasped Hale with a flash of energy, "don't save me to let me rot -in gaol. Maud has done me a good turn after all. I die and--and--I -cheat--I cheat the law," he opened his eyes again and stared at the -two pale faces, then smiled. "God bless you," he gasped, "oh, to think -that I should bless----" he laughed, but the effort was too great and -he fell back dead.</p> - -<p>At the same moment Tim came running down with a policeman at his -heels.</p> - -<p>"It's too late, Tim, he is dead," said Lesbia faintly.</p> - -<p>"Dead is ut?" muttered Tim, staring and crossing himself. "Then me -mother wor right in all she said. Sudden death and the black grave. -Augh! Sure 'twas the truth me mother spake afther all."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h4> -<h5>THE END OF IT ALL</h5> -<br> - -<p>THE villa owned by Lord Charvington at Nice was beautifully situated, -beautifully furnished, and beautifully built. Endless money had been -spent upon it to make it as perfect as any human habitation could be. -Lady Charvington was particularly fond of it, and her extravagance was -evident both in the house and in the lovely gardens. Great was her -rage when she heard that her husband had invited George and his young -wife and her arch-enemy Mrs. Walker to stay there with him. But she -was even more angry when she learned that Charvington had made a free -gift of the villa to his daughter.</p> - -<p>"His conduct has always been atrocious," said Lady Charvington to -Jabez, who was the sole person to whom she could speak of such things, -since for her own sake she was forced to hold her tongue to the world -at large, "but this is the worst thing he has ever done. How dare he -give my villa to that horrid girl?"</p> - -<p>"He has every right to," said Jabez drily, "as the villa is Lord -Charvington's own property. And I beg leave to state that I do not -consider young Mrs. Walker a horrid girl. She is very sweet, and is -bearing her good fortune as modestly as she bore her bad luck -bravely."</p> - -<p>"I hate her," said Lady Charvington fervently.</p> - -<p>"Why, may I ask?"</p> - -<p>"Because I hated her mother. I always loved Charvington, and she took -him from me."</p> - -<p>"But you got him in the end," Jabez reminded her.</p> - -<p>"Got him. Yes, I got the rags and tatters of the passion he had for -that detestable Kate Morse. I never forgave her while she lived, and I -certainly shall not forgive her now she is dead."</p> - -<p>"Very good; but you needn't hate her daughter," expostulated Jabez -earnestly; "consider how unhappy the poor girl has been, and through -no fault of her own. Even now--in deference to her own wish, I -admit--she is not acknowledged by her father, publicly at least."</p> - -<p>"I don't care," cried Lady Charvington, with all the venom of an angry -woman. "I hate the girl, and I shall always hate her. But I didn't -come here to listen to your views, Mr. Jabez. What I wish to know is -if I can insist that my villa shall be given back to me."</p> - -<p>"No," said Jabez, and very glad he was to be able to reply in the -negative, "the villa was never settled on you, and Lord Charvington -has a perfect right to deal as he pleases with his own property."</p> - -<p>"It is my property, and Charvington's a brute. I wonder that I ever -loved him--indeed I do," cried the lady vehemently, "and to think of -that horrid girl getting the husband she wanted and the fifty thousand -pounds, and my villa, and--oh!" she stamped, "it makes one doubt if -there is a Providence."</p> - -<p>"I fear," said Jabez gravely, as she rose to depart, "that some day, -if you bear such ill-will towards one who has never injured you, that -you will find there <i>is</i> a Providence."</p> - -<p>"Pooh! pooh! That's all goody-goody talk," said Lady Charvington -contemptuously, "but that I have to think of Agatha and Lena I should -get a separation from my husband. As it is, I shall spend as much -money as I can, and enjoy myself in my own way. I don't want to see -him."</p> - -<p>"I fancy you'll see very little of him," said Jabez drily, as he -accompanied her to the door. "Lord Charvington is fond of a quiet -life. All you have to do is to enjoy your position and the ample -income which he allows you, and hold your tongue about these family -troubles."</p> - -<p>"Oh, of course you are on his side," cried Lady Charvington in a rage. -"I really believe that you suggested he should give that nasty girl my -villa."</p> - -<p>"Pardon me," said the solicitor, skilfully dodging the question, "it -never was your villa."</p> - -<p>"It was, and she has stolen it. I only hope she'll be as thoroughly -unhappy as she well can be, with the fool she's married and her -disagreeable mother-in-law. Judith was always horrid."</p> - -<p>"I fear you will be disappointed. Young Mrs. Walker adores her -mother-in-law, and is adored in turn. They are, as you know, all at -the villa with Lord Charvington and, as I gather, perfectly happy."</p> - -<p>"How disgusting," cried Lady Charvington vindictively, "but I shall -wait for the interference of an overruling Providence. Some day the -sins of the lot of them will come home to them, and they will be -thoroughly miserable."</p> - -<p>"And your ladyship's sins?" inquired Jabez very gravely.</p> - -<p>"Sins," she stared, "I have none." After which speech, which -completely silenced the lawyer, so taken aback was he by its amazing -impudence, she took her departure. All the same she also took his -advice and said nothing of what had happened in connection with the -affairs of the amethyst cross. And in time--as she could not keep up a -hostile attitude for ever--she found it politic to smooth over things -with her worried husband. But she never forgave Lesbia to her dying -day.</p> - -<p>Not that Lesbia cared. She was absolutely happy with her husband and -mother-in-law and father at the villa. The income derived from her -mother yielded over two thousand a year, and this had been -supplemented by Lord Charvington, anxious to make amends. What with a -large income and a lovely villa, and a handsome, affectionate husband, -Lesbia was very fortunate indeed, and felt quite glad that she had -gone through so much trouble, to get to such a goal. Something of this -sort she said to her father one evening after dinner.</p> - -<p>The party were seated on the terrace which overlooked the deeply blue -waters of the Mediterranean. At the moment, these were dyed with rosy -hues from the setting sun. Mrs. Walker, looking much less stern and -much more composed, was seated in a deep arm-chair near Lesbia, whom -she could scarcely bear out of her sight. Lord Charvington, now -looking wonderfully hale and hearty--for it was six months since his -attack of apoplexy--sat near a small round table upon which stood -coffee and liqueurs. George lounged about with a cigar, casting looks -of affection on Lesbia. The quartette, arrayed in evening dress amidst -beautiful surroundings, looked thoroughly happy and well-to-do. After -the storm had come the calm, and when recalling the storm, as -sometimes she could not help doing, Lesbia always spoke cheerfully.</p> - -<p>"The trouble was worth going through, to come to this," she said, -smiling in a happy manner.</p> - -<p>"I think so too, dear," observed George, who was always hovering in -her vicinity. "And I think we have learned the lesson which those very -troubles were sent to teach."</p> - -<p>"What lesson?" asked Lord Charvington lazily.</p> - -<p>"To trust in God."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Walker, who was knitting, "you and Lesbia have -learned that, and I have learned a lesson also. I have learned to be -more sympathetic and more liberal-minded. We are all mortal, and no -one has any right to judge another person not knowing that person's -temptations."</p> - -<p>"Do you allude to Walter?" asked Charvington.</p> - -<p>"Yes. He behaved badly, I allow; but then his will was not strong -enough to struggle against the evil that was in him. And after all," -Mrs. Walker laid down her knitting, "he was terribly punished. He was -snatched out of life unprepared. I hope he has found mercy. But the -evil that he did lived after him. Alas! Alas!"</p> - -<p>"I think Tait and his gang found that was so," said George grimly. -"From what was said at the trial, it seemed that Hale was the soul of -the gang, even though Tait posed as the head. Canning, of course, -escaped because he turned king's evidence and is now in Italy; but -Tait got a long sentence."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Petty and the rest of the gang also," observed Charvington, "but -Maud Ellis and Alfred Sargent escaped."</p> - -<p>"They were very lucky," said George reflectively. "The police, advised -by Tim, were on their track almost at once, but they never caught -them. As they were not disguised I wonder that they ever escaped."</p> - -<p>"Hale was not disguised either, I heard you say," remarked -Charvington. "It seems to me that audacity favoured the lot of them. -Hale would have escaped also, I doubt not, had he not been shot by -that wretched woman."</p> - -<p>"Why do you shudder, George?" asked Mrs. Walker, at this point.</p> - -<p>"I am thinking how easily she could have shot Lesbia," said George -reluctantly. "She had two or three shots left after she polished off -Hale. But she flung the revolver ashore and made a sentimental speech -wishing myself and Lesbia good luck. I should have thought--but -there," George sighed, "no man can understand a woman."</p> - -<p>"No woman can understand a man," said Lesbia, laughing. "But I am glad -Maud did not shoot me. Where is she now?"</p> - -<p>Charvington removed his cigar. "I have reason to believe, from some -facts which came to Jabez's ears, that she has married Alfred Sargent -and is engaged in making trouble in a South American Republic."</p> - -<p>"Sargent is not strong enough to do much," objected George.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Walker shook her head. "I believe Alfred Sargent was a much -cleverer man than his appearance warranted," she said sharply. "He -looked like a fool, but he acted like a wise man. Not only did he -escape, but he managed to carry off his thievish earnings. Then look -how cleverly he behaved in society in never being suspected. Yet he -stole--as we learned at the trial of Tait and the rest--at balls, at -weddings, from private houses, and blackmailed any number of people. A -dangerously clever man, I call him."</p> - -<p>"Well, don't let us talk any more about him," said Charvington -impatiently, "Maud is clever if you like, and probably will end in -imposing him on some second-rate republic, as its President, even -though he is a foreigner. I believe that there is no end to that -woman's ambition. But he and she are both out of our lives. Also Hale -is dead, and as Lesbia has now changed her name, she will not be -connected with the sordid past in any way. Let us talk of something -more agreeable."</p> - -<p>"The amethyst cross for instance," said Lesbia pointedly.</p> - -<p>Charvington wriggled. "Why? That belongs to the disagreeable past."</p> - -<p>"It taught George and me a lesson," said Lesbia seriously, "and I am -sorry that it has been lost sight of."</p> - -<p>"It has not been lost sight of," said Charvington, after a pause. -"Jabez got it from Hale and restored it to me. But I did not show it -to you, Lesbia child, because I thought that the sight of it would be -painful."</p> - -<p>"Not now, that I have learned its lesson. Where is it, father?"</p> - -<p>"Call Tim."</p> - -<p>Lesbia rang a silver bell which was on the table and shortly Tim, -looking more grotesque and more like a gnome than ever, appeared. He -was with the young couple as the majordomo of their small household, -and enjoyed himself hugely. "Tim," ordered Lord Charvington, giving -him a key, "go to my study and open my dispatch box. Bring me the -morocco case you will find in it. A red morocco case."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yer lardship," said the majordomo gravely, as he departed.</p> - -<p>"Are you sure you want the cross, Lesbia?" asked Mrs. Walker -seriously.</p> - -<p>"Yes. Whenever I forget to be kind and thoughtful, whenever I am -inclined to judge others harshly, the cross will remind me of my own -shortcomings."</p> - -<p>"You have none, dear," said George fondly.</p> - -<p>"George," Mrs. Walker smiled, "you are spoiling her."</p> - -<p>"I know someone else who spoils me more," whispered Lesbia roguishly, -and Mrs. Walker smoothed the girl's hair.</p> - -<p>At this moment Tim returned with the case. Lord Charvington opened it -and took out the ornament which glittered in the rosy hues of sunset.</p> - -<p>"Presarve us!" whispered Tim crossing himself. "The unlucky crass!"</p> - -<p>"Lucky now, Tim," said Charvington, slipping a slender watch-chain he -wore from his waistcoat. "It found me my daughter. Here, Lesbia," he -threaded the loop at the top of the cross, "you can wear it now."</p> - -<p>Lesbia bent her head and her father threw the chain on her neck. The -amethyst cross gleamed with purple fire on her white bosom, a symbol -of all that had passed and a symbol also of a brighter future. "I -shall always wear it," said Lesbia with serious lovely eyes.</p> - -<p>"'Refuse and lose,'" said George meditatively, "well we have not -refused the cross although I daresay had it been in our powers to do -so we should have shirked the burden."</p> - -<p>"Thank Heaven you were not allowed to, for the bearing of the burden -has taught you much," said Mrs. Walker devoutly.</p> - -<p>"It has earned me the crown of perfect love," said George, drawing -Lesbia to his breast.</p> - -<p>"And that is worth everything," Lesbia replied, kissing him.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE END</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>COLSTON AND CO. LTD. PRINTERS, EDINBURGH,</h5> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Amethyst Cross, by Fergus Hume - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMETHYST CROSS *** - -***** This file should be named 56230-h.htm or 56230-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/6/2/3/56230/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by La -Trobe University, Australia - - -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: The Amethyst Cross - -Author: Fergus Hume - -Release Date: December 23, 2017 [EBook #56230] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AMETHYST CROSS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by La -Trobe University, Australia - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page scan source: http:// - arrow.latrobe.edu.au/store/3/4/6/3/1/public/B14644101.pdf - (La Trobe University, Australia) - - - - - -[Illustration: Front cover] - -THE AMETHYST CROSS - - - - - - -------------------------------------- -_BY THE -SAME AUTHOR_ -------------------------------------- - -THE MYSTERY -OF A SHADOW -------------------------------------- -CASSELL AND COMPANY, LTD. - -LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK, TORONTO -AND MELBOURNE -------------------------------------- - - - - - - -[Frontispiece: "'Father!' she shrieked!" (_see page 194_.)] - - - - - - -THE -AMETHYST CROSS - - - -BY -FERGUS HUME - -AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," -"FLIES IN THE WEB," "THE PURPLE FERN," -"THE MYSTERY OF A SHADOW," ETC. - - - -WITH COLOURED FRONTISPIECE BY -C. DUDLEY TENNANT - - - - -CASSELL AND COMPANY, LIMITED -LONDON, PARIS, NEW YORK, TORONTO AND MELBOURNE -1908 - - - - - - -ALL RIGHTS RESERVED - - - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAPTER - -I. THE BEGINNING OF A MYSTERY -II. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS -III. ANOTHER MYSTERY -IV. A FAMILY HISTORY -V. MRS. WALKER'S OPINION -VI. PURPLE AND FINE LINEN -VII. AFTER MIDNIGHT -VIII. UNDER A CLOUD -IX. TWO GIRLS -X. THE _DEUS EX MACHINA_ -XI. THE SEAMY SIDE -XII. A COUNTERPLOT -XIII. MRS. WALKER'S VISIT -XIV. THE FAMILY LAWYER -XV. A STARTLING LETTER -XVI. RECOGNITION -XVII. DISGRACE -XVIII. LADY CHARVINGTON'S ACCUSATIONS -XIX. MR. HALE EXPLAINS -XX. JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS' MEETING -XXI. TWO INTERVIEWS -XXII. THE PLOT -XXIII. ONE PART OF THE TRUTH -XXIV. ANOTHER PART OF THE TRUTH -XXV. REVENGE -XXVI. THE END OF IT ALL - - - - - - -THE AMETHYST CROSS - - - - -CHAPTER I -THE BEGINNING OF A MYSTERY - - -THE blackbird knew. He had paired for the fifth time in as many years, -and esteemed himself wise in the matters, of love. Therefore, from the -budding chestnut wherein his nest was built, did he sympathetically -watch the bachelor and maid who sat below. They were lovers as he knew -very well, for only lovers could have gazed so persistently into one -another's eyes, and therein did they behold each other as each wished -to be. Which sentence is cryptic to those who are not lovers as these -were. - -They might have looked at the smoothly-flowing river, singing quietly -to itself not a stone-cast away, or round a tangled garden, delicately -beautiful with the young greenery of May, or up into the azure depths -of a sky, flecked with silvery clouds. But they preferred--wisely it -may be--to look into each other's eyes, to clasp hands and to remain -silent with that eloquent muteness, which is the speech of true love. -Oh! the blackbird knew the meaning of these things very thoroughly, -and chuckled with such glee that he finally broke into glorious song -concerning the new love, the true love, the old love, the bold love, -which comes evermore with the blossoms of spring. But these -inhabitants of Paradise did not require the bird to reveal the -obvious. Their hearts were also singing the song of the early year. - -"It can't last for ever," murmured the maid dreamily, "it is too -beautiful to last, since we are but mortal." - -"It shall last for ever; it must," corrected the bachelor, wise in -that wisdom of the gods, which comes to wooers, "for we love with our -souls, dearest, and these cannot die." - -She knew that he was right, for her heart told her so. Therefore did -they again look into one another's eyes and again become silent, while -the fluting blackbird explained more than mere human speech could -render. And he, perched on a swaying bough, was only too willing to -interpret. He knew: he was wise. And listening Nature heard -complacently. To such ends had she shaped her children; for such a -reason had she provided their Arcadia. - -As Arcadia, like Marlowe's hell, is not circumscribed, it chanced that -this especial one was by Thames-side, and those who dwelt therein were -up-to-date in looks and dress and manners. Only their feelings were -those of classic times, and as he told her the old, old story, which -is ever new, she listened with the instinctive knowledge that the tale -was wonderfully familiar. She had read it in his eyes, after the -manner of maids, long before he dared to speak. - -And this river Paradise was not wholly unworthy at so comely an Adam -and Eve, although limited in extent and untrimmed in looks. Lord -Beaconsfield declared that the most perfect garden is that cultivated -to excess by man and then handed over to the caprice of Nature. The -owner of this demesne apparently subscribed to this dictum, for the -garden, well-filled with expensive flowers and shrubs, had long since -relapsed into wildness. On either side of the narrow strip of land, -sloping gradually to the stream, extended low walls of mellow red -brick overgrown with dark-green ivy. The flowerbeds were luxuriant -with docks and nettles and charlock and divers weeds: the pathways -were untidy with lush grass, and the tiny lawn at the water's edge was -shaggy and untrimmed. A wooden landing-stage floated near shore at the -garden's foot, and to this was attached the young man's boat. At the -far end of this neglected domain could be seen a thatched cottage with -whitewashed walls and oblong lattices quaintly diamond-paned. So -rustic and pretty and old-world did it look that it might well have -been the fairy-dwelling of a nursery tale. And the lovers themselves -were young and handsome enough to deserve the care of the fairies. - -He was tall, slim, well-formed, and Saxon in his fairness. His curly -hair--so much of it as the barber's shears had spared--was golden in -the sunlight, as was his small moustache, and his eyes were bravely -blue, as a hero's should be. The white boating-flannels accentuated -the bronze of his skin, and revealed the easy strength of an athlete. -He looked what the girl took him to be--a splendid young lover of -romance. Yet he was but a City clerk of prosaic environment, and his -youth alone improved him into Don Juan o' Dreams. - -The girl resembled Hebe, maidenly, dainty, and infinitely charming; or -it might be Titania, since her appearance was almost too fragile for -the work-a-day world. With a milky skin; brown-haired and brown-eyed; -with a tempting mouth and a well-rounded chin, she looked worthy of -any man's wooing. She was sweet and twenty; he but five years older, -so both were ripe for love. And then the spring, joyous and fresh, had -much to do with the proposal just made. Her answer to his question had -been tunefully commented upon by the irrepressible blackbird, who -expressed no surprise when the echo of a kiss interrupted his song. - -"But my father will never agree, George," sighed the girl, after this -outward and visible sound of acceptance. - -"Dearest Lesbia"--he folded her manfully in his arms--"I don't -see why your father should object. I am not rich certainly, as a -stockbroker's clerk doesn't earn large wages. But for your dear sake -I shall work and work and work until I become a millionaire." - -Lesbia smiled at this large promise. "We may have to wait for years." - -"What does it matter so long as our hearts are true?" - -"They may grow sick with waiting," said Lesbia, sighing. Then she -proceeded to look on the practical side of their idyll, as the most -romantic of women will do at the most romantic of moments. "You earn -only two hundred a year, darling, and my father--so far as I know--can -give me nothing. He has his pension from Lord Charvington, and makes a -small income by his work in the City, but"--here came a depressing -pause. - -"What does Mr. Hale do in the City?" asked George abruptly. - -Lesbia opened her brown eyes. "I don't know, dear. He goes there two -or three times a week, and always seems to be busy. I have asked him -what his occupation is, but he only laughs, and declares that dry -business details would not interest me. I am sure no girl ever knew so -little of her father as I do. It's not fair." - -"Strange!" murmured the young man meditatively. "I never see Mr. Hale -in the City, and although I have asked several people, no one appears -to know the name. Of course, darling, the City is a big place, and -your father may do business in a quiet way. Still it is odd that no -one should know. I wish I did. I might help him." - -"In what way?" - -"Well, Lesbia, the wages I receive at Tait's office are small, -and--and--and"--here George flushed for no apparent reason--"and there -are other things to be considered. If I could only get something else -to do I should leave Tait's. Your father might be willing to let me -enter his office, you know, and then I could work up his business, -whatever it might be." - -The girl nodded. She was a matter-of-fact young woman. Since Hale's -income was limited she was compelled, as housekeeper, very often to -consider ways and means. "You might speak to my father." - -"And may I mention our engagement?" he supplemented. - -"No-o!" Lesbia looked doubtful. "I had better announce that. Father -has a temper, and if he grew angry, you might grow angry also." - -"Oh no." George was entirely in earnest when he said this. "I should -always remember that he was your father and that you love him." - -Lesbia again looked doubtful. "Do I love him?" she mused. - -"One is supposed to love one's father," suggested George. - -She stared at the river. "Yes! I suppose so. Honour your parents, and -so forth. I don't honour my father, though--his temper is too bad. I -am not quite sure if I love him." - -"Oh, my dear." George looked nervous. - -"Don't make any mistake, dear boy. I like my father, since we are good -friends, and usually he is kind--that is, when he is not in a rage. -But then, you see, sweetest," she sighed, "he is nearly always in a -rage about some trifle. Look at the garden," she waved her hand -vaguely, "I wanted to hire a gardener to make it look more -respectable, and father was furious. He declared that he did not want -people to come spying round the cottage. Spying! Such an odd word to -use." - -"Your father is an odd man," said George ruefully, "and he certainly -has not been over-hospitable to me. Perhaps he guesses that I have -come to steal his jewel, and one can't be hospitable to a robber." - -Lesbia pinched his chin. "You silly boy, my father doesn't think so -much of me as you do. I sometimes wonder," she went on sadly, "if he -loves me at all. I am very much alone." - -"He doesn't treat you badly?" demanded George with sudden heat. - -"No, dear, no. I shouldn't allow anyone to treat me badly, not even my -father. But I fancy he regards me as a necessary trouble, for -sometimes he looks at me in a disagreeable way as though he fancied I -was spying." - -"Why do you use so disagreeable a word?" asked the straightforward -clerk. - -"My father used it himself in the first instance," she rejoined -promptly; "perhaps because he doesn't want anyone else to meet the -queer people who come to see him,--generally after dark. Men who smell -of drink, who use slang and dress like grooms,--certainly not -gentlemen. Of course I never talk to them, for when they appear, my -father always sends me to my room. I'm sure," sighed the girl -dolefully, "that if it wasn't for old Tim, the servant, I should be -quite alone." - -George hugged her. "You shall never be alone again!" he whispered, and -Lesbia threw her arms round his neck with great contentment. - -"Oh, darling, you don't know how good that sounds to me. If it were -only true. You see, my father may object." - -"He can object until he is tired," cried the ardent lover. "If he does -not make you happy I must. And when he sees this----" - -"Oh!" Lesbia clasped her hand in delight at the sight of a cheap -turquoise ring, "how lovely!" - -George frowned at the mean gift. "It was all I could afford," said he. - -"It is all I want," she said, as he slipped it on her engagement -finger, "it's not the cost, or even the thing. It's what it means. -Love and joy to you and me, dearest boy." - -But George, having a generous heart, still lamented. "If I hadn't to -keep my mother," he said ruefully. "I would save up and give you -diamonds. But two hundred a year goes a very little way with my -mother, even when her own small income is added. You see, dear, she -never forgets that my father was the Honourable Aylmer Walker, and she -will insist upon having everything of the best. This is a beastly -cheap ring, but--but----" - -"But you denied yourself all manner of nice things to buy it for ME," -finished Lesbia, pressing a kiss on his willing cheek. - -"No, dear, no," he said valiantly, "only a few pipes of tobacco." - -"You dearest donkey," cooed the girl, more touched than she chose to -confess, "doesn't that show me how you love me. As to the ring," she -surveyed the cheap trinket critically, "it is exactly what I wanted. -The stones are the colour of your dear eyes." - -George, man-like, was delighted. "You know the colour of my eyes?" - -Lesbia boxed his ears delicately. "I knew the colour exactly one -minute after our very first meeting." - -"Did you love me then?" - -"No. Certainly not: how conceited you are." - -"Then why did you notice my----" - -"Oh, a woman always notices these things, when a man is nice." - -"And you thought me nice?" - -Lesbia fenced. "Good-looking, at all events. You wore a dark flannel -suit striped with pale green." - -"So I did," cried George, delighted, "it was at Mrs. Riordan's picnic -near Bisham Abbey a year ago. And you were there." - -Lesbia laughed and nursed her knees. "I must have been, since I can -describe you so exactly. What did I wear, dear?" - -"I don't know," said George promptly. - -"Oh!" she was quite disappointed, "and you call yourself a lover?" - -"I do," he rejoined stoutly, "for, as I fell in love with you the -moment we met, I saw only your eyes and your angel face. How could you -expect me to remember a mere dress when----" - -"Oh, what nonsense--very nice nonsense; still nonsense." - -"I like talking nonsense to you." - -"And I like to hear it from you. But it isn't bread and butter." - -"You're thinking of afternoon tea," said George Walker audaciously. - -"No. I'm thinking of how we are to live when we marry." - -The mere mention of that delicious word made George forget the warning -conveyed by the sentence. "Marry! Marry you! Oh, heaven!" - -"A pauper heaven, I fear," said Lesbia; then fished in her pocket, -"see, the only valuable thing I possess, besides your love. It is for -you." - -"Oh, my dear, it's not a man's ornament." - -"As if that matters, since I give it to you," she said, laughing. "I -must give you something, and this is all I have to give." - -She held out her hand, on the palm of which rested an amethyst cross -formed of four deeply purple stones, set lightly in gold filigree, -with a loop at the top for the necessary chain to pass through. Not a -very uncommon ornament at the first glance, George decided, although -very beautiful. But on looking more closely he became aware that there -was something bizarre about the thing. In the centre where the four -stones met was a tiny cube of malachite, graven with a golden crown -and inscribed with minute letters. The pansy-blossom hue of the stones -contrasting with the vivid green of the cube gave the ornament rather -an uncanny look. - -"What a queer thing," said George, transferring the cross to his broad -palm. - -"Yes! isn't it?" said Lesbia eagerly, and then brought out a -magnifying glass. "And the inscription is still queerer." - -George poised the powerful glass over the slab of malachite, and with -some difficulty deciphered the golden Gothic letters. "'Refuse and -Lose,'" he read slowly. "Now what does that mean?" - -"You stupid darling," cried Lesbia, pinching his ear, "can't you -see? If you refuse the cross--which is married life; you lose the -crown--which is me." - -Walker thrust the cross into his pocket, handed back the magnifying -glass and solemnly embraced the girl, "I'll take the cross and the -crown and you, and everything I can get," he whispered in her ear. "I -don't exactly see the meaning, of course, but----" - -"Was there ever such a dense man?" Lesbia demanded of the blackbird in -despair. "It's a religious symbol, of course. If you refuse to bear -life's cross in the way you should, you lose the crown which ought to -be yours in heaven." - -George took out the ornament again and looked at it seriously. He had -a considerable strain of the Puritan in his nature, to which the idea -appealed strongly. "I shall certainly not refuse life's cross," he -declared soberly, "and may we both some day wear a crown in a better -world." - -"My darling, my dearest, my best," she murmured, embracing him fondly. -The touch of seriousness in George's gay disposition enhanced his -value in her eyes. She approved of so sterling a character. - -"Where did you get the cross?" asked Walker, while the jewels winked -in the sunshine. "From your father?" - -"No!" she replied unexpectedly. "He doesn't know that I possess such a -thing. But my nurse, old Bridget Burke--Tim's mother, you know--who -died last summer, gave it to me on her death-bed and warned me not to -tell my father about it. She said that it came from my dead mother, -and was to be given by me to the man I loved. So you see, my darling, -that even though it is a woman's ornament, you must take it." - -"I'll wear it round my neck," declared George. "It will bring me good -luck, I am sure." - -"So Bridget said," observed the girl promptly. "She had the 'sight,' -you know, George, and declared that the cross would bring me luck and -money and love and position. I don't know how, unless it is by -marrying you." - -"Ah, my love," said George somewhat sadly. "I can only give you my -heart. Money and position must come later. But if we both obey the -inscription and bear the cross we shall win the crown of success in -the end. Look how the gems flash, Lesbia--an earnest of the future." - -While they were both admiring the cross, a tall, lean man, perfectly -dressed in a Bond Street kit, came softly down the grassy path. He -looked like a gentleman, and also like a hawk, and his pale eyes -wandered from one bent head to the other until they dropped to the -flash of the jewelled cross, which glittered on Walker's palm. Then -the newcomer started nervously, and took a step nearer to observe. -Lesbia and her lover looked up as the shadow of the man fell across -them, and in the movement they made, the cross fell on the grass. - -"Oh, father, how you startled us," cried the girl, springing to her -feet. - -Mr. Walter Hale did not reply. His eyes were still on the purple -stones of the cross, and when his daughter stooped to pick it up, he -twitched his fingers as though anxious to take it from her. "Where did -you get that?" he demanded abruptly and harshly. - -"Bridget gave it to me, and I have given it to George," she said, -handing the ornament to her lover. "It belonged to my mother." - -"It did," said Hale sharply, "and therefore must not pass out of the -family." - -"It won't," said Lesbia cheerfully; "George is to be my husband." - -Mr. Hale frowned. "You have yet to gain my permission," he said in dry -tones. "Meanwhile, Mr. Walker, give me back the cross." - -"No!" said George, who did not like the tone of his future -father-in-law and could be obstinate when necessary. "Lesbia gave it -to me, and I intend to keep it." - -"Lesbia had no right to give it to you," cried Hale, his voice rising, -and he extended his hand to take his desire. But Walker was too quick -for him and dexterously swerving, shot the cross into his pocket. - -"It is Lesbia's first present to me," said he, excusing his obstinacy. - -"She has no right to make you presents," foamed the other, who had now -entirely lost his temper. - -"She has the right of a lover," retorted George coolly. - -"There can be no question of love between you and my daughter." - -The girl moved to her lover's side, very pale and very defiant. "That -is for me to decide," she said coldly, but with determination. - -"You go against your father, Lesbia?" - -"For the first time in my life. And why not, when the matter is so -important?" - -Hale bit his lips and tried to stare her down: but as her eyes did not -drop before his own he was the first to give way, and did so with -inward rage. With an impatient shrug he wheeled to face young Walker. -The two presented the striking contrast of untainted youth and -artificial age too much versed in the evils of life. And youth had the -advantage, for--as in the case of Lesbia--the older man tried to -dominate without success. He was forced to take refuge in idle -threats. - -"If you do not give me back that cross, it will be the worse for you," -remarked Hale, very distinctly and with menace. - -George clenched his fists, then, with a glance towards Lesbia, ended -the argument by stepping into his boat. As he rowed off, Hale, who had -not attempted to stop him, turned bitterly to his daughter. - -"You have ruined me," he said between his teeth, and returned hastily -to the cottage. - - - - -CHAPTER II -THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS - - -To say that Lesbia was amazed conveys imperfectly her state of mind. -The sudden arrival of her father, the hasty departure of her lover, -the mysterious incident connected with the amethyst cross, and the -still more mysterious remark which Mr. Hale had made--these things -perplexed and, very naturally, alarmed her. At once, with the -swiftness of an imaginative brain, she conjured up visions of disgrace -and shame and criminal publicity, going too far in her surmises, after -the fashion of such a brain. For after all, as a calmer reflection -suggested, there was nothing in what had taken place that should -induce such happenings, although there were several disquieting hints. - -For a few moments the girl remained where she was, too agitated to -move; but when Hale disappeared into the cottage, and George's boat -vanished round a bend of the shining river, she woke to the fact that -for her own peace of mind it was necessary to ask questions. At once -she ran up the grass-grown path, and speedily found herself in the -narrow passage, which led right through the house from back to front. -But she only entered to hear the street door bang, and flew to open it -again in the hope of catching Mr. Hale before he could go far away. -But the man must have made good use of his legs, for when she peered -out into the quiet side street she noticed that it was empty. This -vanishing of her father without an explanation dismayed her more than -ever, and in the hope of gaining some sort of information she sought -Tim in the tiny kitchen, calling on him loudly. A soft voice like a -well-tuned lute answered her from the scullery. - -"Ah, Miss Lesbia, and what wud ye be after spoilin' yer pretty voice -for now? Don't ye, me darlin', don't ye!" - -"Why has my father gone out, Tim?" asked Lesbia sharply. - -An odd little man emerged from the scullery and stood coolly rubbing -his nose-tip with the toe of the boot he was polishing. "An' how -should I know, miss? Didn't he come tearing through the passage, as if -the divil wor after him, an' lape like a trout int' the street? Sure -ye must have seen the masther rampagin' yersilf." - -"I know that father came and found me with George and----" - -"Ah, thin, 'tis Garge, is it?" muttered Tim, beginning to brush -mechanically. - -"And rushed away in a temper because George would not give him my -amethyst cross." - -Crash went the boot on the floor, and the blacking-brush followed, -while Tim stared out of his melancholy grey eyes as though he saw a -ghost. Decidedly the ornament was causing a considerable sensation, -although Lesbia could not understand why her father should rage, any -more than why Tim should stare. "Like a stuck pig," as she said, -inelegantly. And the annoying thing was that he did more than stare. - -"Oh, blissid saints in glory!" groaned the Irishman, crossing himself. - -"What on earth do you mean?" asked the girl, tartly, for she was -beginning to weary of these mysteries. - -"Oh, blissid saints in glory!" Tim moaned again, and, picking up the -boot and the brush with the expression of a martyr, went into the -scullery to peel potatoes. - -Lesbia, who was a determined young woman, followed, quite bent upon -getting at the root of the disturbance. - -"Come and talk, Tim." - -"Sure an' I must git the dinner ready anyhow, Miss." - -"Come out, or I'll come in," cried Lesbia, standing at the door. - -"Sure ye wudn't dirthy th' clothes av ye," coaxed Tim, and very -unwillingly scrambled back into the cleaner, drier kitchen with the -tin basin of potatoes in his huge fist. - -He was certainly an ugly, under-sized man, and looked like the wicked -dwarf of a fairy tale. But the similarity was all on the surface, for -Tim Burke was as good and devoted a little Paddy as ever dipped his -fingers into holy water. But his appearance was not prepossessing, for -he was broader than he was long, and on a pair of hunched shoulders -was set askew a gigantic head much too large for his squat body. His -short legs were crooked, and he usually walked in a crab-like fashion -in unexpected directions--that is, whither his brain did not direct -his legs to go. He was barely five feet high, and his shaggy beard was -as red as the untidy hair covering his poll. He was quite a -monstrosity. - -Nevertheless, Tim had his good points, for Nature had given him -beautiful grey eyes, pathetic as those of a dog, and a sweet -sympathetic voice, which sounded like a mellow bell. To hear Tim sing -Irish ditties of the heart-breaking sort was a treat not to be met -with every day, but he rarely sang them, save to Lesbia, whom he -adored. And small wonder, for she alone was kind to the odd, uncouth, -little man. Mr. Hale, whose selfishness was phenomenal, treated Tim -like a white slave and, indeed, he might be called one, seeing that he -worked like a horse and received no wages. Yet he was an admirable -housekeeper and a magnificent cook. With such qualifications he could -have procured a well-paid situation. Yet, for Lesbia's sake, he -remained at Rose Cottage, watching her like a cat a mouse, but with -more amiable intentions. She was the legacy which his mother Bridget, -the girl's nurse, had left him on her death-bed, when she died some -twelve months before. - -Lesbia, looking like a fairy princess attended by her dwarf, perched -herself on the kitchen table with a severe face. To lose no time while -being questioned, Tim set to work peeling the potatoes, for Mr. Hale -growled like a bear when his meals were not placed punctually on the -table. As he peeled each potato, he dropped it with a splash into a -bucket of clean water and rarely raised his sad eyes to the face of -his young mistress during the conversation which ensued. Also--and -this Lesbia noticed--he conversed very reluctantly, and every -admission was wrung from unwilling lips. - -"Tim," said his mistress severely, and beginning at the beginning, -"you are the only son of my nurse, Bridget Burke." - -"I am that, Miss, her only boy, Miss, and a good mother she was to -me." - -"A good nurse also, Tim. She loved me." - -"An' who wudn't, ye pretty creature? Ain't I devoted to ye likewise, -me darlin'? Answer me that now?" - -"I shall do so," said Miss Hale significantly, "when our conversation -comes to an end." - -Tim groaned and winced. "Bad luck to the crass," he breathed, "an' may -the Vargin forgive me for sayin that same." - -"Why, bad luck to the cross?" demanded Lesbia, coming to the point. - -"An' how shud I know, me dear?" - -"But you do know," she insisted. "Tim, your mother gave me that -cross." - -"Did she now?--the owd fool." - -"How dare you, Tim, and Bridget dead? She was your mother." - -"Deed an' well she might be, Miss, for an uglier owd woman nivir could -be found in County Clare, forby she left it for this blissid country -whin I wor a gossoon." - -"Did my father bring her over from Ireland, Tim?" - -"Not he," Tim shook his Judas-coloured head. "Divil an eye did the -pair av us clap on the gintleman for many a long day. Wasn't I a -bare-futted brat runnin' wild about Whitechapel till my father--rest -his sowl--wos tuck by the police for shop-liftin'--bad luck to thim? -An' he died in gaol, poor man--ah, that he did, laving me mother an' -me widout bread in the mouths av us." - -"What did Bridget do then, Tim?" - -"Sure she come to Wimbleton or a place hard by," admitted Tim -reluctantly, "sellin' apples an' nuts, an' a mighty bad thing she made -by the sale." - -"I want to know exactly how she came to be my nurse?" said Lesbia. - -Tim bent over the potatoes deeply interested in the peeling. "Why, -Miss, your father--" here he swallowed something--"the masther, Miss, -and a kind, good gintleman, tuck pity on her and give her the -situation as your nurse, me dear." - -"But my mother?" - -"Oh, howly saints, an' how cud she say anything whin she wos dyin' an' -you but a year old? But my mother nursed you like her own choild, -Miss, till ye went to that school at Hampstead. But ye came back here -just whin she was dyin', poor sowl." - -"I did, a year ago," said Lesbia significantly, "and in time to -receive the cross, Tim." - -"May the father av lies fly away wid it!" groaned the dwarf. "An' may -the saints forgive me for the wicked wish." - -"Whatever do you mean, Tim?" - -"Mane, ah, nivir ask me what I mane. But the crass isn't with ye now, -an' ye'll be the betther widout it." - -"Oh!" Lesbia slipped off the table with a heightened colour, "does -that mean it is unlucky? I gave it to George, you see, and----" - -"Ah, divil doubt but what you'd give the head av ye to Garge," -grumbled Tim, taking up the tin of peeled potatoes. "Ah, well, 'tis -betther he shud have it nor you, me dear." - -"But why, but why?" asked Lesbia, frantic with curiosity. - -"Ah, nivir ask me, Miss," replied Tim enigmatically, and departed to -continue his culinary work; also--as she could see--to avoid further -questioning. - -Failing Tim, the girl resolved to learn what her father would say, -when at dinner. This was a meal which Mr. Hale never missed, as he was -devoted to the pleasures of the table and appreciated Tim's excellent -cooking. He always arrayed himself in purple and fine linen to do -justice to the viands set before him, and it was the rule of the -cottage that Lesbia should also dress appropriately. Her father prided -himself upon being ultra-civilised, and would have eaten a red herring -with sartorial ceremony. The table was admirably laid with crystal and -silver and valuable china, and--decorated with flowers in graceful -vases--looked extremely pretty. Tim, in a livery of his master's -devising, acted as butler, and the wines were as good as the food, -which is saying a lot. Mr. Hale might live in a humble cottage and -might mix with queer people, but he was a sybarite, who enjoyed the -good things of this life artistically prepared. The room was -beautifully furnished, and Lesbia was more beautiful than the room. -Therefore, on this especial night, Mr. Walter Hale had both his palate -and his eye gratified. His ear was not ministered to quite so -pleasantly, as, after dinner, and when Tim had left the room to -prepare the coffee, he renewed the subject of the cross with his -daughter. - -"Lesbia," said he, fixing his eyes on her somewhat flushed face, and -looking extremely high-bred, "why did you give away that cross?" - -"Bridget, who presented it to me on her death-bed, said that I was to -bestow it on the man I meant to marry. I have done so." - -This was a very defiant speech, and Hale frowned. "I shall not allow -you to marry young Walker," he said distinctly. - -Lesbia shrugged her shoulders with indifference. This was not the way -to manage her. "I am sorry, father, as I have decided to become his -wife." - -"He has no money, you silly girl. I know for a fact that he is paid -only a small salary by Michael Tait, who is a screw and a skinflint -where his own pleasures are not concerned. Moreover, Walker has to -support his widowed mother, and she is not likely to welcome a -daughter-in-law who will curtail her comforts, such as they are. A -hard woman, Lesbia, a very hard woman, my dear. I ought to know, as we -have been acquainted for years." - -The prospect did not seem alluring, but love sustained the girl. -"George might get a better situation," she ventured to remark, a -trifle anxiously. "Why," she added, this as though the thought had -just struck her, "he might help you, father." - -Hale spilt the port wine he was pouring into his glass. "What's that?" - -"You need not speak crossly, father," replied Lesbia, puzzled by the -sharpness of his tone. "I merely suggested that George might enter -your office, and then he----" - -The man rose suddenly and began to pace the room with the glass -of wine in his hand. But the look he cast upon his daring child -was so grim that the unfinished sentence died on her lips. -"'George--might--enter--your--office!'" he repeated slowly, and ended -with a cynical laugh. "Humph! I wonder now----" he laughed again and -checked his speech. Then he finished his glass of wine and returned to -the table. "When does Walker come to see you again?" he asked -abruptly. - -"To-morrow night at six o'clock," said Lesbia, promptly. "He rows down -the river from Medmenham, or walks along the towing-path, every -evening." - -"A devoted lover truly," said Hale drily, "and how long has this -pretty wooing been going on?" - -"For a few months," said Lesbia, rather alarmed by the stern -expression of her father's face. "Don't be angry. After all, it was -you who introduced me to George." - -"The more fool I, seeing his age and looks and poverty. Lesbia!" he -placed his knuckles on the table and leaned across it. "You must marry -my friend, Captain Sargent." - -"Ex-Captain Sargent," cried Lesbia scornfully, and rising -unexpectedly. "I shall do nothing of the sort. I don't even like him." - -"Pooh! Pooh! Pooh! He is a gentleman----" - -"So is George." - -Hale rapped the table sharply. "Do not interrupt, you minx. Sargent -has retired from the army, it is true. But he has a good income and a -pretty bungalow at Cookham. We were in the same regiment until I left -the service some fifteen years ago; so I know him well. He will make -an excellent husband--a very excellent husband indeed." - -"But, father, he is nearly as old as you are." - -"What of that? Sargent is a handsome man and looks young." - -Lesbia bit her lip, and tapped her foot on the ground. "I shan't marry -him." - -Hale scowled. "You shall. I am your father and you shall do as you are -told, my dear. And if you don't marry Sargent you shall certainly not -marry Walker, unless----" he stopped suddenly. - -"Unless what?" - -"Unless you get that cross back from him," stormed Hale angrily. - -Lesbia was nothing if not direct, and the mystery of the cross piqued -her exceedingly. She ventured on a leading question. "Why do you want -that cross so much, father?" - -"It belonged to your poor mother," said Mr. Hale sentimentally, "and -means more to me than you can ever guess. I missed it from your -mother's jewel-case when she died; but I never expected that Bridget -Burke, who was supposed to be the soul of honesty, had stolen it." - -"No! no. I don't believe Bridget would have stolen anything." - -"Bridget would have done anything that suited her," retorted Hale -grimly, "and if she came by the cross honestly--say by your mother -giving it to her--why did she not let you show it to me?" - -"I can't guess: perhaps she thought you would take it from me." - -"I might and I might not," replied Hale hesitatingly, "but at all -events I should not have allowed you to give it to young Walker. You -must ask him to return it at once." - -"I shall not," said Lesbia determinedly. - -"You shall," cried Hale, and their eyes met like those of two duelists -crossing swords. But the father's eyes fell first. "You dare to defy -me." - -"Not exactly, but----" - -"I want no explanations, thank you; but I'll make a bargain with you. -If Walker returns that cross he can have you as his wife. If not, I -shall refuse to allow him to haunt the cottage or pay attentions to -you. And remember, Lesbia, that I hold the purse-strings." - -"George can keep me," panted Lesbia, her colour rising. - -"George has to keep his mother. Marry him without a dowry and see what -the Honourable Mrs. Aylmer Walker will say." - -"You cannot give me a fortune, father." - -"I can give you two thousand a year if you are obedient," said her -father coolly, and walked towards the door. "Think it over, Lesbia," -and he left her to meditate on the astounding news. - -Lesbia was naturally astonished, since she never dreamed that her -father was so wealthy. Everything in the cottage was good of its kind, -and even luxurious, and the living was excellent. But at times Hale -appeared to lack ready money, and frequently impressed upon Tim that -it was necessary to be economical. Why then should he act in this way -when he appeared to be rich, and why should he offer so large an -income on condition that the cross was returned? So far as Lesbia -understood her father's hard nature, he was not a man to pay -generously for a merely sentimental idea. - -However, the fact remained that if she could get the amethyst cross -returned, she could marry George and bring him a substantial dowry. -After much reflection, she determined to ask George for the ornament. -After all, she could easily give him something else, and it was worth -satisfying her father when so much was at stake. - -For half a moment Lesbia thought that she would put on her cloak and -hat, and walk along the towing-path to Medmenham in the hope of -meeting her lover. It was now half-past eight, as dinner had taken -place at seven. - -Mr. Hale had gone out, and Tim, as was his custom on fine evenings, -was paddling about in a boat on the river, sometimes rowing and -sometimes fishing. She was alone and the solitude was becoming -irksome. A great wave of desire for love and sympathy came over the -girl, and she longed to see George Walker immediately, not only to -tell him of her father's offer, but to be petted and kissed and -comforted. But a few minutes' reflection showed her that it was not -advisable that she should walk alone to Medmenham, especially as the -chances were that she might not meet her lover. It was true that he -would certainly be at home, but Lesbia did not know Mrs. Walker and, -from the description given by her father, hesitated to meet that -formidable lady. On the whole, then, she decided, it was better to -wait until George came as usual on the ensuing evening. - -Being alone, it was difficult to find entertainment. Lesbia played the -piano for a few minutes: then she read and afterwards enjoyed a game -or two of Patience. Finally, feeling bored in the lonely house, she -retired to bed about ten o'clock. There she speedily fell asleep, and -dreamed that all obstacles were removed, and she was George Walker's -wife. When she put out her light, neither Mr. Hale nor Tim had -returned. - -Lesbia's sleep lasted for some considerable time. Then she suddenly -sat up with her senses keenly alive to every sensation. It seemed to -her that George had called her, and that she had awakened in answer to -his cry. And it was a cry for help, too! With a sensation of alarm, -she sprang from her bed, and opened the lattice to look down the -garden and across the river. There it flowed silvery in the calm -moonlight: but she heard no cry and saw nothing. Yet the call for -help had been very distinct. Lesbia was not superstitious, and had it -been broad daylight she would have laughed, at such midnight fancies. -But in the mysterious moonlight--alone in the house so far as she -knew--and at the hour of twelve o'clock, her heart beat rapidly, and a -cold perspiration broke out on her forehead. George was in danger: she -was sure of that. And George had called to her in a dream. What was -she to do? In which direction was she to look? - -The first idea that came into her head was to see Tim, and explain. He -would not laugh at her fancies, as he had many of his own. Lesbia -threw on her dressing-gown, slipped her feet into shoes, and went down -the narrow staircase, taking a lighted candle with her. In the hall -all was quiet, and she paused here for a single moment, wondering if -it was worth while to awaken Tim with such a fantastical story of -midnight terrors. Just as she was deciding that it would be wiser to -return to bed, she heard a groan, and in her fright nearly dropped the -candle. But being a brave girl, she plucked up courage and listened. -There came a second groan--from the parlour. Lesbia immediately opened -the door and entered. There on the floor she saw a man bound and -gagged and stiff, with nothing alive about him but his eyes. And those -were the eyes of George Walker. - - - - -CHAPTER III -ANOTHER MYSTERY - - -Lesbia Hale was small, fragile and, in a degree, romantic; but in -sufficiently strange contrast, her frame was strong and her nature -practical. An ordinary girl would have screamed and fainted, or -perhaps would have run away. Lesbia did none of these things. She -turned pale, it is true, and she trembled violently as she stared with -dilated eyes at the bound form of her lover. Then it came upon her -with a rush that immediate aid was required, and without even calling -for Tim, she set down her candlestick on a convenient chair, and knelt -beside the unfortunate young man. He was certainly in a very bad way; -but how he came to be in such a plight, Lesbia, with characteristic -commonsense, did not wait to inquire. The first thing was to loosen -him, and revive him with wine: then she could ask questions. The -answers promised to be interesting. - -First she dexterously removed the handkerchief from across his mouth, -with which George had been gagged in a clumsy manner. This she threw -aside with a passing thought that later she would learn to whom it -belonged, and then proceeded to unloosen the knot of the rope with -which her lover was bound. There was only one rope and only one knot, -and when she had disentangled the somewhat complicated fastening, she -unwound the cord which curled round him from his broad shoulders to -his ankles. With his arms glued to his sides and his feet pressed -closely together, George Walker had been tied up with yards of -brand-new manila rope, so that he could not move, and was trussed as -stiffly as any fowl prepared for the market. And the person or persons -who had bound him thus, to make assurance doubly sure, had struck him -a heavy blow on the back of his head. Lesbia discovered this by the -half-dry blood which clotted his curly hair. - -"What does it all mean?" asked Lesbia, when George was free from his -bonds, and lying almost as stiffly without them as he had when bound. -But the young man did not reply, for the very good reason that he had -fainted. At once Lesbia kissed him, and then went to the parlour door -to summon Tim. - -She called loudly, quite heedless of the fact that she might waken her -father, who did not approve of young Walker. And even if he did not, -it was necessary that he should come to aid the unfortunate man. So -while the French clock on the mantelpiece struck a silvery twelve, -Lesbia shouted at the full pitch of her healthy young lungs. In a few -minutes the alarmed voice of Tim was heard, and by the time she was -again kneeling beside George, the dwarf shuffled hurriedly into the -dimly-lighted room, half-dressed, a candle in one hand and the kitchen -poker in the other. - -"The saints be betwixt us and harm, Miss Lesbia," cried Tim, who -looked scared out of his senses, "what's come to you?" - -"What's come to George, you mean," said Lesbia, looking up. "See, Tim, -I heard him call me and came downstairs a few minutes ago to find him -bound and wounded. Don't stand there shaking, and don't chatter. Get -the brandy and heat some water. He has fainted, and we must bring him -to his senses." - -"But how the divil did Masther Garge come here?" demanded Tim, aghast. - -"How should I know?" retorted Lesbia impatiently. "We can ask him when -he is able to speak. Go and do what I tell you while I waken my -father." - -"Sure the masther isn't in, Miss," expostulated Tim, backing towards -the door. "He wint out afther dinner to spind the night wid Captain -Sargent at Cookham. An' that we shud have the bad luck av this, while -he's away. Oh, Miss Lesbia, wasn't it burglars I was thinking av? But -nivir murder, save the mark, an' sudden death at that." - -"It will be sudden death if you don't get that brandy. Stop!" Lesbia -started to her feet. "I'll get it myself. Go and heat the water to -bathe his wound." - -She ran into the dining-room and procured the spirit, while Tim went -to stoke up the kitchen fire. Lesbia forced George's teeth apart and -poured the brandy wholesale down his throat. The ardent liquor revived -him, and he opened his eyes with a faint sigh. "Don't speak, darling," -she whispered, with a second kiss, and then set to work chafing his -limbs. By the time Tim appeared with a jug of boiling water, the young -man had quite recovered his senses, and attempted to explain. - -"No," said Lesbia sharply, "you are too weak as yet. Bring a basin, -Tim, and a sponge. We must bathe his head." - -Considering she had no practice Lesbia performed her Good Samaritan -task very dexterously and, having sponged the wound--a nasty, jagged -blow from some blunt instrument,--bound up her lover's head with that -cleverness and tenderness which come from love. When he had quite -recovered--save for a trifling weakness--she made him lie down on the -sofa, and fed him with weak brandy and water. Tim meanwhile lighted -the lamp, and exhausted himself in guessing the reason for the -condition of young Walker. "It's that blissed crass," moaned Tim, -moving round like an unquiet ghost, "bad luck to the same! Didn't I -say it wud bring throuble?" - -"You did, Tim, you did," assented Lesbia, who was seated by the now -recovered man, and looking somewhat weary after her exertions, "but as -George is comparatively well, he can explain." - -"The cross is quite safe," said Walker faintly. "I left it at home. -Oh, my head, how it aches. No wonder, when such a heavy blow was -struck." - -"Who struck it, dear?" inquired Lesbia. - -"I don't know," George's voice was weary. "It's a long story." - -"Drink some more of this," said Lesbia, holding the glass to his pale -lips, "and wait until you feel stronger." - -"Oh, I'm much better now," he replied, pushing the brandy and water -away, "but I shan't be able to go to the office to-morrow morning." - -"Beg-ad, it's to-morrow morning already!" said Tim, glancing at the -clock. "Half-past twilve as I'm a sinner, an' here's Miss Lesbia an' -mesilf sittin' up like the quality. Oh, the sowl av me, what will the -masther say?" - -"What can he say?" demanded Miss Hale tartly. "Father can't hold you -and me accountable for the unexpected." - -"Unexpected, indeed," breathed George. "Who would have thought that I -would have been struck down on the towing-path. I can't guess the -reason, Lesbia, it's beyond me." - -"The crass! the crass!" muttered Tim, shaking his shaggy head. - -"What do you know about it?" demanded Lesbia. - -"Divil a thing, but that it brings bad luck," answered Tim sturdily. - -"It is not altogether bad luck that George has been brought here for -me to attend to him," she retorted. - -"No, dear," Walker patted her hand, "this accident shows me what an -angel you are. But how did I come here?" - -"Don't you know who brought you?" - -"I know nothing from the time I was struck down on the towing-path -near Medmenham, until the moment I saw you standing in yonder doorway -with a candle in your hand." - -Lesbia knitted her pretty brows. "I can't understand. Some enemy----" - -"I have no enemies," murmured George positively. - -"Then it's a mystery," declared the girl, still more perplexed. "Tell -me exactly what took place." - -Walker passed his hand wearily across his forehead, for his head ached -considerably. "After leaving you with your father, darling, I rowed -back to Medmenham, and went home to the cottage. My mother was not -within, as she had gone up to town early in the day and did not intend -to return until to-morrow----" - -"That's to-day, begob!" interpolated Tim, again looking at the clock. - -"Then it is to-day she returns," said Walker, in a stronger voice, -"about three in the afternoon. But to continue, Lesbia, I had my -dinner and smoked a pipe. Then I grew restless, wondering if you were -having a bad time with your father on my account. I thought he would -make things unpleasant for you, and determined to come down and see -what had happened. That was about ten o'clock." - -Lesbia patted his hand. "You need not have troubled, dear. My father -and I got on very well together." - -"I did not know that, and so was anxious. I ferried over the river to -the towing-path, and walked down towards Marlow, intending to cross -the bridge and come here." - -"I was in bed at ten." - -"So soon. I thought you might be sitting up." - -"Well, I did not expect you, dear," explained the girl. "As Tim was -out on the river, and my father had gone away, I found it dull. I went -to bed because I could think of nothing else to do. Then I fancied I -heard you calling for help, and came down to find you gagged and -bound." - -"I did not call for help because I was gagged," said George, "and -almost insensible. I expect you were dreaming." - -"A very serviceable dream," said Lesbia drily. "Go on, George, -darling." - -"About half way between Medmenham and Marlow, while I was walking -along in the moonlight, I heard a soft step behind me, and turned to -see a man almost on top of me. I had not even time to see what he was -like, so quickly did he attack me. Aiming a blow at my head with a -bludgeon, he struck me hard, and I fell insensible on the path." - -"And then?" - -"Then I woke to find you looking at me in this room. That's all." - -Lesbia examined her lover searchingly. He wore white flannel trousers, -a silk shirt, a white flannel coat, and brown shoes. His panama hat -was missing. - -Then Lesbia uttered an exclamation, and pointed to his pockets. All -these, both in coat and trousers, were turned inside out, and the -buttons of his shirt were undone, as though he had been searched to -the skin. "It's robbery," said Lesbia firmly. - -"Robbery! Impossible! Why should anyone rob a pauper like me? I have -nothing." - -"You have the crass!" murmured Tim, who was squatting on the floor, -and who looked like a goblin. - -"Tim." It was Lesbia who spoke. "Do you think that Mr. Walker was -attacked to get the amethyst cross?" - -"Faith, an' I can't say, Miss. But me mother--rest her sowl--towld me -that the crass brought bad luck, and it's come to Masther Garge here. -Maybe it's only talk, but there you are," and he pointed to the young -man. - -Walker reflected for a moment or so, while Lesbia turned over Tim's -explanation in her mind. "I daresay he is right," said George -pensively, "and you also, Lesbia. I was rendered insensible so that I -might be robbed, as is proved by my pockets being turned inside out. -As the only article of value I possessed was the cross, and I only -acquired that yesterday evening, I expect it was the cross this man -was after. If so, he must be very much disappointed, for I left your -gift in the drawer of my dressing-table, before I came to see you at -ten o'clock." - -"What was the man like?" - -"I told you that I only caught a glimpse of him," said Walker -fretfully, for the conversation wearied him. "He seemed to be a tall -man, and was roughly dressed. His soft hat was pulled over his eyes, -and--and I know, nothing more about him." - -Seeing that he was still weak, Lesbia stood up. "You can lie here on -the sofa and go to sleep," she said softly. "To-morrow morning we can -talk." - -"But I have to get to London by the eight o'clock train--the office!" - -"Bother the office!" said Lesbia inelegantly. "You are not fit to go -to the office. Try to sleep. Tim, give me that rug you brought. There, -dear," she tucked him in. "I have left a glass of water beside you. -Tim can come in every now and then to see how you are." - -"Augh," groaned Tim, yawning, "it's just as well, Miss. I cudn't slape -forty winks, wid blue murther about. But the masther will come back -after breakfast, an' what will we say at all, at all?" - -"Say," snapped Lesbia, who was at the door, looking extremely weary. -"Tell the truth, of course. My father will quite approve of what we -have done. George, don't talk to Tim, who is a chatterbox, but go to -sleep. You need all you can get, poor boy." - -George, already nearly asleep, murmured an incoherent reply and, -leaving Tim to watch over him, Lesbia returned to her room, but not to -sleep for at least an hour. Lying on her bed, she tried to fathom the -mystery of this assault upon her unoffending lover. Apparently the -cross had to do with the matter, as George had never been attacked -before. And then in a flash the girl remembered that her father was -desirous of regaining the ornament, and apparently, from the way in -which he had talked, was prepared to go to great lengths to get it. -Could it be that he had struck down her lover? He had been absent all -the evening, and would be absent all the night, at Sargent's Cookham -cottage, according to the message he had left with Tim. He did not -like Walker, and moreover was tall, as the assailant had been. It -really seemed as though Mr. Walter Hale had taken the law into his own -hands and, to get back his property, as he averred the cross to be, -had committed something uncommonly like highway robbery. Lesbia -worried over the problem half the night, as she could not believe that -her father would act so basely. Finally, towards dawn she fell into an -uneasy sleep. - -It was ten o'clock when she woke, and at once her thoughts reverted -to the late exciting event. No such sensational happening had ever -before disturbed the quietness of the riverside cottage, and the -mystery which environed it was an added fascination. As Lesbia slowly -dressed--and in her prettiest frock for the sake of George,--she again -wondered if her father was connected with the assault and the -attempted robbery. - -George could only have been attacked for the sake of the amethyst -cross, and her father alone--so far as she knew--desired that cross. -Yet if Mr. Hale was guilty, why had he brought his victim into his own -house? No one else could have brought George, for no one else could -have entered. Lesbia had no great love for her father, since he -invariably repelled all her proffers of affection; but she now felt -that she could actively hate him for his wickedness in so dealing with -the man she loved. And yet, as she reflected when she descended the -stairs, she could not be sure that her father was guilty, even in the -face of such evidence. - -When Lesbia entered the dining-room she found George quite his old -self. The night's rest had done him good, and a cold bath had -refreshed him greatly. With Tim's willing assistance he had made -himself presentable and, save for a linen bandage round his head, -looked much the same as he had done on the previous day. He came -forward swiftly with sparkling eyes, and took Lesbia in his arms, -murmuring soft and foolish words, after the way of lovers, even less -romantic. - -"Darling! Darling! Darling! How good you have been to me." - -"I could have done no less for anyone," replied Lesbia, leading him to -a chair. "Sit down, dearest, you are still weak." - -"On the contrary I am quite strong, although my head still aches a -trifle from that cowardly blow. Besides, I am hungry, and there is Tim -bringing in a magnificent breakfast. Sweetest and best," he went on, -leading her to the well-spread table, "this is just as if we were -married. You at the top of the table and I at the bottom. Give me a -cup of coffee, Lesbia, and I'll serve out the eggs and ham. Tim, you -needn't wait." - -Tim grumbled a trifle, as he loved to wait on Lesbia, But he was an -Irishman and appreciated a love affair. It did not need much -cleverness to see that young Walker wished to be alone with his -beloved, if only to enjoy the unique situation. Tim therefore departed -and the couple had their breakfast in heavenly solitude. Lesbia wished -to talk about the adventure on the towing-path, and to ask questions, -but George positively refused to speak of anything save the most -frivolous matters. - -"Your father will return soon," he explained, passing his cup for more -coffee, "and then I shall have to tell my story all over again. Let us -talk about ourselves and of our future." - -Lesbia, after a faint resistance, was only too pleased to obey, so -they had an extremely pleasant meal. The room was cheerful with the -summer sun, which poured in floods of light and warmth through the -windows, and the feeling of spring was still in the air. Most -prosaically they enjoyed their food and unromantically ate a large -breakfast, but all the time they kept looking at one another and -relishing the novel situation. It was brought to an end only too -speedily by the sudden entrance of Mr. Hale. Tall, lean, cold and -stern, he appeared on the threshold, and stared in surprise at the way -in which young Walker was taking possession, not only of his house but -of his daughter. - -"What the devil does this mean?" asked Hale, politely indignant. - -"Look at George's head," cried Lesbia with a shiver, for her doubts -returned fortyfold at the sight of her aristocratic father. - -"That explains nothing," said Hale drily, "perhaps, Mr. Walker, you -will undertake to tell me how it comes that I find you making yourself -at home in my poor abode?" - -George, who was perfectly cool and collected, told his story. Hale -listened, much more discomposed than he chose to appear, and at the -conclusion of the narrative asked one question, which showed where his -thoughts were. - -"The cross," he said eagerly, "have you been robbed of the cross?" - -"No," answered Walker positively, "although I believe that I was -attacked for the sake of it. But luckily I left it in the drawer of my -dressing-table. Can you guess who attacked me?" - -"No," said Hale coolly, "I cannot." - -"Still, if you know about the cross----" - -"I only know that it belonged to my wife and that I want to get it -back as soon as possible. Lesbia should never have given it to you. As -to your being attacked so that you might be robbed of it, I can't -believe that story. The cross, as a jewel, is not so very valuable. -Besides, no one but myself and Lesbia and Tim knew that you had it. I -presume," ended Hale, in his most sarcastic manner, "that you do not -suspect any one of us three." - -"Oh no," rejoined Walker promptly, and spoke as he believed in spite -of the troubled look which Lesbia cast on him. "Still----" - -Hale threw up his hand to interrupt. "We can talk of your adventure -later, Mr. Walker. After all, the cross may have something to do with -the way in which you were assaulted, although--as I said--it appears -unlikely. I want to recover it immediately, and am the more eager, now -that I have heard of your adventure. Give me a note to your mother -saying that the cross is to be given to me, and I shall consent to -your marriage with Lesbia." - -George looked at the girl, who nodded. "Let my father have back the -cross, since he so greatly desires it," she said. "I can give you -something else, dear. I am willing to pay that price for my father's -consent." - -George shrugged his shoulders. "It is immaterial to me," he said -calmly, "so long as you are pleased, dear. I only wished to keep the -ornament as your first love-gift to me. Have you a pencil, Mr. Hale. -Thank you." - -He scribbled a note. "To Jenny, our maid-servant," he explained, when -handing it to the tall, silent man, "she will admit you into my -bedroom and you will find the cross in the right-hand drawer of my -dressing-table." - -"But your mother----" - -"My mother went to London yesterday and will not be back until three -o'clock to-day. If you like to wait I can go over with you later." - -"No," said Hale brusquely, "your mother might make objections. I know -how difficult she is to deal with. I'll go myself: you stay here with -Lesbia." - -George was nothing loth, and when Mr. Hale departed he walked with his -beloved in the garden. They should have talked of the adventure, and -Lesbia should have told George the thought that was uppermost in her -mind--namely, that her father was cognisant of the assault. But she -did not care to make such an accusation upon insufficient grounds, and -moreover hesitated to accuse her father of such a crime. She therefore -willingly agreed to postpone all talk of the adventure until Mr. -Hale's return, and surrendered herself to the pleasure of the moment. -The lovers spent a long morning in the garden of love, gathering the -rosebuds which Herrick recommends should be culled in youth. Time flew -by on golden wings, and Hale was no sooner gone all the way to -Medmenham, than he seemed to come back. He could not have been away -for more than five minutes, as it appeared to these two enthralled by -Love. For them time had no existence. - -But their dream of love fled, when Hale came swiftly down the path -looking both angry and alarmed, and, indeed, perplexed. "The cross has -gone," he said. - -"Impossible," cried George, starting to his feet, astonished. "I left -it----" - -"The cross has gone," repeated Hale decisively, "your cottage has been -robbed, burgled. I repeat, the cross has gone." - - - - -CHAPTER IV -A FAMILY HISTORY - - -After delivering his message of woe, Mr. Hale sat down on the garden -seat under the chestnut tree, and mechanically flicked the dust from -his neat brown shoes with a silk handkerchief. He was perfectly -arrayed as usual, and on account of the heat of the day wore a suit of -spotless drill, cool and clean-looking. But if his clothes were cool -he certainly was not, for his usually colourless face was flushed a -deep red and his eyes sparkled with anger. Lesbia, who had risen with -George, looked at him with compunction in her heart. After all--so her -thoughts ran--she had suspected her father wrongly. If he had attacked -George to regain this unlucky cross, he assuredly would not now be -lamenting its loss. And yet if he were innocent, who was guilty, -considering the few people who knew that the ornament was in -existence? Tim might--but it was impossible to suspect Tim Burke, who -was the soul of honesty. - -"Well," said Hale crossly, "what is to be done?" - -He looked directly at George, who faced him standing, with a look of -perplexity on his handsome face. "Are you sure that the house has been -robbed?" he asked doubtfully. - -Mr. Hale shrugged his shoulders. "I usually say what I mean," he -remarked acridly. "I took your note to Medmenham, and found the local -policeman conversing with your mother's servant. From her I learned -what had taken place, and, indeed, she was telling the constable when -I came up." - -"Well?" - -"It seems," pursued Hale, producing a cigar, "that Jenny--as she is -called----" - -"Yes, yes!" broke in Walker impatiently, "go on." - -"Well, then, Jenny rose this morning to find the window of the -drawing-room wide open. Nothing was touched in that room. But your -bedroom was ransacked thoroughly. Your clothes were strewn about, and -apparently every pocket had been examined. The drawers were opened, -and even the bed had been overhauled. There was no sign of the -burglar, and Jenny swears that--sleeping at the back of the house--she -heard nothing." - -"And what has been stolen?" asked Lesbia, hesitatingly. - -"Only the cross." - -"Are you sure?" - -"Absolutely! I gave Jenny the note and together with the policeman -who, by the way, is a bucolic idiot, she took me to the bedroom. I -examined the right-hand drawer which was open, as were all the other -drawers, and found that the cross was missing. Jenny declared that -nothing else had been taken. Of course the girl was in a great state -of alarm, as she was the sole person in the house, and she feared lest -she should be accused. Also, and very naturally, she was surprised at -your being away, Walker." - -George nodded. "I daresay. It is rarely that I sleep away from home, -and when I do I give notice. Humph!" he sat down on the grass opposite -Mr. Hale and gripped his ankles. "What do you think, sir?" - -Hale made a vague motion of despair. "What can I think? I know as much -as you do, and nothing more. Would you mind my putting you in the -witness-box, Walker?" - -"By no means. Ask what questions you desire." - -"And I shall be counsel for the defence," said Lesbia, sitting down -beside her lover with rather a wry smile. It appeared to her that Mr. -Hale wished to recall his offer to let the marriage take place: also -that he wished to get George into trouble if he could. But how he -proposed to do so the girl could not tell. However she was anxious and -listened with all her ears. Mr. Hale raised his eyebrows at her odd -speech, but took no further notice of it. He was too much interested -in his examination. - -"Lesbia," said Mr. Hale quietly, "gave you the cross yesterday evening -in my presence, so to speak. What did you do with it?" - -"I slipped it into my breast-pocket," said Walker promptly, "and rowed -back to Medmenham, as you saw. On arriving, I placed it for safety in -the drawer of my dressing-table. Then, later, as I explained at -breakfast, I came down to see Lesbia and was assaulted by an unknown -man." - -"Did you show the cross to anyone, say to Jenny?" - -"No. And if I had shown it to Jenny, it would not have mattered. You -do not suspect an honest girl like her, I presume." - -"Honest girls may yield to the temptation of stealing such a fine -ornament as the cross," said Hale drily. "However, it may set your -mind at rest if I say that I don't suspect Jenny. Had she stolen the -cross, she would not have had the imagination to upset the room and -leave the window open, so as to suggest burglary. But think again, -Walker; did you show the cross to anyone after leaving this garden?" - -"No," said George positively, "I certainly did not, that is, not -voluntarily." - -"Ah! then some one else did see it," said Hale, with satisfaction and -with marked eagerness. "Come, man, speak up." - -"I had almost forgotten," said Walker slowly. "Perhaps the blow on my -head made me forget; but I remember now." - -"Remember what?" asked Lesbia, as eager as her father. - -"That those gipsies saw the cross." - -"Gipsies?" Hale and his daughter glanced at one another. - -"Yes. I was walking up the lane to my home when I passed a gipsy -encampment. While doing so I pulled out my handkerchief, and the -cross--which I had placed in my breast-pocket--fell out. The -handkerchief twitched it, I suppose. It flashed down on the grass, and -the glitter caught the eye of a man lounging near the caravan. He came -forward and pointed out where it had fallen, as I had not noticed its -whereabouts for the moment. By the time I picked it up two or three of -the gipsies had gathered round, and saw me restore it to my pocket. -Then I thanked the man and went home." - -Lesbia clapped her hands. "Why it is perfectly plain," she cried, -delighted. "That man must have assaulted you on the towing-path to -steal the cross. Not finding it on you, he robbed the house. What do -you think, father?" - -Hale nodded. "I think as you do. So the best thing to be done will be -to come and see the constable, or the inspector here in Marlow. We -must have those gipsies searched before they go away. The encampment -was still there this morning; but I saw signs of removal." - -George leaped to his feet. "Yes, it must be so" he cried eagerly. "I -daresay the man robbed me--the cross being flamboyant is just the -thing which would attract him." - -"Then we must see the inspector. I must get the cross back. It is a -pity I remained at Cookham last night with Sargent. Had I been here, I -should have gone at once to Medmenham." - -"But it was midnight, father." - -"I don't care. The mere fact that Walker here was assaulted would have -proved to me that the cross was wanted. Since he left it at home the -thief would probably have burgled the house. I might have caught him -red-handed. Oh, why didn't I come home last night?" - -Mr. Hale was genuinely moved over the loss of the ornament. And yet -Lesbia could not think that it was mere sentimental attachment -thereto, as having belonged to his dead wife, that made him so -downcast. Also in itself the cross was of comparatively little value. -Lesbia's suspicions returned, and again she dismissed them as -unworthy. Moreover, if Hale had assaulted George and had committed a -burglary he would not be so eager to set the police on the track. -Whosoever was guilty he at least must be innocent. Cold as her father -was to her, and little affection as she bore him, it was agreeable to -find that he was honest--though, to be sure, every child expects to -find its parents above reproach. Perhaps a sixth sense told Lesbia -that her father was not all he should be. In no other way could she -guess how she came to be so ready to think ill of him. But up to the -present, she had suspected him wrongly, and so was pleased. - -Hale and young Walker went to the Marlow police-office and explained -in concert what had occurred. The officer in charge of the station -heard their tale unmoved, as it was nothing more exciting than a -robbery by a vagabond. He went with them personally to Medmenham, and -there met the village constable, who presented his report. This did -not include any reference to gipsies. His superior--whose name was -Parson--questioned him, and learned that the thief or thieves had left -no trace behind, and--on the evidence of Jenny the maid--had stolen -nothing save the cross. Parson then went to Mrs. Walker's house and -questioned the girl. - -Jenny was naturally much agitated, but was reassured by George, who -declared that no one suspected her. "I should think not, sir," she -cried, firing up and growing red. "I didn't even know that the cross -you speak of was in the house. You never showed it to me, sir." - -"No," acknowledged Walker truthfully, "I certainly did not." - -"Did you see any of those gipsies lurking about the house?" asked -Parson. - -"No," said Jenny positively, "I did not. Mr. George went out for a -walk at ten o'clock, and I lay down at half-past. I never knew -anything, or heard anything, or guessed anything. When I got up at -seven, as usual, and went to dust the drawing-room, I found the window -open. And that didn't scare me, as I thought Mr. George might have -opened it when he got up." - -"But you knew that he was not in the house?" said Hale alertly. - -"I never did, sir. I went to wake him after I found the drawing-room -window open, and found that he hadn't been to bed. The room was upset -too, just as you saw it. If I'd known that I was alone in the cottage -I should have been scared out of my life; but I thought Mr. George -came in late, and had gone to bed as usual. I nearly fainted, I can -tell you," cried Jenny tearfully. "Fancy a weak girl like me being -left alone with them horrid gipsies down the lane! But I slept through -it all, and I never saw no gipsies about. When I saw the bedroom upset -and that Mr. George wasn't there, I called in Quain the policeman. -That's all I know, and if missus does give me notice when she comes -back I'd have her know that I'm a respectable girl as doesn't rob -anyone." - -Jenny had much more to say on the subject, but all to no purpose; so -the three men went to the camp. They found the vagrants making -preparations to leave, and shortly were in the middle of what promised -to be a free fight. The gipsies were most indignant at being accused, -and but for a certain awe of the police would certainly have come to -blows with those who doubted their honesty. The man who had seen the -cross accounted for his movements on the previous night. He was in the -village public-house until eleven, so could not have assaulted Walker -on the towing-path, and afterwards was in bed in one of the caravans, -as was deposed to by his wife. In fact, every member of this -particular tribe--they were mostly Lovels from the New Forest--proved -that he or she had nothing to do with either the assault or burglary. -Finally, Parson, entirely beaten, departed with the other two men, and -the gipsies proceeded to move away in a high state of indignation. - -"Do you really think that they are innocent?" asked Hale, who surveyed -the procession of outgoing caravans with a frown. - -"Yes, I do," said Parson, who was not going to be taught his business -by any civilian. - -"So do I," struck in Walker. "All the men who saw the cross have -accounted for their whereabouts last night. They were not near my -mother's house, nor across the river on the towing-path." - -Hale smiled drily. He had no opinion of Walker's intelligence, or of -that which Mr. Parson possessed. "Rogues and vagabonds--as these -people are--stand by one another, and will swear to anything to keep -one of their number out of gaol. I don't put much faith in the various -alibis. You should have searched the caravans, officer." - -"And the men and women also, I suppose, sir," said Parson quietly. "I -had no warrant to do so, let me remind you. Even gipsies have their -privileges under the English law. Also, if anyone of these men were -guilty, he could easily have passed the cross to one of the women, or -buried it. I might have searched and found nothing, only to lay myself -open to a lecture from my superiors." - -"Still," began Hale, unwilling to surrender his point of view, "let me -remind you, Mr. Parson, that----" - -"And let me remind you, sir," broke in the officer stiffly, "that only -this ornament you speak of was stolen. If a gipsy had broken into the -house he would certainly have taken other things. And again, no gipsy -could have carried Mr. Walker into your parlour, seeing that not one -member of the tribe is aware of your existence, much less where your -cottage is situated. I am ignorant on that score myself." - -Having thus delivered himself with some anger, for the supercilious -demeanour of Hale irritated him, Parson strode away. He intimated -curtly to the two men, as he turned on his heel, that if he heard of -anything likely to elucidate the mystery he would communicate with -them: also he advised them if they found a clue to see him. - -Hale laughed at this last request. "I fancy I see myself placing the -case in the hands of such a numskull." - -George shook his head. "If you do not employ the police, who is to -look into the matter?" he asked gravely. - -The answer was unexpected. - -"You are," said Hale, coldly and decisively. - -George stopped--they were walking back to Marlow when this -conversation took place--and stared in amazement at his companion. -"Why, I am the very worst person in the world to help you," he said, -aghast. - -"To help yourself, you mean. Remember I promised to consent to your -marriage to Lesbia only on condition that I got back the cross." - -"It is not my fault that the cross is lost." - -"I never said that it was," retorted Hale, tartly. "All the same you -will have to find it and return it to me before I will agree to your -marriage with my daughter. It would have been much better had you -handed it over to me last night." - -"I daresay," said George, somewhat sulkily, "but I'm not the man to -give up anything when the demand is made in such a tone as you used. -Besides, I don't see how I can find the cross." - -"Please yourself, my boy. But unless you do, Lesbia marries Sargent." - -"Sargent!" The blood rushed to Walker's cheeks and his voice shook -with indignation. "Do you mean to say that you would give your -daughter to that broken rake, to that worn-out---- - -"Ta! Ta! Ta!" said Hale, in an airy French fashion, and glad to see -the young man lose his temper. "Sargent is my very good friend and was -my brother officer when I was in the army. He would make Lesbia an -excellent husband, as he is handsome and well-off and amiable, -and----" - -"And an idiot, a gambler, and a----" - -"You'd better not let him hear you talk like that." - -Walker laughed. "I fear no one, let me tell you, Mr. Hale. Mr. Sargent -or Captain Sargent as he calls himself----" - -"He has every right to call himself so. He was a captain." - -"It is not usually thought good manners to continue the title after a -man has left the army," said George drily, and recovering his temper, -which he saw he should never have lost with a hardened man like Hale. -"You, for instance, do not call yourself----" - -"There! There! that's enough, Walker," cried the elder man -impatiently. "You know my terms. That cross and my consent: otherwise -Lesbia marries Sargent." - -"She loves me: she will never obey you," cried the lover desperately. - -"I shall find means to compel her consent," said Hale coldly. "Surely, -Mr. Walker, you have common sense at your age. Sargent has money and a -certain position you have neither." - -"I can make a position." - -"Then go and do so. When you are rich and highly-placed we can talk." - -Hale was as hard as iron and as cold. There seemed to be no chance of -getting what was wanted by appealing to his tender feelings, since he -had none whatsoever. But after swift reflection Walker thought of -something which might make the man change his mind. - -"Listen, Mr. Hale," he said, when Lesbia's father was on the point of -moving away from a conversation which he found unprofitable and -disagreeable. "I did not intend to tell you, but as my engagement with -Lesbia is at stake I will make a clean breast of it." - -Hale wheeled round with a cold light in his eyes. "Are you going to -confess that you stole the cross and got up a comedy to hide the -theft?" - -George laughed. "I am not clever enough for that. But it is about a -possible fortune that I wish to speak--one that may come to me through -my mother." - -"A fortune." Hale flushed, for only the mention of money could touch -his hard nature. "I never knew that your mother had money." - -"She has not now, but she may have." - -"Go on," said Hale, seeing that the young man hesitated, and watching -him with glittering eyes. "I have known your mother for years, but she -never told me either that she had money or expected any." - -"I should not tell you either," said Walker bluntly, "and so I -hesitated. I have no business to interfere with my mother's affairs. -However, I must speak since I want to marry Lesbia." - -"I am all attention." - -"My grandfather left his large fortune equally divided between his two -daughters. One was my mother; and her husband, my father, ran through -the lot, leaving her only a trifle to live on. I help to keep her." - -"This," said Hale coldly, "I already know." - -"But what you don't know is that my aunt--my mother's sister, that is, -ran away with some unknown person during her father's lifetime. He was -angry, but forgave her on his death-bed and left her a fair share of -the money--that is half. As my mother inherited fifty thousand, there -is an equal amount in the hands of Mr. Simon Jabez, a lawyer in -Lincoln's Inn Fields, waiting for my aunt should she ever come back." - -"And if she does not?" asked Hale anxiously. - -"Then, if her death can be proved, the money comes to my mother." - -"Humph! But you say your aunt ran away with someone--to marry the man, -I suppose. What if there is a child?" - -Walker's face fell. "The child inherits," he said softly. - -Hale laughed harshly. "You have found a mare's nest," he said coolly, -"and I see no reason to change my decision with regard to your -possible marriage with Lesbia. Your aunt may be alive and may appear -to claim the money. If she is dead, her child or children may come -forward. On the other hand, if your mother does come in for the fifty -thousand pounds you speak of she is, as I know, a hard woman." - -"I agree with you," said the young man, moodily and sadly. "She -is as hard as you are, Mr. Hale. But if she inherits my grandfather's -money--that is, my aunt's share--she has no one to leave it to but me. -I am an only child." - -"Your mother," said Hale deliberately, "is hard as you say; that is, -she is as sensible as I am. If you marry against her will, she will -not leave you one farthing of this money, which, after all, may never -come into her possession." - -"But why should she object to Lesbia?" asked George, "when she meets -her and sees how lovely she is----" - -"Bah!" Hale looked scornful, "you talk like a fool. As if any woman -was ever moved by the beauty of another woman. Besides, your mother -hates me; we are old enemies, and rather than see you marry my -daughter she would go to your funeral with joy. If you married against -her will--as you assuredly would in making Lesbia your wife--she would -leave you nothing. And I also dislike the match on account of your -mother." - -"But why are you her enemy, and she yours?" asked George, bewildered. - -"That is a long story and one which I do not intend to relate unless -driven to speak. If Lesbia marries you she will lose two thousand a -year which I can give her when I die. If you want to drag the girl you -love down to poverty, Mr. Walker, then marry her secretly. I tell you -that if you make Lesbia your wife neither I nor your mother will help -you." - -"And yet you said----" - -"That you could make Lesbia your wife, if you found the cross. Yes, I -did say that, and I still say it. If you get me the cross, you shall -marry her and have the two thousand a year when I die. But it would be -wiser for you to leave Lesbia alone and marry----" - -"Marry whom?" asked George, his cheeks flaming. - -"Maud Ellis," retorted Hale with a sneering laugh, and turned away. - - - - -CHAPTER V -MRS. WALKER'S OPINION - - -After that one extraordinary adventure which broke so remarkably the -monotony of George Walker's life, things went very smoothly for a -time. That is, they progressed in their usual humdrum way, which was -trying to the young man's ambitious spirits. He wanted to marry -Lesbia, to make a home for her, to attain a position, which her beauty -would adorn; and he saw no means of doing so. He went regularly to the -office, earned his small salary, and dreamed dreams which could never -be realised, at least, there appeared to be no chance of realisation. -What could a man of moderate attainments, with no money and no -friends, hope to do in the way of cutting a figure in the world? - -Mrs. Walker duly returned home, and Jenny gave her a highly-coloured -account of the burglary, which she heard in stern silence. She was a -tall, grim woman with a hard face and a stiff manner, and was -invariably arrayed in plain black gowns devoid of any trimming -whatever. Her hair, still dark in spite of her age, was smoothed over -her temples in the plain early Victorian manner, and her pale -countenance was as smooth as that of a young girl. That she was a -gentlewoman could easily be seen, but her manner was repellent and -suspicious. Also, her thin lips and hard grey eyes did not invite -sympathy. How such a Puritanical person ever came to have a handsome, -gracious son such as George, perplexed more than one person. The -general opinion was that he inherited his looks and his charm of -manner from his late father. Report credited the Honourable Aylmer -Walker with more fascination than principle. And truth to tell, his -posthumous reputation was better than that which he had enjoyed when -living. - -Having ascertained the facts of the burglary and the loss of the -amethyst cross, Mrs. Walker held her peace, and did not discuss the -subject with her son. George, indeed, ventured upon a lame -explanation, which she received in dead silence. After the hint given -by Mr. Hale, the young man was not desirous of disclosing his -engagement to Lesbia, and a discussion about the stolen cross would -inevitably lead to the truth becoming known to Mrs. Walker. Sooner or -later he knew that he would have to speak, but he postponed doing so -until he could see his future more clearly. If he could only procure a -better post in the City, he could then afford to keep Lesbia in -comparative comfort, and pass a love-in-a-cottage existence. But until -he was in a position to do so, he avoided confiding in his mother. -Also, Mrs. Walker was not a sympathetic mother, and would certainly -not have encouraged the young man's love-dream. - -But one evening Mrs. Walker unexpectedly broached the subject at -dinner. This was seven days after the adventure of the cross, and -during that time George had never set eyes on Lesbia. Several times he -had rowed as usual to the garden's foot, but had waited in vain for -the girl's appearance. An inquiry at the house provoked no response, -as neither Tim nor Lesbia came to the fast-closed door. George in -despair had written, but to his anxious letter had received no reply. -Lesbia remained silent and the cottage barred and bolted, so George -began to believe that Hale had smuggled away his daughter, lest she -should elope with the lover of whom he so strongly disapproved. This -state of uncertainty wore Walker's nerves thin, and he lost his -appetite and his night's rest. Mechanically he went to Tait's office, -did his daily work, and returned home again, fretting all the time -after the girl who was beyond his reach. He even tried to see Mr. -Hale, but that gentleman was conspicuous by his absence. Never was a -lover in so dismal a situation. - -On this especial evening George, in evening dress, faced his silent -mother at the dinner-table. Mrs. Walker wore a plain black silk gown, -perfectly cut, but wholly unadorned. Like Mr. Hale, she always -insisted upon a certain style being observed and dined, so to speak, -in state. The tiny room was well furnished with the remnants of her -former prosperity, and looked like the abode of a gentlewoman. Nothing -could have been more perfect than the table appointments and, if the -food was plain, the way in which it was served left nothing to be -desired. Jenny, neatly dressed, waited deftly and, at the conclusion -of the dinner, placed a decanter of port before George, along with a -silver box of cigarettes and a dainty silver spirit lamp. - -As a rule, Mrs. Walker withdrew at this moment to enjoy her coffee in -the drawing-room, while George sipped his wine and trifled with a -cigarette, but on this occasion she remained. "You can bring my coffee -here," she said to Jenny, in her unemotional voice. - -George wondered at this departure from the usual routine, for his -mother had never broken the domestic rule she had instituted as far -back as he could remember. However, he did not feel called upon to say -anything but poured out a glass of port, and lighted a cigarette. When -Mrs. Walker obtained her coffee, and Jenny had departed, she spoke to -her son through the gathering twilight. - -"I have received a letter from Mr. Hale," said Mrs. Walker in her -coldest voice, and sat bolt upright with her eyes on the comely blonde -face of her son. - -"What!" George flushed and started, and laughed nervously. "That is -very strange," he said after a pause, "Mr. Hale has never written to -you before." - -"There are reasons why he should not have written to me before, as -there are reasons why he writes to me now." - -"May I know those reasons?" asked George quietly, but inwardly -anxious. - -"Certainly!" Mrs. Walker was disagreeable but excessively polite, as -she never forgot her manners, whatever the provocation. "In fact, I -have waited to explain them. But I think you had better tell me your -story first." - -"What story?" - -"That of your engagement to Lesbia Hale, and of the cross which was -stolen from this cottage." - -"What!" George rose restlessly and grew redder than ever. "You -know----" - -"I know everything," said his mother imperiously. "Mr. Hale is annoyed -by the way in which you are haunting his Marlow cottage, and has asked -me to use my influence with you to stop the annoyance." - -"That is quite likely," rejoined George, fuming, "but I decline to -give up Lesbia. Mr. Hale knows that." - -"He knows, apparently, that you are obstinate and foolish," said Mrs. -Walker in a chilly manner. "And as your infatuation--for it is nothing -else--can lead to nothing, I must ask you to stop these hopeless -visits." - -"Mother, if you knew Lesbia----" - -"I know that Lesbia is the daughter of a man whom I despise and hate," -said Mrs. Walker, moved to cold anger, "and my son shall never marry -her." - -"You have not the power to stop the marriage," said George quietly. - -"That is quite true. I have no money to threaten disinheritance, and -no legal power over a man who is of age. I might indeed appeal to your -affection, but I fear that it would be useless." - -George flung his cigarette out of the window, and thrust his hands -moodily into his pockets. "Affection is a strange word to use between -us, mother," he remarked bitterly. "You have always been strict and -straightforward, and painfully polite. You have given me a good -education, and you have instructed me in good manners. My home," he -looked round, "or rather your home, you permit me to share." - -"Pardon me, George, you forget that you contribute to the domestic -economy of this home, such as it is. Go on." - -"I mean," cried George desperately, for her manner chilled him, "that -you have never been a mother to me in the accepted sense of the word." - -"I have done my duty," said Mrs. Walker without flinching. - -"Duty! duty! what is duty when I wanted love? I have lived in a -freezing atmosphere which has nearly changed me into a statue. Can you -wonder that I sought out someone to love?" - -"Perhaps not, since you are young and foolish, but I regret that the -someone should be a girl that I cannot possibly receive as my -daughter-in-law." - -"What do you mean by that?" demanded George sharply. - -"Nothing detrimental to the girl," replied Mrs. Walker calmly. "She -may have all the beauty in the world, and all the virtues, and -probably has, in your eyes, but she is Walter Hale's daughter and so -cannot be mine." - -"Why do you hate Mr. Hale, mother?" - -"That," said Mrs. Walker, sitting very upright, "is my private -business." - -"But when it interferes with my happiness----" - -"I cannot help that," she said rigorously. "What is past is past, and -what is dead is dead." - -"I don't understand you." - -"I do not mean that you should. But I would point out that your -association with this girl, has already led you into danger. You have -been assaulted and robbed, and have come into contact with the police, -which is always undesirable. Renounce Lesbia, George, lest worse -befall." - -"The robbery and the assault are mysteries." - -"None the less they are dangerous. I can explain no more than you can; -but Mr. Hale is a dangerous person, to my knowledge, and----" - -"Tell me what you know," interpolated her son. - -"No," said Mrs. Walker, with iron determination. "It would do no good -to break the silence of years. All I can say is that you shall never -marry the girl with my consent." - -"And if I do without it," chafed George, irritably. "Then you will -never set eyes on me again," returned Mrs. Walker quietly. - -"Mother!" - -The woman calmly finished her coffee and rose noiselessly. "The time -may come when I can explain," she said in her precise voice. -"Meanwhile I can only command you, or implore you--whichever you -please--to leave this girl alone and go no more to the Marlow -cottage." - -"I don't see why I should obey you blindly," cried George angrily. "At -least give me a reason for your objection to Lesbia." - -"I have given it: she is the daughter of Walter Hale." - -"And are the sins of the father--whatever they may be--to be visited -upon the child, mother?" - -"Quoting the Bible will not alter my determination," said Mrs. Walker, -absolutely cold and impassive. "You must do as I request or be -prepared to see me no more." - -"Mother, can you not explain about this mysterious cross----" - -"No." - -"You refuse to." - -"I mean that I cannot. I know nothing about the cross, or about the -assault made on you, or indeed about the burglary. All I do know is -that Mr. Hale is a dangerous man, and is connected with dangerous -people--what has occurred proves it." - -"But surely you don't think that Mr. Hale is connected with these -mysteries?" - -"I think nothing because I know nothing!" She moved swiftly forward -and placed a slim hand on her son's broad shoulder. "Be wise and give -up this girl. The wife who is waiting for you will suit you better." - -George grew crimson. "The wife!" he stammered. - -"Maud Ellis! Mr. Tait's niece. She loves you, and she has told me so. -If you marry her she will bring you money, and her uncle will forward -your interests. To-morrow you are stopping for the week-end at Mr. -Tait's house. Before you return here on Monday ask Maud to be your -wife." - -"I shall do nothing of the sort," said George fiercely. "How can I -propose to one girl, when I love another?" - -"Maud Ellis adores you, George." - -"I know she does: it seems conceited to say so, but I am quite aware -of her adoration. And I don't like it. She is rich and handsome and -all the rest of it, and a marriage with her, means my getting on in -the office. All the same, I--I--I--" he hesitated, then finished his -sentence with a rush, "I love Lesbia, so there is no more to be said." - -Mrs. Walker removed her hand and glided to the door again, her cold -self. "I quite agree with you," she said, exasperatingly cool. -"However, you know my determination. Act as you please." - -"And affection?" called out George as she opened the door. - -"Must give way to commonsense." - -When alone, the young man dropped into a chair and looked moodily at -the disordered dinner-table. He was very much to be pitied for having -such a mother. Of a warm affectionate nature, George hungered for some -object upon which to expend his love. Mrs. Walker had always been a -granite image, unapproachable and chill. No doubt she was fond of her -handsome son in her own cold way, but she had never given him the -maternal love he craved for. It was small wonder that the boy had gone -afield to find some satisfaction for his craving. Lesbia supplied the -want, and on her side found the same joy as her lover in their mutual -affection. Mr. Hale in his way was as cold and repellent to her as -Mrs. Walker was to her son. Yet these two people, not giving the -longed-for love themselves to their children, were trying to rob -hungry hearts of spiritual sustenance--a dog-in-a-manger attitude -which did not commend itself to George. - -He felt that he and Lesbia were severely alone, conscious only of each -other and environed by mysteries, which neither could understand. Mr. -Hale could explain, and so could Mrs. Walker, but no explanation was -volunteered, and George did not know where to look for an elucidation -of their several attitudes. Mrs. Walker certainly professed herself -ignorant of the amethyst cross mystery, and apparently spoke truly, as -her dislike to the match with Lesbia appeared to be wholly based upon -her hatred of Walter Hale. And that hatred had to do with Hale's past, -of which George knew as little as he did of the past of his mother. -But Hale knew something about the cross, which accounted for his -extraordinary behaviour, although he declared that he did not know who -had stolen it. George was also greatly perplexed to know who had taken -him to the Marlow cottage while he was insensible. Sitting in the -chair with his eyes on the ground, he frowningly perplexed himself -with these problems. It was all of no use, so he brushed aside the -troubles and, after changing his evening dress for boating flannels, -went to the river. He hoped by exercise to rid himself of these -phantoms, so indistinct and yet so real. - -Having launched his boat and settled to work, George spun down the -stream, the current and his own efforts carrying him along with what -appeared to be lightning speed. The attention required in looking -after the slight craft prevented his thinking of his mysterious -troubles, and his spirits began to rise. At Henley lock his course was -stayed, for as he swung into the gates he became aware that another -boat was in the lock, and that Tim occupied that same strange shallop. - -The two men recognised one another at once, and a very natural -question leaped to Walker's lips. - -"Lesbia?" he gasped. - -"Thrue for ye," grumbled Tim, who looked more misshapen that ever in -the dim light. "It's from the young mistress I come. Whist now, sor, -an' let me clear out av this divil of a place." - -George backed his boat out of the lock and Tim muttering under his -breath, followed closely. Then the little man paddled his clumsy craft -into the near bank, and beckoned George to come also. In a few minutes -the two boats were amongst the rustling sedges side by side, and -Walker waited breathlessly for Tim to speak. - -The sky was filling with shadows, but there was sufficient light for -George to see that Tim looked both sorrowful and worried. The sight of -the dwarfs sad face revived his terrors. - -"Lesbia," cried George again, and gripped Tim's arm fiercely. "She is -well?" - -"Well in body but sick of heart," said Tim dismally. "Augh, the poor -mistress, and how can she be well wid the divil's divarsions bein' -played round her?" - -"I have tried to see her----" - -"Divil a doubt of it, sor. And ye've sint letthers likewise." - -"She never answered," breathed George sadly. - -"An' how cud she whin she nivir recaved thim same. Answer me that now, -sor." - -George sat bolt upright in his boat. "Never got my letters! Then -how----" - -"Ah, be aisy now, me dear young masther," pleaded Tim, and took a tiny -note from his pocket. "This was all the mistress cud write, being -watched like a mouse, an' by a cat too, divil take the slut." - -George scarcely heard what Tim was saying. He was devouring two or -three lines of Lesbia's dear writing, which stated that she would -always be true to him, and that Tim would reveal all. - -"Reveal what," cried the young man, kissing the letter before -transferring it to his pocket. - -"The divil's divarsions," grumbled Tim. "Write an answer, sor." - -"I have no pencil, no paper," said George in dismay. "But tell me -exactly what has occurred, Tim, and then I'll see what can be done." - -Tim nodded. "Sure, it's dying for you she is, me dear sor. The masther -wants her to marry the Captain, bad luck to his sowl!" - -"I know that, but----" - -"Howld yer whist, sor," growled the little man, flinging up his long -arm. "I have mighty little time to spake. The masther doesn't trust -me, forby he knows I wish to see me dear mistress happy wid you, sor, -so he's got a she-divil in the house, Mrs. Petty by name, who kapes a -watch inside. Thin there's Captain Sargent's man. The Shadow they call -him for his thin looks, though Canning is his name, bad luck to it. He -watches outside, an' whin your boat comes in sight he passes the worrd -to Mrs. Petty an' she--may the father av lies fly away wid her--shuts -Miss Lesbia in her room." - -"But this is tyranny!" cried George, exasperated. "Do you mean to say -that Mr. Hale has his daughter watched in this manner?" - -"Ay an' I do, and he'll have her watched till she goes to church wid -Captain Sargent, or until ye git back that crass. But nivir fear, sor, -Miss Lesbia has a fine spirit of her own, and she'll stick to ye -through thick an' thin, like the brave young lady she is." - -"What's to be done?" asked George, in dismay. - -Tim leaned forward. "Write a bit av a letther and sind it to me, -Mister Timothy Burke, Rose Cottage, Marlow. Thim two divils, Mrs. -Petty an' The Shadow, to say nothin' av the masther, won't stop that. -Thin I'll find means to pass it to the mistress." - -"Yes! Yes, Tim. I'll do that. But the tyranny----" - -"Whist now, for time passes, me dear sor. I heard the masther sayin' -that Captain Sargent was goin' to stay wid Mr. Tait at Hinley. Spake -to him, sor, to that same Captain." - -"But what can I say?" demanded George, more and more perplexed. - -"Sor," cried Tim gruffly, "as ye're a man ye can break the head of the -divil." And with this advice Tim pushed his boat again into midstream. - - - - -CHAPTER VI -PURPLE AND FINE LINEN - - -Mr. Michael Tait dealt principally in stocks and shares, but was not -above any scheme, however wild or however shady, which promised to -result in large profits. His motto was: "Make money honestly if you -can, but make money!" and he consistently acted up to this advice -throughout a long career of speculation. He was not so much a spider -sitting in a web to lure unwary flies, as an octopus who stretched out -tentacles in every direction to draw victims into his maw. He indulged -in dozens of enterprises, both openly and secretly, but all with the -aim of making as much cash as possible. That many of these schemes led -to much misery, that is, the misery of other people, he never stopped -to inquire. And even if he had done so he would have taken no note of -the answer. The race was to the swift and the battle to the strong, in -Mr. Tait's humble opinion, and those who failed either in fighting or -running had to make the best of their plight. - -In appearance Michael Tait was a squat, burly, sturdy man, with sandy -hair and whiskers, and a pair of cold blue eyes devoid of all -sympathy. He dressed expensively, wore a profusion of jewellery, and -was rarely without an excellent cigar sticking out of his mouth. For -the sake of luring his victims he cultivated a jolly, free and easy -manner, and exhibited an external good nature which deceived many. To -quote Tennyson's cutting line, he "snake-like slimed his victim e'er -he gorged," and acted the Pharisee by largely advertising his -charities. He was looked upon generally as a good fellow, rough, but -really kind-hearted, and possessed of a true Christian spirit. As a -matter of fact, Mr. Tait knew very little of Christ and His teaching, -and would not have subscribed to it, save by word of mouth, had he -been aware of its spirit. But he passed as a good man, because he went -to church and talked largely of helping the poor. - -This prop of British commerce, as he was wrongly described by a too -ardent reporter, possessed a regal country house at Henley, where he -entertained largely. Also he had chambers in town, but these he only -used on rare occasions when business or pleasure prevented him seeking -his true home. Mrs. Tait had mercifully passed away many years -previously, under the delusion that Michael was a good man, and the -Henley mansion was managed by Maud Ellis, who was the stockbroker's -niece. - -Miss Ellis was a young lady of five-and-twenty, certainly not -bad-looking, although she could not be described as beautiful. Like -her respectable uncle, she was of the sandy type, but, unlike him, she -possessed a tall, full figure, finely-shaped. As she always dressed in -exquisite taste, and had a personality of the semi-hypnotic kind, she -was regarded as a desirable woman. The fact that she was her uncle's -heiress also may have had something to do with this opinion. Maud was -extremely cunning, and as selfish in her way as Michael was in his. He -sought money, she admiration, and they did very well in their efforts -to attract both. And it was this clever young woman who had chosen to -fall in love with George Walker. - -Of course she knew that he was a bad match, that he did not love her, -and that as his wife she would hold no very exalted position. But the -fact was that the girl, after playing with various suitors, like the -princess of a fairy tale, with no serious intentions, had been snared -herself. Whether it was Walker's good looks, or his kind heart, or his -charm of manner, it is impossible to say; perhaps one of the three, -perhaps the three together: but Miss Ellis assuredly was violently in -love with the young man. Having arrived at the conclusion that life -would be miserable without him, she set to work to make him propose, -thinking that she would have small difficulty. - -To her surprise, however, George proved to be quite impervious to her -sparkling conversation and clever display of her somewhat limited -charms. He was polite to her and nothing more, although she made her -uncle ask him again and again to the palace at Henley. This conduct -piqued Miss Ellis, but did not altogether displease her, as it gave -her an opportunity of exercising her talent for intrigue. - -From a mere fancy, her passion deepened to ardent love, and she swore -mentally that by hook or by crook she would force the young fellow to -make her Mrs. Walker. Rarely a week passed without George being asked -to Henley, and Maud did her best to subjugate him. But George being in -love with Lesbia had a very strong shield to oppose to her love darts, -and managed to avoid the amorous pitfalls she spread for him. For six -months the chase of this unwilling victim had been going on, and as -the quarry always dodged just as the huntress was on the verge of -capture, this middle-class Diana concluded that there was another -woman in the case. With a view to learning the truth, she watched and -made stealthy inquiries, so that she speedily learned of George's -infatuation--so she called it--for Lesbia Hale. To detach him from -Lesbia became the object of her life, and it was she who suggested to -Mr. Hale that Lesbia might profitably marry Captain Alfred Sargent. - -As Hale approved of Maud's cleverness, and was frequently indebted to -her for getting what he wanted from Tait, he did his best to fall in -with her plans, the more so, as he did not care whom his daughter -married, provided it was to his interest. - -Maud promised, if the marriage was brought about, to interest her -uncle in a wild-cat scheme of Hale's contrivance. So the loving father -did his best--as has been seen--to force his child into the arms of a -man she loathed. George knew nothing of all this intrigue, and kept -away from the Henley mansion as much as he could without openly -offending his employer. But when he heard from Tim that Captain -Sargent was to be a member of the Saturday to Monday house-party, he -determined to accept this latest invitation. An interview with Sargent -might clear the air of all these mysteries, and George--hating the -ex-captain--was not averse from breaking his head as Tim had advised, -if there was no other way of releasing Lesbia. Also George fancied -that Mr. Hale--a frequent visitor--might be enjoying Mr. Tait's -hospitality, in which case he could speak to him and remonstrate about -this tyranny to which Lesbia was subjected. - -When George arrived in time for afternoon tea on Saturday, he found -that his own hopes and those of Tim were realised--that is, both -Walter Hale and Captain Sargent were present. Hale looked as lean and -grim and smart as ever, while greeting the flushed young man with the -air of a perfect stranger. Maud, who presided at a dainty tea-table, -saw that flush, and from the juxtaposition of Hale guessed its reason. -She was therefore none too pleased, but veiling her annoyance with a -sweet smile, she called the new arrival over to her side, and poured -him out a cup of tea. - -"You are quite a stranger, Mr. Walker," she said graciously, devouring -him with her cold, grey eyes, which only lighted up when they rested -on his face. - -"I was here three weeks ago," said George politely, and accepting -cake. "It would rather bore Mr. Tait if I came here oftener." - -"It would never bore me," breathed Miss Ellis, "and my uncle is always -very glad to see you. He looks upon you almost as his son." - -George flushed again and looked awkward. "It is very kind of Mr. -Tait," he remarked coldly, "seeing that I am only a clerk in his -office." - -"Uncle was only a clerk once," said Maud, smiling. "And look what he -is now, Mr. Walker. Some day you will be like him." - -"I don't think so," said George, looking across to the stout, -ungraceful form of the successful stockbroker, who was being waited -upon hand and foot by two society ladies of the smart set, anxious to -secure tips. - -Maud took his remark in its wrong sense. "Oh, you must hope," she -declared playfully. "With influence," she spoke meaningly, "you will -do much." - -"I have no influence," returned the young man coldly. - -"That is your own fault," retorted Miss Ellis. "The tide of fortune is -flowing past your door, and you will not launch your boat." - -"I am waiting for a passenger," said Walker, thinking of Lesbia. - -Jealous and cunning as she was, Maud was quite taken in for the -moment, and smiled graciously. She fancied that he referred to her. -"You need not wait long," she hinted. - -George found the situation intolerable, and on the spur of the moment, -although it was neither the time nor the place to be confidential, he -spoke out. There should be no further misunderstandings if he could -help it. "My waiting depends upon Mr. Hale," he said bluntly. - -Maud bit her thin lip, and leaned back, with an artificial laugh. -Inwardly she was furious, as she now knew that his remark had referred -to "that girl," as she contemptuously called Lesbia. But she was too -much the woman of the world to reveal her feelings and, moreover, -utilised his observation to learn as much of the truth as possible. - -"Ah," she said archly, "a little bird told me that Mr. Hale has a -beautiful daughter. But I understood that she was engaged to Captain -Sargent." - -"She is engaged to me," flashed out George, quite forgetting that he -was speaking to a jealous woman. - -"Ah!" said Miss Ellis again, controlling her countenance with -difficulty; "the course of true love is not running smoothly. Poor Mr. -Walker, I must help you to gain your wife." - -"You!" blurted out George like a fool. - -Maud sat up and erected her crest like a snake. "Yes, I," she said -haughtily, anxious only for the moment to save her womanly pride. "Why -should I not help a friend? I look on you almost as a brother." - -Still like a fool, George believed her, and indeed her indignant -manner would have deceived a much cleverer man. He was very young and -very green, and in Maud's designing hands could be moulded like wax. - -She could have struck him in the face for the insult he had offered -her, but hiding her rage under a friendly smile, she laid her plans to -entrap him beyond hope of escape. "I shall get Mr. Hale to bring his -daughter here," she said quietly, "and then you can talk to her at -your leisure." - -"Oh, how good you are," cried George delightedly. "I am sure you will -love Lesbia: she is so beautiful and charming--as you are," he added -with an afterthought. - -Again the impulse came to Maud to strike him, and again her worldly -training came to her aid. "Hush!" she said softly, "you will make -Captain Sargent jealous. I believe he overheard." - -"I don't care if he did," said Walker defiantly. - -"Then I do," retorted Miss Ellis, who could not resist paying him out -a trifle, much as she loved him. "I don't want you to quarrel here. -Now go and talk to Captain Sargent while I receive these new people." - -Several ladies and two gentlemen entered at the moment, and she went -forward to greet them, followed by her uncle. George left the chair he -had occupied near the tea-table, and strolled across the room--not to -Sargent, but to interview Mr. Hale. - -That gentleman saw him coming, and moved away from the person to whom -he was speaking, in order to find a secluded corner. He saw that his -would-be son-in-law was coming to converse with him, and guessing the -subject of his conversation, wished to settle the matter without -scandal. George, as he surmised, was too frank to be diplomatic, and -if within the hearing of others, might say too much. But he need not -have been afraid. George, having been schooled in social usages, by -his mother, was perfectly capable of acting as a well-bred man. - -"I have called twice or thrice to see Lesbia," said George, sinking -his voice to a judicious whisper, "but I have not been successful." - -"That is as it should be," rejoined Mr. Hale coldly. "I do not wish -her to see you, and I have taken steps to prevent her from seeing -you." - -It was on the point of George's tongue to say that he knew what -precautions had been taken, but to speak openly would lead to the -betrayal of Tim, which was not to be thought of. However, he was as -blunt as he dared to be. "It is tyranny to keep a young girl shut up," -he snapped angrily. - -"You are the cause of her seclusion," retorted the elder man, "and as -her father I have a right to act as I please." - -"There are law and order in this country," said Walker heatedly, and -would have continued to speak with vehemence, but that Hale prevented -him. - -"You are right, and I take advantage of such law and order to prevent -my daughter from marrying a man I disapprove of." - -"Why do you object to me?" - -"We discussed that before and I gave you my answer. Also, if you will -remember, I gave you a chance of having things your own way. It is my -desire that Lesbia should marry my friend Sargent, but if you will -recover that lost cross for me, I will permit her marriage with you." - -"I can't find the cross," growled George sullenly. - -"Then you can't marry Lesbia," replied Hale, very distinctly, "and as -you are forcing me to curtail Lesbia's liberty by haunting the house, -I must ask you, in her interests if not in mine, to discontinue your -persecution." - -George looked at the cold grim face before him, very straightly. "I -love Lesbia, and I intend to marry Lesbia," he said quietly. -"Therefore I shall do all in my power to see Lesbia. As to Captain -Sargent----" - -"Hullo!" remarked that gentleman, who was strolling--perhaps -purposely--within ear-shot. "What about Captain Sargent?" - -He was a slim, thin, delicate-looking man of the -mutton-dressed-as-lamb type, that is, he did not look his age, and -affected a pronouncedly juvenile fashion, a trifle over-done. His -collars were too high, his ties were too brilliant, and his clothes -were aggressively new. To look at his array he might have just left an -army-crammer's, and had apparently stopped short at "the young -lieutenant" epoch, which is the era of the male peacock. As to his -looks, these were of the colourless faded type; his face was pale, his -eyes were pale, and his hair--what there was of it--was also pale. In -fact, Sargent looked like a sheet of paper prepared for sketching, and -could have painted upon the background of himself any character he -wished to represent, provided it was not a strong one. The contrast -between his washed out personality and young Walker's vivid virility -was most marked. - -"What about Captain Sargent?" repeated this product of civilisation, a -trifle more aggressively since George hesitated to speak. "Finish what -you have to say, Mr. Walker." - -"Certainly," replied the younger man coolly. "I am the more willing, -as Mr. Hale is present. In a word, Captain Sargent, I love Miss Lesbia -Hale, and I intend to marry her. You wish to make her your wife, and I -do not intend to let you have your way." - -"All that in a word," sneered the captain, with a disagreeable look in -his pale grey eyes. - -"Yes. In a word to the wise." - -"And suppose I am not wise?" - -"It matters very little to me if you are wise or not," retorted -George, who was not to be put down by sneers. "Lesbia is to marry me, -so that is all about it." - -Sargent glanced at Mr. Hale, who was quite unruffled. "I presume her -father's wish counts for something?" - -"Not when it conflicts with her happiness." - -"What do you say, Hale?" - -"I have said all that I intend to say. Walker knows my views." - -"He does," broke in George, "and he does not subscribe to them. I give -you warning that I intend to marry Lesbia. As to you, sir," he turned -so fiercely on Sargent that the man gave back a step. "If you make -Lesbia unhappy, or bother her in any way, I shall make myself very -unpleasant." - -"Dear me!" sneered the captain in feigned alarm. "What a terrible -Turk!" - -George stared coldly at his rival, and deliberately turned on his heel -without speaking further. He had declared open war, and he was pleased -that he had done so. Now--with a clear conscience--he could haunt the -Marlow cottage and see Lesbia and woo Lesbia and carry off Lesbia, -without feeling that he was acting otherwise than as a gentleman and -an ardent lover. "Damn the fellow!" breathed Sargent, who had reddened -under Walker's contemptuous gaze. "What's to be done, Hale?" - -"Nothing," rejoined that gentleman sternly. "If you find that cross, -you can marry Lesbia; if Walker finds it, he can make her his wife." - -It was a pity that George did not overhear this speech. He would have -been interested to hear that Sargent also was seeking for the -mysterious ornament to which Hale appeared to attach such value. The -captain looked at his friend curiously. "Why do you want this cross so -much?" he asked. - -"That's my business. What you have to do is to find it;" and in his -turn Mr. Hale went away, leaving Sargent caressing his moustache in -some perplexity. - -Presently, everyone went to dinner, which was a banquet delicately -cooked and splendidly served. Tait was quite devoted to the pleasures -of the table, and paid his chef a large salary. The food was perfect -and the wines flowed freely, so that by the time the guests repaired -to the drawing-room, everyone was in the best of spirits. The -house-party was a large one, as there were about twenty people -present, and not one of these would have been acceptable in a Sunday -school. There were ladies belonging to the smart set, perfectly -respectable from a worldly point of view, but who cared for nothing -save bridge and dress, flirtation and pleasure. There were also men, -some with titles, and many with brains of the speculative money-making -order. - -Tait was not entirely in society, but by reason of his wealth and -public position as a philanthropist hovered on the fringe of it. He -helped social butterflies to make money on the Stock Exchange, lent -sums large and small to ladies who could advance him in Mayfair and -Belgravian circles, and was always open to consider any scheme which -promised to bring in cash. Thus his house-parties were composed of a -heterogeneous mass of people, good or bad, titled and untitled, gay -and grave. But a general air of restlessness prevailed, and in that -splendid mansion one and all appeared to dance along a golden road, -which doubtless led to the Pit, and were personally conducted by the -cunning, self-indulgent, worldly old stockbroker, who might have -passed as Mammon in the flesh. - -After dinner, the party split up into sections. Some ardent gamblers -sat down to bridge; a few restless spirits went to dance, and a group -gathered round a young man at the piano who sang the latest comic -songs. - -There was plenty of champagne, together with cigars and cigarettes of -the best, so the fun waxed fast and furious, and as the hours drew on -to midnight everyone grew more or less excited. Within bounds, of -course, as Maud Ellis was too clever to permit the Henley palace to -earn a name for Neronian extravagance. The entertainment just paused -on the verge of an orgy; but under Maud's skilful management did not -over-step the mark. - -That young lady had been watching George all the night although she -did not speak to him again. Towards twelve o'clock, she found herself -near him, and rallied him on his pensive air. "Don Quixote in love," -she said in an airy manner. - -Then she lowered her voice impressively. "Meet me in the -picture-gallery at three o'clock," she said, "for Lesbia's sake." - - - - -CHAPTER VII -AFTER MIDNIGHT - - -Had George been more of a man of the world he would have wholly -mistrusted Maud, and would have declined her invitation to meet him in -the picture-gallery in the small hours of Sunday morning. It would not -have been credited by a judge of human nature that one woman would -make such an appointment with the man she loved to plead the cause of -her rival, or to give a helping hand to bring about a marriage which -was dead against the feelings of her heart. But George, in spite of -his years and virile looks, was an unsophisticated man, who could -not guess what was below the surface. He was a kind of society -tender-foot, and perhaps this in some measure constituted his charm in -the eyes of Miss Ellis, who had experience enough to fit out a dozen -men and at least two women. At all events, although he wondered that -her liking for him--as he termed it--had lapsed so suddenly, yet he -determined to keep the appointment and to listen to any scheme which -she might propose, likely to accomplish the marriage with Lesbia. In -this way are strong men twisted to feminine purposes by women, and -from Samson downwards no man has been sufficiently cunning to get the -better of his Delilah. There was therefore some excuse for George. - -His attention was drawn from his own thoughts by a lively discussion -going on between Mr. Tait and three or four ladies, with a sprinkling -of men. As it was now long after midnight some people had retired to -bed, and others were preparing to follow. But Tait was a night bird -who liked to stay up as long as possible--probably because, as a -robber of widows and orphans, his pillow must have had its thorns. To -entertain those guests who remained wakeful, and especially the -feminine portion thereof, he mentioned that he had lately come into -possession of some wonderful jewels which a famous, or rather -infamous, _demi-mondaine_ of Paris had sold. Of course, the ladies -were more than anxious to see these gems, both on account of their -beauty and value and because of the celebrity of their former owner. -They one and all clamoured for a sight of them, and as Mr. Tait had -purposely stimulated their curiosity to keep them from retiring, he -was not unwilling to gratify their wish. He therefore led the way to -the picture-gallery, and pointed out a small narrow door at the end of -it. - -"There is my safe," he said proudly, "or rather my strong-room." - -"Queer place for a safe," drawled Sargent, with a shrug. - -"And for that reason the safer. We are all friends here," Tait glanced -round graciously, and looked more like a Silenus than ever, "so I do -not mind revealing the whereabouts of twenty thousand pounds' worth of -jewels. But no thief would dream that my safe was here. And even if he -did," added the stockbroker, drawing out his watch-chain, "the safe -cannot be opened save by this key." - -"But it might be broken open," George ventured to remark. - -Tait laughed in a jolly manner. "It would take the cleverest thief in -London to break into my safe, and there are only two keys to open it. -I have one on my watch-chain, and Maud, my niece, has the other." - -The guests looked at one another. Had not Tait been flushed with wine -and excitement he would not have been thus free in his speech, and he -was not a man who talked at large as a rule. But the lateness of the -hour, the presence of many people, the lights, the music, the -gambling, the wine, and the chatter had unloosened his usually -cautious tongue. Maud frowned when her uncle spoke so rashly, as she -thought that he was a fool to do so. Certainly there was no one -present who would have broken open the safe, since everyone was -respectable, even if--as the word goes--rackety! All the same the -revelation of the whereabouts of the safe and the information so -guilelessly supplied was risky, to say the least of it. Miss Ellis -shook her head at her venturesome uncle. - -"Don't say too much," she remarked in a low voice, "even this safe may -not be strong enough to withstand a burglar of the new school." - -"Well, I don't care," cried the stockbroker recklessly, inserting his -key into the lock, "my jewels are insured. Come, ladies, you can all -feast your eyes, and--as I have bought the gems to sell them again--I -am open to an offer." - -He said this jokingly, yet meant to sell if he could. Some of the -guests drew back rather annoyed, as they thought that Mr. Tait was -going too far in importing City manners into his house-party. Maud, -ever watchful, again whispered to her uncle, but he shook her off, and -entered the strong-room--now open--to bring out the jewels. When the -box which contained them was placed on a near table, and the contents -were displayed, all thought of Tait's bad manners disappeared in -amazement and delight at the sight of the precious stones. - -These were truly beautiful. Many were set in tiaras, bracelets, rings, -chains, lockets and in various ornaments for the hair and corsage. But -other stones lay loose and glittering, to be arranged and used as -required. There were diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds and many -inferior gems, the whole forming a dazzling heap, which made every -mouth water with avarice. But for Tait's estimate, those present--and -some were good judges of jewels--would have deemed the radiant pile -worth twice the amount mentioned. - -"Try them on, ladies," said the genial stockbroker. "Try them on. We -are all friends here!" and he placed a tiara on the head of his niece, -who stood near with a frown on her face. She began to think that her -uncle was crazy to display his wealth in this reckless manner. - -In a few moments some of the female guests were glittering with -jewels, and surveying themselves delightedly in hand-mirrors which had -been brought by Tait's order. The stockbroker himself, with a cynical -smile, looked at their avaricious faces, and listened with sneering -pleasure to the delighted little screams which they gave at intervals. - -Jewels have a much greater effect on women than on men, and there was -not a woman present but would have gone great lengths for the sake of -possessing even one of the ornaments. Gretchen was not the only woman -who could be lured by the glitter of gems, which is so much superior -to the mere gleam of gold. And Tait, amidst this splendour, looked -more like Mammon than ever. - -But this early-hours-of-the-morning pleasure came to an end in fifteen -minutes, and the ladies, taking off the jewels, restored them to their -owner. Tait was really glad to get them back, and counted them -carefully, for the look in the eyes of some of the ladies actually -frightened him, and he half thought that they would run away with the -treasures. However, he made sure that every one of the ornaments had -been given back, and replaced them in the box, which he deposited in -the safe. After that, the guests went to bed, and the gallery, with -the strong-room carefully locked, was left in silence and darkness. -But the sleep of many was disturbed by the thought of that Nibelung's -treasure, so near at hand, and yet so impossible to obtain. - -George was indifferent to the gems, as he thought that Lesbia's eyes -were brighter and much more beautiful. He left the gallery while Tait -was displaying his hoard, and retired to the very comfortable bedroom -which Maud's care had provided. As a mere clerk he should not have had -such luxurious surroundings, or, indeed, have been in the splendid -house at all; but she loved him, and could not do enough for him. -Therefore, George was housed like a king, and, after the manner of -youth, took his comforts easily. It never occurred to him that in his -humble position he had no right to be pampered and petted. By right of -good looks and delightful manners, he had hitherto gone through the -world very much spoiled by the fair sex. He therefore took everything -as his right. - -While waiting for three to strike from the stable clock--it was now -two--he seated himself before the fire and, lighting a pipe, gave -himself up to dreams of Lesbia. In one way or another he was -determined to make her his wife, but it was difficult to see how he -proposed to keep her on his small salary, particularly when much of -that same salary was required to support his mother. - -But that George indulged in the rosy dreams of youth and had such a -profound belief in the kindness of fortune, he would have dismissed -his proposed marriage as an impossibility. Hale was against it, and so -was Sargent: his mother did not approve of the marriage, and there was -Maud Ellis to be considered. A more hopeful man may well have been -despondent: but not George. He felt sure that everything would come -right, and that life was a fairy-tale in which the fated prince--who -was himself--carried off the lovely princess--who, of course, was -Lesbia. And she was in an enchanted castle--so he glorified Rose -Cottage--watched by two dragons, Canning and Mrs. Petty--but helped -also by a faithful dwarf, by name Tim Burke. Finally, there was Mr. -Hale as the wicked magician to be reckoned with, and perhaps Maud -might act as the malignant fairy; but somehow the marriage would be -brought about, and in some way sufficient money would be provided, so -that the prince and princess could live happily ever afterwards. - -Lesbia would not have thought in this comfortable fashion in the face -of such obstacles as barred the way to the altar: but then she was -much more practical than her lover, in spite of the fact that she -dwelt in seclusion, while he battled in the work-a-day world. - -And then, as George fondly imagined he had discovered a few hours -previously, Maud Ellis was not the wicked fairy after all. Rather was -she about to play the agreeable part of the fairy-godmother, and bring -together two lovers parted by adverse circumstances. - -When Maud afterwards thought of the trust George placed in her she -wondered at his folly, and had a contempt for his upright character -that could estimate human nature so highly. But George never doubted -for one moment but that the appointment was made in all good faith and -for the express purpose of helping his suit with Lesbia. He therefore -waited impatiently for the striking of the clock. Only once did it -cross his mind as odd that Maud should choose that hour and that -meeting-place to forward his interests, since she could easily have -spoken to him in a convenient place and at a becoming hour in the -morning. But he brushed this thought aside as unworthy of her kind -heart, and when the hour of three chimed out, he opened his door -softly and slipped out to keep his appointment. - -George had stayed so frequently at the Henley mansion that he knew his -way to the picture-gallery exceedingly well. Also, it was Mr. Tait's -hobby to have the corridors and many of the rooms lighted in a subdued -manner all night. It prevented burglary, he declared, and certainly -the sight of an illuminated house would daunt those who prefer to work -in darkness or only by the light of a bull's-eye. - -George, therefore, found himself in a soft glow when he emerged from -the bedroom and stole on tip-toe towards the head of the stairs. Here -he descended and took his way towards the back of the house to the -picture-gallery. This portion of the great mansion was not lighted, -which seemed odd, remembering what Mr. Tait said about light scaring -burglars, and seeing also that the safe was placed here. But whatever -was the stockbroker's whim, George found the long gallery in darkness, -and as he had entered by a door placed directly in the middle of it, -he halted there doubtfully. He could see no light, save what filtered -through the sky-lights, and did not know where Maud waited for him. At -the far end of the gallery were double glass doors, leading down steps -into the gardens. These were usually shuttered at night, but George -noted with some surprise by the gleam of starlight which came through -them that on this special night the shutters had not been put up. This -was strange, considering the valuables which were concealed in the -safe; but then, as the young man reflected, it was also strange that -Tait should place his treasure-house at the other end of the gimcrack -gallery, which could be so easily broken into. But, after all, on -the authority of Poe's tale of the Purloined Letter, the more unlikely -a place in which valuables are hidden the safer they are. Not one of -the London fraternity of thieves would believe that the wary -stockbroker would be so foolish as to place his safe or strong-room, -or treasure-house, or whatever he liked to call it, in such a -locality. Therefore, no creature of the night would come to rob. There -was considerable method in Tait's apparent madness after all. - -But George had scanty time for such reflections, as the hours were -swiftly moving towards dawn, and he yet had to converse with Maud. His -eyes grew more accustomed to the semi-darkness of the gallery, and he -glanced up and down to see if he could espy the darker form of the -girl. - -At this moment he heard the clink of metal upon metal. The sound came -from the direction of the strong-room, and, as he turned his gaze -thereto, he suddenly saw a vivid stream of light, proceeding -apparently from a bull's-eye. In a flash it struck him that the -strong-room was being burgled, and almost without thinking he uttered -a loud cry and sprang forward to lay hands on the thieves. - -The light disappeared as he raced up, and when within measurable -distance of the safe he stumbled over a body, motionless on the floor. -It was that of a woman, as Walker could tell by the draperies he -mechanically clutched in his fall. Before he could pick himself up, -two dark forms dashed past him towards the glass doors. George, -anxious only to lay hands on the thieves, ran down the gallery at -their heels and left the woman where she was. The intruders easily -opened the double doors, which evidently had been left ajar. - -George followed, and saw two men race across the lawn and into the -belt of trees which girdled Mr. Tait's mansion. As he increased his -speed he shouted loudly for assistance. - -By and by, lights were seen moving in the upper windows of the great -house, and into the corridors poured many guests and servants, all in -various stages of undress, and all scared by the midnight alarm. Tait, -with a dressing-gown thrown hastily over his burly form, pushed his -way through the throng down the stairs, and the guests streamed after -him. Everyone knew what was the matter, for a wakeful servant had -heard the shout of "Thieves!" and the ominous word had hastily passed -from lip to lip. - -"I expect my jewels are gone!" panted Tait, waddling towards the -gallery at the head of a picturesque mob. - -In a second the electric lights were turned on and the gallery blazed -with light. Tait uttered a cry of alarm, which was echoed by those -behind him, and there was cause for surprise. The door of the -strong-room stood wide open, and some distance away lay the insensible -body of Maud Ellis, dressed in the attire she had worn during the -previous evening. While some of the ladies attended to the girl, Tait -with surprising agility plunged into the strong-room, and then they -heard him bellow bull-like in mingled rage and astonishment. A moment -later he emerged. - -"The jewels are gone! the jewels are gone!" he shouted, purple with -wrath. "Here, some of you, go to Henley for the police; search the -grounds, examine the house, and----" - -"The doors are open, sir," cried a footman. - -"The thieves must have escaped. After them! after them!" bellowed -Tait, in a frenzy of rage. - -"Your niece, man, your niece," said a gentleman who was supporting the -unconscious Miss Ellis; but Tait only swore the more. - -"Confound my niece. I have lost twenty thousand pounds' worth of -jewels." - -Several people looked disgusted at this callousness. A young doctor, -who was stopping in the house, and who was feeling Maud's pulse, -looked up. "Miss Ellis has been chloroformed," he remarked quietly. - -Tait bent down and lightly touched the gold chain which was round the -girl's neck. "The key of the strong-room is gone," he cried furiously. - -"No doubt," explained the medical man. "Miss Ellis has been rendered -insensible and then was robbed of the key. But who----" - -"How did Maud come to be here at this hour?" demanded Tait savagely. -"Go for the police, some of you," he shouted, stamping furiously. "I'm -not going to lose a fortune in this way." - -"It's useless; the thieves have escaped," cried a voice at the end of -the gallery, and George bounded in at the open door. - -"Walker," cried the stockbroker, recoiling. "What are you doing here? -What do you know about this?" - -"I came downstairs and heard the thieves at work," explained George -quickly. "I tried to lay hands on them, but tumbled over the body of a -woman on the floor, and----" - -"It is Miss Ellis," said the young doctor, looking up. "Do you know -how she came to be here?" - -George hesitated. He could not--for the sake of Maud's reputation--say -that she had appointed a meeting with him, and did not know how to -explain. - -Tait noted his momentary hesitation, and turned on him furiously. "How -do you come to be here?" he demanded. "What makes you wander about my -house when everyone is in bed?" - -"Ah," said Mr. Hale, pushing his way through the frightened crowd, -"that is very suspicious. Speak out, Walker!" - -"I heard a noise and came down," cried George, making the first excuse -which entered his head. - -"No one else heard a noise," remarked Sargent, who was at Tait's -elbow. - -"I was wakeful," retorted Walker sharply; but on every hand he saw -incredulous looks, and realised with a chill that he was suspected. - -Tait grunted, and looked at the young man with a lowering brow. "Who -are the thieves?" he demanded. "How many of them are there?" - -"I saw two men, but could not catch a glimpse of their faces. I think -they were masked," said George readily, and again saw disbelief -written on the faces around him. "But may I suggest, Mr. Tait, that -you send for the police at once. The thieves made for the wood round -the house and may escape." - -"I daresay they have escaped," grunted Tait, savagely. "The servants -are searching the gardens. Meanwhile let us revive Maud, and hear what -she has to say." - -"She is coming round now," said the doctor, and even as he spoke, Maud -opened her eyes in a vague, unseeing way. - -"Carry her up to bed," said Tait harshly. "I'll have an inquiry made -into this as soon as dawn comes and the police arrive. Meanwhile you -can all retire. Mr. Walker, remain here and explain." - -"I have explained," said George proudly. "I have nothing more to add." - -Tait shook his head doubtfully, and whispers went round, which -indicated suspicion of the truth of Walker's explanation. By this time -Maud, more or less sensible, was on her feet. Her eyes wandered here -and there until they alighted on the young man. - -"You!" cried Miss Ellis, with a loud wail. "Oh, George, you!" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII -UNDER A CLOUD - - -There was very little sleep for anyone during the remaining hours of -darkness, and after breakfast--an unusually dismal meal--the guests -one and all showed a desire to get away from their host. - -Mr. Tait certainly was not amiable, since he had suffered so great a -loss, and growled like a bear with a sore head. Not being a gentleman, -he could not control his temper, and made himself so openly -disagreeable, that everyone wanted to leave forthwith. But until the -police had made inquiries, it was impossible for either man or woman -to depart without becoming suspected. - -Throughout that wretched Sunday, the men were miserable and the ladies -hysterical. Tait, no longer the jolly Silenus, or even the gracious -Mammon, moved amongst his friends with looks of suspicion for all. - -The police duly arrived, and searched the gardens and the house, but -in no way could they trace the thieves. George stuck persistently to -his story, which, of course, was true, save for the excuse which he -gave for coming down the stairs. And it was this false portion--this -weak subterfuge--which made Mr. Tait suspicious. He knew that George -was hard up, and said as much to him in a quiet corner. - -"What has my being a pauper to do with your loss?" demanded Walker, -firing up on the instant. - -Tait shook his bullet head and scowled with his little pig eyes. "My -jewels are worth twenty thousand pounds," he retorted. - -"I don't care if they are worth twenty millions," said George, turning -pale, for he realised his employer's meaning. "I know nothing about -them." - -"You were in the gallery when----" - -"I came down to the gallery because I heard a noise," interrupted -Walker furiously. "I told the police the story I told you. I did my -best to catch the thieves, and now you have the audacity to accuse -me." - -"I don't exactly accuse you----" - -"It looks very like it." - -"You must admit that your conduct is suspicious," protested the -stockbroker. - -"I admit nothing of the sort." - -"People don't wander about a house after everyone is in bed, without a -reason," snapped Tait, with a searching glance. - -George bore the scrutiny without flinching. "I have explained how I -came to be wandering about," he declared proudly. "I was sitting by my -fire, and on hearing a suspicious noise I came down, with what result -you know. How dare you accuse me?" - -"I tell you again that I don't accuse you," vociferated Tait crossly. -"But you have acted foolishly to say the least of it." - -"How else could I have acted?" - -"On hearing the noise you should have aroused me." - -"Had I done so I should not have been in time to see the thieves." - -"What good did you do by seeing them, since they have escaped? That -is," added Tait slowly, "if there were two men. Stop!" he threw up his -fat hand as the young man was about to speak angrily; "it is no use -going round the bush. You may be innocent or you may not be. Your -story may be true or it may be the reverse." - -"Mr. Tait"--George held his temper under by mere force of will--"why -should I rob you?" - -The stockbroker opened his pig's eyes. "Why!" he demanded in -amazement, "do I not know that you are desperately poor? Didn't -Hale tell me only the other day that you wanted to marry his daughter, -and could not do so for want of money? Oh, there are plenty of reasons -why you should take twenty thousand pounds' worth of jewels. They -can be unset and sold, in which case they will be difficult to -trace. Had they been bank-notes, I don't believe that this -burglary--so-called--would have taken place." - -George curled his lip. "You put things very clearly, sir," he said -quietly, "and on the face of it, I admit that my conduct looks a -trifle suspicious." - -"A trifle!" cried Tait scornfully. "Very good indeed. A trifle! Why -not admit that you came down to steal the jewels, and went out to bury -them in some safe place, returning, when the alarm was given, to tell -us this cock-and-bull story of two thieves?" - -George winced and grew white at this very plain speaking. But he kept -his temper, for to have lost it at the moment would have been -dangerous. He saw very well that he was in a tight place. - -"I ask you only one question, Mr. Tait," he said calmly. "Who gave the -alarm?" - -"I do not know," said the stockbroker sullenly. "I heard a cry of -thieves, and help, and blue murder, and came down to find everyone -else aroused." - -"Then I may tell you that I gave the alarm, sir." - -"_You_ say so," sneered the other. - -"I say so because it is true," rejoined Walker, throwing back his head -indignantly. "I shouted in the gallery when I saw the light, and I -cried out again when I followed the thieves. I lost them when they -bolted into the wood girdling this place. Now, I ask you, sir, would I -have given the alarm had I been guilty?" - -"No--_if_ you gave the alarm, that is. But I don't believe you did." - -"In other words you think that I am guilty?" - -"Upon my word, Walker, it looks very much like it." - -"Then why not hand me over to the police?" - -The stockbroker moved uneasily and wiped his damp, red face. "Your -mother is an old friend of mine," he said hesitatingly; "I think of -her." - -"That is very good of you," said the ungrateful George; "but I would -rather you believed in my innocence. I have no wish to hide myself -behind any woman's petticoats." - -"Not even behind Maud's?" - -"I don't know what you are talking about," said George stolidly, -determined to hold his peace about the lady even to her uncle. "Miss -Ellis and I are very good friends, nothing more." - -"You know that she loves you. I should never have asked a mere clerk -from my office here, but that she loved you. I disapproved of her -infatuation, but I gave in to her since I am your mother's friend." - -"You are slightly incoherent, sir, and entirely wrong. Miss Ellis and -I are friends; nothing more. And to return to the subject of the -burglary, may I remind you that the police have discovered that the -safe was not broken into, but that the door was opened with a key? The -key, I notice, is still on your watch-chain. How then could I have -opened the safe?" - -"Perhaps you think that I stole the jewels myself?" sneered Tait -coolly. "I may remind you, in my turn, that Maud also has a key." - -George sprang to his feet and clenched his hand. "You dare to -insinuate that I got it from Miss Ellis, and----" - -The door opened as he spoke, and Tait, who was facing it, glanced over -the young man's shoulder. "Here is Maud for herself. Perhaps she will -explain." - -It was indeed Miss Ellis, looking very white and pinched. Her eyes -were red-rimmed, her mouth was drooping, and she confessed to a -headache, which was not to be wondered at, seeing what she had gone -through. - -"That chloroform is horrible stuff," complained Maud, sinking into a -chair. - -"Have you seen the inspector?" said Tait, giving his niece very little -sympathy for her wan looks. - -"Yes; I have told him all I know." - -"Perhaps you will repeat what you have told him to your uncle, Miss -Ellis," remarked Walker, still standing very stiff and very proudly. -"He has accused me of getting the key from you to rob the strong-room, -and swears that I have buried the jewels somewhere in the garden." - -"That is absurd," said Maud, looking at her uncle, while a red spot of -colour burned on either pale cheek. "I don't believe that you have -anything to do with the matter." - -"Then what did you mean by addressing Walker as you did, when you -revived in the gallery?" demanded Mr. Tait sharply. - -"I simply said, 'Oh, George, you!'" said the girl quietly; "and that -because I felt glad he was there to help me." - -"He didn't help you in the least," remarked Tait grimly. - -"He would have had I asked him," she retorted. "Would you not, Mr. -Walker?" - -"Certainly." - -"It's not George this time, then," muttered the stockbroker. "Well, -Maud, perhaps you will tell me what you were doing in the gallery." - -Maud's eyes sought those of the man she loved, but she replied without -hesitation. "I'll tell you what I did not tell the police, uncle. The -inspector believes that I came down because I heard a noise." - -"Like Walker here." - -"He did not come down for that reason." - -Tait looked at George with triumph in his eye. "I thought not," he -said. - -"If he said that he did, he said so to shield me," pursued Miss Ellis, -and looked gratefully at the confused young man. - -"What do you mean by that, Maud?" asked Tait tartly. - -"I made an appointment with George in the picture-gallery at three in -the morning, as I wished to help him to marry Lesbia Hale." - -"Why, I thought you loved Walker yourself!" cried the astonished -stockbroker. - -"So I did--so I do," breathed Miss Ellis, drooping her sandy head. -"But, to my mind, love means sacrifice. George--for I have the right -to call him so now--George would not have been happy with me, as he -loved Lesbia Hale, so I arranged to give him up to her, and to make -things right with her father. For that reason I waited for him in the -gallery. There I was suddenly pounced upon, and a handkerchief soaked -in chloroform was clapped over my mouth. I daresay the person who -did it, stole the key from the chain round my neck, and opened the -strong-room to steal the jewels. But I knew nothing from the moment I -became insensible until I revived to find you all standing round me. -That is the story I have told the inspector, save that I kept quiet my -appointment with George." - -"Then you believe him to be innocent," said the stockbroker, -confounded by the frankness of this story. - -Maud arose indignantly. "The man I love can never be guilty," she -cried. - -George blushed a rosy red. He saw that he had not behaved over well to -this brave girl, who had so cleverly exonerated him, although he -really had no reason to accuse himself of duplicity towards her. But -in a confused way he felt that she was heaping coals of fire on his -head, and was more drawn to her than he had ever been before. Here, -indeed, was a friend worth having. With Lesbia as his wife and Maud as -his friend, life would indeed be joyous. - -In his innocence it never struck the young man that no male can drive, -either in double harness or in tandem fashion, two women who both love -him. He thought that Maud, having discovered that the true meaning of -love was sacrifice, behaved thus because of her newly-acquired -knowledge. "Thank you, Miss Ellis," he said simply, but his looks -implied volumes more. - -Tait was displeased. He had no grudge against George, whom he liked -well enough; but he did not like his solution of the mystery to be -thus upset. - -"You mean well, Maud," he said at length, "and you have shielded -Walker very cleverly. All the same, I cannot accept your explanation." - -Miss Ellis rose in alarm. "Uncle, do you mean that you will have Mr. -Walker arrested when you know that he is innocent?" - -"For his mother's sake I shall not do that," said the elder man; "but -if Mr. Walker will give back the jewels I will not dismiss him from my -office." - -"I have no jewels to give," cried George recklessly, and his face -flushed a deep red. "As to remaining in your office, do you think that -I would continue to serve a man who suspects me of such a wicked -crime? I shall never return to your office, Mr. Tait, nor shall I -re-enter your house until my innocence is made clear. If the police -arrest me----" - -"They will not do that," interrupted Maud quickly; "I promise you. -There is no evidence against you. I don't know who chloroformed me, -but you are innocent, I swear. My uncle will take no steps." - -"For Mrs. Walker's sake," interpolated the stockbroker unctuously. - -"So you can leave this house when you will," continued Maud, -"knowing--" she seized his hand--"that I at least, believe you -guiltless." - -"Thank you!" said George, and kissed her hand. "Mr. Tait, if you and -the police want me you know where to find me." And he stalked out of -the room with his head in the air. Maud Ellis looked after him with -hungry looks, and heaved a deep sigh when the door closed. - -Within the hour George had asked permission of the inspector to leave -the house, and obtained it. Whatever the guests believed, the police -apparently--thanks to Maud's report--accepted him as a wholly -guiltless person. He gave his address to the officer, so that he might -be called as a witness in the event of the thieves being brought to -book, and then shook the dust of that splendid Henley mansion from his -feet. - -He was glad to get away, for several people looked at him askance, and -evidently there was an uneasy feeling that he knew more than he would -confess. But no one hinted openly that he was concerned in the -robbery. It was merely thought that his presence in the gallery -required a more reasonable explanation than the weak one of having -heard a noise. Still, George could not help feeling that he was -suspected by the guests and servants, and it was gall and wormwood to -the proud young man that this should be the case. - -Walker carried his portmanteau down to the river, as he had rowed up -to Henley from Medmenham. It was now late in the afternoon, and with a -heavy heart he prepared to launch his boat and return. - -The news that he had to take to his mother was unwelcome, and he -wondered how she would receive the information that he had left Tait's -office. Mrs. Walker's circumstances were very desperate, as her income -was so small, and she greatly depended upon her son's earnings. The -present phase of things would be worse than ever, and George winced as -he contemplated the coming interview. - -Just as he was about to step into the boat, Mr. Hale, cigar in mouth, -sauntered up and addressed him. Walker was in no mood for -conversation, and would have pushed off with a curt nod, but that the -elder man uttered a sentence which made him pause indignantly. "So -Tait didn't have you arrested, Walker," said Mr. Hale cruelly. - -George turned pale, and looked straight at the speaker. "If you were -not Lesbia's father," he said quietly, "I should fling you into the -river for those words." - -"I quite believe you would and could," rejoined Hale, looking -admiringly at the splendid figure of the young man; "but that will not -make you any the more innocent." - -"If I were guilty--if Mr. Tait believed me to be guilty, I should have -been arrested long since," said Walker with an effort, "the mere fact -that I am permitted to leave the house shows that I am considered -guiltless." - -"Tait was always absurdly good-natured," said Hale coolly, again -risking a plunge into the river. - -George looked at him again. "You believe that I stole those jewels?" -he asked. - -"Of course I do. You made a lame excuse for being in the gallery at -night, and evidently went out after two pretended thieves so as to -hide your plunder. I didn't believe you had it in you. See what love -will do." - -"Love?" - -"Yes. You are poor; you want to marry Lesbia, and so tried the short -cut to wealth. Presently, when things have blown over, you will dig up -the jewels and sell them to some fence. Then you will come to me with -a cock-and-bull story about a legacy being left to you--perhaps you -will inherit that fifty thousand pounds which is waiting for your -mother's sister. Of course, knowing the source of your legacy I shall -say no." - -"You have said no already," replied Walker quietly, although he longed -to knock this sneering man of the world into the water. "Don't say any -more, sir, else I may forget that you are Lesbia's father." And George -took up his oars and pushed off into midstream. - -Hale lingered on the bank, still scoffing. "I shall tell Lesbia -everything, Walker," called out Mr. Hale, clearly and slowly. "She -will never marry you now, my dear burglar." - -The unhappy lover pulled swiftly down stream with those last words -ringing in his ears. Could he indeed trust Lesbia to continue her -engagement in the face of his being accused of a sordid crime? He knew -that she loved him as dearly as he loved her, and would go through -fire and water to prove that love. All the same, there was something -so mean and contemptible about stealing from a friend's house, that -even her great love might not be proof against her father's story. -George clenched his teeth and pulled for dear life in order to control -his emotion. He could do nothing in the face of all that had taken -place, save wait patiently. Trusting in Tait's friendship for his -mother and in Maud's loyalty, he knew that he would not be disgraced -openly: but the idea that Lesbia might believe him guilty was -desperately hard to bear. Still, she loved him, and he trusted in her -love. That was all he could do, for a glance around showed him that he -was helpless amidst the black circumstances which had so suddenly -environed him. - -Mrs. Walker heard a bald, blunt tale from George and said very little -in reply. Not even when he declared that he had thrown up his -situation did she rebuke him. On the contrary she rather applauded. - -"As my son," said the stern, cold woman, "you could do nothing else." - -"Then you do not believe that I am guilty?" - -Mrs. Walker looked at him scornfully. "Our relations as mother and son -have never been sentimental," she said quietly, "but you should know -me better than to ask me that." - -"Thank you, mother," said George simply, for such a speech meant much -from the Spartan woman, who was usually so reticent. - -"I want no thanks for being just," she remarked coldly. "What you have -to do is to clear your name by searching for these thieves." - -"How am I to do that?" - -"I leave it to your own cleverness. Meanwhile I shall see Mr. Jabez, -and get him to advance us sufficient to live on until your name is -cleared and you have got another situation. As to this girl, Lesbia, -give her up." - -"Never! Never! Never!" said George. His mother looked at him coldly -and disapprovingly, and left him in silence. - -But matters turned out as she wished. Within three days a tearful note -came from a distraught girl to her anxious lover--a note of a few -words--"I believe you to be innocent but we can never marry, and we -must never meet again," said the note, and it was signed stiffly -"Lesbia Hale." - - - - -CHAPTER IX -TWO GIRLS - - -If the course of true love did not run smoothly with George, the girl -he loved found it speeding roughly also. - -Lesbia was as anxious to see her lover as he was to meet her; but -parental displeasure and parental authority stood like a wall between -this new Pyramus and Thisbe--a wall which could by no means be -overleaped. - -As Tim had informed George, his master had engaged Mrs. Petty as a -housekeeper, and so the domestic arrangements of Rose Cottage were -temporarily removed from the hands of Lesbia. Also, in conjunction -with The Shadow, Mrs. Petty acted both as a spy and a gaoler. It was -infamous, as Lesbia felt, that she should be watched in this fashion; -but as she had no money and no friends and no place whither she could -go, there was nothing left for it but to wait, until such time as Mr. -Hale became more reasonable. - -Mrs. Petty was a stout, plethoric woman, with an aggressive manner and -a loud, common voice, who probably had been a Margate lodging-house -keeper of the worst description. She was a born bully, and within ten -minutes of her entry into the house Tim learned to loathe her with all -the fervour of an Irishman, impatient of restraint in any form. - -Mrs. Petty tried similar tactics and treatment on Lesbia, but was met -so firmly, and put in her place so quietly, that--being a coward at -heart, as all bullies are--she left the girl as severely alone as was -possible, while executing Mr. Hale's instructions. These were to keep -a strict eye on his daughter, and to prevent the intrusion of George -Walker. Mrs. Petty, after several rebuffs, contented herself by -watching from afar, and managed by always being on the spot when -Lesbia least expected her, to fulfil her contemptible duty. For the -rest of the time she worried Tim and looked after the domestic economy -of the cottage. - -The Shadow, as became his nickname, was a less aggressive personage. -He was really called John Canning, and formerly had acted as valet to -Captain Sargent. But that gentleman, being anxious to marry Lesbia -whom he greatly admired, and hating George as a too-handsome and -over-young rival, had suggested to his friend Hale that Canning should -act as an inoffensive dragon to keep away the young man. Hale quite -approved of this, as Canning could guard the garden, while Mrs. Petty -kept watch on the girl in the house itself. Canning, therefore, glided -unostentatiously into his position and, although Lesbia disliked the -creature because he carefully kept George away, she had not the same -hatred for him that she cherished for Mrs. Petty. At his worst Canning -was a harmless individual, condemned to do the dirty work of others, -because he had not sufficient brains to earn an honest wage in an -honest manner. - -His nickname had been given him because of his marvellously thin -looks, and these were certainly remarkably noticeable. At one time, as -he confessed to Lesbia, he had exhibited himself in a travelling -caravan as The Living Skeleton, but having slightly increased in -weight he had been discharged. What his leanness must have been -originally it is hard to say, as even now, he was but skin and bone -and, being tall, looked like a line--that is, he was length without -breadth. His hands resembled a bird's claws, his legs were like -sticks, and his skull would have served for a death's head, so devoid -was it of flesh. With his lean, clean-shaven face, with his straight, -jet-black hair, which he wore rather long, and with his skinny, -lengthy, narrow figure encased in shabby broad-cloth, he looked -positively uncanny, and rude boys made remarks about him when he -walked abroad. He glided about like a shadow, haunted shady corners -like a shadow, and spoke in a whisper as a shadow should. The name -fitted him exactly, and he looked a creature of the night, quite out -of place in the cheerful sunshine. - -Lesbia did not approve of him at first, for obvious reasons, and even -disliked him actively when she found how he dogged her footsteps. But -it so happened that the gods chose to turn her heart to a friendless -man, and the consequences of the change were more far-reaching than -she guessed at the moment. - -The days went by very heavily, since her heart was with George and she -could not see him. Certainly she contrived through the ever-faithful -Tim to get a note transmitted to him--the same that George read on the -river. And under cover of Tim's name he sent an answer which assured -her that he was still faithful and still loving and ever hopeful of -better days. Lesbia carried about that letter in her bosom day and -night and read it when she felt particularly down-hearted, which -happened not infrequently. She also waited and she also hoped. Then an -event occurred, which in after-time showed how mysteriously things -work out to their hidden ends. - -The Shadow fell ill in spite of the warm summer weather. Being of a -sickly constitution, he unexpectedly caught influenza, and was forced -to go to bed in the little room near Tim's sanctum. Hale, who had a -horror of sickness, at once decided to turn him out; but Sargent, also -afraid, refused to permit the valet to return to his Cookham house. -There appeared to be no refuge for the miserable man but the hospital -or the workhouse, until Lesbia suddenly asserted herself and insisted -upon nursing him back to health. Mr. Hale objected, but his daughter, -for the first time in her life remained firm and, having already -sufficient troubles on his hand without creating more, he yielded in -the end. Moreover, he thought that acting as a sick-nurse would give -Lesbia something to do and take her thoughts away from George. So she -was permitted to nurse Canning, while Mr. Hale betook himself to -Tait's sumptuous mansion at Henley. - -Mrs. Petty declined to look after the sick man, so Lesbia took full -charge of the case, and was assisted by Tim. Not that Tim approved of -The Shadow: but, being tender-hearted, he considered him a poor -creature, and so acted the part of the Good Samaritan. - -Canning grew delirious and seemed in danger of passing away: but -Lesbia set herself to struggle with death, and in the end she -conquered. - -When the man was sane again and rapidly regaining his strength, Tim -told him all that the young mistress had done. It was then that the -Irishman saw two big tears roll down the thin cheeks of the spy. - -When Lesbia entered to see how he was, he spoke weakly but to the -point. "I have been kicked about all my life," said The Shadow -brokenly, "and no one has ever said a kind word to me. Mr. Hale and -Captain Sargent have treated me worse than a dog, and but for you, -Miss Lesbia, I should have been thrown out to die in the street. You -hate me because I was set to watch you----" - -"I don't hate you now, Canning," she interposed, hastily. "After all, -you only performed the duty you were set to do by my father." - -"And by Captain Sargent," whispered The Shadow. "Don't forget Captain -Sargent. I never shall," and his weak hand clenched under the -coverlet. "But you have acted like an angel, Miss Lesbia, and some day -I may be able to repay you for what you have done." - -"I only did my duty," said the girl, tucking him in. - -"You are the first woman or man who has ever done duty by me in this -world," said Canning, the tears rolling down his face. "I know what I -know, and some day you may want my help. You shall have it. Yes! you -shall have it at whatever cost." - -"What do you know?" she asked wonderingly. - -"Never mind." He turned his face to the wall. "When the time comes, -call upon me, and I will help you." - -Nothing more was said at the moment, as the man was not sufficiently -recovered to talk much. Lesbia thought occasionally of what he had -said, but could not entirely understand his meaning, unless it was -that he would shut his eyes to the coming of George, should that young -man choose to risk a visit. But the days went by and George did not -come, for, as Canning was sick, Mrs. Petty kept a very strict watch on -the girl. - -Gradually the words of the sick man were forgotten by Lesbia and, when -he went away entirely recovered, she forgot him, having more important -matters to think about. - -It was shortly after Canning's departure that Hale returned from -Henley with a story which made Lesbia write--and write willingly--the -letter of dismissal, which had broken Walker's heart. After she sent -it away her father patted her shoulder, and spoke kindly to her. - -"You are now acting as a sensible girl," he said, with chill -politeness; "and there is no longer any need for Mrs. Petty to remain. -I know that you do not like her, so I shall send her away this -evening. Canning has also gone and will not return. Things can revert -to their original course, and you can manage the house along with Tim. -But remember, Lesbia, that if your heart softens towards this scamp, I -shall recall both The Shadow and Mrs. Petty to watch over you." - -Lesbia, with a white face and set lips, looked straight at her father. -"I will neither write to George again, nor will I see him," she said, -with a stifled sob. "But whatever you say about his guilt, remember -that I do not believe it. He is innocent." - -"Then why not stick by him?" asked her father cruelly. - -"You know well enough why I do not: why I cannot. George and I are now -entire strangers, and must remain so until the mystery of this -burglary is cleared up." - -"It will never be cleared up, because there is nothing to clear up," -said her father calmly. "George stole those jewels of Tait's for your -sake, and it is only Tait's friendship for his mother and Maud's kind -heart that prevented Walker being arrested and condemned as a thief." - -Lesbia's lip curled. "I mistrust Miss Ellis's kind heart," said she. - -Hale shrugged his thin shoulders. "You can do what you like about -that," he remarked carelessly, "but remember that she holds George in -the hollow of her hand. All you have to do is to forget him and marry -Sargent." - -"No!" said Lesbia positively. "I shall never see George again, since -circumstances are too strong for him and for me. But I will never -marry Captain Sargent. Be sure of that." - -"He loves you, and----" - -"I don't love him. Say no more, father. What I say, I stand by." - -"You said much before which you have not held by," retorted Hale, his -temper rising; "and circumstances may prove too much for you. However, -Sargent can wait, and so can I. Meanwhile, since you have dismissed -this young fool, you are free to come and go as you desire." - -"One moment," said Lesbia, as her father turned on his heel, "what -about that amethyst cross?" - -Hale wheeled round with a colour in his parchment cheeks, and a -suspicious look in his cold, grey eyes. "What do you mean?" - -"You declared that if George recovered the cross, he could marry me." - -"I hold to that, since I am not a man to go back on my word." - -"But how can I marry George when you say that you can prove he is -guilty of this burglary?" - -"Maud Ellis can prove it, not I," returned Mr. Hale. He paused and bit -his lip hard. "I believe in the face of Walker's new escapade that he -knows who took that cross. His former behaviour may have been a sham, -as was his acting in the gallery. Let him bring me the cross, and -perhaps after all he may be able to marry you," - -"I shall never marry him until his character is cleared," said Lesbia -firmly. - -Hale shrugged his shoulders again. "You will find it difficult to -clear him, my dear," he sneered, and went away. - -Mr. Hale would have spoken rightly in connection with a less -determined girl. But Lesbia, for all her fragile looks, was very -determined and also very much in love with George Walker. Appearances -were against him, and, judging by circumstantial evidence, he -certainly was guilty. But Lesbia could not bring herself to believe -that the man she loved had sunk to being a common thief. Now that she -was free to leave the cottage and wander whither she would, it was an -easy matter to seek out George at Medmenham, and ask direct questions. - -But this Lesbia did not do, because her father had detailed fully all -that Walker had said and all that he had done, so there was no more to -learn in that quarter. Moreover, Hale had stated with a sneer that -Maud Ellis was desperately in love with the young man, and Lesbia -recalled George's hesitation about speaking of his desire to leave -Tait's office. "There are other things to be considered," Walker had -said, and then had blushed. Now the girl knew intuitively that he -referred to Maud Ellis. - -Lesbia's face grew flushed and angry as she thought of her rival. She -trusted George, who was her very own, but instinctively she knew the -wiles of women, and dreaded lest her letter of dismissal should throw -the young man into the arms of the stockbroker's niece. Thus it came -about that Lesbia's meditations led her, not to Mrs. Walker's cottage -at Medmenham, but to the splendid mansion at Henley, where Maud Ellis -was waiting for George to come to her. - -Maud had learned from Mr. Hale that George had received his letter of -dismissal from Lesbia, and so waited to catch him on the recoil. He -would certainly come back to her who had so boldly stood by him when -he had been accused. But as the days went by George did not come, and -Maud's heart grew sick, for she was honestly in love. - -Her uncle was absent in the City, still seeking for the lost jewels, -and the local police together with a couple of detectives from -Scotland Yard were doing their best to solve the mystery. But all -efforts were in vain. No trace had been found of the thieves, and the -jewels could not be recovered. Tait invited no more people to his -Henley mansion, and remained a great deal in London grumbling over his -loss. Maud would have gone up also, but that she waited vainly at home -in the hope that George would come to her for consolation. - -One afternoon while she was thus waiting, and had arrayed herself in -her prettiest frock on the chance of a visit, the footman intimated -that a young lady wished to see her. She had no card, said the -footman, and had simply stated that her name was Miss Lesbia Hale. - -Maud's eyes flashed when she heard the name of her rival, and she -ordered the man to lead the guest at once to the long drawing-room. -Miss Ellis was desperately anxious to see the face that had captured -the heart of George Walker. Before repairing to the drawing-room, she -altered a few things about her dress, for, being very much the woman, -she knew that she was about to meet a dangerous foe. A man would not -notice a dress overmuch, but a woman would, at the very first glance, -and Maud was determined that there should be no flaw in her armour, so -far as frocks and frills went. - -Lesbia, very pale, but quite calm, waited impatiently for the -appearance of Miss Ellis. When that young lady sailed into the room -with outstretched hands and a beaming smile, Lesbia rose with a stony -face and a cold, distant manner. Maud's hands fell, when she saw that -she was being kept at a distance, and she became formal also. In her -heart she grew angry, when she saw Lesbia's beauty, for being very -sensible, she knew that her own looks were much inferior. A shade -passed over her face, but soon was replaced by a malicious smile. Maud -knew that, beauty or no beauty, she held the trump card and could win -the game at her leisure. Lesbia saw that smile. - -"I know why you look like that," she said abruptly. Maud straightened -her neat figure, and raised her sandy eyebrows. - -"What a very strange speech to make at our first meeting, Miss Hale!" -she said, coldly and superciliously. - -"Ah," retorted Lesbia. "You see that I am not used to society." - -"Is there any occasion to tell me that?" asked Maud, sweetly. - -But Lesbia was too desperately in earnest to be daunted by such feline -talk. "There is no occasion to tell you many things," she said, "nor -is there need for beating about the bush. My father has told me -everything." - -"About what may I ask?" - -"About this burglary and about George." - -"George?" Miss Ellis raised her eyebrows again. "George?" she -repeated. - -"I have the right to call him so," rejoined Lesbia hotly. "I am -engaged to him, Miss Ellis." - -"Was engaged, I understand." - -"Yes." Lesbia suddenly looked fatigued and would have dearly liked to -sit down, but pride prevented her. Maud saw this and scratched again. - -"Won't you sit down?" - -"No, thank you!" replied Lesbia, stiffening. "I am only here for a few -minutes, and can say all that I have to say in that time." - -Miss Ellis flicked a scented handkerchief across her lips to hide a -smile, and looked searchingly at her visitor's white face. "I really -don't know why you talk to me like this." - -"Oh, yes you do. In the same way I knew why you smiled when you -entered. You think that you can win the game. But you shan't!" - -"What game?" - -"The game we play for George. My father has told me all. I love George -and you love him also." - -"Your father seems to be very well-informed," sneered Maud, flushing. - -"He usually is," Lesbia assured her, with great coolness. "It was only -when my father told me about this burglary, that I learned you loved -George." - -"I do love him!" cried Maud defiantly, "but I don't see that it -matters to you--now." - -"It matters a great deal," said Lesbia coldly. "I am only an -unsophisticated girl, Miss Ellis, but I don't intend to give up the -man I love, without a struggle." - -"I understand that you have given him up." - -"For the time being, until I can force you to prove his innocence." - -"Force me!" Miss Ellis raised her eyebrows for the third time, but her -face grew angry, for she did not like this very straight speaking. -"What have I to do with the matter? I believe that George is innocent -myself, and told my uncle so. Indeed, had I not stood up for George, -he would now be in gaol." - -Lesbia smiled contemptuously. "It's all part of the game," she -retorted. "I am a woman, not a man, Miss Hale, and I can see very -plainly how George walked into the trap you set for him." - -"I set no trap. And if George says----" - -"George says nothing. I have not seen him for a long time. But my -father told me how George was in the gallery and you also." - -"Did he tell you that George came to meet me?" asked Maud maliciously. - -"No, nor do I believe you." - -"Then he did." - -"It is a lie," said Lesbia, impolitely but very firmly. "I don't -believe it." - -"Ask George himself," cried Maud. "He will tell you that we had a -meeting at three in the morning and----" - -Lesbia, who was looking at her, gave an ironical laugh. "Oh, I believe -you now," she said slowly, "I can see the truth in your eyes. Yes, -George did meet you by appointment. Why, I don't know----" - -"Because he loved me." - -"He never loved you!" cried Lesbia furiously, and looked so angry that -Maud hastily stepped back a pace, thinking she would be struck. "He -loves me and me only. But you inveigled him into the gallery, into a -trap, and made use of this burglary to force him to be your husband." - -"I told my uncle that George was innocent." - -"Yes, because it suited your book to do so. But you told my father, -and he passed the message on to me, that if I did not dismiss George, -you would prove his guilt." - -Maud tore her handkerchief to ribbons. "And I can too," she said, -between her teeth. "You are quite right. To the world I should say -nothing; but to you I can say what I please. We love the same man. I -want him, and I am going to get him. I _did_ trap George into a -meeting, but the burglary was unforeseen. I can make use of it, which, -let me remind you, Miss Hale, I have not done yet. Remember I was -chloroformed, and the key was taken from my neck to open the safe. -What would be easier than for me to declare that George Walker asked -me to meet him in the gallery and rendered me insensible and stole the -jewels, after taking the key, and buried them in the garden, coming -back to tell falsehoods? If I speak----" - -"You won't speak." - -"I shall speak, rather than let George marry you," flashed out Maud. - -Lesbia sneered. "You remind me of the motto of the French Revolution," -she said. "'Be my brother or I'll kill you,' so George is to marry -you----" - -"Or go to gaol. Exactly!" - -"Thank you!" Lesbia moved swiftly to the door. "Now that I know your -intentions I can go." - -"What will you do?" Maud followed, aghast at this abrupt departure. - -"Prove George's innocence, and marry him." - -"Try!" said Maud, between her teeth, "try and fail." - - - - -CHAPTER X -THE _DEUS EX MACHINA_ - - -If Lesbia had been a trifle more versed in the ways of the wicked -world, she would have remained longer in conversation with Maud, if -only to learn about that lady's plans. Maud declared that unless -George became her husband she would have him put into gaol for the -burglary. But it was difficult to know how she intended to proceed. Of -course, she could declare that Walker had chloroformed her and had -stolen the key of the strong-room to steal the jewels, but she had no -one to prove the truth of her story, plausible as it was, in the face -of Walker's known presence in the picture-gallery. It was George's -word against Maud's and, therefore, the law would have no easy matter -to prove the young man's supposed guilt. - -But Lesbia was so hot with indignation at the discovery of Maud's mean -plot that she ended the interview abruptly, and walked quickly away -trying to stifle her rage. For George's sake it was necessary that she -should keep a clear head, and it was necessary also that she should -learn the truth of this conspiracy--as she verily believed it to be. - -Come what might, Lesbia decided in her own mind that George should -marry her. But to bring this about she had not only to clear his -character, but to find the amethyst cross and restore it to her -father. But where the cross might be she could not guess. The mystery -of the robbery and of George's presence in the cottage on that fatal -night had never been cleared up. - -Walking swiftly down to the river Lesbia thought over these things, -and thought still more when she entered Tim's boat. The little man had -rowed her up to Henley at her request, and took her back the same way. -She had detailed her reasons for visiting Miss Ellis, but had received -scanty comfort from Tim. He was disposed to take a gloomy view of the -matter. - -"It's the crass, bad luck to it!" groaned Tim, when she told him how -badly she had fared. "Sure there's nivir bin a moment's pace sinse it -was lost." - -"That is very true," rejoined Lesbia, steering the boat towards the -lock, and reviewing in her own mind the untoward circumstances which -had disturbed her life since the proposal of George in the garden. -From the time when the cross had been given to him, there had been -nothing but incessant trouble. Her father had raged, her lover had -been assaulted, her liberty had been curtailed, and George had lost -his situation through being accused of a sordid crime. And to crown -all, another woman, of whose existence she had scarcely heard, had -stepped in to claim Walker as her future husband. - -"It's very true," sighed Lesbia dolefully, "the cross has brought -nothing but trouble. If we could get it back again things might mend. -But the question is, how to recover it?" - -Tim bent to his oars, and shook his head with another groan. "Let it -bide, Miss, let it bide. Sure we don't want more kick-ups. Me mother, -rist her sowl, towld me that the crass wud bring lashins av worry whin -ye guv it off av yer hand. An' it's truth she spoke, me dear." - -"Do you know where she got the cross, Tim?" - -"Sure, Miss, an' didn't she tell ye whin she died? 'Twas yer mother's. -I know no more nor that, me dear, 'twas your mother's. As for Masther -Garge, cudn't ye forgit him, Miss?" - -"No!" cried Lesbia, indignantly. "I shall love George as long as I -live. I can no more forget him than he can forget me. Would you have -me marry Captain Sargent?" - -"Sure, an' I wudn't. He's a proud baste, an' if ye married him, me -dear, he'd be afther bringing me to the gallows, for his treatmint av -ye, Miss Lesbia." - -"Then don't let us talk any more about the matter," cried Lesbia, -impetuously. "I shall keep my faith with George." - -"Wud ye like to see him, Miss?" - -"No," said the girl promptly. "I told him in my letter that we must -never meet again. Nor will we until this mystery of the burglary is -cleared up. I intend to clear it up." - -"But how, Miss? Ye've no wan to help ye." - -Lesbia reflected. "There's The Shadow," she said quietly. - -"An' what wud that poor cratur be afther doing, Miss?" - -"I don't know. But he offered to help me, so I shall put his -professions of gratitude to the test. Tim, to-night you must go down -to Cookham and bring him back with you." - -"Augh!" groaned Tim, annoyed that anyone but himself should do -anything for his darling. "Sure he's out av the house, so let him -bide, me dear." - -"If you don't go to Cookham, I will," said Lesbia firmly. - -"An' have trouble wid that baste av a Captain? Me dear, I'll go." - -And Tim was as good as his word. Lesbia reached the cottage to find -that her father had left a note saying he had gone to London for a few -days. Hale was always stealing off on mysterious errands, possibly -connected with his equally mysterious business. - -Of late no odd characters had been coming to the cottage, but Hale was -absent much more frequently. On this occasion his absence was welcome, -as it gave Lesbia a chance of arranging her plans with Canning. What -these might be she had, as yet, no very clear idea. All she intended -to do was to explain the situation and ask The Shadow what was best to -be done. When she received his opinion, she could then take a step -forward into the veiling mists which surrounded her. - -While Tim rowed down to Cookham, which he did after landing Lesbia at -the bottom of the garden, the girl ran into the cottage. She found -that she had it all to herself as, true to his promise, Mr. Hale had -dismissed Mrs. Petty. That good lady, liking the easy place, had -retired in high dudgeon, and would have shown fight but that Hale -quelled her with a glance of his cold, grey eye. - -Hale, indeed, possessed a great power--perhaps a hypnotic power--over -those who came to the cottage. Had not Canning fallen sick, and thus -had been removed from his influence, it is very questionable if he -would have offered his services to Lesbia. However, he had done so, -and the girl was about to accept them gratefully. - -Lesbia passed the time in dressing herself for dinner, and in -partaking of it. It was a homely meal, consisting of cold meat and -salad, bread and cheese and a glass of prime claret. Afterwards -Lesbia made herself a cup of black coffee, and sat down in the tiny -drawing-room with a book, pending the arrival of The Shadow. But her -thoughts wandered from the printed page to George, and more than ever -she longed for his coming. It had cost her much to write the letter of -dismissal, but in the face of Maud's threat, as conveyed to her by -Hale, she could do nothing else. And the worst of it was that she had -not been permitted to assign a cause for what George must regard as -her heartless behaviour. - -However, and very luckily, she had scanty time for sad reflections, -for shortly she heard the hearty voice of Tim, as he entered the house -by the back door, and later the sibilant whisper of The Shadow. - -In a few minutes Canning presented himself, looking more lean and more -dismal than ever in his customary suit of black. But his haggard face -was lighted up with an eager smile. The mere fact that Lesbia had -decided to avail herself of his services made him as gay as such a sad -personage well could be. Canning was desperately anxious to repay the -kindness he had received. - -"I am glad to see you," said Lesbia cordially. "You lost no time." - -"No, Miss," whispered the grim man, who stood with long, hanging arms -at the door. "Captain Sargent went to London to-day with your father, -and I came back with Tim at once. I am so glad you want me to help -you, Miss." - -"I need your help very badly," sighed Lesbia, passing her hand across -her brow. "Will you not sit down, Canning." - -"In your presence, Miss? Please excuse me." - -"But you are yet weak after your illness. Sit down. I want you to." - -Thus urged, The Shadow sank softly on to the extreme edge of a -convenient chair placed near the door. Here he fixed his sad eyes on -the beautiful vision at the window, and adored in silence. - -Lesbia turned matters over in her mind. She knew that she would have -to speak very plainly, and had a natural reluctance to doing so, since -Canning was a servant and a stranger. - -Still, he was the sole person who could help her, as now that George -was out of her life, temporarily, at all events, she felt very lonely. -Her father neither gave her affection, nor desired any, and certainly -would not put out a hand to save George, much less clear his -character. Why should he, when he wanted Walker out of the way so that -his daughter could marry Sargent? - -Lesbia thought of these things with her eyes on the floor, and finally -determined to confess everything, as her plight and that of George was -too desperate to permit of over-nice feelings. - -With some colour, therefore, she related the whole story from the time -that Walker had proposed to the result of her visit to Maud. - -"I was forced to dismiss Mr. Walker," she said in addition, "because -my father came back to tell me that Miss Ellis had threatened to have -Mr. Walker arrested. I saw Miss Ellis also, as I have told you, and -she declares that she can prove Mr. Walker's guilt, and will do so -unless he marries her." - -Canning, with his sad eyes fixed upon her, heard the whole tale -without comment. At the end he nodded. "What do you wish me to do, -Miss?" - -"I want you to learn who committed this burglary at Mr. Tait's house, -so that Mr. Walker can be cleared." - -"But how can I do that, Miss, when I am servant to Captain Sargent? I -have my duties to consider." - -"I know that," Lesbia faltered, and became downcast, "and then you -have no experience in looking into these things. I am sorry you cannot -help me." - -"I did not say that, Miss." - -"Then you will?" - -The Shadow reflected, but did not take his eyes from her eager face. -"Yes!" he said at length. "I will help you." - -"Oh, Canning, thank you so much. But how?" - -"I can't say yet, Miss. In the first place I must leave Captain -Sargent." - -Lesbia rose impulsively. "I don't want you to lose your situation." - -"I had intended to give the Captain notice long ago," explained -Canning, rising in his turn. "What you say decides me. I shall go to -London, and in one way or another I may be able to learn who stole -those jewels." - -"But why in London? They were stolen at Henley." - -"Quite so, but the two thieves--if Mr. Walker is to be believed, there -were two--must have taken the jewels to dispose of them in London. -Leave everything to me, Miss. I was in an inquiry office once, and -know how to go about these matters. But," he hesitated, "it will -require money." - -"Oh!" Lesbia uttered an ejaculation of dismay. "I have none." - -"Can't your father give you some, Miss?" - -Lesbia shook her head. "He wants me to marry Captain Sargent, and so -will not allow me to help Mr. Walker. No, my father will give me -nothing. What is to be done?" - -"I don't know, Miss. But I have no money and I must have at least -fifty pounds to work on. I shall learn about the burglary first and -then will discover who knocked down Mr. Walker and stole the cross." -He paused. "Has Tim saved any money?" - -"No, poor soul," sighed Lesbia, "my father never pays him any wages. I -am sure he would lend me the money if he had it. There is no one from -whom I can borrow, and----" here a sudden idea came to the girl, and -she flushed crimson with mingled hope and nervous fear. "Oh!" she -cried, "he might, he might." - -"Who might, Miss?" asked the man sharply. - -Lesbia took no notice. "Fifty pounds," she murmured. "It's a large sum -of money. Still he might. He----" she stopped again as she saw The -Shadow looking at her curiously. "Go away, Canning, and return -to-morrow evening. I hope to have the fifty pounds by then." - -"Miss," Canning spoke slowly and impressively, "you have honoured me -with your confidence, and you will never regret doing so, as I am -entirely devoted to you. Add to that confidence by telling me from -whom you design to borrow this fifty pounds." - -"There is no reason why you should not know," said Lesbia quickly, "I -am thinking of Lord Charvington." - -"Mr. Hale's cousin." - -"Oh, you know that," she cried, surprised. - -"Yes," The Shadow laughed in his whispering, silent way, rather oddly. -"I know more than you give me credit for. You see," he added, slowly, -and with a downcast face, "I was at school with your father and -Charvington." - -"You," Lesbia gasped in astonishment, and stared at the lean, dusky, -untidy figure before her. Then she remembered the scrupulous -refinement of the man, noted anew his excellent diction, and suddenly -saw in the weird face and figure evidences of good breeding. - -"Mr. Canning," she said suddenly, and gave him a new position at once, -"you are a gentleman!" - -"I _was_ a gentleman," he replied bitterly, and dropping his use of -the word "Miss." "Now I am Captain Sargent's valet and a wastrel. But -I am also your very devoted servant, Miss Hale," he bowed. "Let it -remain at that." - -"But how did you come to----" - -"Don't ask me--don't ask me," said Canning hurriedly. "Some day you -will learn how I came to occupy this position. Meanwhile, get the -fifty pounds from Charvington"--Lesbia noted that he spoke quite as an -equal of the nobleman--"and give it to me. I shall save your lover and -make your path straight for you." - -"Can you do this, Mr. Canning?" - -"Yes," he answered simply. "Good-night, Miss Hale. Please do not tell -Tim what I have mentioned, and say nothing to Charvington. To-morrow -night I shall come for the fifty, and the----" he paused, opened and -closed his hand several times, and then vanished with a sigh. He might -indeed have been a veritable shadow from the noiseless way in which he -disappeared. - -Lesbia remained spell-bound. In a flash it occurred to her that she -should long ago have guessed that The Shadow was other than he -appeared to be. Many things which had puzzled her became plain, and -she wondered how a gentleman had sunk so low as to be a spy, and to -occupy the position of Sargent's valet. But she had too much delicacy -to question Canning, until such time as he chose of his own free will -to speak out. - -Besides, she had much to think about in connection with her proposed -borrowing of fifty pounds from Lord Charvington. And unless she could -procure that sum, there would be no chance of George being saved from -the clutches of Maud Ellis. - -The nobleman in question was a cousin of Mr. Hale's and had once or -twice been to the cottage. Indeed, Lesbia had reason to believe that -Lord Charvington allowed her father a certain sum every quarter, -although this seemed strange in the face of Hale's assertion that he -could give her two thousand a year if she married to his liking. There -was also the business in the City about which Lesbia knew nothing. Why -should a man in business accept an annuity? - -It was all very strange, but then everything connected with Mr. Walter -Hale was strange, and now that Lesbia began to think, she began to -mistrust her father. Why did he keep his business secret? Why did he -accept an annuity, and then declare that he could give her a large -income? Why did he have such shady people at the cottage whom he -scarcely permitted her to see? Altogether Lesbia became aware that -there was something sinister about her father's position. She felt -like a watcher of a black cloud waiting for it to discharge lightning. -More than ever did she determine at least to have the mysteries of the -burglary and of the cross cleared up. The old time of peace had passed -away for the girl, and now she felt that she would have to go forth -and do battle. - -With regard to Charvington, she knew him moderately well. He had -always been kind to her, and she had heard her father state that the -nobleman was her godfather. It seemed rather cool to apply to him for -a loan of fifty pounds, but Lesbia was not only desperate but also -very unsophisticated in worldly ways. - -Almost without considering what she was about, she wrote a hurried -letter asking him to lend her fifty pounds for six months, and -promised to explain later why she desired the loan. She proposed in -her own mind to repay the money by selling the amethyst cross when -Canning should get it back for her, as she believed he would. - -Of course the whole business was very naive and very childish, and a -girl more versed in worldly things would never have ventured to take -such a step. But Lesbia, just like a trusting child, asked for the -money, and posted her letter with a prayer that God would grant her -request. - -Like a newly-fledged gambler, who wins every game through sheer -ignorance, Lesbia's desperately-played card turned up trumps in four -and twenty hours. Lord Charvington sent her a cheque by return of post -and invited her to come and explain matters to him personally. Lesbia -danced with joy. - -"Now!" she said to herself. "George is safe. Thank God!" - - - - -CHAPTER XI -THE SEAMY SIDE - - -When Mr. Hale returned in three days from London, he was surprised to -find Lesbia extremely cheerful. She had every right to be, since she -had given the fifty-pound cheque to Canning, and he was now in town -looking into the matter of the Henley burglary. How Canning managed to -get away from his master so expeditiously, Lesbia could not tell, nor -did she inquire. It was quite enough for her to know that The Shadow -was searching into the case. To Lord Charvington she had sent a letter -thanking him for the money, and promising to come over and tell him -everything as soon as she could. These things made her hopeful and -bright in spite of her enforced severance from George, and she -managed, by looking towards a bright future, to possess her soul in -patience. But Hale was ignorant of what she was doing, and her -behaviour puzzled him. - -"I thought you loved Walker," he said abruptly, and with suspicion. - -"Of course I do," rejoined the girl cheerfully. - -"It does not seem like it." - -Lesbia shrugged her shoulders. "What is the use of crying over spilt -milk?" she asked. "My going about with a long face will not make -George's position any the more endurable. Some day when his character -has been cleared things will change." - -"They will never change," said Mr. Hale coldly and severely. "Walker -has committed a sordid crime, and can never marry you." - -"I don't believe that he is guilty," retorted Lesbia deliberately. -"And even if I grant for the sake of argument that he is, Miss Ellis -does not seem to think that his guilt is a bar to his marriage with -her." - -"She's a love-sick fool." - -"So am I." - -"With this difference, that she can marry him and you can't. And -talking of Miss Ellis," went on Hale, becoming more stern than ever; -"I saw her in London and she told me that you had actually been to see -her." - -"Why not?" asked Lesbia defiantly. "That is no crime." - -"It is an impertinence to see her and to talk to her as you did. Why -did you go, Lesbia?" - -"I wished to find out how she proposed to force George to become her -husband. I have learned that much. She intends to force him by telling -a lie." - -"How do you know that what she says is a lie?" demanded Hale angrily. - -"Because I read it in her eyes. A man would not have done so, but I am -a woman, and you can trust one woman to learn everything another woman -leaves unsaid, especially when a man is the stake between them." - -"You should have more modesty," snapped her father uncomfortably. - -Lesbia coloured. "I have behaved properly in every way," she said, in -a wounded voice; "and, as I love George, I had every right to learn -how this woman proposed to take him from me." - -"Well, you know now that she can." - -"She _thinks_ she can," said Lesbia, with emphasis; "that is -different." - -"Nonsense! She can prove that he took the key from her neck and stole -the jewels," insisted Mr. Hale. - -"It is her word against his," rejoined Lesbia drily; "and until Miss -Ellis proves the truth of her statement I believe in George's -innocence." - -"Lesbia," cried her father, rising, "what has come to you? Formerly -you used to be quiet and well-behaved and did as you were told; -now----" - -"Now," said the girl, getting on her feet and looking very straight at -her father; "now I am a woman, fighting for her happiness, and so will -do my best to hold my own against your tyranny." - -Hale did not like the word, and said so. "I am your father and no -tyrant." - -"You are both, and much more the latter than the former. I don't know -how it is," said Lesbia, pondering, "but I have an idea that you are -using me as a pawn in some game you are playing. Miss Ellis is in the -game also, and so is Captain Sargent. What the game may be I don't -know, and I decline to be pushed about a chess-board without knowing -why I move." - -"You shall do as you are told," said Hale, livid with secret rage, but -not daring to show it openly, lest he should lose more of his already -waning influence. - -"I shall do as I think fit," retorted the girl, her spirit up in arms. -"I don't care if you are fifty times my father, you shall not treat me -in this way any longer. If I can clear George's character, I shall see -him and marry him, and if you dare to bring in Mrs. Petty to spy on -me, I shall appeal to my godfather." - -"Your godfather. And who may he be?" - -"You told me once and I have never forgotten. Lord Charvington is -my----" - -"I spoke at random," broke in Hale hastily. "He is not your godfather. -He is nothing more than my cousin and my friend." - -"And your benefactor," said Lesbia, unable to resist the shaft. "And -being so, what will he say if he learns how unkindly you are -behaving?" - -"Lesbia, you are mad!" - -"No! For years I have been your puppet. Lately I have discovered that -I am a human being with a will of my own. So long as you leave me -alone I am content to behave as your daughter. But I decline to endure -tyranny, and I decline to be made use of in this mysterious game you -are playing. I am very glad you spoke to me this morning, father, as -it was time that we came to an understanding;" and Lesbia, with her -head up, marched out of the room. But she would have been scared had -she looked back and seen the expression on her father's face. It was -little less than devilish with rage and baffled cunning. - -The worm had been obedient for so long that Hale had never expected -the turning and it came upon him with a shock. He could not afford to -let Lesbia appeal for protection to his noble relative, as he knew -that Lord Charvington was the kindest of men and would, undoubtedly, -interfere. - -Of course in an ordinary case, Hale could have prevented such -interference between a father and daughter. But with Charvington, who -allowed him an annuity, it was different. If Hale did not behave well -to Lesbia, he felt very certain that Charvington would punish him by -taking away the quarterly sum. And in spite of his business in the -City, and his boast that he could give Lesbia two thousand a year, -Hale could not afford to lose so certain an income. - -He therefore said no more to Lesbia on the subjects of George and Miss -Ellis and the burglary. Nor did he bring back The Shadow and Mrs. -Petty. Indeed, he could not bring back the former, as he had heard -from Sargent that the man had thrown up his situation, and had gone to -London. - -This being the case, if Lesbia chose to see George it was impossible -to prevent her from having her own way. But Hale trusted that after -the letter of dismissal George would refuse to have anything to do -with the girl who had apparently thrown him over. Meanwhile he asked -Sargent to the cottage frequently, and advised him to prosecute his -wooing with all zeal. "If you don't secure the girl soon, you will -lose her," said Hale emphatically. - -"I shall do so as soon as I can get a chance of seeing her alone," -said Sargent, and strove to look the handsome, gallant lover. - -It was after dinner that he spoke thus; and in the light which came -through the rosy shades of the candles he seemed wonderfully young, -and not at all bad-looking. As usual, he was perfectly dressed in -evening array, and yet had that ultra-fashionable air, which is such a -mark of inferior breeding. Captain Alfred Sargent looked like a -gentleman, and yet there was something lacking in manner to complete -the dress and pretensions. The rosy lights made him look less -colourless for the moment; but when in pursuance of his object he -strolled into the garden to meet Lesbia, he became quite wan, white -and worn-looking in the warm summer moonlight. - -Miss Hale, in a simple white dress, looking sweet and girlish and -remarkably pretty, sat on the bench under the chestnut--in the -very place where George had made his memorable proposal. Disliking -Sargent as she did, and the more so since her father wished her to -marry him, she had early left the dinner-table to take refuge in this -love-haunted spot, and dream of George. - -With the inconsequence of a woman, she rather resented the fact that -her lover had not replied to his letter of dismissal. She had not -thought that he would accept her decision so readily, and in her heart -she desired that he should come along to take her by storm. At times -she fancied, indeed, that he would suddenly appear to carry her off to -the nearest church, and so frequently sought the garden to afford him -an opportunity to play "Young Lochinvar." - -There was also another reason. In the garden she hoped to meet The -Shadow. Lately, he had sent her a line--through Tim--stating that he -had discovered a clue to the robbery, and that he would come down to -tell her about it. Lesbia appointed the bottom of the garden as the -best place of meeting as her father rarely came there, and Canning -could easily row up to the landing-stage in the twilight. Every -evening she expected him, but as yet he had not appeared. Thus, she -was much annoyed when she beheld the slender form of the ex-captain in -the distance. - -With a cigarette in his mouth, which he was languidly smoking, Sargent -strolled pensively down the path, and finally came to a halt before -the pretty figure on the garden-seat. Lesbia looked at him blankly, -and gave him no encouragement. - -"A penny for your thoughts, Miss Hale," said the gallant captain, -forced by her silence to utter the first word. - -"They are worth the Bank of England," replied Lesbia, resolving to -make the best of this bore, since to get rid of him by plain speaking -only meant unnecessary trouble with her father. - -"In that case," said Sargent softly, and advancing nearer, "may I hope -they were of me?" - -"If you are so very egotistic," said the girl bitingly, "you can think -so." - -"You are cruel," muttered Sargent, somewhat disconcerted. He had not -expected so cutting a speech from so apparently timid a girl. "Why are -you so cruel to me, Lesbia--I may call you Lesbia, may I not?" - -"No," said Lesbia coldly, "I see no reason why you should. As to being -cruel, Captain Sargent, I am not aware that I am." - -"Surely," fenced the captain, "you are aware that I love you." - -Lesbia laughed, and he was more disconcerted than ever. "I am aware -that my father wishes me to marry you; but he said nothing of love." - -"He left it for me to say." - -"Well, then, say it," remarked Miss Hale cruelly. - -Sargent had met plenty of women and, with his good looks and -reputation for wealth, had usually scored an easy victory. But this -girl was so straightforward and so absolutely calm that he did not -know how to proceed. With an uneasy laugh he strove to fall into her -humour. "I love you," he stammered. - -"Why?" asked Lesbia, still calm and exasperating. - -"Look in the glass, and ask me why," he said ardently. "Can I behold -such loveliness and----" - -"Captain Sargent," she broke in, smiling broadly, "you speak just like -a lover of the mid-Victorian epoch. I have read such speeches in -books, and I have always thought them exceedingly silly. Be more -original!" - -Don Giovanni himself would have turned restive when advised to alter -his style of love-making, and Captain Sargent's waxen face grew red -with wrath. He was a bloodless person, so his anger was more like that -of a fretful child than that of a man. - -Lesbia looked at him with a contempt which he found hard to bear. She -wanted a man to master her as all women do, and she saw that this -wooer could never dominate. - -"You are very unkind, Lesbia," was all that Sargent could find to say. - -"In that case, why not leave me and go back to my father?" - -"Because I came from your father. He wants you to marry me. I want it -also. Come," he went on coaxingly, "be my wife, Lesbia, and you shall -have everything that the world can give you." - -"I daresay. Everything but a husband." - -"I shall be your husband." - -"You!" she looked him up and down until he reddened to the roots of -his straw-coloured hair. "I would rather be excused." - -"You won't marry me." - -"Certainly not." - -Sargent grew childish with rage. "If you do not there will be trouble. -I can ruin that man you love--that bounder Walker!" - -"He is not a bounder; he is a man, and it will take a stronger man -than you, Captain Sargent, to harm him." - -"But I _can_ harm him, and I shall do so," cried the captain, and his -delicate face took on an expression of cunning. Weak as he was, Lesbia -could see that wounded vanity might make him dangerous. "This -burglary----" - -"What do you know about it?" demanded Lesbia imperiously. - -"Walker is guilty. Miss Ellis says so." - -"For her own ends she says so, and you act in the same way. She wants -to marry George, and you want to marry me. It won't do, Captain -Sargent. Things are not to be settled in that fashion. You had -better," she laughed, "marry Miss Ellis yourself." - -"I love you; I want to marry you." - -"I am sorry," said Lesbia sedately, "but I decline." - -"For your father's sake," urged Sargent weakly, angry, and -looking more dangerously cunning than ever. "I can harm him also. I -can----" He saw from the startled expression on the girl's face that -he was saying too much, and abruptly turned on his heel. "I shall come -for my answer to-morrow, Lesbia," he called out, as he walked swiftly -towards the house. - -The girl remained where she was, wondering what this new threat meant. -She could understand how he could support her father and Maud in -harming George, but it was difficult to understand how he could harm -Mr. Hale. - -In a flash the old unrest came over Lesbia, and she again pondered her -father's unaccountable secrecy, and recalled his shady acquaintances. -Then again, there was Canning, who was a gentleman and had been to -school with Mr. Hale, only to degenerate into Sargent's valet. It was -all very singular and somewhat startling, and Lesbia puzzled over it -hopelessly, until she was aroused from a somewhat painful brown study -by a low whistle. - -She looked up and around, to see a boat by the landing-stage, and in -the boat Mr. Canning, apparently more frail than ever. Sargent was -also shadowy, and it dawned upon Lesbia that the two might be related. - -"Captain Sargent has just left me," she said, running down to the -landing-stage. "He wanted to marry me and I refused." - -"You were quite right, Miss Hale. If you married Sargent, you would be -ruined for ever." - -"He threatened to harm my father if I did not, and George also." - -Mr. Canning threw back his head and laughed silently. "He can do his -best to harm Walker by supporting Miss Ellis in her lie, but it will -take a much stronger man than Alfred to----" here he became aware that -he had appeared unduly familiar with his late master's name. - -"I thought so," said Lesbia, recalling how like the two men were in -looks and fragility; "you are related to Captain Sargent; you are his -brother." - -"Yes," said Mr. Canning, looking very pale. "Since you have guessed so -cleverly I may as well admit it. But I shall not tell you my story -now. Later will be time enough. Meanwhile, say nothing to your father -about having guessed that Alfred is my brother. How did you----" - -"Oh," said Lesbia smiling, "you are exactly alike. Both pale and -both slender, with the same cast of face and the same colour of hair, -and--oh, it's wonderful!--I believe you are twins." - -Mr. Canning shirked this question. He came ashore and passed with -Lesbia under the chestnut tree, behind the trunk, in fact, so that -they might not be seen from the cottage windows. - -"I have discovered the truth," he said, in his usual whisper, "but at -present you must not ask me how I came to learn it. But George Walker -is innocent. Mr. Tait had the jewels stolen so as to get the insurance -money." - -Lesbia gasped with amazement. "Are you certain?" she demanded, and -when he nodded, asked another question. "How did you learn so -quickly?" - -"That is a secret just now," said Canning equably. "Remember that I -warned you before, that you must not ask that question. It is -sufficient to say that I found out how Mr. Tait insured these jewels -for a large sum of money, and then employed two clever London thieves -to steal them. Tait will get the insurance money, and he will also -unset the jewels and sell them in India and America. Of course, the -thieves will have to be paid for the risk they took, though it was not -a great one, as Tait left the gallery doors open, and gave them the -key which he had on his watch-chain to open the safe. If Miss Ellis -had not come down; if Walker had not followed, there would have been -no scandal." - -"Mr. Canning," said Lesbia, after a moment's thought, "did Miss Ellis -know that this robbery was about to take place? From all that I have -heard of her she is deep in her uncle's confidence." - -"I cannot be sure if she is an accessory before the fact," replied -Canning, speaking in legal phraseology. - -"But I can," cried the girl, leaping to a conclusion with the -intuitive certainty of a woman. "I see the whole scheme. Miss Ellis -knew that the jewels would be stolen somewhere about three o'clock in -the morning, and so appointed that hour to meet George, and implicate -him in the crime. It was a carefully arranged trap into which he -walked wholly unconsciously." - -"But her reason?" asked Canning, somewhat perplexed. - -Lesbia laughed. "You are a mere man, Mr. Canning, and cannot -understand. It takes a woman to fathom the duplicity of another woman. -Miss Ellis loved George, and as he would not marry her willingly, she -lured him into this trap, so as to--oh!" Lesbia broke off, clenching -her little fists and stamping with anger. "But she shall not! she -shall not! I shall see her and defy her. And you, Mr. Canning--you?" - -"I am returning to London, to hide," said the man quietly; "but I can -come down here when it is necessary. I shall send you my address as -soon as I arrange where to conceal myself." - -"But why should you conceal yourself?" - -"That is too long a story to tell you at present. It is enough for -you to know that what I have discovered about Tait--what I have told -you--is dangerous to me. No, Miss Hale, do not ask me further -questions, for I dare not answer. I have jeopardised my liberty, and -perhaps my life, by what I have done for you." - -"I do not understand," said Lesbia, somewhat scared. - -"It is as well that you do not," said Canning, sombrely. "Bluebeard's -chamber is a dangerous room to look into. When it is necessary--if it -ever is--you shall know what I am concealing now. Meanwhile, I shall -go into hiding in London." - -"What am I to do?" - -"See Miss Ellis," rejoined The Shadow promptly. "Tell her what I have -discovered, and give my name as your authority--that is, say how -Captain Sargent's servant looked into the matter. You can suppress the -fact of my being a gentleman and Sargent's brother. Tell Miss Ellis -also that when the time comes I can prove that her uncle had the -jewels stolen so as to get the insurance money, in addition to the -money from the sale of the jewels in order to tide over a financial -crisis. Twenty thousand from the jewels and a like amount from -Lloyd's," ended Canning cynically, "will give Mr. Tait ample funds -with which to retrieve his position. He was in danger of bankruptcy, -but this crime, engineered by himself, has saved his credit." - -"What wickedness!" murmured Lesbia, as Canning moved towards his boat. - -"Oh, such doings are classed under the head of business by people like -Tait. But I must get away before my brother or your father sees me;" -and Canning loosened the painter, slipped into the boat, and took the -oars, not without an anxious glance at the cottage. - -"Thank you for what you have done," cried Lesbia softly, remaining, -for obvious reasons, behind the tree-trunk. - -"Not at all. I have only repaid my debt--that is, if such a debt can -ever be paid. Au revoir, Miss Hale!" and raising his shabby cap with -all the good breeding of a gentleman, Canning pulled away with an -easy, clean stroke, which could only have been learned at a public -school. - - - - -CHAPTER XII -A COUNTERPLOT - - -Captain Sargent was somewhat disheartened by Lesbia's steady -opposition to his wooing. He was not virile enough to take her heart -by storm, and his usual tactics did not seem to succeed with this -cool, quiet, observant girl, who looked at him so straight. Also his -threats of harming George Walker and Mr. Hale proved to be but blunt -weapons and could not penetrate the shield of Lesbia's composure. -Sargent retreated from the field of battle thoroughly beaten, and he -must have confessed as much to Hale, for that gentleman took his -daughter to task when she returned to the cottage after her secret -interview with Canning. The unsuccessful lover had already departed, -and Lesbia listened for ten minutes to her father's denunciations of -what he was pleased to style her wickedness. - -"You ought to be flattered that so rich and handsome a man loves you," -raged Mr. Hale, who for once in his life lost his self-control. "You -seem to forget that if I died to-morrow--and I might as my heart is -affected--you would be left penniless." - -Lesbia raised her eyebrows. "I understood you to say that you could -leave me two thousand a year," she observed quietly. - -"If you marry as I wish," cried her father furiously, "not otherwise. -Failing your becoming the wife of my dear friend, Sargent, I shall -leave the money to Lord Charvington." - -"Well," said the girl cheerfully, "that would only be fair, since he -has paid you a pension for so long." - -"What do you know about that?" snapped Hale, changing colour. - -"Very little. But you certainly told me in an expansive moment that -Lord Charvington, as your cousin, allowed you a small income." - -"Precious small," muttered Hale, not contradicting. - -"But why does he allow you anything?" asked Lesbia, very directly, -"with two thousand a year you cannot wish for his help." - -Hale took a turn up and down the room, then stopped opposite to his -daughter and spoke in quieter tones, but none the less emphatic. "I am -not enjoying two thousand a year at present," he declared slowly, "and -so accept an annuity from Charvington, who, being my cousin, has every -right to assist me." - -"I don't see that," murmured the girl, shrugging. - -"It doesn't matter what you see, or what you don't see," cried Hale, -his temper again getting beyond control. "Do as you are told, or -chance the consequences." - -"Be a pawn in fact," she rejoined ironically. "A pawn on your -chess-board." - -Hale shrugged in his turn. "Put it how you like," he retorted, "but -obey." - -"Certainly not. I am a human being and have the right to----" - -"You have the right to do nothing," broke in her father desperately. -"See here, my girl, you are making a great mistake by not letting me -guide you. Had you been open about that amethyst cross, I should never -have allowed you to give it to George Walker. Its possession means -more than you think. The two thousand a year depends upon its -production." - -"Oh!" Lesbia opened her eyes widely. "I see. Then you are willing that -I should marry George if you get this two thousand." - -"Yes," said Hale bluntly, "but for circumstances which do not concern -you--I prefer that you should marry Sargent." - -"Marriage with anyone concerns me a great deal," said Lesbia coolly, -"and I decline to marry a man I do not love. As to the cross: it was -my own property left to me by my mother, and if its production will -bring me two thousand a year I am very sorry it is lost." - -"I did not say that it meant two thousand a year to _you_," said Hale -uneasily, and with a scowl. - -"Pardon me, father. I assume that, since I am the owner of the cross. -However, it is lost and neither I nor you know where to find it. That -being the case I refuse to marry Captain Sargent and shall marry -George." - -"You have sent him away: you forget that." - -"I can bring him again to my feet." - -"Lesbia Lesbia! you are playing with fire." - -"Probably, but I shall continue to play until you tell me the meaning -of all these things." - -"I have told you about the cross----" - -"Quite so," interrupted the girl drily, "and I now know why George was -assaulted and his mother's cottage robbed." - -"You dare to say that I am the guilty person," demanded her father -suspiciously. - -"Oh no. If you were, you would have the cross; and thus being able to -get the two thousand a year, you would not oppose my marriage with -George. You are innocent!" - -"Thank you for nothing," sneered Hale coolly, "but you can reckon on -this, Lesbia, that if I could have knocked down George and have robbed -him of the cross I should have done so." - -"That is candid, father." - -"You asked me to be candid. But, hold your tongue, or else talk sense. -You must marry Sargent. I shall not allow you to throw yourself away -on that thief, and----" - -"Stop!" cried Lesbia, rising indignantly, "you shall not call George -names in my hearing. He is no thief." - -"Can you prove that?" - -It was on the tip of the girl's tongue to speak out and accuse Tait. -But she first desired to see Maud Ellis in order to cut her claws, and -therefore, with a self-restraint far beyond her years, she shook her -head. - -Hale sneered again, "You are a silly romantic fool," he scoffed, "and -sooner or later I shall force you to do my will." - -"Never! Never! Never!" - -"Oh, very well," replied Hale, baffled by her obstinacy, "then I shall -go to London and leave you here. I shall not speak to you, or eat with -you, or have anything to do with you, until you obey me as a daughter -should," and turning on his heel, he departed in cold anger. - -Hale duly kept his promise and went away leaving the girl to her own -devices. But so clever a man should have known that the punishment--as -he deemed it--was no punishment at all. He had never been a father to -Lesbia in the accepted sense of the word, and she had but small -affection for him. Alone with Tim, she was much happier than when in -Mr. Hale's chilling presence, and preferred his room to his company. -Also, he was really playing into her hands, as she wished to be alone -in order to see Maud and bring her to reason. It was not Lesbia's wish -to call again at Henley, as she thought that she could deal better -with Miss Ellis when she was on her native heath. Therefore, now that -Hale was out of the way, and she was free to do what she desired, she -set to work to concoct a plot, whereby to bring Maud Ellis to the -cottage at Marlow. - -To this end she wrote a letter stating that she and George were to be -married shortly, and that Miss Ellis's scheme had failed. This artful -epistle she posted to Henley, hoping that if Miss Ellis was in London -it would be forwarded to her there. She felt certain--since, being a -woman, she knew woman's nature better than a man could know it--that -Maud would seek an interview and come to Rose Cottage. Of course there -was the chance that Maud might first interview Walker, and then learn -the falsity of the statement. But in that case, George would come to -learn the truth, and then she could tell him what Canning had -discovered. In fact, owing to the skilful way in which Lesbia played -her one trump card, she was certain to bring to the cottage either -Maud Ellis or George Walker: and whichever came, she was prepared to -deal with the situation. All the same, she hoped that Maud would be -the one to put in an appearance, as if she could silence her, she -could then call at the Medmenham cottage and explain to her lover the -reason why she had dismissed him. Accordingly, when the letter setting -the trap was posted, Lesbia sat down to think over the behaviour of -Walker. - -It puzzled her that he should so tamely accept his dismissal. On the -face of it she had treated him cruelly, and had given no reason for -abruptly breaking off the engagement. All the same, she considered, -woman-like, that he should not have acquiesced too readily to her -proposal that they should never meet again. But she forgot that George -was a proud man, and that the sole reason he could assign for her -dismissing him, was the fact that he was suspected of robbery. If she -believed him guilty--George, as she might have thought, would have -argued in this way--and had not sufficient love to stand up for him, -then she was not worthy of the worship he bestowed on her. But Lesbia -did not think thus. She only knew that she had sent George to the -right-about and that he had gone away without looking back for a -single moment. This was not as it should be, said the woman within -her, and therefore she secretly felt annoyed with Walker for his too -ready obedience. It can therefore be seen that Lesbia Hale was -intensely feminine. Perhaps on that account George loved her the more, -since the unexpected in woman is always what lures the man. - -However, think what she would, and argue as she might, the fact -remained that Walker kept away from Rose Cottage and that she had not -sufficient courage to face her lover, when under the wing of his -mother. Lesbia missed the golden days of wooing dreadfully, and in -their absence was anxious to carry on her counterplot, if only to fill -in the time. Besides, there would be a considerable amount of pleasure -in beating Miss Ellis with her own weapons. It was therefore a happy -day to Lesbia that brought the stockbroker's niece into the trap, as -this time the biter was about to be bitten. And Lesbia, being a woman -and dealing with a woman, determined to show no mercy since Maud had -shown none. Besides, the two were fighting over a man, and so reverted -to the ethics of cave life and pre-historic struggle. - -Within four days of the posting of the letter, Miss Ellis arrived and -was shown by Tim into the tiny drawing-room. It was empty, as Lesbia -had seen her rival coming, and therefore had departed to change her -frock. Also she hoped to make Maud lose her temper by enforced -waiting, knowing that if she did, there would be less difficulty in -dealing with her. Unsophisticated as Lesbia was, she instinctively -knew how to fight. Her tactics were correct, for when she entered -spick and span and smiling into the drawing-room, she found Maud -fuming restlessly, and quite ready to pick a quarrel on the score of -uncivil treatment. - -"I have been kept waiting," said Miss Ellis in a Louis XIV tone, and -putting up a lorgnette to glare at her much too beautiful rival. - -"I am so sorry," responded Lesbia politely. "But I was not dressed to -receive anyone, and your visit is unexpected." - -Maud laughed contemptuously. "You knew that I would come," she -declared with conviction. "You have been looking out for me every -day." - -"_You_ say so," said Lesbia, still graciously, for since the last -interview at Henley, she had changed her tactics with Miss Ellis. -"Will you not be seated? This chair is most comfortable, it has its -back to the light." - -"I don't need to sit with my back to the light," flashed Maud -indignantly. - -"Oh, I beg pardon, but from that lorgnette I thought that your eyes -might be weak. Sit here then, in the full warmth of the sunshine." - -But Miss Ellis knew better than to let the searching light reveal her -age too clearly to her hostess. "I'll sit here," she declared -abruptly, and came to rest on the sofa. - -"That's right," said Lesbia caressingly, "It's a nice shady corner." - -Maud bit her lip, knowing perfectly well that Lesbia was casting a -reflection on her age. But having taken the seat she could scarcely -leave it without laying herself open to further pointed remarks, so -she remained where she was and came to the object of her visit at -once. "What do you mean by writing me this letter?" she demanded, -producing the epistle of her hostess. - -"I mean to show you that your plot to part George and myself has -failed." - -Miss Ellis crushed up the letter savagely. "Has it," she inquired, -"seeing that you have broken your engagement?" - -"How do you know that?" - -"Mrs. Walker told me. And very glad she is I can tell you. Mrs. Walker -is an old friend of my uncle's and has known me for years. She wants -George to marry me. She told me so only a few days ago." - -"As if it mattered what she said," retorted Lesbia contemptuously. - -"She is George's mother." - -"No one denies that." - -"And as he is her son, he should obey her." - -"Even when she wants him to marry a woman he cares nothing for." - -"George does care for me," cried Maud, a deep flush overspreading her -face even to the roots of her sandy hair. "I admit that when he was -engaged to you, he would not look at me. But now that you have thrown -him over so cruelly, he has turned to me for consolation." - -"I don't believe it," said Lesbia quickly. - -"You must, you shall," snapped Miss Ellis very much in earnest. "Look -here, this sort of thing won't do." - -"What sort of thing?" - -"This enmity you have towards me. I don't know why you are behaving so -exasperatingly," wailed Maud plaintively. "When you came to Henley, it -was the first time we met, and for your father's sake I was anxious to -make a friend of you. But you were so rude and so silly that I could -not. But I am willing to make every allowance for your want of -training, and so I have come here to ask you to be friends." - -"Oh, I don't mind, provided you will leave George alone." - -"I shan't, so there. I love him." - -"So do I. And as he loves me I have the prior claim." - -"But you have broken your engagement and so have left the field open -to me. Don't be a dog in the manger." - -"I am not. I love George and I have always loved him. I sent the -letter I did because of what my father told me. You lured George into -a trap, and--as you said yourself at Henley--you can get him arrested. -Because of your attitude I was compelled to dismiss him, or see him -ruined." - -Miss Ellis put up her lorgnette with an air of triumph. "You have -stated the case accurately, save for one remark," she declared. "I -_can_ ruin George Walker, and I shall do so unless he marries me. But -I did not lure him into a trap. I merely took advantage of -circumstances." - -"Which you knew existed." - -"What do you mean by that?" - -"What I say," retorted Lesbia, keeping her eyes on Maud's face. "You -appointed that place and that hour of meeting in order to implicate -George in a robbery which you knew was about to take place." - -Miss Ellis sprang to her feet with a white face and trembling hands. -"You go too far," she said, in a suffocating voice. "Why should -I?--Why should I?--Oh," she stamped, "your remarks are infamous." - -"They are true." - -"It's a lie! they are not true. I had no idea that my uncle's -strong-room was to be robbed of those jewels on that night and at that -hour. If I had known I should have prevented the robbery." - -"Mr. Tait would not have thanked you for doing so," replied Lesbia -meaningly. - -"Are you mad?" gasped Maud, and her face became a dull brick-red. - -"No," answered Lesbia drily, "I am merely well-informed." - -"Informed of what?" Miss Ellis moistened her dry lips. - -"That Mr. Tait wanted money to tide over a financial crisis, and -arranged to have the jewels stolen, so that he could sell them -secretly." - -"It's a lie--a lie," cried Maud again, and the perspiration broke out -on her quivering face; "my uncle is a wealthy man: everyone knows -that. If he wanted money he could have sold the jewels openly--they -were his own." - -"You forget the insurance at Lloyd's." - -Maud dropped on to the sofa as though she had been shot. "The -insurance?" - -"Yes. Mr. Tait insured those jewels for something like twenty thousand -pounds, and so had them stolen. Certainly he could have sold them -openly, as you say, but then he would have got only half the money he -requires." - -"Half the money?" Maud gasped again, and suddenly looked double her -age. - -"Of course, twenty thousand pounds. By insuring the jewels and by -having them stolen, he will gain the proceeds of the sale he has -arranged with the thieves, besides the twenty thousand from the -insurance." - -"You dare--to--accuse--my--oh," Maud jumped up fiercely and stamped -angrily, "it is ridiculous; what proof have you of this absurd tale?" - -"I have absolute proof," said Lesbia quietly and rising in her turn. -"Mr. Canning--The Shadow--who watched me here at my father's request, -found out what I say and, if necessary, he can prove the truth of what -he found out. And he will, at my request, if you do not promise to -leave George alone and swear that you will not accuse him of a crime -of which--as you knew all the time--he is innocent." - -But Maud heard only half this speech. "Canning, The Shadow," she -muttered, "do you mean Captain Sargent's valet?" - -"Yes. I nursed him through an illness, and he has shown his gratitude -to me by discovering your uncle's plot, and proving your knowledge of -it. I can prove what I say with Canning's assistance, and I shall do -so, unless you promise to do as I have asked you." - -Maud buttoned her jacket with trembling hands and moved towards the -door hastily. "You are talking rubbish," she muttered in a thick -voice. "I refuse to talk of the matter. It is too silly. But," she -faced round, "I shall tell my uncle, and he shall have you put in -gaol." - -"He will be in gaol himself," retorted Lesbia "As soon as you leave -this house, I shall arrange with Mr. Canning to go to the police and -state what he told me." - -"You would not dare." - -"Yes, I would, unless you swear not to accuse George and promise to -leave him to me. I said that before: I say so again, and for the last -time." - -"It's a----" Maud was about to say that it was a lie for the third -time, but the word died away on her lips. Whether Maud was cognizant -of the plot to steal the jewels Lesbia could not say, as she made no -remark on this point: but her very silence showed that she was in the -business. Lesbia's attitude left her no alternative but to make terms, -since if she left the house, there was every danger that her uncle -might be arrested. "If I do what you ask, will you hold your tongue?" -Maud demanded faintly. - -"Then you admit that what I say is true?" countered Miss Hale. - -"No," almost shouted Miss Ellis, "I do not. Still, mud sticks however -wrongly thrown, and I do not want my uncle to suffer through me. As to -Canning, oh, my uncle will deal with him I promise you. Not a word. I -agree to all you ask. I must. I shall not accuse George: I shall leave -him to you and," she leaned forward with a snarl, "I shall bring -misery on you at the eleventh hour." - -"I defy you," retorted Lesbia with scorn. - -"Very good." Maud smiled in an evil way. "We shall see who wins the -dangerous game you are playing. I----" she broke off abruptly and left -in haste. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII -MRS. WALKER'S VISIT - -The meeting of the two girls who loved George seemed destined to end -abruptly. On the first occasion Lesbia had broken short the interview -at Henley, and on the second Maud had hastened away from Rose Cottage. -Lesbia wondered that she had not remained to talk further, and was -rather anxious when she remembered that Maud had left with a threat on -her lips. Miss Ellis was clever and cunning and reckless, and in one -way or another might work mischief. Not that Lesbia saw any chance of -her doing any, since she knew too much for Maud's peace of mind. -Without doubt what Canning had discovered was true, else Maud would -not have surrendered so easily. Lesbia thought until she was weary -about the matter, and especially how Canning could have discovered the -truth so speedily. She would have asked him point-blank in spite of -his prohibition, but that he was in London. And as yet he had not -written to tell where he was hiding. - -However, as things stood, there was no doubt that Maud would keep her -promise, and that George was safe. On the day after the stockbroker's -niece had paid her visit, Lesbia wrote a long letter to Walker, and -detailed all that Canning had discovered and also narrated its effect -on Maud Ellis. Further, she gave George to understand how she had been -compelled to write the letter of dismissal, and ended up with a fond -wish that her lover should come and see her at once. When this letter -was posted Lesbia began to dream of Walker's speedy return, and -haunted the garden in order to see his boat coming swiftly down the -river. - -But the boat never came, nor did any letter from George. Day after day -Lesbia watched the stream: watched also the postman, but in every case -she was disappointed. Walker must have received the letter, else it -would have been returned through the Dead Letter Office, so it was -strange, seeing how she had explained matters, that he did not appear. -Or at least he might have written. The girl wearying for love grew -peaked and wan, much to the distress of Tim, who could not understand. -Finally, Lesbia told him the whole story, and sent him over to the -cottage at Medmenham to see if Walker had received the letter. Tim -returned somewhat downcast. - -"Masther Garge has been in London these six days," said Tim, "and the -misthress--his blissid mother, towld me she'd sint the letter to him. -He's got it, me dear, but the divil knows why he doesn't write ye the -scratch av a pen. Augh, me dear, nivir trouble him again. Sure there's -more fish in the say nor ivir come out av that same." - -"George is the only man in the world for me," said Lesbia firmly, -although the tears were in her eyes, "and I'll never give him up, -until I hear him say that he loves another. This is Miss Ellis's -work." - -"Och murder, me dear, it's a baste she is entoirely. But from what ye -towld me, Miss, ye drew the teeth av her." - -"She went away with a threat," sighed Lesbia dismally. "She can't -force my George to marry her now; but evidently she can prevent his -returning to me as I want him to. Oh Tim, what am I to do now?" - -"See Masther Garge and ask him plain, Miss." - -"But I have not the money to go to London, and besides, I do not know -where George is stopping," protested Lesbia, wringing her hands. - -"See his ould mother, the saints be good to her! for an iceberg she -is," suggested Tim after a pause. "Sure she'll tell ye where he is, me -dear." - -"No, Tim, no. Mrs. Walker hates my father, and would rather die than -see her son become my husband." - -"Hates the masther, is ut?" muttered the crooked little man frowning. -"And if so, me darlin' heart, why shud she come to see him?" - -"Come to see him," echoed Lesbia staring, "why Mrs. Walker has never -been here to see my father in her life. I understood from George that -she hated my father. In that case she will never come here. If she did -come," sighed Lesbia, "I might soften her heart so that she might be -on my side. I am sure I could win her over." - -"Well, Miss Lesbia, ye can but try, for the ould woman is coming here -to-morrow afternoon to see the masther." - -"But he's away, Tim." - -"Sure, Miss, he sint me the scratch av a pin sayin' he was coming back -this very day. I towld the ould woman, whin she axed me, so she's -coming to have a talk wid him. An' the divil will make a third wid -them two," muttered Tim crossing himself, "saints kape us from harm!" - -Lesbia was much astonished at this news, as Mrs. Walker had never been -to Rose Cottage before, and moreover--on the word of her son--she both -despised and hated Mr. Hale. The girl wondered if the visit had -anything to do with the letter she had lately written to George. -Perhaps Maud's threat had meant that she would enlist Mrs. Walker on -her side to stop the marriage, since Maud herself, for obvious -reasons, was powerless to do so. But then, in any case, Mrs. Walker -disapproved of the marriage, so there was no need for Maud to -interfere. Also, if the letter had been forwarded to George in -London--and Lesbia saw no reason why it should not have been -forwarded--he must have received the same. If so, why did he not -reply, seeing that she had completely exonerated herself, and was -anxious to renew the engagement which for George's own sake she had -been forced to break? Poor Lesbia thought over these questions until -she was weary and her head ached, but she could find no reply. The -only thing to be done, was to wait until the formidable Mrs. Walker -arrived: then a few minutes' conversation with her might reveal the -reason of George's strange behaviour. - -Mr. Hale duly returned, and seemed even angrier and more sullen than -he had been before he went away. He scarcely spoke to his daughter, -and several times he looked at her with positive dread in his usually -cold eyes. It appeared as though he considered Lesbia as a careless -child with a box of matches, who might at any moment set the house on -fire. Lesbia had a feeling that he was terribly angry with her, and -yet that this anger was mixed with a certain amount of dread. However, -he contented himself with looking daggers, and to avoid further -disturbances, she did not ask him any questions. But the house was -very uncomfortable. Then at breakfast next morning, on the day when -Mrs. Walker was expected, Hale surprised the girl by announcing an -invitation. - -"I saw Lord Charvington when I was in town," said Hale, keeping his -pale eyes on his plate. "For some reason he chose to remember your -existence." - -Lesbia gasped, and wondered if Charvington had told her father of the -money she had borrowed. In that case Hale would question her as to the -use she had made of it, and then her counterplot with Canning would -come to light with disastrous results. But Hale's further conversation -made it plain that Charvington had said nothing about the loan. - -"He asked how you were," pursued Hale softly, and still keeping his -eyes on his plate, "and if you had grown up a pretty girl. He hasn't -seen you for a long time, remember. Considering how badly you have -behaved, Lesbia, I spoke better of you than you deserved, so -Charvington--prepare yourself for a surprise--has asked you to stop at -his country-house. He told me that his wife would send you the -invitation." - -"It is very good of him," said Lesbia faintly. "But I really do not -want to go, father." - -Hale looked up with a scowl. "Always opposition," he grumbled, "you -_shall_ go, child. If you won't marry Sargent, there will be a chance -of your making a good match when under Lady Charvington's wing. She -has daughters of her own, too, so you will have a very good time." - -"Why should Lord Charvington ask me?" - -"I can't say. . . . He suddenly seems to have remembered your -existence. Of course, as my daughter you are related to him. However, -the chance of a visit at such a country house is a very good one for -you, so get ready to start when the invitation comes. Do you want any -frocks, or----" - -"No. I have everything," said Lesbia, rising; "after all perhaps the -change will do me good, and I should like to see a little of the -world." - -"You will see plenty of it with Charvington and his wife. They are a -gay couple, and entertain largely. They are at their country seat near -Maidenhead for a week; but if you play your cards well Lady -Charvington may take you to London for the rest of the season." - -Lesbia nodded and went into the garden. Here she sat on the bench -under the chestnut, and thought over the glittering prospect which was -now open to her. She loved George and was contented with the quiet -life, provided he shared it with her. But as he was absent and was -behaving so very strangely, she thought that it would be best to -plunge into society if only to forget her aching heart. And if George -would not marry her, it might be that she would meet with some other -man, who would take her away from the uncomfortable life with her -father. In her own heart Lesbia knew that she could love no one but -George Walker. Still she could not force him to marry her, and he -appeared to have accepted her letter of dismissal as final in spite of -the second epistle stating why she wrote the first. The poor girl felt -very sad and very lonely, and her tears rained down, salt and bitter, -as she sat a solitary figure under the glorious tree. The blackbird -was piping again, as he had done when George proposed; but it seemed -to her ears that the song was now sad. But that probably was mere -fancy. - -At one o'clock Lesbia returned to the cottage, wondering why all these -troubles had come upon her. It really seemed as though Tim's idea -about the bad luck of the cross was true, for ever since she had -bestowed it on her lover there had been nothing but sorrow and -mystery. Even George had not escaped misfortune, since he had been -assaulted and robbed, and had lost his situation through being accused -unjustly of a crime he had never committed. But Lesbia was a reader of -fairy tales, and remembered that the prince and princess always have -much grief before peace and joy arrive, so she hoped that in some -way--she could not see how--the bad luck which was upon her and George -would pass away leaving them married and rich and happy. But, at -present, it must be confessed that there did not appear to be much -chance of such good fortune. - -"The ould woman has come this very minit," whispered Tim, meeting the -girl at the back door. "I've put her in the parlour, but the masther -is out." - -"My father is certain to come into luncheon," said Lesbia hurriedly. - -"Av coorse he is," muttered Tim, "a mighty dainty man he is fur the -inside av him. But she's axing for you, Miss, and----" - -"I'll go to her," interrupted Lesbia, "meanwhile, Tim, lay another -place at the table. I daresay Mrs. Walker is hungry." - -With these instructions Lesbia sought the small parlour, and entered -to find it occupied by a modern Lady Macbeth. Mrs. Walker clothed in -rich but funereal-looking garments of the deepest black was seated -majestically on the sofa. Without rising she raised a pair of piercing -eyes to look at the girl, and a brief expression of surprise flitted -across her impassive face. She had scarcely expected to find the girl -so beautiful, as she had always taken her son's enthusiastic -descriptions with a grain of salt. However, she privately admitted -that George was right for once and she greeted the girl with stiff -kindness. And indeed it was hard even for a lady of Mrs. Walker's hard -nature to be angry with Lesbia, who looked such a child, and who -behaved so sweetly. - -"I am very glad to see you," said Mrs. Walker, looking anxiously into -the girl's delicate face. "You remind me of someone who--no, I can't -recall of whom you remind me. Still--" she searched anxiously--"you -are very like someone I knew." - -"Perhaps my mother," Lesbia ventured to remark. "My late nurse, -Bridget Burke, told me I closely resembled my mother." - -"I never met your mother," said Mrs. Walker, dropping Lesbia's hand -quickly and becoming stiffer than ever. "Your father and I were never -friends, my dear. I should not be here to-day, save that I have come -to ask him about some business connected with money I expect to -inherit. Also," added Mrs. Walker unexpectedly, "I wanted to see you. -George had talked much of you, my child, and seems to have loved you -greatly. I can't blame him, and the wonder is that he should give you -up." - -Lesbia clasped her small hands and sank into a chair, her face white -and her eyes widely open. "George has never given me up," she said -faintly. "I wrote and told him why I was forced to send him the first -letter, and----" - -"Yes, yes!" Mrs. Walker waved a beautifully-gloved hand. "I was in -London the other day--in fact I took your letter to George. He showed -it to me and told me everything." - -"And what did you say?" - -Mrs. Walker's deep, black brows drew together. "Of course the whole -thing is rubbish," she said harshly, "and only a love-sick girl like -Maud Ellis would act in that way. I suppose much must be forgiven her, -as she really loves my son. But after her behaviour, I shall never -consent to her marrying him. No! no! That would never do. Especially, -now that we know her uncle is such a rogue. I wanted George to tell -the police, but he refused." - -Lesbia cared very little for the fate of Tait. What she much desired -to know was her own. "You said that George has ceased to care for me," -she remarked with a pale smile. "I don't understand." - -Mrs. Walker gave her a pitying look. "Nor do I, now that I have seen -you, my dear. I don't like your father--I never did, and I would -rather have died than have seen George marrying his daughter. Your -looks and nature have made me change my mind. There is nothing of your -father about you. Had I seen you before----" Mrs. Walker broke off and -shook her stately head, "but it is too late. George will not renew the -engagement." - -"Oh, I can't believe that," cried the girl weeping and trembling. - -"Strange," muttered the elder woman, "you have been quite a heroine in -clearing George's character, for which I am greatly obliged to you. -Yet here you are crying like a schoolgirl." - -"I love him so much: I love him so deeply." - -"My poor child, it is the fate of women to have their hearts broken. I -do not know why George still refuses to renew the engagement in the -face of your letter, but he does. Here," Mrs. Walker took an envelope -out of her bag and handed it to the shaking girl, "you can read his -decision in his own handwriting. He asked me to give you this." - -With great delicacy she turned away her head, while Lesbia tore open -the envelope with shaking hands. There were only a few lines, but -these intimated plainly that George had accepted his dismissal, and -would not seek to renew the engagement. "I love you still, my -dearest," wrote Walker in conclusion, "but Fate wills that we must -part for ever." Then there were a few tender words, and the epistle -ended abruptly, as though the writer could not trust his emotions. -Lesbia read the lines, folded the letter and replaced it in the -envelope which she put into her pocket. Her eyes were dry now, and her -white face was flushed with colour. With a deep sigh she touched the -elder woman on the shoulder, "I understand," she said calmly. - -Mrs. Walker, whose sympathies--remarkably in so cold a woman--were now -entirely with Lesbia, grew snappy to conceal her emotion. "I don't," -she said acidly, "and when George returns to Medmenham I shall have an -explanation with him. He's a fool." - -"No," said Lesbia, her face growing even a deeper red. "Can't you see -that George is only acting in this way to save me?" - -"To save you from what?" asked Mrs. Walker shortly. - -"I don't know. I can't say," Lesbia spoke more to herself than to her -visitor. "But I feel sure that George wrote this letter as I wrote my -first one to him. I wrote to save him, and now he refuses to renew our -engagement to save me. I don't understand, still--oh I am sure that -everything will come right. I trust in God." - -"You do well to do so," said Mrs. Walker gravely, "for only He can -help you, my child. I am thoroughly puzzled, and know not what to -say." - -"Say nothing: do nothing," cried Lesbia eagerly. "Things will work out -to a happy end in their due time." - -"You are sure of that?" - -"I am certain." - -"Then," said Mrs. Walker grimly, "you must have a sixth sense which I -do not possess. However, I am glad that you have not given way to -hysteria. You are a brave girl, and I would rather have you for my -daughter-in-law than I would any one else, in spite of your father. -There," Mrs. Walker bent forward and actually kissed the girl's lips. -"That shows I mean what I say." - -"Oh!" Lesbia returned the kiss, blushing divinely, "George said that -you hated me, and----" - -"How could I hate a girl I had never seen?" snapped Mrs. Walker, -ashamed of her momentary humanity. "I hate your father, and--well -there, say no more about the matter. I hope with all my heart that -things will turn out well for you and George, as you appear to think -they will. Meanwhile while we are waiting for your father, tell me -about the amethyst cross." - -Lesbia started to her feet in astonishment. "The cross," she echoed. -"I have lost it. You know that I gave it to----" - -"Yes! Yes!" Mrs. Walker waved her hand impatiently. "I know about the -robbery and how no one can find the cross. It must be found, -nevertheless. But I wish to learn exactly how it came into your -possession. George told me something about the matter, but like a man -he told it very badly. For this reason I have come to see you, as well -as Mr. Hale, whom I detest," added Mrs. Walker severely. "Where did -you get the cross?" - -"From my mother. That is, the cross belonged to her. She left it to my -nurse Bridget Burke----" - -"Where is she?" - -"Dead. She died some time ago." - -"Unlucky," muttered Mrs. Walker with a dark look. "Well?" - -"My mother told Bridget to give it to me, and to tell me that I was -never to part with it save to the man I loved. Then you know"--Lesbia -blushed again--"I gave it to George." - -"Yes. I know of that and of the loss. I said so before. But how did -the cross come into your mother's possession?" - -Lesbia shook her head. "I really cannot tell you." - -Mrs. Walker frowned again, and turned her steely eyes towards the -door. Her quick ears had caught a soft foot-fall, and her quick eyes -had seen the half-open door move. "Come in, Mr. Hale," she said -loudly, "we are saying nothing which you cannot hear." - -Hale, who apparently had been listening, entered, looking perfectly -cool and composed. "The cross did not belong to Lesbia's mother," he -said quietly, but the look in his eyes as they rested on Mrs. Walker -was not pleasant. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV -THE FAMILY LAWYER - - -Lesbia uttered an exclamation when she heard the astonishing remark of -her father, and started to her feet. But Mrs. Walker, grimly silent, -kept her seat and glared, like Medusa, on the newcomer. If she could -have turned him into stone she would willingly have done so, as could -be seen from the expression of her hard eyes. Hale, perfectly cool, in -spite of the insulting speech which she made, took a chair and looked -at her with deliberate insolence. Also deliberately he reverted to her -insult. - -"I was just passing along to the dining-room," he explained slowly, -"when I heard voices and your last question. I entered at once and was -not eavesdropping, as you are pleased to say." - -"There is no need to excuse yourself," said Mrs. Walker tartly, -"for----" - -Hale crossed his legs and leaned back. "In my own house I think not." - -"For I don't believe a word you say," she finished harshly. - -"Naturally you would not," rejoined Mr. Hale smoothly; "you were -always a hard and suspicious woman." - -Mrs. Walker moved her hands restlessly, and her eyes gleamed fiercer -than ever. "You know better than that," she muttered. "Take your mind -back thirty years." - -"Willingly," said Hale, with great promptness. "Do you wish us to -speak of the past in Lesbia's presence?" - -This time he scored, for Mrs. Walker winced. "There is no need for the -child to hear old stories," she remarked, with suppressed passion. -"Let us discuss what I have come to see you about." - -"The cross?" - -"Oh," she flashed scornfully, "I thought you were not eavesdropping?" - -"I admitted that I heard your last question," said Hale, with a shrug, -"but you never would listen." - -"I am listening now. Say what you have to say." - -"I have said all that I intend to say, Mrs. Walker. The amethyst cross -did not belong to Lesbia's mother." - -The girl uttered another exclamation; she was lost in astonishment. -"But, father," she remonstrated, "Bridget told me on her -death-bed----" - -"What she told you was what I instructed her to say," interrupted Hale -imperiously. "But your mother--my wife--never possessed such an -ornament." - -Lesbia looked at him doubtfully. Of late, she had suspected that her -father was not above telling a falsehood to serve his own private -ends, and in the face of what she knew, it appeared as though he was -telling one now--why, she could not conjecture. While she was trying -to puzzle out the reason, Mrs. Walker rose and swept across to the -window of the drawing-room which looked out into the road. "I don't -see him yet," she muttered to herself, and consulted a bracelet-watch -attached to her left wrist. - -"Are you expecting anyone?" asked Hale politely. "Mr. Jabez, my family -lawyer," she replied curtly, and returned to her seat. - -Hale raised his eyebrows and looked more gentlemanly than ever; also a -trifle dangerous. "You asked him to my house?" - -"Yes, because I want to hear all about the cross. Oh, I know well that -you do not wish to see Mr. Jabez, Walter, but----" - -"You call me Walter," said Hale, and suddenly flushed. - -"A slip of the tongue," retorted Mrs. Walker, also growing red. "The -time is long past when I could call you so. You are Mr. Hale to me." - -"Then why not call me so?" demanded the man coolly. - -"I will do so in future," said Mrs. Walker, and bit her lip in silent -rage at having given him an opportunity of scoring. "But I know that -Mr. Jabez is too well acquainted with the seamy side of your life for -you to care about meeting him." - -Hale shrugged his shoulders. "He was my family lawyer as he is yours," -he answered in icy tones, "and one confesses much to one's lawyer, -which one would hesitate to say to others. I can depend upon the -secrecy of Jabez as to my misfortunes." - -"Oh!" Mrs. Walker laughed scornfully, "you call them by that name." - -"It suits them best. As to Jabez, I have no hesitation in meeting him. -But I prefer to choose my own visitors." - -"You certainly would not choose Mr. Jabez," said the elder woman -insultingly. "However, I have taken advantage of your easy-going -nature"--she was very sarcastic--"to invite Mr. Jabez to meet me here, -so that we may discuss the whereabouts of the cross." - -"How can we discuss what we cannot and do not know?" asked Hale, with -a contemptuous look. "You are still the same woman, Judith, headstrong -and----" - -"Don't call me that name!" she said sharply. - -"A slip of the tongue merely, such as you made just now," sneered -Hale; "but all this is very unpleasant for Lesbia. Don't you think -that while we quarrel she had better leave the room?" - -Mrs. Walker drew Lesbia down on to the sofa beside her, and retained -the girl's hand within her own. "No," she said sternly, "I am not -going to quarrel with you, Mr. Hale. Besides, I wish Lesbia to be -here, so that she may hear somewhat of the past." - -"Why should she?" asked Hale hastily. - -"I want her to marry George." - -"You--want--her--to--marry--George," repeated Hale astonished, "my -daughter!" - -Mrs. Walker looked at him straight. "You may well be surprised," she -said quietly, "especially as you know through my son that I was set -against this marriage, and with good reason let me remind you, Mr. -Hale. But now that I have seen Lesbia"--she drew the girl closer--"I -see no reason why the sins of the father should be visited upon the -child. Lesbia shall be my dear daughter, and I welcome her with joy." - -"I have something to say to that. She shall never be your -daughter-in-law, since it is better to be explicit as to -relationship." - -"We'll see about that." - -"Quite so. You are a clever woman, Judith, but I am also a clever -man." - -"Oh!" Mrs. Walker winced again at his using her Christian name. "We -had better not begin about your qualities. Lesbia would certainly have -to leave the room then." - -"Don't shame me in the presence of my child, madam," said Hale -thickly, and the veins on his forehead began to swell with anger. - -"I beg your pardon," said Mrs. Walker with a careless laugh, "I forgot -how you have deceived her into thinking you an angel." - -Hale suddenly rose, and walked to the window. He was in a furious rage -and was trying to keep himself cool, since he knew that any loss of -temper would give Mrs. Walker an advantage which he did not intend her -to gain. She sat quietly smoothing Lesbia's hand, with glittering eyes -quite ready to continue hostilities as soon as her enemy recovered his -breath. Lesbia herself remained passive, wondering what all the -trouble was about. Neither the one nor the other of the disputants -hinted sufficient to enlighten her as to the reasons why they were at -enmity. Hale certainly might have said something more to the point, as -he was rapidly losing control of his temper, but as he turned from the -window, there came a ring at the front door of the cottage. "Here is -Jabez," said Hale, coming back to his seat. "I am glad he has arrived, -if only to stop your tongue." - -"Oh, Jabez knows all that I can say," remarked Mrs. Walker grimly, and -became silent. - -With wide-open eyes, Lesbia sat waiting quietly to see what would -happen next. This duel of three--as it appeared to be, was as -fantastic as that in which Mr. Midshipman Easy fought. Moreover, the -girl was so bewildered by the hints dropped of a disagreement between -Mrs. Walker and her father, of which she knew nothing, that she was -trying hard to collect her scattered senses in order to take in future -events more clearly. - -Mr. Jabez announced his presence in the passage by a dry, hard cough -before he was introduced to the company by Tim Burke. He was a meagre -man of medium height with a bald head, a hatchet face, a pair of eyes -the colour of which could not be seen because of blue spectacles, and -a loose figure invested in well-fitting dark clothes. He looked -somewhat like a certain type of American, but when he opened his -mouth, he spoke very precise English. For the rest, he seemed -unemotional and very much addicted to dry business details. No one -could have called Mr. Jabez an interesting person, but he appeared to -know his business and the value of his time, upon which he placed a -high price. - -"Good-day! Good-day! Good-day!" he said severally to the three people -in the room with a little nod to each. "Mr. Hale, I apologise for -calling uninvited at your cottage, but Mrs. Walker, who wished for the -meeting here, must make my excuses. This is your daughter: a very -handsome young lady. I shall take this chair, with my back to the -light, as my eyes are somewhat weak. For that reason I wear blue -spectacles. Now," Mr. Jabez had gained possession of a comfortable -chair by this time, "let us come to business, as I have to return to -London within the hour, Mrs. Walker!" - -Thus addressed Mrs. Walker, as grim as Jabez himself, and as impatient -of wasting time, spoke to the point. "I asked you here, Mr. Jabez, to -meet Mr. Hale with whom," she added venomously, "we are both -exceedingly well acquainted." - -"Quite so--quite so," interrupted the lawyer with his dry cough, "but -it would be as well to avoid personal remarks. They do no good and -take up valuable time. Go on, Mrs. Walker." - -"I want to hear what Mr. Hale has to say about the amethyst cross," -said the widow with a dark look at her enemy. - -"I have nothing to say about it," retorted Hale, nursing his chin with -his hand and leaning back with crossed legs, apparently indifferent. - -"Pardon me, but you have much to say," remarked Jabez precisely. "So -far I merely know on the authority of Mrs. Walker--that the cross was -given to this young lady," he nodded very curtly towards Lesbia, "and -that in her turn she passed it to Mr. George Walker." - -"That is true," admitted Lesbia, seeing that she was called upon to -speak. "I was told by Bridget----" - -"Who is Bridget?" interrupted Jabez keenly. - -"My late nurse. She is dead." - -Jabez shook his bald head. "T'cht! T'cht! T'cht! That is a pity. Go -on." - -"Bridget told me that I was to give the cross only to the man I -loved. I therefore gave it to George. He was assaulted for it on the -towing-path and as it could not be found upon him, his room at -Medmenham was robbed." - -Jabez nodded. "Mrs. Walker told me all this," he said quietly, "and -the cross has never been found." - -"No," said Mrs. Walker. - -"No," said Mr. Hale. - -"No!" said Lesbia. - -"All are agreed," smiled the lawyer drily, "a most unanimous opinion. -I understand," he addressed Lesbia again, "that your mother originally -owned this cross and gave it to your nurse. Mrs. Walker, on the -authority of her son, told me as much." - -"I understood that the cross had belonged to my mother," replied -Lesbia, nervously glancing at her father. "Bridget told me so, when -she gave it to me on her death-bed." - -"Then she told you wrongly," said Mr. Hale, "and at my request." - -"Why?" demanded Jabez, turning towards his unwilling host. - -"Because the cross belonged to another woman, and I did not want that -known in case someone should claim it." - -"Ha!" said Mrs. Walker darkly. "And why did you wish to keep it?" - -"I--I--liked the ornament," confessed Hale hesitating, and quite -forgetting the sentimental reason he had given to his daughter as to -the desire to keep the cross because it had been the property of his -late wife. - -Mrs. Walker laughed scornfully. "I believe you know the reason why the -cross is so valuable," she snapped. - -"Yes, he does," chimed in Lesbia, who was determined to learn the -reason of all this mystery. "He says that if produced it will bring -him two thousand a year." - -"Lesbia!" Hale jumped to his feet and looked furious. "How dare you?" - -"How dare I?" she cried, rising in her turn. "Because you will not -trust me, father, and I am in the dark. The cross is mine, and I have -a right to know all that concerns it. Does the production of the cross -mean gain to my father of two thousand a year?" she asked the lawyer. - -"It means that if a certain person produces the cross to me," -explained Mr. Jabez, "fifty thousand pounds will----" - -"Let me explain," interrupted Mrs. Walker sharply. "Lesbia, the cross -is needed to prove the identity of my sister Kate. My father left her -the sum of fifty thousand pounds. She eloped with a man of whom he -disapproved, and has not appeared to claim the money. We don't know if -she is living or dead, and----" - -"Ah!" broke in Hale, "this is what George told me." - -"Yes," flashed out Mrs. Walker, turning towards him, "and for that -reason you know the value of the cross." - -"Oh," Hale shrugged his shoulders, "I knew that long ago." - -"Then why did you not produce it?" - -"Because I thought it was lost. If the cross belonged to your sister -Kate, Mrs. Walker, I knew her." - -"She was not your wife," cried Mrs. Walker savagely, "You were not the -man she ran away with." - -"I never said that I was," rejoined Hale coolly. "No. Hear what I have -to say. When I was living at Wimbledon with my wife--Lesbia's -mother--we one day found a woman unconscious in the snow. My wife, who -was a Good Samaritan, revived her and took her in. She died, but -before drawing her last breath, she told me that she was Katherine -Morse----" - -"That was my sister's maiden name. But she married the man she ran -away with." - -"She never told me so," said Hale coolly. "She died in my wife's arms -and is buried in Wimbledon cemetery. The cross--as I heard from my -wife on her death-bed--she gave to my wife saying that if produced to -Mr. Simon Jabez it would be worth fifty thousand pounds. My wife gave -the cross to Bridget and did not tell me so. When she died I hunted -for the cross and could not find it. But that old hag of an Irishwoman -possessed it and held her peace. On her death-bed she gave it to -Lesbia and told her not to tell me about it. I only became aware of -its whereabouts when I saw it in your son's hand after he had proposed -to Lesbia. Then it was lost again and I don't know who has it." - -"What a strange story!" said Lesbia, "why did you not tell me before, -father?" - -Hale turned on her viciously. "You were secret with me about the -cross, so what occasion was there to tell you? Had you been open I -would have had that fifty thousand pounds long ago." - -"No," said Jabez, who had been listening attentively, "you were not -married to Miss Katherine Morse, and so had no claim to the money." - -"I claim it," cried Mrs. Walker triumphantly, "all I wanted to know -was whether my sister Kate was dead. Now you have sworn to that, and -now that we know she is buried in Wimbledon cemetery, I get the -money." - -"No," said Jabez again and very drily. - -Mrs. Walker rose and turned on him angrily. "You know my father's -will," she cried angrily. "One hundred thousand pounds was left -equally between myself and my sister. I had my share and my husband -spent it. Kate never came to claim her half, so by the will it reverts -to the survivor of Samuel Morse's daughters. I am the survivor so----" - -"You go too fast, my dear lady," said the lawyer, "and do not know the -will so thoroughly as I do. Fifty thousand pounds, which I hold, was -left to Katherine and her heirs. There may be a child or children." - -"Kate Morse had no child when she died in my house," said Hale -sharply. "I can prove it." He went to the door and called out, "Tim." - -In a few minutes, and amidst a dead silence, the crooked little man -appeared rubbing his red head. "What's your will, sor?" he asked -softly. - -"You remember the woman who was taken in at Wimbledon years ago?" -questioned Hale impatiently. "The woman with the amethyst cross." - -"Ay, sor, I mind that. I wor a bare-futted gossoon thin. Me -mother--rist her sowl!--laid out the shroud av her." - -"Had this woman a child with her?" asked Jabez promptly. - -"No, sor," said Tim unhesitatingly, "she had not. The only child in -the house wor Miss Lesbia here." - -"That will do," said Hale impatiently, waving his hand, and drawing a -long breath, "you can go," and Tim took his departure. "Are you -satisfied?" he asked turning to the lawyer. - -"No," said that gentleman quietly, "I must have a better proof that -there was no child. From certain rumours, which I remember hearing -years ago, I am inclined to believe that there is a child." - -"I believe there was a child," said Mrs. Walker, who had been sitting -grim and silent. "Kate wrote to me two years after she eloped with -that man, that she had a baby and that it was very ill. She did not -expect it to live." - -"Did she mention the sex of the child?" - -"No. She did not, nor did I ever hear from her again. I daresay that -man cast her off, or deserted her, and she crawled to Wimbledon to -die. But the child must be dead also, so I inherit the money." - -"No! no! no. There is not sufficient proof of the child's death," said -Jabez, "although it appears we can prove the death of your sister. -Then again, I must have the amethyst cross placed in my hands before I -can part with the money. It is well invested," added Jabez with a -chuckle, "and brings in a trifle over two thousand a year. You are -correct in your estimate, Mr. Hale, but I doubt if you can claim the -money." - -"I could if I had the cross," muttered Hale savagely. - -"Not even then. If the child, whether male or female, appears with the -cross and I can prove that it is the child of Mrs. Walker's sister -then I'll hand over the money. If we can prove the death of the child, -Mrs. Walker will get the money." - -"And I'll have it," cried Mrs. Walker rising indignantly. "I am -certain that the child is dead. Kate wrote that it was dangerously -ill." - -"But not dead," chuckled Jabez, glancing at his watch. "Well, there is -nothing more to be said, so I shall take my leave. Good-day! good-day! -good-day!" he nodded again to each in turn and vanished as -unexpectedly as he had entered. Mrs. Walker looked remarkably angry. - -"The money is mine and I'll have it," she said determinedly. - -"You must first find the amethyst cross," sneered Hale. - - - - -CHAPTER XV -A STARTLING LETTER - - -After Mrs. Walker's portentous visit to Rose Cottage with her lawyer, -things went on quietly for some days. Mr. Hale at first positively -refused to speak on the subject of the cross and the fortune attached -thereto, as he maintained that it was useless to talk about -impossibilities. Then he changed his mind and spoke with extraordinary -freedom. - -"Nothing can be done until we find the amethyst cross," he said -gloomily to his daughter, "when that is produced, the money will be -forthcoming." - -"But you forget, father, that the cross has to be produced by Mrs. -Walker's nephew or niece," said Lesbia doubtfully. - -"She hasn't got one," snapped Hale. "If there was a child, it is dead. -I know that no child was brought to my house at Wimbledon by Kate -Morse." - -"Mrs. Walker said that was her sister's maiden name. Do you know the -name of the man she married?" - -"Yes." Hale cast a jealous side-glance at his daughter. "It's an old -story and a long one." - -"Which has to do with Mrs. Walker's enmity against you?" persisted -Lesbia. - -"Yes," said Hale again. "She thought that I had something to do with -her sister's elopement. Such rubbish, as though I could have helped -it." - -"Why did Miss Morse run away, then?" - -"Because of her father. He was a wealthy, old, psalm-singing idiot, -who made the two girls wretched. Kate fell in love with a certain -friend of mine--I am not going to mention his name--and old Morse told -him that he was not to come near the house. Then Kate took the bit -between her teeth and ran away with the man. She had a miserable life, -I believe, but I saw nothing of her until she stumbled foot-sore and -weary into my house at Wimbledon. The rest you know." - -"And the money?" asked Lesbia anxiously. - -"You heard all that is to be said on that subject when Mrs. Walker was -here," growled Hale, who was more communicative than usual. "But I'll -repeat the story, because I wish to make a suggestion." - -"What is the suggestion?" asked the girl, who mistrusted the uneasy -looks of her father. - -"First the story and then the suggestion," he remarked grimly. "Well, -it can scarcely be called a story. Samuel Morse, the psalm-singing old -ass I told you of, had a hundred thousand pounds, two daughters, and -no son. He made a will leaving the money equally divided between them, -and after death the money if not used up was to go to their heirs. -Judith--Mrs. Walker that is--married a scampish man-about-town, who -soon got through all she had and then broke his neck in a -steeplechase, leaving Judith with next to nothing upon which to bring -up George. Kate, having eloped with the man whose name I don't wish to -mention, did not claim her share of the cash." - -"If Mr. Morse was so angry I wonder he did not alter his will." - -"He would have done so. Of that I am absolutely certain," said Hale -emphatically, "but he had no time to do so. Shortly after he made his -will Kate eloped, and the old man died in a fit of rage, before he -could give instructions to Jabez who was his lawyer. Jabez gave fifty -thousand pounds to Judith, who by and by married Walker and lost it -all through his spendthrift habits. The remaining fifty thousand he -invested, and what with the principal and interest it must be a tidy -sum by now. At all events it brings in over two thousand a year. Since -Kate is dead the money passes to her child if she left any, which I do -not believe. Failing a child, it reverts by the will to Mrs. Walker." - -"But why need she produce the amethyst cross?" asked Lesbia. - -"She need not, as her identity is fully established in Jabez's eyes. -The cross--as I learned from him years ago--was an ornament which old -Morse had made for Kate, a kind of religious symbol." - -"Who bears the cross will win the crown," said Lesbia, remembering the -ornament; "or rather, as the motto goes, lose the crown by refusing -the cross." - -Hale nodded with a smile of contempt. "Yes! That was old Morse's idea. -He gave the cross to Kate, and then she ran away with it and the man -who became her husband. Jabez, knowing that the ornament is peculiar, -swears that he will need the cross to prove the identity of Kate or of -her child, as no one else could possess so odd a trinket. As if it -could not be imitated exactly," ended Hale with contempt. - -"The cross might be imitated," said Lesbia, doubtfully. "But as the -poor woman is dead, it will not be so easy to produce a child as -hers." - -Hale, with his head on one side, looked at her oddly. "I don't know so -much about that," he said slowly. - -"What do you mean?" questioned Lesbia, seeing that her father had -something on his mind. - -"Well," said Hale, pinching his chin and still looking at her as -though to hypnotise her mind; "there was no child, as I said. But you -were only a baby twenty years ago, born, in fact, only a week before -Kate Morse came to my house. Could we not say that you are the child?" - -"What?" Lesbia looked indignantly at her father. - -"Don't be foolish," said Hale testily. "It is not a crime seeing that -the money is there for the asking, Bridget Burke told you that the -cross was given to you by your mother. Let it be so, and I can swear -and, for your sake, I can get Tim to swear, that you are the long-lost -child. The train has already been laid by Bridget's story--which by -the way I told her to tell you--so old Jabez will be easy to -convince." - -Lesbia drew a long breath. "I should not think of deceiving and -robbing Mrs. Walker." - -"Oh, nonsense," said Hale earnestly. "When she dies the money goes to -her son, so if you marry him you can hand over twenty-five thousand to -him, or say one thousand a year. Thus you will be acting honestly -towards the Walkers, my dear, and----" - -"And dishonestly towards myself," cried Lesbia indignantly. "And what -of the remaining one thousand a year, father?" - -Hale drooped his eyes suavely. "I take that for arranging that you get -the money. Come, Lesbia, what do you say?" - -"I decline," she retorted, quivering with indignation. "How dare you, -who are my father, make such a proposal? Even if I were the true -child, I should not give you one penny." - -"Ha!" said Hale bitterly. "I thought so, and thus suggested a wild -scheme to try you. I might have known." - -"I believe that if I had fallen in with your scheme," cried Lesbia -boldly, "that you would have arranged to carry it through. You have -not the cross, however, and even if I consented----" - -"I remember the look of the cross, and so do you. It could have been -duplicated, my dear." - -Lesbia looked at her father in pained astonishment, and then burst -into bitter tears. "Oh, how I wish that I could respect you," she -wailed. - -Hale lifted his eyebrows. "Don't you?" - -"No! How can I, when I find that you are so wicked?" - -"I was only trying you," he said hastily. "Though it is true that had -you shown a disposition to give me my fair share I might have -endeavoured to get you this fortune. But, as it is, I see well that -all my pains would be thrown away. You would see me--your own -father--starve rather than let me have one penny." - -Lesbia dried her tears. "I would have nothing to do with such a wicked -scheme, and I only wish I could get away from you. You have never been -a father to me, and every day we drift farther and farther apart. When -I see Lord Charvington I shall ask him to help me to get a situation, -as a companion or a nursery governess, and then----" - -"Lesbia, you surely would not disgrace me by talking to Charvington in -that way," said Hale, his face growing dark. "Perhaps I have never -been affectionate, but then I feel more than I say. And you have -always had comfort and all that I could give." - -"I have had everything, save a father's love." - -"My nature is a reticent one," said her father sullenly. "So it is -useless to ask for impossibilities. If you really are unhappy with me, -marry George Walker and have done with it." - -"And what about Captain Sargent?" asked Lesbia sharply. - -Hale shrugged his shoulders. "I can't force you to marry a man against -your will, bad father as you say that I am. I have done my best for -you and you persistently regard me with suspicion." - -"What you proposed to do just now----" - -"Was merely an experiment. Think no more about it, and don't make -yourself ridiculous with Charvington. Play your cards well with him -and his wife, and you may make a good match." - -"I shall marry no one but George," said Lesbia obstinately. - -"He won't have anything to do with you," sneered Hale, and turned -away. - -Things being strained in this way Lesbia was sufficiently unhappy, -especially as George was absent and silent. She could not understand -why, after her explanation, he refused to come back to her. But in the -depths of her mind, she felt certain that he was acting against his -heart's desire, and much in the same way as she had acted when she -dismissed him. It was impossible to see him, as he was in London and -she did not know his address, and it was equally impossible to write -to him. Certainly, as Mrs. Walker was ready to receive her, she could -have gone to Medmenham to converse with that formidable lady, but she -hesitated to pour out her woes in that quarter. In spite of her sudden -friendliness, Mrs. Walker was unsympathetic, and the poor girl longed -for some kind breast whereon she could lie and weep and be comforted. - -Thus it can easily be guessed that Lesbia hailed with joy the arrival -of a brisk little woman, who introduced herself as Lady Charvington. -She came in a gorgeous motor car, with much noise and pomp, and was -dressed like Solomon, in all his glory, so wonderful was her frock. -Mr. Hale was within and received her with much deference, which was -natural considering that Lord Charvington was his patron. Lesbia was -sent for, and duly came down to the tiny drawing-room to be -introduced. - -"So this is Lesbia," said Lady Charvington, putting up a -tortoise-shell lorgnette, "quite a beauty I declare." - -She frowned a trifle when she said this, for her own daughters, in -their 'teens at present, were not beautiful. She herself had no great -pretension to good looks, although she made the best of herself in -every way. She was as small as Lesbia, but did not possess such a -complexion or such a figure, and there was an ill-tempered droop to -her mouth which made the girl mistrust her. For Lord Charvington's -sake, since he had been so kind to her, Lesbia was anxious to love his -wife, and perhaps had she been a plain girl Lady Charvington might -have given her an opportunity of exercising such affection. But the -looks of Lesbia took her aback, as she saw in this delicately -beautiful girl a formidable rival, not only to her plain daughters but -to herself. For Lady Charvington, in spite of her age and of the fact -that she was married, flirted a great deal. However, swiftly as these -things passed through her mind, she did not permit them to be revealed -by her face and welcomed Lesbia with well-affected enthusiasm. - -"You dear," she said, hopping up like a bird to peck the velvet cheek -of her proposed guest; "why have you hidden yourself for so long?" - -"I have been stopping here with my father since I came from school," -said Lesbia, trying to overcome a sudden dislike for this smiling -vision of small talk and chiffon. - -Lady Charvington shook a dainty finger at Mr. Hale, who was looking on -well-pleased at the scene. "You naughty, naughty man," she cried -effusively and girlishly, "how dare you keep Beauty shut up in a -castle no one ever heard of? But that Charvington spoke about this -sweet thing the other day and proposed to have her over at the Court -for a few days, I should never never have seen her." - -"I didn't wish to trouble you with my girl, Lady Charvington." - -"Oh," Lady Charvington uttered a little scream of delight, while -taking in every detail of Lesbia's looks and costume, "there will be -no trouble. We have always plenty of nice boys at the Court and they -will lose their heads over this Sleeping Beauty. For you are that, you -know," she added to Lesbia, "whatever the poor dear creature's name -may have been. But I have come at my husband's express desire to wake -you up, and to find a prince who will kiss you." - -"I have already got one," said Lesbia abruptly. "I am engaged!" - -Hale frowned, as he thought that she was too candid, but Lady -Charvington felt more satisfied than she had been. An engaged girl -would not be so dangerous. "Then we must ask your prince over to the -Court also," she declared effusively and kissed Lesbia again. "I have -brought over the car to take you back to dinner. Get your frocks and -frills, dear, and we shall start while the afternoon is yet warm." - -"Are you ready to go, Lesbia?" asked Hale, smiling artificially, for, -from the look on his daughter's face, he was not quite sure if she -approved of the invitation. - -But he need not have troubled. Lesbia did not like Lady Charvington -but, being anxious to see my lady's husband and tell him of her -troubles--since the sending of the cheque proved him to be a kindly -man,--made up her mind to overcome her mistrust and travel in the -motor car. "Everything is ready," she said quietly. "I have only one -box." - -"Oh, but, my dear, I wish you to stay for a week," protested the lady. - -"So I understood, and thank you very much," replied the girl with -enforced cordiality. "And the one box of clothes will be sufficient." - -"Dear me!" said Lady Charvington with a gasp, "what a careful girl you -must be. Why I take five boxes for a week's visit." - -"I am not rich enough to do that. Besides," added Lesbia smiling, "I -should only cumber up your motor car." - -"Oh, that is all right. It's a big thing and holds heaps. Have you -ever been in one, my dear girl?" - -"Lesbia has lived a very quiet life," interposed Hale quickly, "and -knows nothing of modern luxury." - -"Poor thing," said Lady Charvington, with a pitying glance. "I hope -your prince is wealthy," she added, turning to Lesbia. - -The girl smiled. "On the contrary, he is very poor." - -"Dear me! I seem to have found a paragon of virtue. But are you not -rather foolish, my dear girl? With such a face and such a figure and -with my influence you should make a better match." - -"So I tell her," cried Hale quickly; he was always on the watch to put -in a word, "and she is not really engaged, Lady Charvington. There is -some disagreement between Lesbia and Mr. Walker." - -"What a horrid name! So plebeian!" cried Lady Charvington. - -"George is not plebeian," said Lesbia, colouring hotly, "his father -was the Honourable Aylmer Walker." - -"Lord Casterton's third son," said the visitor, nodding. "Yes, I have -heard of him from my brothers. He was rather wild, was he not?" - -"Really I don't know." - -"There is no chance of his coming in for the title--your George, I -mean," prattled on Lady Charvington, "as Aylmer Walker's two elder -brothers have both heaps and heaps of children. I rather think that -Aylmer was the black ba-ba of the family. Well, there, I'm talking -scandal, a thing of which I highly disapprove. Go and get your things -on, dear, and tell your man to put your box on the motor. Wilkins will -help him. He's the chauffeur--not at all a bad driver, but oh, so -dreadfully reckless. Be prepared to go like the wind, my dear." - -Lady Charvington babbled on in this fashion with bird-like glances -here and there, taking in every detail of the room. She knew that Hale -was a poor relation of her husband's, and indeed had received him -twice or thrice at The Court near Maidenhead. But this was the first -time she had seen his daughter and, but for the express command of -Lord Charvington, she would not have asked her over. There was some -comfort in the fact that the girl's affections were engaged, but all -the same, such beauty, whether free or bound, would prove dangerous. -"I trust she won't interfere with my men," thought Lady Charvington as -she smiled sweetly on Lesbia leaving the tiny drawing-room. - -The girl summoned Tim to take her box to the motorcar which was -panting violently at the door, and went to her room to put on her hat. -She made a desperate attempt while doing so to overcome her dislike to -Lady Charvington, as she felt sure that for some reason the little -woman was hostile. Lesbia was too unsophisticated to put down the -hostility to the fact that Lady Charvington found her exasperatingly -beautiful, and was puzzled to think why any hostility should exist. -But it certainly was there, and Lesbia detected it immediately. -However, as she could see no reason for any such feeling existing -between her and a woman who--on the face of it--was doing her a -kindness, she fought desperately with her intuition. Still it seemed -to her that she was but leaving one abode of trouble to go to another, -wherein even more annoying things might happen. And the root of all -the worry was the missing cross. - -Tim took down the box and then returned to Lesbia's bedroom as she was -issuing therefrom. He drew her back mysteriously and produced a letter -cautiously from his inner pocket. "This is for you, Miss," he declared -in a whisper, "it came under cover to me by the mid-day post, with a -scratch av a pin saying Mr. Canning sint it, and 'twas to be given ye -at onct." - -"Mr. Canning!" Lesbia's face grew eager, and she hastily opened the -thin envelope to skim five or six lines written on foreign notepaper. -What she read surprised her, and she noted that the address given was -in a quiet street in Whitechapel. - - -"I have heard indirectly," wrote The Shadow, "that you are going some -time to The Court, Lord Charvington's place near Maidenhead. If you -do, keep a good watch, as two London thieves--the same who robbed -Tait's strong-room by Tait's direction--are about to try to steal Lady -Charvington's jewels when everyone is at dinner. The attempt will be -made on Thursday evening. I advise you to warn Lord Charvington, but -tell him not to bring in the police, as he will deeply regret doing -so. Yours always, C." - - -This mysterious letter, signed with Canning's initial, startled -Lesbia, For the moment she felt inclined to go down and tell her -father: but on second thoughts and with a discretion far beyond her -years, she decided to say nothing until she met her host. It was now -Tuesday, and the burglary was not arranged for until Thursday. There -was ample time. - -"It's nothing, Tim," she said mendaciously, putting the letter away. -"Good-bye for one whole week, you dear old thing," and she kissed him -fondly. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI -RECOGNITION - - -The Court, near Maidenhead, was Lord Charvington's chief country -residence on account of its proximity to London. It was a modern -mansion built in early Victorian days and, in accordance with the -taste of that period, had no great pretensions to architectural -beauty. In fact it might be called ugly, and was a huge, staring -barrack of a place, quite out of keeping with the beauty of the -surrounding grounds. These were of large extent, and so admirably laid -out that they made up for the deficiencies of the building, which, -after all, was comfortable enough within doors, if its external aspect -was uninviting. Modern luxury had made the many rooms very habitable, -and the barn--it looked like a barn--was furnished with the -magnificence of Aladdin's palace. - -Lesbia arrived with her hostess in time for afternoon tea and was -speedily introduced to Lord Charvington. There were at least ten -guests of fashionable London stopping for a few days and, while Lady -Charvington chatted with these, her husband made himself agreeable to -Miss Hale. She was very glad to find Charvington so agreeable and -sympathetic, for naturally her first plunge into society made her -somewhat shy. And her host was particularly attentive, quite in a -different way from Lady Charvington's careless hospitality. After a -few minutes' conversation Lesbia felt as though she had known him for -years, and was soon quite at her ease. In fact, Lady Charvington, at -the other end of the room, cast a displeased look in Lesbia's -direction, when she heard her laughing so gaily, and saw how her -pretty face was wreathed in smiles. Charvington was making a fool of -the girl, she thought, and indeed privately deemed it foolish that he -had lifted the girl into a circle so alien to her ordinary life, since -she had neither the money nor the experience to sustain her new -position. However, Charvington had made a point of his cousin's -daughter being asked, so Lady Charvington gave way, as she always did -to her husband in small things. - -Charvington was a tall and somewhat stout man, with a fresh-coloured -face and leonine masses of white hair worn somewhat long. He was -clean-shaven, with merry blue eyes filled with vigorous life, and -possessed a strong, calm voice, sympathetic and sweet. His manner was -brisk and lively, and more suited to youth than to age. Not that he -was so very old, for he certainly appeared as lively as the youngest -man in the room. Everyone in the West End knew Lord Charvington, as he -was rich and kind-hearted, two things which beget a very agreeable -reputation. Many a young man had to thank Charvington for help and -advice, and in an unostentatious way he did a great deal of good. When -Lesbia talked with him and became acquainted with his personality, she -no longer wondered that he had acceded so readily to her request for a -loan. The purse of such a genial man was always open to the needy, and -very often to the undeserving. - -"I am glad you have come over, Lesbia," he said admiringly, as they -sat in a quiet corner of the room far from the chattering guests. -"Hale did not tell me that you were so pretty. By the way, you must -not mind my calling you by your Christian name. I knew you when you -were but a baby, and it is my privilege, as your elderly cousin, to be -familiar." - -"I am very glad you _are_ familiar," said the girl, lifting her eyes -to the strong, kind face, "and I cannot forget that you sent me that -fifty pounds so kindly, without asking what I wished to do with it." - -"Pooh! pooh! That is nothing, child. Who should help you but I? -Whenever you are in want of money write to me, and you will receive a -cheque by return of post. I am your cousin, you know. And a very bad -cousin at that," added Charvington, with sudden energy. "I should have -had you here long ago. You must have led a dull life in Marlow." - -"No," answered Lesbia quietly, "there was always George." - -"Who is George?" - -"The man I love." - -"Oh!" Charvington's eyes twinkled more than ever; "you are engaged." - -"Yes and no." - -The man looked puzzled. "What do you mean? I don't like riddles." - -Lesbia sighed. "It is a riddle, and a very painful one. For that -reason I accepted your kind invitation and came over. I want to tell -you what I did with the fifty pounds, and also I wish to ask your -advice." - -"I shall be delighted to give it, but surely your father--" - -"My father"--Lesbia checked a scornful remark which was on the tip of -her tongue--"my father would take no interest in what I wish to tell -you." - -Charvington bent his brow and looked at her thoughtfully. "You shall -come to the library in the morning, and there we can have a chat," he -said. "Only one thing I ask you now: your father does not treat you -badly?" - -"No," faltered the girl, looking down; she could not betray her -father, although he had behaved so ill. "My father is--well enough," -she ended lamely. - -"Humph!" muttered Charvington, with his eyes still on her face. "Well, -well, we shall see! Meantime have some more tea," and he walked across -the room to have her cup filled. - -No more was said for the time being, but Charvington's kind manner -made Lesbia more determined than ever to confide in him. She believed -that she had at length found a friend who would aid her to withstand -the tyranny of her father, and who would assist to put things right -with her lover. They were crooked enough now in all conscience. -Moreover, in any case, she was forced to show him Canning's letter, so -that he might provide against the projected burglary. If she told this -much she would have to tell all, for only by making a clean breast of -it could she be extricated from the mire into which she had sunk, -through no fault of her own. All that evening she longed for the -morning, so that she might tell her new friend the many difficulties -which were making her miserable. - -Not that the evening was dull. On the contrary, as the mansion was -filled with lively, well-bred people, it was quite a revelation to -Lesbia in the way of enjoyment. Everyone seemed to be happy and -untroubled by care, which contrasted strongly with the incessant worry -which went on within the four walls of Rose Cottage. These society -people--outwardly at all events--seemed as careless gods, happy, -merry, and gloriously irresponsible. Later in life Lesbia learned what -sadness lurked under this frivolous, laughing exterior, but at this -time she was quite deceived, and thought to herself, "How happy are -the rich and well-born!" - -Lady Charvington's two daughters--not yet old enough to be -presented--were very nice girls, although they were decidedly -plain-looking. But they appeared to have none of their mother's -jealousy regarding Lesbia's beauty, and made much of her. She found -herself laughing and talking and entering into their girlish lives, -quite as if she had known them for many years. Lord Charvington seemed -particularly pleased that this should be so, and presided over the -trio like a benevolent wizard. For the most part Lesbia was with the -two girls during her visit, in spite of the attentions paid to her by -sundry youths smitten by her beauty. Seeing this, Lady Charvington -became much more gracious, and inwardly decided that Lesbia Hale knew -her place. All the same she was a trifle uneasy at the way in which -Charvington hovered round the pretty visitor. Not that she cared over -much for her husband, who was older than she was; nevertheless, she -did not like to see him paying marked attentions to anyone else. - -On the first evening, there was a small dance after a very splendid -dinner. Lesbia, in her simple white dress, attracted much notice, but -she preferred to talk to Agatha and Lena, Lord Charvington's -daughters, and to laugh at their father's mild witticisms. During a -lull in the dance there was some singing, and towards the end of the -evening an excellent supper. Lesbia retired at midnight, while yet -the festivities were in full swing. This was at Lord Charvington's -express wish, as he did not approve of youth losing any necessary -beauty-sleep. When she laid her head on the pillow and was falling -asleep, Lesbia confessed that she had enjoyed herself greatly. If -George had only been present the evening would have been perfect. - -Next morning, Agatha and Lena woke her early and took her round -the grounds. The girls exchanged confidences--chiefly about school -life,--ran races on the dewy sward, and entered filled with the joy of -life to eat a surprisingly good breakfast. Lady Charvington was rather -astounded at Lesbia's appetite. So pretty a girl, she decided, should -eat less and talk less. But Lesbia, although a fairy in looks, could -not live on fairy food, and enjoyed to the full the excellent meal -provided by the very capable chef of her host. "Horrid, greedy, pert -girl," thought Lady Charvington, who was all smiles and attention. "I -am sure I shan't like her!"--quite a needless thought, as she already -heartily disliked her visitor for other reasons than because she was -pretty. But these reasons Lesbia did not learn for some months. Then -they did not matter, as life had changed by that time for the better. - -After breakfast, Lord Charvington carried off his pretty little guest -to a noble room lined with books, and placing her in a most -comfortable arm-chair, took his own seat at his desk. "Now, my child, -what is it?" he asked. - -"It is rather difficult to begin," faltered Lesbia, feeling if she had -the fatal letter in her pocket. - -"Not with me, my dear. You know that you can trust me implicitly." - -"Yes," said Lesbia, raising her clear eyes to the kind face. "Well -then I shall begin from the time I gave George the amethyst cross." - -"What?" Charvington's ruddy face grew pale, and he pushed back his -chair with considerable violence; "the amethyst cross!" - -"Do you know anything about it?" asked Lesbia, astonished by his -change of colour and evident emotion. "It is lost you know--stolen." - -"Who stole it?" demanded the man mastering himself with an apparent -effort. - -"Listen," said Lesbia, and related everything from the time George -Walker had proposed to the moment of Lady Charvington's arrival at -Rose Cottage. But for the moment she said nothing of the letter from -Canning. That could keep until she heard what Charvington had to say -to the first part of her story. And it may be mentioned that Lesbia -spared her father as much as possible, while explaining her -difficulties. - -After his first violent movement, Lord Charvington listened in dead -silence, and his colour slowly returned. With his eyes averted, he -heard the whole extraordinary tale, without interruption, and only -when it was concluded did he speak. Then he gave but small comfort. "I -cannot understand what it all means," he said slowly. "I shall see -Hale, and doubtless he will be able to explain matters. But have no -fear, child, if you love George Walker, you shall marry him. I know -Mrs. Walker, and I knew her husband. A wild fellow was Aylmer Walker, -but not without his good points." - -"And you won't let my father have me watched again," said Lesbia -anxiously. - -"Certainly not," cried Charvington fiercely. "If I had known that, I -would have--but that's neither here nor there. Your father owes me too -much to disregard my wishes. I shall see that he leaves you your full -liberty and that he consents to your marriage with George. I hope he -is worthy of you, my dear--George I mean," he added wistfully. - -"Oh yes. He's the dearest, sweetest, best----" - -"There! There!" Charvington smiled a trifle drily. "I can see that -your heart is set upon being Mrs. Walker. Very good. I shall see that -George has an opportunity of earning money, so that you can marry -him." - -"And the cross?" - -"Never mind the cross just now," said Charvington hastily. "I shall -have to see your father about that. Later we can talk on the subject. -But this Tait," he drummed anxiously with his fingers on the table; -"I knew Tait many years ago. He always was a scoundrel, although I -did not think he would go so far as to join himself with professional -thieves----" - -"Oh," Lesbia drew the letter of Canning from her pocket, "I forgot. -Read this, Lord Charvington. It's a warning--only don't tell the -police." - -Her host mounted his pince-nez and read the missive in surprise. His -face grew a dark red, and he muttered a word which Lesbia luckily did -not overhear. Then he folded the letter and placed it in his pocket -without remark. - -"You won't tell the police," said Lesbia again and still anxiously. - -"No," said Charvington, rising, "from what Canning found out before, I -believe Tait is in this business also. I don't want for several -reasons to make a scandal connected with the man, although he deserves -to be gaoled for life. Still, I shall take precautions by having the -house watched. Also I must get my wife to put away her jewel-casket in -the safe. She is very careless about her jewels, and leaves the casket -in her bedroom, sometimes in a drawer or wardrobe, but more often open -on the dressing-table. The maid should put it away, of course, but -she's a half-blind old creature who was my wife's nurse, and neglects -things. But to-day is Wednesday and the burglary is arranged for -to-morrow evening when we dine. I shall see that my wife puts away her -jewels to-morrow evening. I shall go to her room and see that they are -safe before I go to dinner." - -"But why not to-day also?" asked Lesbia anxiously. - -"The burglary is not until to-morrow evening, child," said Charvington -kindly. "They are safe until then, as they have been safe for years in -spite of my wife's gross carelessness and trust in her neglectful old -nurse. No, my dear, you have given me a needed warning, so it is no -use bothering your head further. To-morrow, I shall make all safe. -When these two thieves find that the house is guarded, they will not -attempt the robbery." - -"Will you warn Lady Charvington?" - -"What! and have her fall into hysterics? No. I shall merely see that -the jewels are locked up nightly after to-morrow, and have the house -watched for a week or so. My wife need know nothing, my dear." - -"I shall keep my own counsel," said Lesbia, rising to leave the room, -"but I do wish you would have the jewels put away to-night, Lord -Charvington." - -"Well," he smiled kindly, "perhaps, as you are so anxious I shall. -But, as we know the time and date of the projected burglary, there is -no need." - -Lesbia went away, comforted to think that Charvington now knew all her -troubles, and would help her when it was necessary. Doubtless he would -procure George a good situation, and then she could marry her lover. -But the emotion of Charvington, when the amethyst cross was mentioned, -puzzled Lesbia greatly, as there appeared to be no reason for it. -However, she comforted herself with the reflection, that--as he had -promised--he would explain everything when the appointed time arrived, -and went to enjoy her holiday with the two girls. The enjoyment took -the form of a picnic and a run down the river on Lord Charvington's -fine steam launch. - -When the girls were out of the way, Charvington sought his wife and -pointed out to her the folly of leaving a case full of rich jewels on -her dressing-table. "They might be stolen," he remonstrated. - -Lady Charvington was not at all grateful. "You are always making a -fuss over the jewels," she said impatiently. "I have left the case in -my bedroom for years and I have never lost a single thing." - -"That doesn't say you might not lose the lot," snapped Charvington, -who found his wife trying even to his kindly nature. - -"There's time enough to talk when I do lose them." - -"Then it will be too late. I ask you to put them away every night in -the strong-room. Bertha can take the case there, when she has dressed -you for dinner." - -"Very well," said Lady Charvington, who was impatient to return to a -very interesting book she was reading. "I'll tell Bertha, though I'm -sure if the case is in my bedroom she can look after it well enough." - -"Pooh. She's half blind. Why don't you get a better maid?" - -"Bertha's been with me all my life, and I shall keep her until she is -past work. You have no heart, Charvington," she ended virtuously. - -"She's past work now," said her husband, as he stalked from the -boudoir. - -Nothing more was said, but had Charvington been in the house on that -Wednesday evening he would either have asked his wife if the jewels -had been put away, or have attended to the matter himself. But during -the day he suddenly decided to go up to London in order to see a -private detective whom he had employed before on various delicate -matters. It would be just as well, thought Charvington, to have this -man in the house on Thursday evening. Then, if the two thieves alluded -to by Canning did arrive, the man could lay hands on them. Not that -Charvington wished to make a public case of the matter, since, as he -had hinted to Lesbia, he was anxious to avoid scandal in connection -with Tait, whom he shrewdly suspected of having a hand in this new -piece of rascality. For this reason he went up to London to engage the -private detective, and remained in town for the night. Next day he -purposed coming back with his assistant and then the matter could be -settled quietly. Lady Charvington would not lose her jewels, and there -would be no trouble--publicly at all events--in connection with Mr. -Michael Tait. - -All that Wednesday Lesbia enjoyed herself on the river with her host's -daughters, in spite of the launch's breaking down temporarily on the -way back, in consequence of some accident to the engines. Consequently -it was not until seven o'clock at night that the three girls arrived -in Maidenhead, and it was thirty minutes past when they came to The -Court. Lady Charvington, who had been anxious about their non-arrival, -expressed herself as annoyed at their failure to be in to dinner, -which was at seven o'clock. She sent a message saying that Agatha and -Lena were to dine in their school-room with the governess. Lesbia -feeling herself a culprit--although on the face of it not one of the -three was to blame--decided to dine with the girls and to make her -apologies afterwards to Lady Charvington. And a very merry dinner they -had, for the governess was a charming, middle-aged lady, who made -everything very pleasant. And then the love of Agatha and Lena for -their newly-found cousin grew with every hour. On the whole, Lesbia -enjoyed that school-room meal more than the splendid dinner of the -previous night. She was the more pleased that she had remained absent, -as she was told by the governess that Lord Charvington was away in -London. - -After that merry meal, Lesbia went to change her dress in order to go -down to the drawing-room. Agatha and Lena followed to chatter and -help, as they did not like to be separated from their visitor. -Lesbia's room was on the first floor, near that of the girls, and on -the way the three had to pass the door of Lady Charvington's bedroom. -It was closed, but as they passed they heard a shriek of alarm, and -opening it at once saw one man escaping by the window, and another -struggling with Bertha, the ancient maid. Agatha and Lena ran away -screaming for help, but Lesbia dashed forward to help the old woman. -At that moment the man--who wore a mask--threw Bertha on the ground -and ran towards the window. Lesbia caught him before he could fling -his leg over the sill, and tore off the mask. Then she uttered a cry -of dismay and terror. - -"Father!" she shrieked, and dropped down in a dead faint. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII -DISGRACE - - -Next morning, Lesbia was sitting in her bedroom, thinking over the -terrible event of the previous night. She had remained in a faint for -a considerable time, and had recovered consciousness to find herself -lying on her bed. At once she had desired to see Lady Charvington, but -her hostess sent up a message asking that Lesbia should wait until the -arrival of Lord Charvington, who had been wired for. From the somewhat -pert behaviour of the maid who brought the message, the unfortunate -girl felt that she was in disgrace, and did not dare to resent it. -Having recognised her father in the man whose mask she had torn off, -she fancied that the whole household knew of the matter. But in this -she was wrong, as she learned, when Agatha, the elder of the girls, -came by stealth to her room about eleven o'clock at night. - -"I don't know what is the matter with mother," said Agatha speaking in -a whisper and keeping a watchful eye on the door, "she told Lena and I -that we were not to see you, or speak to you." - -"Why?" stammered Lesbia, feeling sick with shame. - -"I don't know. I suppose mother is angry at the loss of her jewels. -But my father always told her that she would lose them." - -"Have they caught the thieves?" - -"No. Lena and I screamed, and everyone came rushing, up. They found -Bertha lying half stunned on the floor, and you in a faint. The two -men had a motorcar at the gate and got away." - -Lesbia turned even whiter than she was. "Do they know who the men -are?" - -"Of course they don't. They wore masks, you know," said Agatha, "but -one mask was found on the floor. Bertha said that you pulled it off -the man who was struggling with her. Did you know his face?" - -"No," muttered Lesbia. The lie choked her, but she could not denounce -her own father, evil as he was. - -"I expect when I fainted he jumped from the window after his -companion, and managed to reach the motorcar. Has your father -returned, Agatha dear?" - -"No," answered the girl softly, "he is coming back in the morning. -Mother has brought in the police from Maidenhead, but I heard her tell -the chief man that you were too ill to be questioned until the -morning. Mother seems to be very angry with you, Lesbia. I wonder -why?" - -"I don't know, dear," said the girl, and indeed she did not. If the -names of the thieves were unknown, Lady Charvington could have nothing -against her. "But if your mother doesn't want you to speak to me, -Agatha, you must go back to bed. When the morning comes I shall see -your mother and ask what is the matter." - -"See father," said Agatha, pattering across the room with bare feet, -"he is fond of you: he told me so. Mother is always jealous of anyone -father likes and she will only be disagreeable. I waited till Lena was -asleep, then came here. But I'll go now," she returned to kiss Lesbia, -"good-night, dear, and don't worry. Everything will be right when -father comes back." - -Lesbia thought so also. She had implicit faith in Lord Charvington as -his daughter had, and knew that he would understand when he heard the -truth. But could she tell him the truth? Could she say that the man to -whom he allowed an annuity had crept into the house to steal the -jewels? And then Canning had said particularly that the two thieves -were the same that had robbed Tait's strong-room by Tait's direction. -In that case, her father was doubly a villain, as he was not only a -thief, but had tried to throw the blame of the first burglary on -George Walker in order to bring about a separation between them. Now -he had added a second crime to the first, and had robbed his -benefactor and cousin at the very time that his own daughter was a -guest in the house. Canning must have known of her father's guilt and -so, in his letter--for Lesbia's sake no doubt--had advised that the -police should not be brought in. But would Charvington keep the affair -quiet when his wife had lost her jewels? And in any case would he not -send from the house in anger the daughter of such a villain? It was -all terrible, shameful, disgraceful, and poor Lesbia sobbed herself to -sleep at the horror of it all. - -Next morning she could eat no breakfast, but after a cold bath to -freshen her up, dressed and sat by the window waiting for Lord -Charvington's arrival. At first she was inclined to see her hostess -and ask why she behaved so oddly. But the fancy was strong within her, -that Lady Charvington in some way must have learned the identity of at -least one of the thieves, and so was visiting the shame of the father -on the head of the innocent daughter. But then Lesbia could not -conjecture if this was true. As Lady Charvington had not entered her -bedroom until Hale escaped, she could not have recognised him, and as -Hale had escaped the truth would never become known unless Lesbia -spoke. This she did not intend to do, unless to Lord Charvington, whom -she could trust. She therefore waited patiently. At all events, as she -gathered from Agatha's report, whatever Lady Charvington suspected she -certainly had not informed the household, in spite of the demeanour of -the pert servant. Nevertheless, the very forbidding of the two girls -to see Lesbia pointed to doubts and hatred and knowledge of the worst -on Lady Charvington's part. - -As Lesbia sat there looking out on to the beautiful garden with -tear-filled eyes, she recalled many circumstances in her father's life -which brought home to her forcibly his wicked vocation. The sordid -persons who came by stealth to Rose Cottage must have been thieves and -fences who received stolen goods. Her father's mysterious actions and -frequent absences were accounted for by the fact, for when away he -probably had been robbing with his shameful associates. No wonder he -had laughed when George had proposed to leave Tait's office and join -him in business. And Tait also was a rogue and a scoundrel, belonging -to the gang of which Walter Hale was a member. Sargent might be a -thief also--but of this Lesbia could not be certain. Nevertheless, she -began to suspect that Canning _alias_ The Shadow had something to do -with the robberies. That would explain why a gentleman would descend -to being a spy. Canning was under Hale's thumb and would have to do -what he was told to do. Then she recollected how he had stated that -for telling her about Tait's scheme he would have to go into hiding. -There could be no doubt about it. Canning belonged to the gang and out -of gratitude had betrayed his sordid associates. - -Thinking thus Lesbia grew sick and faint. The thought of the -wickedness that surrounded her made her shiver. How could she expect -George to marry her when she was the daughter of a thief? And she -would be forced to tell him, since she could not marry him and keep -silent upon such an important point. To marry George without telling -him the truth would be to place herself in the power of her father. -And now knowing what her father was, Lesbia felt certain that to put -money into his pocket he would not stop short of blackmail. No, she -would have to tell what she had discovered to George and to Lord -Charvington, and thus in one moment she would lose the only two -friends she possessed. Tim remained and Lesbia knew that, come what -might, she could always depend upon the fidelity of the Irishman; she -felt sure that Tim was as innocent as herself of this dreadful -knowledge which had come to ruin her life. In all wide England there -was no more miserable girl than the unfortunate Lesbia, as she sat -weeping by the window and bidding farewell to happiness and -respectability. - -Towards noon a message was brought that Lord Charvington wished to see -her in the library, and Lesbia after washing away all traces of the -bitter tears she had shed descended the stairs. She was pale and worn, -but held herself proudly, for whatever might be known, she was -determined to face the worst. Several people were in the hall, and she -saw a policeman near the door. But no one looked at her in any way -suggesting that the terrible truth was known, so Lesbia entered the -noble library with a hope that her father had escaped recognition by -all save herself. - -Only two people were in the library, Lord Charvington and his wife. -The former was walking to and fro with a worried expression on his -kind face, but the latter seated in an arm-chair near the window -looked red with anger and apparently had been engaged in a furious -argument: "If you don't tell, I shall," she was saying when Lesbia -entered. - -"You shall say nothing," said Lord Charvington sternly. "Hold your -tongue as you have done. Hitherto you have displayed sense in keeping -silence and in silencing Bertha. Continue to behave and----" - -"Here's the girl," snapped Lady Charvington, interrupting as Lesbia -came silently into the room and closed the door. - -"Why do you speak of me in that way?" asked Lesbia, up in arms at -once. Knowing herself innocent, she did not intend to stand insult. - -"You will soon learn," retorted the other, curling her lip. "I wonder -you are not ashamed of yourself. And after all my kindness too, and -my----" - -"Silence, Helen," said Lord Charvington imperiously. "How dare you -talk to Miss Hale so insolently?" - -"Miss Hale," sneered his wife. "Why not call her Lesbia, as you have -done?" - -"I have every right to; she is my cousin." Lord Charvington made an -angry gesture to impose silence on his indignant wife, and turned to -the girl who stood pale and motionless. "My poor Lesbia, don't look so -woe-begone. I will stand by you whatever my wife may say." - -"What does she say?" asked Lesbia quietly. - -"You had better hear her when she is more composed," said Lord -Charvington with a glance at his wife, thereby arousing her to fresh -fury. "She will probably say something in the heat of the moment for -which she will be sorry. Helen, had you not better go and lie down?" - -Lady Charvington arose with a red spot burning on either cheek, and -her eyes glittered like those of an angry cat. "How dare you speak to -me like this in my own house, Charvington?" she cried in a shrill -voice. "I don't leave this room until you turn that shameless girl out -of doors." - -"What do you mean?" demanded Lesbia indignantly; but with a sinking -heart. - -"Mean," screamed the infuriated woman; "I mean that Bertha heard you -calling the masked man who attacked you, 'Father!' And you cannot deny -it. See, Charvington," she pointed tauntingly to the agonised girl, -"she dare not deny it. Oh you--you daughter of a thief; you accomplice -of a thief." - -"Helen, Helen; be silent." - -"I shall not be silent. When Bertha told me the truth I ordered her to -hold her tongue until you returned, Charvington. I have held my peace -myself and neither the police nor the servants nor our friends know -that this horrid girl is the daughter of a thief. Why you take such an -interest in the minx I don't know, but surely after what we have -discovered you will pack her off to gaol." - -"To gaol; to gaol," Lesbia drew herself up, pale, but fearless. As -Lady Charvington hurled her accusations, the girl's spirit rose to -defend herself. After all, guilty as her father might be, she at least -was innocent. "How dare you speak to me in this way?" she said again. - -"And how dare you face me, you cat?" snarled Lady Charvington, looking -much more like a cat herself. "You arrange with your abominable father -to rob me of my jewels, you enter my house to----" - -Before Lord Charvington could put out his hand to stop her--for he was -afraid to think what these two angry women might do--Lesbia glided -past him, and stood face to face with her enemy. "You lie," she -breathed in such a low, fierce voice that the other woman fell back -into her chair with a gasp of fear. "I knew nothing of this. I had no -wish to rob you of your jewels." - -"Yes, you had, and I know why!" - -"Explain then. I dare you to explain." - -Lady Charvington cast a swift glance at her husband. "I know what I -know." - -"You know that I am innocent," said Lesbia, clenching her hands; "I -dare you to say that I am not." - -"You are your father's accomplice." - -"That is untrue," broke in Lord Charvington smoothly, "Lesbia warned -me that the jewels would be stolen." - -"Of course," scoffed his wife triumphantly, "she knew!" - -"If I had been in league with my father would I have given the -warning?" - -"Yes," said Lady Charvington, rising to confront Lesbia, who had asked -the question. "My husband showed me the letter purporting to come from -some man in London. It said that the burglary was arranged for -Thursday, and by telling my husband that, he thought he might safely -leave the house and go to London to engage a detective, while your -father robbed the house on Wednesday. It's a well-arranged business." - -"I don't know why the burglary took place on Wednesday," said Lesbia -steadily; "the letter I gave Lord Charvington is perfectly true. I -can't explain further than I have done." - -"Because you can't; because you can't," taunted Lady Charvington, "but -you shall leave my house in disgrace." - -Lord Charvington caught his wife's wrist. "Lesbia shall return to her -home this day," he said imperiously, "because I won't have her -stopping here to be insulted by you. Bertha will say nothing of what -she overheard, as I have forbidden her to speak on the pain of instant -dismissal. You also, Helen, shall hold your tongue." - -"I will do nothing of the sort," breathed Lady Charvington -vindictively. - -"You shall. I will not permit you to ruin an innocent girl. Knowing -that Hale has stolen your jewels, I can get them back, and have -already communicated with him." - -"The police----" - -"The police can do nothing. Hale and his accomplice got away cleverly -in their motorcar and cannot be traced. If the jewels are returned -intact--which they will be, as I can force Hale to return them--the -police will not move further in the matter, as I can stop them. Then -this painful episode will be a thing of the past." - -"I want that girl disgraced as an accomplice," said the elder woman, -grinding her teeth and pointing towards Lesbia. - -Charvington put his arm round Lesbia's waist or she would have fallen. -"I shall not allow it, Helen," he said quietly. "Lesbia is innocent. -Woman, have you no pity for the poor thing; surely she is suffering -enough already, in finding out that her father is a thief." - -"Her father," jeered Lady Charvington insultingly. "Oh, yes, her -father," she moved swiftly towards the library door. "If you get back -my jewels I shall hold my tongue, for reasons which you may guess, -Charvington. But don't let that creature come near me, or I shall--I -shall--oh." Lady Charvington could scarcely contain herself. "How I -hate you; hate you. I wish you were dead with all my heart and soul, -you--you----" - -What she was about to say in her furious anger Lesbia could not guess. -But whatever it was she never uttered the epithet. Charvington -suddenly moved towards his wife and towering above her glared into her -eyes. "If you say another word I'll kill you." - -Lady Charvington quailed. "You are quite capable of doing so," she -breathed undauntedly; "I'm not afraid of you. But clear my house of -that," and with a jeering laugh, she pointed at the trembling girl and -left the room. - -"What--what does she mean?" gasped Lesbia, sinking into a chair, her -courage all gone. "What have I done? How can I help my father--my -father--oh Lord Charvington!" and she broke down weeping bitterly. - -"Hush! hush!" He stood over her, patting her heaving shoulder. "She -doesn't know what she is saying. I'll see that she holds her tongue -and Bertha also. Nothing will ever be known of your father's -complicity in this crime." - -"But what does it mean?" asked Lesbia, lifting a tear-stained face. - -"God knows," muttered Charvington moodily, "I have been mistaken in -your father, my dear." - -"But--but you don't blame me?" - -"No," he declared emphatically, "a thousand times no. My dear, I love -you as if you were my own child, and I shall never, never believe any -harm of you in any way. I can keep my wife's tongue silent, but I can -do no more. You must return to Marlow, until such time as I can -arrange further about your marriage with George Walker." - -"Oh," Lesbia wailed and stretched her arms, "I cannot marry him now. -Who would marry the daughter of a thief? Father was one of the thieves -who robbed Mr. Tait's strong-room." - -"At Tait's request remember," interpolated Charvington quickly. - -Lesbia brushed away the speech. "Oh, what does it matter even if they -are all thieves. But George must have known the dreadful truth and so -he will not renew our engagement. I did not understand him before; I -do now." - -"There! there!" Charvington patted her shoulder again, "don't worry. -All will come right, I am sure, and in a way which you do not expect." - -Lesbia looked up with sudden hope. "You know of something." - -"Yes," said the man gloomily. "I know of something. Don't ask me any -further questions just now, but go back to Marlow. The motorcar is -already at the door with your box on it. As all our other guests have -left the house, your departure will cause no surprise." - -"But the police. Will they not want to question me?" - -"I'll attend to that. I told the inspector that if necessary he could -question you at Rose Cottage. But as I hope to make your father give -back the jewels, the prosecution will be dropped. Remember, the police -do not know that your father is guilty. Being thus ignorant, they can -do nothing. Go away in peace, my dear, and leave everything to me." - -Lesbia rose shuddering. "How can I go back to my father, knowing what -I now know?" she murmured, shivering. - -"You go back to the cottage," explained Charvington distinctly. "It is -my cottage, as I pay the rent; the furniture also is mine. I have -supported your father for years and this is the way he repays me. -However, the cottage is yours. I promise you that your father will not -come near you." - -"I trust not! I trust not. I could not face him. And you?" - -"I shall come over and see you shortly. But go away, contented to know -that all is well. There will be no scandal, and not a word will be -said about this burglary. Your father is safe and you are safe. Later, -I shall see about getting your father to go to Australia, and then you -can marry Walker." - -"If he will have me," sighed the unfortunate girl. - -"Lesbia," Charvington took her face between his two hands and looked -into her eyes; "I swear that you shall marry him. There! Let the dead -past alone and dream of future happiness," and he kissed her solemnly. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII -LADY CHARVINGTON'S ACCUSATIONS - - -While Lesbia was thus having so miserable a time, George Walker was -living very quietly, sometimes in London, but more often in Medmenham. -He carefully avoided all mention of Lesbia's name, and when his mother -questioned him regarding his reason for refusing to renew the -engagement he declined to explain. Mrs. Walker was much annoyed by -what she termed his mule-headedness as, after her visit to Rose -Cottage, she was quite willing that Lesbia should become her -daughter-in-law. - -"I cannot understand you, George," said Mrs. Walker to her son during -one of their frequent wrangles. "When I objected to this girl, nothing -would do but that you must marry her. Now that I have taken a fancy to -her, you refuse to have anything to do with her. I never thought a son -of mine would blow hot and cold in this silly fashion." - -"I am not blowing hot or cold," returned George gloomily; he was very, -very gloomy in those days and had lost all his light-heartedness. -"Lesbia is the only girl in the world that I care to marry. But how -can I make her my wife, when I haven't a penny to keep her with?" - -"That is mere evasion. Things are very little changed from the time -you would have married her in the teeth of poverty." - -"There is this much change, that I have lost my situation with Tait -and am now living on my mother, which is the meanest thing a man can -do. How then can I renew my engagement with Lesbia?" - -"Because I wish you to," said Mrs. Walker promptly, and bent her black -brows. - -"I understood you hated her." - -"Indeed, I never did," she rejoined sharply. "How could I hate anyone -whom I had never seen? Don't be a fool, George. I certainly hated her -father and I hate him still, for a very good reason, which it does not -concern you to know. But after I saw the girl I repented that I had -not been to see her before, since you loved her. She is an innocent -darling, and I should like no one better for my daughter. It would be -unfair to visit the sins of the father on so sweet a child." - -"Yet if the child wasn't sweet," said George drily, "you would not -mind doing so. You are somewhat inconsistent." - -"I am not so inconsistent as you are," said his mother, skilfully -avoiding a reply by carrying the war into hic camp. "What I wish to -know is--why do you decline to renew your engagement?" - -"I have no money and no situation." - -"That isn't the true reason. - -"It is the sole reason which I choose to give." - -"There is no necessity to be rude, George," said Mrs. Walker with -great dignity. "Cannot you get another situation?" - -"Not easily. Tait will give me no references, nor do I care to ask him -for any. Situations are hard to get without references." - -Mrs. Walker clasped her strong, white hands together and frowned. "It -is quite absurd that my son and the son of your father should be a -mere clerk in the City," she burst out. "Can't you do something -better?" - -"No," replied George gloomily. "I am not clever, and I have not been -brought up to any trade." - -"Trade! Trade! My son in trade." - -George was sad enough at heart, yet could not forbear smiling at the -horror expressed on her countenance. "There is nothing disgraceful in -trade," he remarked quietly. "My grandfather Morse was a merchant." - -"And your grandfather Casterton was an earl," snapped Mrs. Walker. -"There's your uncle, the present owner of the title. Why not go to -him, and see if he cannot assist you?" - -"And when I ask him, what excuse can I make?" - -"He is your uncle: he has every right to assist you." - -"I fear he might not see things in the same light, mother. Besides I -have no qualifications." George paused, then added gloomily: "An -out-of-door colonial life would suit me. Give me enough to get to -Canada or Australia, mother, and there I can carve my way." - -"What about me?" asked Mrs. Walker reproachfully. - -"I would make a home for you beyond the seas and you can come out -later." - -Mrs. Walker shook her head. "I am too old to travel so far," she said -grimly, "moreover, I intend to wait until I get the fortune of my -sister. She is dead: I am sure from what Walter Hale says that there -is no child, so in the end Jabez must give me the fifty thousand -pounds. That money would put all things right: your marriage -included." - -"Not with Lesbia," said the young man colouring. "There is no chance -of our coming together. Besides, to get the money you must find that -cross." - -"Nothing of the sort," said his mother quickly, "Jabez only requires -its production by a possible child, as a means of identification, a -very silly idea I call it. But he knows that I am Judith Morse, and so -by my father's will inherit, now that my sister is dead." - -George shook his head doggedly. "I believe that you will never get the -fortune until that cross is found." - -"Then find it." - -"I can't. I have tried my best to learn who assaulted me and robbed -this cottage, but I am still in the dark." - -This ended the conversation for the time being. But as the days went -by Mrs. Walker still continued to express her disgust at George's -obstinacy regarding Lesbia. She knew that he still loved the girl, and -could not think why he should refuse to renew the engagement in the -face of Lesbia's letter. Of course the excuse of having no situation -was rubbish, so Mrs. Walker decided, as Lesbia was willing to marry -him without one penny. If he truly loved her, as she did him, poverty -would be no bar. When was poverty ever a bar to the union of two young -hearts? Even admitting that George wanted to provide a home before -renewing the engagement, he surely could have seen Lesbia and -explained his reasons for behaving as he was doing. But he never went -near Marlow, and refused to mention her name. As Mrs. Walker, being as -obstinate as her son, insisted on discussing his unfortunate love -affair, and wrangling over the same, George took to remaining for days -in London on the plea that he was looking for work. Time thus passed -very miserably for the grim widow. - -One day George came down with the news that he had received a note -from Lord Charvington, asking him to call at The Court, Maidenhead. -Why he should wish to see him George could not guess, as he had never -met him. But in the letter Charvington said that he had been a friend -of Aylmer Walker, and so desired the interview. Mrs. Walker was also -puzzled. She was well acquainted with Lord Charvington, but after her -scampish husband's death she had kept away from the former society she -frequented, on account of her poverty. - -All the same, she advised George to keep the appointment, which was -made for the next day, if only to hear what Charvington had to talk -about. - -It was strange, a coincidence in fact, that Lady Charvington's motor -should stop on the afternoon of that very day at the gate of the -Medmenham cottage. Never before to George's knowledge had his mother -mentioned Lord Charvington's name, yet on the very day when it was on -her lips, because of the letter, the wife of the nobleman arrived to -pay a visit. Why she should do so was not quite clear, and Mrs. Walker -entered the drawing-room with a frown. She and her sister Kate had -been school-girls together, and she had never approved of the lady. -Her greeting was very cold. - -"How are you, Helen?" she said, extending the tips of her fingers. "It -is a surprise to see you in my humble abode." - -"I would have called before, only I knew that you did not wish to see -me, Judith," said Lady Charvington, sinking gracefully into the -nearest arm-chair; "but I have come on business." - -Mrs. Walker sat also, and folded her hands on the lap of her black -dress with her usual grim smile. "Of course, I knew that you would not -waste your valuable time in coming for nothing. But what business you -can have with me I fail to see. We were never good friends, and you -positively hated Kate because she was prettier than you." - -"She never was," said Lady Charvington hotly, and glanced in the -silver-framed hand-mirror, which stood on the table at her elbow. -"Kate had not my complexion, nor my hair." - -"Nor your nasty temper," snapped Mrs. Walker, who felt extremely nasty -herself; "but I don't know why we should talk of good looks at our -age." - -"I am not old, Judith: you are older than I am." - -"Quite so, and I wear ever so much better. You look twice your age." - -Lady Charvington made a face. "You were always a disagreeable girl," -she pouted, "I daresay I am growing no younger, but you need not tell -me so. As to my looks, if you were as worried as I am, you would not -look your best either. So I--who is that?" she inquired as George, -ignorant that his mother had a visitor, tapped at the French window of -the drawing-room. - -"My son George," said Mrs. Walker, rising to admit him. - -"Oh!" cried Lady Charvington vivaciously. "Lesbia's George." - -"My son, Lady Charvington," said Mrs. Walker, introducing the pair. -"George, this is an old friend of mine." - -Lady Charvington looked at the splendidly handsome young man -and secretly envied her hostess. Neither of her children was so -good-looking, and moreover, what she always regretted, she had -provided no heir to the title. - -"So you are Lesbia's George," she said again, not offering her hand, -but putting up her lorgnette. "Well, the girl has taste." - -George coloured under her impertinent gaze and at the sudden mention -of Lesbia. He no more expected Lady Charvington to mention the girl -than he had expected she would arrive on the very day when her name -had first been mentioned in the cottage--that is, her husband's name. -"What do you know of Lesbia, Lady Charvington?" he asked, taking a -chair. - -She gave an artificial laugh. "Nothing very creditable." - -The young man started and grew an angry red. Mrs. Walker frowned, and -making a sign that her son should be silent, spoke for him. "What do -you mean by running down the girl, Helen? Let me tell you that -Lesbia's name must be mentioned in this house only with respect." - -"Oh, I know that she loves your son, and that he loves -her--unfortunately." - -"Why so?" asked George very directly, and still red with anger. He was -beginning to dislike this pretty, perfumed, dainty woman, who looked -as frivolous as his mother was stately. - -"Because she is, I shrewdly suspect, a--a----" Lady Charvington -hesitated, for the young man looked so angry, and Mrs. Walker so grim, -that she feared to bring out the hateful word. "Well, the fact is," -she rattled on, "I have lost an amethyst cross, and I believe this -Lesbia Hale has taken it." - -"An amethyst cross," repeated George, astonished, too much so in fact -to repel the accusation against Lesbia with the promptitude he wished. -"A cross consisting of four amethyst stones with a green cube of -malachite in the centre bearing a crown, and inscribed 'Refuse and -Lose'?" - -"Yes." Lady Charvington was astonished. "Do you know it?" - -"Of course I do. It belongs to me." - -"To you. Impossible. It is, as I believe the property of Lord -Charvington, and was stolen with other jewels from The Court a few -days ago." - -"But how did it get to The Court--how did it come into your -possession?" - -"It came into my possession a few weeks ago. I entered the library -during my husband's absence and found this cross on his table. -Wondering why he had such a jewel, and thinking that he had bought it -for me, I took it to my room. Charvington went away before I could -speak to him about it and never made any inquiries--strange to say--as -to its being taken away, I placed it in my jewel case, and forgot all -about it. Then my case was stolen by two London thieves a few days -ago, and the cross also." - -"You declared that Lesbia stole it," said Mrs. Walker grimly, "and now -you say that two thieves----" - -"Lesbia was in league with them." - -George sprang to his feet. "That's wholly false, Lady Charvington. -That is----" he became aware of his rudeness and stammered, "you--you -must be mistaken." - -"I am never mistaken," said the visitor in icy tones. "Your son has -not very good manners, Judith." - -"They are my manners," said Mrs. Walker fiercely, "and don't you find -fault with them. He has only said what I intended to say, only more -politely." - -Before Lady Charvington could snap out a reply, George, now very pale, -intervened. "Perhaps, madam, you will explain upon what grounds you -base this charge against Miss Hale." - -"Oh, certainly," rejoined Lady Charvington sharply, "the whole world -might know what I have to say, and the whole world would," she added -spitefully, "only my husband, who seems to have taken a fancy to this -girl, has hushed up the matter." - -"He has more sense than you have," muttered Mrs. Walker, "badly as he -treated----" she checked herself with a side glance at George, "but -that is neither here nor there. Go on, Helen, and explain." - -Lady Charvington, in order to make George writhe--for she saw that he -loved Lesbia deeply, and resented the fact--was only too ready to give -details of the robbery at The Court with all the venom of which her -very bitter tongue was capable. She related everything that had -happened from the hour of Lesbia's arrival, to the moment of her -departure. "And in disgrace," ended the lady exultingly, "certainly -private disgrace, since for some silly reason Charvington made me hold -my tongue, but disgrace nevertheless. Now what do you think?" - -"Think"--George, standing with a white face and clenched hands, took -the words out of his mother's mouth--"I think that you are a very -wicked woman, Lady Charvington. Lesbia is as innocent as a dove." - -"I know nothing of the morals of doves," retorted Lady Charvington -coolly, "but you seem to forget that I stated how this girl's father -was one of the thieves. Who the other one was I can't say, but Lesbia -certainly recognised her father. Bertha, my maid, heard her -exclamation, while she was lying half stunned on the floor." - -"I am not astonished," said Mrs. Walker bitterly. "Walter Hale is -capable of all things, although I did not know that he would descend -quite so low. I never liked him as you did, Helen." - -"Leave the past alone," said Lady Charvington with an angry gesture; -"but you can see that this Lesbia creature was her father's -accomplice." - -"Speak more respectfully of Lesbia if you please," said George in a -cold white fury. "She is perfectly innocent, and knew no more of her -father's wickedness than----" - -"Than you did, I suppose." - -"You are wrong. I knew some weeks ago, that Walter Hale had to do with -a gang of thieves." - -"George," cried his mother aghast; "you never told me." - -"There was no need to," he said quickly, "I know that Hale, acting by -Tait's orders, stole the jewels from----" - -"Was this why you broke your engagement with Lesbia, or rather why you -would not renew it?" - -"That was the reason," said George awkwardly. - -Mrs. Walker stood up sternly. "Then you believe that Lesbia is an -accomplice." - -"No, I don't. My reason is different." - -"You refuse to marry the daughter of a thief perhaps," said Lady -Charvington mockingly. - -"I do not. My reason--never mind. I can explain my reason to Lesbia -when I see her," said George, standing very straight and looking very -determined. - -"You intend to see her, then?" asked his mother. - -"This very evening." - -"I shall come also," said Mrs. Walker quickly. - -"If that is so," drawled Lady Charvington, "perhaps you will ask her -what she has done with the cross." - -"She has not got it," cried George. "How can she have it when you -declared that her father stole it and----" - -"Oh," Lady Charvington laughed cruelly, "I daresay her father gave her -the amethyst cross, as her share of the plunder." - -"Helen, hold your bitter tongue," cried Mrs. Walker wrathfully. - -"If you speak of Lesbia in that way, or dare to smirch her fair fame," -said George very deliberately, "I shall make it my business to make -things unpleasant all round." - -"As how?" asked Lady Charvington, putting up her lorgnette. - -"To-morrow I am to see Lord Charvington by appointment----" - -"I was not aware that you knew my husband." - -"I do not, but he wrote to me, and I am to see him." - -"Ah!" drawled Lady Charvington coolly, "perhaps knowing that you love -this wretched girl my husband intends to arrange that you shall marry -her and take her out of the country." - -The young man restrained his anger by a violent effort. "Perhaps you -are correct, madam," he said in a thick voice and breathing hard. "But -I shall also ask Lord Charvington how the cross came to be in his -possession." - -"No!" Lady Charvington shrieked and seemed much perturbed. "You must -not do that." - -"Madam," said George in a stately manner and following up his -advantage, "I am the owner of that cross, which was given to me by -Miss Hale. I was assaulted on the towing-path so that I might be -robbed of it. As the thief did not find it on my person he burgled -this cottage and took it from my room. I have every right to ask Lord -Charvington how he became possessed of it." - -The visitor rose with rather a pale face but quite composed, and shook -perfume from her costly draperies as she gathered up her belongings to -depart. "Things are bad for Lesbia Hale as it is," she said -composedly. "I advise you to ask no questions of my husband, or he may -withdraw his protection from her. If he does, she is disgraced, -publicly." - -"I don't believe it," said Mrs. Walker, crossing to the window and -opening it. "You can leave my cottage by this way, Helen, and the -sooner the better." - -Lady Charvington swept towards the French window with a careless -laugh, obviously forced. "I am only too willing to go," she declared. -"I only came over to ask you to question Lesbia Hale as to what she -has done with my amethyst cross." - -"Mine, pardon me," said George firmly, as he held the window open, -"and you may be sure that I shall marry Lesbia and protect Lesbia even -against you who seem to hate her, Heaven only knows why." - -"Your mother knows," sneered Lady Charvington. "Well, do what you -like, only remember that I have warned you!" and with these ominous -words she took her welcome departure. - -"What is next to be done?" asked Mrs. Walker, when the motor hummed -away. - -"We must see Lesbia," said George firmly. "What has been said brings -us together at last." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX -MR. HALE EXPLAINS - - -When Lesbia returned to Rose Cottage, after her unlucky visit to The -Court, she found that her father had never been near the place. Tim, -who was alone in the house when she arrived, explained that Hale had -gone to London within an hour of Lesbia's departure with Lady -Charvington in the motor car. There was nothing in this to surprise -the little Irishman, as Hale's comings and goings were always more or -less abrupt. But he was amazed and startled when he heard what Lesbia -had to tell; the revelation being occasioned by Tim's distressed -remark on the girl's pallor. - -"Ah now, Miss, an' what hey ye bin doin' wid yer purty silf at all, at -all? Sure the face av ye's as white as a carpse." - -Lesbia burst into tears. "Oh Tim, I sometimes wish that I was one, for -I feel so very miserable. George will have nothing to do with me; Lady -Charvington hates me, and my father, my father----" - -"Phwat av him?" asked Tim anxiously. - -"Can't you guess?" asked Lesbia, drying her eyes, and wondering how -much or how little the man knew of Hale's rascalities. - -Tim's face remained passive, but he could not keep a certain amount of -anxiety out of his eyes. "Sure, the masther isn't a good man," he said -in a hesitating manner, "he trates ye like a brute baste, Miss." - -"It's worse than that," sobbed Lesbia, breaking down again. - -The servant changed colour and raised his hands in mute despair. When -he did find his voice, it was to ask a leading question. "An' how much -do ye know, me dear?" - -"I know that my father is a thief." - -"Augh! the shame av it," muttered Tim, but did not contradict. - -Lesbia noticed that he was less surprised than he should have been. -"You knew that." - -"Mary be good to us all!" said Tim sadly. "But I know a mighty lot I'd -rather not know, me dear. But are ye sure, Miss?" - -Lesbia sat up, dried her eyes, and detailed all that had happened. Tim -listened in dismayed silence with his sad eyes on her pale face, and -she heard him grind his teeth when it came to an account of Lady -Charvington's accusation. When she ended he still kept silence. - -"What do you think of it all, Tim?" asked his mistress, anxious to -hear what he had to say. - -"It's black lies that woman spakes," cried Tim vehemently. "Ye nivir -knew av the masther's wrongdoin'." - -"Did you, Tim?" - -"I knew a trifle, an' guessed a mighty lot. Nivir ask me, miss, phwat -I know till his lardship--an' sure he's a good man--spakes the wurrd. -But I know wan thing, me dear heart, that the blackest clouds have the -blissid sun behint thim." - -"There is no sun behind these clouds," said Lesbia, sighing. - -"An' there yer wrong, Miss," said Tim briskly. "Sure, whin them clouds -do let the blissid sun sind out th' light av him, ye'll foind pace an' -happiness an' joy galore. Lave things to his lardship. The crass began -the throuble, an' the crass will end that same." - -"Tim! Tim, what do you know about the cross?" - -"Ah, nivir ask me phwat I know," croaked Tim again. "There's whales -within whales, me dear, an' me mouth's bin saled fur many a year. But -whin his lardship spakes I spake, and thin ye'll be as happy as thim -who dwell in Tirnanoge." - -"What's that, Tim?" - -"The land av youth where ye and Masther Garge shud be, an' will be, -whin the blissid saints in glory let ye come into ye'r own." And after -delivering himself of this agreeable prophecy, Tim shuffled away to -prepare dinner. - -Lesbia was much astonished at the hints thus given, and also much -perplexed. Tim seemed to know of the significance of the amethyst -cross, of the rascality of her father, and also he appeared to know -about Lord Charvington as a possible _deus ex machina_, who would make -the crooked quite straight. Later in the evening she questioned the -little man persistently, but Tim, as wily as an otter, evaded a direct -reply, only insisting that everything would come right in a most -unexpected way. With this Lesbia would scarcely have been content, but -that her attention was taken away from the future to deal with the -present. - -Urged by Tim, and now feeling more hopeful as she recalled -Charvington's promise to stand by her, Lesbia made a moderately good -dinner. While Tim was washing up in the kitchen, she sat near the -window of the tiny parlour reading the first book that came to hand. -But the pages did not interest her and, moreover, it soon grew too -dark to read without lights. Lesbia did not call for these, as she -liked the pensive twilight, and so dreamed of George and future -happiness in the gloaming. There was just light enough to see across -the room, so she started with surprise and indignation when she saw -her father suddenly appear in the doorway. He looked much the same as -usual, but then the light was not strong enough to permit her to see -the shame which must certainly have appeared on his face. - -"Why have you come here?" asked Lesbia, rising indignantly. - -"I have assuredly a right to enter my own house," retorted her father. - -"It is not your house," she replied boldly. "Lord Charvington told me -that it belonged to him, and declared that you would come here no -more." - -"Ah!" Hale lounged into the room, and dropped with a sigh of fatigue -into a chair. "Charvington proposed more than he could perform; he -always did." - -"How did you come in?" - -"By the back door, which was open. I rowed up from Cookham." - -"You can't stop here," said Lesbia firmly. - -"You can't prevent me," said her father, with a sneer. - -"I can leave the house, and I will." - -"Where will you go?" - -"To Mrs. Walker; she will protect me. I will throw myself on her -mercy. But I refuse to remain under the same roof as you." - -Hale winced at the scorn in her tones. "You seem to forget that you -are speaking to your father," he said in an icy manner. - -"God help me!" cried the girl, with a gesture of despair; "I wish I -could forget. You have brought shame upon me." - -"Oh, rubbish," said Hale crossly. "I received a letter from -Charvington in London just before I came down to Cookham which stated -that if I restored the jewels everything would be hushed up." - -"And you will do so?" - -"I have to," said Hale grudgingly. "It's an infernal nuisance after -all my trouble, but Charvington says that he will set the police on my -track if I don't act square. I shall return the jewels to-morrow, and -then everything will be put right. There is no disgrace to you." - -"Isn't there?" said Lesbia, with a bitter laugh. "You appear to have -forgotten that Bertha, the maid, heard my recognition of you, and told -her mistress. Lady Charvington accused me of being your accomplice, -and but that our cousin made her hold her tongue and silenced the -maid, I should have been arrested as knowing your rogueries and -sharing in them." - -Hale muttered an oath between his teeth. "Upon my word that's too -bad," he said half apologetically. "The woman had no right to speak of -you in that way, as you are as innocent as a babe. However, if -Charvington has hushed that up also, there is no harm done." - -"Father," cried Lesbia, moving forward to confront him, "can you think -that I will consent to live with you, now that I know of your -wickedness?" - -"What do you know, other than that I took Lady Charvington's jewels?" -asked her father, defiantly. - -"I know that you stole Mr. Tait's jewels by his direction." - -"Who dares to say that?" demanded Hale, starting fiercely to his feet. - -"Mr. Canning----" - -"Mister," sneered Hale, savagely, "since when has he earned such -respect." - -"Mr. Canning is a gentleman and Captain Sargent's brother," said -Lesbia in calm, easy tones. Now that she had come to close grips with -her father she felt singularly cool. - -Hale muttered a second oath. "I knew that The Shadow had betrayed us," -he said ominously; "well, he shall pay for his treachery. His silly -gratitude to you for nursing him has made him dishonourable to us." - -"Dishonourable!" cried Lesbia, scornfully. - -"Why not?" scoffed her father, "There is honour amongst thieves." - -"And _you_ are a thief." - -"I am," said Hale, shamelessly. "I was driven to such courses because -I wanted money. You may as well know the worst, for I----" - -"Oh!" Lesbia threw up her hand, feeling sick at heart. "Don't tell me -any more. Leave this house and never see me again." - -Hale settled himself firmly in his chair. "I will do nothing of the -sort," he declared; "this is my house, whatever Charvington may say. -Here I am and here I rest. There's a French soldier's saying for you," -he sneered. - -"Oh," Lesbia sighed as she looked up, "will nothing make this man -ashamed?" - -"Nothing!" Hale put his legs up on another chair, "absolutely -nothing." - -At this moment there came a sharp ring of the front door bell. Hale -started to his feet with an ejaculation, and Lesbia could guess that -his shameless face had turned white in the shadowy twilight. -Apparently he expected the police, as she gathered from his broken -mutterings. "But it is impossible," he breathed, clenching his hands; -"Charvington said that he would say nothing if the jewels were sent -back. I shall send them to-morrow, and if there is a--ah!" - -The two listening in the half-dark room heard Tim shuffle along the -narrow passage and open the door. A moment later and Mrs. Walker's -voice, cold and haughty, struck on their ears. Hale wiped his face and -heaved a sigh of relief. "Don't betray me to that woman," he -whispered. - -"I shall not," said Lesbia, quietly, "after all, bad as you are, I -cannot forget that you are my father." - -Even as the last word dropped from her mouth, the door opened and Mrs. -Walker was ushered into the room. Behind her came Tim bearing high a -lamp to light her way. The radiance revealed Lesbia white and -shrinking and the defiant face of Walter Hale. - -"The masther, howly saints!" muttered Tim, setting down the lamp; then -he addressed Lesbia, quietly: "Will I bring more lights, Miss, av ye -plase?" - -"No thank you, Tim, this lamp will be enough. Shut the door." - -Without a single glance at his master, Tim departed and left the trio -together. Mrs. Walker, standing just within the room, had said -nothing. Only when the door was closed did she speak. "I did not -expect to find you here, Mr. Hale," she said with contempt and -scarcely concealed surprise. - -"And where should I be, save in my own house?" he asked, lightly. - -"In gaol," she snapped, "and there you would be, had I my way." - -Hale raised his eyebrows. "I do not understand," he remarked, coolly. - -"Yes, you do, and you will understand completely when I tell you that -Lady Charvington came to see me to-day." Hale uttered an exclamation -of rage and vexation. "Yes, you may well swear, for she told both -George and myself about the robbery at The Court. What do you say to -that, you detected scoundrel?" she asked, sternly. - -"Hush!" he muttered, gruffly, "my daughter is present." - -"I am glad she is, I want her to know what you are." - -"I do know," faltered Lesbia, weakly, "and oh!"--she covered her face -to sink in a passion of tears on the sofa--"it is shameful: shameful." - -Mrs. Walker looked at Hale, still defiant and hard-faced. "I would -have spared you this for the girl's sake," she breathed, "but she -caught you red-handed, so there is nothing to conceal." With a stern -look at him, she glided to the sofa and took the shrinking, fragile -form of the unhappy girl in her strong arms: "Lesbia, my love," she -said tenderly, and the change in her voice was extraordinary, "I have -come to stand by you. That man is not fit to have charge of you. Come -with me, to-night, to Medmenham." - -"Oh no--no--George----" - -"George knows all that you know, that I know. He was present when Lady -Charvington came to tell us of what had taken place." - -"And George despises me," wept Lesbia, burying her face in Mrs. -Walker's bosom. - -"Don't be ridiculous, child, don't be foolish. How can he despise you -when you are innocent and he loves you?" - -"Loves me--loves me," Lesbia looked up startled; "but he refused to -renew our engagement although I abased myself to the dust to regain -him." - -"I think George will be able to explain why he acted in that way," she -whispered. "In a few minutes you will meet George under the chestnut -tree where he proposed to you. It's an idea of his that he should -explain himself there and there renew the engagement. We both arranged -to come here to-night and were to drive over. But at the last moment -George took to his boat and is now rowing down the river to meet you -under the trysting-tree. I drove over." - -"Oh!" Lesbia sat up, smiles breaking through her tears. This was a -gleam of sunshine indeed. "George is coming back." - -"He will hold you in his arms very shortly," said Mrs. Walker, her -hard face becoming strangely tender. "You poor dear child, how cruelly -you have been treated. But the worst is over: you shall marry my -George and be happy." - -"Indeed," said Hale in an acrid, thin voice. "I am not to be consulted -then?" - -Mrs. Walker placed Lesbia tenderly back on the sofa and arranged the -cushion. Then she turned, hard and harsh once more to the delinquent. -"You are not to be consulted about Lesbia," she said calmly, "as you -are unfit to have anything to do with her. But I have come to consult -you about the amethyst cross." - -"I know nothing about it," said Hale, starting and biting his nether -lip. - -"That's a lie," said Mrs. Walker fiercely. "Lady Charvington found the -cross in her husband's library, where he had left it, and thinking -that he had bought it for her, placed it in her jewel-case. As you -stole the case you must have the cross. Give it to me at once. I want -it." - -"I know nothing about it," said Hale doggedly and raising his heavy -eyes, "you are wrong--the cross was not with the jewels. I shall send -them back to Lord Charvington to-morrow, as only by my restoring them -will he agree not to prosecute. Charvington will show you the case, -and you will see that there is no cross amongst them." - -"I quite believe that," said Mrs. Walker, scornfully, "because you -intend to keep it back. What use it is to you I can't say, as in no -way can you obtain my sister's money." - -Hale scowled and, stretching out his legs, slipped his hands into his -pockets. He was perfectly dressed as usual in a cool tweed suit, and -looked in the half light a very handsome and presentable man. No one -would have taken him for a sordid thief. "I have not the cross," was -all he could say, "it was not with the jewels. I don't know where it -is." - -"Lord Charvington----" - -"If he had it in his library he must have robbed your cottage to get -it, and also must have assaulted your son. I wonder you can stand -that," said Hale with a sneer, "especially since you have a score -against the man as it is. But then you are so forgiving." - -"You will not find me so," said Mrs. Walker caustically. "As to -Charvington, I believe he was more sinned against than sinning. I -shall speak of that when we meet. As it is, my feelings towards him -have relented so far as to permit my son to see him to-morrow." - -"What!" asked Lesbia, who had sat quietly during this passage of arms, -"is George going over to The Court?" - -"Yes. Lord Charvington sent him a message asking him to call. What he -wishes to see him about I cannot guess." - -"I know: I know," cried the girl joyfully. "I told him about George -and how George had lost his situation through a false accusation. Lord -Charvington said that he would see George and get him something to do, -so that we might marry." - -"Oh that's it, is it?" said Mrs. Walker, smiling and smoothing the -girl's hair. - -"Will you let your son accept favours from Charvington?" asked Hale -sneeringly, "from the man who----" - -"That is quite enough," said Mrs. Walker, imperiously. "I will have an -explanation with Lord Charvington. I believe from the bottom of my -heart that you were the cause of all the trouble between us. But it -strikes me," Mrs. Walker gathered her mantle round her and sat with -folded arms like a grim and pitiless Fate, "that you are nearing the -end, Mr. Walter Hale. Destiny has been kind to you so far: she will be -kind no longer. I see," Mrs. Walker stared at Hale's twitching face; -"I see imprisonment: I see death: I see----" - -"Oh damn your Witch of Endor rubbish," shouted Hale, jumping to his -feet with the perspiration beading his brow, for he was impressed by -the absolute conviction with which she spoke. "You talk nonsense, -infernal nonsense. And see here, you shall not interfere between my -daughter and----" - -"I will do as I please and so shall Lesbia," said Mrs. Walker, -interrupting the vehement speech. "You forget that you are only at -large because of Lord Charvington's refusal to prosecute. If you -meddle with this marriage as you have done, he will lay you by the -heels. Yes, you and your gang." - -"My gang?" Hale swallowed something and laughed uneasily, "my gang?" - -"You and Tait and Maud Ellis and Sargent and that miserable -opium-smoking brother of his. You are all rogues and thieves and----" - -"You can prove nothing of all this," interrupted Hale, now quite -livid. - -"George can," said Mrs. Walker nodding significantly. "He has seen the -man Canning, whom you call The Shadow, although his real name is -Arthur Sargent." - -"Oh!" Lesbia rose quickly, "Has Mr. Canning seen George?" - -"Yes, and he has told much which your precious father would like to be -hidden," said Mrs. Walker quietly. - -Hale laughed and wiped his brow. "All the same," he said, wetting his -dry lips, "I am Lesbia's father after all. If you disgrace me, you -disgrace her, so I am quite safe." - -"That is right, hide behind a woman's petticoats," said Mrs. Walker -bitterly, "it was always your custom. Now you come with me," she rose. -"I have something to say to you and it must be said out of doors. -Lesbia, go into the garden and see George." - -"I'll come," said Hale promptly enough, "I am not afraid of arrest; I -know too much. After you, madam," and he held the door open mockingly. - - - - -CHAPTER XX -JOURNEYS END IN LOVERS MEETING - - -Ordinarily speaking Lesbia would have anxiously awaited the conclusion -of Mrs. Walker's out-of-door interview with her father. But when she -saw them stroll away in the moonlight, she suddenly remembered that -George was waiting in the garden to explain. Probably the interview -asked by Mrs. Walker had merely been an excuse to get Hale out of the -way so that he might not interrupt the lovers' meeting, as he -assuredly would do if left to his own marplot devices. Lesbia, -therefore, saw that it was foolish to waste the golden hour, when it -had been so propitiously brought about. Closing the front door, she -ran rapidly along the passage into the garden and sped lightly down -the grass-grown path. In another minute she was under the tree and in -George's arms. - -The night was lovely with moonlight and radiant with stars. In the -neglected garden roses red and white and yellow breathed fragrance -into the still, warm air of summer. There was not a breath of -wind and the ripples on the broad river were only formed by the -smoothly-flowing current. It murmured softly between the green banks -and was an accompaniment to the occasional song of the nightingales, -which spoke one to the other in the garden and across the river. At -the dawn of love, the blackbird had fluted his song of joy, when the -sky was blue and the sunshine was glorious. Now the sleeping world was -bathed mysteriously in silver under a starry dome, and the nightingale -sang a diviner song. Through much sorrow had they come to a better -understanding of love, and the liquid notes of the immortal bird alone -could interpret the nobler feelings which trouble had begotten. In -George's arms lay Lesbia, safe at last in the haven of love, and the -night sent upon them a benediction in the song of the bird. - -"But you have been very, very cruel," said Lesbia softly. Woman-like -she was the first to find her tongue. - -"I might say the same of you, dear," whispered George, sitting down -and gathering her closer in his arms, "but neither of us was cruel. -Circumstances are to blame." - -Lesbia, knowing that there was no period to the golden hour now that -her father was out of the way, settled herself comfortably for a long -talk. She had much to tell and much to ask, and before the rapture of -love's silence could be renewed there was much to explain. "I know -that I behaved very badly," she whispered penitently, "but I could not -help it. Unless I had broken our engagement, my father told me that -Maud Ellis would denounce you as a thief." - -"I understand, dearest; but you did not believe that I was guilty?" - -"No," Lesbia pressed her cheek against his, "of course I didn't: but -if I had not been cruel I should not have been kind. I could not risk -Maud's accusing you publicly. But perhaps," added the girl, hopefully, -"she would not have done so, and I was weak to be so cajoled by her -and by my father." - -"I think you acted wisely," said George, after a pause. "Maud led me -into a trap and certainly would not have let me out again until I -agreed to marry her, or at least until you gave me up. You did so and -she was content for the time being. She could part us, my sweet, but -she could not make me false to you." - -"I knew it, in spite of your cruel letter." - -"It was as cruel as yours, Lesbia, so we can cry quits on that score. -I know that you learned the truth through Canning. He explained to me, -and spoke very gratefully of your kindness to him in his illness." - -"How did you meet him, George?" - -"He met me. That is, he wrote to me at Medmenham asking me to see him -in the City as he had something important to tell me. We met in a -Mecca." - -"A Mecca?" - -"One of those underground coffee-rooms in London City, dear. There -Canning, or rather Sargent as he really is, explained." - -"He told you who he was?" - -"Yes! And he told me also that Tait was connected with a gang of -thieves, two members of which had robbed Tait's strong-room with his -connivance. Tait thus got the insurance money in addition to the -jewels which he sold on the Continent. He made about forty thousand -pounds over the deal and, after paying his accomplices, had enough -left to avert a financial crisis, which was the reason for the -robbery." - -"Did you know then that my father was a thief?" asked Lesbia, -shuddering. - -"Of course not." - -"I thought you did know, and for that reason had thrown me over." - -"Lesbia," George said vehemently, and pressed her so strongly to his -breast that she almost cried out with the delicious pain; "how can you -think so meanly of me? Were you the daughter of a murderer I should -marry you. It is you whom I love, my dearest, and not all the fathers -and crimes in the world will ever separate us." - -"Yet something parted us for a time." - -"Your letter." - -"That at first," acknowledged Lesbia, sighing at the memory of what -she had been forced to write, "then yours. Oh, George, when I made it -plain that Maud--the horrid girl--could do nothing, why didn't you -come back to me?" - -"Because Maud was too clever. Finding out that she could not accuse -me, since Canning could prove my innocence, Maud played a bold game -and told me that your father had robbed Tait's strong-room. She swore -that if I did not write to you, as you had written to me, she would -denounce Mr. Hale and have him put in prison. Lesbia," George suddenly -slipped from the seat and knelt at the girl's feet holding her hands -tightly, "what could I do in the circumstances but write as Maud -dictated? I did not dare to let her bring this shame on you." - -"But you could have explained your reason?" - -"No, dear, no. Maud was too smart for that. She insisted that I should -give no explanation, hoping that out of pique you would throw me over -and marry Sargent as your father desired. He was in the plot also. I -had to let things stand, as I was helpless; but I trusted that your -heart would guess the truth. I was always true to you; I have always -been. But you no doubt thought me false from that letter, as I thought -you heartless from the way in which you wrote. Now I can see, you can -see, that neither one of us is to blame. We were the sport of -circumstances." - -Lesbia bent and kissed his yellow hair. "I understand now," she said -softly, "but, oh George, how could Maud Ellis or my father think that -I would marry Captain Sargent, a mere apology for a man, and hardly -that even?" - -"They hoped to work on your feelings; to wear you out, my dear. But -had you become engaged to that dandy scoundrel I should have stopped -any possible marriage by denouncing Sargent as a member of Tait's -gang." - -"Is he, George?" asked Lesbia quickly, and she remembered what Mrs. -Walker had said in the drawing-room. - -"Yes! Canning--his brother, you know--did not tell me everything, but -he revealed a great deal. Sargent is in society and poses as a man of -good family living on his fortune. He is well-born, but he has no -money save what he obtains by theft." - -Lesbia shuddered, "How horrible; how sordid. And my father?" her voice -sank. - -"He is in the swim also, so are Maud Ellis and Tait. Indeed, I believe -that Tait is the head of the whole infernal business. But that I knew -your father was in with the lot and that I wished to spare you, I -would have gone to the police at once." - -"Oh!" Lesbia's tears dropped on her lover's hand, "how dreadful it all -is." - -George knelt before her and drew her head down on his shoulder. -"There, there, dear!" he said, gently drying her eyes, "don't worry; -we'll be married soon, and then you will be taken away from this -terrible life." - -"Tim also," murmured Lesbia tearfully, "I can't leave Tim behind." - -"Of course he'll come too," said George cheerily, "I don't believe -that he knew anything of the rascality that was going on." - -"I think he did," said Lesbia doubtfully, "not that he is wicked -himself. But he knew and, I believe, held his dear tongue for my -sake." - -"Tim would do anything for you, darling, in the same way as Canning -would." - -"Poor Mr. Canning--I mean Mr. Sargent." - -"No, don't call him by his real name; he wishes to be known simply as -Canning--The Shadow. He belongs to the gang and so does that Mrs. -Petty who was set to watch you." - -"A dreadful woman," said Lesbia, nestling, "how I disliked her. But I -am sorry that Mr. Canning is wicked, George. He has been so kind." - -"Kindness begets kindness," said Walker sententiously, "and I don't -think Canning is so very wicked. He has been unlucky all his life and -drifted from bad to worse until he took to smoking opium. That -finished him, and he was on the streets when his brother--who always -kept his head, in spite of his silly looks--took him up, and made him -his servant. Canning does a lot of the dirty work of the gang, and did -not denounce them as he would only be thrown again on the world. Also -the gang would certainly do him harm if the fact of his betraying them -became known." - -"And it is known, George. I am sure of it; because Mr. Canning told me -to mention his name to Maud Ellis. If she is a member of the gang, she -must have told the rest about the betrayal." - -"I daresay that is why Canning went into hiding," said George -thoughtfully; "however, all we can do is to leave him to deal with the -matter. For your sake I can say nothing since your father----" - -"George," Lesbia sat up and placed her hands on his shoulders, as he -knelt at her feet, "your mother told me that you were going to see -Lord Charvington to-morrow." - -Walker nodded. "It is true, though I don't know what he wishes to see -me about. I don't know him; I never met him." - -"I have met him, and I know him," said Lesbia eagerly, "and he is the -kindest and best man in the world. He wants to help us, George, and to -get you something to do so that we may marry. Now you must ask him to -advance you money to go to Australia or Canada, and we can marry -before we go. Then we can start a new life." - -"I suggested something of that sort to my mother, but she was averse -from leaving England. Still, she may change her mind." - -"She must, and she can come also," said Lesbia vehemently. "Oh, -George, don't you see that I cannot remain in England? Even if my -father escapes this time, as he will, because Lord Charvington is so -kind, he is sure to be found out some day. Then think of the disgrace. -I should always be unhappy thinking of what might happen. No, George, -if you love me, let us marry and place the ocean between this -miserable old life and the happy new one which we are sure to have -together. Say yes, dear George, say yes." - -"I do, I do. I think your idea is excellent, and you must persuade my -mother to act in this way. To-morrow I shall suggest our plan to Lord -Charvington. I daresay he will give us enough to go away with and then -I shall soon earn enough to pay him back. Yes, dear," George rose, -looking tall and stalwart in the moonlight, "we shall begin a new life -together and leave all this wickedness behind us." - -Lesbia rose also and clung to her tall lover like an ivy to an oak. "I -believe that everything will come right at last," she declared -joyfully, "as Tim says it will. Only he added that the cross began it -and the cross must end it, whatever that may mean." - -George shook his head. "I can't explain the cross," he said -doubtfully, "it is all very mysterious. Lord Charvington had it in his -possession according to his wife. And yet I cannot think that -Charvington would commit a burglary. He," George smiled broadly, -"cannot possibly belong to the gang. However, it was stolen with the -jewels, so your father----" - -"He has not got it, George. He told your mother that he had not got -it." - -"Then either your father or Lady Charvington is telling a lie. -However, I shall learn the truth when I see him to-morrow. And now, -dear, you must go in, as it grows late." - -"No," said Lesbia, petulantly. "I have to wait here until your mother -comes to us. She went out to talk with my father. George," she added, -after a pause, "I wonder what your mother knows about my father." - -"Nothing very good, you may be certain," said Walker grimly. "She must -know him as a very clever rogue. By the way, Lesbia, do you know how -your father and Sargent escaped discovery when they robbed Tait's -strong-room." - -"Was Captain Sargent the other--thief?" said Lesbia, shivering at the -horrible sound of the word. - -"Yes. He and your father arranged with Tait. Maud knew of the -arrangement and used it to inveigle me into a trap. Her chloroform -business was all a fake, if you will forgive the slang. Tait gave the -key and the two simply opened the strong-room and cleared with the -jewels. When I pursued them they dodged into the wood round the house, -and then entered the house again by a door which they had left open. -Then, after putting away the jewels in Tait's own private room, they -came down and joined the other guests in the search. Very clever of -them, wasn't it, dear?" - -"Oh, don't, don't!" cried Lesbia, catching his hand and looking white -and wan. "It's so terrible to think that my own father should do this. -Why have I such a father?" she asked, raising her eyes in despair to -the moon. "What have I done to have such a father?" - -"Hush, hush, dear," George pressed her to him. "Think no more of him. -He is not worthy of you." - -"He was never affectionate to me," sobbed Lesbia, whose nerves were -quite unstrung, as might have been expected after what she had -undergone. "We never understood each other. I was never drawn to him. -Why, oh, why?" - -George caught the hands she was wringing, firmly in his warm, kind -clasp. - -"My dearest, listen to me," he said softly. "You have been unhappy in -the past, but you shall be happy in the future. Let your father fade -out of your life, and come with me to the land of love. It is said -that a woman shall forsake her parents and cling to her husband. So," -said George, drawing himself up, "you are mine for ever, and when we -are married it will be my delight to make you perfectly happy." - -"Ah, yes, but the shadow of the past will ever remain. After all, he -is my father. I can't do away with that," and she continued to sob. - -The young man could only press her to his distressed heart and smooth -her hair. After all, what could he say in the face of facts? Wicked -and cold and hard and cruel as the man was, Hale undoubtedly was the -girl's father, and nothing could do away with the painful fact. But -for that relationship, George would have throttled Hale, or would have -thrown him into the river; but as it was, he could do nothing. He -could not even comfort his dear love who lay sobbing in his arms. The -nightingale still sang on, the stars still twinkled like jewels and -the moon still poured floods of white light down on the sleeping -earth. But the magical glory of the scene was darkened to the lovers -because of the evil of those around them. Yet--and Lesbia learned the -lesson afterwards--out of sorrow comes joy and the way of love is the -way of the cross. Something like this came into the young man's mind. - -"Remember the motto of the amethyst cross," he whispered. "'Refuse and -lose'; we cannot understand why we are so afflicted, but we must bear -the cross if we are to win the crown. And after all, dear, you should -be sorry as I am for your father. He is reaping much grief and pain -for his sowing." - -Lesbia sighed and placed her arms round George's neck. "Yes," she said -in a weary manner, "the cross is heavy, but we must bear it. I am sure -that in the end all will come right. Tim said so and so did Lord -Charvington." - -Down the pathway came Mrs. Walker, looking tall and stately and stern -in her dark robes. Her face was set and white, and--strange in so hard -a woman--she looked as though she had been weeping. "Lesbia," she said -softly, "come back to the cottage and go to bed." - -"But my father is there," sobbed the girl, "and you promised to take -me to Medmenham." - -"Your father has left the cottage for a time at least," said Mrs. -Walker, gently disengaging the girl from her son's arms. "You will be -alone with Tim and he will look after you, until we see how things -turn out." - -"How did you induce Mr. Hale to go, mother?" asked George, looking -troubled. - -"That is not for you to know at present," she said sternly. "I had an -interview with him--a private interview," she added with emphasis, -"and he saw that it was best to leave for a time. Rest in peace, my -child," she said, kissing Lesbia's brow. "You are safe now, and can -come to no harm. Be brave as you have been, for a little time longer, -and all will end well." - -"George," said Lesbia, stretching her arms like a a weary child. - -"Dearest!" the young man kissed her and gave her into his mother's -charge. So the two women passed into the cottage, while he watched -them sadly. - -Sorrow had not yet done her work. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI -TWO INTERVIEWS - - -At the present moment, George Walker had plenty of time on his hands, -and being naturally industrious, he did not enjoy the enforced -idleness. Hitherto he had spent the bulk of his leisure hours in -looking for a situation and in thinking of Lesbia. Now he made up his -mind to act in order to bring about some sort of settlement of his -very disorderly affairs. Lesbia could no longer remain with her -father, as his character was so extremely bad. Hale had left the -cottage, but would be certain to return again, therefore George wished -to see if he could not marry Lesbia--say within a month--so as to -rescue her from the troubles by which she was environed. - -To do this he required assistance and believed that he would -receive it from Lord Charvington, who appeared to be particularly -well-disposed towards the girl. The idea of emigrating to the -Colonies--if Mrs. Walker could be persuaded to lend her approval to -the suggestion--was by no means a bad one, as then the whole unhappy -past could be set aside for ever. In another country with better -prospects, and unaffected by the sordid life compulsorily spent with -sordid people, George foresaw that he would be able to make a calm, -bright and happy future for himself and his wife. He therefore crossed -the river and walked to Maidenhead with the idea of explaining his -scheme to Charvington, and asking him to advance the necessary funds. - -But before starting a new life George wished to round off the old. He -saw very plainly that for some reason the amethyst cross had been the -cause of the late troubles. Since its loss everything had gone wrong: -and it was necessary that it should be found if things were to be put -right. Jabez, the lawyer, insisted that it should be produced before -he would part with the fifty thousand pounds trust money. If, then, -the ornament could be found and given into Jabez's hands, Mrs. Walker -would benefit. Certainly, there was a chance that her late sister had -left a child, but in the absence of proof this difficulty might be -overcome. At all events, the production of the cross appeared to be -necessary to force Jabez into dealing with the trust money and its -accumulations. - -Then again, George wished to do something for Canning. The man was a -wastrel and a ne'er-do-weel and had no one to take an interest in him: -but he had done Lesbia a service at considerable risk, and it was only -fair that he should be rewarded. Undoubtedly he belonged to the gang -of clever thieves, but he had repented sufficiently of his wickedness -to help the lovers, whom the gang--or at least three members of -it--had desired to destroy. This service should be recompensed, -especially as Canning could not remain in England without being -exposed to the vengeance of his former associates. George determined -to lay the case before Lord Charvington, and ask him to help. Failing -any aid being forthcoming in this quarter, George intended to take -Canning to Australia or Canada with him, and there start the man on a -new career. Canning was not an old man and there was ample time for -him to redeem the shortcomings of his youth. He was not inherently -wicked as were his brother and Hale, but merely weak. - -On arriving at The Court, George was at once shown into the library -wherein Lord Charvington was waiting for him. The old man arose -courteously and came forward with outstretched hand. He appeared to be -pleased that George had kept his appointment so punctually, and -expressed himself with great cordiality. "I am very glad to see you, -Mr. Walker," he said, when the two were again seated. "I knew your -father." - -"My mother also, I believe, sir," said George. - -Charvington's face changed. "I have not seen Mrs. Walker for many a -long day," he remarked in a low voice, "perhaps we may meet again, -but----" he paused to ask an abrupt and extraordinary question. "Does -your mother ever speak ill of me?" he demanded, his eyes eagerly -searching the young man's face. - -"No," answered George, much astonished. "She has scarcely mentioned -your name. Why should she speak ill of you?" - -"I thought that Hale might have--but that is neither here nor there. -It is enough for you to know, Mr. Walker, that I knew your mother and -her sister over thirty years ago. We all three knew Hale also, and he -caused trouble. He would cause trouble still if he could, but I think -this last escapade of his will keep him quiet." - -"Did you know my aunt Miss Katherine Morse?" asked George, astonished. - -"Yes," Charvington rested his head on his hand and drew figures on the -blotting-paper, "but why do you speak of her by her maiden name? She -was married, you know." - -"I don't know her married name. My mother never mentions it. Perhaps," -George hesitated, "perhaps she doesn't know it." - -"Yes, she does," answered Charvington, still drawing, "so does Hale. -Your aunt died in his house at Wimbledon remember. I understood from -Jabez that Hale had admitted as much." - -"I believe he did. You know Mr. Jabez?" - -"Yes." Charvington heaved heavy sigh. "But I have not seen him for -years. We correspond occasionally--that is all," he paused, then -dropping the pencil with which he was drawing, wheeled his chair and -looked at his guest briskly. "But we have no time to talk of these old -stories. Let us come to the point. Have you heard about Lesbia's stay -here?" - -"Yes," said George very distinctly, "Lady Charvington told both my -mother and myself about the matter." - -Lord Charvington's face grew a dull brick red. "When did you see my -wife?" - -"Yesterday: she called on my mother at Medmenham." - -"What did she say?" asked the elder man, abruptly and anxiously. - -George gave details in a blunt cool way, exaggerating nothing and -suppressing nothing. The effect on Lord Charvington was very marked. -He jumped up from his chair and paced the room, holding his head in -both his hands. - -"Good heavens: oh! good heavens," he muttered, "these women, these -women. How dare Helen speak so? What does she guess? What does she -know?" - -"About what?" asked George with keen curiosity, and his question -recalled Lord Charvington to the fact, which he seemed to have -forgotten in his agitation, that he was not alone. - -"Never mind," he said sharply, and returned to his seat more composed. -"Do you mean to say that Lady Charvington stated that she had found -the cross in this library?" - -"Yes, sir. And I thought that you might know----" - -"I know nothing," interrupted Charvington violently, and nervously -shifting various articles on his writing-table. "I know that there is -such a cross. I remember that Mr. Samuel Morse gave it to his -daughter, and remarked on its oddity. But how did it get into this -library?" - -"Did you not bring it here?" - -"No, sir, no." Charvington again rose and began to walk off his -uncontrollable agitation. "I have not seen that cross for years. The -last time I set eyes on it Miss Morse--I may as well call her Miss -Morse, since your mother has not revealed her married name--wore it -round her neck. My wife says that she found it here. I tell you, Mr. -Walker, that I do not know how it came into this room. I never saw -it." - -"How strange!" said George, believing this speech, but wondering -nevertheless. - -"But how comes it," asked Charvington wheeling, "that _you_ know about -the amethyst cross, Mr. Walker?" - -"I received it from Lesbia as a love-gift," explained George, and went -on to relate the circumstances of the assault and robbery. Charvington -walked up and down nodding, and muttering at intervals. When George -ended he came to a halt before the young man. - -"Lesbia told me much of what you tell me," he said quietly, "but of -course I was ignorant that my wife had taken the cross from this room. -She did not tell me that. I cannot understand." - -"And I," said George in his turn, "cannot understand why Lady -Charvington is so bitter against Lesbia." - -"Ah! Woman! Woman!" said Charvington, with a gesture of despair, "who -can understand the nature of Woman! Let us leave that question for the -time being, Mr. Walker. What we have to do is to get at the root of -this matter. If the cross was in my wife's jewel-case, as she asserts, -undoubtedly the burglary was committed to gain possession of it. Hale -was the thief, as you know. He has sent me back the case intact. I -received it this morning, as only on condition of its being restored, -would I consent to hush the matter up. And I hushed it up for his -daughter's sake, Mr. Walker. But," Charvington wrinkled his brow and -threw back his white mass of hair, "the amethyst cross is not amongst -the jewels." - -"Hale probably kept it back. He wants it, you know, as he has some -idea of getting this money by producing it." - -"Yes! Yes! I heard something about that," muttered Charvington, "but -of course that is impossible, unless--unless----" he paused, opening -and shutting his hands feverishly. "Damn him," he burst out with a -stamp of his foot, "I would like to throttle him as he nearly -throttled you." - -George looked up in surprise. "Throttled me?" - -"Yes," said Charvington impatiently "can't you see? It must have been -Hale who assaulted you on the towing-path to get back that cross, and -he, as an expert thief, took the ornament from your cottage." - -"On the face of it, that appears probable," said George slowly, "all -the same I don't think it was the case." - -"Why not? He wanted the amethyst cross." - -"Quite so. But if he had obtained it from my cottage so long ago, he -would have taken it to Mr. Jabez to procure the money if possible. The -mere fact, too, that he was willing I should marry Lesbia, if I found -the missing ornament, shows that Hale did not commit the assault and -robbery." - -"Then who could have done so?" - -George shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say. Probably the person who -placed it in this room." - -"If it ever was in this room," muttered Charvington, darkly. - -"Your wife declares----" - -"Oh yes--oh yes. I know what she declares. Well, these things are not -to be threshed out in five minutes. Mr. Walker," he stopped short -before George, "do you wish to marry Lesbia?" - -"With all my heart and soul. We have come together again and last -night we renewed our love-vows." - -"They should never have been broken," said Charvington impatiently. - -"They never were, save by circumstances," said George solemnly, "our -hearts were always true," and he related the plotting of Maud and -Walter Hale. - -"Devils! Devils!" muttered Charvington, with another stamp, "and it's -all my fault--all my fault." - -"What!" George scarcely knew if he had heard aright. - -"All my fault I say." Charvington clutched his head with an expression -of pain. "You do not know, you can't guess--you--you--never mind. I'll -put an end to all this. You shall marry Lesbia and make her happy. I -shall settle Hale once and for all. Come, what is your idea?" - -"My idea," said George deliberately, "was, when I entered this room, -to ask you to give me enough, as a loan, to marry Lesbia, so that I -could take her to Australia or Canada and begin a new life. But now I -have changed my mind, as I can guess that in some way you can arrange -matters without my having to adopt such an extreme course." - -"Yes," said Charvington quietly; "I believe that I can arrange matters -and in a very surprising way. They should have been arranged long ago, -only for the fact that I had not the courage. It is very hard to do -right sometimes. But the time has come. Mr. Walker, in three days -certain people must be brought together into this room." - -"What people, sir?" - -"Walter Hale and Lesbia; yourself and your mother; Mr. Jabez and -my wife. When we are all assembled I shall be able to straighten -things, crooked as they are at present. I ask you to see that these -people--saving my wife, who will be invited by me to be present--are -here on the third day from now at three o'clock in the afternoon." - -"And then?" - -"Then you shall marry Lesbia and be happy ever afterwards. Now go." - -George went without another word, wondering very much at the turn -which events had taken. He had hoped that Charvington would arrange -his destiny and that of Lesbia, but the old nobleman seemed able and -ready to arrange the destiny of many other people. George could not -entirely understand the meaning of Charvington's behaviour, and after -a brief reflection did not attempt to. He decided to write a note -telling Hale and Lesbia to be at The Court at the appointed time, and -also to go personally to London to see Mr. Jabez and arrange for his -presence. Having thus made up his mind what to do, George strode -towards home whistling with a load off his mind. In one way or another -things would surely be put right. - -Then came a surprise. While passing through Nightingale Thicket the -young man saw Canning, looking more shadowy than ever, flitting down -the road to meet him. But as the man drew nearer George saw that his -usually pale face was flushed, that he was dressed spick and span as a -gentleman, and that there was a general look of opulence about him. He -glided up to Walker swiftly--for he appeared too unsubstantial to do -anything save glide--and broke into a voluble explanation. - -"Walker," he cried, and in loud tones which contrasted markedly with -his usual whispering speech, "I came down this morning especially to -see you. They told me you had gone to Charvington's place, so I -crossed the river and walked in this direction on the chance of -meeting you." - -"What's your hurry?" asked George, surprised by this change of clothes -and looks and manner. - -"I am leaving England, and have come to say good-bye. Let us sit down -on the grass by the roadside, no one will come along. After I have -explained, I shall push on to Maidenhead and take the train to London. -From London I go to Italy. Yes, an old aunt of mine has remembered me -in her will at the eleventh hour, and I have inherited two hundred a -year, an annuity, the principal of which I cannot touch." - -"Luckily for you," said George, taking out his pipe; "you would waste -it." - -"I daresay, I was always a wrong 'un. However, I go to Italy because -there I can live like a fighting-cock on an income which means penury -in England. I go also because Tait and Hale and the rest of them are -making things too hot for me. But before departing I wanted to see you -to confess." - -George lighted his pipe and looked sideways in surprise. "Confess -what?" - -"That I assaulted you," said Canning, nervously. - -"You," George glanced in amazement at the frail figure. - -"Yes. Of course I took you by surprise, or you could have knocked me -into a cocked-hat. You can punch me now, Walker." - -"I don't want to punch you as you put it," said George bluntly. "Of -course you acted like a skunk in sneaking behind me and knocking me on -the head, to say nothing of tying me up; all the same----" - -"I tied you up," said Canning, who had lain down and was smoking a -cigarette, "because I did not wish you to recover and get back to your -cottage at Medmenham until I had secured the cross." - -George turned indignantly. "Then you were the thief?" he declared. - -"Yes," admitted Canning, coughing. "Kick me. I'll take it lying down." - -"No," said George, after a pause; "you have done me a service through -Lesbia, by preventing the success of Maud Ellis's plot. The evil you -have done is counterbalanced by the good. But how did you get me into -Rose Cottage?" - -Canning sat up and looked puzzled. "I didn't do that," he said -earnestly. "I left you trussed on the towing-path like a fowl, and how -the deuce you got into the cottage I know no more than you do. Have -you never found out?" - -"No," said George promptly, "but I am beginning to find out many -things, and it is just possible that I may solve that riddle also. By -the way, why did you sneak the amethyst cross?" - -"My brother wanted it." - -"Sargent?" - -"Yes. Hale came to Cookham on the evening when you proposed to Miss -Lesbia, and told Alfred that she had given you the cross. Alfred -insisted that I should rob you, and primed me with champagne to do -what he wanted. I started for the cottage with a sandbag and a rope to -stun you and bind you, hoping to take you by surprise. I saw you -coming along the towing-path in the twilight and then----" - -"Yes," George cut him short, "I know the rest. You crept up behind me -and stunned me and bound me, and then sneaked back to rob the cottage. -You are a pretty bad lot, I must say." - -"I am," said Canning languidly, "but now that I have enough to keep -the wolf from the door I'll reform. Besides, you can kick me as I -said." - -"I don't want to, you poor devil, since you have confessed and have -done me a service. Why did you?" - -"Because Miss Hale was the only human being who was ever kind to me," -said Canning, throwing away his cigarette. "Oh, Walker, you don't know -the terrible life I have had. I never was wicked, really I wasn't: -only weak, only easily led. I hated myself all the time I was working -for Alfred and those accursed wretches he associated with. I hated all -mankind because I was treated so badly: but Miss Hale changed my -nature by her kindness, and I did what I could to repair my wrong -towards her and towards you. Because she loved you I have confessed -because I want her to know the truth. Then I pass out of her life and -yours for ever. Take this address in London," Canning handed him a -pencilled card, "it will find me for the next week. After that I go to -Italy. Tell Miss Hale everything I have told you, and then ask her to -write and say that she forgives me. I don't want her to think badly of -me." - -George nodded and slipped the card into his pocket, feeling very sorry -for the miserable man. "Only one question I should like to ask," he -said, rising from the grass; "why did your brother want this cross?" - -"Lady Charvington--as I found out from overhearing a conversation -between them--asked him to get it." - -George thought of the lie told by the lady as to the cross having been -found by her in the library. "And why did she want it?" - -"I can't say," replied Canning, moving away; "ask her. Good-bye. And -Walker, my dear fellow," he added, "one last word. Maud Ellis and Hale -are plotting to get that money which should come to your mother. -Good-bye," and he disappeared down the road--withdrawing swiftly like -a receding mist. That was the last George saw of Arthur Sargent, -_alias_ Canning, _alias_ The Shadow. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII -THE PLOT - - -But that Canning fairly ran away, George would have stopped him to ask -further questions. He had told much which was new and strange and -explained a great deal: but his last remark hinted at further -difficulties. - -Apparently, Hale had not yet given up all idea of procuring the money, -although how he hoped to do so in the absence of the child, George -could not understand. Of course, Walker felt very certain that Hale -had kept back the amethyst cross when sending the jewels to Lord -Charvington, but its production by Hale would have no effect on Mr. -Jabez. The lawyer wanted the cross to be produced by the child of -Katherine Morse--whatever her married name might be and, according to -Hale himself, the dying woman had no child. Mrs. Walker, indeed, had -stated that her sister had written about a sick child, but this had -probably died. If not, surely during all these twenty years the child -would have come forward to recover its inheritance. - -George was naturally puzzled with this new development, and decided -that to learn the truth it would be best to go to the fountain head. -That is, if Hale intended to use the cross to procure the money he -would have to produce it to Mr. Jabez in his office in Lincoln's Inn -Fields. It was thus best to go at once to Mr. Jabez and inform him of -what Canning had said about this new plot. What Maud Ellis had to do -with the matter it was impossible to say; George could no more -understand her connection with the matter than he could understand why -Lady Charvington had employed Captain Sargent to get her the cross. -What possible interest could she have in the amethyst cross? And why -had she told a deliberate lie about its being in the library? - -George was quite bewildered with the complicated state of affairs. And -Jabez, as he believed, alone could solve the mystery. - -George duly gave his mother Lord Charvington's message. She received -it in silence, but with a change of colour, which did not escape his -notice. - -"Mother," he asked abruptly, "what do you know about Lord -Charvington?" - -"He was not Lord Charvington when I knew him," confessed Mrs. Walker, -after a pause, "but Philip Hale. Hale, you know, is the family name -and Lesbia's father bears it as a cousin. Charvington had not come -into the title some twenty and more years ago. I knew him very well -and liked him," she sighed, "but he was always weak." - -George looked incredulous. "Weak," he echoed, "he seems to me to be a -very strong man and one who knows his own mind." - -"He has no doubt learned by experience," replied Mrs. Walker, "and -heaven only knows how badly he needed to learn. So he is going to -speak at last. He should have done so long ago." - -"About what, mother?" - -Mrs. Walker pursed up her mouth. "Never mind, George, I prefer that -Lord Charvington should tell his own story. If he does, Walter Hale -will find himself in trouble, and I shall be glad of that. I have -waited long to see him punished: soon I shall be satisfied." - -"Why do you hate Hale so, mother?" - -"I have every cause to hate him," cried Mrs. Walker vindictively, and -her eyes glittered. "Years ago I loved Walter Hale." - -"You--loved--that--man?" said her son slowly. - -"What is there strange in that?" snapped his mother, trying to keep -her restless hands still. "He was handsome and clever and rich. I -loved him and I thought that he loved me. I gave him my heart and -found out only too late that he was playing with me. He was always -cruel and wicked and hard, selfish to the core and thinking only of -himself. We were engaged," added Mrs. Walker, drooping her head, and -in a lower tone, "and he confessed then that he had very little money. -He believed that I was an heiress, and so I was to the extent of fifty -thousand pounds. My father did not like him and declared that if I -married Walter he would cut me off with a shilling. I did not care, -for I loved the man for himself: but he loved me for my money, and -when he learned my father's decision he threw me over, and went after -some other woman who was rich." - -"Lesbia's mother?" - -"I suppose so," said Mrs. Walker, pretending indifference; "but he -vanished out of my life, and I heard that he was courting this -heiress, in the hope of making a good marriage for his pocket. I was -left alone, and I married your father Aylmer Walker, not because I -loved him, but because he was kind and sympathetic. Aylmer was a -spendthrift and wasted all my money; all the same he was kind-hearted -and not a scoundrel like Walter Hale. Then you were born and shortly -afterwards misfortunes came. I was only married four years when -your father broke his neck leaving me penniless. Then Kate eloped -with"--Mrs. Walker paused--"she eloped, that is all I can say. I saw -Walter Hale again and learned, and learned--oh!" he rose and wrung out -her hands, "what a villain the man is. But he shall be punished now. I -swear if Charvington will not punish him, I shall punish him myself." - -"But mother----" - -"Not a word," cried Mrs. Walker passionately, "I can't bear to discuss -the matter. When we meet at Charvington's place, the long-hidden truth -will come to light. Until then----" she stopped, closed her mouth, -shook her head, and left the room hastily. - -George wondered what could be the hidden truth she referred to, but -could come to no conclusion. He wrote a letter to Lesbia saying that -she was to come to Lord Charvington's place, and stating that he would -call to take her over. Then he smoked a pipe and retired to bed, -intending the next day to go to London and see Mr. Jabez in Lincoln's -Inn Fields. Mrs. Walker did not put in an appearance again on that -evening. Of course George, as a lover, lay awake and thought of -Lesbia. He was sorely inclined to postpone his visit to Mr. Jabez, and -go over to Marlow on the morrow, but it was necessary to execute -business before indulging in pleasure, since, when everything was -settled, he would have Lesbia beside him always as his dear wife. He -therefore restrained his longing for a sight of her face, and -gradually dropped off to sleep. - -Next morning Mrs. Walker had her breakfast in bed and did not see her -son. George left a message that he would return in the evening, and -went to Henley in his boat to catch the mid-day train. He soon arrived -in London, and without wasting time went to see Mr. Jabez. - -The old lawyer had a large and expensive office in Lincoln's Inn -Fields, and from the number of clerks was apparently much sought after -as a solicitor. He received Walker as soon as the young man sent in -his card, as it seemed that George had luckily arrived during the -slack season. "A week ago," said Mr. Jabez, in his precise way, "I -should have had to keep you waiting for some hours." - -The room in which Jabez received his client--as George was--was a -large apartment with a painted ceiling and three long windows looking -out on to the gardens of the square. Probably in Georgian days it had -held brilliant company, but now, since the tide of fashion had rolled -farther to the west, it was given over to the dry-as-dust details of -the law. Jabez looked as hatchet-faced as ever, and still wore his -large blue spectacles to aid his weak eyes. He welcomed George -politely in his dry way, and waited to hear what the young man had to -say. - -"Lord Charvington wants you to come down to The Court the day after -to-morrow at three o'clock," said George abruptly. - -"Why?" demanded Jabez quietly, and more puzzled than he chose to -admit. - -"I can only answer you by telling you all that has taken place," -answered the young man, and forthwith related what he knew. - -Nursing his chin in the hollow of his hand, Jabez crossed his lean -legs and listened quietly enough, nodding at intervals. "I thought it -would come to this," he observed, when the young man ended. - -"Come to what?" - -"An explanation." - -"Of what?" - -"Of many things which will astonish you," said Jabez drily. "Of course -I was acquainted with Lord Charvington when he was merely the -Honourable Philip Hale. Then----" Jabez suspended further confidences. -"It is best to allow Lord Charvington to speak for himself." - -"Do you know what he intends to say?" - -"Partly. And yet," mused the solicitor, looking at his neat shoes, -"there may be something interesting which I do not know. However, the -main point is that I shall arrange to be there at the stated time. The -gathering promises to be interesting. The cross," Jabez stopped, "h'm! -yes, the cross. I see now how Hale got it." - -"He stole it from Lady Charvington, who procured it from Sargent, who -employed Canning to thieve it from me," explained George. - -"So you said before, and I am not so stupid as to require a double -explanation," said Jabez crustily, "but I am wondering how Hale hopes -to get the money by means of this cross. Certainly he declares that he -has found the child, and----" - -"What!" cried George, starting to his feet in amazement. - -Jabez looked up and raised a hand. "Don't speak so loud, your voice -goes through my head," he said in his testy manner. "Yes," he searched -amongst some papers, "here is a letter from Walter Hale saying that he -will call to-morrow at noon with the child of Katherine Morse----" - -"Doesn't he mention my aunt's married name?" - -"No," answered Jabez, sucking in his cheeks, "and that is what makes -me suspicious of the affair. However, what you have told me to-day -about Lady Charvington's share in the business, and her husband's -attitude gives me an idea. Send a wire to Lord Charvington asking him -to meet you here to-morrow. Then you can both see Mr. Hale and this -child." - -"I should like to, but what use----" - -"There! There. I have no time to waste. Go and do what you are told," -said Jabez, rising with an angry gesture. "I may be wrong and I may be -right. But putting two and two together----" he stopped and walked to -the window, musingly, "yes, I believe it may be so." - -"What may be so?" questioned George, picking up his hat. - -Jabez wheeled crossly. "Oh, you are there still. Go away and send that -wire. At noon to-morrow, bring Lord Charvington here. Good-day," he -rang the bell, "get out, young Walker, you are taking up my time." - -Wondering at the behaviour of the lawyer, George departed and -forthwith sent a prepaid wire to Charvington, asking him to come to -the Lincoln's Inn Fields office. He had half a mind to go down and -explain personally, but as he could not explain very much he relied on -the wire, hoping that Charvington's curiosity would be sufficiently -aroused to make him obey the summons. Late in the afternoon an answer -came intimating that Charvington would be at Jabez's office at the -appointed time. George was greatly pleased, as he foresaw that Hale's -little plot would in some way be frustrated, Charvington apparently -knew of much to Hale's disadvantage; hence the wily old lawyer had -induced him to be present. Having come to this conclusion Walker wired -to his mother saying that he would remain in London, and employed his -evening in going to a music hall. He positively had to do so, for if -he had remained alone in his hotel brooding over riddles which he -could by no means solve, he felt that his brain would not bear the -strain. Still, in a vague way, he felt that all things were being -shaped to a happy end and that light was coming out of the darkness -which had enshrouded things for so long. - -At a quarter to twelve in the morning George met Charvington in the -semi-courtyard in front of the mansion, wherein Jabez had his office. -The elder man jumped out of the hansom, in which he had driven from -the railway station, and walked towards the young one with an elastic -step, after he had paid his fare. - -"What's all this, Walker?" he demanded abruptly. "Why did you wire for -me to come up on this day, and at this hour, and to this place?" - -"Come upstairs to Mr. Jabez and he'll explain," said George, leading -the way up the steps, "we cannot linger here. Hale may see us." - -"Hale," Charvington followed hurriedly and caught the young man's arm, -"and why is Hale coming here?" - -"He has found--so he says--my cousin." - -"Your--cousin?" - -"My aunt's child--the heir to the property which Mr. Jabez has held -for so long." - -Charvington stopped on the landing. "So Hale is going to anticipate -me," he muttered, and without waiting to be announced he opened the -door of Jabez's private room and strode in. The lawyer looked up -irritably. - -"I'm engaged. You, Lord Charvington? Well, I might have guessed as -much from your abrupt entry. You haven't changed much in your -impulsive ways." - -Lord Charvington threw down his hat and stick and gloves and flung -himself into a chair. "I have changed very much in looks," he -retorted; "however there is no time for these personalities. Walker," -he indicated the young man who had followed him closely, "tells me -that Hale intends to produce the heiress to his aunt's property." - -Jabez looked inquisitively at Charvington through his blue spectacles. -"I believe so," he said quietly and cautiously, with a glance at his -watch. "Hale will bring the girl here in a few minutes." - -"It's a girl then," sneered Charvington. - -"You mentioned the word 'heiress' yourself," remarked Jabez, with -emphasis. - -"A mere guess. And what of the cross?" - -"Hale says that the girl will produce it." - -"Humph! I don't believe that the girl will produce stolen property. -You know that the cross was stolen from my house?" - -"So I believe," said Jabez politely. - -"Yes, Walker here told me, though how it got into my library----" - -"I can tell you that now, Lord Charvington," interposed George, "as I -heard the truth from Canning the other day. Sargent employed Canning -to steal the cross in order to pass it over to your wife." - -Charvington bounded from his chair. "What did she want with it?" - -"I can't say--I don't----" - -"Hush," said Jabez, who, at the sound of wheels in the courtyard, had -gone to one of the tall windows; "here come Hale and his heiress. Go -into the next room with Walker, Lord Charvington. When I require you I -shall summon you." - -"But why do you bring me here at all?" demanded Charvington brusquely. - -Jabez looked straight at him and his long fingers played a tune on the -table. "I have an idea," he said gravely; "you may be able to tell me -if that idea is correct." - -"What is the idea?" - -"I cannot tell it to you, until I see this heiress." - -"Very good." Charvington sat down again. "Introduce her and Hale." - -"No! No!" said Jabez anxiously, "that would never do. Wait until I -hear Hale's story and then----" - -"Hale will only tell you a pack of lies," interrupted Charvington -violently. "And besides he stole the cross and----" - -Jabez put his hand against the breast of the angry speaker and pushed -him gently towards a side door. "Go in there and wait," he said -insistently. "You also, Walker." - -"No," cried Charvington, "I shan't." - -"If you don't," said the solicitor very quietly, "I shall wash my -hands of this matter. Already Hale and his heiress are waiting in the -ante-chamber, and if your voice is recognised, they will not come in." - -"Why not?" - -"Because I believe that this is another of Hale's wicked schemes. Let -me hear the whole invention he has made up, and then I can call upon -you to substantiate the story." - -"But I can't wait. I want to know who this girl is." - -"Can't you guess?" demanded Jabez, leading him deftly to the door of -the inner room where he wished him to wait. - -"I can do more than guess, I know." - -"Humph," muttered Jabez, "I thought so." - -"You thought what?" - -"Never mind. If you know rightly, you will be able to help me." - -Charvington stamped. "I believe it's all lies. I want to see this -girl." - -"Well," said Jabez resignedly. "I shall do a thing I have never done -before since you will not be quiet otherwise. In the panel of this -door there is a small knot-hole. Look in and see if----" - -Charvington rushed into the room, dragging Walker after him, and -closed the door. Shortly afterwards they heard the entrance of two -people. The old man applied an eye to the knot-hole. Then he laughed -silently and made George apply his eye. "Look at the heiress," he said -sneeringly. - -Walker looked eagerly and saw--Maud Ellis. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII -ONE PART OF THE TRUTH - - -It was indeed Maud Ellis who entered on the arm of Mr. Hale. She was -carefully dressed and, as usual, had made the best of her looks, such -as they were. But she appeared to be anxious--to be strung up to -fighting-pitch--after the manner of a woman who anticipated that she -was not going to get her own way without a battle. On her entrance, -she measured the lean lawyer with the eye of an antagonist, and then -sat down in the chair which he politely pushed forward. As to Walter -Hale, he looked much the same as he always did, cool, polished, and -composed. Of course, he was perfectly arrayed in Bond Street taste, -and his manners were as irreproachable as was his costume. If Miss -Ellis was nervous, Hale assuredly was not. To Jabez, he suggested a -bowie-knife--an odd comparison, but one which came unexpectedly into -the lawyer's unimaginative brain. - -"You know, of course, Mr. Jabez," said Hale when seated, "what I have -come to see you about." - -The solicitor, who had taken his usual chair before the table, nodded -and pointed to Hale's letter which lay on the blotting-paper before -him. "To produce the amethyst cross," said he gravely. - -"And something more important than the cross. Allow me," Hale stood up -to give his words due effect, "to present to you, Miss Katherine -Morse----" - -"Oh," interrupted Jabez drily, "I understood from you that she died in -your Wimbledon house years ago." - -"You are thinking of my mother," put in Maud boldly. "She, indeed, is -dead; but I am her child and am called after her." - -"Even to the name of Morse?" - -"Later," said Hale, with dignity, "I can give you the married name of -this young lady's mother. Meanwhile, the cross is----" - -"Is here," said Maud, and opening a little bag which was swinging on -her wrist, she extracted therefrom a red morocco case and handed it to -Jabez. - -He opened it gravely and beheld the long-lost ornament. "It was my -dear mother's," added Miss Ellis with feigned pathos, as though the -sight was too much for her tender heart. "My grandfather gave it to -her, and----" - -"And your mother gave it to you," ended Jabez, seeing with his usual -keen gaze that her eyes were dry behind the handkerchief she was -holding to them. - -"No," she replied, unexpectedly and sadly. "I never set eyes upon it -until Mr. Hale saw me a few days ago." - -"Permit me to explain," said Hale, as watchful as a cat. "As I told -you, Miss Morse----" - -"Still no married name," muttered the solicitor ironically. - -"That will be told later," remarked Hale, provokingly self-possessed. -"I have first to tell my story." - -"Go on," Jabez stretched his legs and put his hands in his pockets, -"it is sure to be interesting." - -"I hope so," rejoined Hale, making a sign to Maud that she should not -talk, "and already you know much of it." - -"Let me see. Yes, I remember. You told me at Rose Cottage, in the -presence of Mrs. Walker, that Miss Morse died at your Wimbledon house -in the arms of your wife. She gave the cross to your wife, who -afterwards gave it to the nurse, Bridget Burke. She in her turn gave -it to your daughter Lesbia, who presented it to young Walker from whom -it was stolen. Am I right?" - -"Perfectly," said Hale gravely. "So you can see how Miss Morse here, -never set eyes on it until I brought it to her." - -"And how did you become possessed of it?" - -"I shall explain that, when you have heard Miss Morse's story." - -Maud put up her veil and wiped her lips. "I am only too anxious to -tell it," she declared eagerly, "and----" - -Jabez cut her short. "I am sure you are, but before hearing it I -should like to remind Mr. Hale that he declared in my presence and in -the presence of Mrs. Walker that there was no child." - -"Quite so," said Hale promptly. "I am not bound to tell you anything I -desire to keep silent." - -"I think you will have to do so, if you wish this young lady to get -fifty thousand pounds," said Jabez coolly. - -"Of course: that is why I am here. But I refer to the interview at my -Marlow cottage. Then, I was not bound to speak. I speak now. There was -not any child with Miss Morse when she died at my Wimbledon house. But -with her last breath she told me where she had left the child--in a -poor neighbourhood and with a poor woman." - -"Who was very good to me," said Maud, with tenderness very well acted. -"Dear Mrs. Tait, shall I ever forget her kindness?" - -"Tait. Humph. So that's the name, is it?" - -"The name of my foster-mother who brought me up. For years I have been -called Maud Ellis, but only when Mr. Hale came to see me bringing the -cross did I learn my true name and parentage." - -"Why did your foster-mother call you Ellis?" asked Jabez. - -"She passed me off to the world as her sister's child," said Maud -glibly. - -"Why? I cannot see the need." - -"Nor I," said Miss Ellis, with a swift glance at Hale. "But who knows -the human heart, Mr. Jabez?" - -"No one so far as I know. But you were saying----" - -"If you will permit me to tell my story I can make everything clear." - -"I am quite certain that you can," said the lawyer, politely ironical. -"Go on." - -"Mrs. Tait kept a lodging-house in Bloomsbury. My mother lived there -after leaving her husband--my father, who treated her very badly. I am -right," she added turning to Hale, "in saying this?" - -"He behaved like a brute," said Hale emphatically, "but then he always -was a brute I am sorry to say." - -"Dear me," murmured Jabez, "proceed, please." - -"My mother left me with Mrs. Tait, as she had very little money and -went to seek out my father at Wimbledon one bitterly cold, snowy day. -He turned her from his door, and she nearly perished in the snow. -Fortunately this good man," Maud glanced pathetically at Hale, who -tried not to look too conscious, "took in the starving and chilled -woman. My mother died, and I was left to Mrs. Tait's kind care." - -"What about the cross?" asked Jabez abruptly, stifling a yawn. - -"I can explain that," interposed Hale quickly, "indeed I have already -done so. It was given to my wife and----" - -"Of course: of course, I remember now. Well," Jabez turned to Maud, -"so you remained with Mrs. Tait." - -"Until she died. Then her husband adopted me as his niece and with him -I lived, retaining my name of Maud Ellis." - -"There was a husband then?" - -"Yes," said Hale anxiously, "you may know of him, Mr. Michael Tait, the -stockbroking philanthropist." - -"Oh," drawled the solicitor quietly, "the same man who lost his jewels -the other day." - -"Yes," admitted Hale, quite ignorant of how much Jabez knew, "the -same. He was poor when Miss Morse--or Miss Ellis if you like--came to -his wife, and Mrs. Tait kept a boarding-house to help him. Then Tait -made a lucky speculation--he was a clerk in the City--and began to -grow rich. But before he could make a fortune Mrs. Tait died, and thus -never benefited." - -"No, poor dear, and she was so very kind," said Maud sweetly, -"however, when my uncle grew rich----" - -"Your uncle?" queried Jabez. - -Maud coloured to the roots of her sandy hair. "I have fallen into the -habit of calling my friend Mr. Tait my uncle. And, indeed, until the -other day I almost thought that he was my uncle until I knew the -truth. But as I was saying, Mr. Jabez, my uncle--for I still call Mr. -Tait so--placed a magnificent tombstone over her remains when he grew -rich. That is my story." - -"A very interesting one," said Jabez politely. "Then I take it that -you are the young lady entitled to fifty thousand pounds." - -"I am. I understood that when I came and presented that cross," Maud -pointed to the ornament on the table, "that the money would be given -to me." - -"You certainly said as much to me, Jabez," chimed in Hale anxiously. - -"Quite right. The cross," Jabez waved his hand, "was only a little -attempt of mine to introduce romance into the dry details of the law. -Of course it is a means of identification, but it will be necessary -for Miss Ellis to produce her certificate of birth, her baptismal -certificate and----" - -Hale bit his finger with vexation. "I anticipated that objection," he -interrupted in hard tones, "and I knew you would make it." - -"In the interest of Mrs. Walker I must make it." - -"Yes! yes. But the fact is, that only Mrs. Tait, besides the mother, -knew where the certificate of birth and that of baptism were to be -found. They are both dead, as you have heard, so----" - -"So," ended Jabez rising to stand before the fireplace, "so there will -be no chance of this young lady getting the money." - -"Don't you believe my story?" demanded Maud angrily. - -"Oh yes. One has only to look into your face, my dear madam, to -be certain that you speak as you believe. But the law is not so -tender-hearted as I am. The law requires proofs." - -"The amethyst cross----" - -"Is one proof, but others are required. Then, you see, the cross was -stolen and has not been in your possession all these years. It is not -a very strong proof of your identity." - -"I can make an affidavit," said Hale sharply, "swearing that the -mother me told where the child was to be found." - -"Quite so, and doubtless Mr. Tait--then in the Bloomsbury -lodging-house kept by his wife--can make another affidavit showing how -the mother left the child in his wife's charge." - -"Of course," assented Hale readily. "Tait will do anything I ask him." - -"And my uncle," said Maud, "for I must call him uncle, will only be -too glad to see me come into my kingdom." - -"Oh, I am certain of that," said Jabez, trimming his nails rapidly -with a little knife, "and to show your gratitude, you will doubtless -divide the money with him." - -"Oh no. My uncle is too rich to need help," said Maud virtuously. - -Jabez shut the knife and restored it to his pocket. "So he made enough -by the double deal of the jewels and the insurance fraud to tide over -the financial crisis which threatened him," he said deliberately. - -Maud turned pale and uttered an exclamation. "I don't understand." - -"Do you, Mr. Hale?" asked Jabez. - -"No," said the man coldly, "I know nothing of Tait's business." - -"Rubbish! rubbish! See here, Hale, and you, young woman, before you -came here to try your games on me, you should have made certain that I -knew nothing of your doings. As it is, from Mrs. Walker, from her son, -and from various other people, I know all that has taken place in -connection with that cross from the time Miss Lesbia Hale gave it to -her lover, and----" - -"You insult Miss Morse," interrupted Hale furiously. - -"Miss Maud Ellis you mean," sneered the lawyer, "and--no you don't," -he stretched out his long arm, and snatched the cross away, before -Hale could lay a finger on it. "That belongs to Mrs. Walker's niece." - -"I am Mrs. Walker's niece," panted Maud, standing up with a red and -furious face. Since Jabez appeared to know so much, she saw very well -that the plotting of herself and Hale had come to an untimely end. -Nevertheless, like a woman, she persisted in fighting, even when the -game had been irretrievably lost. "She will acknowledge me." - -The lawyer slipped the case containing the cross into the pocket of -his coat and faced round. "If Mrs. Walker will acknowledge you as her -niece," he declared, "I will give you the money." - -"What's the use of talking in this way?" cried Hale angrily. "You know -well enough that Mrs. Walker wants the money for herself. She will -certainly not help this poor girl to gain her rights." - -"Girl," echoed Jabez cruelly, and with his eyes on Maud's plain face, -which showed elderly lines. "I am no judge of a lady's age, but----" - -"Brute! brute," cried Miss Ellis, making for the door. "Hale, come -away, I am not going to stand here and be insulted." - -"I am coming," said Hale sullenly: then turning to the lawyer: "as to -these veiled accusations you bring against me----" - -"Oh, you want me to speak clearer. Very well, then. You, Mr. Hale, and -you, Miss Maud Ellis, belong to a gang of clever thieves. The police -have been trying to break up the gang for years: but hitherto have not -succeeded. Now they will lay hands on one and all." - -"Oh!" gasped Maud, trembling. "What nonsense you talk." - -"The police do not think so. You and Hale had better make yourselves -scarce, for one of your gang has given the rest away." - -"Canning, blast him!" shouted Hale fiercely. - -"Ah!" Jabez turned on him, "you admit then that I speak the truth." - -"I admit nothing," muttered Hale, wiping his face. - -"As you please," Jabez moved towards the door leading into the inner -room where Lord Charvington and George were concealed, "but Canning is -now in communication with the police. I learned yesterday that he knew -all. I got his address from young Walker, and have seen him. To save -his own skin he will turn king's evidence and you and Miss Ellis -there, and her dear uncle and Sargent, and a few others, including -Mrs. Petty, will be----" - -"Damn you," cried Hale, while Maud stood trembling at the outer door, -which she had not strength enough to open, "I'll kill you." - -With outstretched hand he lunged forward to grip the lawyer. Jabez on -the watch dexterously slipped aside and flung open the door. Hale -unable to restrain his impetus plunged right through the entrance into -the strong arms of George Walker. That young gentleman picked him up -like a feather and carrying him into the outer room, flung him into -Jabez's chair. Maud uttered a cry of alarm. She did not know Lord -Charvington: but she knew George, and guessed that he had overheard -the whole wicked plot. Overcome with shame she tore blindly at the -door, opened it hurriedly and fled away, pulling down her veil to hide -her shameful face. She could not meet the eye of the man, whom she had -wronged so deeply, because she loved him too well. - -None of the three men followed her, as their attention was taken up -with Hale. Over him stood George, righteously indignant. "You -confounded blackguard," cried George between his teeth, "if you were -not Lesbia's father I would murder you." - -"Set your mind at rest on that point, George," said Lord Charvington, -who was strangely white, "I am Lesbia's father." - -"You!" George recoiled, dazed and startled. "Katherine Morse was my -first wife and I am Lesbia's father." - -"Now," said George to Hale, "I can choke the wicked life out of you." - -But Charvington stopped him. "Leave him to God." - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV -ANOTHER PART OF THE TRUTH - -A day or so after the scene in the Lincoln's Inn Fields office, a -party of those interested in the circumstances connected with the -amethyst cross assembled in the library of The Court. George was -present with Lesbia by his side--Lesbia, still ignorant of her true -parentage. Mrs. Walker, looking less grim than usual, had a seat near -Mr. Jabez, who had come down to hear Lord Charvington's story and to -witness the righting of the wrong which had been done to Lesbia. But -two people who should have been on the spot were absent--Walter Hale -and Lady Charvington. - -On returning from London, where he had admitted the truth, Charvington -had interviewed his wife. What took place between them was never -known, for out of shame for the lady's behaviour Charvington said as -little as he could, when explaining fully. But his wife must have been -dissatisfied with the conversation, for she left The Court and -returned to London. In spite of what her husband said, she absolutely -refused to be present at the rehabilitation of Lesbia, and it must be -confessed that Charvington felt relieved. He knew his wife's fiery -temper and vindictive nature well, and therefore dreaded lest she -should make a scene. Besides he was manifestly in the wrong, and when -given an inch Lady Charvington immediately took an ell with all the -zest of an ungenerous woman. Mrs. Walker having been the lady's -schoolfellow had something to say on the subject: but she reserved her -remarks until she heard Charvington's story. She, for one, was not -astonished at Lady Charvington's failure to put in an appearance at -the conference. She had never credited her with a kindly heart willing -to forgive and forget. And time proved that her estimate was right. - -As to Hale, the interview in Jabez's office had more or less done away -with the necessity for his presence. - -He admitted the truth of Charvington's statement to Jabez, and after -confessing the whole of his wicked plots to gain possession of Mrs. -Walker's money--or rather the money which now belonged to Lesbia as -her mother's heiress,--he had been permitted to depart. This he did, -knowing that the police were on his track, and that unless he could -get out of the country he would be in danger of arrest. And if he were -arrested he knew well enough that he would suffer a long term of -imprisonment. Destiny, as Mrs. Walker had remarked, had been very kind -to him, but the hour had arrived when she demanded the return of all -the good fortune which she had lent. And Hale lurked in byways, -trembling for the payment of the bill which the police--as Destiny's -agents--were trying to present. He did his best to give the police no -chance of presenting it, and longed--like David--for the wings of a -dove that he might fly away and be at rest. - -But enough people were present to give Charvington an opportunity of -confessing his weakness and folly and, to be plain, cowardice, or, to -be generous, want of courage. Only George and Jabez knew what he was -about to say, as they already had heard the confession in the office. -But Mrs. Walker and Lesbia were ignorant, and although they guessed -that they had been brought there to hear how things could be righted, -they little suspected the way in which this would be accomplished. - -Lord Charvington glanced round at the attentive faces, and then -abruptly plunged into the middle of his his story. It was not an easy -one for him to tell, and only sincere repentance made him bold enough -to open his mouth. "I have to right a great wrong," he said with -considerable emotion, "a wrong done to you, Lesbia." - -"To me!" The girl looked surprised and clutched George's hand tighter. - -"Yes! Listen. For you to understand I must go back over twenty years. -You remember that time, Judith?" - -"Yes," said Mrs. Walker quietly, "but you should go back nearly thirty -years, Philip. George is now five-and-twenty and I married his father -some seven years previous to the time you speak of." - -"I begin some twenty-three years ago," said Charvington, after a -pause, "as it was then that I married your sister Katherine. Lesbia," -he turned to the girl, "you are now twenty I believe?" - -"Yes, but what have I to do with----" - -"You have everything to do with it," interrupted Charvington, "for I -am your father, Lesbia--your guilty, cowardly, cruel father." - -"What!" Mrs. Walker rose slowly with a pale face and indignant eyes, -"do you mean to say that this girl is my sister's child?" - -"Yes, and as such inherits the money." - -"I don't want it," said Lesbia, who was as pale as a wintry moon, for -she could scarcely grasp the significance of her father's statement. - -Mrs. Walker waved the objection aside. "I don't mind about the money," -she said harshly, "and if George marries Lesbia the money is well -bestowed. But to think that you, Philip, should know the truth and -conceal it. I always thought that you were more sinned against than -sinning, Philip, as Hale was your evil genius. But if you knew that -Lesbia was your daughter why did you permit her to call that wretch -father?' - -"I am about to explain," said Charvington, trying to speak quietly, -"and I remember the time, Judith, when you would not have called Hale -a wretch." - -"I remember it also," said Mrs. Walker, sitting down, "a time when I -loved the man. But you know, Philip, how he deceived me and left me -and threw me into the arms of George's father. I can neither forgive -nor forget the cruelty with which he treated me. And you allowed your -own child--my poor Kate's daughter--to call him father. How could you? -how could you?" - -"I was wrong, Judith----" - -"Wrong," she repeated strongly, "you were wicked and cruel. What -induced you to arrange matters so? Why was not Lesbia given into my -charge? I was her aunt; I had the right to look after her. But I -expect you and Mr. Jabez made up the matter between you and----" - -"Pardon me," said the lawyer politely, "but I knew nothing for ever so -long, and if I had known, I should have given the money which I held -in trust to Miss Lesbia Hale." - -"Is my name Lesbia Hale?" asked the girl, who looked pale and scared. - -"Yes," said her father, "Hale is my family name. You are Lesbia Hale, -as your half-sisters are Agatha and Lena Hale." - -"My half-sisters?" muttered Lesbia bewildered. - -"Of course. Your mother was my first wife, and you are her child; -Helen Harrowby is my second wife, the mother of Agatha and Lena." - -"Helen Harrowby," said Mrs. Walker with scorn. "Oh, I know her well, -better than you know her, Charvington, or you would never have married -her." - -"Heaven knows that I have learned to know her," said the man bitterly, -"but allow me to explain myself, and----" - -"One moment," put in Jabez, "I wish to explain on my part to Mrs. -Walker, that I knew nothing of the truth for years. It was only when -you, madam," he addressed himself directly to Mrs. Walker, "told me -of the theft of the amethyst cross, and how your son had obtained it -from Miss Hale, that I got an idea. I fancied--on account of the -cross--that Miss Hale might be your sister's child, but Hale swore, if -you remember, that there was no child." - -"Yes," said George caustically, "and then tried to pass off Maud Ellis -as the child so as to get the money." - -"That plot was doomed to fail from the first," said Jabez waving his -hand, "as by then, I knew too much. I did not like to declare my -belief that Miss Hale was the missing child, until I had further -proof. In one way and another the proofs came to hand. When Lord -Charvington appeared in my office at my request, immediately before -Hale called with Miss Ellis, I was then pretty well convinced that he -was Miss Hale's father. I was right." - -"But you knew for years that he had been my sister's husband," said -Mrs. Walker, "and knowing that, you should have asked him about the -child." - -"You knew also. Why did not _you_ ask?" - -"Because from Kate's letter to me saying that the child was -dangerously ill, I believed that it had died." - -"You told me that," said Jabez, "and I thought so also. Perhaps I have -been blind and have not done justice to my legal training. However, -the case is a very peculiar one. Let us hear what Lord Charvington has -to say, and then, if necessary, I can exonerate myself further." - -Mrs. Walker moved her chair and caught Lesbia's disengaged hand. "I am -quite ready," she said calmly, "and before Charvington speaks, I must -thank him for giving me back Kate's child." - -Lesbia was too overcome to speak coherently, but muttering something -unintelligible, she sat between mother and son, her aunt and her -cousin, allowing them to hold her hands, and feeling, poor child, that -at last she had someone to love her, and cherish her, and take care of -her. Lord Charvington cast a longing glance at the trio. He would have -liked to take Lesbia in his arms, but it was part of his punishment to -see her cling to others, while he detailed the folly that had led to -his isolation. - -"When I was young," he said in a steady voice, and speaking slowly, -"there were two people between myself and the title I hold. I was then -merely Philip Hale." - -"The Honourable Philip Hale," said Mrs. Walker promptly. - -"No," he contradicted, "no, Judith, my father was only a younger son. -I had no title whatsoever until the death of my cousins by drowning -placed me here as head of the family. And I had no expectation then of -becoming rich and titled. I was simply a briefless barrister." - -"And Walter's closest companion," muttered Mrs. Walker. - -"Yes. But Walter was not so wicked in those days as he has since -proved to be." - -"He was always wicked," snapped the woman, "he was your evil genius." - -Charvington passed his hand through his white hair. "I fear he was. -However, we can talk of that later. Walter and I were the best of -friends, and it was Walter who introduced me to Mr. Samuel Morse, a -City merchant. He had two daughters. Judith----" - -"That was me," murmured Mrs. Walker, "and the other daughter was my -sister Kate. You loved Kate, and I thought that Walter loved me." - -"Walter behaved very badly," said Charvington promptly. "He was poor -while pretending to be rich, and so, when your father, not approving -of his scampish ways, learned that you loved him, Judith, he -threatened to disinherit you." - -"Quite so, and learning that, Walter threw me over. Later, I married -George's father, who was quite as scampish, but kind-hearted and -honourable." - -"Yes!" Charvington nodded, "I always wondered why Mr. Morse permitted -that marriage as he knew that Walker was quite as wild as Hale." - -"But he knew also that Aylmer was honourable, which Walter never was. -Let that pass, I was jilted by Walter and married Aylmer. I lost my -money and my husband, and was left with George to live on nothing. -That's my story, I want to hear yours." - -"You know most of it," said Lord Charvington, now speaking rapidly as -though anxious to end a disagreeable task. "I loved Kate; she was the -only woman I ever loved, but your father, thinking me as dissipated as -Walter, refused to permit the match. Kate eloped with me, and your -father would have altered his will but that he died before he could -send for his lawyer." - -"And that was me," said Jabez, "however, the will was very fair. You, -Mrs. Walker, got your fifty thousand when you married your husband, -and he soon got rid of it. The other fifty thousand pounds belonged to -Kate, but she never appeared to get it. Why not?" he asked -Charvington. - -"Walter Hale again," said that gentleman quickly. "Kate and I were -married and went on the Continent. I was poor and we lived quietly, -hoping that some day Mr. Morse would relent. Then we heard that he had -died. Walter undertook to find out about the will, and told us that -Kate inherited nothing, that all had been left to you, Judith." - -"And you believed him," said Jabez. "Why didn't you communicate with -me?" - -"I had no reason then to doubt Walter," said Charvington stiffly. - -"Augh," groaned Mrs. Walker softly, "you were always an honourable -fool." - -"I was, in believing Walter," said Charvington, "and not until lately -have I learned how I was deceived. Walter was always plausible and -clever. Besides, I kept the fact of my marriage secret from my father -lest he should disinherit me. Walter made capital out of that also. -Then there was Helen----" - -"Helen," cried Mrs. Walker, rising, much agitated. "She always hated -me and hated Kate because Kate was pretty and you loved her. Helen and -Walter caused all the trouble." - -"I know that now; I did not know it then," said Charvington sadly. "I -was always foolish as you remarked just now. I was living in Paris -with my wife. Lesbia was a baby then. We met Helen, who pretended to -be our friend." - -"A friend such as Walter was," muttered Mrs. Walker. - -"I fear so, but let us say nothing since Helen is now my wife." - -"You let her off too easily." - -"She is now my wife," said Charvington determinedly, "so that puts an -end to all discussion. Besides, Walter was to blame, as my wife -informed me in a conversation we had when she refused to be present at -this meeting. He worked on Kate's feelings and made her believe that I -was in love with Helen. I was wrong also, for then I went about much -with Helen, while my wife was ill, so that in the end Kate grew -jealous." - -"You treated her worse than I thought," said Mrs. Walker darkly. - -Charvington threw out his hands. "I never was a hero," he said -entreatingly, "but surely I have suffered for my weakness--the -weakness of a pleasure-loving man. I was wrong; I here admit publicly -that I was wrong. Surely you will believe that my repentance is -sincere." - -Mrs. Walker looked at his drawn face and admitted that it was. After -all, few men would have had the courage to stand up and speak as -Charvington was now speaking--to lay bare the secrets of their -weakness and strive, even at the eleventh hour, to make amends. -Charvington had sinned through weakness; he confessed through strength -gained from the lessons of a hard life, hard in spite of his outward -show of prosperity. "I forgive you," said Mrs. Walker in softer tones, -"go on." - -"I come to the cruellest part," said Charvington in a thick voice. -"Kate was so jealous that she fled with the child. I searched for her -but could not find her. It was in winter. Then Walter sent for me. I -came to England and he told me that Kate had come to him weak and ill -and almost starving. She had sold what jewels she possessed to feed -herself and her child, and only retained the amethyst cross which her -father had given her. Then she went to Walter at Wimbledon, and there -died in the arms of Bridget Burke." - -"Was Mr. Hale married then?" asked George anxiously. - -"No. He never married in his life. But when I arrived my wife was -buried and had left the child to the care of Bridget, and also had -given her the cross saying it was to be handed to Lesbia when she grew -up." - -"Bridget gave it to me on her death-bed," sighed Lesbia, who wept -bitterly. - -"Yes, I learned that," said Charvington with a heavy sigh. "But to go -back to my story. I repented deeply of the way in which I had behaved. -I meant no harm, and would have explained to my wife had she not left -me secretly. I never had an opportunity of explaining. Kate simply -disappeared and died. Owing to my conduct I did not dare to go near -you, Judith, or I might have placed the child in your care. As it was -Hale proposed that Lesbia should be nursed by Bridget and that I -should allow him money. I agreed to this, as at the time it seemed the -best way out of the difficulty. Then my cousins were lost at sea in -their yacht. I came in for a large income and for the title. My -relatives urged me to marry again. Chance threw me once more into -Helen's company----" - -"Chance!" snorted Mrs. Walker. "Chance! I know the minx." - -Charvington passed over this remark. "I married Helen and took up the -station I now hold. I arranged to allow Walter an annuity if he looked -after Lesbia. He did so, and gradually she began to look on him as her -father." - -"And you permitted that--you permitted that," cried Mrs. Walker -furiously. - -"Yes," said Charvington with an effort. "Weakness again. My wife knew -the truth and I did not dare to bring my child into the house. I -provided that Lesbia should have a good education, and saw that she -had everything she desired. Walter was kind to her in his own way. -Gradually I came to accept the situation. Then the cross passed into -Walker's possession, and--" he threw out his hand--"you know the rest." - -George nodded. "But how did Lady Charvington learn the truth, and why -did she want the cross?" - -Charvington sighed again and hung his head. "I do not wish to speak -ill of my wife," he said in a low voice; "but in justice to Lesbia I -must be frank. Hale learned about the money waiting for Lesbia, and -knew that it could be obtained if the cross was shown to you, Jabez, -But Hale could not find the cross." - -"I know why," said Lesbia quickly, "Bridget kept it secretly -beside her, as my mother thought that Mr. Hale."--she did not say -father--"might take it away. My mother told Bridget that the cross -would prove that I was her child should any money be waiting for her. -Bridget gave the cross to me and made me promise to say nothing to Mr. -Hale, but to give it to the man I loved. While I was giving it to -George, Mr. Hale came and then----" - -"Then," said Lord Charvington, "he went to Cookham and told Sargent -that you, Walker, had the cross. My wife had already learned through -Sargent, who obtained the information from Hale, that if Lesbia -produced the cross she would inherit a fortune. Then--she--" he -hesitated. - -Mrs. Walker took up the explanation. "I can see it all," she said -scornfully, "Helen hated Kate so that she was determined that Lesbia -should not get the money and hired Sargent to get the cross. He did -through his brother. We know all about that. But did Helen know that -Sargent was a thief?" - -"No," said Charvington sharply. "Helen is not altogether bad. She did -not know of that, nor did she ever suspect that Walter was such a -rascal. I was amazed myself when I heard the truth. I only learned it -during the last few weeks. But you can see how the cross came into my -wife's possession." - -"Yes," said George, "but why did she tell the lie about its being in -the library?" - -"To conceal the fact of how she came to get it, as she knew perfectly -well that Sargent had obtained it in some underhand way. She guessed -that if she swore I had given her the cross, that no inquiry would be -made and, of course," he added apologetically, "as my wife, I should -have been obliged to support her." - -"Philip," cried Mrs. Walker, rising, "you are as weak as ever." - -"No," denied the man, "I am strong. Things being as they are, I must -make the best of them. Helen is my wife, and to save the honour of my -name all that I have told you must be kept silent." - -Mrs. Walker shrugged her stately shoulders. "I shall say nothing," she -observed, "neither will anyone else. As to Walter, he can be left to -the punishment of the law. But I am certain," she added, with -emphasis, "that as he knows everything, he will speak if only out of -revenge." - -Charvington winced. "As I have sown, so must I reap," he murmured. -"Let us hope that out of shame Walter will be silent and not add to my -burden, which is already sufficiently heavy. If I have sinned through -weakness, I have repented and I have been punished." - -Mrs. Walker offered her hand. "You shall not be punished further by -me," she said generously, "you were always good and kind, Philip, but -very weak. I held my tongue about you, and I shall hold it still. As -to Walter----" - -"Oh," said Jabez, rising, "I daresay I shall find some means to square -him. In the interests of all parties, it will be best to give him a -sum of money and assist him to escape. Once abroad he will say -nothing, besides which he will not dare to venture back to England. -You forget, Lord Charvington, that although he has a hold on you by -knowing so much, you have a hold on him by what you know. Now if -I----" - -"Do what you think best," said Charvington, whose hungry, bloodshot -eyes were fixed on Lesbia, "I give you full permission. But my -child--" he held out his arms to Lesbia, who rose pale and -trembling--"will you not forgive me?" said the man in a thick voice. -"I have done you wrong, but I have suffered and I will make amends and -I--I----" - -Lesbia ran forward and threw her arms round his neck. "I forgive you," -she whispered, "and I will learn to love you, and--and--father!" - -Her voice rose in a scream. Unable to bear the joy of this -forgiveness, a long-threatened attack of apoplexy seized on the man's -weakened frame. He tried to speak, choked, grew purple in the face and -fell full length on the floor from the arms of the daughter he had not -acknowledged for so many years. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV -REVENGE - -A week later and George was seated beside Lesbia on the well-known -bench under the famous chestnut tree. Lord Charvington had recovered -from his apoplectic fit, and was now progressing favourably. For two -or three days Lesbia and Mrs. Walker had nursed him; but when Lady -Charvington heard of her husband's illness she came down to The Court -at once. A furious passage of arms took place between her and Mrs. -Walker, which resulted in the defeat of the latter lady. Her enemy, -being Charvington's wife and mistress of the house, had the power to -send away those whom she regarded as interlopers, and she exercised -this power forthwith. Lesbia departed under the wing of Mrs. Walker, -and Charvington was too ill to prevent his wife from behaving in this -despotic manner. - -Mrs. Walker desired the girl to come to Medmenham, there to remain -until such time as she could be married. But Lesbia, thinking of Tim, -insisted on returning to Rose Cottage. Jabez allowed her sufficient -money to live on, pending his handing over to her the invested fifty -thousand pounds, so there was no difficulty on the score of money. -Then it was unlikely that Hale would come back to see Lesbia, now that -she knew the truth; and under the charge of the devoted Tim, she could -remain quietly until George found occasion to make her his wife. - -But there was another reason why Hale could not come. He was in -hiding, for the information given to the police by Canning--forced, in -order to save himself, to turn king's evidence--had resulted in the -arrest of Tait and Mrs. Petty and several members of the infamous -gang, whose names Canning had supplied. But Hale had managed to -escape, likewise Captain Sargent, who had been warned by Maud. That -clever young lady, having seen at Jabez's office that the game was up, -did what she could to put the rest of the gang on the alert and then -vanished like a bubble. Things were in this position when George sat -hand in hand with Lesbia under the chestnut tree, discussing the -future. - -"I saw Lord Charvington yesterday," explained the young man, "and he -is now rapidly getting better. He proposes that we shall get married -next month and accompany him to the south of France. He has a villa -there which he will place at our disposal." - -"And Lady Charvington?" asked Lesbia timidly. - -"Your stepmother," said Walker, smiling. - -"No," said Lesbia shuddering, "don't call her that." - -"Why not? She has behaved exactly as a stepmother does--in fiction." - -Lesbia shook her head. "I think of her merely as Lady Charvington--a -stranger, and when we are married I shall never set eyes on her -again." - -"I don't think she wants to see you," said George drily. "She is still -vindictive. It seems that she always loved your father and can never -forgive your dead mother for having married him. Thus she visits her -anger upon you, my dear. However, what she does or what she says -matters little. And for her own sake she will say as little as -possible." - -"She is a strange woman," sighed Lesbia, "and very unhappy." - -"Don't make any mistake, my dear. Lady Charvington is too hard-hearted -to be unhappy. So long as she has her rank and her title and her -crowds of adorers, she cares for no one. Whatever love she may have -had for your father she has long since given entirely to herself." - -"Do Agatha and Lena know that I am their half-sister?" - -"No. I was talking about that yesterday to Lord Charvington. As you -know he has not been able to do anything because of his illness, but -he is only waiting to get on his feet again to put matters straight." - -"In what way?" asked the girl anxiously. - -"Well, you are his daughter, my dear, and he desires to acknowledge -you as such in the most public manner." - -"No," said Lesbia firmly and sadly, "that would be useless and would -do no good. Such an acknowledgment would only lead to a lot of -questions being asked by my father's friends, and then the whole -unhappy business would be raked up. I don't want my miserable story to -be published in the papers, especially as Mr. Hale's name is so -notorious. Let me marry you quietly, my dear, and then we can go away -to France with my father for a few months. I have you, I have the -money left to me by my mother, and I have found my real father--the -rest matters very little." - -George kissed her. "You wise little darling," he said admiringly, -"I think your decision is exactly what I should expect from your -commonsense way of looking at things. I agree with you, that it is -best to let sleeping dogs lie, and not to stir up muddy water, and not -to--to--what other proverb shall I use, Lesbia?" - -"'Let the dead past bury its dead,'" she replied, seriously. "We have -had much trouble, and we have been parted. Now the troubles appear to -have come to an end and we are together. Let us marry and enjoy our -good fortune and be happy in our own small way." - -"Amen! amen! amen!" said George, laughing, "and indeed I think we -deserve the good fortune for we did not refuse to bear the cross." - -"And so have gained the crown of perfect love," said Lesbia -contentedly as she nestled in her lover's arms. - -The garden was still brilliant with many-hued roses, and the river -murmured a joyous song as it flowed tranquilly under the deeply blue -summer sky. But the blackbird and his mate had gone away with their -brood and the nest was deserted. Still other birds remained and other -birds were singing lustily of summer joys. Basking in the warm -sunshine, contented with each other's company, George and Lesbia -passed into that hour of silence, which speaks of love so deep that no -speech is needed. They listened to the birds, to the river, to the -whispering of the breeze, and dreamed of a future that would always be -happy. They were together, they understood each other, so nothing else -mattered. - -But their golden hour was disturbed by Tim, who hobbled down the -pathway with a distressed look on his ugly, kind face. The two -expected him, so the arrival was not an intrusion. For several days -Lesbia had insisted that Tim should explain how much he had known of -the many disgraceful things lately found out. Hitherto Tim had evaded -an explanation, but on that morning he had gravely promised to tell -what he knew. Therefore, when he halted before the dreaming couple, -George roused himself. - -"Here is Tim, my darling," he said with a laugh, "put him in the -witness-box." - -"Ye might say the confessional, Masther Garge," replied Tim, squatting -on the dry grass and looking like a good-tempered gnome. "What is it -ye want to know, me darlin' heart?" - -"About my father--that is about Mr. Hale," said Lesbia, who had been -addressed. - -"The bands av death on him," muttered Tim, using an ancient Irish -oath. "Sure I knew he wasn't any kith or kin av yours, Miss, though by -the same token I niver rightly knew as his lardship was yer father." - -"Tim," said his young mistress severely, "you told Mrs. Walker in my -presence that there was no child with the poor lady who died at -Wimbledon." - -"Is ut yer mother ye talk av, Miss?" asked Tim innocently. "Sure ut -was lyin' I wor, an' if I hadn't lied, that divil--ut's the masther I -mane--wud have brought throuble on ye." - -"In what way, Tim?" asked George, looking puzzled. - -"Augh, nivir ask me, sor. But wasn't I always listenin' and pokin' an' -pryin' when that divil--ut's the masther I mane--had thim dirthy -tatterdemalions here? Thaves they wor, an' spies, an' racavers av -stolen goods, bad luck to thim! The masther caught me wan night an' -larned as I knew av the divilments he wor indulgin' in. An' ses he, -'Tim,' ses he, if ye breathe wan wurrd I go to gaol, an' by the same -token I'll see that Miss Lesbia goes wid me. Well ye know,' ses he, -'as she lies whin callin' me her father, but if ye tell her I am not,' -ses he, 'it manes gaol fur us both.' Augh!" Tim rocked in much -distress, "an' what cud I do, Miss dear, me not knowin' the true -father av ye." - -"And if you had known, Tim?" asked Lesbia anxiously. - -"If I'd known as his lardship wor yer father," said Tim emphatically, -"I wud have gone on me bare shinbones to ask him to take ye out av -this divil's house. But me masther--bad luck to him!--lied like the -father av lies, as he'll some day go to, an' being in the dark as it -wor, I didn't dare to let a mouse's squeak av what I knew come to yer -purty ears, Miss." - -"But you hinted that the cross would bring trouble, Tim." - -"I did that, Miss. Sure, whin the mother that bore ye died in the -arrums av me own mother she guv the crass, 'an',' ses she, wid her -last gasp, 'let me choild have it, whin she grows up to prove as she's -me lawful choild. An' if there's money comin',' ses she, 'though be the -same token, me sister has got it all, the crass may git it fur the -choild. But nivir let her see her father,' ses she, 'for a bad man he's -bin to me.'" - -"Not altogether bad, Tim," said Lesbia gently, "my mother was -deceived. Did she tell Bridget my father's name?" - -"No, Miss," said Tim promptly, "had she towld, I'd have larned it whin -me own mother died, and thin I'd have asked his lardship to take ye -from this divil--ut's the masther I mane. But me mother sid nothin' -for she knew nothin', save what she towld ye about the crass. 'And,' -ses me mother to me whin she guv ye the crass, there'll be throuble -over yon crass,' ses she, 'fur th' Sight's on me being near me latter -end,' ses she. 'Throuble there'll be over the crass, an' sorrow an' -tears an' sudden death. But thim who love will win clear and thim as -is bad will come to the black grave.'" - -"There has been trouble certainly, Tim," said Lesbia sighing, "and the -cross both began it and ended it, as your mother declared it would. -But now, thank God," she turned to place her arms round George's neck, -"it's all over and we shall have no more. Your mother prophesied -rightly, Tim, save that there has been no sudden death or black grave, -and there isn't likely to be." - -Tim rocked and shook his huge head. "Thim as is goin' to their long -rest sees things as thim aloive can't get a squint at. Me mother -foresaw th' sorrow an' tears av th' crass an' the joy which ye an' -Masther Garge there have now, good luck to both ay ye! So the sudden -death an' the black grave will come I doubt not. But here, me dears," -said Tim, after a pause, "there's wan thing ye don't know as I'll tell -ye." - -"And what is that?" asked George, smiling. - -"'Twas me, Masther Garge, as carried ye from the river bank to the -room in yonder," Tim nodded towards the cottage. "I wor out fishin' an' -I saw ye in the moonlight lying on the path, though be me sowl I nivir -dreamed 'twas you. I rowed ashore an' found ye stunned an' bound, bad -luck to the divil who did ut! I tuke ye into the cottage and called -softly to the young misthress there. She thought 'twas a drame an' -come down to see to you. An' now ye know, both av ye." - -Lesbia and George looked at one another in astonishment. "Why didn't -you tell us this before?" asked Walker sharply. "And why did you bring -me to the cottage?" - -"Sure now," said Tim in injured tones, "didn't I think as 'twas the -masther had been up to some divilment, and didn't dare spake in case -he'd get Miss Lesbia clapped into gaol 'longside him? But I knew as -the masther wud nivir dare to harrum ye in his own house wid Miss -Lesbia by the side av ye, an' so I brought ye here into his very jaws -as it wor. An' wasn't I right, me dear sor?" - -"Yes," assented Walker promptly, "I think you were. It was very clever -of you to have protected me in that way, even though it was Canning -and not Hale who assaulted me. Well, Lesbia," he turned to the girl, -"here is another thing made clear. Quite a surprise." - -"I hope it is the last surprise," said the girl, wearily, "I am very -tired of being surprised." - -"In that case," said a smooth voice at her elbow, "you will be tired at -seeing me." - -Lesbia started to her feet with a cry, and George with an exclamation -of astonishment. As to Tim, he scrambled to his feet with an oath. -"Augh, murther! murther!" cried the Irishman, "it's the black divil -his own silf." - -"That's complimentary," said Hale, who was standing calm and composed -near the lovers. "You were so busily engaged talking, Lesbia, that you -did not hear me come down the path." - -"How dare you come here?" said the girl indignantly. - -"It's my own house. I had the key," retorted Hale coolly. "I opened -the front door and entered. Finding no one within I came here and find -that Tim is giving me away. But I am not so black as I am painted." - -"You are much worse, I daresay," said George bluntly. - -"Oh, you're there, you lucky young man," said Hale, raising his -eyebrows. "I congratulate you on marrying Lesbia and on getting the -money." - -"In spite of all your plotting," said Walker sharply. - -Hale sat down on the bench with a sudden look of fatigue. He was cool -and smiling and bore himself both shamelessly and dauntlessly. But it -was apparent that he behaved thus out of bravado. In spite of his -boldness, and of the fact that he was dressed as carefully as ever, he -was thoroughly ill and had his back to the wall. - -"You had better leave this place," said Lesbia, to her lover, "the -police are hunting for you." - -"Someone else is hunting for me," said Hale gloomily, "Maud Ellis is -on my track swearing vengeance." - -"Why should she?" - -"Because to get the money and induce her to play her part, I promised -to marry her. I have no intention of doing so. Then again, for my own -safety, I have sent a communication to the police offering to tell all -I know about Tait and his gang on condition that I am let off. Maud, -confound her, has found this out, and swears to have my life." - -"She would scarcely go so far as that," said George scornfully. - -"Oh, I think so," said Hale quietly, "she can't show herself, as she -is in danger from the police also, and so will revenge herself as she -best can. I don't think there's much she would stick at. I caught -sight of her on the London platform as I came down this morning, so I -expect she will follow me to this house. There will be trouble unless -you can aid me to get away." - -"How can we compound a felony?" asked George, frowning. - -"It is better than to see a tragedy," retorted Hale. "I am not afraid -of Maud unless she takes me by surprise; but that is just what she -will do. I am not your father, Lesbia, as you know now, and perhaps I -have not been kind in my treatment. All the same I ask you to exercise -that kind nature which you always declared you possessed, and give me -fifty pounds to get abroad with. Once across the Channel I can shift -for myself." - -"I have not got fifty pounds," said Lesbia hesitating. Badly as Hale -had treated her she yet wished to assist him, and truly he was in -great need of the coals of fire which she could heap upon his head. - -"You can soon get it," said Hale eagerly. "Charvington will give you -anything. Send Walker to ask him for the money and I can remain -concealed in the cottage until he returns." - -The lovers looked at one another. Both were inclined to assist the -miserable man, little as he deserved kindness at their hands. Tim, -with a grim face, stood neutral, but being of a less forgiving nature, -would gladly have pitched his old master into the river had Lesbia but -lifted a finger. But she gave no sign, so Tim waited. It was hard to -say what would have happened had not Fate decided the matter. - -The four people in the garden were so deeply engaged in conversation -that they did not observe a boat crossing the river from the opposite -shore, some distance above the garden. Tim, indeed, did catch a -glimpse of a craft holding two people, but did not take much notice. -The boat reached the near shore and then dropped down alongside the -bank until it was directly abreast of the chestnut tree. Then for the -first time, George and Lesbia looked round at the sound of dipping -oars. Hale raised his head and looked also. The next moment there was -the sharp report of a revolver and he rolled off the bench shot -through the breast. Twice again the revolver spoke and twice Hale was -wounded. Maud Ellis was a sure shot. - -"There," cried she, flinging the weapon ashore to Lesbia, "you can -finish him off. He betrayed my uncle, he betrayed me, he betrayed us -all. Only Sargent, who is rowing me, and I have escaped. Good-bye, -Lesbia, you have your lover--my lover--the man I adore. I hope -you'll be happy. I have done justice on that blackguard, so I -am going to clear. You'll never see me again, and you can thank your -stars that I did not kill you as well as that scoundrel there. -George--good-bye--good-bye." - -She sat down quickly in the boat, which was already receding rapidly -from the garden. Sargent apparently had not expected that Maud would -have been so thorough in her vengeance and could be seen talking -angrily to her. He rowed with all his might across the river, let the -boat drift down-stream and leaped ashore. Maud followed alertly and -the two set off running rapidly. Where they went, or how they escaped -George never knew; but that was the last seen of them in England. - -Meanwhile Lesbia was on her knees beside the wretched man who -had done her so much harm, striving to staunch his wounds with her -handkerchief. Tim already had run up the path shouting for the police, -and George was about to follow, as he wanted Maud to be arrested for -her dastardly crime, when Hale opened his eyes. - -"Are you there, Lesbia?" he asked faintly. "It's no use my asking for -your forgiveness, as I hate being a sneak at the last moment. I have -lived bad and I have died bad. But I can say this, that you are the -sole human being I regret having injured. You are a fool, as you have -always been, like your father--but you are a sweet fool. And I--I----" -he choked. - -"Hush! hush!" said Lesbia distractedly. "George, take him into the -house, and fetch the doctor. We must save him----" - -"No," gasped Hale with a flash of energy, "don't save me to let me rot -in gaol. Maud has done me a good turn after all. I die and--and--I -cheat--I cheat the law," he opened his eyes again and stared at the -two pale faces, then smiled. "God bless you," he gasped, "oh, to think -that I should bless----" he laughed, but the effort was too great and -he fell back dead. - -At the same moment Tim came running down with a policeman at his -heels. - -"It's too late, Tim, he is dead," said Lesbia faintly. - -"Dead is ut?" muttered Tim, staring and crossing himself. "Then me -mother wor right in all she said. Sudden death and the black grave. -Augh! Sure 'twas the truth me mother spake afther all." - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI -THE END OF IT ALL - - -THE villa owned by Lord Charvington at Nice was beautifully situated, -beautifully furnished, and beautifully built. Endless money had been -spent upon it to make it as perfect as any human habitation could be. -Lady Charvington was particularly fond of it, and her extravagance was -evident both in the house and in the lovely gardens. Great was her -rage when she heard that her husband had invited George and his young -wife and her arch-enemy Mrs. Walker to stay there with him. But she -was even more angry when she learned that Charvington had made a free -gift of the villa to his daughter. - -"His conduct has always been atrocious," said Lady Charvington to -Jabez, who was the sole person to whom she could speak of such things, -since for her own sake she was forced to hold her tongue to the world -at large, "but this is the worst thing he has ever done. How dare he -give my villa to that horrid girl?" - -"He has every right to," said Jabez drily, "as the villa is Lord -Charvington's own property. And I beg leave to state that I do not -consider young Mrs. Walker a horrid girl. She is very sweet, and is -bearing her good fortune as modestly as she bore her bad luck -bravely." - -"I hate her," said Lady Charvington fervently. - -"Why, may I ask?" - -"Because I hated her mother. I always loved Charvington, and she took -him from me." - -"But you got him in the end," Jabez reminded her. - -"Got him. Yes, I got the rags and tatters of the passion he had for -that detestable Kate Morse. I never forgave her while she lived, and I -certainly shall not forgive her now she is dead." - -"Very good; but you needn't hate her daughter," expostulated Jabez -earnestly; "consider how unhappy the poor girl has been, and through -no fault of her own. Even now--in deference to her own wish, I -admit--she is not acknowledged by her father, publicly at least." - -"I don't care," cried Lady Charvington, with all the venom of an angry -woman. "I hate the girl, and I shall always hate her. But I didn't -come here to listen to your views, Mr. Jabez. What I wish to know is -if I can insist that my villa shall be given back to me." - -"No," said Jabez, and very glad he was to be able to reply in the -negative, "the villa was never settled on you, and Lord Charvington -has a perfect right to deal as he pleases with his own property." - -"It is my property, and Charvington's a brute. I wonder that I ever -loved him--indeed I do," cried the lady vehemently, "and to think of -that horrid girl getting the husband she wanted and the fifty thousand -pounds, and my villa, and--oh!" she stamped, "it makes one doubt if -there is a Providence." - -"I fear," said Jabez gravely, as she rose to depart, "that some day, -if you bear such ill-will towards one who has never injured you, that -you will find there _is_ a Providence." - -"Pooh! pooh! That's all goody-goody talk," said Lady Charvington -contemptuously, "but that I have to think of Agatha and Lena I should -get a separation from my husband. As it is, I shall spend as much -money as I can, and enjoy myself in my own way. I don't want to see -him." - -"I fancy you'll see very little of him," said Jabez drily, as he -accompanied her to the door. "Lord Charvington is fond of a quiet -life. All you have to do is to enjoy your position and the ample -income which he allows you, and hold your tongue about these family -troubles." - -"Oh, of course you are on his side," cried Lady Charvington in a rage. -"I really believe that you suggested he should give that nasty girl my -villa." - -"Pardon me," said the solicitor, skilfully dodging the question, "it -never was your villa." - -"It was, and she has stolen it. I only hope she'll be as thoroughly -unhappy as she well can be, with the fool she's married and her -disagreeable mother-in-law. Judith was always horrid." - -"I fear you will be disappointed. Young Mrs. Walker adores her -mother-in-law, and is adored in turn. They are, as you know, all at -the villa with Lord Charvington and, as I gather, perfectly happy." - -"How disgusting," cried Lady Charvington vindictively, "but I shall -wait for the interference of an overruling Providence. Some day the -sins of the lot of them will come home to them, and they will be -thoroughly miserable." - -"And your ladyship's sins?" inquired Jabez very gravely. - -"Sins," she stared, "I have none." After which speech, which -completely silenced the lawyer, so taken aback was he by its amazing -impudence, she took her departure. All the same she also took his -advice and said nothing of what had happened in connection with the -affairs of the amethyst cross. And in time--as she could not keep up a -hostile attitude for ever--she found it politic to smooth over things -with her worried husband. But she never forgave Lesbia to her dying -day. - -Not that Lesbia cared. She was absolutely happy with her husband and -mother-in-law and father at the villa. The income derived from her -mother yielded over two thousand a year, and this had been -supplemented by Lord Charvington, anxious to make amends. What with a -large income and a lovely villa, and a handsome, affectionate husband, -Lesbia was very fortunate indeed, and felt quite glad that she had -gone through so much trouble, to get to such a goal. Something of this -sort she said to her father one evening after dinner. - -The party were seated on the terrace which overlooked the deeply blue -waters of the Mediterranean. At the moment, these were dyed with rosy -hues from the setting sun. Mrs. Walker, looking much less stern and -much more composed, was seated in a deep arm-chair near Lesbia, whom -she could scarcely bear out of her sight. Lord Charvington, now -looking wonderfully hale and hearty--for it was six months since his -attack of apoplexy--sat near a small round table upon which stood -coffee and liqueurs. George lounged about with a cigar, casting looks -of affection on Lesbia. The quartette, arrayed in evening dress amidst -beautiful surroundings, looked thoroughly happy and well-to-do. After -the storm had come the calm, and when recalling the storm, as -sometimes she could not help doing, Lesbia always spoke cheerfully. - -"The trouble was worth going through, to come to this," she said, -smiling in a happy manner. - -"I think so too, dear," observed George, who was always hovering in -her vicinity. "And I think we have learned the lesson which those very -troubles were sent to teach." - -"What lesson?" asked Lord Charvington lazily. - -"To trust in God." - -"Yes," said Mrs. Walker, who was knitting, "you and Lesbia have -learned that, and I have learned a lesson also. I have learned to be -more sympathetic and more liberal-minded. We are all mortal, and no -one has any right to judge another person not knowing that person's -temptations." - -"Do you allude to Walter?" asked Charvington. - -"Yes. He behaved badly, I allow; but then his will was not strong -enough to struggle against the evil that was in him. And after all," -Mrs. Walker laid down her knitting, "he was terribly punished. He was -snatched out of life unprepared. I hope he has found mercy. But the -evil that he did lived after him. Alas! Alas!" - -"I think Tait and his gang found that was so," said George grimly. -"From what was said at the trial, it seemed that Hale was the soul of -the gang, even though Tait posed as the head. Canning, of course, -escaped because he turned king's evidence and is now in Italy; but -Tait got a long sentence." - -"Mrs. Petty and the rest of the gang also," observed Charvington, "but -Maud Ellis and Alfred Sargent escaped." - -"They were very lucky," said George reflectively. "The police, advised -by Tim, were on their track almost at once, but they never caught -them. As they were not disguised I wonder that they ever escaped." - -"Hale was not disguised either, I heard you say," remarked -Charvington. "It seems to me that audacity favoured the lot of them. -Hale would have escaped also, I doubt not, had he not been shot by -that wretched woman." - -"Why do you shudder, George?" asked Mrs. Walker, at this point. - -"I am thinking how easily she could have shot Lesbia," said George -reluctantly. "She had two or three shots left after she polished off -Hale. But she flung the revolver ashore and made a sentimental speech -wishing myself and Lesbia good luck. I should have thought--but -there," George sighed, "no man can understand a woman." - -"No woman can understand a man," said Lesbia, laughing. "But I am glad -Maud did not shoot me. Where is she now?" - -Charvington removed his cigar. "I have reason to believe, from some -facts which came to Jabez's ears, that she has married Alfred Sargent -and is engaged in making trouble in a South American Republic." - -"Sargent is not strong enough to do much," objected George. - -Mrs. Walker shook her head. "I believe Alfred Sargent was a much -cleverer man than his appearance warranted," she said sharply. "He -looked like a fool, but he acted like a wise man. Not only did he -escape, but he managed to carry off his thievish earnings. Then look -how cleverly he behaved in society in never being suspected. Yet he -stole--as we learned at the trial of Tait and the rest--at balls, at -weddings, from private houses, and blackmailed any number of people. A -dangerously clever man, I call him." - -"Well, don't let us talk any more about him," said Charvington -impatiently, "Maud is clever if you like, and probably will end in -imposing him on some second-rate republic, as its President, even -though he is a foreigner. I believe that there is no end to that -woman's ambition. But he and she are both out of our lives. Also Hale -is dead, and as Lesbia has now changed her name, she will not be -connected with the sordid past in any way. Let us talk of something -more agreeable." - -"The amethyst cross for instance," said Lesbia pointedly. - -Charvington wriggled. "Why? That belongs to the disagreeable past." - -"It taught George and me a lesson," said Lesbia seriously, "and I am -sorry that it has been lost sight of." - -"It has not been lost sight of," said Charvington, after a pause. -"Jabez got it from Hale and restored it to me. But I did not show it -to you, Lesbia child, because I thought that the sight of it would be -painful." - -"Not now, that I have learned its lesson. Where is it, father?" - -"Call Tim." - -Lesbia rang a silver bell which was on the table and shortly Tim, -looking more grotesque and more like a gnome than ever, appeared. He -was with the young couple as the majordomo of their small household, -and enjoyed himself hugely. "Tim," ordered Lord Charvington, giving -him a key, "go to my study and open my dispatch box. Bring me the -morocco case you will find in it. A red morocco case." - -"Yes, yer lardship," said the majordomo gravely, as he departed. - -"Are you sure you want the cross, Lesbia?" asked Mrs. Walker -seriously. - -"Yes. Whenever I forget to be kind and thoughtful, whenever I am -inclined to judge others harshly, the cross will remind me of my own -shortcomings." - -"You have none, dear," said George fondly. - -"George," Mrs. Walker smiled, "you are spoiling her." - -"I know someone else who spoils me more," whispered Lesbia roguishly, -and Mrs. Walker smoothed the girl's hair. - -At this moment Tim returned with the case. Lord Charvington opened it -and took out the ornament which glittered in the rosy hues of sunset. - -"Presarve us!" whispered Tim crossing himself. "The unlucky crass!" - -"Lucky now, Tim," said Charvington, slipping a slender watch-chain he -wore from his waistcoat. "It found me my daughter. Here, Lesbia," he -threaded the loop at the top of the cross, "you can wear it now." - -Lesbia bent her head and her father threw the chain on her neck. The -amethyst cross gleamed with purple fire on her white bosom, a symbol -of all that had passed and a symbol also of a brighter future. "I -shall always wear it," said Lesbia with serious lovely eyes. - -"'Refuse and lose,'" said George meditatively, "well we have not -refused the cross although I daresay had it been in our powers to do -so we should have shirked the burden." - -"Thank Heaven you were not allowed to, for the bearing of the burden -has taught you much," said Mrs. Walker devoutly. - -"It has earned me the crown of perfect love," said George, drawing -Lesbia to his breast. - -"And that is worth everything," Lesbia replied, kissing him. - - - - - -THE END - - - - - -COLSTON AND CO. LTD. 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