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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/75643-0.txt b/75643-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2ac892b --- /dev/null +++ b/75643-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12585 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75643 *** + + + + + + THE + BLACK + ABBOT + + BY + EDGAR WALLACE + + + + + DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, INC. + GARDEN CITY--NEW YORK--1928 + + + + + [COPYRIGHT] + + COPYRIGHT, 1926, 1927, BY EDGAR + WALLACE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. + + + + + CONTENTS + + Chapter I + Chapter II + Chapter III + Chapter IV + Chapter V + Chapter VI + Chapter VII + Chapter VIII + Chapter IX + Chapter X + Chapter XI + Chapter XII + Chapter XIII + Chapter XIV + Chapter XV + Chapter XVI + Chapter XVII + Chapter XVIII + Chapter XIX + Chapter XX + Chapter XXI + Chapter XXII + Chapter XXIII + Chapter XXIV + Chapter XXV + Chapter XXVI + Chapter XXVII + Chapter XXVIII + Chapter XXIX + Chapter XXX + Chapter XXXI + Chapter XXXII + Chapter XXXIII + Chapter XXXIV + Chapter XXXV + Chapter XXXVI + Chapter XXXVII + Chapter XXXVIII + Chapter XXXIX + Chapter XL + Chapter XLI + Chapter XLII + Chapter XLIII + Chapter XLIV + Chapter XLV + Chapter XLVI + Chapter XLVII + Chapter XLVIII + Chapter XLIX + Chapter L + Chapter LI + Chapter LII + Chapter LIII + Chapter LIV + Chapter LV + Chapter LVI + Chapter LVII + Chapter LVIII + Chapter LIX + Chapter LX + Chapter LXI + Chapter LXII + Chapter LXIII + Chapter LXIV + Chapter LXV + + + + + THE BLACK ABBOT + + I + +“Thomas!” … “Yes, m’lord.” + +Thomas the footman waited, a look of concentrated interest on his +unprepossessing face, whilst the pale man behind the big library desk +sorted out a small pile of treasury notes. The battered steel box from +which they were taken was full to the brim with bank and treasury +notes of all denominations in hopeless confusion. + +“Thomas!” absently. + +“Yes, m’lord.” + +“Put this money in that envelope--not that one, you fool, the gray +one. Is it addressed?” + +“Yes, m’lord. ‘Herr Lubitz, Frankfurterstrasse 35, Leipsic,’ m’lord.” + +“Lick it down, take it to the post office and register it. Is Mr. +Richard in his study?” + +“No, m’lord, he went out an hour ago.” + +Harry Alford, eighteenth Earl of Chelford, sighed. He was on the right +side of thirty, thin of face and pale as students are, his jet-black +hair emphasizing the pallor of his skin. The library in which he +worked was a high-roofed building, the walls bisected by a gallery +that ran round three sides of the room and was reached by a circular +iron staircase in one corner of the apartment. From the roof to the +floor every inch of wall space was covered with bookshelves with this +notable exception. Over the great stone fireplace was a full-length +painting of a beautiful woman. None who had seen his lordship could +make any mistake as to the relationship which existed between himself +and that wild-eyed beauty. It was his mother; she had the same +delicate features, the same raven hair and dark, fathomless eyes. Lady +Chelford had been the most famous débutante of her time, and her +tragic end had been the sensation of the early ’nineties. There was no +other picture in the room. + +His eyes strayed to the portrait now. To Harry Alford, Fossaway Manor, +for all its beauty and charm, was a poor casket for such a jewel. + +The footman in his sober black livery, his hair powdered white, +lingered. + +“Is that all, m’lord?” + +“That is all,” said his lordship gravely. Yet when the man had moved +noiselessly to the door-- + +“Thomas!” + +“Yes, m’lord.” + +“I heard something by accident as you passed my window this morning +with Filling the groom--er----?” + +“He was telling me about the Black Abbot, m’lord.” + +The pale face twitched spasmodically. Even in broad daylight, with the +sun streaming through the stained windows and marking the parquet with +arabesques of crimson and blue and amethyst, the very mention of the +Black Abbot set his heart beating faster. + +“Any man in my employ who discusses the Black Abbot will be instantly +dismissed. Will you tell your fellow servants that, Thomas? A ghost! +Great God! Are you all mad?” + +His face was red now, little veins swelled at his temples, and under +the stream of anger his dark eyes seemed to recede into his head. + +“Not a word! You understand? It is a lie! A mischievous wicked lie to +say that Fossaway is haunted! It is a trick played by some of the +louts about the place. That will do!” + +He waved the bowing man from his presence and resumed his study of the +black-lettered book that had arrived from Germany that morning. + +Once outside the library door, Thomas could afford to twist his sallow +features to a grin. Only for a second, and then he became serious +again. There must be nearly a thousand pounds in that cash box and +Thomas had once served a three-year sentence for a tenth of that sum. +Even Mr. Richard Alford, who knew most things, was unaware of this +interesting fact. + +Thomas had a letter to write, for he maintained a lucrative +correspondence with one who had an especial interest in Fossaway +Manor, but first he had to report the gist of the conversation to Mr. +Glover, the butler. + +“I don’t care what his lordship says (and why he should tell a footman +and not me, I don’t know) there’s a ghost and all sorts of people have +seen it! I wouldn’t walk down Elm Drive alone at night for fifty +million pounds!” + +This portly man shook a head that the years had silvered. + +“And his lordship believes it too. I wish he was married, that’s what +I wish. He’ll be more sensible then!” + +“And we’ll get rid of Mr. Blooming Alford--eh, Mr. Glover?” + +The butler sniffed. + +“There’s them that likes him and them that don’t,” said the oracle. +“We’ve never had a cross word, Thomas---- There’s somebody at the +door.” + +Thomas hurried to the hall entrance and opened the big door. A girl +was standing under the portico. She was pretty in a bold way, red of +lips and bright of eye and dressed expensively. + +Thomas gave her a grin of recognition. + +“Good-morning, Miss Wenner--this is a bit of a surprise!” + +“Is his lordship in, Thomas?” + +The footman pursed his lips dubiously. + +“He _is_ in, miss, but I’m afraid I can’t take you in to him. Don’t +blame me, miss, it’s Mr. Alford’s orders.” + +“Mr. Alford!” she sneered. “Do you mean to tell me that I’ve come all +the way from London and can’t see Lord Chelford?” + +But Thomas kept his hand on the door. He liked the girl who, when she +had been his lordship’s secretary, had never given herself airs (the +unpardonable sin of the servants’ hall) and who always had a smile for +the meanest of the domestic staff. He would gladly have admitted her +and felt that his lordship would have been pleased to see her, but in +the background somewhere hovered Dick Alford, a man of curt speech, +who was not only capable of showing him the door but kicking him +through it. + +“I’m very sorry, miss, but orders is orders, as you know.” + +“I see!” she nodded ominously. “I’m to be turned away from what might +have been my own door, Thomas.” + +He tried to look his sympathy and succeeded in assuming an expression +of imbecility. She smiled at him, shook hands with him graciously, and +turned away from the portico. + +“Miss Wenner,” reported Thomas, “her that Alford fired because he +thought his lordship was getting sweet on her----” + +The library bell rang at that moment and Thomas hastened to answer the +call. “Who was that lady? I saw her through the window.” + +“Miss Wenner, m’lord.” + +A cloud passed over Harry Alford’s face. + +“Did you--ask her to come in?” + +“No, m’lord, Mr. Alford gave orders----” + +“Of course… yes. I had forgotten. Perhaps it is just as well. Thank +you.” + +He pulled down the green shade over his eyes, for even in the day he +worked by artificial light, such was the gloom in the library, and +resumed his study of the book. + +Yet his mind was not wholly concentrated on the work. Once he rose and +walked up and down the library, his hands clasped before him, his chin +on his breast. He stopped before the picture of his mother, sighed, +and walked back to the writing table. There was a press paragraph +which he had cut out of a London newspaper and this he read for the +third time, not ill pleased with the unaccustomed experience of +finding himself the subject of newspaper comment, and yet irritated by +the subject on which the paragraph was based. + + + Chelfordbury, a sleepy Sussex village, is engaged in the thrilling + sport of ghost-hunting. The Black Abbot of Fossaway has, after a + period of quiescence, again made his appearance. The legend is that + seven hundred years ago, the Abbot of Chelfordbury was assassinated by + order of the Second Earl of Chelford. Since then, from time to time, + his “ghost” has been seen. During the past few years horrific stories + of an Unseen Being that shrieked and howled demoniacally have been + current in the county, but the noisy spook was not actually seen until + last week. + + Fossaway Manor has other romances besides ghosts. Four hundred years + ago, a great treasure of gold was, according to legend, hidden + somewhere on the estate; so effectually, in fact, that it has never + been discovered since, although successive Earls of Chelford have + searched diligently for the ancestral hoard. + + The present Earl of Chelford, who, by the way, is engaged to be + married to Miss Leslie Gwyn, the only sister of Mr. Arthur Gwyn, the + well-known solicitor, informed our local representative that he had no + doubt that the apparition of the Black Abbot was a practical joke in + very doubtful taste on the part of the foolish youth of the + neighbourhood. + + +He made as though to tear the paper but thought better of it and put +the cutting under a paper weight. + +That reference to the practical jokers of the village was reassuring +and might be a comfort when the night came and he needed +encouragement. + +For Lord Chelford believed in the Black Abbot as religiously as he +proclaimed his scepticism. + +His restless hand moved to the bell-push on his table. + +“Has Mr. Richard returned?” + +“No, m’lord.” + +Lord Chelford struck the table pettishly with his palm. + +“Where on earth does he get to in the mornings?” he asked querulously. + +Thomas, very wisely, pretended not to hear. + + + + + II + +The reapers had laid low the last of the golden heads, and the +sheaves stood like yellow tombstones on Racket Field. Beyond the field +was Chelfordbury, where the gray old spire of the church came up from +a velvety knoll of trees; beyond again, the green and white downs of +Sussex, along the foot of which the railway runs. + +Dick Alford sat on a stile on the top of a little hillock and could +see across the weald for fifteen miles. He could turn his head and +take in the home farm and the green roofs and cupolas of Fossaway +Manor, with its broad lawns and its clipped yew hedges. Neither +cornfield nor down, manor house nor pleasaunce, interested him for the +moment. His eyes were fixed and his mind centred upon the girl who was +walking quickly up the winding path that would bring her presently to +where he sat. + +She was singing as she walked, the riding crop she carried whirling +round and round like a drum major’s baton. His lips twitched to the +ghost of a smile. Presently she would see him, and he wondered if she +would be annoyed. He had never seen Leslie Gwyn except in such +circumstances that her face was a pleasant mask and her manner +conventionally charming. She had been nicely brought up and taught +that all things are permissible except one: to make one’s equal feel +foolish. + +The song ceased. She had seen him, but she did not check her pace and +came quickly up the hill path, slashing at a nettle bush as she +walked. + +“Peeping Tom!” she greeted him reproachfully. + +She was not so tall as the average English girl, but her slimness gave +her height, and the supple movement of her hinted at greater strength +than her slight figure suggested. Her face, delicately modelled, had +the subtle refinement of her class. Small, beautiful hands and feet, a +head finely poised, eyes of a deep gray, and a red mouth that smiled +easily, Leslie Gwyn in rags would have been unmistakably a beautiful +lady. + +Dick had seen her riding; she gripped the withers with her knees, +jockey fashion, and was part of the horse. He had seen her on the +polished dancing floor; there was lissom grace in every line. When he +danced with her, he held in his arms a fragrant something that had +more substance and character than he had thought. The hand on his +shoulder was definitely placed, the body which his arm encircled was +firm; he could feel the tiny muscles ripple under his hand. + +She stood now, her little black riding hat askew, her figure clad in +neat black relieved by the lawn collar. Her neatly booted legs were +planted stubbornly apart, one gloved hand holding her waist, the other +swinging the crop. In her gray eyes was an imp of mischief that +gleamed and danced all the merrier for the studied solemnity of every +other feature. + +Dick Alford, from his vantage place on the top rail of the stile, +chewed a blade of toddy grass between his white teeth and surveyed her +approvingly. + +“Been riding, Leslie?” + +“I have been riding,” she said gravely, and added: “a horse.” + +He looked round innocently. + +“Where is the favoured animal?” he demanded. + +She looked at him suspiciously, but not a muscle of the tanned, lean +face so much as twitched. + +“I dismounted to pick wild flowers and the beastie ran away. You saw +him!” she accused. + +“I saw something that looked like a horse running toward Willow +House,” he confessed calmly. “I thought he had thrown you.” + +She nodded. + +“For that prevarication you can go and find him--I’ll wait here,” she +said, and, when he got down from the stile with a groan: “I meant you +to do that, anyway. The moment I saw you I said to myself: ‘There’s a +lazy man who wants exercise!’ Sisters-in-law-to-be have privileges.” + +He winced a little at this. She may have noticed the cloud that came +momentarily to his face, for she put out her hand and checked him. + +“One of the grooms can find him, Dick. He is such a hungry pig that he +is certain to make for his stable… no, I _don’t_ mean the groom. Sit +down; I want to talk to you.” + +She swung up to the stile and took the place he had vacated. + +“Richard Alford, I don’t think you are enjoying the prospect of my +being the mistress of Fossaway House?” + +“Manor,” he corrected. + +“Don’t quibble--are you?” + +“I count the days,” he said lightly. + +“Do you?” + +He took a battered silver case from his hip pocket, selected a +cigarette and lit it. + +“My dear Leslie----” he began, but she shook her head. She was very +serious now. + +“You think I will--interfere with things? With the management of the +estate--I know poor Harry couldn’t manage a small holding--with--oh, +with all sorts of things, but I think you are wrong.” + +He blew three smoke rings into the air before he answered. + +“I wish you would manage the estate,” he said quietly. “It would be a +blessing to me. No, I’m not worried about that. With your +money--forgive the brutality--the estate will not count. A bailiff +could manage it as well as any second son!” + + + + + III + +He spoke without bitterness, without a hint of self-pity, and she +was silent. He was the child of a second marriage, and that had made +it worse for him. When old Lord Chelford followed Dick’s mother to the +grave, the second son’s portion was his. The estate, the title, the +very car he had used as his own, passed from him. A tiny estate in +Hertfordshire that brought two hundred a year, some old jewellery of +his mother’s and a thousand pounds came the way of the second son. And +the thousand pounds had never been paid. In some mysterious fashion it +had been swallowed up. + +Mr. Arthur Gwyn had settled the estate. In all the circumstances Dick +felt happier when he did not think of that thousand pounds. Yet, for +some reason or other, he thought of it now, and as though she read his +thoughts dimly, and associated his reserve with her brother, she +asked: + +“You don’t like Arthur, do you?” + +“What makes you say that?” he said, in genuine surprise. He had never +betrayed his aversion to the dandified lawyer. + +“I know,” she nodded wisely. “He exasperates me sometimes, and I can +well imagine that a man like you would hate him.” + +Dick smiled. + +“Harry doesn’t hate him anyway, and he is the person who counts.” + +She looked round at him, swinging the crop idly. + +“It doesn’t seem real to me that I’m to be married at all--it was such +a funny proposal, Dick, so polite, so formal, so--unreal! I think if +it had come in any other way----” She shook her head. + +Dick wondered a little drearily how his brother would propose. Harry +was something of a novice at the love game; once he had had a pretty +secretary, and on a warm June afternoon Dick had interrupted what was +tantamount to a proposal from the enterprising young lady. And the +flustered Harry would have agreed to her matrimonial suggestions, only +Dick had happened along--and the calculating Miss Wenner had left +Fossaway Manor rather hurriedly. He remembered this happening. + +“I suppose if he had proposed in the conventional way you wouldn’t +have accepted him?” + +“I don’t know,” she said dubiously. “But it was quaint and--queer. I +like Harry awfully. I have often wondered if he would like me if----” +She did not finish her sentence. + +“If you weren’t so horribly rich?” smiled Dick. “You’re not paying him +a very high compliment.” + +She held out her arms and he lifted her down, though there seemed no +necessity for it, as she was a very agile young person as a rule. + +“Dick,” she said, as he crossed the stile and they walked side by side +toward the main road, “what am I to do?” + +“About what?” he asked. + +“About Harry and everything.” + +He had no answer to this. + +“Arthur is very keen on my marrying him,” she said. “And really, I’m +not averse--at least, I don’t think so.” + +“That is the worst of being a great heiress,” he bantered. + +“I wonder?” Her brow wrinkled in a frown. “And am I a great heiress?” + +He stopped and looked at her in surprise. + +“Aren’t you?” + +He seemed so shocked that she laughed. + +“I don’t know; my uncle left me a lot of money years and years ago. I +don’t know how much--Arthur has managed my estate for years. I have +all the money I need.” + +“Then don’t grouse!” he said crudely, and she laughed again. + +“I suppose most girls in my position have their marriages arranged in +the way mine has been arranged, and until quite recently I have +accepted the idea as part of the inevitable.” + +“And why have you changed your mind now?” he asked bluntly, and saw +the pink come into her face. + +“I don’t know.” Her answer was very short, almost brusque. + +And then she saw the look in his eyes--the infinite yearning, the +hopelessness of them. And in a flash there came to her a knowledge of +herself. + +For some reason which she could not understand she became of a sudden +breathless, and almost found a difficulty in speaking. She felt that +the thump and thud of her heart must be audible to his ears and strove +desperately to recover her balance. Vividly before her eyes came the +picture of her fiancé, the thin, irritable young man--the weakling +with all that man needed in his hands, save manhood. A pitiable, +nerve-racked creature, now pleading, now bullying--oblivious of the +impression he made on the woman who was to share his life. And from +this mental figure of him, her eyes moved mechanically to the man by +her side; calm, serene, radiant in his strength and self-reliance. + +Ten minutes later she was walking back to Willow House, and in her +heart she struggled with a problem that seemed well-nigh insoluble. + +Dick Alford, making his slow progress homeward, saw the lank figure of +his brother waiting at the end of the elm drive. + +The wind flapped the skirts of his long frock coat; standing, he +stooped slightly and had a trick of thrusting forward his head, which +gave him the appearance of a big, ungainly bird. His face was dark +with anger, Dick saw, as he came up with him. + +“I deputize many duties to you, Richard, but I’ll do my own +love-making, understand that!” + +The blood came into Dick Alford’s face, but he showed no other sign of +his hurt or anger. + +“I will not have it--you understand?” Lord Chelford’s voice was shrill +with childish fury. “I will not have you interfering in my private +affairs. You sent one girl away from me, you shall not take Leslie!” + +“I am not----” began his brother hotly. + +“You are--you are! You don’t want me to marry! I am not a fool, Dick! +You stand next in the line of succession! I am going to marry Leslie +Gwyn--understand that! You shall not break that engagement.” + +For a moment the brutality, the injustice of the accusation, left the +younger man white and shaking, and then, with a supreme effort, he +laughed. Scenes such as this were of almost daily occurrence, but +never before had Harry Chelford gone so far. In ten minutes the storm +would pass, and Harry would be his old lovable self, but for the +moment it was bitterly hard to bear. + +“Why do you say such horrible things?” he said. “I got rid of Wenner +because she was not the wife for you----” + +“You didn’t want me to marry! You are waiting for my shoes, a dead +man’s shoes!” almost screamed the elder son. “The last thing in the +world you want to see is a new Countess of Chelford. You know it, you +know it!” + +Dick Alford was silent. God knew his brother spoke the truth! It would +be a woeful day for him when Harry Chelford brought a wife to this +great house to share the dreadful secret which hung like a cloud over +Fossaway Manor. + + + + + IV + +Dick Alford was in the little study where he usually worked, a +businesslike room filled with filing cabinets and deed boxes. The +French windows giving to the lawn were open, for though it was +September the night was warm, and he was working in his shirt-sleeves, +a pipe gripped between his teeth, his eyes protected from the overhead +light by a big green shade that he wore affixed by a band to his head. +If there was a resemblance between Lord Chelford and his mother, not +even the keenest observer could trace in Dick Alford the slightest +likeness to his half-brother. He was a creature of the open, a +six-foot athlete, broad of shoulder and slim of flank, and his tanned +face spoke of a life spent on the windy downs. His blue eyes surveyed +the footman with a quizzical smile, as he pushed his battered old +typewriter aside, relit his pipe, and stretched himself. + +“Black Abbot? Good Lord! Have you seen him, Thomas?” + +“No, sir, I have not seen him. But Mr. Cartwright, the grocer down in +Chelford village…” + +He gave a graphic narrative of Mr. Cartwright’s horror, amazement, and +confusion. + +“They telephoned up from the Red Lion to ask if his lordship had heard +anything about it.” Even Thomas, who believed in nothing except +Thomas, shivered. “It is the first time he has been seen for years +according to all accounts, though he has been heard howling and +moaning. Nobody knows who set fire to the vicarage when the parson was +away at the seaside----” + +“That will do, Thomas. As to Cartwright, he was drunk,” said Dick +cheerily, “or else he saw a shadow.” + +He glanced out at the lawn, bathed in the blue-white rays of a full +moon. + +“You can see things in the moonlight that never were on land or sea. I +understood that his lordship said that the Black Abbot was not to be +discussed?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Then shut up!” said Dick. + +Pipe in mouth, he strolled across the hall into the dimly lit library. + +The three electroliers that hung from the roof were dark. Only the two +green-shaded reading lamps that flanked each side of the desk were +alight, and these intensified the gloom. Dick closed the door behind +him and lounged over toward the desk, pulling a chair behind him. + +Chelford frowned at the sight of his brother. + +“Really, Dick,” he said irritably, “I wish to heaven you wouldn’t loaf +about the place in shirt and breeches. It looks fearfully bad.” + +“It feels fearfully cool,” said Dick, sitting down. “Will your nerves +sustain the smell of a bit of honest baccy?” + +Lord Chelford moved uncomfortably in his chair. Then, reaching out his +hand, he snicked open a gold box and took out a cigarette. + +“My pipe against your stinkers for a hundred pounds!” said Dick, with +a cheery smile. “Cigarettes I can stand, but scented cigarettes----” + +“If you don’t like them, Dick, you can go out,” grumbled his lordship +fretfully. And then in his abrupt way: “Did you see this newspaper +cutting?” + +He pulled the paper from under the crystal weight and Dick skimmed the +lines. + +“We are getting into the public eye, Harry,” he said, “but there is +nothing about me--which is unkind.” + +“Don’t be stupid. How did that get into the papers?” + +“How does anything get into the papers?” asked Dick lazily. “Our spook +is almost as useful as a press agent.” + +Harry snapped round on him. + +“Can’t you take this seriously? Don’t you see that it is worrying me +to death? You know the state of my nerves--you have no sympathy, Dick, +you’re just as hard as rock! Everybody seems to hate the sight of +you.” + +Dick pulled at his pipe glumly. + +“That is my unfortunate character. I am afraid I am getting efficient. +That is the only way I can account for my unpopularity. It keeps me +awake at nights----” + +“Don’t fool, for heaven’s sake!” + +“I’m serious now,” murmured Dick, closing his eyes: “try me with a +hymn!” + +Harry Chelford turned away with a gesture of utter weariness, fingered +the manuscript at his hand, and gazed from his brother to the door. It +was a gesture of dismissal and Dick rose. + +“Don’t you think you’ve done enough work for to-night, Harry?” he +asked gently. “You look absolutely all in.” + +“I never felt better in my life,” said the other emphatically. + +Dick slewed round his head to read the printed page from which his +elder brother had been copying, and saw at once that his effort was in +vain; the book was written in Old German, and Dick’s linguistic +abilities ended at a mastery of restaurant French. Lord Chelford put +down the book with a sigh and sat back in his padded chair. + +“I suppose you think I’m a fool wasting my time on this”--he raised +his hand toward the serried shelves--“when I could be having a very +amusing time with Leslie?” + +Dick nodded. + +“Yes, I think you might be more profitably employed out of doors. +Really, for a bridegroom-to-be, you’re the worst slacker I’ve ever +struck.” + +There was a superiority in Harry Chelford’s smile. + +“Happily, Leslie knows she is marrying a bookworm and not an athlete,” +he said, and, rising, walked over to where Dick was sitting and +dropped his hand on his shoulder. “What would you say if I told you +that I was halfway to discovering the real Chelford Treasure?” + +Dick knew exactly what he would say, but replied diplomatically: + +“I should say you were three parts on the way to discovering the +philosopher’s stone,” he said. + +But his brother was serious. He paced up and down the long library, +his hands behind him, his chin on his breast. + +“I expected you to say that,” he said. “I should have been rather +surprised if you hadn’t. But the Chelford Treasure has an existence, +Dick, and somewhere with it is the greatest treasure of all!” + +His brother listened patiently. He knew by heart the story of the +thousand bars of pure gold, each bar weighing thirty-five pounds. The +legend of the Chelford treasure was inseparable from the Chelford +estate. + +Harry walked quickly to his desk, pulled open a drawer and took out a +small vellum-covered book. The pages were yellow with age and covered +with writing that had faded to a pale green. + +“Listen,” he said, and began reading: + + + “On the fifteenth of the month, the same being the feast day of St. + James, came Sir Walter Hythe, Kt., from his cruise in the Spanish + seas, for the cost of which I raised first three thousand eight + hundred pounds and eight thousand pounds from Bellitti the Lombard, + and Sir Walter Hythe brought with him on ten wagons one thousand + ingots of gold each of thirty-five pounds weight which he had taken + from the two Spanish ships _Esperanza_ and _Escurial_, and these + ingots he shall put away in the safe place if yet the weather be dry + and the drought continue, though rain is near at hand, to judge by the + portents, deeming it wise not to inform my lord Burleigh of the gold + because of the Queen’s Majesty and her covetousness. Also he brought + the crystal flask of Life Water which was given to Don Cortés by the + priest of the Aztec people, a drop of which upon the tongue will + revive even the dead, this being sworn to by Fra Pedro of Sevilla. + This I shall hide with great care in the secret place where the gold + will be stored. To Sir Walter Hythe, Kt., I had given permission that + he keep for himself one hundred bars of like weight and this he did, + thanking me civilly, and sailed off from Chichester in his ship the + _Good Father_ which ship was wrecked on the Kentish coast, Sir Walter + Hythe, his shipmaster, and all his company perishing. Such was his + terrible misfortune. As for myself, being in some danger because of + the part I have taken in promoting the welfare of my true sovereign + lady, Mary----” + + +Lord Chelford looked up and met the steady eyes of his brother. + +“The writing ends there,” he said. “I am certain that he was not +interrupted by the arrival of Elizabeth’s soldiers to arrest him for +his share in the conspiracy to put Mary on the throne. He must have +had time to secrete the treasure. Where is the crystal flask?” + +“Where rather is the gold?” asked the practical Dick. “If I know +anything about Queen Elizabeth, she bagged it! Nobody ever found +it--for four hundred years our respected forefathers have been +searching for this gold----” + +Lord Chelford made an angry gesture. + +“Gold--gold--gold! You think of nothing else! Curse the gold! Find it +and keep it. It is the flask I want!” His voice sank to a whisper, his +face had grown suddenly moist. “Dick, I’m afraid of death. God! You +don’t know how afraid! The fear of it haunts me day and night--I sit +here counting the hours, wondering at which my spirit will go from me! +You’ll laugh--at that--laugh, laugh!” + +But Dick Alford’s face was set, unsmiling. + +“I do not laugh--but can’t you see, Harry, that such a thing as an +elixir of life is preposterous?” + +“Why?” Lord Chelford’s eyes were shining. “Why shouldn’t this +discovery have been made by the ancient civilizations? Why is it more +wonderful than wireless telegraphy or the disintegration of atoms? +Thirty years ago flying was regarded as a miracle. The flask--I want +the flask of Life Water! The gold--throw it into the road--let the +poor devils take it who want it. I want life--do you understand?--life +and the end of fear.” + +He dropped heavily into his chair and wiped his streaming forehead. + +“The end of fear!” he muttered. + +Dick listened, his eyes never leaving his brother’s face. And this was +to be Leslie Gwyn’s husband. He shivered at the thought. + + + + + V + +If the Honourable Richard Fallington Alford had been regarded by the +compilers of such volumes as being sufficiently important to have his +biography enshrined in a popular work of reference, his life’s work, +his hobby, and his recreation would be described as “looking after the +Chelford estates.” His bailiffs said he knew every blade of grass; the +tenant farmers swore he could price a standing crop to the last penny +of its worth. He knew Fossaway Manor, its strength and weakness, +better than the estate architect--could point out where the +foundations were scamped by the Elizabethan builders. He could trace +the walls of the old castle which Richard of York had burnt and razed, +beheading the fourth earl for his treachery under the great archway, +one crumbling pier of which still showed its gray and battered head +above the roses that now surrounded it. He gave to the broad lands of +Chelford a loyal and passionate devotion which any mistress might +envy. + +In the chill of an autumnal morning, when mist blanketed the hollows +and a pale sun was struggling through thin clouds, he strolled across +the park toward the Abbey ruins. There was little of them left. A +truncated tower wrecked by lightning; a high, arched space where an +oriel window had once flamed; mounds of scattered stones left where +Cromwell’s soldiers had overturned them; and, under the carpet of +grass, a “feel” of solid pavement. + +He drew at his pipe as he stepped out, and the tobacco smelt sweet and +wholesome in the cold air. + +He was on his way to the home farm, and his errand was a prosaic one. +A cow had died in the night, and his cowman had reported symptoms of +cattle fever. + +The familiar ruins showed up ahead, the half arch, like a huge +question mark, arrested his eye and raised again the well-argued +problem of restoration. Some day, when the Chelford ship came home, +when that coal vein was proved, or when Harry had a rich wife.… + +This was an unpleasant thought. His lips curled in a grimace of +distaste. + +He stopped suddenly. + +A figure was walking amongst the ruins--a woman. Her back was toward +him and she was obviously unaware of his presence. Something about her +figure seemed familiar--Dick turned from the path and walked toward +her. + +Evidently she did not hear him, for when he spoke she started, uttered +a little scream, and turned a frightened face to him. + +“Good-morning, Miss Wenner,” he said politely. “You are up and about +very early.” + +There was no need for him to wonder whether this girl had ever +forgiven him for the very painful interview that had preceded her +retirement. Recognizing him, her eyes blazed with hate. + +“Good-morning, Mr. Alford.” She was civil enough. “I’m staying in the +village and I thought I would like to come up and see the old place.” + +He nodded gravely. + +“You had a similar thought yesterday,” he said, “and tried to see my +brother.” + +“Well?” defiantly. + +“I gave you to understand, Miss Wenner, that we should all be much +happier if you never again passed the lodge gates,” he said quietly. +“I hate saying this to any woman, but you ought to be the first to +recognize how very uncomfortable you make me feel. I thought you would +apprehend this.” + +“Apprehend” was a stilted word, but he could think of no other. + +“Is that so?” The colour had deepened in her face. “Is--that--so!” + +“That is so,” he nodded. + +She looked at him for a while and her lips curved. + +“I’m sorry I’ve annoyed the family chaperon,” she sneered. + +He could admire, in a detached way, her wholesome good looks; could +even admire her courage. Her wrathful eyes were fixed on his, the +break in her voice betrayed the fury she strove to conceal. As for +Dick Alford, he felt a brute. + +“I’m extremely sorry if you don’t like my calling,” she said, her +voice razor-sharp and tremulous, “but I think the least Lord Chelford +could have done was to see me, considering I’ve worked for him for +three years and after all that has passed between us----” + +“The only thing that passed between you, Miss Wenner, was your weekly +wages,” said Dick, with maddening calmness. + +But now he had taxed her to the limit of endurance. + +“He asked me to marry him and I _would_ have married him if you hadn’t +put your spoke in!” she said shrilly. “I could get thousands and +thousands out of him for breach of promise if I wasn’t a lady! You +second sons and hangers-on poisoned his mind against me! You ought to +be downright ashamed of yourself, you good-for-nothing, penniless +pauper!” + +Dick was faintly amused at the redundancy. + +“You’ve wrecked and ruined my life,” the pretty virago went on, “with +your interference, and after all the work I’ve done! After all them--I +mean those hours I’ve spent with his lordship workin’ at the treasure +an’ he told me I was the most helpful secretary he’d ever had.…” + +He let her talk herself to a sobbing incoherence. + +“All this may be true,” he said soothingly, “and probably is. The +point is, your presence here is a little--indelicate.” + +Seeing her look round over her shoulder as she was talking, he had +taken a quick survey of the ruins, expecting to discover that she had +a companion. But there was nobody in sight. The ground sloped steeply +from where he stood to the little Ravensrill, the broad brook which +had for a thousand years marked the boundary of the manor. Unless +somebody was concealed behind the fallen masonry she was alone. + +“I suppose you want me to clear out now,” she gulped, and he inclined +his head. + +“I will walk with you to Fontwell Cutting--that is the nearest way to +the village,” he said, and she was too much occupied with her +manufactured misery to resent his offer. + +What had she been doing in the Abbey ruins so early in the morning? He +knew that it was useless to ask her. + +As they passed down the steep path to the road she spoke over her +shoulder. + +“I wouldn’t marry him for a million pounds!” she said viciously. “He +is going to marry Leslie Gwyn, isn’t he? I wish him joy!” + +“I will convey your kind message,” he said ironically, an indiscreet +rejoinder, for it roused the devil in her. + +“Mind he doesn’t lose her, that’s all!” she screamed. “I know! +Everybody knows! You want her money too--the Second Son’s in love with +her--that’s a nice lookout for Harry Chelford!” + +He sat swinging his legs over the edge of the bluff, watching her till +she was out of sight. + +Everybody knew that he loved Leslie Gwyn! And only at that moment he +knew it himself! + + + + + VI + +In all the City of London there was perhaps no office more elegant +than that in which Mr. Arthur Gwyn spent his leisurely business hours. +It was a large room, panelled in white wood, with pink-shaded wall +brackets of frosted silver. Its floor was covered with a deep rose +carpet into which the feet sank as into an old lawn; and such +furnishing as the room held was of the most costly description. +Visitors and clients who had business with this dainty lawyer were +warned not to smoke in his sacred presence. The windows were doubled +to keep out the noises of Holborn; there were exterior sun blinds to +exclude the fugitive rays of pale sunlight which occasionally bathed +the City; and long velvet curtains, in harmony with the carpet, to +shut out the horrid world that roared and palpitated outside Mr. +Gwyn’s exquisite chamber. In this room was a faint aroma of roses--he +was partial to the more expensive varieties of perfume, and had a +standing order with the best of the Grasse houses. + +He was a fair man with an unblemished skin and a small yellow +moustache; a credit to his hosier and shirtmaker. His wasp-waisted +morning coat fitted him without the suspicion of a wrinkle; his gray +waistcoat, the severe dark trousers with the thinnest of white +stripes, the patent shoes, the exact cravat, were all parts of a +sartorial symmetry. + +Mr. Gwyn seldom appeared in the courts. His head clerk, a gray-haired +man of fifty, who was generally supposed by Mr. Gwyn’s brother +solicitors to be the brains of the business, prepared most of the +briefs, interviewed the majority of clients, leaving to his employer +the most important. + +On a bright morning in the early days of September, Mr. Gwyn’s big +Rolls glided noiselessly to the sidewalk, the youthful footman seated +by the side of the driver sprang out and opened the door, and Arthur +Gwyn stepped daintily forth. There was a small white rose in his +buttonhole, and the passer-by who saw him, noting the perfect shine of +his silk hat, the glitter of his patent shoes, and the ebony stick +that he carried in his gloved hand, thought he was a bridegroom +stopping on his way to church. + +He entered the tiny electric lift and was whisked up to the first +floor. A porter opened his door with a little bow and Arthur walked +in, followed by the servitor, who took his hat, gloves, and cane, and +disappeared with them to an inner room. Mr. Gwyn sat down at his desk, +glanced at the letters that had been left opened for his inspection +and pushed them aside. He pressed an onyx bell-push twice, and in a +few seconds his hard-faced managing clerk came in, carrying a wad of +papers in his hand. + +“Close the door, Gilder. What are these?” + +Gilder threw the papers on the polished table. + +“Mostly writs,” he said curtly. + +“For me?” + +Gilder nodded and Arthur Gwyn turned over the papers idly. + +“There is going to be trouble if they give judgment against you for +some of these,” said Gilder. “Up to now, I’ve managed to keep them out +of court, but there are at least three of these which must be paid. I +haven’t had a chance to speak to you since I came back from my +holidays. Did you lose much at Goodwood?” + +“Eight or nine thousand,” said Arthur Gwyn lightly. “It may have been +more or less.” + +“That means you don’t know because you haven’t paid,” said Gilder +bluntly. + +“I paid a few--the more pressing,” the other hastened to assure him. +“What are these?” + +He fingered the writs again with his beautifully manicured hand. + +“One of them is very serious indeed,” said Gilder, picking it out from +the rest. “The trustees of the Wellman estate are suing you for three +thousand pounds--the loan you had from Wellman.” + +“Can’t you fix them?” + +Gilder shook his head. + +“I can’t fix trustees--you know that. This is going to look ugly if it +comes into court.” + +Arthur Gwyn shrugged his shoulders. + +“There is nothing ugly about a loan----” + +“You were Wellman’s lawyer,” interrupted Gilder. “And he was not +capable of managing his affairs. I tell you that will look ugly, and +the Law Society will be asking questions. You’ll have to raise money +to settle this case out of court.” + +“What are the others?” asked Arthur Gwyn sulkily. + +“There’s one for twelve hundred pounds, furniture supplied to Willow +House, and another from the vendor of Willow House for balance of +purchase money unpaid.” + +Arthur Gwyn leaned back in his chair, took out a gold toothpick and +chewed it. + +“What is the full amount?” + +“About six thousand pounds,” said Gilder, gathering up the writs. +“Can’t you raise it?” + +His employer shook his head. + +“A bill?” + +“Who is going to back it?” asked the lawyer, looking up. + +Gilder scratched his chin. + +“What about Lord Chelford?” he asked. + + + + + VII + +Arthur Gwyn laughed softly. + +“And what do you imagine Chelford would say if I went to him with such +a proposal? You seem to forget, my dear fellow, that to Chelford I am +the brother of a young lady who on her twenty-fifth birthday inherits +the greater part of a million pounds. I’m not only the brother, but I +am her trustee. Besides which, I am managing his mother’s estate. What +would he think if I tried? Chelford’s a fool, but he’s not such a fool +as that, and I would remind you that all his business affairs are in +the hands of the Second Son.” + +“You mean Alford--why do you call him that?” + +“He’s always been known as the Second Son since he was a child,” said +the other impatiently. “He is a shrewd devil, never forget that, +Gilder. I don’t know whether or not he suspects that I’m a fake, and +that Leslie’s fortune is a myth, but there have been times when he has +asked some deucedly uncomfortable questions.” + +“Is the fortune a myth?” asked Gilder, and his companion looked at him +slyly. + +“You ought to know, my friend,” he said. “We have been living on it +for eight years! The croupiers of Monte Carlo have raked into their +treasury quite a lot of it--various bookmakers I could mention have +built handsome villas out of it. A myth? It wasn’t a myth ten years +ago. It was two hundred thousand pounds short of a myth! But +to-day----” + +He spread out his hands and eyed the writs with a whimsical smile. + +“What do you expect to get from Chelford?” asked Gilder. “He has no +money.” + +Mr. Gwyn chuckled. + +“You may be sure that before I went to the expense and trouble of +buying--or nearly buying--a house adjoining Chelford’s place, and +before I took the trouble to bring Leslie and him into touch, I took +the elementary precaution of sizing up his position. He is +comparatively poor, because that brother of his will sell none of the +estates. He has the family obsession--their motto is ‘Hold Fast.’ +Harry Chelford is realizable at a quarter of a million--apart from the +buried treasure.” + +They both laughed at this. + +“You’ve been lucky up to a point,” said Gilder seriously. “It was luck +to inherit his legal business----” + +A clerk came in with some letters to sign at this moment, and, after +he was gone: + +“Does your sister still think she is an heiress?” asked Gilder. + +“She has that illusion,” replied the other coolly. “Of course she +thinks so! You don’t imagine Leslie would lend herself to that kind of +ramp, do you?” + +He took a pen from the silver tray before him, dipped it into the ink, +and, drawing a sheet of paper toward him, scribbled down the figures. + +“Six thousand pounds is a lot of money,” he said. “I lost three times +that amount when Black Satin was beaten a short head in the Drayton +Handicap. The only thing to do is to rush the wedding.” + +“What about the Yorkshire property?” suggested the managing clerk. + +Arthur Gwyn made a little grimace. + +“I put a man in to buy it. I could have made twenty thousand profit on +that. There’s coal in abundance; that I have proved. But the Second +Son was on the job, damn him!” + +There was a long silence. + +“What are you going to do?” asked Gilder. + +“I don’t know. I’m at my wits’ end.” Arthur Gwyn threw down the pen. +“The position is exquisite torture to a man of my sensibility. Can’t +you suggest anything?” + +“Give me five minutes,” said Gilder, and went out. + +As Gilder was making his way to his own office, a clerk handed him a +letter. It was addressed to him personally, in an illiterate hand. +Behind the door of his office bureau, he opened the envelope. + +The letter began without any preliminary: + + + His lordship is still working on the treasure. He had an old book sent + to him from Germany last Tuesday, written by a German who was in this + country hundreds of years ago. I cannot read the title because of the + funny printing, which is like old English. His lordship has also had a + plan sent to him from a London bookseller of Fossaway Manor. His + lordship’s brother, Mr. Alford, has sold Red Farm to Mr. Leonard for + £3,500 [here Mr. Gilder smiled]. Miss Gwyn came to tea yesterday with + his lordship and Mr. Alford, and afterward Miss Gwyn and his lordship + went for a walk in the home park. There is some talk about the Black + Abbot having been seen near the old abbey. He was seen by Thomas + Elwin, the half-witted son of Elwin, his lordship’s cowman, but nobody + takes any notice of this. He has now been seen by Mr. Cartwright, the + grocer. His lordship has had an offer for his Yorkshire estate, but I + heard Mr. Alford advise him not to sell as he was sure there was coal + on it. + + +Gilder nodded, understanding just how his employer’s plan had fallen +through. + + + … When I was taking tea into the library I heard his lordship say that + he wanted the wedding to take place in October, but Miss Gwyn said she + would like it after Christmas. His lordship said that he didn’t mind + because he was so busy. Mr. Alford said he thought that the marriage + settlement should be fixed by Sampson & Howard, who were the old Lord + Chelford’s solicitors, but his lordship said that he thought the + settlement had better be in Mr. Gwyn’s hands. I did not hear any more + because Mr. Alford told me to get out. Miss Wenner, who used to be his + lordship’s secretary, came down from London yesterday, but Mr. Alford + has given orders that she is not to be admitted. His lordship did not + see her.… + + +Mr. Fabrian Gilder’s spy reported other minor matters which were less +interesting. He read the letter again, put it in his pocket, and was +busy at his desk for five minutes. + +He came back to find his employer leaning over his desk, his head +between his hands, and laid a slip of paper before him. + +“What is this?” asked Gwyn, startled. + +“A six-months’ bill for seven thousand pounds. I’ve put an extra +thousand in for luck,” said Gilder coolly. + +Gwyn read the document quickly. It was a bill, and required only his +signature and that of Harry, Earl of Chelford, to make it convertible +into solid cash. + +“I dare not do it--I simply dare not do it!” + +“Why tell him it’s a bill at all?” asked Gilder. “You can get him by +himself, spin a yarn--you have a fertile imagination--but I suggest to +you that you tell him you need his signature to release some of your +sister’s property and once his name is on the back of the bill----” + +Arthur Gwyn looked up sharply. Was it a coincidence that this excuse +should be suggested? There was nothing in the head clerk’s face to +suggest otherwise. + +“But when it comes due?” he asked irresolutely, as he turned the +document over and over in his hands. + +“In six months’ time he’ll be married, and if things aren’t better +with you, he’ll either have to meet the bill or hush the matter up.” + +The eyes of the two men met. + +“You’re on the edge of ruin, my young friend,” said Gilder, “and I’m +rather concerned. If you go down, my livelihood disappears.” + +How true this was, Arthur learnt one bitter day. + +“You make a deuced sight more out of it than I do,” he grumbled as he +wrote the name of a bank across the face of the bill. + +“I spend less than you, and when I get money I know how to keep it.” + +“You might even raise the sum yourself,” said his employer, with a +feeble attempt at jocularity. + +“I might,” said Gilder grimly, “but, as I said before, I know how to +take care of my own, and lending money to you is not my notion of a +good investment.” + +He had been out of the room only a few minutes when he came back, and +closing the door carefully behind him: + +“Do you know a Miss Wenner?” he asked. + +Mr. Gwyn frowned. + +“Yes. What does she want?” + +“She says she must see you on an urgent personal matter. Is she one of +your--friends?” + +Arthur shook his head. + +“N-no--I have met her. She was Chelford’s secretary. Can’t you find +out what she wants?” + +“I’ve tried, but it is a matter personal to you. Do you want to see +her?--I can easily stall her.” + +Arthur thought for a while. She might have something important to tell +him. + +“Ask her to come in,” he said. + +A few minutes later Mary Wenner came into the room and greeted him +with a familiar nod. + +“Well, my dear, this is an unexpected pleasure. You are getting +prettier every time I see you.” + +She accepted the flattery as her right, and sat on the edge of his +desk. + +“I’ve been down to Fossaway, Arthur,” she said. + +“Silly girl,” he smiled. “But I thought that affair was all over and +done with. You’ve got to be good, Mary. Chelford is going to marry my +sister.” + +“Isn’t that grand! And I’m not surprised. I saw you working when I was +at Fossaway.” + +She slipped down from the desk and dropped both her hands on his +shoulders. + +“Arthur, I’m tired of stenogging! And I want like sin to get back on +that cold-blooded hound Dick Alford. I’ve been fired out once for +proposing to a man--I’m going to take a second chance. We’ve been good +pals, Arthur.” + +He murmured something in his alarm. + +“Listen--don’t turn down a good thing. You can marry me and I’ll bring +you a bigger dowry than your sister will take to Harry Chelford.” + +He stared at her. + +“You?… Dowry?” he stammered. + +She nodded slowly. + +“Marry me, and I’ll take you to the place where you can lay your hands +on fifteen tons of Spanish gold--the Chelford treasure! Two and a half +million pounds!” + + + + + VIII + +Fifteen tons of gold! Two and a half millions sterling! + +Arthur Gwyn stared at the girl incredulously. But she was making no +idle statement, and that she at least believed what she said was clear +from her flushed face and shining eyes. For a second he was +speechless. + +“Fifteen tons of gold?” He frowned and smiled at the same time. +“You’re mad, Mary!” + +“Mad, am I?” She nodded vigorously. “Oh, indeed, I daresay you think +so, but you won’t be thinking that very long! I have found the +Chelford treasure, I tell you.” + +He sat down heavily in his chair, his startled eyes still fixed upon +hers. He was for the moment inarticulate. + +“Rubbish!” he managed to say at last. “There is no Chelford treasure! +Living so long in the same house with Harry Chelford has made you as +mad as he!” + +She walked slowly to the desk, and, with her palms on the ledge, leant +down over him. + +“You think that, do you?” she asked in a steady voice. “I was three +years Lord Chelford’s secretary, and it’s true I had this treasure +stuff dinned into me from morning till night. The sight of a +black-lettered book makes me ill even now, and the plans of Fossaway +Manor that I’ve studied--well, I don’t like to think of them! I’ve +lived with this treasure for three years, Arthur, and there have been +times when I could have screamed when it was mentioned. I got so that +I came to like Dick Alford, just because he never spoke to me about +it. And then one day there came a bundle of plans from London--Harry +had a standing order with an old bookseller to send him anything he +could find about Chelfordbury or Fossaway Manor. Harry had gone up to +town that morning and I had no other work to do, so I went through +these dusty old sheets to index them. And on the third sheet I found +something that made me open my eyes.” + +“What was it?” asked Arthur carelessly. + +She looked at him with a quiet smile. + +“A lot has to happen before I tell you that,” she said. “Arthur, if I +give you this, or your share of this, will you marry me?” + +Arthur looked at her steadily. + +“If you can put me next to a million, or half a million,” he said +slowly, “I would marry you if you were the plainest woman on the face +of the earth! Instead of being the bonniest, prettiest little +angel----” + +“You can keep that stuff for later,” she said practically. + +She opened her handbag and took out a paper, and he watched with +fascinated interest. If he expected the secret of the Chelford +treasure to be laid before him in writing, he was to be disappointed. + +“I’m not much of a lawyer,” said Mary, as she smoothed out the paper +and laid it on his blotting-pad, “but I think this is binding on both +sides.” + +He took up the paper with a wry face and read it. + + + In consideration of receiving one half of the Chelford treasure, I, + Arthur Gwyn, of Willow House, Chelfordbury, Sussex, agree to bind + myself to Mary Agnes Wenner in the holy bonds of matrimony within one + month of the treasure being found and divided. + + +“Is that in order?” she asked, watching his face. + +He put the paper down. + +“My dear girl----” he began, in his suavest manner. + +“Listen, Arthur.” She perched herself on the edge of the desk. “This +is the time for ‘yes’s’ and ‘no’s,’ for ‘I will’s’ and ‘I won’t’s’! +I’m not in love with you and you’re not in love with me. But I want a +home and a position. I may not be a lady, but I am ladylike, and I +have lived long enough with swagger people to make no mistakes. Is it +yes or is it no?” + +Arthur looked at the paper again. + +“Does it strike you,” he said, “that the Chelford treasure is not +yours or mine to divide? That it belongs to Harry Chelford, his heirs +and his successors?” + +“It is treasure trove,” she said startlingly. “I know the law of the +country, because I’ve talked this thing over with Harry times without +number. Treasure found hidden after hundreds of years has to be +divided between the State and the finder.” + +He shook his head with a smile. + +“Our Mary is a lawyer!” he bantered. “You’re wrong, my dear. That is +only the case if the owner of the money cannot be found. In the +present instance there is no doubt whatever that the treasure would +belong to Chelford.” + +He saw her face fall and went on: + +“I don’t know that that is going to seriously inconvenience us,” he +said, looking her straight in the eyes. “You cannot lose what you +never had, eh?” + +She drew a deep sigh of relief. + +“It is Harry’s, I suppose, but after the way he has treated me, and +all that I’ve done for him----” + +“Yes, yes,” he said soothingly. “We needn’t worry about Harry. The +only question is, have you found the treasure?” + +She nodded. + +“You’ve actually seen it?” + +“No,” she hesitated, “I haven’t seen it. I hadn’t time. But I saw the +boxes through the grating. The door was locked, and I was so excited +that I had to come out and walk around. And then Dick Alford saw me.” + +Arthur was puzzled. He knew this girl well enough; they had been good +friends in the days when she was Chelford’s secretary, and she had +been a most useful agent of his. + +“Now, let’s get down to brass tacks,” he said brusquely. “Where did +you see this treasure and when?” + +“I’ll tell you when. I saw it two days ago,” she said, to his +surprise, for he had thought she was talking about some experience she +had had when she was an inmate of Fossaway Manor. + +“Two days ago?” he gasped. + +“Two days ago,” she affirmed. “And as to where, well, there’s another +matter to be settled before we get as far as that, Arthur. Will you +sign that agreement?” + +He looked at the paper again. His training in the law, his natural +instincts against putting his name under any document which bound him, +urged him to temporize. + +“It is yes or no,” she said, as though she read his mind. “I’m not +going to fool around with you unless you mean business. I’ll take it +to Harry, and maybe, if I put him in possession of this gold, he’ll do +the right thing by me.” + +And, seeing that he made no move, she took up the paper, folded it +determinedly, and put it in her little satchel. + +“What’s the hurry?” he said, in alarm. “Mary, you’re mad to expect me +to take a big decision like this without giving the matter a moment’s +thought. Don’t you realize what you’re asking me to do? You’re +proposing an act of sheer robbery and you’re asking me to become an +accomplice. After all----” He shrugged his shoulders. + +“If your conscience is hurting you,” she said, “we’ll leave it. I’m +not the sort of girl who’d throw herself at any man’s head. I’ll take +it along to Harry and see if his conscience is busy.” + +She turned to go, but before she reached the door he had intercepted +her. + +“Don’t be silly and don’t be unreasonable.” He was more than a little +agitated. “It’s a big thing you’re asking----” + +“It’s a big thing I’m giving,” she said impatiently. “Two million and +a half pounds--there’s nothing mean about that.” + +He took her by the arm and forcibly drew her back. + +“Sit down and don’t be a fool,” he said. “I’ve told you already I’ll +marry you to-morrow, and I’ll go farther and say that there never was +a time when money was sweeter to me than it is at the moment.” + +“Will you sign that note?” + +He skimmed it through quickly, making sure that he was under no +obligation if the treasure did not materialize, and, picking up a pen, +he made a little correction, she watching suspiciously, and signed +with a flourish. + +“What is that you’ve put into the paper?” she demanded. + +“An exit for Arthur Gwyn,” he said with a whimsical smile. “The +document reads ‘In consideration of receiving on behalf of my client +Lord Chelford,’ etcetera, etcetera.” + +At first she did not understand, and then a slow smile dawned on her +face. + +“I see,” she nodded. “That means that if anything comes out, you’re +acting for him and not for yourself. Arthur, there are times when I +think you’re clever!” + +Arthur Gwyn smiled as he put his arm about her and led her to the +window. Below, thick streams of road traffic were passing east and +west. A great lorry was under his eyes; he saw an inscription on its +side, “5 tons.” It would require three such lorries to move the +Chelford treasure, he thought, and for a moment his head reeled. + +“I’ll tell you how clever I am when I handle the first bar of the +Chelford treasure. And you’ll know how clever you are when I’ve dealt +with the last. There’s two millions in this. Now, tell me, where is +this gold?” + +She looked at him for a second, and then, lowering her voice: + +“In the vaults of Chelford Abbey,” she said. + +For a second neither spoke, and then: + +“Will you see your sister, Mr. Gwyn? She has just arrived.” + +Arthur Gwyn spun round, an oath on his lips. Gilder had come +noiselessly into the room, his inscrutable eyes fixed upon his +employer. Not a muscle of his face betrayed whether or not he had +overheard the last words. + + + + + IX + +Leslie Gwyn’s occupations at Willow House were well defined. Though +her brother did not maintain a very expensive or elaborate +establishment, he lived in a style consonant with the position he held +in the county. There were little dinner parties, an occasional dance, +and in the winter, Arthur, who was a good man to hounds and was +ambitious to be master of the local pack, entertained on a lavish +scale the more prominent members of the hunt. In these amenities +Leslie acted as hostess for her brother, and at all times was the real +housekeeper of the establishment. For all his extravagance he was a +careful and grudging house master, required that the necessities of +life should be bought in the cheapest markets, that the best at the +lowest price should be found upon his table. + +The resolve to go to town that morning had been born of a sudden +impulse. The day was her own and she could do as she liked with it. +For some reason the idea of lunching alone did not appeal to her. She +had a wild thought of going on to Fossaway Manor, but remembered that +Wednesday was a day that Dick Alford gave up entirely to visiting his +tenant farmers. She did not attempt to explain to herself why the +prospect of lunching tête-à-tête with her fiancé was even more +distasteful than lunching alone. She had got beyond the point of +finding excuses for herself; she felt a certain recklessness; was +conscious that her manner and attitude of mind were defiant. Against +what and whom? + +With a lift of her pretty shoulders she shrugged the matter out of +consideration. All that she knew was that the preoccupation of Dick +Alford and the unlikelihood of seeing him, made a visit to Fossaway +Manor not only undesirable but out of the question. + +She would go to town: the decision was taken in an instant, and she +went upstairs and dressed hurriedly, whilst the gardener wheeled her +little two-seater to the drive before the house. Five minutes later +she was spinning along the straight road toward the railway station. +She had plenty of time; indeed, there was a certainty that she would +arrive at the rail at least half-an-hour before the train left, even +if it pulled out on time. + +As she entered Fontwell Cutting she thought she saw a familiar form +crossing the field toward the road a quarter of a mile away, and her +heart jumped for no known reason. The high walls of the cut road shut +out her view, but when she emerged and slid down the steep little hill +to the village road, she discovered that she had not been mistaken, +and brought her car to a halt as Dick Alford opened a field gate and +came out. + +He greeted her with a wave of his hand and a smile, and, to her +consternation, would have passed on had she not called him back. + +“You are very jumpy and cross this morning,” she said, and to her +surprise he admitted that fault, though she had seen nothing in his +manner to deserve the challenge she had made. + +“I am very annoyed indeed. If there is one thing I don’t want to see, +it is our good farms turned into little residential estates for the +City gentry! I sold Red Farm to Mr. Leonard last week, under the +impression that the old”--he checked a naughty word--“gentleman wanted +to extend his holding, though why on earth he should want to buy Red +Farm, which is the poorest land around here, I couldn’t guess.” + +“And what has he done?” + +Dick was indeed very much annoyed, she noticed now, and was secretly +amused. She had a woman’s satisfaction in seeing the man she liked +thrown momentarily off his balance and revealing himself in a light +that was new to her. + +“And what has the old--gentleman done?” she mocked him. + +“He has resold the farm to a wretched man in London--though the +purchaser is not aware that such a sale is invalid without my +signature.” + +“A stranger?” she asked. + +“Yes; though he has been living in the neighbourhood all summer. He +has a cottage somewhere about here.” + +“On the Ravensrill?” she asked, in surprise. + +“That is the fellow,” he nodded. “I’ve never seen him, but I +understood he was only staying here for a few months. And now I find +that the beggar’s bought Red Farm and intends putting up something in +stucco with bow windows! And I daresay he will dig an artificial pond, +start a rosary, and turn God’s productive acres into a forcing house +for sickly flowers!” + +“Why shouldn’t he?” she asked coolly, and he stared at her. “After +all, you said this was the poorest land round here, and if it cannot +be useful it may as well be beautiful. I rather like artificial ponds +and rosaries.” + +In spite of his annoyance he laughed. + +“Then probably you’ll go to Mr. Gilder’s house-warming,” he said. + +She started. + +“Who?” she asked. + +“Mr. Gilder. He’s something in the City--probably a deuce of a swell +in his own way, but I wish he’d gone somewhere else. And as to +Leonard, I’ve already told him that I shall not go to his funeral.” + +“Dick, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!” she said indignantly. +“Poor old man!” Then, in a different voice: “You don’t know his +Christian name?” + +“Whose--Leonard’s?” + +“Don’t be stupid--Mr. Gilder’s.” + +Dick frowned. + +“Fabrian,” he said at last. “What a name! It sounds like a secret +society!” + +She wondered if Arthur knew of this enterprise of his clerk: it was +hardly likely that Mr. Gilder would buy property in the neighbourhood +without consulting his chief. For the moment she deemed it prudent to +turn the subject. + +“If you were nice and kind and brotherly,” she said, “you would come +along with me to the station and garage my car like a nice man.” + +He stood irresolutely, and for a moment she went hot at the implied +rebuff. And then: + +“I’m wasting my master’s time,” he said, “but there are occasions when +pleasure must interfere with duty, and this is one of them. Do you +mind if I drive? I have no faith in women drivers.” + +“You are very rude,” she said, but nevertheless moved aside to let him +take the wheel. + +“How is Harry this morning?” + +“Fine,” he said sardonically. And then, heartily ashamed of himself: +“Harry is trying a new patent medicine. You’ve never been in his +bedroom? That is an indelicate question to ask, but have you?” + +She shook her head, the hint of laughter in her eyes. + +“There are about eight hundred and forty-five varieties of patent +medicines in Harry’s bedroom,” he said grimly. “Once every three +months we have a spring-cleaning and chuck ’em out! Really, there +isn’t very much wrong with Harry, and if he did not read patent +medicine advertisements he would be a happier man. Just now he’s +trying something for his nerves, and if there’s anything left in the +bottle at the end of the week I shall take it myself.” + +“Poor Harry!” she said softly. + +“Yes, I’m a brute to grouse,” he said, almost gruffly, and seemed to +imply in some subtle fashion that she was a provocative party to his +brutality. + +It occurred to her as strange that he never spoke about the time when +she would be mistress of Fossaway Manor. It would have been natural in +him to say, “When you’re married I hope you’ll cure Harry of that +nonsense,” but he had made no such reference. That was the strange +thing about Dick, that he never even suggested or hinted of a coming +time when she would be Countess of Chelford. In one way she was glad +he did not--especially now. + +They wound slowly through the leafy lanes, passed a little wood, all +olive, russet, and purple with the decay of autumn, and came to the +station ten minutes ahead of time. + +“You have had no further visit from your Black Abbot?” she asked, as +they strolled on to the station platform. + +He shook his head. + +“No; the police came last night to make inquiries. I don’t suppose it +will go much farther. You read about it in the newspaper, of course?” + +She shook her head. + +“Servants talk,” she said. + +“I really don’t believe in this Black Abbot,” he went on. “It is queer +that Harry is scared of this spook. He never goes outside the house +when the old Abbot is reported in the neighbourhood.” + +“You don’t believe either?” + +He pursed his lips. + +“When I see a ghost I shall believe it. Until then I am politely +sceptical.” + +As the train drew out of the station she put her head out of the +window and looked back. He was standing stock still upon the platform +where she had left him; and although she could not see his face, she +felt that he was gazing after her, and thought she detected a certain +tenseness in his very attitude--all of which was very pleasing to Miss +Leslie Gwyn. + + + + + X + +Strange as it may seem, she had never visited her brother’s office +on High Holborn before she left her taxi at the door and came up in +the elevator to his magnificent suite. Her appearance had a prosaic +cause. She had left the country without a penny: a fact she did not +realize till the ticket collector, working through the train, came +into her compartment and aroused her from a daydream to the +realization that she had neither ticket nor money to pay for it. She +gave the man her card, and a taxi brought her to Holborn. + +She was to have another novel experience. A tall, thick-set man, with +iron-gray hair and a strong, attractive face, had come into the +waiting room to meet her. She remembered him as the solitary fisherman +who had sat fishing for hours on the bank of Ravensrill, without, +apparently, catching anything. So this was the redoubtable Mr. Gilder +of whom Arthur had so often spoken. She was not especially curious +about him. He was a head clerk, and, by Arthur’s account, a clever man +at his work; but now that she saw him, she was impressed. He was +distinctive--outside of type. The average of humanity you may pass in +the street without noticing. It would have been impossible to see +Fabrian Gilder once without recognizing him instantly after the +passage of years. The jaw was almost square, his big mouth was so +tightly drawn that he seemed to be lipless; a powerful nose, a pair of +penetrating gray eyes, under straggly, uneven eyebrows; this, and the +breadth of his shoulders, conveyed an imponderable expression of +power. + +“You are Miss Gwyn, of course?” he said. “I would have recognized your +relationship with your brother even if I had not known your name.” + +It was a little shock to Leslie that she in any way resembled Arthur, +for Arthur’s good looks were of a variety which she neither envied nor +admired. + +“He is engaged at the moment. If you’ll sit down I’ll go along and +tell him.” + +His eyes did not leave her face. She had often seen in stories the +word “devour” applied to an intensity of gaze, and she thought that +fictional characters must look somehow as Mr. Gilder was looking. He +was not staring; it was the concentration, the probing investigation +of those bright gray eyes, that made her writhe inside. If he had been +impertinent it would have been an easy matter to deal with him, but he +was respect itself. His attitude was deferential, his general manner +was friendly. He was dressed very well and carefully, she thought, and +wondered whether Arthur’s preciosity in the matter of clothing +influenced his staff. The gray homespun, the rather solid shoes, were +set off by the expensiveness of his linen. With a woman’s eye she saw +that in his way this man was something of a dandy too. + +“I hear you are going to live near us, Mr. Gilder?” she said, and he +was obviously taken aback. + +“Why--yes,” he said awkwardly. “I’ve bought a little place near your +house. I love that part of the country.” + +“We shall be neighbours,” she said with a smile, but felt no pleasure +in the prospect. + +“Er--yes. I suppose we shall be, Miss Gwyn,” he agreed. + +“It will be very nice for Arthur. I suppose it was his suggestion that +you should come down?” + +He had a nervous little trick of stroking an invisible moustache, for +he was clean-shaven. + +“Well… no,” he said. “I haven’t told Mr. Gwyn yet that I have bought +the property. I thought another time would be more opportune. I bought +it for a song--thirty-five hundred pounds.” + +She looked up quickly. + +“That is an expensive song,” she said, before she realized an error of +taste. + +This time he was visibly disconcerted. + +“Yes; I--er, I borrowed the money,” he said. + +She had a feeling that he was going to ask her a favour, and guessed +what the favour would be: Leslie had the uncanny gift of reading +people’s minds and gathering their surface thoughts, and in those +moments when Fabrian Gilder dropped his mask he was rather easy. He +opened his lips to speak, thought better of it, meeting, perhaps, the +chill atmosphere of a refusal before it was given, and then: + +“I’ll see if your brother is disengaged,” he said, and went into the +room to Arthur Gwyn, his head reeling with the vision which had +emerged through the gray fog of his drab life. + +Day after day he had watched her, and she had never known. He had left +his rod and line to steal behind trees that he might see her pass. She +was romance in excelsis--the perfect realization of thirty years of +dreaming. + +It took him a second to compose himself before he turned the handle +and walked in, and then he stood stricken dumb by the words that came +to him. + + + + + XI + +“My sister?” said Arthur quickly. He looked from Gilder to Mary +Wenner. “Come and see me later,” he said in a lower voice. “Gilder, +show Miss Wenner out through the side door.” + +Gilder opened the private door and followed the girl into the +corridor. + +“Where are you living?” he asked. + +There was such a note of authority in his voice that for the moment +the girl was taken off her guard. + +“57 Cranston Mansions. Why?” she asked, with a certain archness that +indicated resentment but invited a further offence. + +“Because I want to see you,” said Gilder. “Can I come round to your +flat some evening?” + +Miss Wenner was shocked a little at this. There were moments when her +sense of propriety was easily outraged. She was curious too; so far +from resenting his commanding address, she rather liked it. + +“Yes, any evening you wish, if you will let me know that you are +coming. I will ask a young lady friend to keep me company.” + +Gilder’s hard lips curled. + +“Unless you particularly want a chaperon, don’t get one,” he said. “I +have much to say to you that I don’t want anybody else to hear.” + +He accompanied her to the elevator and on the way extracted a promise +to receive him alone. Miss Wenner was almost as curious to know the +object of that visit as Mr. Gilder was to discover what was behind the +amazing statement he had heard. He passed the closed door of Arthur’s +room and heard voices. He would have given a lot for an excuse to +interrupt brother and sister, but something told him that it would be +wiser if he kept out of his employer’s way until he was absolutely +certain that the girl had not betrayed the very carefully hidden +transaction which had made him the proprietor of Red Farm. + + * * * + +“You’re a little goose to come up to town without money,” said Arthur, +as he skinned three notes from his pocketbook. “Here is enough to keep +you happy for the rest of your life.” + +“Would fifteen pounds do that?” she laughed, and was going, when she +remembered.… + +Arthur listened in amazement to the news she had to give. + +“Gilder has bought a house at Chelfordbury? Impossible!” he said. “He +would have told me. Why the dickens does he want a house?--besides, he +has no money.” + +“Hasn’t he?” she asked, in surprise. + +Arthur scratched his chin irritably. + +“I suppose the beggar has; but a house at Chelfordbury--that is +extraordinary! I wasn’t even aware that he knew the place.” + +“He is the man who has been staying at Ravensrill Cottage all the +summer,” she said. + +“The fisherman!” He whistled. “What a close bird he is! Of course,” he +went on quickly, “there is nothing wrong in a man wanting to live at +Chelfordbury, and there’s no reason in life why he shouldn’t buy a +house. But what a sly old fox!” + +He was troubled; she saw that he was trying to hide it behind a +flippancy that was transparent to her. + +“I knew, of course, that somebody had rented the fisherman’s cottage, +as they call it, and to think that he’s been down all these months and +never once given himself away!” + +“He has a car, if he’s the same man who was living at the cottage,” +she nodded. “Dick Alford is furious!” + +Arthur chuckled. + +“Poor old Dick!” he said good-humouredly. “He loathes this residential +idea, and when I put forward a scheme to cut up one of his northern +estates into residential properties, he nearly bit my head off. Harry +would have done it like a shot, and I hope, my dear, when you’re +married you’ll persuade him…” + +He waited expectantly. + +“Yes--when I am married,” she said, and her tone made him glance at +her keenly. But he was wise enough to skim over that subject. + +“Dick, of course, is a fool,” he said, with good-natured contempt. “He +has a blind faith in the future of agriculture in this country, and +grudges every acre that’s taken out of cultivation. And yet, if you +were to put up a scheme to build huge blocks of cottages to relieve +the slum congestion, or something equally quixotic and unprofitable, +he would jump at the idea. I can well understand that the mere thought +of a successful lawyer’s clerk setting himself up as a country +gentleman would make Dick foam at the mouth!” + +“He wasn’t foaming when I left him,” she said drily. + +“When you left him?” He was quick to take a point. + +“Yes, he came down to the station with me.” And she could not account +for her momentary feeling of embarrassment. + +He was still searching her face, and then, laying his hands on her +shoulders, he shook her gently. + +“Old girl,” he said, “keep your mind off the Second Son! He’s a +good-looking fellow, and side by side with his brother there’s no +question of choice! But he’s a second son, which means that he’s next +door to being broke. And you can’t live on good looks or----” + +She raised her eyes slowly to his. + +“What do you mean--I can’t live on good looks?” she said deliberately. +“Why do you emphasize the fact that Dick Alford is poor? Amn’t I an +heiress?” + +He did not speak, and then, with a little laugh, dropped his hands. + +“Why, of course, chick!” he said lightly. “Only--well, I want you to +do something for yourself. Make a name in the country. It will be +something to have the position which Harry can offer you. Dick is +quite a good fellow--one of the best, although he doesn’t get on very +well with me. But there’s nothing to it with him, Leslie. You might as +well marry some poverty-stricken gentleman farmer----” + +He stopped under the steady gaze that met him. + +“‘Poverty-stricken’ again, Arthur--without suggesting that I would +rather marry Dick Alford, I wonder why the question of his poverty +interests you so much. If you had called him a commoner and a nobody, +I could have understood, but you insist upon the question of my +possible fiancé’s wealth, and that seems strange to me.” + +He laughed long and loudly, but his merriment seemed, to her sensitive +ear, lacking in sincerity. + +“You ought to be a lawyer, Leslie! Upon my word, I’ve a good mind to +have you coached for an examination! You’d look simply topping in a +wig and gown! And now, my little girl, you must run away, because I’ve +a tremendous lot of work.” + +He put his arm round her shoulders and walked with her to the door, +and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the whine of the elevator +carrying her down. Closing the door behind him, he rang the bell, and, +to the clerk who came: + +“Ask Mr. Gilder to come in, will you, please?” + + + + + XII + +When Gilder had this message he knew that the girl had told her +brother; and although he had his fair share of moral courage, it +needed a conscious effort on his part to answer the summons. + +“Gilder, what is this story of you buying Red Farm?” asked Arthur +sharply. + +“Why should I not buy Red Farm?” replied Gilder coolly. + +“There is no reason in the world why you shouldn’t,” said Arthur, +after a moment’s thought; “but it is rather curious you never told +me.” + +“I thought you might object,” said Gilder. “Business men hate their +workaday associates living anywhere near them. It was stupid of me not +to tell you. I’ve been living in a cottage at Chelfordbury for three +months--was that in itself objectionable? You will forgive me for +saying so, but although I have always regarded you with the respect +that is due to an employer, I have never quite looked upon you as my +feudal lord!” + +Arthur grinned for a second. + +“Once or twice I thought of coming over to see you,” Gilder went on, +“but I’ve always had what I think to be a natural reluctance to +intrude myself in a social capacity upon my chief. If you had ever +invited me to come and stay a week-end at your place I would have +come, and you would have known all about my presence in the +neighbourhood. As it was, I felt very much in the position of a +servant enjoying himself in his own independent way and feeling no +need to consult his employer as to how he should employ his spare +time--and money.” + +“And money,” repeated Arthur. “I didn’t know you were so well off, +Gilder.” + +Mr. Gilder inclined his head. + +“I have already hinted to you that I have made considerable sums. +There, again, it has never seemed necessary that I should keep you +acquainted with my bank balance.” + +“You have had a moderate salary,” said Arthur significantly. “Not a +generous amount, I agree; certainly not an amount from which a man +could save a sum sufficient to buy and rebuild Red Farm and maintain +it.” + +For answer Gilder put his hand in his pocket and, taking out a little +Russian-leather note case, laid it on the table. The name in gold +letters upon the cover was that of a bookmaker who carried one of his +employer’s biggest accounts. With this firm Arthur had lost his +largest bets, for Truman’s had offered him facilities which other +houses had denied to him. + +“Truman?” He frowned. “What has that to do with it? Have you been +backing horses?” + +Gilder shook his head. + +“No,” he said simply. “I am Truman.” + +Arthur Gwyn gaped at him. Truman! The bookmaker to whom for weeks in +succession he had been paying thousands upon thousands of pounds! + +“Then the money you have--is my money!” he gasped. + +“Your money?” said the other quietly. “If Truman’s had not taken it, +some other bookmaker would have done so. When you won you were +paid--have you any complaints?” + +“My money!” muttered Arthur. + +Gilder replaced the book in his pocket. + +“You remember five years ago complaining to me that you couldn’t find +bookmakers who would take big bets by telegram within a few minutes of +the race? That little talk gave me an idea. I knew you lost steadily, +that you were one of those--unfortunate people----” + +“Say ‘fools’--that was the word on your lips.” + +“‘Mug’ was the word,” said Mr. Gilder, with great calmness. “I knew +you were one of those people who couldn’t stop betting. So Truman’s +came into existence. Their book of rules was sent to you, featuring +the important concession that you could wire big sums of money up to +within a few minutes of a race. Do you know how much you’ve lost in +the last five years?” + +Arthur was pale with fury, but, mastering himself, shook his head. + +“You have lost sixty-three thousand pounds to Truman alone,” said the +other slowly. “And I have won it!” + +The colour came and went in Arthur Gwyn’s face. He knew all the time +that his rage and resentment were unreasonable. Hitherto Truman had +been a name on a telegraph form, an address somewhere in the West End +to which his unprofitable telegrams were sent. Who they were he +neither knew nor cared; they might have been people infinitely more +objectionable than Gilder. + +But there was a suggestion of duplicity in the man’s confession. +Arthur Gwyn felt that he had been tricked by a servant he trusted, and +he was helpless in face of sixty-three thousand facts, all of which +balanced on the side of the hard-faced man before him. + +“You are not Rathburn & Co., I suppose?” he asked, mentioning another +bookmaking firm that had drawn heavily upon his resources. + +To his amazement, Gilder nodded. + +“I am Rathburn & Company. I am also Burton & Smith. I am, in fact, the +three bookmakers to whom you have been losing money at the rate of +thirty thousand a year for the past five years. There is no sense in +looking like that, Gwyn. I have been guilty of no crime. On the few +occasions when you have won money, you have been paid. Your losses +would not have been so distasteful if they had been made to an unknown +man. I took the risk--my luck against yours. When I started, I staked +my little fortune--three thousand pounds, won through the years by +scrimping and saving. If you had been lucky, I should have been +ruined.” + +“Instead of which you were lucky--and I am ruined,” said Arthur Gwyn +huskily. He was shaken from his accustomed calm. “You are quite right, +though it is a little--bewildering.” + +He looked curiously at the inscrutable face of his managing clerk, +striving to readjust his estimate of a man whom he had looked upon as +little more than a superior servant. Then the humour of the position +struck him and he laughed. + +“If I’m not careful I shall be sorry for myself, and I should hate +that, Gilder! So you’re a rich man, eh? What are you going to do with +your money?” + +Gilder’s eyes did not leave his face. + +“I am going to settle down in the country,” he said, “and I am going +to marry.” + +“Splendid!” There was a note of irony in Arthur Gwyn’s tone. “And who +is the fortunate lady?” + +It was a long time before the other replied. He stared open-eyed at +his sometime master, and then, very deliberately and slowly: + +“It is my desire and intention to marry Miss Leslie Gwyn,” he said. + +Not a muscle of Arthur Gwyn’s face moved; his colour did not change. +But into his eyes came a glare which was malign and devilish. For a +second the imperturbable Gilder was scared. Had he gone too far? Both +men were learning something that day. Gilder had a momentary view of +something that was very ugly and menacing, and then the curtains were +drawn and the inner self of Arthur Gwyn vanished in an enigmatic +smile. + +“That is very interesting and very--enterprising of you, Gilder! +Unfortunately, I have other plans.” + +He rose leisurely from his chair, walked round the desk and confronted +the other, his hands thrust into his pockets. + +“What are you prepared to pay for the privilege of being my +brother-in-law?” he bantered. + +Fabrian Gilder took up the challenge. + +“The return of half your betting losses for the past five years,” he +said. + +Arthur shook his head. + +“Not enough,” he smiled. + +“The cancellation of four bills,” said Gilder deliberately, “drawn and +accepted by Lord Chelford, the acceptance in each case being forged by +you.” + +Arthur Gwyn staggered back to his desk, his face white and drawn, and +Gilder pursued the advantage. + +“You didn’t think it was an accident that I suggested you should get +Chelford to back a bill for you, did you? Seventy-five thousand pounds +isn’t enough for you, eh? I’ll give you this alternative: five years +in Dartmoor!” + + + + + XIII + +Leslie had spent rather a boring afternoon, and not once but many +times she regretted that she had promised to return to Arthur’s +office. He was driving her down to Willow House, and, but for this +arrangement, she would have returned to Chelfordbury by an early +train, for her shopping did not occupy more than an hour. + +She rang up her brother to suggest this plan, never doubting that he +would agree, but, to her surprise: + +“I think you’d better return with me, girl. Come along to the office +about half-past four instead of five. By the way, Gilder wants us to +go home to his flat to tea. You don’t mind, do you?” + +“Mr. Gilder?” she said, in surprise, and he went on hastily: + +“We ought to be civil to him. He’s going to be a neighbour of ours, +and he--he’s not a bad sort of fellow.” + +Her inclination was to plead a headache and be excused an experience +which, to state the matter mildly, was not wholly to her taste. But +Arthur seldom asked a favour of her, and it was apparent from his tone +that he was anxious she should show this act of civility to his head +clerk; somewhat unwillingly she agreed. + +If he detected her reluctance, he made no comment upon it and seemed +in a hurry to hang up. There was no reason in the world why the +projected call should make her uneasy, and yet, for some obscure +reason, this coming experience hung like a cloud over her for the rest +of the afternoon. This time, when she returned to the office, she +entered by Arthur’s private door. He was alone, sitting at his desk in +a familiar attitude, his head between his hands, his gloomy eyes fixed +upon the blotting-pad. She thought his face had less colour than +usual; and in his eyes there was a haggard, hunted expression which +was startling. He forced a smile to greet her, but she was not +deceived. + +“Aren’t you well, Arthur?” she asked anxiously. + +“Fit as a fiddle,” he laughed; “only I have had a pretty heavy day. I +suppose I look a little washed out.” + +He did not seem very anxious to discuss himself, but plunged straight +into the subject of the surprising call they were to make. + +“Gilder has a flat off Regent’s Park,” he said. “Be as nice to him as +you can, Leslie. He’s been a pretty useful man. By the way,” he said +awkwardly, “he is a bachelor.” + +She smiled at this; in her wildest dreams she would not have imagined +that this statement had any particular interest for herself. + +“I had no idea he was such a--that he was so prosperous,” she said. +“No, I don’t mean that bachelorhood is a sign of poverty, but his +estate at Chelfordbury and his flat in Regent’s Park are not exactly +what one would have expected.” + +“He isn’t a bad fellow,” repeated Arthur, as he rang the bell. “I +think you’ll like him: he is rather--amusing.” + +“Amusing” was not the word he would have used, in all truth, but it +was the only word he could think of at the moment. As though he were +waiting for this summons, Mr. Gilder came in answer to the bell. He +carried a light coat over his arm and a spotless gray felt hat in his +hand. Again she was uncomfortably conscious of the man’s scrutiny. + +“You know Mr. Gilder, Leslie?” + +His uneasiness and apprehension were communicating themselves to her. +Try as she did, she could not succeed in shaking off her sensation of +disquietude. The atmosphere was electric; she would have been dull +indeed if she had not responded to the strain. + +Throughout the journey Mr. Gilder talked almost without interruption. +He had a deep but pleasant voice, and was an easy conversationalist. +Arthur was beginning to know something about the man with whom he had +worked side by side all these years, and to regard him in a new light. +Hitherto, Gilder had been a cipher--a familiar figure that had +appeared from heaven knew where in the morning and had disappeared at +the end of a day’s work into the blue. As though unconscious of his +employer’s wonder and speculation, Gilder chatted on. + +Afterward, Leslie catalogued the subjects which were discussed so +one-sidedly in that drive. He talked of aviation, of wireless, of +books he had read--Dumas was his favourite--of the war, of Russia, of +Italy’s renaissance, of American writers, of the weather, polo--of +almost every subject that occupied public attention. She knew that he +was trying to impress her, and saw in this no more than the natural +desire of a man to look well in the eyes of a woman. + +The flat was bigger than she had expected, and was in one of many in +the most exclusive apartment house on the Outer Circle. Arthur viewed +its expensive appointments with a glum face. One black week of his at +Ascot must have furnished three such flats as this, he thought, and +the little devil of resentment and loathing grew stronger in his +heart. + +Tea was served by two trimly uniformed maids, and Mr. Gilder acted the +part of host to perfection. He had a library of rare old books which +she must see, and he took them to a room the walls of which were +fitted with bookshelves and reminded Leslie, though there was no +resemblance between the two apartments, of the hall wherein her +fiancé spent most of his time. + +Gilder was showing the girl a rare first edition when a surprising +thing happened. + +“Do you mind if I run out for five minutes, Leslie? I want to see a +fellow who lives on the other side of the Park.” + +Arthur Gwyn’s voice was husky, his assumption of ease a miserable +failure. The girl looked at him in astonishment, and then examined the +face of the little watch on her wrist. + +“If you want to be back at Willow House in time for dinner----” she +began. + +“I sha’n’t be more than a quarter of an hour gone,” he said +desperately. “If you don’t mind…” + +Before she could utter a word he had vanished. It was all so +unexpected, so strange, that she could not quite realize what had +happened, and the last thought in the world she could have had was +that Arthur was deliberately leaving her alone with this gray man. + +On one point her mind was made up: she did not like Mr. Gilder; and +she was fairly certain that her antipathy was shared by her brother. +His strange manner in the presence of the man, his awkwardness, and, +most convincing proof of all, his silence, puzzled her. Arthur was +intensely selfish, would not go a step out of his way either for +courtesy’s sake or to save the feelings of those whom he regarded as +his dependents. And this sudden desire to oblige his head clerk was +contradictory to her knowledge of him. Yet she felt neither alarm nor +annoyance, finding herself in that little library, alone with this +square-jawed clerk. + +As the door closed upon her brother, Fabrian Gilder carefully replaced +on the shelf the book he had been examining. + +“I shall be in my new home by the spring,” he said, “and I hope I +shall see more of you, Miss Gwyn.” + +She made a conventionally polite reply. + +“My ambition has always been to settle in the country and to follow my +two hobbies, which are fishing and reading,” he went on. “Happily, I +am in the position of being able to retire from my profession--your +brother has probably told you that I am a fairly wealthy man.” + +Something in his tone focussed her attention. Her heart beat a little +faster, and for the first time she was conscious of being alone with +him. + +“I am not an old man--fifty I regard as the prime of life--and I think +I have the capacity for making any woman happy.” + +She met his eyes steadily. + +“I hope we shall have the pleasure of meeting your wife,” she said. + +He made no reply to this, and she grew hot and cold under the scrutiny +of those merciless gray eyes. And then, before she realized what was +happening, his two big hands had closed about her arms and he was +holding her away from him, peering into her face. + +“There is one woman in the world for me,” he said, and his voice was +husky with emotion; “one face that fills my eyes day and night! +Leslie, all these months you have not been out of my sight or mind!” + +“Let me go!” she cried, struggling to free herself. + +“I want you! I’ve worked for you, I’ve schemed for you! Leslie, I love +you as you will never be loved again! I want you--I want you!” + +He was drawing her nearer and nearer, his eyes, like coals of fire, +fascinated her to a queer listlessness that was almost quiescence. She +found no reserve to combat him, and could only stare helplessly at the +hard face---- + +There was a knock at the door. He pushed her aside, his face convulsed +with rage. + +“Who is that?” he asked harshly, and the voice of the maid replied: + +“Mr. Richard Alford to see you, sir!” + + + + + XIV + +Dick Alford, waiting in the pretty drawing-room and wondering +exactly how he should introduce what promised to be a very unpleasant +discussion, saw the door flung open and a white-faced girl ran in. + +“Oh, Dick, Dick!” she sobbed. + +In a moment she was in his arms, her face against his breast. + +“For God’s sake, what has happened? How did you come here?” he asked, +bewildered. + +Before she could reply, the big figure of Fabrian Gilder filled the +doorway. The man did not speak, but the smouldering rage in his eyes +was eloquent. + +“Well, what do you want?” he boomed. + +Dick put the girl gently from him. + +“Why are you here, Leslie?” + +“Arthur brought me,” she gasped. “I’m awfully sorry to make such a +fool of myself, but----” + +Dick looked from the girl to the man in the doorway and began dimly to +understand. + +“Arthur brought you here?” he said slowly. “And left you alone--with +this man?” + +She nodded. + +“Is he a friend of yours?” + +She shook her head. + +“I only met him to-day.” + +Gradually the explanation of her distress was beginning to dawn upon +him, and a cold rage filled his heart. An unfortunate moment for +Arthur Gwyn to return. Dick heard the tinkle of a bell, quick +footsteps in the hall, and saw the white face of the lawyer, made +hideous by the smile he forced. + +“Hullo, old girl! What’s the trouble?” he asked. + +He did not look at his host: this Dick noticed with gathering fury. + +“I think you had better take Leslie home,” he said. “I have a little +business to do with Mr. Gilder.” + +Gilder had recovered something of his command of himself and his +feelings; the situation, awkward as it was, had brought him violently +into the circle about which so far he had revolved. It were better to +be considered as an undesirable suitor than to be denied consideration +as a factor at all in Leslie Gwyn’s life. + +“May I ask by what right you dispose of my guests?” he demanded, but +Dick took no notice of him. + +“Look after your sister, Gwyn,” he said, and there was a scarcely +veiled menace in the words. “I will give myself the pleasure of +calling on you this evening.” + +He took the girl’s hand in his; she was still white and shaking, but +smiled into his face. + +“I’ve made myself rather ridiculous, haven’t I?” she said, in a low +tone that only he could hear. “Dicky--perhaps I’m getting a little +jumpy, and I may have taken offence----” + +He patted her hand gently and walked with her past Gilder into the +hall, Arthur following. It was Dick who opened the door, and stood +patiently until they had gone, then he turned to face the enraged +owner of the flat. + +“I had some real business to do with you, Gilder, but that can wait. +First of all, I would like to ask, what have you said to Miss Gwyn?” + +“That is entirely my business,” said Gilder. His gaze was steady; +again he was completely master of himself, if not of the situation. + +“My business also,” said Dick, without heat. “You are aware that Miss +Gwyn is engaged to my brother?” + +Gilder licked his dry lips. + +“That doesn’t really interest me,” he said. And then, after a second’s +thought: “I’m going to be frank with you, Alford--we may as well clear +the air. I have asked Miss Gwyn to be my wife.” + +“Oh, indeed?” said Dick softly. “And what had Miss Gwyn to say to +that?” + +“You didn’t give her an opportunity of replying,” said the other, “but +I rather think that there will be no difficulty in the matter.” + +Dick did not conceal his smile. A shrewd judge of men, he had rightly +understood the situation when he had seen Arthur’s face on his return +to the flat. + +“You mean there will be no difficulty so far as Mr. Gwyn is concerned? +I admit you have an historical precedent. You are not the first lawyer +who wished to marry into his master’s family.” + +If Dick had not been angry he would not have said this; immediately +the words were out he was sorry. But Gilder took up the point quickly. + +“I am not a Uriah Heep,” he said, with a grim smile. “I am neither +humble nor lowly.” + +“I’m sorry, but really I don’t think that matters very much, Gilder. +Whatever Mr. Gwyn’s attitude may be, there will be a considerable +difficulty in respect to Miss Gwyn--and to me.” + +“To you?” Gilder’s eyebrows went up and his lips curled. “Are you the +lady’s--er----” + +“I am not engaged to Miss Gwyn, but my brother is,” said Dick evenly. +“But that is not the point. I am a friend of Leslie Gwyn’s, and even +if she changed her mind about marrying into my family, that would not +affect the issue.” + +Gilder was about to speak, but Dick went on: + +“I don’t know what pull you have with Gwyn or what dire threats you +are holding over his head.” + +He saw the man start, and laughed. + +“That went very near the mark?” he said. “But whatever influence you +have, Gilder, you are not going to marry Leslie Gwyn.” + +Gilder’s eyes narrowed. + +“Is that a threat?” he asked. + +“You can take it as a threat or as a pleasant compliment, or any old +way you choose,” said Dick, with that impish smile of his. “And now, +if you don’t mind, we’ll come to business. You’ve bought a property of +ours--Red Farm. You’ve paid thirty-five hundred pounds to Leonard. I +have come to ask you to call off your bargain and to take five hundred +profit.” + +“In other words, you want to buy it back, eh? Well, there’s nothing +doing!” said Gilder harshly. “I intend living at Red Farm, and there +isn’t a law in the land that can stop me. You may not like my +presence, but that is neither here nor there. I am not living at +Chelfordbury for the pleasure of seeing you every day of my life.” + +Dick nodded. + +“I wondered why you wanted to live there at all, but now I think I +understand,” he said. “The offer I have made to you is without +prejudice to any action I may take. Unfortunately for you, Leonard has +no power to re-transfer the property without my brother’s +consent--which means my consent, for I hold his power of attorney. +Leonard may hold the property, but you cannot. You’re a lawyer and it +is not necessary for me to explain the intricacies of a copyhold +lease, and that was all Leonard was buying. If you decide to fight the +case, I’ll take you into court, and you know that I shall get a +verdict against you. I am offering you a chance of settling the matter +amicably.” + +“Which I refuse,” said the other promptly. + +Dick inclined his head. + +“Very good. You will probably, on considering the matter in a calmer +atmosphere, take a different view.” + +He walked from the room, swinging his hat. In the doorway he turned. + +“As for Miss Leslie Gwyn, you will be well advised to reconsider that +question also.” + +“And suppose I don’t?” + +Again that unfathomable smile. + +“You are going to be sorry,” said Dick cryptically. + + + + + XV + +Not a word did Leslie say about her interview with Gilder, and her +brother seemed just as anxious to avoid the topic as she. They drove +down from town, and all the time he kept up a ceaseless flow of talk +about affairs which he thought might interest her. He was nervous, and +once, when she woke him from a reverie with a question, he started and +turned red. + +“Sorry!” he stammered. “I was thinking of something.” + +“And something unpleasant, Arthur,” she said gently. + +He was staring straight ahead of him. + +“Yes, something damnably unpleasant!” + +They were nearing Chelfordbury now, and she put the question that had +trembled on her lips throughout that long journey. + +“Arthur, do you know what Mr. Gilder asked me?” And, when he did not +reply: “He proposed to me,” she said. + +Still he avoided her eyes. + +“Did he?” he asked awkwardly. “Well, that’s an extraordinary thing for +him to do!” + +“Arthur, did you know he was going to propose to me when you left us +alone?” + +“He isn’t a bad fellow,” said Arthur Gwyn lamely. “Of course, the idea +is preposterous. But, after all, it is no sin for a fellow to fall in +love with a girl and want to marry her--I mean, one can see his point +of view.” + +Leslie was a little shocked; she was more than a little angry. But she +kept a tight rein on her tongue. + +“But, Arthur, you wouldn’t agree to that? You know I am engaged to +Harry--why, you told me that it was the dream of your life to see me +wearing a coronet! Not that I want to wear the beastly thing, but that +was what you said.” + +Ordinarily, Arthur Gwyn was possessed of a ready tongue and a nimble +wit. He had lied his way out of many an embarrassing situation with +more worldly wise people than Leslie. But, somehow, in her presence +his brain refused to function, and his witticisms were banal and +vulgar even to himself. + +“My dear little girl,” he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness, “it +really doesn’t matter to me whom you marry so long as you’re happy. +Gilder is a very solid man; he has a considerable private fortune.” + +This time she swung round on her seat and faced him. + +“Arthur, why do you insist upon the fortune? Where is my money?” + +The question came point-blank and was not to be fenced with. He roused +himself to meet a situation which had never before arisen. + +“Your money? Why, invested, of course!” + +He tried very hard, but he could not produce that convincing note +which was so necessary. + +“Your fortune is in all sorts of shares and bonds. What a queer +question to ask me, girlie!” + +“How much money have I?” she demanded ruthlessly. + +“About a quarter of a million--a little more or a little less. For +goodness’ sake don’t talk about money, my dear.” + +“But I _will_ talk about it,” she said. “Arthur, have I any at all?” + +His laughter did not carry conviction. And usually people accepted his +word. Harry Chelford had asked him only a week before in what stocks +was his late mother’s fortune invested. And Arthur had replied glibly +enough. It was the Miriam Chelford Trust that had occupied his mind +through the journey. Something must be done there. Dick Alford had +started to ask questions, and Dick had a memory like a recording +machine. As for Leslie and her tiresome questions: + +“What a silly kid you are! Of course you’ve got money! I wish to +heaven I had half your wad! You’re a very rich little girl, and you +ought to be a very happy little girl.” + +She shook her head. + +“I don’t think I have a penny,” she said, and his heart sank. + +With a tremendous effort of will he met her questioning eyes. + +“Why do you say that?” + +She shook her head. + +“I don’t know--in a way I hope I’m poor. I know I had money left me, +because you showed me the will a long time ago. But you’ve been +handling it, Arthur, and I’ve an idea that things haven’t been going +too well with you.” + +“Do you mean I’ve stolen your fortune?” he asked loudly, and she +smiled. + +“I wouldn’t accuse you of that. I think it is possible you may have +invested my fortune--unwisely! And it is quite possible that that +quarter of a million has dwindled and dwindled until it has +disappeared. Is that so?” + +He did not answer. + +“Is that so?” + +“I wish to God you wouldn’t ask such stupid questions,” he said +irritably. “Of course it isn’t so!” + +For one wild moment he had the impulse to tell her the truth; but +vanity, a shrinking from the possible effects the news would have upon +the one person in the world for whom he had a grain of affection, +inhibited the confession. + +Back he came naturally to the one thought present in his mind, as he +chattered and as he brooded. His last hope lay in the discovery of the +Chelford treasure. If that were found, he could snap his fingers at +Gilder, could restore the wasted fortune of his sister, and establish +himself beyond assail. Gilder would never dare bring his story of the +four bills to a court of law, and if he did, backed by the Chelford +fortune, Arthur could face the storm, confident that, if he made +restoration to the man he had robbed, no evil consequences would +follow. He was grasping at a straw, and knew it. But Mary Wenner was a +shrewd little devil, not the kind of girl who, for the sake of making +a sensation, would come to him with a cock-and-bull story. She might +have been mistaken; on the other hand, she was so brimful of +confidence that he could not believe the story was altogether without +foundation. + +The road to Willow House skirted the grounds of Fossaway Manor, and he +saw the crumbling arch, red in the setting sun, standing like a fiery +question mark that attuned with his mood of doubt and hope. + +Arrived at his home, he went up to his room to bathe and change before +dinner, and it was with a positive sense of freedom that he found +himself alone. He was a fool not to have told her the truth, he +thought. After dinner he would get her in a softer mood and make a +clean breast of it. And then, at the tail of this decision, came the +recollection of his interview with Mary Wenner. Suppose she had told +the truth? Suppose he found these millions of pounds that had lain for +centuries in the ground? He formed yet another plan. + + + + + XVI + +To his unspeakable relief, Leslie was in her most cheerful mood +throughout dinner, and the thought of Fabrian Gilder seemed to have +been effectively banished. + +“Leslie,” he asked, after the coffee had been served, “I want you to +do me a great favour.” + +She looked at him across the table, doubt in her eyes. + +“Do you remember Mary Wenner, who used to be Harry’s secretary?” + +She nodded. + +“Yes. Dick doesn’t like her very much; he was telling me the other +day----” + +“Never mind what Dick likes or dislikes,” he said testily. “Great +heavens! Are our lives to be run according to his fancies? I’m very +sorry,” he apologized with a laugh, “but you’ll have to forgive +me--I’m rather nervous to-night.” + +“What about Mary Wenner?” she asked. + +“I was wondering whether you would like to ask her down here to stay a +week-end? I shall have a lot of work to do, and she’s a very excellent +stenographer. But I’ll be perfectly frank with you and tell you that +that is not the only reason I’d like you to invite her. She’s been in +some kind of scrape and I want to help her through.” + +Leslie Gwyn was not curious, or she might have questioned him more +about this mythical trouble. + +“I don’t know why she shouldn’t come,” she said. “If you’ll give me +her address I will write to her. I rather fancy that Dick’s main +objection to her is that she had some sort of attachment for Harry.” + +“She’s almost forgotten Harry,” smiled her brother. “To be perfectly +candid, I like the girl. She’s not a lady, of course, but ‘lady’ +nowadays is a vague and meaningless term. And there was really nothing +in her affair with Harry. I mean it was not serious.” + +“I’ve never thought so,” said the girl, and thereupon the question of +Mary Wenner was dismissed. + +He had, he said, some work to do that night, and left her alone in the +drawing-room, and for once she did not find time hanging very heavily +upon her hands. Ordinarily the prospect of an evening spent alone +would have seemed intolerably dull, but she had so much to think +about, so many perspectives to adjust, that she rather welcomed her +solitude. + +Even at so short a distance of time, her experience with Fabrian +Gilder seemed grotesquely unreal. Perhaps she was still numb from the +shock of it, for, going over that unpleasant feature incident by +incident, she could be neither angry nor amused. Perhaps she was a +little afraid--she still felt the pressure of his strong hands upon +her, still saw the gray fires that burnt in his eyes. And Dick--how +natural it had been to go to him--how safe she had felt! Would it have +been the same if Harry Chelford had providentially arrived? She was +sure in her mind that she would not have run to Harry, or found +comfort in his encircling arms. + +She looked at the clock; it was ten minutes after nine. Dick would be +back at Fossaway Manor by now, and she went out into the hall and, +taking off the receiver of the telephone, gave a number. + +Arthur’s study door opened into the hall, and he came out. + +“To whom are you telephoning?” he asked suspiciously. + +“I’m calling up Fossaway Manor,” she said. + +“You’re not going to invite Dick Alford over, are you?” he demanded +resentfully. + +Before she could reply, he heard the ring of a bell in the servants’ +quarters and she ran to the door. Through the glass panel she saw the +gleam of a white shirt-front on the unlighted porch, and switched on +the lights. It was Dick, and, with an oath, Arthur Gwyn flung back +into his room and slammed the door. He had hoped that Dick had +forgotten his threat to call that night. + +“Enter, Richard of Chelford!” said the girl dramatically, as she threw +open the door. “I was just ’phoning to you. I’m bored to extinction +and I want amusing.” + +Which was not true. + +“I don’t feel at all amusing,” said Dick, as he closed the door and +hung up his cap on the hat-rack. + +She took him by the arm and led him into the drawing-room. + +“Arthur is invisible to-night; he is working very hard. He doesn’t +approve of you, and you hardly approve of him, so we sha’n’t be +interrupted! Dick, it was lovely of you to arrive as you did this +afternoon.” + +“Gilder proposed to you, I understand?” said Dick quietly. + +“Did he tell you?” She fetched a long sigh. “Yes; I was amazed. I +suppose it was very complimentary, but why did he do it in such a +great hurry, do you think?” + +Dick took a cigarette from the box she offered him and lit it before +he replied. + +“That is exactly what I’ve come to discover,” he said. “I feel rather +like a grand inquisitor, but I must know.” + +“And I can’t tell you.” + +She was acting. He knew that her one object was to turn him from an +interview with her brother, and she in turn knew that her efforts +would be in vain. + +“You had no hint of this precious proposal in advance? Arthur told you +nothing?” + +“No; Arthur couldn’t possibly have known. He told me that Mr. Gilder +wanted us to see his new flat, and although it was a great bore going +out to tea with somebody one doesn’t know, I went----” + +“To oblige Arthur, of course?” + +“No,” she insisted; “you must credit me with a reasonable amount of +feminine curiosity. Bachelors’ establishments intrigue me. Your one +drawback, from my point of view, is that you’ve only a poky little +office and, I presume, a wretched little servant’s bedroom.” + +“For a second son I’m rather well off,” said Dick with a quizzical +smile. “You are sure Arthur didn’t give you any forewarning of this +proposal?” + +“Absolutely sure. He was as much astonished as I was.” + +“Have you discussed it with him?” he asked quickly. + +She hesitated. + +“Yes, I spoke about it in the car on the way down, and Arthur was +rather--astonished.” + +“Only astonished--not furious?” + +“He may have been furious, too. Arthur doesn’t carry his heart on his +sleeve.” + +“I should imagine not,” said Dick drily, and then: “Will you ask him +if I can see him for five minutes?” + +She looked at him with troubled eyes. + +“You’re not going to quarrel, are you, Dick?” + +He shook his head. + +“No, I’m going to ask him a question or two. You realize that I’m +entitled to know.” + +“Why are you ‘entitled’?” + +“Don’t you think I am?” he asked gently. + +Her eyes went up to his for a second, and then dropped, as she read +something there that thrilled and hurt her. Without a word she went +out into the hall and knocked at Arthur’s door. + +“What does he want? I can’t be bothered to-night,” said Arthur Gwyn +fretfully. “What a fellow he is for interrupting people when they’re +busy!” + +“I think you’d better see him, Arthur,” she said, and added: “And get +it over.” + +He shot a quick glance at her. + +“What do you mean--get what over?” he asked. + +“Whatever there is to get over,” said Leslie quietly. + +Arthur looked down at the picturesque confusion of papers that covered +his library table. + +“All right, shoot him in,” he said ungraciously. + + + + + XVII + +He did not attempt to rise from his chair when Dick entered, closing +the door behind him. + +“Sit down, will you, Alford? Leslie tells me you want to see me.” + +“Leslie need not have given you that message. I’d already told you +this afternoon that I would come to you for an explanation.” + +“Of what?” + +“Of the unpleasant happening at Gilder’s flat. This man proposed to +your sister--you know that?” + +“Leslie told me,” said the other, after a moment’s silence. + +“And you were annoyed, one supposes? You will dismiss this clerk of +yours to-morrow?” + +The other leaned back in his chair. + +“I don’t see why I should,” he said coolly. “After all, it’s no crime +for any man to propose to a pretty girl. Of course, he’s not the sort +of fellow I should choose for a brother-in-law, but if brothers had to +choose husbands for their sisters, you know, Alford, there would be +some very queer marriages!” + +“What is his pull?” asked Dick quietly. + +“I don’t----” + +“What is his hold on you?” + +“What the devil do you mean?” + +“Just what I say. You would never tolerate a man like Gilder paying +attentions to your sister, apart from the insult he offered to a +prospective Countess of Chelford, unless he had such a grip on you +that all your natural indignation was crushed by the fear of some +consequence he held over your head.” + +Arthur Gwyn found it difficult to control his voice. + +“My dear fellow, how very melodramatic!” he scoffed. “Hold over me! +You must have been studying the latest Drury Lane play! Naturally, I +would rather see Leslie married to your brother, but I certainly would +put no obstacle in her way if her heart was set elsewhere.” + +“On Gilder, in fact?” + +“On Gilder,” nodded Arthur gravely, as though the matter had been the +subject of deep thought and much self-communion. + +And then Dick Alford asked a question that brought the man to his +feet, white and shaking. + +“Is it the question of the bills?” + +“The--the what?” faltered the lawyer. + +“The four bills which were supposed to be backed by my brother--the +signatures being forgeries. I thought you knew that I had seen them. +They were shown to me at the bank, and fortunately I did not disclaim +them--fortunately for you, I mean. When I went to see them again they +were taken up. I presume Mr. Fabrian Gilder redeemed them. That would +have cost him a little over five thousand pounds, and I presume he did +not do that out of sheer altruism.” + +Arthur Gwyn’s mouth was dry; he could scarcely articulate. + +“I didn’t know until to-day,” he muttered. “Harry was ill at the time. +The money was due to me for--for--legal costs. I went down to the bank +to take them up and found they had been honoured.” + +“Was that the pull?” + +He did not meet the steady gaze that was fixed on him. + +“Yes, that was the pull, if you want to know. You don’t suppose I’d +allow Leslie to marry a swine like Gilder unless--unless he had +something on me, do you? Can’t you understand my position, Alford? I’m +ruined! That fellow could send me to jail--he still can.” + +Dick shook his head. + +“Fire him to-morrow,” he said. “If he produces the bills I will +undertake that Harry will acknowledge the signatures.” + +The pink came back to the colourless face of the lawyer. + +“You’ll do this?” he said eagerly. “My God! you don’t know what a +weight you’ve lifted off my mind. You’re a brick, by jove! I’ll fire +him to-morrow.” + +He held out an eager hand and Dick took it with some hesitation. At +the best of times Arthur Gwyn did not impress him; at this moment, +almost incoherent with relief, he seemed a pitiful coward. + +“I will pay Harry every penny. I have something on the stocks now that +will bring me in a fortune, that will wipe out all my debts and put me +on my feet again.” + +There was humour in the situation; for the thing which was to +rehabilitate his fortunes was no less than the barefaced robbery of +Harry Chelford’s inheritance! But Arthur was not conscious of the +irony of the position. He would deal with Gilder in the morning. Thank +God he had not gone still deeper into the mire! The knowledge that in +his pocketbook was another bill as yet unuttered, did not cool the +glow of virtue he was experiencing. Henceforth he would walk the +straight way. + +“There’s one thing you could do for me, Alford--hurry along that +marriage. Fix it for next month if you can. Leslie is just a foolish +girl, she is trying to put off the inevitable, but that’s natural, +isn’t it? Can’t you buck up Harry----” + +Dick Alford looked at him steadily. + +“The matter must be left entirely to Leslie,” he said, and there was +something very definite and final in those words. + +They came out of the library together; Leslie waiting, a little +fearful, saw the smile on her brother’s face and breathed a sigh of +thankfulness. + +“You’re not going?” Dick was reaching for his cap. + +“I have to get back to the house,” he said, and, seeing her look of +disappointment, he stood irresolutely. + +“Come along in and play mah-jongg. I am in a mah-jongg mood,” said +Arthur, almost jovially. + +If there was one thing that Dick could not endure that night it was to +sit vis-à-vis with Arthur Gwyn. He would have liked to stay with the +girl, but for the moment her brother seemed an inevitable third. And +he was terribly informative. Arthur was in his most expansive mood. + +“Here is something that will interest you!” + +He pointed to the wall. Hanging against a dark wooden shield was an +iron dagger--black and sinister, the handle worn smooth, the long +blade notched and jagged. Dick had seen it before. + +“That should be at your place, Alford. The veritable dagger of the +veritable Black Abbot’s slayer--Hubert of Redruth! Look at his arms on +the hilt.…” + +“I have seen it,” said Dick shortly. “Put on your coat and come for a +walk, Leslie,” he suggested, and the obliging Arthur, who would have +been agreeable to any scheme he propounded, seconded the suggestion. + + + + + XVIII + +The night was cool and dark. There was a full moon, visible at +intervals through the drift of clouds. Leslie slipped her arm into his +as they walked down the dark avenue toward the road. + +“Did you quarrel?” she asked. + +“N-no, we didn’t quarrel,” said Dick. “There was a little plain +speaking, but I think it cleared the air, and, after all, that was +what I came for. He is dismissing Gilder to-morrow.” + +She was silent at this, and did not speak again until they were on the +road. + +“Is that wise?” she asked. “I’m a little afraid of the man. I feel he +would be a very bad enemy.” + +She heard his soft laugh and felt reassured. + +“He’s that all right,” said Dick; “the worst enemy any man could have, +I should imagine. But an enemy is only dangerous in ratio to his +hurting power. I don’t think Mr. Gilder will hurt anybody.” + +“Not Arthur?” she asked. + +“Not Arthur, and certainly not you.” + +She squeezed his arm in hers. + +“You’d be a wonderful brother,” she said. + +“I am,” he said curtly, and she smiled in the darkness. “Your handsome +relative asked me to persuade you to marry next month, and I told him +point-blank that I would do nothing of the kind. Leslie, do you know +that you never see Harry from one week-end to another?” + +She had realized that for a long time, and it was a constant subject +for self-reproach that she had less and less desire for her fiancé’s +society. + +“He is really not interested in me, Dick,” she said. “Harry is so +absorbed in his treasure hunt and his queer chase after the elixir of +life----” + +“He’s told you that, has he?” asked Dick quickly. + +“Why, of course!” she scoffed. “Do you know, Dick, he has almost +convinced me that there is something in his idea?” + +She waited for him to reply. + +“Don’t you think so?” + +“In the Life Water… perhaps there is.” + +“And in the treasure?” she asked. + +“Maybe. Generations of Chelfords have hunted for that wretched gold, +and I suppose in the past four hundred years almost as much money has +been spent in the search as the treasure is worth! I’m perfectly sure +in my own mind that Good Queen Bess of pious memory bagged every bar +of it!” + +“And I’m perfectly sure she didn’t,” was the surprising reply. “I’ve +been reading Elizabethan history very carefully, and the year that +your ancestor hid his gold was the year that the Queen was so +hard-pressed for money that she had to borrow from the Lombards.” + +He stopped. + +“Is that so?” incredulously. + +“Absolutely. And if you weren’t such a sceptic and would read a little +more, you would know what any schoolchild could tell you, that in 1582 +the Queen was broke. Do you object to that vulgar word?” + +“It is a familiar one at any rate,” he laughed. + +They had reached the deep cutting, and he turned to the left, opened a +gate, and they walked up a little path toward the ruins of Chelford +Abbey. + +The moon was showing through a rift in the clouds. + +“You ought to see the Abbey by moonlight, if you’ve never seen it. +It’s rather beautiful,” he said, as he gave her a hand to assist her +up the steep path. + +As they came in sight of the broken walls and towers of this ancient +place of peace, something of the solemnity of the scene entered her +heart, and she stood still, looking spellbound upon the wreckage of a +once great abbey. The Abbey ruins stood on the broadest surface of +what was locally known as the Mound--the high embankment which ran +almost from Fossaway Abbey to the road, following the course of the +little Ravensrill. Here, if tradition spoke the truth, a place of +sacrifice had stood, before the English church had risen in flint, +before the Norman monks laid chisel to stone on their great abbey. + +The moon softened and idealized the broken stonework, and in her mind +she went back through the years to those ancient times when the +black-robed figures of the monks moved where she now stood. Below, to +the left, she could see the fret of sparkling silver where the moon +reflected in the Ravensrill. Here they had sat, these ancient men, +with their fishing-rods, discussing the little events of their narrow +world. They had passed into dust, and this great abbey, the pride of +their eyes and the work of their hands, was crumbling rapidly into +like nothingness. + +“It is wonderful!” she breathed. + +Were her eyes deceiving her? She could have sworn she saw something +moving in the shadow of the old tower. He heard the quick intake of +her breath. + +“What is it?” he asked. + +“I don’t know--my imagination, I think. I thought I saw somebody +moving there.” + +He followed the direction of her eyes. + +“There would be nobody here at this time of the night, unless it is +the Black Abbot,” he said jocularly, “and we’re not scared of him, are +we?” + +“I’m not, for one,” she said, with a firmness that she was far from +feeling. + +At that moment she heard something--something that turned her blood to +water. It was a low moan of anguish, a sobbing diminuendo of sound +that began on a high note and wailed down the scale until it was +inaudible. + +“What was that?” she asked, grasping his arm. + +He did not speak; he was straining his eyes toward the shadows. + +Again the sound, this time a wail that ended in a scream. He caught +the girl by the shoulder. At that moment he had seen a figure moving +away from the Abbey toward the river. A tall, black figure that showed +clearly in the moonlight. She saw it, too. + +“Don’t leave me, Dick!” she begged, as she felt him strain away from +her. + +Then of a sudden she felt his tension relax. + +“Let him go,” he said, half to himself. + +She clung to him desperately, frantically, as the figure stumbled and +staggered toward the trees that would presently engulf him. The +dreadful Thing ran on, stopping now and again to turn and gibber and +mouth at the man and the woman who stood motionless on the edge of the +cutting. Waving wild arms, now howling in dreadful glee, now screaming +in senseless fear, it vanished in the dark of the wood--an obscene, +uncleanly thing, that belonged to bad dreams and the horrid imaginings +of madness. Far away in the distance came the howl of him, and then +the night swallowed him up. + +“How dreadful!” + +And then her knees gave under her and she remembered no more. + + + + + XIX + +Leslie opened her eyes and frowned up into the face that was bent +over her. She was lying on the verge of the road, for Dick had carried +her down into the cutting and a hundred yards toward Willow House. + +“Oh, how awful!” she shuddered, and closed her eyes. “It was the Black +Abbot?” + +Dick Alford did not reply for a while. His anxiety for the girl was +such that all other interests had passed from his mind. + +“I am all right now,” she said, and, with his assistance, stood +shakily on her feet. “I told you I was a fool. This is my crazy day! +Dick, what was it?” + +“He was too far away from me to see,” said Dick; “probably one of our +stupid villagers under the influence of drink.” + +She shook her head. + +“No, it was not that, Dick! It was----” She shuddered again. “I think +I’d better go home.” + +“I think you’d be wise,” he said gravely. “I wish I hadn’t brought you +out now.” + +She laughed a little shakily and clung to him tighter. + +“In a way I’m glad you did,” she said, as they walked slowly toward +her home. “Dick, I had all sorts of queer dreams: just before I woke +up I felt somebody kiss me. It was so convincing that I can still feel +the lips on my cheek.” + +“I kissed you,” he said, without shame. “I thought the shock would +bring you to life!” + +Her laughter was almost hysterical, for Leslie’s nerves were jangled +and on edge. + +“You might at least have denied that,” she said. “Dick, you have no +subtlety!” + +As they walked slowly toward the house, she noticed that he looked +back once or twice. + +“You’re not expecting that--that thing to follow us, are you?” she +asked, her teeth chattering. + +“No, I thought I heard a car” (which was true). “I’ll swear I saw a +haze of light over the crest of the road, but I must have been +mistaken.” + +He was not mistaken, and knew it. A car had been following them, had +been slowly ascending the hill to the cutting; he had seen the +reflected rays from the lamps distinctly, and had heard the soft purr +of engines. What was more certain than anything else, the car could +not have turned in that narrow road, so that the only explanation was +that the unknown driver had switched off his lights and stopped his +machine. + +“Let me look at you.” He turned her to the moonlight and lifted her +face. “I don’t know whether you’re horribly pale or whether it’s a +trick of the moon,” he said, “but you look mighty ill: You had better +go straight to bed, preferably without seeing your brother.” + +“Why?” she asked, in surprise. + +“I don’t want this spook story to get around, for one thing,” he said. +“And for another--oh well, the other doesn’t matter.” + +Leslie realized that she was walking at a much slower pace than her +physical weakness justified. She was still a little shaky, but in +every sense had recovered from the shock. Too sane to believe in +ghosts, she had, nevertheless, been shaken by the terrible experience. +She leaned heavily on Dick’s arm as they paced up the avenue to the +house, turning on to the grass that Arthur should not hear their +footsteps and come out to give them a boisterous welcome. Presently, +with a sigh, she dropped his arm. + +“I’m glad I went out,” she said, in a low voice. “And I’m rather +glad----” She did not finish the sentence. + +The silence that followed was a little disturbing for both of them. +Suddenly she faced him. + +“Dick, do you want me to marry your brother?” + +He did not answer. + +“Do you--really?” + +She heard his sigh in the dark. She could not see his face, for they +stood in the shadow of a great cedar immediately before the house. + +“I don’t know,” he said. There was a bleakness in his voice she had +heard once before. “It isn’t a question of my liking. I can offer you +no reason why you should not marry him. You must do what you want, +Leslie. The decision must rest entirely with you--and if I were a +praying man, I would spend the night praying that you did right.” + +“Do you wish me to marry him?” she asked again. + +“I cannot tell you.” His voice was hard, and there swept over her a +wave of unreasonable anger and resentment against his detachment. + +“I won’t ask you that question again,” she said, her voice trembling. +“Good-night, Dick.” + +She ran into the hall and up to her room, and long after she had gone, +he stood where she had left him, looking wistfully at the door which +had closed upon her. + +With something like despair at his heart, Dick Alford walked quickly +along the road toward Fontwell Cutting. He had something to distract +his mind for the moment. + +There was no sign of the car, and, instead of passing through the +cutting gates, he continued over the brow of the hill. + +When he went out at night he invariably carried a small flash lamp (he +kept a supply of them at the house, for his electric supply had a +trick of failing at inconvenient moments) and this he took from his +pocket, and, switching on, threw the light on the road, sweeping the +beam from side to side. This was not a main thoroughfare, and, except +his own and Gwyn’s car, and an occasional tradesman’s Ford, there was +little traffic. He saw the diamond-shaped impress of Arthur Gwyn’s +Rolls, could pick out his own little machine, and presently he saw a +new track: the track of tires with an arrow-shaped tread. He could +distinguish the exact spot at which it had stopped. Apparently the +driver had made no attempt to turn, but had gone backward some +distance. He followed the trail till it curved round, apparently into +an open field. The wagon gate was closed, but on the loamy earth the +mark of wheels was very apparent. + +Red Farm! thought Dick, and, opening the gate, he went into the field. +His search was a very short one, for the deserted car was parked close +under the hedge parallel with the road. All the lights were out, but +the radiator was still hot. He examined the machine carefully; it bore +a London number and was new: an American touring car, replete with all +the gadgets of its kind. He made a careful note of the number and, +walking back to the gate, sat on the top rail and waited. + +His vigil was not a protracted one. From where he sat he could see +over the swelling hill the top curve of the Abbey arch, and five +minutes after he had taken up his position he saw a figure silhouetted +against the skyline cross the brow and descend the hill toward him. + +Fossaway Park was enclosed in a large-meshed wire net fence, which +offered no obstacle to any person who wished to surmount it; but the +stranger had evidently not reconnoitred the ground very thoroughly, +for Dick heard the clang of the wire as some heavy object struck +against it, a curse, and presently he could discern a figure climbing +over the wide mesh and drop into the road. + +For a few seconds it was out of sight, and then he saw it again, +silhouetted against the white of the road. Nearer and nearer it came. + +“Good-evening, Mr. Gilder,” said Dick politely. “Are you seeing the +sights of Chelfordbury?” + +Gilder started violently and almost dropped the heavy stick he was +carrying. + +“Hullo!” he stammered. “Who the dickens are you?” + +A beam of light shot suddenly from his hand and focussed the +questioner. + +“Oh, you!” said Gilder, taking a long breath. “Gosh! you scared me! I +was just admiring your old ruins by moonlight. They’re rather fine.” + +“On behalf of the ruins, I thank you,” said Dick, with elaborate +courtesy. “Any nice things that you can say about Chelford Abbey are +deeply appreciated by its present owner.” + +The man was disconcerted and obviously ill at ease. + +“I left my car in the field; I thought it might get in the way of +traffic----” he began. + +“The traffic around here between ten and midnight is not very +numerous,” said Dick; “but if you have the illusion that Red Farm is +your property, it is quite understandable that your car should be +parked there. What is the game, Gilder?” + +He was conscious that the man’s eyes were peering at him. + +“I don’t know what you mean by ‘game.’ Is it unlawful to admire a +moonlight view?” + +“It is unlawful to trespass on my brother’s property,” said Dick. “May +I repeat my question: What is the game?” + +“I don’t understand you. Do you mind letting me get through that gate? +I am going home.” + +Dick Alford descended from the gate slowly and pushed it open. + +“You are a suspicious character, Gilder.” + +The man snapped round at him. + +“What the devil do you mean?” + +“Just what I say. You are a suspicious character. It is very +suspicious to find you loafing around Fossaway Park at this hour of +the night, particularly after certain things which have happened +recently.” + +“Do you think I am the Black Abbot?” sneered the man, and Dick’s +chuckle came from the darkness. + +“There are many interesting possibilities about you, Gilder. What did +you expect to find in the Abbey?” + +“I tell you I was merely admiring the view by moonlight. If that is an +offence you can bring me before a bench of magistrates.” + +Dick, his hands in his pockets, stood watching the man as he switched +on the lights of the car and started it. + +“The place to admire the ruins is from the crest of the hill, not from +the ruin itself,” he said. “If you had been a normal admirer you would +never have been out of sight. May I also suggest that it wasn’t +necessary to switch off your lights or to hide your car--the best view +of the Abbey is from the upper road. Gilder, you had better be +careful.” + +“Is that a threat?” + +“It is a warning,” said Dick. “And a man as clever as you would not +lightly despise such a warning. By the way, my solicitors are starting +an action to-morrow to set aside your agreement with Farmer Leonard. I +am hoping that you will not involve yourself in the expense of +defending the action.” + +“That is a matter that I shall discuss with your lawyers,” said +Gilder, as he started the car. + +Dick watched the machine as it waddled over the furrows and turned on +to the road, and followed it out, closing the gate behind it. + +“Do you know anything about racing, Gilder?” + +Gilder turned with a jerk. Was this man privy to his secrets? + +“I know a little--why?” + +“Do you know what a warning-off notice is?” + +Gilder stared at him open-mouthed. + +“Yes, it is a notice issued by the Jockey Club warning people off +Newmarket Heath.” + +“Splendid!” said Dick. “Will you take a warning-off notice from me? I +warn you off Willow House and all that is contained therein!” + +“And if I don’t accept the warning?” + +“You’ll be sorry, as I’ve remarked before,” said Dick. + +Gilder jammed in his clutch and the car jerked forward with a whine, +and soon its tail lights had disappeared round the end of the road. + + + + + XX + +The Second Son climbed the fence, though the gate was near enough, +and, passing the Abbey ruins, walked briskly toward Fossaway Manor. +His way brought him past the wing of the house in which his brother’s +library was situated. One of the big leaded windows was open and he +caught a glimpse of Harry at his desk, sitting in the half light, his +head on his hands, a book before him. Dick sighed and continued on his +way. + +Thomas, the footman, answered the bell he rang. + +“Get me some coffee and biscuits. I shall be working late,” he said. + +When the man had gone, he went to his desk and unlocked the post bag +that had come up from the station that night and shook out a heap of +letters. He sorted them over carefully, and, selecting one, opened it. +The letter bore the Royal crest and the plain address “New Scotland +Yard,” and was from an old school friend of his: + + + Dear Dick: + + Thank you for your rather extraordinary letter, but I am afraid we can + do nothing for you officially. Private detectives, of course, are punk + for your purpose, and the best I can do for you is as follows. We have + a detective sergeant at headquarters named Puttler--you may have seen + his name in connection with the Hatton Garden robbery. He’s a very + efficient man and marked for promotion, but rather a weird-looking + bird. At the Yard we call him “Monkey Puttler,” though he is + universally liked in spite of this unflattering sobriquet. Puttler + never takes any kind of holiday, and is generally supposed to spend + his spare time in criminal investigation and to sleep in an odd corner + of the Yard. He is entitled to six weeks’ holiday leave. Of course, in + ordinary circumstances he would never dream of taking six minutes, but + I have had a talk with him, and with the complete approval of our + chief (it was necessary to tell him what you wanted) Puttler will + spend his holiday at Fossaway Manor. As I said before, he is rather a + queer-looking creature, a rabid teetotaller, a strong churchman, with + violent views on church music. You can rely absolutely upon his + discretion. I’ve told him that you will pay him ten pounds a week and + all his expenses. I only wish I could let you have him permanently, + but I trust that in six weeks your trouble will be cleared up. + + +Dick put the letter carefully in his inside pocket, and, walking +across the hall, went into the library. Lord Chelford heard the door +close and looked up. + +“Hullo, Dick!” he said, quite amiably. “What is the news?” + +Before he answered, Dick Alford walked to the window through which he +had seen his brother, pulled it close, and fastened the lock. + +“What is wrong?” growled Chelford. + +“Our monkish friend has been seen,” he said, “and I think it advisable +that your window should be kept closed.” + +Harry Chelford’s hand went up to his lips. + +“Can’t we do anything with that fellow?” he asked fretfully. “Where +are the police? What do we pay them for? It’s monstrous that the +countryside should be terrified by… Really, Dick, couldn’t you do +something?” + +“The police are doing everything that can be done,” Dick replied. + +He charged his pipe carefully and lit it with a match which he took +from a silver container on Harry’s table. + +“I’ve been over to see Leslie,” he said. “Put away that infernal book +and talk.” + +With evident reluctance Lord Chelford closed the thick tome over which +he had been poring and leaned back in his chair with an air of +resignation. + +“Leslie? I don’t see very much of her,” he said. “She’s a very +intelligent girl and knows how busy I am. Not every woman would show +so much understanding. Did you see Arthur?” + +Dick nodded. + +“I had a ’phone message saying that he was coming over in the morning. +He wants me to sign some documents in connection with Leslie’s +estate--good fellow, Arthur.” + +“Very,” said Dick, without a trace of sarcasm in his voice. + +“Yes, I owe a lot to Arthur.” Harry looked up through his horn-rimmed +spectacles and nodded as he spoke. “I shouldn’t have met Leslie, and +certainly I shouldn’t have had any idea of marrying,” he went on +naïvely, “but Arthur was very keen to get a husband for her who +wasn’t a fortune-hunter. And of course, the money will be useful.” + +Dick listened patiently to this disjointed explanation for the +forthcoming marriage. He had heard it before in identically the same +terms. + +“Why do you want to marry money at all?” he asked. “We’re not +paupers.” + +Harry Chelford shrugged his thin shoulders. + +“I suppose we’re not,” he said indifferently. “I never bother about +the money side. You’re such a clever old bird, Dick, that I’m spared +that. By heavens, I don’t know where I should be if it wasn’t for you. +Do you get all you want yourself, Dicky?” + +Dick Alford nodded. + +“A nice girl,” his brother went on, “and, as I say, a sensible girl. I +wish you’d get her over to dinner one night; there are several things +I want to talk about to Arthur. There’s the Doncaster estate, for +example. I had a letter from somebody the other day, saying that they +were willing to pay a very big price for Creethorpes. I don’t see any +reason in the world why we shouldn’t sell.” + +“But I do,” said Dick, puffing slowly at his pipe. “I also have had +the offer, and when I get one that approximates to my eyes as being +near the Creethorpes value, we may sell. But the price that has been +offered is ludicrous.” + +“A hundred and twenty thousand pounds?” murmured Lord Chelford, +shaking his head disparagingly. “I don’t see how you can improve on +that, Dick.” + +“We can try,” said Dick. + +His eyes were roaming the desk, and after a while he saw a book which +was seldom far away from his brother’s hand, and, getting up, he +reached over and took it, Chelford watching with a triumphant smile. + +“It’s got you, has it, old man?” he asked. “I thought it would sooner +or later. You’re too sensible to dismiss the Chelford treasure as a +myth.” + +Dick turned the old pages covered with pale writing: the diary of that +lord of Chelford who had suffered for his disloyalty at the hands of +the common headman. + +The idea had come to him in the middle of the previous night, and all +that day the old diary had come in and out of his mind at odd and +incongruous moments. Whilst it was not true that he had been won over +to his brother’s faith in the existence of the treasure, his curiosity +had been piqued by a vague recollection of one line in the diary. He +turned it up now and read: + + + These ingots he shall put away in the safe place if yet the weather be + dry and the drought continue, though rain is near at hand.… + + +“I am only wondering,” he said, as he handed back the book, “what +effect the drought had upon the hiding place; why rain would have +spoilt his plan, as apparently it would.” + +“Ha-ha!” said his lordship, almost boisterously. “The poison is +working, Richard! You will become as ardent a treasure-hunter as I. +Shall I tell you where the gold was hidden?” He leaned forward, his +elbows on the table, his eyes gleaming. “In a cave, or an underground +chamber of some kind. There are three references in this diary to a +chesil.” He turned the pages rapidly. “Listen, here is one,” he said, +and read: + + + “This day Tom Goodman brought me the chesil from Brighthelmstone.…” + + +“Which is Brighton, I presume?” asked Dick. + +His brother nodded, turning the pages. + +“Here is another reference,” he said. + + + “The new chesil has come. I have left it near the place and those dull + wights who see it will know little of its value to me.” + + +Dick smiled. + +“It must have been something remarkable in the way of chesils,” he +said. “It doesn’t mention its size or its shape?” + +“Nowhere; I have searched the diary for that.” + +There came a tap at the door; it was Thomas. + +“Will you have your coffee here, sir?” + +“No, put it in my room.” + +“Are you working to-night, Dick?” asked Chelford. + +“After you’ve gone to bed, Harry,” said Dick, with a laugh, “and I +think it is about time you went. One of these days you’ll have a +breakdown and I’ll have to call in your pet abomination.” + +“Ugh!” shivered Chelford. “Never bring a doctor into this house--I +loathe them!” + +He got up, stretched himself with a yawn, and Dick followed him out of +the room. + +“I shall sleep well to-night,” said his lordship, pushing back his +long black hair with a characteristic gesture. “If I’d only known of +that stuff before!” + +“What stuff is this?” asked Dick good-humouredly. + +Never a day passed that some new patent medicine did not come into the +house, some cure-all, accompanied by pages of closely printed +literature. Lord Chelford’s patent-medicine habit was a vicious +circle. The literature of one cure-all revealed symptoms of which he +had never been conscious before. No sooner had he settled upon a +miraculous nostrum than it was superseded by one even more dazzling in +its promises. + +Dick followed him up the stairs into the long room where he spent the +few hours he could tear himself away from his library. A four-poster +bed, an old dressing chest, a deep closet in which his scanty wardrobe +hung, and a very long table, the surface of which was literally +covered with bottles and small boxes, comprised the furniture of his +room, with the exception of a battered armchair before the fireplace. +There must have been more than a hundred boxes and packages on the +table. Some of these came in consequence of standing orders given +years before and never countermanded: these had never been opened. +There were cures for asthma, for bronchitis, for rheumatism, +marvellous liniments, amazing sleep-inducers, nerve tonics--every +disease to which the human system is liable had its antidote in that +collection. + +By the side of his bed on a small table was a jug of hot water and a +glass. Chelford opened a tin chosen from the medley of bottles and +boxes, took out two small white pellets and dropped them into a glass, +covering them with water. He stirred them till they were dissolved, +Dick watching, half amused, half pitiful. + +“Ah!” Chelford put down the glass. “That’s the stuff! No drugs, +Dick--just a mixture of natural elements that bring rest to the tired +brain and sleep to weary eyes!” + +“I guess you’re quoting the label,” said Dick, with a laugh. “Even +cocaine is a natural element. And there’s nothing nearer to nature +than morphia. You’re an old goop, Harry, and if I had my way I’d take +all these infernal bottles and dump them into the round pond.” + +“I should probably be dead in a month,” said Harry with a smile, as he +began to undress, “and you’d have to stand your trial for wilful +murder!” + +Dick closed the door behind him, waited till he heard the bolt shot +home, then went downstairs to his own room. His coffee was waiting and +he began his three-hour task: the opening and answering of letters, +the examination of leaflets and the inspection of bills. There were +checks to be signed, envelopes to be addressed, and it was nearly +three o’clock before he rose stiffly, and, pushing open the door of +the French windows, walked out upon the lawn. + + + + + XXI + +There was a sign of dawn in the sky. The air was sweet and pure and +he drew great breaths of nature’s champagne before he lit his pipe and +strolled noiselessly along the lawn, keeping parallel with the face of +the house. + +He had never felt less sleepy, and he was debating in his mind whether +he should take a cold bath and go on with some work that he had left +unfinished on the previous day, when he saw, only for a second, a pin +point of light in the distance. It was a white, star-like flicker that +dawned and disappeared almost instantly. + +“If that isn’t a flash lamp I’m a Dutchman,” he muttered, went back +into his room, and, taking down a shotgun, slipped a handful of +cartridges into the pocket of his dinner jacket. + +There had been a number of poaching affrays in the neighbourhood, and +the unknown poachers were a desperate gang who had never hesitated to +shoot. Dick felt it best to be on the safe side, and, with the gun +under his arm and two shells rammed home into the breech, he strolled +across to where he had seen the light. + +It is a fact that Dick Alford had no constitutional objection to +poachers. His views on the subject had shocked many a hoary-headed +country justice, for Dick held to the line that it was pardonable for +any man to “shoot for the cooking pot,” and to him poaching was a mild +joke. + +The house and surrounding trees obstructed his view, but a +five-minutes’ walk brought him through a thin plantation to the Priory +fields. Now he saw, unless his judgment was at fault, that the light +must have come from the direction of the Abbey ruins. He stood for ten +minutes in the shadow of a wood, but no light showed. And then, as his +foot was raised to walk forward, he saw it again--just a momentary +flicker, and this time there was no doubt that it came from the Abbey. +No intelligent poacher would waste five minutes on that part of the +estate, though there were trout in the Ravensrill, and the burrows of +a few hares in its banks. + +He moved forward steadily up the slope of the Mound and soon he could +distinguish the chaos of stone and crumbling walls. The intruder was +no expert burglar, for again the light flickered. Was it Gilder, he +wondered, as he followed the course of the little river. Had that +sinister man returned to admire the view of the Abbey by moonlight? +The east was turning gray; the cold morning wind had freshened; but +though he wore only a thin dinner suit, Dick did not feel the cold. +Stealthily he climbed to the top of the Mound, pausing to take +observation. + +Again the light, this time not fifty yards away, and he could make out +the figure of a man moving slowly amidst the broken walls. He was +searching the ground diligently. + +“Lost anything?” asked Dick. + +The visitor spun round with a startled cry. + +“Hullo! Who are you?” he asked hoarsely, and Dick recognized the +voice. + +It was Arthur Gwyn! + +A painful and embarrassing moment for Arthur Gwyn! + +“Hullo!” he said awkwardly. “I couldn’t sleep.” + +“Were you looking for an opiate?” asked Dick politely. “You should +have come up to the house; my brother has a small drug store, and we +might have been able to find you something for your insomnia.” + +“Don’t be amusing,” growled Arthur, thrown off his balance. “What I +meant was, I couldn’t sleep so I came out for a walk. This place +interests me.” + +“I never knew you were an archæologist before, and a midnight +archæologist at that! The country simply swarms with ’em!” said the +ironical young man. “Or perhaps you’re a moth hunter? Or did you come +out to hear the nightingale? It’s rather late in the season.” + +“See here, Alford, I don’t want you to get funny at my expense. I tell +you I came out for a walk. You’re not going to suggest I’m +trespassing, are you? If it comes to that, what are _you_ doing here?” + +He heard Dick chuckle and went hot under the collar. + +“I am attached to the estate: I thought you knew that,” said Dick at +last; “and one of my jobs is to challenge suspicious-looking +individuals at whatever hour they show themselves or their flash +lamps.” + +“Oh, you saw the light, did you? I thought somebody would.” Arthur was +himself again. “The truth is, Dick, I had a horrible dream that woke +me up. I dreamt I saw that wretched Black Abbot, and the dream was so +vivid that I resolved to come along and have a look at the place. It +was on the edge of the cutting that he was last seen.” + +“Oh, a ghost-hunter!” murmured Dick. “That of course explains +everything. You came armed, I see? Very wise!” + +Arthur had been praying that this objectionable man would not notice +the steel crowbar he carried, but the eyes of the other were +peculiarly sharp, and there was just enough dawn light to reveal the +nature of the instrument he carried. + +“You didn’t see the Black Abbot, I suppose?” said Dick, in his polite +conversational way. “No? I shouldn’t imagine you would. It’s rather +late for him. Our family ghosts keep early hours. They are a +respectable lot, and the Abbot, as you probably know, was a highly +respectable and even a religious man, though not, I believe, untouched +by the horrid voice of scandal.” + +He was walking by Arthur’s side to the cut road as he spoke, and the +light was not good enough for him to see the dull flush that came to +that good-looking man’s face, but he could guess it. + +“I don’t want to quarrel with you, Alford, but I have the greatest +objection to your being sarcastic at my expense. I don’t know why I +should explain anything to you, but you’ve been a good friend of mine +to-night and I’m telling you the truth. And really, it’s hardly +playing the game to doubt my word.” + +Dick said nothing to this, but poised himself watchfully on the edge +of the cut, until the ruffled man had disappeared from sight. What was +the meaning of all this? he wondered. What attraction had the Abbey +ruins for these strangely assorted people? First Mary Wenner, then +Gilder, and now Arthur Gwyn. What was there about these ancient stones +which would bring the fastidious lawyer from his bed to make an +early-morning search? He knew Arthur rather well, much better in fact +than he guessed. He hated discomfort of all sorts, but here he was, at +four o’clock in the morning, absurdly but suitably attired in a golf +suit of irreproachable pattern, a crowbar in one hand and an electric +torch in the other, turning over the rubbish of the Abbey and +seeking--what? The treasure! + +Not till that moment did the solution flash upon Dick Alford, and he +was so overcome that he sat down on the nearest sandstone block and +laughed till the tears came into his eyes. + +The treasure! Harry had infected these prosaic people with his +obsession. But how? Obviously, Mary Wenner was the connecting link. +There was a time, he remembered, when she was an enthusiastic seconder +to Harry’s efforts, and believed as implicitly in the existence of +this mythical gold as did her employer. Arthur was a friend of hers: +he had heard them “Arthur” and “Mary” each other; and, through Arthur, +Gilder must have come into the knowledge. So that was the explanation! +And the Chelford treasure was obviously the windfall that Arthur Gwyn +expected. + +He was smiling to himself all the way back to the house, until a +thought came into his mind that turned the joke of it. Suppose they +were right and he was wrong? Suppose there was a treasure to be found? +No sooner did the thought occur than he had laughed it out of his +mind. These people merely reflected Harry’s enthusiasm and faith. + +He fastened the door of his study and went up to the room that +overlooked the gardens of Fossaway Manor. Immediately opposite his +door was a narrow passageway ending in stairs, as narrow, that led to +the servants’ quarters. As his step sounded on the grand stairway, a +shadowy figure that had been prowling about the corridor slipped into +the narrow entrance and crouched down. Thomas, the footman, saw Dick +go into his room and close the door, and he breathed more freely. He +waited, but he could hear no movement. + +Silence reigned in Fossaway Manor. No sound came from the world +outside. In five minutes Dick was lying in a profound slumber. He had +drawn down the blinds that the light should not break his rest, and +the room was in almost complete darkness. + + * * * + +Ordinarily he would have heard a sound, the sound of the floor boards +creaking outside his door, and would have been awake instantly. Twice +the planks creaked under a heavy weight, but he did not stir. And then +the handle of his door turned slowly and the door itself moved the +fraction of an inch. The thing outside listened, showing its white +teeth in a grin. The sound of Dick Alford’s regular breathing came out +to him and he pushed the door open a little farther, and, crouching, +moved stealthily toward the bed, feeling for the brass rail at the +foot. + +Not a sound came from the intruder, and yet he was shaking with +laughter. He fumbled in his pocket and took out a long-bladed clasp +knife and opened it carefully, testing the edge with his thumb. Then, +slowly, his long fingers went out to locate the position of the body. +The Angel of Death hovered in that second above the sleeping man. + +From the hall below came a woman’s voice--distraught--beside herself +with fear. + +“Dick--Dick, for God’s sake!” + +Dick turned uneasily in his sleep and half opened his eyes. + + + + + XXII + +“Dick!” + +It was a girl’s voice, sharp with fear, that came from the hall below. + +“Dick!” + +The thing with the knife dropped the weapon and, cringing back toward +the door, hesitated a second, and slipped out. + +“Dick!” + +Again the voice, and Dick woke. Was he dreaming? Slipping out of bed, +he threw open the door and walked on to the landing. + +“Who’s calling?” he asked, husky with sleep. + +“It is I--Leslie! Dick, I want you.” + +He went back to his bedroom, pulled a dressing gown from a hook and +raced down the stairs, dressing as he went. She was standing in the +gloom of the hall, a slim figure. She had no hat; her bare feet were +thrust into slippers, and she wore an overcoat over what was evidently +a hastily assumed skirt. + +“What is the matter, dear?” + +He pushed open the door of his study and led her in. She was trembling +from head to foot. + +“I don’t know. Something dreadful has happened,” she gasped. “I +thought my car would wake you--didn’t you hear it?” + +“Something dreadful has happened? What?” he asked quickly. + +“I don’t know. I suppose I’ve got everything out of proportion--I saw +Arthur fighting with a man on the lawn. It was dreadful. I thought I +must have been mistaken and went to his room, but the bed was empty +and had not been slept in. By the time I could get downstairs on to +the lawn, they had disappeared. Oh, Dick, what can have happened?” + +“Fighting?” He was incredulous. “I saw Arthur--I don’t know how long +ago; it may have been an hour or two. I don’t know how long I’ve been +sleeping.” + +It was daylight now; the clock over the mantelpiece showed it to be a +quarter past five. + +“Just wait a moment. I’ll be with you in a jiffy.” + +He ran up the stairs and in five minutes rejoined her, dressed, and, +lifting her into the car, he sent the little machine flying down the +drive. + +“How did you get into the house?” + +“I came through your study. I rang the bell at the door, but nobody +answered me. And then I tried your French windows and they were open.” + +“I’m always forgetting to lock them. I’m glad I did. And they will +never be locked in the future,” said Dick. “Now, just tell me what +happened?” + +She told her story coherently. Her very association with this man had +restored her failing courage. And as she grew calmer, she became +penitent. + +“What a scare cat you will think I am!” she said ruefully. “I don’t +know what time it was--about half an hour ago, I think--but I was +sleeping when I heard voices. I went to the window and looked out. It +was still rather dark; there are an awful lot of trees before the +house, but I could see two men, and I wouldn’t have known one of them +was Arthur, only I heard him speaking angrily.” + +“Did you hear anything he said?” + +“No, they were too far away. They were near the laurels that hide the +house from the road. And then I saw Arthur strike the man, and they +began to struggle, and that is all I saw. By the time I’d got +downstairs they had disappeared.” + +“But you say you saw him? How could you?” + +Dick gave a version of his encounter with the lawyer that was more +flattering to Arthur than was deserved. + +“But that couldn’t be true!” she said, in perplexity. “He hadn’t been +to bed at all. What is the meaning of it, Dick?” + +“The Lord knows!” said Dick piously. “I wish my friend Puttler were +here.” + +The car ran through the cutting and took the long, straight road to +Willow House, they were turning into the drive when Dick saw a man +walking in front of him. + +“There’s your Arthur,” he said, and she uttered a little cry of +thankfulness. + +It was Arthur with a difference. His nose had been bleeding, his eye +was slightly discoloured. In other circumstances Dick would have +laughed, but the girl was so concerned with her brother’s injuries +that it would have been brutal even to find anything amusing in the +discomfiture of this dandified young lawyer. + +“It was nothing,” he said gruffly. “I met a poacher and had a slight +argument with him.” + +The knees of his new golfing knickers were soiled and torn; the +knuckles of his hand were red and bleeding. Dick felt that it was not +the moment to ask him questions, and followed the brother and sister +into the house, an interested and cautious observer of events. + +The servants had been roused and one of them brought some coffee, and +Dick, who had been half dead from sleepiness, accepted the steaming +cup gratefully. + +“What _do_ you think has happened, Dick?” she asked, when Arthur had +gone up to his room to treat his injuries, having refused all the +assistance she offered. + +“I think he has told us what has happened. He had trouble with a +poacher. In other words, he had a vulgar fight. It is one of those +distressing happenings that the best of men cannot always avoid.” + +She shot a suspicious glance at him. + +“You don’t mean that, Dick. And it couldn’t have been a poacher. I’m +perfectly sure it was Mr. Gilder.” + +Dick was not prepared to contest this point of view. The probability +of Arthur’s assailant being his head clerk was one that had occurred +to him. But why should Gilder be in the vicinity of Willow House at +that hour of the morning? At a suitable opportunity he would ask +Arthur Gwyn for the truth. + +He was conscious that she was looking at him, and, meeting her eyes, +he saw something that made him catch his breath. + +“What shall I ever do without you?” she asked, with a gesture of +helplessness. “I run to you crying every time I am hurt, and you +appear by magic whenever I’m in trouble! Dick, one of these days I’m +going to be a disgrace to my sex!” + +“I hope not, Leslie,” he smiled. “What particularly outrageous thing +have you in mind?” + +She nodded wisely. + +“You will see,” she said. “I also can be mysterious!” + +He declined the loan of her car and returned on foot to the house. +Unless Harry’s sleeping draught had taken effect, he would have heard +the car, for his room faced the drive. But no sound came from the +King’s Chamber, as his sleeping apartment was magniloquently termed, +and Dick went to his room and took off his clothes. + +He was getting into bed when his foot touched something hard and +shiny, and, stooping, he picked it up. + +“Moses!” said Dick under his breath, and switched on the light. + +The knife was a new one, its edge razor-sharp. He turned it over and +over in his hand and frowned. Then, walking to the door, he locked it; +and Dick did not usually sleep behind a locked door. But he realized +that the twenty-four hours through which he was passing were pregnant +with unpleasant possibilities. + + + + + XXIII + +The office of Gwyn & Gwyn was thrown into some disorder the next +morning by a most unexpected occurrence. Mr. Fabrian Gilder, for the +first time in his twenty-five years’ association with the business, +did not put in an appearance. Instead, came a note to the senior +clerk, asking that a certain drawer in his desk should be opened and +the contents thereof sent by special messenger to Mr. Gilder’s house +in Regent’s Park. There was a postscript to the note. + + + It is unlikely that I shall return to the business. I have handed my + resignation to Mr. Gwyn, and intend to devote my time to the + development of my private affairs. + + +A wire from Arthur Gwyn appointed the senior clerk to take the place +of the retired Gilder: an arrangement not altogether to the +satisfaction of the senior clerk, for there were unpleasant +whisperings about Gwyn & Gwyn, hints of dire developments to come that +made the older members of the staff quake in their shoes. + +Arthur did not appear that day, nor the next, and the mystery of +Gilder’s resignation remained unsolved, for the confidential messenger +who carried his papers to his flat, and who expected to hear from him +the reason for his sudden departure, was not admitted. Mr. Gilder was +in bed; he had come up from the country early in the morning and had +met with a slight accident whilst getting out of his car. Apparently +he had remained awake long enough to write his letter to the office, +but was now sleeping, so the servant said. And she spoke the truth, +though he did not sleep as soundly as he might have done had his lips +not been cut and his shoulder slightly strained. You cannot indulge in +fisticuffs in the uncertain light of dawn without incurring a certain +amount of damage. + +Curiosity was not the besetting vice of Dick Alford; even if it had +been, he would not have spared the time to make a call at Gwyn & +Gwyn’s to discover the extent of Mr. Gilder’s damage. He had his bath +and shaved just before lunch, and came downstairs to find that the +noon train had brought him a visitor. + +Sergeant Puttler he recognized, though he had never seen him before, +from the description that his friend had sent him. He was a tall, +gaunt man of forty. The tired-looking brown eyes that gazed with +gentle melancholy from their deep sockets reminded him of a sick and +sorrowful chimpanzee he had once seen. His forehead was low, his upper +lip long, and his arms reached almost to his knees. These features, +added to a constitutional stoop, contributed to his unprepossessing +appearance. Poor Mr. Puttler was not unaware of the simian mould in +which his frame was cast, and it was, apparently, a matter which +alternately depressed and pleased him. + +“Well, sir, how do you like me?” he said without a smile, though there +was a twinkle of malicious joy in his brown eyes. “I’ve known people +to faint the first time they’ve seen me, especially romantical +people.” + +“I sha’n’t faint,” smiled Dick, “possibly because I’m not romantical.” + +The footman came in at that moment, and evidently romance tinged his +soul, for at the sight of the strange, long-armed man he visibly +staggered and blinked. + +“Take Mr. Puttler up to his room. Afterward, Puttler, come and dine +and I have something to tell you.” + +The dazed Thomas led the way up the stairs to a room next door to that +occupied by Dick. The housekeeper had been warned of his coming and +the room was ready. He deposited his suitcase and took stock of his +rather handsome surroundings. + +“Is there anything further I can do, sir?” asked Thomas. + +Sergeant Puttler blinked at him. + +“Nothing, thank you.” And, as Thomas was going: “What do you call +yourself now?” + +“Me, sir--my name is Thomas Luck.” + +Puttler shook his head sadly. + +“Thomas Bad Luck,” he said: “William Hard Lines or Henry Too Bad. Does +your master know that your name is Sleisser and that you’ve done a +stretch in Dartmoor?” + +“No,” said the man sullenly. + +“He will, Thomas--he will,” said the detective gently, and with murder +in his eyes the footman slunk out of the room. + +Mr. Puttler came downstairs purring with satisfaction. + +“Are you sure that is my room, Mr. Alford?” he asked. “Not expecting +the Prince of Wales, are you? I’ve always been ambitious to sleep in a +four-poster bed.… Now, Mr. Alford.” + +“First of all, I must introduce you to my brother. By the way, he is +rather of a nervous disposition, and I’ve told him that you’re a +member of an accountancy firm who has come down to help me with my +books.” + +Mr. Puttler expressed his agreement with this mild form of deception. +He was taken to the big library and formally introduced. Harry +Chelford was so used to the advent of Dick’s extraordinary guests that +he saw nothing unusual in the appearance of the simian Puttler. +Happily, he was near-sighted, and though it was a startling experience +to find himself shaking hands across a very broad desk, which an +ordinary man could not have spanned, he did not realize the cause of +the phenomenon. + +Dick entertained accountants, land agents, an occasional bailiff or +two, so that there was no novelty in the invitation. Learned-looking +strangers came to his table from time to time and were introduced and +passed out of his mind. + +“He will be staying six weeks,” Dick had told him, “and you mustn’t +object to his prowling round the place, because I want to get a true +valuation of the estate, and he has his own peculiar methods.” + +“You might get him to price the Black Abbot,” said Harry, half dourly, +half amused. “What we want, Dick, is not so much a valuer as a good +policeman.” + +Dick Alford thought that the coming guest might fulfil both functions, +but he did not say so. + +He ushered his visitor back to his own little office, carefully closed +the door and sat down at his desk. + +“Now, make yourself comfortable. Do you smoke?” + +Mr. Puttler fumbled in his pocket and produced a black pipe. + +“It’s not very aristocratic,” he apologized, “but I prefer ’bacca to +cigars and cigarettes.” + +“I’ll join you,” said Dick. + +His study had two doors: one that opened into the hall and one into a +side corridor running back to the housekeeper’s room. The two men had +been talking for ten minutes, though, as far as Mr. Puttler was +concerned, his contribution to the discourse was limited to an +occasional question, when Thomas came noiselessly down the side +corridor, peeped into the hall, and walked back to the study door. +There was a look of apprehension upon his lean and shapeless face +which was not without cause. Stooping, he put his eye to the keyhole. +He could just see the end of the settee and the head and shoulders of +the strange visitor. He was holding something in his hand--a +white-handled knife, and was examining it with curiosity. Thomas bent +his head and pressed his ear against the hole. + +Dick’s back was to the door and he was speaking in a lower tone than +usual, and this reacted to the disadvantage of the eavesdropper, for +only a few distinct and intelligible sentences came to him. + +“… might have been somebody admitted to the house by one of the +servants,” was the first thing he heard. A few minutes later, Mr. +Puttler, whose voice was distinct, asked: “Was the window in the +library open?” And he heard Dick say, “Yes,” and add something which +he could not catch. + +The soles and heels of Thomas’s boots were of rubber. He passed into +the hall and made another reconnaissance, then returned to his +listening post, in time to hear Dick say: + +“My brother hasn’t an enemy in the world.… I am afraid I can’t say the +same.…” + +Once the listener caught the word “treasure” and once he heard the +name of “Arthur Gwyn,” but in what association he could not learn. +Again Thomas visited the hall. He could not take the risk of being +seen listening at the door. He was free from observation so far as he +knew. The old Chelford butler was in the servants’ hall. Dick and his +brother did not lunch till two, an unholy hour from the point of view +of servants, but very suitable for Dick and his peculiar occupation. + +He squinted through the keyhole again. The detective still had the +knife in his hand and was looking at it intently. He heard him say, +“This is new,” and then Dick entered upon a long and apparently +explanatory statement, not a word of which came to the disgusted man +who was listening. He was most anxious to hear some reference to +himself, but, if it was made, he did not overhear his name. + +Soon after, however, a familiar phrase caught his ear. Dick Alford was +talking about the Black Abbot, and he heard rather a sketchy +description of that spook. Then his voice dropped again, and +coincident with this Thomas heard the stately footsteps of the butler, +slipped back to the housekeeper’s room, and was busy in the pantry +when the stout Mr. Glover found him. + + + + + XXIV + +The luncheon was not a genial meal. Harry had acquired the +disgraceful habit of bringing a book to his meals, and he was utterly +absorbed in the volume and left Dick and his visitor to carry on a +conversation as though he were not present. + +Mr. Puttler, who was a man of wide experience, was neither embarrassed +by his magnificent surroundings--for Lord Chelford lived in a princely +style, three footmen and a butler waiting upon them--nor did he feel +it necessary to live up to the state in which he found himself. He was +altogether unaffected, had a fund of anecdotes, and could tell funny +stories without apparently enjoying them himself, which is the art of +amusement. Only once did Dick interrupt his brother’s reading. + +“Leslie is coming to tea,” he said. “She ’phoned over just before +lunch.” + +Harry Chelford looked up and his face fell. + +“That is very unfortunate,” he said. “I had promised myself an +uninterrupted afternoon with Fra Hickler. I’ve just had a facsimile +edition sent to me from Leipzig. Hickler, you remember, Dick, was a +cloistered monk in the days of Elizabeth, our abbey being one of the +few that was not interfered with by Henry the Eighth or by Elizabeth +either; partly, I think, because our particular order of monks were +antagonistic to the Jesuits.…” + +Dick listened patiently, and when his brother had exhausted the +history of the Black Fathers of Chelfordbury-- + +“You’ll have to be civil and come to tea, and after that I’ve no doubt +Leslie will not object to your going back to Fra Hickler, who was a +German, I presume?” + +“He was a German,” said Harry gravely. “And the circumstances which +brought him to Chelfordbury were rather peculiar.” + +“The best German I ever read about”--it was Mr. Puttler who +interrupted--“was Robinson Crusoe.” + +Dick thought it was a crude jest on the part of his guest, but, if it +was so, Mr. Puttler was unconscious of his humour. Harry stared at the +“accountant.” He took such statements as these very seriously indeed. + +“I am not well acquainted with Robinson Crusoe,” he said, “but surely +you are wrong in saying that he was a German? I have always regarded +such characters as typically English.” + +“He was a German,” said Mr. Puttler firmly, “though few people are +aware of the fact. If you look at the first page of the story you’ll +see these words: ‘My father was a merchant of Bremen,’ and Bremen’s in +Germany, or I’m a Dutchman. And if his father was a German, he was a +German, because there was no such thing as naturalization in those +days.” + +Having dropped his literary thunderbolt, Puttler was prepared to take +up the subject which Dick had interrupted by his question. + +“The trouble with church music, Mr. Alford, is that it’s a little too +sugary. It appeals to the senses. I’ve had many an argument with my +brother churchwardens----” + +“Are you a churchwarden?” asked Dick, in surprise. + +Again the gleam of laughter in the man’s deep-set eyes. + +“It’s hard to believe,” he said modestly, “but I am.” + +Soon after this, Harry left the table, and was gone five minutes when +he returned with a fat volume under his arm. + +“You’re right, Mr.----” + +“Puttler,” suggested Dick. + +“You’re right about Robinson Crusoe. What an extraordinary fact, to +think that one has lived all one’s life under such a mistaken +impression!” + +This evidence of literary skill on the part of the visitor brought a +remarkable change in Harry’s attitude. Before, Puttler might have had +no existence. He was one with the milkman, the grocer, and the village +postman. + +He took Puttler affectionately by the arm and led him into the +library, and there Dick left them, knowing exactly the course of +instruction that Mr. Puttler would receive; for Harry’s first act was +to unlock his desk and take out the Diary. He was relieved to have +Puttler off his hands for an hour or two. Dick that day was +experiencing a sense of unbelievable relief. A great burden had been +lifted from his shoulders, and one of his more pressing and secret +troubles had been half dissipated. + +He ran halfway down the drive to meet Leslie’s car, and leapt on the +running-board while the car was moving. + +“Practising for a tram-conductor,” he said cheerily. “I’ve decided on +my profession, when you arrive at Fossaway Manor, mistress of all +these demesnes.” + +“When will that be, Dick?” she asked, looking steadily ahead. + +“Never, I hope.” + +In his lightness of heart he had not kept that usual guard on his +tongue, and the words were out before he could stop them. Twice he had +been taken off his guard, and he would have given anything to unsay +his words. + +Apparently she did not attach any great significance to them, for she +did not turn her head, sending the car spinning to the broad gravelled +place before the old porch. He jumped down when she stopped the +machine and helped her alight. + +“I have to prepare you for a curious bird,” he said, and described Mr. +Puttler with more truth than flattery. + +“What is he, Dick?” + +“He’s an accountant,” said Dick glibly. “He’s also quite an amusing +fellow and full of weird information. I’m going to try a little on +you. Do you know that Robinson Crusoe was a German?” + +“Why, of course, his father lived in Bremen,” she said, and he was +still laughing when he took her into the library. + +In the presence of his fiancée Lord Chelford exhibited a nervousness +and a _gaucherie_ which might have been understandable if he were +meeting her for the first time. He had never quite overcome the +novelty of his engagement, and his attitude toward her was one of awe +rather than of reverence. + +“How do you do, Leslie?” + +He had never kissed her in his life; now he held her hand for a +fraction of a second and dropped it as though it burnt him. + +“Do you know Mr. Tuttler?” + +“Puttler,” said the other, and Leslie looked into the melancholy eyes +and read something in them that Dick had missed, and possibly Mr. +Puttler’s closest associate had not seen. + +She did not pay him the poor compliment of feeling sorry for him, +though she read in those quick-lighting deeps a craving for woman’s +sympathy which nature, by her cruel handiwork, had repelled in +advance. + +“Glad to know you, Miss Gwyn. I know your brother--Mr. Arthur Gwyn, +the solicitor, isn’t it? I thought so.” + +“Has Arthur come?” asked Harry. + +“No,” said Dick. “We’re going to have tea in the drawing-room. Will +you come along, Harry?” + +“Surely, surely,” he said hastily. “You’ll excuse me, dear----” It was +an effort to employ even so banal an expression of affection. + +When they reached the beautiful drawing-room, with its windows open to +the terrace, and a riot of gorgeous sulphur chrysanthemums showing +above the stone balustrade, they found they were alone. Mr. Puttler +had melted away as they were passing through the hall. He explained, +afterward, that he wanted to stroll through the gardens, but the girl +knew that the man’s uncanny instinct had told him that, of all the +people in the world, these two were satisfied best with each other’s +company. + +“Did you sleep?” she asked. + +He nodded. + +“I didn’t get up till lunch time,” he said. “And you?” + +She shook her head. + +“No, I couldn’t sleep. Poor Arthur!” + +“Did you try beefsteak?” he asked brutally. “Really, the most +incongruous company I can imagine is a black eye and Arthur Gwyn!” + +“He is awfully shaken,” she said seriously. “I have never known him to +be so upset. It _was_ Mr. Gilder.” + +“I knew,” said Dick, “or, at least, I guessed. Did you find out the +cause of the quarrel?” + +She hesitated. + +“I don’t know; I think it was something to do with me.” + +“What was Gilder doing at your house?” + +“Arthur didn’t tell me,” she replied. “From what he said I gather that +Mr. Gilder had been watching Arthur and had followed him somewhere.” + +“To the Abbey ruins--yes, that is quite possible. And of course your +brother objected to that, naturally. Why are they watching each +other?” + +“Is Arthur watching Gilder?” she asked in surprise. + +“It almost looks like it. Leslie, I want to tell you something that +nobody else knows, not even Harry. It may bring a little ease to your +mind in the dark hours of the night. Puttler is a detective, a +Scotland Yard man.” + +She stared at him. + +“A detective? Why on earth----?” + +“Things have been happening that I don’t very much like,” said Dick. +“I’ve been worried nearly sick about them, and though I’m quite +capable of dealing with most contingencies, the Lord has ordained that +I should take seven hours’ rest in every twenty-four, and there must +be somebody awake when I’m asleep.” + +“The Black Abbot--is that what is worrying you?” + +He bit his lip thoughtfully. + +“Yes and no. Some aspects of the Black Abbot’s activities trouble me +more than I should like to confess. Leslie, do you believe in the +treasure?” + +“The Chelford treasure?” she asked, in surprise. “And what do you mean +by believing in it? It is true that the gold was brought to Fossaway +Manor in olden times, isn’t it?” + +“Perfectly true,” said Dick, “and perfectly true, I should imagine, +that it was taken away. But do you believe that it has any existence, +that it can be found? Suppose one dug up every square inch of the +park, pulled down this old house of ours, probed into the bowels of +the earth, do you think it is possible that the gold could be found? +Because, if you don’t, there are other people who do besides Harry.” + +“Do you believe?” she challenged. + +He heaved a deep sigh. + +“Heaven knows, I’m ready to believe anything! And I thought I should +never drag down my lofty intelligence to such deeps. But, Leslie, my +dear, I am getting----” He paused for a word. + +“Convinced?” + +“Not exactly convinced, but shaken in my obstinacy. I’ve become a +doubter of my own scepticism, and that’s the worst mental condition a +man can reach--or almost the worst,” he added. + +“Does Harry know you are a convert?” Her fine eyes twinkled with +mischief. + +“He suspects me,” said Dick gloomily. “If I thought the money was +here----” + +She regarded him steadily. + +“Would it make a big difference to you, Dick?” she asked. + +“Me personally?” He shook his head. “Lord, no! It would make a +difference to the----” He paused. “To Harry. I was going to say the +estate. The estate, to me, is something distinct from any personality. +It stands for the agglomeration of dead men’s efforts, the cumulative +sum of all their strivings.” + +She looked at him for a long time in wonder. She loved him in this +serious mood of his. + +“You’ve made rather a fetish of Fossaway Manor and the Chelford +estates, haven’t you?” + +“Have I?” He was genuinely surprised. “I wonder…” And then he laughed. +“It isn’t a bad line for a second son to exalt the estates to which he +will never succeed, above the personality of the man who will get it! +It makes him rather superior to the real heir. Put my fetish worship +down to vanity, for the Lord knows I have my share of that.” + +“I doubt it,” she said quietly. “Come out on to the terrace. Your +flowers are lovely.” + +“‘Everything in the garden----’” he began, but she checked him with a +warning finger. + +“If you get banal I shall go in and find Puttler.” + + + + + XXV + +She leaned on the gray stone balustrade and looked down upon the +wind-stirred tresses of great golden chrysanthemums, each as big as a +large-sized saucer. They were not all gold; there were deep red blooms +and snowy white and flaming orange, and beyond them a huge bed of +late-flowering roses; even from this distance, she could catch the +delicate fragrance of them. + +“It’s a beautiful old place,” she said in a hushed voice. “I don’t +wonder that you love it. How long has your family owned this estate, +Dick?” + +“Eight hundred years,” he said. “The first of the Chelfords sliced off +the head of the original owner and stole the property. Successive +generations of Chelfords, whose own heads were cut off with monotonous +regularity, enclosed a few thousand acres of common land belonging to +the people--and there you are!” + +She laughed softly. + +“You have very few illusions, have you?” + +“None,” was his curt reply, and somehow the answer hurt her. + +They had to send twice for Harry before he put in an appearance, and +he seemed disappointed to find that Puttler was not there. + +“That is quite an intelligent fellow, Dick,” he said, delicately +spearing a cucumber sandwich. “He has an extraordinary knowledge of +history, particularly English history. Unfortunately, he doesn’t read +German” [Harry read German as well as he read English, French, or +Italian] “but I have persuaded him to take up the study. Have you +everything you want, Leslie?” + +He had helped her to nothing, and was happy to find that her +requirements had been supplied. Only twice he spoke to her: once to +ask about Arthur, and the other time when he made an oblique reference +to his forthcoming marriage. + +“Marriage ceremonies and the pomp of them are a little indelicate, I +think. It is a barbarous custom, these veils and bridesmaids and +barbaric orange-blossoms. Now in America I am told that it is quite +the usual thing to be married in a drawing-room. I’m sure that could +be arranged, couldn’t it, Dick? The bishop is quite an obliging old +gentleman.” + +“Turn Puttler on him: he’s an authority on church ritual,” said Dick. + +“The man is an authority on most things,” said Harry, with +unaccustomed enthusiasm. “He was telling me that possibly there was +some cryptogram in existence which would give a direct clue as to the +treasure.” And then, seeing the half smile on the girl’s face, he gave +one of his rare boyish laughs. “We are still chasing shadows, Leslie, +but it is a very substantial shadow, believe me. Now, Puttler thinks…” + +They listened without comment to Puttler’s views, which in this case +were neither informative nor particularly brilliant. + +“Puttler’s mind apparently runs to dungeons, and there are dungeons to +this place,” said Harry vigorously. “I am going to have a look round +to-morrow. There are probably secret places under the floor which +might be profitably examined.” + +“The dungeons, as you call them, are wine cellars,” said Dick +ominously; “and if Puttler goes fooling around my port there will be +trouble! Besides which, Harry, I don’t suppose there has been a single +ancestor of ours who hasn’t dug up the floor of that unfortunate +dungeon--one of them in the days of the Regency had the walls +stripped, and the beggar never replaced the stone. It cost our father +the best part of a thousand pounds to repair the damage done by this +old gold-hound!” + +Dick noticed that whilst Harry was present the girl’s manner was just +a little strained and unreal, and she was nervous, too, started when +she was addressed, and was content to listen without including herself +in the conversation. It was not until Harry had gone, with a lame +apology, back to the library that she became her real self again, and +the old Leslie crept forth from its hiding place. Once, whilst he and +his brother were discussing the affair of the dungeons, she had walked +on to the terrace, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her in +profile, a slim, frail-looking girl, with her delicate face and her +glorious hair, and in the setting she looked almost ethereal. It was +as though some old masterpiece of Botticelli had come to life. + +When the door had closed on Harry she came back and sat down with a +little grimace. + +“Was it very rude of me to go out? Dicky, I can’t work up any interest +in the things that really fascinate Harry! Whatever will he talk about +when the treasure is found?” + +“The treasure? Oh, you mean the gold? He will probably talk about +you.” + +She made a little moue. + +“I’m too young to be interesting to Harry, three hundred years too +young,” she said. “Now tell me about your detective. I liked what I +saw of him. He is to be your little guardian angel? And, Dick, will he +have a beat--is that the word? Because, if he has, I do hope he’ll +take in Willow House. I’ll even lend him my car.” + +“Are you really frightened?” + +She thought for a while before she replied. + +“I think I am,” she said. “When I was a child the first air raids +fascinated me, the second were interesting, but after the third or +fourth they became--just air raids. And the Black Abbot--well, he’s +very picturesque, Dick, but he’s rather terrifying. Didn’t you tell me +that Harry feared him?” + +“He does a little.” + +“Why, I wonder?” + +“Harry is naturally of a nervous temperament,” said Dick. “People are +born that way, and it is absurd to talk of ‘cowardice’ where they are +concerned. Now I was born without the knowledge of nerves, and I +daresay if you saw me chasing the Black Abbot you would think I was +terribly brave. As a matter of fact, it is simply because I’ve no +imagination.” + +“That isn’t true,” she said. “Why do you always belittle yourself?” + +“Because I am by nature excessively modest,” he said gravely, and at +that moment they caught sight of Mr. Puttler strolling through the +long lines of rose trees that ran parallel with the eastern wing. +Together they went down the terrace steps and intercepted him. + +“It is a lovely place,” said Mr. Puttler, shaking his head in +admiration. “I’ve never seen so many roses together in my life, except +at Covent Garden Market, and they’re not roses, they’re just +merchandise.” + +“I’ve told Miss Gwyn that you’re a detective, Puttler.” + +Puttler frowned at this. + +“You know Miss Gwyn better than I do,” he said good-humouredly. +“Speaking for myself, I find that life is much easier to live if you +keep your mouth shut. Not,” he added hastily, “that I want to be +offensive. That’s only my way of reasoning and my way of talking. +There used to be an officer in our division who rose from the rank of +plain police constable to superintendent by the simple process of +never saying anything to anybody. If he was asked for his opinion on a +matter he used to shake his head and say there was much to be said on +both sides but he had his own private opinion, and even when he was +called into a case he’d say nothing, but listen to what everybody else +said and smile. That smile was worth a thousand a year to him.” + +They crossed the rose garden and were strolling across the lawn. Under +a huge elm Mr. Puttler stopped to continue a story which was fated +never to be finished. + +“One day the superintendent said to this man, whose name was Carter, +‘Carter,’ he said, ‘I can’t understand----’” + +_Crack!_ + +A bullet snicked past the detective’s face, struck the bole of the +tree, and sent the bark splintering. From a clump of rhododendron +bushes two hundred yards away floated a pale blue cloud. + +“Down on your face!” said Dick hoarsely, and dragged the girl to the +ground, only just in time. + +_Crack!_ + +The second bullet struck a little lower. A splinter of bark hummed +past the girl’s ear. + +“There’s someone in those bushes who doesn’t like me,” said Mr. +Puttler. + +Pulling a long-barrelled Browning from his pocket and bending low, he +sprinted toward the bushes, zigzagging as he ran. + +A third shot rang out and the running man pitched forward on his face +and lay still. + + + + + XXVI + +Dick flew forward to the prostrate figure, and, kneeling by his +side, turned him on his back. His eyelids were working spasmodically, +but there was no sign of injury, except a bruise on the side of his +face which had been caused by his coming violently into contact with +the ground. And then Dick saw the man’s right boot. The sole had been +ripped off and there was a patch of blood showing on the toe of the +sock. At the sound of a rustling skirt Dick turned his head. The girl +was coming toward them. + +“Go back behind that tree and don’t move,” he shouted authoritatively, +but for once she did not obey him. + +She was rather pale, but there was no other evidence of fear, as she +knelt by his side and began to unfasten the collar of the stricken +man. + +“He’s stunned. I don’t think it’s anything worse than that,” said +Dick. “I thought at first he was finished--look at his boot!” + +He was pulling it off gingerly and the operation must have hurt a +little, because the detective winced and opened his eyes. + +“Hullo! What has happened?” he asked, looking round. “Did that bird +shoot me?” + +“I don’t think he’s hurt you very much.” Dick was looking at the foot. +The bullet had ricochetted, cutting a shallow gash on the man’s +instep, but there was no other injury. + +“Do you feel fit enough to look after Miss Gwyn?” said Dick. + +The detective reached round for the gun he had dropped and humped +himself to his feet. Without another word, Dick raced across the +grass-land to the bushes, and the girl watched him in terror, +expecting every second to hear the fourth and the fatal shot. + +After five minutes he emerged from the bushes, holding something in +his hand which he was examining curiously as he walked toward them. + +“A Lee-Enfield rifle, army pattern,” he said. “I found these shells.” + +He put them into the detective’s hand. Puttler examined the exploded +cartridges carefully. + +“You didn’t see him, of course?” he said. + +“No, I think he must have got round to the back of the house. The +bushes ran practically from the west wing of Fossaway Manor to the end +of the Mound. He might of course be still hidden in the bushes, but +the probability is that he made his getaway as soon as he saw you +fall,” said Dick. “I think we’d better go inside and I will find you a +pair of shoes, unless you have a spare supply.” + +They were halfway to the house when they met Lord Chelford. + +“Who was that shooting?” he asked irritably. “Dick, I told you that I +did not want rabbit shooting or any other kind of shooting within half +a mile of the house. It gets on my nerves terribly. Really, I think +you must show a little more consideration.” + +The girl had opened her lips to explain when Dick caught her eye, and +with splendid mendacity she invented a hurried but effective excuse. + +“My fault, Harry. I saw a stoat, and I hate stoats.” + +The fact that none of them carried a rifle was unnoticed by Harry. + +“Well, of course…” He was obviously taken back by her championship. +“If that’s the case it can’t be helped. Only in future, Dick, old +boy…” + +He walked rapidly back to the house. + +“Why shouldn’t he be told?” asked Leslie. Then, realizing the +foolishness of the question, she was all penitence. “There is no +reason why he should be, of course. I was silly to suggest it. But, +Dick, who did such a terrible thing? It couldn’t have been an +accident.” + +“It wasn’t an accident: of that I can assure you,” said Mr. Puttler, +nursing his injury. “The first two shots that were fired hit the tree +within three inches of each other. Are you going to notify the local +police, Mr. Alford?” + +Dick thought for a moment, then decided against that course, and to +Leslie’s surprise the detective approved. + +“I think you’re right,” said Puttler. “Where is the nearest rifle +range?” + +“About fifteen miles away,” said Dick sardonically. “You needn’t +follow that line of thought.” + +“I’m not following any line of thought,” said the detective. “I’m only +foreseeing possible alibis. I spend my life standing in front of +alibis and waving a red flag.” + +Through the tan, Dick’s face was gray. He seemed suddenly to have gone +old, and Leslie looked at him anxiously. + +“Dick, at whom were they shooting?” + +“I don’t know that they were shooting at anybody,” he said wearily. +“They just loosed off a few rounds to scare us.” + +And then he laughed; it was a fierce, hard little laugh, and she +winced at the sound of it. + +“I am thinking of Harry and his nerves, and the stoat and every damned +ridiculous---- I beg your pardon, Leslie; I’m afraid I’m getting +rattled.” + +She smiled at this. + +“Dick, will you say good-bye to Harry for me? I promised my brother I +would come home early. No, really, you need not take me. I’m not at +all afraid of being held up by armed desperadoes!” + +“Neither am I,” said Dick, “but I don’t fancy you overmuch as a +driver.” + +And in her annoyance at this false accusation she forgot to resist his +escort. + +By the time he had returned to the house, Puttler had secured a +dressing for his foot. The injury was so slight that he could resume +his shoes, and pooh-poohed the suggestion that he had better lie up +that night. + +“It was a narrow escape,” he said, “but I’m rather glad I got that +bullet, and that it didn’t go where it was intended.” + +Dick looked at him steadily. + +“For whom was it intended?” he asked. + +Without hesitation came the reply: + +“For Miss Leslie Gwyn: I thought you knew that.” + +Dick could find no answer, but in his heart of hearts he knew that +Puttler was speaking the truth. + + + + + XXVII + +Mr. Fabrian Gilder, sometime head clerk to the firm of Gwyn & Gwyn, +and now a gentleman of leisure, was in one sense a hard man. He did +not forgive even slight injuries, and in the past had gone a long way +out of his path to get even with those who had the misfortune to +affront him. And Arthur Gwyn had offended beyond hope of forgiveness. +A few days before, Gilder would have thought it a very simple matter +to be revenged upon his enemy; but now the simple process of laying an +information and of preferring a charge of forgery was contingent upon +four bills which were in his possession being repudiated by the man +who was alleged to have backed them. + +He could do no more than present those interesting documents, and this +he did through his bank. Dick had already made arrangements for their +redemption. It was not entirely an act of philanthropy on his part, +for he was a business man, and took over from the frankly reluctant +Mr. Gwyn the choice of a number of unsalable shares which Dick +regarded as having a certain value. The bills, which had been renewed +from time to time, were met, and that ended Mr. Gilder’s chance of +carrying his threat into execution. + +He was the type of man who thrived on opposition. Though it would be +true to say that he had fallen in love with Leslie Gwyn the first time +he had seen her, which was months before that unpleasant scene at his +flat, his desire for her grew as his chance of winning her receded +farther and farther into the background. + +On the night that Dick had found him examining the ruins of the Abbey, +Mr. Gilder had returned to the cut road when he thought the coast was +clear and had discovered yet another in quest of the treasure. He had +witnessed the interview between the two men and had followed Arthur +back to Willow House with no other intention than to offer his help, +for a consideration, in discovering this mythical fortune. For Mr. +Gilder had heard quite enough that day he surprised his employer with +Mary Wenner, to know that somewhere under the Abbey lay either the +fortune or its key. He had overtaken Arthur on the drive, and Arthur +was in an unpleasant mood: hot with the man at the interruption of his +search, smarting under the sting of Dick Alford’s sarcasm. + +At first, startled by the unexpected apparition of his head clerk, +Arthur had snarled round on him, and there and then discharged him +from his service and defied him to do his worst. It was Gilder who had +struck the first blow. + +When Arthur was in his more unpleasant moods he said things that no +self-respecting man could endure, and the black eye which the lawyer +nursed was an advertisement of his indiscretion. + +Gilder might be a bookmaker, but he was not a thief. At least, “thief” +was rather an extravagant description of his duplicity. He went back +to London half crazy with rage, but a day in bed restored his mental +equilibrium and he sat down to plan how best he could frustrate any +plans which his late employer had formed for gaining possession of the +treasure. By this time Gilder, too, was convinced; his last doubts +removed. He had been sceptical as to the treasure’s existence, but he +knew such things had happened, and he had a natural desire to be in +any scheme which produced immediately and without great labour a vast, +undreamed-of sum. + +His cut lip healed in a few hours, though it was still swollen, and +toward the evening of the second day after his retirement from the +firm of Gwyn & Gwyn, he dressed himself with great care, and, calling +a taxi, drove to an address he had once scribbled on his white +shirt-cuff. + +Mary Wenner occupied a tiny flat, every compartment of which might +have been contained in one large-sized room. It was perched on the top +floor of an apartment house near Baker Street--37, Cranston Mansions. +She enjoyed an uninterrupted view of the Metropolitan Railway and such +shunting operations as are carried out in that busy centre, and she +was as a rule free from callers; for there were no elevators in the +house, and to climb up four steep flights of stairs was something of +an undertaking. + +Mr. Gilder was not strong for physical exertion and cursed the +parsimonious builder who had neglected to put in this easy method of +transportation. Nevertheless, he climbed, and presently was ringing at +the polished bell of No. 135. + +Mary had a daily servant, who was a charwoman in the morning, a +parlour-maid in the afternoon, and her own natural self after six, at +which hour she left for the night. This aged woman, with her dingy +white cap askew, opened the door and took the card in to her mistress, +leaving Mr. Gilder on the mat. She came back with an ingratiating +smile, and pointed to the room where Mary was to be found. + +“This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Gilder,” said Miss Wenner +conventionally. “I’m sure I never thought that you would be as good as +your word. Sit down, won’t you?” + +She really was pretty, he observed; in her plain house dress she was +prettier than in a more elaborate attire. The flat, though small, was +well but not expensively furnished. It left him with the impression +that she had bought everything with her own money and he had rather a +nice feeling toward her in consequence. For Fabrian Gilder was a queer +mixture of Puritan and adventurer. Later, Mary had her flat to thank +for certain pleasant developments. + +There was only one chair on which he could sit, and this he took. + +“You’d like a cup of tea? I’m just going to have mine,” said Miss +Wenner. “I’ve been out all day shopping and everything.” + +“Are you--er--working?” asked Gilder delicately. + +“No, I’m not in business,” replied Miss Wenner, more correctly. Only +common people “work”: the gentility “go to business.” + +She went out, disappearing into a mysterious cupboard, which had just +enough room for a tiny kitchen table and a gas stove, and he heard the +rattle of cup against saucer, the _plomp!_ of a gas ring being +lighted, and after a while she came back, a little flushed and +apologetic. + +“Maids are so stupid, aren’t they?” she asked. “You can never trust +these common daily people. I had an awfully nice maid but she went +away and got married, the stupid child!” + +She received very few visitors, she told him. Her “sewing woman” came +twice a week. She had a very dear friend--a girl, she hastened to +assure him--who spent Tuesday evenings with her and sometimes slept in +the flat. But a male visitor was the rarest of phenomena. + +“You can’t be too careful,” said Miss Wenner primly. “A girl’s +character is her principal asset--don’t you agree Mr. Gilder?” + +Mr. Gilder agreed. + +“That is what I have always said about my work with Harry--excuse me, +I mean Lord Chelford, only we were such awfully good friends that I’ve +never dreamt of calling him anything but by his Christian name.” + +“And did you call Richard Alford by his Christian name?” asked Mr. +Gilder, not without malice. + +Her nose went up in the air. + +“Him!” she said contemptuously. “I don’t take any more notice of him +than I do of any of the other upper servants! He’s educated and all +that--went to Eton and Harrow” (even Mr. Gilder winced at this) “but +you judge a man by his manners and not by his education. There’s no +doubt at all that Dick Alford has the manners of a pig!” + +She said this with feeling and no little vehemence. Mr. Gilder, who +knew something of the circumstances, understood and almost +sympathized. + +“I was going to say that down at Fossaway I often felt that it wasn’t +right to be in that big house with no lady there except the +housekeeper, who of course is a servant, and---- Oh! here you are, +Gladys!” + + + + + XXVIII + +She rose as Gladys brought in the tea tray and laid it carefully on +the table. Gladys was sixty, toothless, and more or less chinless. She +wore most of her hair in a bun, which overflowed, drooping over her +neck in picturesque confusion. Gladys had the smile of one who enjoyed +the privilege of entertaining a visitor. She smiled at the girl, +smiled at Mr. Gilder, and smiled herself out of the room. Fabrian +Gilder thought he had never seen a more ghastly exhibition. + +“You’re a good friend of Gwyn’s, aren’t you?” he asked, as he sipped +his tea. + +She dropped her eyes in maidenly embarrassment. + +“We are rather good friends, but no more. We may be something +closer--who knows? He has always behaved like a perfect gentleman and +treated me like a lady. I must say that for Arthur. But he’s a little +trying; don’t you find him so?” she asked, with a girlish naïveté +that was a little overdone. + +“I have left him,” said Mr. Gilder briefly. “He and I disagreed over a +question of policy and I retired. In fact, we had a very bad row and +came to blows--I tell you this because you’ll probably learn the facts +from him sooner or later.” + +Mary was shocked; and when Mary was shocked she covered her rather +generous mouth with her two small white hands. + +“You don’t tell me!” she said in a hushed voice. “Blows! Is that it?” +She nodded her head to his lip. + +“That’s it,” said Gilder shortly. + +“Blows!” repeated Mary Wenner. “How perfectly disgusting and vulgar!” + +“I wanted to talk to you about Arthur Gwyn,” Gilder broke in upon her +horrified wonder. “We’re not good friends, but that doesn’t mean I +bear him any malice. But, naturally, as we are parted, I don’t feel +called upon to protect him and stand between him and his dupes”--he +emphasized the last word--“as I have done in the past. You know him as +well as I do,” he went on, as she was about to speak. “You know his +vanity; you know how perfectly unreliable and insincere he is; you +know, too, that he’d get out of any promise he ever made, even if it +was in black and white.” + +He was watching her narrowly all the time he spoke, and now he saw her +eyebrows arch. + +“Indeed?” she said coldly. “I don’t know anything about the law, but I +can’t see how a gentleman, or a common man for the matter of that, +could get out of--what is the expression--legal obligations?” + +“Then you don’t know Arthur Gwyn as well as I do,” he said. “But that +is beside the point. I haven’t come here to blackguard him or to make +him look smaller in your eyes. Not that I could,” he said, +anticipating her protest a little ambiguously. “But I believe in a +girl having a square deal, especially a working girl who may have +nobody in the world to look after her interests. And I tell you that +that fellow couldn’t go straight if he was fired from a gun. Now, what +about the Chelford treasure?” + +At the words she sat bolt upright, and a look of blank astonishment +came to her face. + +“Do you know?” she gasped. + +“Of course I know! You’re going to help him find the gold, and in +return----” He paused. + +That was exactly what he had come to find out. What obligation had +Arthur undertaken in return for the information she would give him? +And he was pretty sure of his ground. He knew the girl; had had some +dealings with her when she was with Chelford; and since he lived on +his knowledge of human beings, he had analyzed her with more or less +accuracy. He knew her vanity, her ambition; had heard something of her +summary discharge from Fossaway Manor. There was only one reward that +Arthur Gwyn could offer. + +“He has promised to marry you,” he said, and he was not altogether +drawing a bow at a venture. + +“Did he tell you that?” she said, with a little catch in her voice. “I +hope you don’t think, Mr. Gilder, that I’ve thrown myself at his head? +That I wouldn’t do for the best man in the world.” She looked at him +thoughtfully, and added: “Old or young. I trust Arthur as a gentleman +to fulfil any promise he has made. I am going to do something for him +that will make all the difference in the world----” + +“When is he going to marry you? After the treasure is discovered, I +suppose?” + +She nodded. + +“He will have to marry me then,” she said. + +“I realize that. You’re a girl that has to make her way in the world +without influence, and possibly without friends.” Mr. Gilder knew he +was on the right tack here. “He can offer you a position and you can +offer him money. After all, that is exactly what his sister is doing, +and nobody thinks any worse of her for that.” + +“Exactly,” murmured Miss Wenner, who had never seen the matter in that +light before. + +“The point I want to make is this,” he went on: “What bond has he +given you?” + +“His word of honour,” said Miss Wenner dramatically. + +“I daresay. But what valuable bond has he given you?” + +“I’ll show you.” + +She went into the next room, which was evidently her bedroom, and, +returning with her bag, placed it on her knee, opened the flap, and +took out, amongst other things, a slip of paper, which she passed +across to Mr. Gilder. He read it at a glance, noted the careful +emendation which Arthur had made, and passed it back. + +“That is valueless,” he said, and her face fell. “What is to prevent +his going to Chelford and striking a bargain with him? Where do you +come in then? Besides, this is what is known in law as a promise under +duress--that is to say, under compulsion. If he is acting in the +interests of his client, he can plead that he had to make this promise +in order to secure information which you were illegally withholding.” + +She stared at him. + +“It’s not illegal to know and not to tell?” + +He nodded. + +“To know of the existence of hidden treasure and to withhold your +information is a crime in some countries, and I daresay it is in +England. But that’s beside the point. Where do you come in, Miss +Wenner?” + +She bit her lip thoughtfully. + +“I never saw it in that way,” she confessed. “What can I do, Mr. +Gilder?” + +He felt inclined to offer the obvious solution, “Get him to marry you +first,” but changed his mind. Mary Wenner married would be a useless +ally. + +At the back of his mind he was certain that this rather vulgar +girl--for he had a nice and finicking taste in the matter of +women--had discovered the Chelford millions. If he had not had this +belief he would not have made his call. He believed that by some +accident, or by reason of her close association with Harry Chelford, +she had unveiled the mystery of the lost gold; and his object now was +to discover how far his theory was justified by facts. + +“Is there no way of making that agreement more binding, Mr. Gilder?” +she asked. “You’re a lawyer--couldn’t you draw up something he +wouldn’t wriggle out of? Naturally, I’m too much of a lady to want any +man to marry me, if he doesn’t want to marry me. If he just hinted as +much I should tell him to go--I should simply say, ‘Oh, very well, I’m +not at all anxious to marry, thank you very much.’ I think a girl who +throws herself at a man’s head is despicable, don’t you, Mr. Gilder?” + +He did not answer this query. + +“I could draw you up an agreement that would be legally binding, but I +doubt if even that would help you. Why trust him at all?” he asked +bluntly. + +She dropped her eyes at this. + +“Who--or rather whom--could I trust?” she asked, and took an invisible +crumb off her dress. “This is such an awful world, and men are so very +deceitful, Mr. Gilder. The young ones are the worst, of course, but +they haven’t experience. I do think that a man isn’t in the prime of +life till he’s about forty-five.” She waited. “Or fifty. He’s sort of +settled down and sowed his wild oats, and he doesn’t want to go out at +nights and all that. And I’ll admit that Arthur is flighty. I wouldn’t +tell it to anybody but you, but he tried to kiss me any number of +times, and he once said the most terrible thing to me at Fossaway +Manor. I said to him: ‘Arthur, you seem to forget that you’re speaking +to a lady,’ and he just curled up and died, if you understand me. I +don’t mean that he actually perished----” + +“I understand what you mean,” said Gilder, and went on to make his +most startling revelation. “Now, listen, Miss Wenner. You’re a +sensible girl and I can talk to you as I could talk to very few +people.” + +This _cliché_ of intensive flattery, which so seldom fails even when +employed upon intelligent people, produced in Miss Wenner the strained +attentiveness which was called for. + +“Suppose I tell you,” said Fabrian Gilder darkly, “that Gwyn is +already trying to anticipate your discovery?” + +“I beg your pardon?” Mary Wenner was not very strong on the more +flowery expressions of speech. + +“Suppose he’s trying to get ahead of you--trying to find the gold +without your assistance?” + +“He wouldn’t dare!” she gasped. + +Mr. Gilder nodded very slowly, very deliberately. + +“He has already tried,” he said. “Two nights ago I was watching him, +suspecting his plan. He went at three o’clock in the morning to the +ruins of Chelford Abbey, and he took with him a crowbar.…” + +Whilst he was speaking, the red in her face deepened and the +wide-opened eyes grew brighter. + +“The hound!” she breathed. “The twisting, double-faced monkey!” + +It was not a ladylike expression, but for the moment she was superior +to shame. + +“The dirty, thieving, twisting sneak! To the Abbey--with a crowbar! +I’ll take my oath on a Bible that I never breathed a word of where it +was hid--I mean hidden. Let him go with his crowbar--ha-ha!” She +laughed shrilly, but gave no other evidence of supreme amusement. +“I’ll crowbar him! Let him search and scrape and dig and see what he +can find.” + +He tried to soothe her, but for the moment her soul was breaking in +tumultuous waves upon the muddy flats of Arthur’s duplicity. + +“He has deceived me! I don’t mean in an unladylike way--I mean--you +know what I mean, Mr. Gilder? I trusted that man. I gave him all my +heart.” The sob came naturally, but it was largely due to intensified +annoyance. “I gave him all that a woman could give a man--information +I mean, Mr. Gilder. I don’t want you to get any wrong ideas about me, +because I’ve always behaved like a lady, and nobody can point their +fingers of scorn at me.” + +She grew calm after a while. + +“Who can you trust?” she asked bitterly. “Who--can--you--trust?” + +“You can trust me.” Fabrian Gilder’s voice was very gentle, almost +pleading. + +He was rather a good-looking man, she observed; his gray hair gave him +distinction. + +“You wouldn’t want a legal document from me.…” + +“Yes, I would,” she said obstinately. “I don’t trust men.” + +“You shall have any document you wish. I will even go as far as +compromising myself hopelessly.” + +She coughed. + +“I don’t think I should go quite as far as that,” she said, +misunderstanding him. + +“I mean that I would take the risk of detection without safeguarding +myself as Arthur Gwyn has done.” + +She dabbed her eyes with her pocket-handkerchief. + +“Of course, Mr. Gilder--I don’t know you very well, but I’m not going +to say that I don’t like you. I’ve always said to Agatha--my Tuesday +friend, as I call her--‘Mr. Gilder’s a perfect gentleman.’ In fact, +I’m--Mr. Gilder, what is your Christian name?” + +“Fabrian,” he said. + +She lingered tenderly over the word and smiled, a wistful sideways +smile. + +“I should call you Fabe, I suppose? It’s a perfectly lovely name.… As +I was saying, I don’t want to throw myself at any man’s head.” + +“Let us go down to-night.” + +Her face changed. + +“To the Abbey--to-night?” + +He nodded. + +“My car will get us down in an hour and a half, and we can wait till +it’s dark; and unless there’s a lot of digging to be done----” + +“There is no digging,” she said. “But to-night?” + +“Why not?” he demanded. “My cottage is less than a mile from the +Abbey. If the gold is there and reachable, we could get away with +enough to make us rich for life.” + +She pondered this, and then: + +“I know you’ll think it horrid of me, Mr. Gilder--Fabe--that does +sound familiar, doesn’t it?--but I would like something in black and +white.” + +There and then Mr. Fabrian Gilder produced a document that was enough, +as he observed jocularly, to hang him, and, reading it, even Mary +Wenner, with her keen instinct for safeguards, was impressed. He wrote +the agreement with his own fountain pen, on paper which he provided, +and he had brought along that pen in his pocket with a view to such a +contingency. It was a new pen, filled with an ink that he had +purchased at a novelty store in Wardour Street, and which was +guaranteed to fade within six hours of writing. + +Miss Wenner read it through, folded it, and put it into her bag, and +disappeared into her bedroom. She came back with the bag, but he +guessed that the agreement was disposed in some safe place. + +“Now, Fabe, what time do you want to start?” + +“At nine-thirty?” he suggested, and she nodded. + +“And don’t trouble to bring a crowbar,” she said a little viciously, +as she remembered Arthur Gwyn’s rank treachery. “I’ll carry all the +tools we want in my bag.” + + + + + XXIX + +The weather had changed that afternoon. Big black clouds had come up +from the west; a steady drizzle of rain had set in when Fabrian Gilder +brought his car to the rendezvous in Marylebone Road. He had pulled up +the hood, and, as a matter of precaution, he had cleared out every +portable thing from the tonneau. If there was gold he must find room +for it, and he made a careful calculation as to the weight he could +carry on each journey. + +He was surprised at himself that he had accepted as a fact so readily +that there was gold to be taken. From the girl he learned for the +first time the extent of the treasure. He had inquired casually of his +garage man the amount of strain the back axle would stand. That was +unnecessary, for he had once driven four fairly heavy men a +considerable journey. Supposing they weighted 170 pounds, that would +be the equivalent of twenty bars of gold. + +It was nearly ten before the girl appeared. She was wearing a long +raincoat and stepped into the seat by his side with a voluble apology. + +“I nearly didn’t come,” she said. “I only just remembered after you’d +gone that awful Black Abbot.” + +He was a little amused. + +“You don’t believe in that kind of hokum, do you?” he asked, as the +car went swiftly down Baker Street. + +“I don’t know.” She was dubious. “He did appear once or twice when I +was at the Manor, but we used to believe that these were villagers’ +stories. According to the newspapers, they’ve seen more of him +lately--ugh!” She shivered. + +He tapped his pocket significantly with his hand. + +“I’ve got something here that’s mighty bad for abbots black or white!” +he said. “Don’t you worry, little girl.” + +“No, Fabe,” she said meekly. + +Very delicately he suggested that she might call him by the Christian +name his parents had given him. There was no diminutive, he explained, +and excused his correction by telling her that there was a possibility +that she might address him and he would not know to whom she was +speaking. + +“I don’t believe in long engagements, do you?” She went off at a +tangent. + +“No, I don’t. They should be short--and sweet!” + +They both laughed together, and were in excellent humour by the time +they reached the deserted streets of Dorking. + +“I only have one anxiety,” he told her. “Mr. Richard Alford has got a +habit of prowling round at odd hours. On a night like this he’ll +hardly leave his comfortable apartment.” + +“Comfortable apartment!” she scoffed. “Why, he’s only got a tiny +little office, and his bedroom’s not much bigger than mine. I simply +detest the man. He gives himself more airs in a day than dear Harry +gives himself in ten years--you don’t mind me saying ‘dear Harry?’ +You’re not jealous, are you?” + +He assured her he was not at all jealous. + +“I should have married Harry if it hadn’t been for him. Harry was +simply crazy about me, but Dick hated me--how that man hated me! Mind +you, I’ve always snubbed him when he got a little too fresh. I don’t +say that he was chasing me--I hate girls who think every man is after +them--but he was certainly very attentive once or twice. After lunch +or dinner he’d get up and open the door for me, and that’s a thing +that Harry never did. But of course I saw through it. It was all +deceit and artfulness.” + +She chattered at rare intervals, except during the five miles of +driving rain that forced its way under the cover and lashed her face. + +“It’s a horrible night,” she complained. + +“On the contrary, it’s one of the best nights I could have chosen even +if I had the ordering of the weather,” said Mr. Gilder. + +When they reached the secondary road that led to Chelfordbury he +proceeded with greater caution, extinguishing the flaming headlamps +and relying upon the two small lights that were placed on the front +mudguard. He knew the road so well that there was no danger of mishap; +his chief anxiety was that he should not, by the reflected rays of the +bigger headlights, be recognized. + +A mile from Fossaway Manor he switched out the remaining two lights, +for he had a shrewd idea that this section of the road was visible +from Lord Chelford’s house. To the nervous girl riding at his side, it +seemed that they were in imminent danger every minute of colliding +with one of the telegraph posts which ran along the side of the road. +Happily she was not aware that the smaller lamps had been +extinguished. + +“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I know every inch of this road; I’ve +driven up it a hundred times. My cottage lies just beyond Willow +House.” + +The car, which had been moving silently and smoothly, began to slow as +it went up the hill that led to Fontwell Cutting. He switched off the +engine, and, jamming on the brakes, got out and opened the gate into +Red Farm field. Then, walking alongside the car, he released the +brakes and guided it to the place where Dick had found the machine a +few nights before. + +“Here we are,” he said. + +He took her arm; she was shivering, and when she spoke he heard the +chatter of her teeth. + +“I wish I hadn’t come,” she said, started, and pointed into the dark. +“What is that over there?” she whispered fearfully. + +“A pollard willow,” he said. “Really, there’s nothing to be afraid +of--Mary.” + +“I don’t know about that,” she quavered. “Don’t let go of my arm, will +you? Have you got a pistol?” + +He assured her that he had. + +Through the little gate, which he knew was unlocked, up the steep and +slippery slope, and immediately ahead of them in the darkness were the +solemn ruins. + +“I’d rather not show a light,” he said in a low voice. “That was how +Gwyn was discovered. Do you know your way?” + +“If I can see the tower,” she suggested. + +Stooping down to get an artificial skyline, he saw the bulk of the +ruined tower and guided her forward. Once she stumbled over a heap of +stones and would have screamed if his hand had not covered her mouth. + +“For God’s sake, be careful!” he urged. “Now, how do we get to the +vault?” + +“Wait.” She released his arm and went toward the wall of the tower. He +saw her once more, when she was groping her way round. Presently she +whispered: “Come along.” + +He followed her and reaching out her hand she took his. + +“There’s a step down,” she whispered. + +They were going into the tower, although he did not remember having +seen any opening. He heard a rusty squeak.… + +“It’s very narrow; you’ll have to squeeze through.” + +The opening, he judged, was about a foot wide, and he had some trouble +to pass the obstacle. + +“It’s a big corner stone,” she said, in a low voice. “It swings round +and opens like a door. It’s the way the old Abbot used to go out when +he carried on with Lady Chelford--you’ve heard that bit of scandal, I +suppose?” + +The “bit of scandal” was some eight hundred years old and was news to +him. + +“If you’ve got a lamp you can put it on.” + +He pulled out his torch and turned the switch. They were in a tiny +stone chamber at the top of a circular flight of moss-grown stairs. +Above was a vaulted roof, which seemed to be cut out of one piece of +stone, as it might well be, for the interior measurements of the tower +could not have been much more than four by five. The thickness of the +walls he could judge; they had been built in the days when walls had +other functions than to support a roof. + +“Come along.” She led the way, stepping gingerly on the slithery moss. + +He counted twenty-five steps, and then they were in a large stone +chamber, so weatherworn that it seemed to be a natural cave. Walls and +roof had lost their symmetry, and only the square of it told him that +it was the work of man’s hands. + +“Have you got the key?” + +He nodded. Many years before, Gwyn & Gwyn had defended a famous +burglar and had secured his acquittal on a technical error in the +indictment. In reward he had presented to his lawyer a key which he +claimed would open any door, big or small. It was a curious +contrivance, consisting of a steel rod into the end of which strangely +shaped projections could be screwed. Arthur had given it to his head +clerk as a souvenir, having no interest in such matters himself, and +rather scandalized that the firm was engaged in so discreditable a +business as defending a burglar. This souvenir had now become an +instrument of providence. + +“Here is the place.” She still spoke in a whisper, though it was +hardly likely they could be overheard. + +In each corner of the room, facing them as they turned from the foot +of the stairs, was a small, narrow door, deeply recessed. They +reminded Mr. Gilder of the cell doors in Dartmoor, and there was a +further likeness in another respect. Near the top of the left-hand +door was a tiny iron grille, consisting of three rusted bars. + +“Look!” she whispered. + +He flashed the light of the lamp inside, where a deep, narrow cavern +showed, along two sides of which ran a stone bench, and on the bench +were innumerable cylinders of significant shape. He inspected the +nearest; there was a curious seal at one end. + +Fabrian Gilder’s heart beat faster. The girl’s hand that held his arm +tightly was trembling. + +“I’m so frightened,” she whimpered. + +“What are you frightened about?” + +“I’m so afraid of that awful Black Abbot.” She was on the verge of +hysterical breakdown. He must work quickly. + +He was fitting one of the accessories to the rod, and he pushed it in +the big keyhole and turned. There was a grind and a click, but when he +pulled the door it was fast. Again he tried, fitting another steel +accessory, and on the third attempt the key turned with a horrible +squeak, and he pulled the door open. + +As he did so, the girl gripped his arm frenziedly. + +“Look! Oh, my God! Look!” she screamed, and he turned. + +Standing at the foot of the stairs was a figure in black, his face +hidden under a long cowl. Two eyes they saw, gleaming feverishly upon +them. Terrible, menacing, the Black Abbot was coldly surveying them! + + + + + XXX + +With an oath, Gilder whipped a pistol from his pocket, but in doing +so the beam of his lamp fell for a second. When he brought it up +again, pistol extended, the figure had vanished. + +“Don’t go, don’t go!” she shrieked, gripping his arm. “Oh, Mr. Gilder! +Oh, Fabrian--don’t leave me!” + +He thrust her aside and ran to the foot of the winding stairs and went +cautiously up. He heard the sobbing breath of the girl coming behind +him. + +“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me in the dark!” she sobbed. + +Higher, higher, cautious, watchful, but no sign of a black habit. The +little room above was as they had left it; the tiny slit of a door was +open. + +Brushing past him, the girl stumbled and staggered into the open air +and collapsed on to her knees. + +“Take me away! Take me away!” she raved. “I wish I had never come!” + +Gilder turned with a curse and swung the stone door close, then, +half-carrying, half-dragging her, beside himself with fury, in which +was mingled no little fear, he brought her to the road and to the car. + +The rain was pouring down. He pushed back the hood of the car +savagely, so that the full force of the storm should beat upon her--he +dare not allow himself to be burdened with a fainting girl. He would +take her back to her flat and leave her--there would be plenty of time +for him to return and investigate those cylinders. + +As for the Black Abbot… he breathed a little more quickly when he +thought of that terrifying appearance. Whoever it was--and that it was +human he did not doubt--would live to regret this night’s +interference. + +By the time they reached Horsham, the girl, drenched to the skin, cold +and shivering, had got back a little of her balance. Her teeth were +chattering, but not with fear. She was inclined to be garrulous, but +he answered in monosyllables or not at all. + +“I wonder I didn’t die,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything so +perfectly horribly ghastly! Did you see the way his eyes glared? They +looked as if they were alight, didn’t they, Fabe?” + +“Fabrian,” he snapped. + +“I never saw anything like it, not even in the pictures,” said Miss +Wenner. “Couldn’t we have the hood up, Fabe--Fabrian?” + +He stopped the car with a jerk, pulled up the hood and fastened it. + +“What are you going to do?” + +“I’m taking you home. We’ll make another attempt to-morrow night. By +the way, how did you get that stone corner piece to turn?” + +“I can’t tell you that, Fabrian,” she said firmly and truly. “That’s +my only hold over you.” + +“Don’t be stupid. You used a bodkin or something, didn’t you? I +noticed there was a space between two stones which looked to be +artificial.” + +“A pair of scissors,” she said. “There’s an iron catch inside that +slit--I only found it by accident.” + +He knew all he wanted to know now; could dispense with her for the +rest of the night, forever, as it happened. He declined her invitation +to come upstairs for a drink, and no sooner was she out of sight than +he was flying back into Sussex. + +Halfway between Dorking and Leatherhead, his gasoline gave out, and he +had to wait on the charity of a passing motorist, and it was not a +night when traffic was very thick. At last he found a good Samaritan +who gave him enough to take the machine to the nearest filling +station, and at Dorking, with his tank replenished and a few extra +tins against emergency, he went on confidently. + +Two o’clock showed on the illuminated dial of his watch when he backed +the car into the field and mounted the slope to the ruins. From here +onward he moved noiselessly, one step at a time, stopping every few +paces to listen. But there was no sign or sound of the cowled figure. + +He found the corner of the tower, with his penknife pressed back the +catch, and, pulling at the rough stone, the edges of which crumbled in +his hand, he opened the door. + +Stopping only to examine the upper chamber, he went slowly down the +stairs, his pistol in one hand, his lamp in the other. There was no +sign of the intruder, but---- + +The door of the treasure house was closed. He pulled, and it swung +open. Flashing his lamp into the long, narrow cell, he saw something +that sent the blood from his face. The “ingots” had disappeared, every +one of them! Neither the bench to the left nor right held a single +cylinder. Beads of perspiration were running down his face as he +turned, and it would have been death to any human spook who opposed +him, for his heart was bitter against whosoever it was had checked his +enterprise. + +He made another inspection of the underground chamber. Unlike its +fellow, the second door in the opposite corner of the room was solid. +Neither peephole nor grating gave a view into the room it guarded. He +guessed that behind the nail-studded portal was a room similar to that +in which the cylinders had been stored. Trying his key on the lock, he +could produce no result. He put his shoulder to the oaken face but the +door did not budge by so much as a fraction of an inch. + +Before this room the flooring consisted of a long slab of stone that +ran without a break to the centre of the apartment, and was the exact +width of the narrow doorway. Had this any significance? Kneeling, he +examined the stone carefully. It was different from the rest of the +paving. The broken stones that formed the floor of the room were worn +smooth by the passage of generations of men; this oblong strip was +rough-dressed, more like the underside of a paving stone than its +chiselled surface. He stamped on one end and felt it give ever so +slightly; stamped on the other end and had a like experience. In the +middle ran a staple, balancing the stone, and beneath there was a +hollow space. Some day or night he would come along and conduct a more +careful inspection.… + +He came into the upper room to confront a more urgent problem. Just as +he was about to extinguish his lamp preparatory to passing through the +opening, he saw the stone move. Before he could spring forward it had +thudded into its place. From somewhere outside he heard an unearthly +chuckle of laughter. + +Trapped! He pushed at the door, but it was inflexible. Inch by inch he +examined its surface. There must be an opening somewhere, he thought. +He remembered the story of the amorous Abbot and his clandestine +excursions. It was certain that a means existed for opening the door +from the inside. + +He searched the wall; nothing appeared. And then it occurred to him to +send his light slowly along the floor, which was made up of broken +flagstones. One, smaller than the others, attracted his attention, +because it lay at a truer level than the rest, and he tugged at its +end, and, with great effort, pulled it up. Beneath he saw a great iron +ring, so rusted that it was almost razor-thin. With his handkerchief +he gripped it and pulled. It gave a little, and, as it did, he saw the +door move. Again he strained at the handle and slowly it came up; +although the door had moved only an inch he knew it was clear of the +invisible catch which held it. Running to the stone, he pressed with +all his might. It swung open and he came staggering out into the eerie +light of dawn. + +The storm had passed; overhead, the stars were shining in the paling +sky. Far away to his left a wisp of smoke curled up from the twisted +chimneys of Fossaway Manor. Fabrian Gilder wiped his hot face and +strove to overcome the bitterness of his defeat. And then, at his +feet, he saw something and, stooping with a cry, picked it up. It was +one of the cylinders, heavy and laden, that had been dropped by those +who had cleared the vault. It was not heavy enough for gold. He knew +that at once. The cover was of lead. He tore away the seal, expecting +to find an opening, but the cylinder had been sealed at both ends. He +carried it quickly down the slope, and in the shelter of the cut road +he took out his knife and slit the thin lead end, and pulled out a +tightly rolled sheet of parchment. He opened it and stared. It was an +ancient missal, beautifully painted and, as a work of art, priceless, +but a poor substitute for thirty-five pounds weight of solid gold! + + + + + XXXI + +And that was all the other cylinders contained, he thought, with a +gleam of satisfaction. Whoever had watched him--and he suspected +Arthur Gwyn naturally--had had the same disappointment. + +It was in this room that the old monks had stored their ancient music. +There was a certain grim humour in the thought of how he had spent his +night and the reward for it. + +He crossed the road, opened the gate, and went into the field where he +had left his car, and stood stock still, petrified with amazement. The +car had disappeared! + +The tracks were plainly visible. They led through the cutting, along +the road toward Willow House. There was nothing to do but to tramp +after them. A mile beyond Arthur Gwyn’s residence was Ravensrill +Cottage, his own property, he thought with some satisfaction, and a +snug retreat where a man could get a hot bath in an hour and a +steaming cup of tea in a quarter. The prospect was cheering, for he +was wet through, weary and footsore. + +The tracks passed the entrance of Willow House and continued on the +way to the cottage; and when at last he turned the bend of the road +that brought his little country home into view, he saw the car +standing before the door. There was no sign of any living creature. He +went round the house, searched the tiny plantation to the left, and +even descended to the banks of the stream, before he opened the door +of his cottage and went in. + +He put the key in the lock and, to his surprise, on the pressure of +his hand, the door opened. The door which opened into his little +dining-room yielded to his pressure before he could turn the key. He +gazed, stricken dumb with amazement. A small fire was burning in the +grate, on which a kettle was steaming. An open teapot was on the +hearth, and somebody had broken open a tin of biscuits. He heard a +footstep in the next room and swung round to meet the intruder; and at +the sight of him, he dropped the point of his levelled Browning. + +“Thomas!” he said, unable to believe his eyes. “What the devil are you +doing here?” + +“Fired this morning,” said the ex-footman curtly. + +“This morning? Why, it’s hardly daylight!” + +Thomas nodded. + +“Alford found me wandering about the house when I ought to have been +in bed and asleep,” he said, “and he hoofed me out.” + +“But why?” + +The man was uncomfortable. + +“How do I know why?” he demanded. “That dog never liked me. I think he +suspected me of writing to you.” + +Gilder knew that this story was a lie, designed to show him under an +obligation to this ex-servant. Thomas had been a useful correspondent +of his: all that went on at Fossaway Manor had been faithfully +recorded for his information. + +“You are in trouble. What have you been doing?” + +The man pursed his lips. + +“Well…” he hesitated, “I may as well tell you the truth. Have you ever +heard of Monkey Puttler? Wait a minute, I’ll make the tea.” + +He picked up the steaming kettle and filled the pot, and not till he +had put it back on the hob did he continue his narrative. + +“Monkey Puttler’s a ‘busy.’ Every crook in London knows him, and I +know him as well as anybody because he got me three years for a job I +did at the Westinghouse Hotel.” + +“Burglary?” asked the other, to whom this was news. + +“An inside job,” said the other tersely. “You can call it burglary if +it gives you any pleasure. Anyway, Monkey caught me and pushed me over +the Alps for three long and weary ones. When I came out I got this +job. There were pickings to it, too. Chelford isn’t a man who counts +his change, and Alford doesn’t dare ask him what he’s done with his +money when he comes for more.” + +“An ex-convict, eh?” Gilder was slightly shocked and regarded the man +from a new angle. “I didn’t know that or I should never have employed +you!” + +“I had to kid a bit,” confessed Thomas, with a grin. + +“You kidded me all right!” replied Gilder. + +“Well, I didn’t exactly kid you,” said the other, amused. “But that +day when I went to your office and you started cross-examining me +about how things were at the Manor with Gwyn, I didn’t see why I +shouldn’t earn a few honest dollars.” + +“Well? Go on about your friend Monkey--what is his name?” + +“Puttler. He came yesterday.” + +“To Chelford’s house?” asked Gilder in surprise. + +“Yes,” nodded Thomas. “Alford pretended he is an accountant, but he’s +a busy all right; I knew him the moment I saw him, and, what’s worse, +he knew me. I’d come to Chelford’s service on a false character and I +knew my number was up as soon as I saw his ugly phiz. Sure enough, +last night Alford gave me notice, told me to clear out to-day. I’ll +catch that bird one of these days,” he said, with an ugly look in his +face. + +“But why this morning?” asked Gilder. + +“I was going to tell you,” said the other impatiently. “Chelford keeps +a cash box in his library; it’s in the second left-hand drawer, and +he’s generally got a wad of stuff there. He’s childish in the matter +of money. I knew if I could get my hooks into the stuff I could lift +enough to be happy, and leave enough behind so that Chelford couldn’t +swear whether I’d had it or not. I got into the library about four +this morning, and was going upstairs when Alford spotted me, told me +to go up and dress and clear, which I did--he’s got something on his +mind, that fellow, he never sleeps!” + +“He caught you with the money?” asked Gilder in disgust. + +“Not he--I shoved that out of the library window as soon as I got it. +I picked it up later.” + +“What was Mr. Alford doing, wandering about the house at that hour?” + +The man made a grimace. + +“You never know when that bird is around,” he said. “He’s not human; I +tell you he doesn’t want sleep!” + +Though Gilder was certain he was telling the truth, he was equally +sure that the man was concealing something. There seemed to him to be +gaps in his story, which he bridged readily enough. Wisely he decided +that it was not the moment to cross-examine him. On one point he made +up his mind. This man and he must part company, and soon. + +“Why did you come here?” + +“Thought you were in London,” said the other coolly. “I’ve been here +before to see you, and I didn’t think you’d mind my using your house +for a day or two--maybe a week or two,” he added, his eyes fixed on +the other’s face. + +Gilder scratched his chin thoughtfully. + +“I don’t know that it will do me much good if it’s known that you’re +an ex-convict.” + +“They needn’t know, why should they?” said the other. + +“Did you bring my car here?” + +Thomas nodded. + +“I was going over to Red Farm first; there’s a groom there who’s a +friend of mine. Then I saw your car and thought something had happened +to you. I waited for a time, and when you didn’t turn up I brought it +along.” + +“Did anybody see you?” + +“Nobody. It was nearly dark.” + +What was the man concealing? The impression that Gilder had--and he +was a skilful reader of minds--was that Thomas was bursting with some +vital information. Once or twice it had been at the end of his tongue, +and he had inhibited the sensation. + +“You can stay here if you like; I’m going to town. If I get a letter +from the local police saying you’re living in the house, I shall write +saying that you have no authority. You understand that I must protect +myself?” + +“I can understand that, guv’nor.” + +Again his lips moved to speak, and again he checked himself. + +“What do you want to tell me?” + +“It’s too big to tell. I am going to keep it. Maybe if you come down +later I’ll spin you a story that’s worth a million dollars.” + +Thomas had once spent twelve months in a Canadian penitentiary, and it +was his favourite pose that he was an American crook. + +“A million dollars--yep!” + + + + + XXXII + +Gilder poured out the tea, helped himself to biscuits, and, his +hunger relieved, went into his room, and from a bureau took a complete +change of clothes. The water was too cold for a bath, and he had a rub +down with a rough towel as a substitute. He felt another man when +shaved and clean and warm. He came back to Thomas, who was smoking a +short briar pipe, peering into the fire. + +“When you’ve decided to talk, you had better send me a wire--not from +Chelfordbury but from Horsham.” + +He wrote his address on a page of his notebook, tore it out and gave +it to the man, then, cranking up his car, he went back through the +dull morning to London. + +At ten o’clock he was roused from a heavy sleep to answer the +telephone. It was Mary Wenner, and he cursed her under his breath. + +“Is that you, Fabe? I’ve been so worried about you all night, my dear. +You didn’t go back to that awful place?” + +“I’ll come and see you this afternoon,” he interrupted. “Don’t talk on +the telephone: people can hear.” + +“Fabe, dear”--there was a real note of anxiety in her voice--“you +didn’t go back and get any of that gold, did you? I know you’re +awfully brave, but I wouldn’t have you risk your life for the world.” + +“No, I didn’t get any gold,” he said. + +“Oh!” she replied, and in that “Oh!” was disappointment and annoyance. +“It wasn’t so bad for you, a man,” she said, with some asperity in her +tone. “Here I’ve been laying in bed all night thinking of you, and +worrying about you----” + +“I will see you this afternoon,” he rasped, and hung up on her. + +He had no intention of seeing her that afternoon or any other +afternoon, but in this matter his will was not the determining factor. +Soon after tea, when he was preparing to go out, she walked into his +dining-room unannounced. What she had told his servants, he shuddered +to think. She passed swiftly across to him, stooped and kissed him +chastely on the brow, and then seated herself by his side. + +“Dear,” she said, and he closed his eyes patiently, “do you mind if I +do something that seems a teeny-weeny bit deceitful?” + +“I don’t mind----” he began. + +“But this is something which affects your honour, dear.” Her sober +eyes were fixed on his. “You must never think I’m not faithful to you +and all that sort of thing, but he’s written to me such a pleading +letter----” + +“Who has written?” he asked, suddenly interested. + +“Arthur. I’ve also had a letter from his sister; she wants me to go +down and spend the week-end with them, and of course I’d much rather +stay up here with you. But I feel I ought to have it out with Arthur +and let him know that my affections are no longer his. After all, even +if we didn’t get the fortune, I know that I’m dealing with a gentleman +who doesn’t want me for my money alone. And you’re not exactly a +pauper, are you, dear? I went and asked a young gentleman I know at +Stubbs’ Agency, and they told me that you were worth at least a +hundred thousand pounds.” + +Gilder groaned. + +“And I have your promise, in writing.” + +“Yes, you’ve got everything, my dear Mary,” he said wearily. + +“And, Fabe, dear, such a curious thing happened about that paper. When +I took it from under my pillow this morning what do you think? All the +writing had disappeared! You could have knocked me down with a +feather.” + +He stirred uneasily in his chair. + +“That is most extraordinary,” he found words to say. + +“I was so upset about it that I took it to a gentleman friend of mine, +who’s in the conjuring business. You’ve probably seen him: he takes +rabbits out of paper bags, and he says that you must have used +invisible ink, and he showed me how to bring the writing back and make +it permanent.” + +“And did you?” asked Gilder hollowly. + +“Why, of course I did, dear. You just squeeze a lemon, rub it over the +paper and hold it in front of the fire.” + +Gilder’s head reeled. All he could say was “Oh!” This was +awkward--very awkward; but it was a difficulty that might easily be +surmounted. At the worst he could buy her off for a thousand, and the +promise of marriage was contingent.… Still it was a very unpleasant +document to be produced even in a breach of promise case; for, strong +in the faith of the invisible quality of his ink, he had made an +agreement which was very damaging to himself. + +“Are you going to stay with the Gwyns?” + +“I think so, dear.” The hesitation was assumed, he knew; she had +already made up her mind. “I really think that I ought to go. Arthur, +of course, is a very old friend, and although he’s nothing to me, any +more than the dirt beneath my feet, and I should no more think of +throwing myself at his head than I should of flying to the moon--well, +I feel I ought to go.” + +“Then, for heaven’s sake, go!” he said curtly, and she murmured her +thanks, and would have lingered on, but he accompanied her to the door +and opened it very pointedly. + +He gathered that, whilst she held him to his promise, she had not +altogether lost hope of bringing Arthur Gwyn to heel. + +She had hardly left the place before a telegraph boy arrived. Gilder +was expecting a wire from one of his bookmaking businesses, now in +process of liquidation, since their only client had passed from active +operations. The telegram was addressed from a village five miles from +Chelfordbury and ran: + + + Get down here as fast as you can. Big news for you. + + +It was signed “T.” + +Would Thomas talk? And what had he to say? + + + + + XXXIII + +The groom who brought Dick Alford’s horse to the door had a report +to make. + +“That fellow was seen last night, sir.” + +“Which fellow is this?” asked Dick, as he swung into the saddle. + +“The Black Abbot, sir. Gill, the gamekeeper up at Long Meadow Cottage, +saw him at four o’clock this morning walking through the long meadow. +By the time Gill got his gun he’d vanished.” + +“And what was the Black Abbot doing in the Long Meadow?” asked Dick +sardonically. “Picking buttercups?” + +“It’s rather late for buttercups, sir,” said the unimaginative groom. +“But Gill says that if he’d had his gun he’d have taken a pot at him.” + +“And there would have been an inquest, and the best Gill could hope +for would be a verdict of justifiable homicide. You can tell Gill from +me that the Black Abbot is to be tackled--by hand! A live ghost will +tell us a lot, but a dead ghost is practically useless as an +information bureau.” + +He cantered through the home meadows, behind the house, and, avoiding +the Abbey ruins, rejoined the winding Ravensrill. Setting his horse at +a walk, he followed the bank of the stream, his mind so completely +occupied by the events of the past twenty-four hours that he would +have passed unnoticed the girl who was lying face downward on the +opposite bank. + +It was a glorious morning, warm and sunny. The sky was an unblemished +blue, the world was bathed in yellow radiance. Overhead, a flight of +migratory birds were moving southward, and the faint chatter of them +came down to him.… + +“Good-morning, Sir Galahad!” + +He reined up his horse and looked round in bewilderment. Presently he +saw her. + +“Good-morning, Guinevere!” he said, and, turning his horse’s head to +the stream, he came gingerly down the slope and sent the reluctant +horse into the water. + +“Be careful!” + +“There’s a ford here,” he said. “In fact,” as he emerged with his +horse’s girth dripping, “this is the original Chelford. Knights in +armour, and probably Britons in feathers and woad, have crossed +Ravensrill at this spot. What on earth are you doing?” + +He slipped to the ground, dropping the reins, and allowed his mount to +forage at will. She was lying now at full length, but resting on her +elbows. Immediately beneath her face was a slab of rock in the centre +of which a hole some eighteen inches in diameter had been worn. When +he saw this he laughed softly. + +“Leslie, what questions have you to ask the Wishing Well?” + +Why it was called the Wishing Well he had never learnt--no water had +ever risen from that deep cavity which, by some freak of nature, +extended to unplumbed depths. Yet here, generations of country swains +had come to prostrate themselves and bellow into the cavity the burden +of their hearts’ desire. And tradition had it that the well answered +them clearly and intelligibly. + +“I’m asking about me.” Her face was pink, probably from her unusual +posture. + +“And what said the well?” he mocked. + +She scrambled to her knees and pushed back the hair from her forehead. + +“I’ll not tell you. Ask something!” + +With a growl and a groan he stretched himself on the warm grass and, +hollowing his hands, roared into the crevice: + +“What is going to happen to Leslie?” + +They waited, and then the echo came back, queerly distorted yet +distinct. + +“Marry her!” + +They laughed together. It was the trick of some hollow place below +that through the ages had sent back the same reply to every question. + +He got up to his feet. + +“I wish you wouldn’t wander around without my escort,” he said +seriously, and she laughed. + +Never had he seen her looking more beautiful than that morning. She +was a thing of air and sunlight, a baffling unreality that did not +belong to the sordid world in which he was living. + +“I got up early and was bored, so I went walking, and then I thought +of the well and wondered whether it had learnt any new tricks. +Arthur’s very conscious of his eye and he won’t go out until his face +is normal. Poor Arthur!” She hesitated, looking at him. “You haven’t +found----” She did not finish the sentence. + +“The gentleman who did the shooting? No, but we have a pretty shrewd +idea. By the way, I have fired Thomas. You remember that hang-dog +footman who was always near at hand when he shouldn’t have been?” + +“What has he done?” she asked. + +“Nothing particular. He is an ex-convict: Puttler recognized him as +soon as he arrived; and I found him at three o’clock this morning +coming out of the library and made him turn out his pockets. He had no +very considerable sum of money in his possession, but the chances are +that he had cached it. Poor old Harry is such a slacker in the matter +of keeping accounts that it will be almost impossible to secure a +conviction. Of course, Thomas swore the money we found--not a large +amount--was his, and as it meant a fuss in waking up Harry, who I am +perfectly sure could have given us no information, we allowed the +brute to get away with it.” + +“Where is he now?” + +“Thomas? I expect he caught the first train for London. I don’t +suppose he’ll be applying for a job in the neighbourhood, but to be on +the safe side you had better tell your brother.” + +There was a moment of silence, then she asked: + +“Did you find the rifle?” + +He shook his head. + +“It was an army rifle, but there isn’t such a thing at Fossaway Manor, +though there are plenty in the village. In fact, nearly a dozen of our +people working on the estate are Territorials. Puttler says that a +poacher’s gang was responsible.” + +Dick was a poor liar, but Leslie suspected nothing and did not +question this theory. If she had, she might have pointed out that +poachers use shotguns and snares, and that the rifle as an instrument +for the destruction of game was about as valuable as a steam-hammer +for tacking down carpets. + +They walked across the field toward Willow House, Dick leading his +horse. + +“I want you to make me a promise, Leslie,” he said. + +“What is it?” she asked, knowing before he spoke what it would be. + +“I want you to promise me not to take these early morning walks, to +use your car and to keep to the roads.” + +Her eyebrows rose. + +“Why? Surely there is no danger? You’re not afraid of the Black +Abbot?” + +But he did not answer her smile. + +“No,” he said. “I’m not afraid especially of the Black Abbot, but I’m +very much afraid of the something that is behind the Black Abbot.” + +She knew that he did not wish to be questioned further, and changed +the subject. She had a visitor coming, she told him, and only when she +told him who it was, did his eyes twinkle. + +“Good Lord! That lady? I suppose you realize you’re harbouring a +dangerous rival?” + +“Don’t be horrid, Dick. The poor girl was very fond of Harry, and in +the letter she wrote to me she told me that she hoped I wouldn’t be +embarrassed by her coming----” + +“She would say that,” said Dick grimly. + +“--and that she had almost forgotten Harry’s stupid infatuation.” + +Dick stopped to laugh. + +“Can you beat that?” he asked, with tears in his eyes. “Jumping +snakes! ‘Harry’s stupid infatuation’! Well, I won’t be ungenerous.” + +“Don’t,” she warned him. “I’m rather sorry for the girl.” + +“Don’t,” he mimicked. “You need never be sorry for Mary. If you keep +her off the subject of me, you’ll have a very pleasant week-end. But +in the matter of Richard Alford she is a fanatic. I won’t tell you the +horrid things she says of me, because it would prejudice you against +her.” + +“How do you know?” she challenged. “Quite a number of people say +horrid things about Richard Alford.” + +“Not to you,” he said quietly, and she flushed and again changed the +subject. + +“I don’t know why I’m up so early; I didn’t go to bed till two.” + +“It was ten minutes past two when your light went out,” he said +promptly, and she stared at him. + +“How do you know?” + +“I happened to be passing your house.” + +He was in such a hurry to explain that she was suspicious. + +“The Black Abbot was about last night. Puttler and I did a little +ghost-hunting.” + +“Did you see him?” + +He shook his head. + +“Nobody saw him except a terrified gamekeeper.” + +Suddenly she turned to him with a little gasp of surprise. + +“It _was_ you!” she accused. + +“What was me?” + +“I am sure I saw somebody at the lower end of the drive. You were +smoking a cigar: I could see the little red glow; and at first I +thought it was Harry, and this morning I found the end of the cigar +near the lodge gates--Richard Alford, do you ever sleep?” + +“Frequently,” he said, with a smile, and put his arm round her +shoulder. “I’m being brotherly: take no alarm,” he mocked her. +“Leslie, dear, will you promise?” + +“What?” she asked. + +“Not to wander through the fields at odd hours. I don’t want to alarm +you--I feel a brute as it is--but there may be real danger for the +next day or two. Please don’t ask me what it is, because I can’t tell +you; I’m not so sure that I know.” + +She turned this over in her mind for a long time. + +“Has it to do with the Chelford treasure?” she asked, and, to her +surprise, he nodded. + + + + + XXXIV + +In sight of her house he left her, and, remounting his horse, +cantered away. She watched him until a bend of the road hid him from +view, and then with a little sigh she walked slowly toward her home. + +What was the mystery? She had never taken the Black Abbot very +seriously, believing that the apparition had its origin in a stupid +practical joke carried out by a villager with a histrionic bent. The +legend she knew; Dick had told her, and Harry, who kept alive all the +legends of the family, had described in detail the +eight-hundred-year-old murder. But how was the Black Abbot affecting +her? And what was the meaning of this close guard that Dick Alford was +keeping on her? She had no doubt that it was he who was watching the +house in the early hours of the morning. + +In the night she had reached a momentous decision. It had been made +after long thought and heart-searching, and she would have given +everything to have had the courage to tell Dick that morning. But in +that bright, sunlit world she was averse to hurting him. But would he +be hurt? Her life’s future hung on that question. + +She had been dimly conscious that a man was standing before the gate +of Willow House. She had seen him when she was some distance away, and +now, as she drew near, she had a feeling that he was waiting to speak +to her. He was tall and wearing an ill-fitting gray suit and a golf +cap; from his lips drooped a limp cigarette. He took his hands out of +his pockets as she came near and touched his cap, and then she +recognized the ill-favoured Thomas, the ex-footman. + +“Good-morning, miss,” he said. + +“Good-morning, Thomas.” + +She viewed with more interest than she had done heretofore the lank, +awkwardly made man. + +“I wonder if I can have a word with you, miss?” + +She hesitated. + +“I am afraid I can do nothing for you, Thomas,” she said. “Mr. Alford +tells me he has discharged you.” + +He forced a grin. + +“Mr. Alford never did like me, miss,” he said. “I’ve been falsely +accused, and I’m going to see my lawyer when I get to town. One +minute, miss,” he said hastily, as she was opening the gate. “I could +tell you something that would be worth a lot to you.” + +Her gray eyes fixed him in a steady stare. + +“You can tell me nothing that would be of the slightest value, +Thomas----” she began. + +“Oh, couldn’t I!” His head went up and down in a succession of nods. +He was ludicrously like a nodding mandarin she had on her writing +table. “You don’t know what I know. I could tell you something, and I +could tell Mr. Gwyn something that nobody don’t know. People talk +about the Chelford treasure----” + +“I don’t want to hear any more,” she said, and, turning, walked up the +drive. + +For a moment he glared after her as though he contemplated following, +but thought better of it, and, lighting the cigarette which had gone +out, he slouched back to his borrowed home. And then an idea occurred +to him. Beyond the low wooden fence was a thick belt of laurels. If +one of his plans were carried out and he had to make a quick exit from +Chelfordbury, it might be worth while to reconnoitre this house. He +jumped over the fence and made a cautious progress through the +bushes.… + +“Who’s that you were speaking to, Leslie?” Arthur Gwyn was lying in a +deck chair on the lawn, his eye covered with a piece of white lint. + +“Thomas,” she said. + +“The footman from Fossaway? What did he bring--a message?” + +“No, he’s been discharged,” she said as she passed him. “Dick suspects +him of stealing, and he sent him about his business this morning.” + +“Have you seen Dick, then?” he asked in surprise. + +“Yes, I met him; he was riding over to see the miller.” She lingered +at the back of the chair. + +“You always seem to be meeting that fellow,” he mused, with a frown. +“It is ‘Dick this’ and ‘Dick that.’ Do you think it’s wise, Leslie, +playing with fire and all that sort of thing? You never tell me you +meet Harry----” + +“Harry never comes out of his library,” she said with a smile, “and +it’s difficult to miss Dick if you’re out of doors. Not that I’ve ever +tried to miss him.” + +He took out his cigarette and looked at it thoughtfully, his lips +pursed. + +“Dick’s a good fellow,” he said again, “and it is unnecessary for me +to remind you that he is a second son, and as poor as a church mouse. +Yes, Leslie, I’m going to insist on that poverty. After all, you’re +not marrying a pauper in Harry. And I tell you frankly that it is +necessary that you should marry a rich man!” + +The truth was coming--she braced herself to meet it. + +“Who will also take my fortune on trust,” she said quietly. “If I +married Dick, who is a business man, he might ask to see my bonds and +shares----” + +A tense moment of silence, then: + +“There are no bonds or shares!” + +He had to set his teeth to make his confession. He could not see her +face; he dared not look round or meet her eyes. + +“There are no bonds or shares?” she repeated slowly. “Then what I said +in the car was right? I am penniless!” + + + + + XXXV + +The truth was out. Leslie stood rigidly behind her brother, looking +down on him. + +“I am penniless!” she repeated. + +He had to wet his dry lips before he could speak. + +“I’ve been trying to work up courage to tell you this for a long +time,” he said. “I’m a coward--a cur! You have a few thousand pounds +that I couldn’t handle, but every other penny of your fortune I have +spent!” His voice was hoarse, scarcely recognizable. “You’ll have to +know this sooner or later; you might as well know it now. I don’t know +what you’ll think of me. I’d like to say that I didn’t care, but that +wouldn’t be the truth. I’ve gambled away a quarter of a million, and +I’m as near to bankruptcy and ruin as makes no difference.” + +He pulled the lint bandage from his eye and got up and faced her. Save +for the discolouration of his cheek, he was white as chalk. + +“I’d no intention of telling you,” he said in a low voice, “but you +piqued me into it, and I’m glad it’s over.” + +Raising his eyes to hers, he did not see the look of condemnation he +expected. There was neither contempt nor consternation in her face. +The red lips were curved in a half-smile, and in her eyes was nothing +but kindliness and pity. + +“Thank God!” she said in a low voice, and he could not understand her. + +“This means, of course, that Chelford will have to take you without a +fortune,” he said. + +She shook her head. + +“I have already written to Harry, breaking off my engagement,” she +answered him. And then her arm slipped into his. “Let us go in to +breakfast,” she said. “This is one of the happiest days of my life.” + +The letter came to Harry Alford, Earl of Chelford, with two or three +other personal letters; his main correspondence was with London +booksellers, for he was a restless collector of ancient tomes. He +looked at the letter, recognizing the handwriting, frowned, and turned +it over. Then, with some evidence of annoyance, he slit the flap. + + + Dear Harry: + + I have thought for a long time that we have so little in common that a + marriage between us could not possibly lead to happiness for either of + us. I suppose the correct thing to do would be to send back my + engagement ring, but fortunately or unfortunately, you forgot to + present me with this token! I wish you every happiness, and I hope + that we shall still be good friends. + + +Harry read the letter, rubbed his forehead in perplexity, then, rising +from his chair, almost ran from the library. Dick was on the lawn, +playing with his dog, when his brother burst into the little study. + +“I say, look at this! What do you think of it?” + +Dick read the letter with a troubled face. + +“I’m sorry,” he said. + +“Sorry!” said Harry shrilly. “It’s disgraceful! I shall look a perfect +fool! Leslie’s treated me very badly indeed--but that reference to the +engagement ring is in shocking bad taste.” + +“I thought you’d given her one,” said the patient Dick. “Didn’t you?” + +“It is a barbarous and stupid practice. I never dreamt of giving her a +ring. Why should I? She had a ring, a beautiful one. You must have +seen it--a diamond that she always wears. What is the sense of it? The +reference is in very bad taste--shocking!” + +And yet, in spite of his agitation and anger, Dick thought he detected +relief in his brother’s voice. But his vanity had been hurt, and that +is a sore place with many men of greater calibre than Lord Chelford. + +“Without any warning.… She was here yesterday, but said not a word +about it!” + +“You hardly gave her a chance,” said Dick. “You scarcely spoke to her, +and really, Harry, you took no trouble to entertain her. Be +reasonable.” + +Harry fondled his chin and glared through the thick lenses of his +horn-rimmed spectacles. + +“I suppose not,” he said, with sudden mildness. “But, really, I’m not +a marrying man. I want no more than my books and my mission. But I’m +going to look a fool over this business, Dick.” His anger was rising +again. “Everybody in the county knows we’re engaged, and they’ll come +prying around to discover what is wrong. We shall have those beastly +newspaper men sitting on the front step, and that is more than I can +endure!” + +“Then let them come to me,” said Dick. “I’ll give them all the +explanation they need, and they’ll be sorry they asked. As for +newspaper men--I eat ’em alive!” + +Still his brother was not wholly mollified. + +“What made her do it? Do you think she’s found somebody else she likes +better?” He peered at Dick in his short-sighted way. “That would make +it even worse. I’m very annoyed with Arthur Gwyn. He threw this girl +at me----” + +“Don’t let us talk about it,” said Dick sharply. “It isn’t a very +dignified attitude to take.” + +His brother looked at the letter dubiously. + +“What am I to do?” + +“Write a charming letter, freeing her,” said Dick. “You can do no +less.” + +“But do you think she’s got another man in her eye?” demanded Harry. + +“She has probably a dozen,” said the other brutally. “Do as I tell +you, Harry.” + +And Harry Chelford went grumbling back to the library. + +So she had done it! Dick hardly knew whether to be elated or +depressed. A week ago he would have been the happiest man in England; +to-day… he shrugged his broad shoulders, pulled his pipe from his +pocket, and savagely stuffed tobacco into the bowl. This would mean a +break, for a time, at any rate, between the Gwyns and Harry, and there +arose an alarming thought. Suppose Harry transferred his legal +business to another firm? That would mean ruin for Arthur Gwyn. Dick +had so far been able to cover up the defalcations of Leslie Gwyn’s +brother, and in a few months he could have obliterated all trace +without hurt to the estate. But at this stage, if Harry insisted---- + +“His lordship would like to see you, sir.” The second footman had come +up unnoticed behind him. + +Dick steeled himself for the interview and went in. His brother was +sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, his hair rumpled, and an +angry frown puckering the white skin of his forehead. + +“Dick, I’m going to cut out these Gwyns,” he said. “I want you to ask +your lawyers to take over from Arthur, and tell them to be deuced +careful and check every item. That fellow handles my mother’s estate, +and roughly I think he must have nearly fifty thousand pounds in +securities. If there’s a penny missing, Dick, I’ll jail the fellow--I +will, by God! He’s made a fool of me before all the county, and if I +get half a chance I’m going to get back on him.” + +Dick’s heart sank. + +“What lawyers do you suggest?” + +“Sampson & Howard. They’re good people and they’re not too friendly +with Arthur. Will you take that in hand, Dick?” + +Dick Alford nodded. As soon as he could escape from his brother’s +presence, he went round to the garage and, taking out his car, drove +to Willow House. Arthur was still on the lawn, walking up and down, +and from his attitude of depression Dick gathered that something +unusual had happened. Possibly he had been told about the breaking off +of the engagement. But here he attributed the wrong cause. + +“I want to see you, Gwyn.” + +Arthur Gwyn started and turned at the sound of the voice. + +“Hullo!” he said awkwardly. “Does Harry know?” + +Dick nodded. + +“And he’s very angry, I suppose?” + +“He is rather furious. That’s what I’ve come to see you about. Where +is Leslie?” + +“She’s in the house. Do you want her?” + +“No,” said Dick quietly. “I want to talk with you. Come for a walk +with me.” + +They strolled out of all possibility of earshot from the house, and +then: + +“Harry has decided to take the legal management of the estate out of +your hands, Gwyn,” he said. “He spoke to me this morning of some funds +that you’re handling--about fifty thousand pounds’ worth of stock from +the late Lady Chelford’s estate. Is that money intact?” + +Arthur did not answer. + +“Is that money intact?” asked Dick again. + +“No,” said the other huskily; “not a penny of it.” + +Dick stared at the man in horror. + +“You mean the money is lost?” + +Arthur nodded. + +“Yes, I was persuaded to put it into an oil-field in Texas. The shares +are not worth two cents a thousand.” + +Dick groaned. + +“Oh, you fool, you cussed fool!” he muttered. “Don’t you realize what +this means? I can’t cover you up now, not even for Leslie’s sake. You +madman!” + +Arthur Gwyn passed his hand wearily over his eyes. + +“What is the use of ragging me?” he asked plaintively. “I’ve been +expecting this trouble, and have lived under the shadow of it for +years. I’ll have to take my medicine.” + +“And Leslie?” asked Dick sternly. “What of her? Has she to take your +medicine, too?” + +The man’s pallid face was distorted painfully. + +“Don’t talk about Leslie, for God’s sake!” he said. “That’s the worst +of it. I’m not scared of Dartmoor or bankruptcy or anything. Leslie’s +the only fear I have.” + +“Can you raise the money?” + +Arthur gave a harsh little laugh. + +“Raise it? How do you think I can raise fifty thousand?” + +“You have no friends?” + +The lawyer’s lips curled. + +“Not fifty thousand pounds’ worth,” he said curtly. “No, I’m afraid, +Alford, I’ve got to go through with it. I’ve been a blackguard, a +vain, stupid fool--I’ve asked for all that is coming to me and I shall +not squeal.” + +Dick was silent, going over the problem that this horrible situation +presented. Arthur could go to prison and stay there for the rest of +his life, for all he cared… but Leslie: this would break her heart. + +“There is one thing I want you to promise me----” he began, as he +foresaw one possible solution which might present itself to Arthur’s +mind. + +The lawyer smiled and nodded. + +“You can trust me,” he said. “I’ve got some sort of religion tucked +away inside my system. Self-destruction is not my idea of a +gentleman’s solution. I tell you I’ll stand up to anything that comes, +and I’m not going to blow my brains out and leave a coroner’s jury of +yokels and carpenters to discuss my private affairs and probe into my +iniquities. When will the transfer take place?” + +“We’ve got a week yet,” said Dick. “I can hold it up for that long; +but once the papers are in the hands of the other lawyers, nothing can +save you.” + +A week! Arthur Gwyn pinched his lower lip in meditation. Seven days. +So far as he was concerned, if he had seven years to make reparation +he could not see daylight. + +“And get out of your mind that you’re going to find the Chelford +treasure,” said Dick, and the shock made the man jump. + +“Why, how do you know----” he stammered. + +“I know all about that. I tell you that you can cut it out. That isn’t +a solution. It’s only robbing Peter to pay Peter; for if there is any +gold--and heaven knows I doubt it--it belongs to Harry and must go to +Harry. What about Leslie’s fortune? Of course that is non-existent. +Does she know?” + +“I told her this morning,” said the man, and now Dick understood his +depression. “She took it like a brick; in fact, she seemed almost +happy about it. And why, I can’t for the life of me understand. Women +are queer things.” + +“I know one woman who is the most wonderful thing in the world,” said +Dick softly. + +He did not wait to see Leslie, but left as hurriedly as he came, and +the man who had been lying at full length beneath the laurel bushes +waited till the two men had disappeared, and then crawled painfully +and carefully back to the road, mounted the wall, and stepped out for +the nearest telegraph office to send his news. + + + + + XXXVI + +Mr. Gilder arrived at his cottage in the evening and found his +“tenant” sitting on the doorstep smoking a pipe. Fortunately, the +cottage was in the middle of a thin plantation of trees, and the river +at the back made an approach from that direction impossible. +Nevertheless, Mr. Gilder was alarmed at the lack of precaution the man +showed. + +“If you’re going to stay here you’ve got to keep inside the house. I +tell you I don’t want people to know that you’re living here. Now, +what is the big news?” + +“Come inside,” said Thomas, with a grin, and his host felt that the +invitation into his own house was a little superfluous. + +Thomas was not a good story-teller, and it was with many “You see what +I mean’s” and at inordinate length that he unravelled his tangled +narrative. + +“I’d been hanging round the house all the morning. I wanted to have a +talk with the young lady----” + +“What about?” demanded the other. + +“About a certain thing----” + +“Now, see here, Thomas: you’re not to speak to Miss Gwyn--do you +understand? You’re not to approach her and you’re not to go anywhere +near the house.” + +“Well, it’s not a bad thing that I was there this morning,” grinned +Thomas. “Because I heard something that will make you jump!” + +It took half-an-hour for him to repeat, with more or less accuracy, +the conversation he had heard on the lawn. When he came to the vital +point, Mr. Gilder whistled. + +Arthur Gwyn had managed the Chelford estate without his assistance, +and Gilder was as ignorant of the particulars of the property as if it +were in some other office. + +“Fifty thousand, eh?” he mused. “Well, that’s more than Arthur Gwyn +will collect in a hurry.” + +“That’s what he said himself,” said Thomas. “He said to Alford: +‘Friends? Well, I haven’t got fifty thousand pounds’ worth’--those +were his very words. He said, ‘I’ll go to Dartmoor, and that doesn’t +worry me. What worries me is Leslie.’” + +“Did you hear when the transfer was to be completed--I mean, when the +stocks were to be handed over to the other lawyers?” + +“In a week,” said Thomas. “Mr. Alford said, ‘I can hold it up for a +week but I can’t keep it any longer. And once those papers are in the +other bloke’s hands, your name is mud.’” + +Fifty thousand pounds! Gilder paced up and down the narrow room, his +hands behind him. + +“You say that the engagement with his lordship is broken off?” + +“He didn’t say so,” said the man, “but that’s how I took it. He said +‘Was Harry very annoyed?’ That’s his lordship. And Alford said ‘Yes, +and he’s going to change his lawyers.’ And he said, ‘What about +Leslie’s fortune?’----” + +“Call her Miss Gwyn, will you?” interrupted Gilder roughly. + +“He didn’t say Miss Gwyn, he said ‘Leslie.’ But to oblige you I’ll say +Miss Gwyn,” said Thomas. “He said, ‘What about Miss Gwyn’s fortune? Is +that gone?’ And Gwyn said, ‘Yes, every penny.’” + +This was no news to Gilder--Arthur had told him as much. + +“And here, Mr. Gilder--the Black Abbot was around last night. I’ve got +an idea about him! His lordship’s scared to death of the Black Abbot. +Did you know that?” + +“Don’t talk to me about the Black Abbot!” snapped the man. He wanted +to work this thing out, and the chatter of his guest disturbed him. +“You keep inside and out of sight. I think you’d better go to London +to-night. You’ve got money?” + +“I’ve got a bit of money. I was a fool! There’s an old-fashioned diary +in that library that his lordship would give a couple of thousand +pounds to get back, and I had it in my hand! That is the thing I ought +to have pinched.” + +“And if it was found on you, you’d have been in prison. As it was, you +had taken money and you got away with it.” + +This point of view had not struck the ex-convict before. + +“That’s true,” he agreed. “Lord! what a headpiece you’ve got, Mr. +Gilder! If I had your brains----” + +But Mr. Gilder was not in a mood for flattery. + +“I’ve got an idea,” Thomas went on, unconscious of the distraction he +was causing. “Let me go up to London to-night and come down +to-morrow.” + +But Gilder did not hear him. Fifty thousand pounds! And for that price +he could buy--Leslie Gwyn! His pulse quickened at the thought. There +were no “ifs” or “buts.” She would gladly make that sacrifice for her +brother’s sake. This time he had them all in the hollow of his hand: +Leslie, Arthur Gwyn, and last, but not least in dislike, Dick Alford. + +Mentally he reviewed his financial position. He had considerably more +than a hundred thousand pounds in gilt-edged securities, which were +easily realizable--or transferable. He had house property in the north +of London, and a fairly large fluid balance at the bank. And he was +fifty. There were fifteen years of life ahead of him--fifteen happy +years. How could he better use his money than in buying happiness? The +life companionship of that fragrant thing, and afterward a will +whereby she lost all interest in his property if she married +again--Mr. Gilder thought a long way ahead. And his marriage would be +a knife in the heart of the Second Son, for he guessed Dick Alford’s +secret. + +He saw his way now; the plan was foolproof and invincible. Nothing +stood between him and the realization of what had once been a wild and +foolish hope. + +“A week? You’re sure of that?” + +Thomas nodded. His cunning eyes had not left Gilder’s face. +Unconscious of the curious scrutiny, Fabrian asked: + +“Why do you think this news is interesting to me?” + +The man grinned and closed his right eye in a significant wink. + +“Didn’t you ask me to tell you how often the young lady went to +Fossaway Manor? Didn’t you tell me to write everything that happened +between her and his lordship?” + +Gilder was silent. + +It was not a comfortable thought that he had employed such a man as +this to watch the girl he loved. + +“You’d better keep close here,” he said. “I don’t want you to be seen +by the villagers or by the people from Fossaway Manor. Does anybody +know you’re here?” + +“No, sir. Not even Miss Gwyn: she never asked----” + +Gilder interrupted him brusquely. + +“If you’re going to town, go by night, and come back by night. I’m not +so sure that it won’t be a good idea to stay here after all.” + +He got back to London late in the evening and spent the night in a +strict examination of his finances. He had dismissed from his mind all +thoughts of the Chelford treasure. Mary Wenner had certainly +justification for her confidence. He himself had been deceived when he +had looked through the grating and seen those cylinders neatly +arranged on the stone bench. Who had moved them--the Black Abbot? +There must be some explanation for him. But he had his own ideas on +the subject, and the moment had not yet arrived when he could test his +theory. + +The next morning he spent in the City and at Somerset House, examining +the will of the late Lady Chelford. Her legacies were set forth in +detail, and the character of the shares and stocks with which Arthur +Gwyn had been entrusted were particularized, and John Henry Gwyn, +Arthur’s uncle, named as trustee. A search of the court files failed +to reveal any successor to Arthur’s uncle, and apparently no trustee +had been appointed, the stocks being left in Arthur’s care. He would +of course have authority to sell and reinvest, and there would be no +trouble if shares of a corresponding value were handed over to Harry +Chelford’s new solicitors. + + * * * + +Arthur Gwyn had spent a very busy day in the seclusion of his study. +His task was not a pleasant one: he was putting in order the chaos of +his affairs, and as the list of his liabilities grew, he himself +seemed to grow older. + +He had interrupted his work only to lunch with his sister, and Leslie, +who thought that the cause of his distress was her vanished fortune, +did her best to cheer him. His first act had been to gather on paper +the remnants of her vanished quarter of a million, and the remnant was +pitiably small, amounting to less than two thousand pounds. He told +her this at lunch. + +“But that’s really a much larger amount than I expected, Arthur,” she +smiled. “We shall be able to live for two years on that.” + +It was in his mind to say that he would possibly be living for five +years on less, but he wanted to avert that news until it was +inevitable that she should know. + +At five o’clock she was having tea in solitary state when the maid +brought her a card. She had not heard the arrival of the visitor’s +motor car, for the drawing-room was at the back of the house. She took +the card and read it. + +“I don’t think I want to see this gentleman,” she said. “Will you ask +Mr. Gwyn----” + +And then she remembered the struggle on the lawn and Arthur’s damaged +eye. + +“Yes, I’ll see him,” she said. “Ask him to come in.” + +Gilder was dressed as for an official visit. He carried a glossy silk +hat, an incongruous sight in the country, in his gloved hand; his +morning coat sported a large yellow rose; his patent shoes shone +violently. Before he came to Willow House he had called at his own +cottage to refresh his memory on one or two points, but the house was +empty. Thomas had evidently gone up to town, as he had said he would. +At first he was annoyed, but later he was glad that the man was not +there. After all, he knew enough, more than enough for the comfort of +Leslie Gwyn. + +She met him with a distant little bow. + +“I’m afraid you will not regard me as a welcome visitor, Miss Gwyn,” +he said; “but I have a little business to discuss with you, and I +should be grateful if you would give me a few minutes of your time.” + +“Will you sit down, please?” she said coldly. + +He was gazing at her with that queer, hungry look she had seen in his +face before. + +“I understand your engagement with Lord Chelford is broken off?” And, +when she did not answer: “It was partly that which brought me here, +and partly something much more serious--something,” he said, with +distinct deliberation, “which affects you very closely, Miss Gwyn.” + +He paused, expecting a reply, but received none. She sat bolt upright +in one of the deep chairs that abounded in the room, her hands folded +lightly on her lap, her gaze fixed on his. + +“I was, as you probably know, for many years your brother’s right-hand +man. In consequence, I have a very intimate knowledge of his affairs; +and not only his affairs but the affairs of his clients. I know, for +example, that your large fortune is mythical.” + +If he had expected to shock her he was disappointed. She nodded +slightly. + +“I know that also, Mr. Gilder,” she said. “I hope you haven’t made +this long journey to tell me this?” + +For a second he was staggered. He had expected his announcement to be +the first of two tremendous sensations; she saw the disappointment in +his face and could have smiled. + +“There is another matter,” he said, recovering himself, “which does +not directly affect you. Your brother administered the estate of the +late Lady Chelford, in the sense that he had in his charge stocks and +bonds to the value of fifty-one thousand pounds. That is quite usual +in an old-fashioned lawyer’s business, but to-day of course the stocks +would be in the hands of the bank, and the dividends automatically +credited.” + +Her heart nearly stopped beating. He saw the colour fade from her face +and was very sure of himself. + +“My brother has--that money?” she said. + +“He _had_ it.” He emphasized the word. “I understand that the present +Lord Chelford is changing his lawyers, and in a week’s time those +stocks are to be handed over to another firm.” + +She was speechless, knowing that he was telling the truth, +understanding only too well just all that this narrative implied. + +“Fifty thousand pounds is a lot of money,” Gilder went on suavely; “a +very difficult sum to raise in a week. And in a week that money must +be in your brother’s hands.” + +She raised her eyes, and, seeing the pain in them, he was almost sorry +for her. + +“You mean--that the money--that Arthur hasn’t those stocks to +transfer?” + +He nodded. + +“Are you sure of this?” + +“Absolutely sure.” + +A long silence, when the ticking of the little French clock came so +loudly to their ears that instinctively both glanced at the +mantelpiece together. + +“Why do you tell me all this?” + +He cleared his voice. + +“A few days ago I told you, rather uncouthly, I am afraid, that I +loved you,” he said. “You may not credit me with the--the affectionate +reverence I have for you--but I love you! There is nothing in the +world I would not do for you, no price that I would not pay.” + +Her eyes did not waver; she seemed to be reading his very soul. + +“Even to the extent of providing fifty thousand pounds in a week?” she +said in a low voice. + +“Even to that extent,” he answered. + +She rose slowly to her feet. + +“Will you write down your address?” + +So calm was her voice that she might have been discussing an ordinary +matter of business. + +“I know where you live, but I have forgotten the name of the building +and the number.” + +He wrote it down with an unsteady hand and left the paper where she +had placed it. + +“I must know to-morrow,” he said, “yes or no.” + +She dropped her head. + +“You shall know to-morrow,” she said. “If I tell you I will marry you, +you can make the arrangement about the money--I will not fail you.” + +Without another word, he walked to the door, turned, and favoured her +with a deep bow, and went out into the hall. She heard the whirr of +his car grow fainter and fainter. But still she did not move. + + + + + XXXVII + +The door opened. It was Arthur. + +“Was that Gilder who came?” he asked, and, when she nodded: “The +brute! Why didn’t you send for me?” + +He saw her face, and, quickly: + +“Is anything wrong, Leslie?” + +“Yes,” she said, and marvelled herself at the evenness of her tone. +“He came about some money that was in your care--a part of the estate +of Lady Chelford.” + +She saw from the quick change in his face that all that Gilder had +said was true; but then, she had never doubted that. + +“Does Dick know?” she asked. + +“Yes, he knows. I wonder what you think of me?” he asked huskily. + +She shook her head. + +“Does it matter, Arthur, what I think? What will happen if the money +isn’t found?” + +“I’ve got a week yet,” he said. “How did he come to know?” + +“Can you get the money?” + +It was a useless question. + +“Dick said he will do his best.” + +“Nothing can be done with Harry, I suppose?” she asked. “No, that’s +too impossible to think about. What will happen when the truth comes +out?” + +He drew a deep breath. + +“I don’t know; imprisonment, I suppose. It’s horribly rough on you, +Leslie. I’ve said that before, but words mean very little, and I am at +the end of words.” + +His voice broke for a second, but he caught hold of his weakness in +time, and, seeing the fight he was making, there came a look of +admiration to her eyes. + +“You poor soul!” she said softly. + +Another long pause. + +“What did Gilder want--just to tell you that?” + +“Partly that.” + +“And to make you an offer?” There was just a hint of eagerness in his +tone; the drowning man was gripping hard on a straw. It made her heart +ache to think that, even at that moment, when he knew he deserved +nothing but her loathing, he could contemplate yet another sacrifice +upon her part without protest. + +“He made me an offer--yes,” she said. “And I don’t know what I shall +do. I’m going to see Dick.” + +“Is that necessary?” he asked anxiously. + +She nodded. + +“I’m going to see Dick,” she said. “I will ’phone him.” + +She moved to the instrument and lifted the receiver from the hook, +when he caught her arm. + +“I shouldn’t be guided--too much by Dick,” he said breathlessly. +“Gilder’s a brute, but you might be happier with him than with Harry.” + +She shook off his arm and gave a number. The servant who replied told +her that Dick was out, that he had gone to London that afternoon, and +would not be back until late at night. She hung up the instrument, +went back to the drawing-room, and took up the paper on which Gilder +had written his address. + +“You have six days, Arthur,” she said. “I have less than twenty-four +hours. I don’t know whose case is the worse, but I rather fancy it is +mine.” + +He heard her go up to her room, and after a while followed and tried +the door. It was locked. + +“Leslie!” he called anxiously, but she did not hear him. + +With her face buried in the pillow, she was saying good-bye to Dick +Alford, and her heart was breaking. + + + + + XXXVIII + +Passing down Wardour Street that afternoon, Dick Alford had seen a +familiar face. A man came out of a shop with a bundle under his arm, +and, recognizing the young man, turned on his tracks and walked +rapidly away. Dick grinned; there was no mistaking Thomas, and he +wondered what was the nature of his purchase. + +He glanced at the window of the store and was puzzled; for Thomas did +not seem the kind of man who would indulge in the frivolities which +were exhibited behind the plate glass. + +He was not in any very good spirits. He had made two calls, and on +each occasion had suffered a gentle rebuff. He was going now to see +his last hope. The big City bank was closed when he arrived, but a +porter admitted him to the presence of the old man who had been his +father’s best friend. The war had turned plain Mr. Jarvis, a country +banker of the ’eighties, into Lord Clanfield, the head of the greatest +banking corporation in Europe. + +He gave Dick a hearty welcome, for the boy had been a favourite of +his. + +“Sit ye down, Dick. What has brought you to this square mile of +trouble?” + +Plainly and briefly Dick stated his business, and Lord Clanfield +frowned. + +“Fifty thousand pounds, my dear boy! Do you want it for yourself?” + +“No, I want it for a very dear friend of mine.” It required an effort +to describe Arthur in these flattering terms. “He has got into a +scrape.” + +His lordship shook his head. + +“It couldn’t be done, Dick. If it was for you, to get _you_ out of a +scrape--but then, you’re not the kind of lad who’d ever get into +one--I’d give it to you out of my own pocket.” + +“You couldn’t lend it to me on my personal security?” + +The banker smiled. + +“Lending it to you, Dick, would be giving it to you! What chance have +you of repaying fifty thousand pounds? A second son! Harry is marrying +this year, and there will be an heir to the estate next year! No, no, +old boy, it would be impossible.” + +Then, in his desperation, Dick Alford told the story, suppressing only +the names. The old man listened with a grave face. + +“He has got to go through with it, Dick,” he said. “If you get him out +of this trouble he’ll probably get into worse. The poor little +girl--I’m sorry for her. Of course, you’re speaking about Gwyn? No, +no, you needn’t be afraid, I sha’n’t say a word. But I’ve had my +suspicions for a long time. Let him take his medicine, Dick, and do +what you can for the girl. Once that fellow is behind bars and the +whole wretched trouble is at an end, come to me for any money you +want--for the girl. I knew her father and her uncle, and the +great-uncle who left her a lot of money, which I suppose has gone up +in smoke with the rest, and I’m willing to go a long way to help her. +But you mustn’t pledge your credit, Dick, for that worthless man.” + +Dick came away from the City, weary and sick at heart, too dispirited +even to interview the fourth man he had intended to see. His only hope +now was his brother, and he knew Harry’s obstinacy too well to expect +help from that quarter, which could not even be asked for except by +betraying as the borrower the man for whom he had conceived an +unreasoning hatred. + +Monkey Puttler met him at the station and had a piece of news to +impart. + +“That bird Thomas is still in the neighbourhood,” he said. “He’s been +living in Gilder’s cottage.” + +“Indeed?” said Dick. He was really not concerned with Thomas or Gilder +or anything in the wide world except the heartbreak that awaited +Leslie Gwyn. + +“Gilder’s been down to-day. Ascot’s all over, isn’t it? Anyway, he was +dressed like a doctor in new clothes--top hat and everything.” + +“Where has he been?” asked Dick, with sudden interest. + +“I don’t know. I guess he went to call on Mr. Gwyn. I saw his car +coming out of the drive, and he looked very pleased with himself. And +I’ve found the rifle.” + +“Where did you find it?” asked Dick quickly. + +“Up against the river. Someone must have thrown it in, but didn’t +throw hard enough. There were three or four cartridges still in the +magazine--a sporting Lee-Enfield. They’ve tried the knife and they’ve +tried the gun; I wonder what new one they’ll put out on us.” + +“Have you seen Harry?” + +“Saw him this afternoon,” said the cheerful Puttler. “He worked that +chesil gag on me, but I didn’t give him my views.” + +In spite of his anxiety, Dick smiled. + +“Have you any views on chesils?” + +“Yes, sir,” said the other confidently. “He thinks chesil is an +instrument. He doesn’t seem to realize that in Elizabethan times +‘chesil’ meant ‘gravel’ or ‘shingle.’” + +Dick stopped and stared at him. + +“Is that so?” he asked. + +“Ever heard of a place called Chelsea?” said the informative Mr. +Puttler. “Do you know what ‘Chelsea’ means? It means ‘Chesil Ey’ or +Shingle Island. Why, the word isn’t even obsolete; you’ll find it in +any dictionary. The new ‘chesil’ that is spoken of in the Diary is a +load of shingle he got from Brighthelmstone. That’s Brighton. Now, why +did the old bird want shingle? Obviously to put in some kind of +concrete or mortar.” + +“For heaven’s sake don’t start on the treasure, or I shall go mad!” +groaned Dick. “At any rate, you don’t believe in its existence, thank +goodness!” + +“I do,” said the surprising man emphatically. “I’m as sure that those +thousand bars of gold are in existence as I’m certain you and I are +walking up this road. Your brother’s got a book down that shows all +Queen Elizabeth’s private accounts; there’s the million she stole from +the Spanish ships that put into an English port when they were on +their way to Holland; there’s the money she got from Drake and the +other seagoing burglars; but there’s not a hint of the Chelford gold.” + +“Then where is it?” asked Dick in exasperation. + +“Ask me before I go,” replied the other cryptically. + + + + + XXXIX + +A dozen letters were written and burnt in the fireplace of her +bedroom before Leslie composed the one that was eventually placed in +an envelope and addressed to “Fabrian Gilder, Esq., 35, Regency +Mansions, London.” She had written: + + + Dear Mr. Gilder: + + I agree to your terms. The money or equivalent shares must be + deposited in the Horsham branch of the Southern & Midland Bank, in the + name of Leslie Gilder, so that I may have control of the account from + the moment I am married. I do not expect you to trust the word of one + of my family, and I presume that you will wish the marriage to take + place in the next few days. Will you please make arrangements for the + ceremony, and tell me when and where I am to meet you? I expect it to + be at a registrar’s office by special license. I can only say that, + although this marriage is not of my seeking, you may trust me to be a + loyal wife. + + Very sincerely, + Leslie Gwyn. + + +The last post was collected by a motor-cyclist postman at ten o’clock +from a little wall box not a hundred yards from the house. There was +an earlier collection, but somehow she could not bring herself to post +the letter until the very last moment. Ten o’clock was an unusually +late hour for a country collection, but it was the last box on the +postman’s route and was an especially convenient arrangement, not only +for the inhabitants of Fossaway Manor, but for the tenant farmers who +wished to notify their daily consignments. + +She saw Arthur at dinner after the letter was written, but beyond the +exchange of a few commonplaces they did not speak. He went back to his +study, carrying his coffee with him, and she was left alone to the +contemplation of the dark future. She wished she had seen Dick before +she wrote, but it was too late now. Gilder had asked her to give him +his answer that night, and she had promised. + +What would Dick say? She screwed up her eyes tightly as though to hide +the vision of him, and her lips trembled. + +“No weakness, Danton!” It was a favourite quotation of her childhood, +and had been the slogan at all moments when tears were near at hand. + +She took the letter from her bag and looked at it. Stamped, addressed, +she had but to drop this into the little letter box, and thereafter +the angle of life was twisted to a new prospect: the bleakest, +dreariest prospect that any woman had faced. + +And it had to be done. The hands of the clock moved slowly and +inexorably round. Nine o’clock--a quarter after--twenty minutes before +ten; she set her teeth and got up from the little table where she had +been trying in vain to concentrate her mind upon a game of patience, +went upstairs and put on her hat and coat, and, with the letter +tightly gripped in her hand, stole down across the hall, opened the +door, and went out. + +It was very dark; she could scarcely see her way down the drive. Clear +of the overhanging trees, her eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, +made out the road. She thought that she saw somebody on the road ahead +and heard footsteps, but she was nervous, she told herself. +Nevertheless, she stopped and listened. She heard nothing and went on. + +A few minutes’ walk brought her to the pillar box, and here she +waited. A big spot of rain fell upon her hand; she heard the sough of +the wind through the trees; and then, far away, she saw a tiny star of +light and heard the faint clank of the postman’s cycle. She thrust the +letter into the box and turned to retrace her steps. + +Then it occurred to her that the postman would pass her, and she did +not wish to see him. Which way should she go? Her heart and +inclinations beckoned to Fossaway Manor. Dick--she must see Dick. She +fought against the madness; the postman’s light grew brighter. Then +she ran down toward the cut road, through the gate and up the slope to +the Abbey. There she sat down to recover her breath, and presently she +saw the reflection of a lamp, heard the thunder of the postman’s +motor-cycle as it passed. + +There went fate, on that dark road, noisily, bumpily. The red light +faded from sight, and she got up, walked leisurely past the Abbey +ruins, without one thought of ghosts or haunting spirits, and took the +lower and shorter path to the Manor. + +She was halfway across the long meadow when she stopped. Fear was +clutching at her heart; she could feel the flesh creep on her neck, +and, turning, looked back. Somebody was following her. Consciously she +had heard no sound, but to her heart flashed a warning signal that set +it racing. She could see nobody. It must be her imagination, she told +herself; yet here, reason and instinct were at variance, and instinct +won. She _knew_ there was somebody immediately behind her, less than +twenty yards away. + +She could intercept the long drive to Fossaway Manor before she could +reach the house. She decided to make the longer journey, and, turning +abruptly, walked with quick strides across the velvety grass-land in +the direction of the elms which flanked the drive. Once she looked +back, and thought she saw a moving shape. She quickened her steps, +broke into a gentle run. She must not allow blind panic to overcome +her, she told herself. + +Again she looked back but saw nothing, and, ashamed of her fear, she +slowed to a walk and reached the elms and the drive with heartfelt +thankfulness. Exactly how she should break in upon Dick she did not +know. She hoped he would be in his study, and that she could call him +out from the lawn. + +Nearer and nearer she came to the house, and then, of a sudden, she +whipped round. Somebody was behind her: she was sure of it now. She +heard the sound of feet upon the gravelled road. + +“Who is there?” she called. + +There was no answer, but the footsteps stopped. They might be walking +on the grassy verge, she thought, and, turning, ran up the drive. +Whoever followed was running, too. She heard a sibilant whisper and +her blood turned cold. Then, as she emerged from the trees, she saw a +figure against the gray sheen of the round pound, saw the shape of +it--the long habit and the heavy cowl. With a scream she flew. + +The drive continuing past the window would bring her to Dick’s study. +She saw with a gasp of relief that the door was open and a light +shining inside. Over her shoulder she saw the queer shape again, and +screamed. In an instant Dick was out of the study and had caught her +in his arms. + +He listened to her breathless story, then, almost carrying her to his +room, he put her in a chair and ran out into the night. In a few +minutes he came back. + +“I saw nothing,” he said. “It was the Black Abbot, you say?” + +“I don’t know; something in a cowl and habit: I’m sure of that.” + +It was a bad introduction to the story she had to tell; indeed, in her +terror, she almost forgot the object of her visit. + +“Did Arthur come with you?” + +She shook her head. + +“Dick, I know,” were the first words she said when she had recovered +her breath. + +“You know what?” + +“About Lady Chelford’s money.” + +She saw his face change. + +“Did he tell you?” he asked, the red coming into his face. + +“Not Arthur, no. It was Gilder.” + +“Mr. Gilder told you? I knew he had been and I knew he had called. Was +that why he came?” + +She nodded. + +“For nothing else?” + +“Yes; he came to offer me the money.” + +She saw his eyes narrow. + +“He did? At a price, of course?” + +She nodded. + +“And you--what did you say?” + +She found a difficulty in breathing; speech for the moment was +impossible without making a fool of herself. + +“You agreed?” + +She nodded again. + +“I have just posted the letter to him,” she said. + +She saw him bite his lip and a red spot of blood showed. If he had +stormed at her, cursed her, she could have borne it; but he did no +more than look at her. There was nothing in his gaze that was +uncharitable. + +“Oh, Dick, Dick!” She was sobbing on his breast and his arms were +about her, comforting her. + +“You can’t do it, my dear. Anything is better than that.” + +She shook her head, incapable of speech. + +“I tell you anything is better than that.” His voice was hard, +uncompromising. “Better Arthur go down for five years than that you +should live in hell all your life! I know that man--I know his +kind--it isn’t his years, it’s his mind and his evil heart. If he were +twenty I would say, ‘No, you can’t do it, Leslie.’” + +She pushed herself gently away from him and dried her eyes. + +“I must, Dick; I have given my word. I cannot trick him. The last +thing I said to him was ‘If I tell you I will marry you, you can make +the arrangements about the money--I will not fail you.’ I cannot fail +him; I cannot fail myself.” + +His face was drawn and haggard. + +“This can’t be!” he said. “Something will happen. I don’t know +what----” + +He stopped. + +“What’s that?” she gasped, terrified. + +From somewhere in the grounds came a shrill shriek that was hardly +human. Again it came: a sobbing, blubbering shriek that turned her +heart to ice. + +“Stay here,” said Dick, as he made for the open window, but she flung +herself upon him. + +“You sha’n’t go! You mustn’t go!” she cried wildly. “Dick, something +dreadful is happening. Oh, God! listen, Dick!” + +This time the shriek was shriller, and died away into a thin wail of +sound. + +He pushed her aside and ran out on to the lawn. + +“From which way did it come, do you think?” + +“Over there.” She pointed ahead to the drive. + +“Let me come with you--do, please do!” she begged. “I dare not be left +alone.” + +He hesitated. + +“Come,” he said roughly, and took her arm with a grip that made her +wince. + +Together they ran toward Elm Drive, and then he stopped. + +“Go back and get my hand lamp. It’s on my writing table,” he said. “I +will wait here for you.” + +She fled back to the room, took up the lamp with fingers that trembled +so violently that she could scarcely hold it, and rejoined him. + +“It was over there. I heard something a second ago. If I hadn’t +promised to wait…” + +He turned on the light, swinging its rays over the ground before him, +and going ahead of her. Presently she saw him stop and a circle of +light focus on something black that lay huddled on the grass. + +“Stay where you are,” he commanded, “and turn your back.” + +A voice hailed him in the distance: it was Puttler, and, guided by the +lamp, he came on the scene. + +“Who is it?” he asked. + +“I don’t know,” said Dick in a low voice. + +At his feet was the huddled figure of a man. He was lying on his face, +and was attired from head to foot in a long black habit around which a +rope was girdled. + +“The Black Abbot?” said Puttler incredulously. “Is he dead?” + +“Look,” said Dick, and pointed to the wet shoulder and the horror of +the throat. + +Puttler knelt down, and, putting his arms under the figure, turned it +on its back. + +The face was covered by a black cowl, and this he gently raised. + +“Merciful God!” said Dick, in a hushed voice. + +He was looking into the gray face of Thomas, the footman. + + + + + XL + +“Thomas--the Black Abbot!” + +Dick looked at the pitiable thing, bewildered; and then he remembered +the girl and, with a low word of instruction to Puttler, went back to +her. + +“Is he--dead?” she asked fearfully. + +“Yes, I’m afraid he is.” + +“Who--who is it?” + +“One of the servants,” he said evasively. + +“Not Thomas?” + +Why she should think it was Thomas she could not for the life of her +tell. + +“Yes--Thomas.” + +She made no inquiries, and they walked back without a word to his +room. He rang the bell, and, to the footman who answered: + +“Ask Mr. Glover to come to me,” he said. + +The old butler came apprehensively. All the servants had heard the +scream in the park. + +“Where is his lordship?” + +“He went up to bed about five minutes ago, Mr. Alford.” + +“Had he heard--anything?” + +“No, sir. He’s so particular about our talking of the Black Abbot----” + +“How do you know it was the Black Abbot?” asked Dick sharply, and the +butler explained that somebody had seen the figure in the grounds. + +“He was trying to open a window. One of the maids looking out of her +window saw him walking on the paved path below, and raised an alarm. +Has he hurt anybody, Mr. Richard?” + +“No, he has hurt nobody,” said Dick. + +He drew the butler out into the hall and closed the door behind him. + +“A man has been found in the grounds in the dress of a black +abbot--and he is dead--murdered!” + +“Good Lord, sir!” said the startled servant. “Is it anybody we know?” + +“Thomas,” said Dick laconically, and the old man staggered back +against the panelled wall. + +“Not our Thomas? Thomas Luck, the man who was dismissed?” + +Dick nodded. + +“Get the servants to bed. Tell them that the scream came from somebody +who was skylarking and that we caught him--anything you like.” Then, +catching a glimpse of the man’s ashen face: “First of all you’d better +go down into the dining-room and help yourself to a good stiff glass +of brandy and water; you look a corpse, man!” + +“Thomas!” muttered the old man. “It’s terrible! Do you think----” + +Dick cut short his question. + +“Do as I tell you; get the servants to bed. The police will be up here +soon enough, but I’ll arrange that your staff are not questioned till +the morning.” + +He went back to the girl. + +“As for you, young lady,” he said, with a grim smile, “I seem to spend +my life taking you back to your home.” + +“Couldn’t I stay?” she asked timidly. + +Dick shook his head. + +“We shall have to call in the police, and I want to keep your name out +of the business. Arthur is at home?” + +“Yes, Arthur is at home,” she said listlessly. + +At that moment the telephone bell rang and he took up the instrument. + +“Is that Lord Chelford’s house?” said an unfamiliar voice. + +“Yes,” said Dick shortly. + +“I’m speaking from the sub post office. That isn’t Lord Chelford +speaking?” + +“No, it’s Mr. Alford,” said Dick. + +“Well, listen, Mr. Alford. Have you sent anything very important from +the local post-box?” + +“Why?” asked Dick quickly. + +“Because our roundsman reported that the box had been tampered with. +He couldn’t get in his key, so the letters that had been posted +between six and ten have not yet been collected.” + +Dick uttered an exclamation. + +“Right! When it’s cleared, will you ask the postman to bring the +letters up to the hall? There are one or two that I want to withdraw.” + +The man at the other end of the wire hesitated. + +“Why, in the special circumstances, yes,” he said, and Dick hung up +the receiver and turned slowly to the girl. + +“The letter box hasn’t been cleared.” + +Slowly the significance of the words dawned upon her. + +“What shall I do?” she whispered. + +“Give me authority to withdraw your letter to Gilder. There are six +more days.” + +She held her breath. For a second a vision of her brother in convict’s +garb came to her eyes, and then she looked at the man before her. +Something of his vitality, his confidence, passed to her soul. + +“I will do as you tell me,” she said, in a voice little above a +whisper. “But, Dick, what will happen?” + +“I am going to do my duty,” said Dick. + +And all that sleepless night, as she tossed from side to side in her +bed, she pondered those words but could find no solution to their +mystery. + + + + + XLI + +Puttler, unshaven and weary-eyed, dragged himself to the study and +poured out a large cup of tea that the butler had brought in, and +drank it at a gulp. + +“Scotland Yard has given me charge of this case, for which you may +thank your stars!” he said. “Considering we’ve had to do all our work +between eleven and four, I think I’ve set up a record in +investigation. Thomas’s monkish attire was hired, as you thought, from +a theatrical costumier’s in Wardour Street----” + +“I saw him coming out with a bundle under his arm and wondered what +use he could find for fancy dress,” interrupted Dick. + +“That is fact No. 1,” counted Puttler. “Fact No. 2 is that he was +making ready for a getaway. He even tried to open your local letter +box, probably earlier in the evening. Do you send money by post?” + +“My brother does, frequently. It’s a habit I’ve tried to cure, without +success.” + +“That is fact No. 2,” said Puttler. “He couldn’t open the box, but we +found the key on him. He had moved everything of value from Gilder’s +house. I found his portmanteau packed and cached in the field where +you say Gilder parks his car. And obviously he was coming to relieve +your brother of any loose cash he might find in the library. I found +his tools scattered on the flower bed under one of the library +windows.” + +“How was he killed?” asked Dick. + +Puttler scratched his head. + +“By a regiment of soldiers, to judge from the appearance of him!” + +They talked till the sleepy-eyed Mr. Glover staggered in and asked +permission to go to bed, and then they walked out into the cold +morning and joined the party of police that were searching the +grounds. + +“I suppose the best thing we can do is to go to bed also,” said Dick, +and at that instant Puttler stooped and picked something from the long +grass. + +It was a long dagger, its steel hilt black with age, the blade coated +with something that was still wet. They looked at one another. + +“Do you know this?” + +Dick nodded mutely. + +“What is it?” asked Puttler. + +“It is the dagger that once belonged to the Black Abbot’s slayer,” +said Dick. + +The man’s jaw dropped. + +“Where does it come from?” + +Dick shook his head. + +“The last time I saw it,” he said slowly, “it was hanging in the hall +of Arthur Gwyn’s house.” + + + + + XLII + +“Curiouser and curiouser,” said Puttler, who had literary leanings. + +Dick heard his name shouted in an agitated voice, and, looking round, +saw the butler running toward him, no longer sleepy-eyed, but very +alert and white. + +“What is the matter, Clover?” + +“The maid… foolish girl only just told me… frightened!” gasped the old +man, and pointed to the open study windows. + +Dick walked quickly back, followed by Puttler. Drooping in his study +chair was a plain-looking girl, wearing over her coarse nightdress a +man’s overcoat; her lank hair falling over her shoulders, she +presented a sight which at any other time would have moved Dick Alford +to laughter. + +“Now, Alice, tell Mr. Alford what you told me,” said the old butler, +beside himself with anxiety. + +It was some time before she could speak coherently, and then she told +her amazing story. She had gone to bed in the servants’ quarters soon +after eleven, with a sick headache. She had heard nothing of the +scream, but at some time--which she placed with accuracy, having an +alarm clock with a phosphorescent dial by her bedside, at 1.45--she +heard “a terrible commotion” downstairs. Her room was immediately +above Lord Chelford’s. She heard shouts and screams, the smashing of +glass and the sounds of a struggle.… + +“Hurry, hurry, woman!” said Dick, frantic with anxiety. “Downstairs, +in his lordship’s room--are you sure?” + +“Yes, sir,” whimpered the girl. “I simply dared not get up for fear I +was murdered. I simply laid there and fainted and come to again.…” + +Before she had finished, Dick was across the hall and running up the +stairs two at a time. He tried the door of Harry’s room but it was +bolted. He called him by name, and hammered on the panels, but there +was no answer. + +“We’d better break in the door,” said Puttler. “Have you got an axe?” + +Mr. Glover went downstairs in search of the tool and returned with an +axe and a case-opener. In a second the panel of the door was smashed +and Dick peered in. + +All the blinds save one were drawn, and the exception afforded +sufficient light to enable him to examine the room. He gave one glance +and his heart sank. The room was in hopeless confusion; the bedclothes +were thrown on the floor, two mirrors, one a cheval glass, had been +smashed; the uncurtained window was open. Dick put his hand through +the hole in the panel and unbolted the door, and the two men ran in. + +There were signs as of a terrible struggle. The wreckage of two chairs +lay scattered about the floor. The table which had held the medicines +was overturned and the floor was littered with broken glass and wet +with the spilt medicines. + +Puttler walked over to the bed. The mattress had been half dragged to +the floor but the pillows were still in their place, and one of these +and a part of the under sheet were smothered with blood. + +Dick examined the open window. Three or four of the leaded panes were +broken, and the steel rod that kept the windows open was bent as +though a heavy weight had rested upon it. The ground was about fifteen +feet below, and immediately under the window a large rhododendron bush +had been broken as though by some heavy weight thrown upon it. Without +hesitation, Dick threw his legs across the window sill, poised himself +a moment, and dropped to the ground. There was blood on the leaves of +the bush; he could find no footprints. Searching the ground, he came +upon a smudge of blood against one of the buttresses of the wall. + +By this time Puttler, who had chosen a more sedate method of descent, +had joined him, and the two men went on, keeping to the paved path, +and searched the ground for a further trail. + +“This happened when we were in the grounds with the local police,” +said Puttler. + +He had been full of self-reproaches all night, and now Dick silenced +him. + +“It can’t be helped,” he said. “The fault is as much mine as yours. I +ought to have expected this, after the killing of Thomas. Knowing what +I know, I should have gone up to his room and stayed there with him, +or at least outside. Poor old Harry! Poor old boy!” + +His voice broke, and for a second there were tears in his eyes. + +“What is this?” + +The paving ended abruptly and was continued with a rolled gravel path, +and there were marks here of something heavy being dragged along. +These ceased as suddenly as the paving. + +“Wait,” said Dick, as the solution dawned upon him. + +He ran back along the wall of the wing, turned the corner, and stopped +before the first of the library windows. It was open, and, drawing +himself up, he dropped into the darkened room and pulled back the +curtains. So far he had not examined the library; his practised eye, +familiar with almost every book on the shelves, told him that somebody +had been here. One section of the shelves had been almost cleared. A +drawer in Harry’s desk had been broken open, and on the floor he found +an empty cash box. + +He made a brief and hurried survey, and, returning to the open by the +window, he rejoined the detective and told him of his discovery. + +Beyond the gravelled path and the dragging marks, all trace of Harry +was lost. Ahead of them, at a distance of four or five hundred yards, +was the river. To the left, and at this point out of sight, the Abbey +ruins. + +An hour’s search brought them no nearer to discovery, and Dick went +back to his room to find the first of the dishevelled reporters +stepping from his hired car. + + + + + XLIII + +Mr. Gilder rose at six o’clock that morning. He had spent a restless +night and welcomed the dawn. The first post did not arrive until eight +o’clock, and he met the postman at the door. There were half a dozen +letters for him, and he carried them into his room and examined them +eagerly. Only one bore a familiar postmark and that was in a hand +which he recognized. He tore it open and found a few scrawled lines. + + + If I don’t see you again, thank you for your kindness, and don’t think + too badly of your old friend. + + +So Thomas had gone! With a curse he threw the letter into the +fireplace and went back, accosting the postman as he descended from +the upper floors of the apartments. + +“No, sir, there’s no other letter.” The man went through his bundle +carefully. “There is another post at half-past nine. The country post +doesn’t usually get into town in time for the first delivery.” + +Gilder slammed the door and went back to sulk in his room. By this +time his servants were about. At nine o’clock they called him to +breakfast, but a glance at the contents of the dishes did not tempt +him. + +His newspapers were placed folded at his hand. He opened the first, +and on the centre page a paragraph arrested his eye. + + + STRANGE HAPPENING AT HAUNTED MANOR HOUSE + + By telephone, Chelfordbury, 2 A. M. + + There has been a tragic sequel to the appearance of the Black Abbot in + the grounds of Fossaway Manor. At eleven o’clock last night, Mr. + Richard Alford, hearing screams, ran out from the house and discovered + the dead body of a man in the habit of a monk. He had been terribly + injured, there being no less than nine wounds. The man has been + identified as Thomas Luck, a former footman in the employ of the Earl + of Chelford. + + +Gilder uttered an exclamation and put down the paper. Thomas! His +first thought was for himself. Suppose it were known that this man had +been staying at his cottage, he would be dragged into the affair; +inquiries would be made, and he would figure at a coroner’s inquest, +if not in a murder trial. Cold-bloodedly he cursed the dead man for +his folly. + +Gilder had no doubt in his mind what had occurred. Thomas had gone +back to Fossaway Manor to get the remainder of the cash out of the box +in Chelford’s room. And then--was Thomas the Black Abbot, after all? +It was quite possible that he had used this disguise on other +occasions, and he was in a position very favourable to such a +masquerade. + +It was nine o’clock; the next editions would be out in an hour. He +could, if he wished, have called up a tradesman he knew in +Chelfordbury, but that would associate his name with the crime, and +these villagers gossiped. + +For the time being, all thought of the expected letter went out of his +mind. But as the tragedy became familiar to him, his thoughts came +back to Leslie Gwyn. The country post would bring the letter, and he +would act generously, munificently. There should be no higgling, no +bargaining, no balancing of accounts to the last penny. Her word would +be sufficient. Overnight he had written his letter, prepared the grand +gesture which should break down the last barrier of mental resistance; +and, with his knowledge of women, he did not doubt what form the +reaction would take. + +He went into the little library where he did his work, opened a +combination wall safe and took out the letter. He had read it again +and again after it had been written, and with every reading he had the +warm glow of complacency which men derive from the contemplation of +their own generosity. + + + My dear Leslie: + + Thank you for your letter. I did not doubt that you would keep your + word. My answer you will find enclosed herewith--a blank check. I make + no stipulations, I extract no conditions. Draw the check for as much + money as your brother requires to clear himself from his dreadful + situation. I have given instructions to the bank that the check is to + be honoured without question. + + Fabrian. + + +It was characteristic of the man, who kept three banking accounts, +that the check was drawn on a branch where his balance was exactly the +amount required to liquidate Arthur Gwyn’s liability. It would have +been a simple matter to fill in the form for the amount required, but +there was a certain nobility, a magnificence, in the blank check. It +was a carte-blanche upon his fortune. He replaced the letter in the +envelope, put it back in the safe and pushed the door close, as the +telephone bell rang. + +The caller was the man who had taken his place at the office. Had he +heard anything about Gwyn? + +“We haven’t seen anything of him since you left, and the letters we +have sent down for him to sign haven’t been returned.” + +Gilder comforted the anxious man with the assurance that Arthur would +put in an appearance some day that week. At the back of his mind there +was still a great uneasiness about the tragedy at Chelfordbury. He +sent his maid out to get a copy of the sporting editions, but they had +not arrived at Regent’s Park, and he decided to take a taxi to +Piccadilly Circus, and, if necessary, to Fleet Street, to get an early +copy. Such a journey would serve the purpose of filling in the time +until the country post arrived. + +It was at Oxford Circus that he saw the first newspaper contents bill. +The first said “Terrible Tragedy in Sussex Village”; the second made +him sit bolt upright in the car: “Well-known Earl Kidnapped and +Murdered.” + + + + + XLIV + +Gilder stopped the taxi and, springing out, grabbed at a paper. A +flaring headline met his eye. + + + LORD CHELFORD CARRIED OFF BY UNKNOWN MURDERER. + FEARED DOUBLE TRAGEDY IN A + SUSSEX VILLAGE + + +There were other sub-headings, but his eye ran down to the story. + + + At 11 o’clock last night screams were heard in the grounds of Fossaway + Manor, the fine old Tudor mansion which has been the country seat of + the Earls of Chelford for hundreds of years. The Hon. Richard Alford, + the only brother of Lord Chelford, ran out, accompanied by + Detective-Sergeant Puttler, who was staying at the Manor as Mr. + Alford’s guest. They were horrified to discover, lying on the grass, + the dead body of a man dressed in the habit of the famous Black Abbot. + The local police were immediately called in, and hardly had their + investigations begun when, unknown to them, a second tragedy occurred. + A maid in the employ of the Earl of Chelford, Alice Barter, who sleeps + in a room over that occupied by Lord Chelford, states that at + one-forty-five o’clock in the morning she heard sounds of a terrific + struggle in his lordship’s room. In terror, she did not report the + occurrence till four o’clock in the morning. Lord Chelford’s door was + broken open and a terrible scene met the eyes of the police officers. + The room was in confusion: mirrors and furniture were smashed; and it + was evident from the indications that a terrible struggle had taken + place, and, either stunned or killed, Lord Chelford was pulled to the + window and thrown out. A search of the grounds left no doubt that his + body was dragged for some distance along the ground. At the moment of + telephoning, says our correspondent, no trace of the body has been + found, but from certain indications there can be little doubt that the + unfortunate peer has been a victim of foul play. Certain of his + property is missing, whilst a cash box which he kept in the drawer of + a desk in his library has been found empty. Detective-Sergeant Puttler + of Scotland Yard is in charge of the case. + + +The newsboy was still waiting for payment. Mr. Gilder put his hand in +his pocket mechanically and, giving him a shilling, reëntered the +cab. + +“Drive me round the Outer Circle,” he said. He wanted time to think. + +In a dim, uneasy way he realized how deeply he was involved in this +tragedy. Fabrian Gilder had a lawyer’s mind. He saw the connection +between Thomas, himself, and Chelford. Thomas, a known thief, +harboured in his cottage, goes out, with or without associates, and is +killed. Chelford, lately engaged to the girl whom Gilder himself was +pursuing, disappears in circumstances which leave no doubt as to his +death. + +Round and round the Regent’s Park Circle the cab moved slowly, and all +the time he was piecing together a version which would sound +plausible. He had known Thomas; was aware that the man was dismissed, +but did not know his criminal connections. The man had asked for +shelter for a few days, and in charity Gilder had given it to him. He +himself was in London when the crime was committed; had +unchallengeable alibis if necessary. + +Perhaps he was exaggerating the seriousness of the situation, he +thought. Putting his head out of the window, he directed the driver to +take him to Regency Mansions. He had forgotten his key; had to ring +the bell, and the maid who opened the door handed him the post, which +had arrived a few minutes before. He examined the three letters +carefully: none was from Leslie. But at the moment he was too occupied +with the happenings at Chelfordbury to be disappointed. + +And then came a thunderbolt. + +“Mr. Arthur Gwyn is waiting for you in the library,” said the girl. + +“Mr. Gwyn!” he said in astonishment. “When did he come?” + +“Ten minutes ago, sir.” + +“Oh!” said Gilder blankly. + +Had she sent her brother instead of a letter? Had she told him… well, +it was a situation that had to be faced. + +He walked carelessly into the little library and found Arthur Gwyn +sitting in one of the easiest chairs, a book in his hand, a +half-smoked cigar between his teeth. + +“Good-morning, Gilder.” + +His voice was cheerful and almost amiable, and for a moment Mr. +Gilder’s heart leapt. This was a friendly ambassador sent by the girl +to make the necessary arrangements. + +“I think we’d better forget all that’s passed,” said Arthur. “We both +lost our temper, and there’s no sense in keeping the old trouble +alive. You don’t mind my smoking?” + +He replaced the book he had taken from one of the shelves, dusted his +knees carefully, and then laughed. + +“You’re thinking of marrying Leslie, I understand?” + +Gilder nodded, watching his visitor closely. + +“Expecting a letter from her? Well, I’m afraid you won’t get it.” + +“Why not?” asked the other, with a sudden tightening at his heart. + +“Because friend Thomas, who spent the evening in wholesale +robbery--incidentally, he stole a very ancient dagger from my hall, a +silver teapot, and a few other etceteras--added to his infamy by +attempting to rob a letter box. He didn’t succeed in opening the box, +but he put the lock out of order.” + +Gilder breathed again. + +“So there was no collection, eh?” he said huskily. “Well, that is +rather a relief.” + +There was a quizzical smile in Arthur Gwyn’s eyes; the discolouration +on the left cheek had faded to a pale green. + +“I understand you’re going to help me?” + +“I am going to get you out of your trouble, yes.” + +“It occurred to me”--Arthur leaned sideways and very carefully dusted +the ash of his cigar into a silver tray on the library table--“it +occurred to me that you might care to give me proof and evidence of +your good feeling.” + +“I don’t understand you,” said Gilder. + +Arthur hesitated. + +“I wondered whether you would write me a letter, to the effect that +you are lending me this very large sum. You see, Gilder, although you +plan to marry my sister, I am vain enough to wish that it should not +be regarded as a gift or the price--the price of her marriage--but as +a loan to me.” He laughed. “Don’t look at me like that, my dear +fellow. I am not asking you for money, I am seeking a salve to my +conscience. I don’t want people to say ‘Leslie Gwyn was sold for fifty +thousand pounds.’ I want to produce evidence that you did no more than +lend me the money.” + +A slow smile dawned on Gilder’s face. + +“There’s no objection to that,” he said. “I’ll give it to you now, if +you like. Do you mind if I address you as ‘Dear--Arthur’?” + +“Charmed,” murmured Arthur. + +“One has to keep up the pretence of friendliness,” said Gilder as he +wrote rapidly; “and really, I’ve no strong feeling against you, Gwyn. +You’ve been a useful man to me.” + +“Damned useful,” said Arthur, without heat. + +The man blotted the letter, brought it across, and Arthur Gwyn read it +carefully. + +“Thank you,” he said, folded and put it into his pocket. “You may +think I’m rather weak--which of course I am--and vain. I’m afraid +there’s no doubt about that! You will hear from Leslie when the mail +box is cleared--that is, if the letters are intact. There is some +suspicion that our friend Thomas, baffled in his attempt to open the +box, and inspired with that instinct for destruction which is one of +the characteristics of the unbalanced criminal, threw in a couple of +lighted matches. I had the curiosity to smell at the letter slot, and +I think it is very likely that the police theory is correct.” + +He rose, took up his silk hat, and stifled a yawn. + +“We’ve had rather an exciting night in my part of the world. You’ve +probably read all about it in the newspapers?” + +“Has Chelford been found?” + +Arthur shook his head. + +“Not at the time I left,” he said. “Unfortunately Leslie was a +witness, if not to the murder, to the finding of the first body. The +poor little girl was knocked all to pieces. Don’t bother her for a day +or two--do you mind?” + +He held out his hand and Gilder took the soft, cool palm in his. + +“I think we shall get on together, Gwyn.” + +“I’m sure we shall,” said Arthur. “Do you mind showing me the way out? +Your flat is rather like a box of tricks, and I’m never sure which is +a door and which is a cupboard.” + +Arthur dispensed with his car. A taxicab took him into the City, and +another cab to a small flat in Gray’s Inn where he slept when he was +in town. He changed into a plain blue suit, carefully and reluctantly +shaved off his moustache, and took from his pocket a pair of newly +purchased horn-rimmed pince-nez. Surveying himself in the glass with a +certain amount of satisfaction, he sat down and wrote a letter to his +sister, then, taking a final survey of the little flat where he had +spent many a happy bachelor evening, he locked the door, went out and +posted the letter in the Holborn post office. + +Another taxicab took him to Croyden aërodrome, where he arrived in +the early afternoon. He showed the officer his brand-new passport. + +“That’s in order, Mr. Steele,” said the official. “Your taxi is +waiting.” + +His “taxi” was a sturdy two-seater aëroplane. Five minutes after his +arrival he was zooming up to the blue, and was soon a speck in the +hazy sky, heading for France, possibly for Genoa, as likely as not, by +an Italian liner, for Rio de Janeiro. Everything depended on how Mr. +Fabrian Gilder swallowed the pill which Arthur had administered. + + + + + XLV + +“Burnt,” said Dick, with considerable satisfaction. “The poor brute +did some good in his life--Heaven forgive me for speaking ill of him. +Where is your Arthur?” + +“My Arthur went to town very early,” said Leslie. “There is no news of +Harry?” + +He shook his head. + +“None,” he said. + +He looked dreadfully tired and broken, she thought. + +“I’m so sorry!” + +He took her hand and patted it. + +“I wish you would go away somewhere, Leslie,” he said. “Couldn’t you +take a long voyage?” + +“Why?” she asked. + +“I want you out of the way. I don’t exactly know why, but I’m rather +worried about you. Get Arthur----” + +He stopped. It was quite possible that Arthur would not be a free +agent at the end of the week; and, reading his thoughts, she smiled +sadly. + +“What am I to do about Mr. Gilder?” + +“Let him write. He is hardly likely to leave you in peace. But you +understand, of course, that until Harry is found there is no danger to +your brother. Until he appears, no action can be taken.” + +She looked at him pityingly. + +“Do you think he is alive?” she asked. + +“Yes,” he replied shortly. “Puttler doesn’t think so, but I do. We are +dragging the Ravensrill to-day, but it is not deep enough to hide--a +body.” + +He covered his face with his hands. + +“I wish I were a million miles away, perched on some solitary star,” +he said wearily. + +She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. + +“You’d be very hot,” she said, with a pathetic attempt at gaiety, +“unless I have forgotten all my astronomy.” + +He put his arm about her shoulder and hugged her. It was an +affectionate brotherly hug, and no more. + +“You’ve got to go away, my dear. What about the prosaic Bournemouth? +Or the vulgar but wholesome Margate?” + +Again she shook her head. + +“Or London, which I am told is a health resort?” + +“You’re very anxious for me to go really?” + +“Very,” he said, with an emphasis that betrayed his concern. + +She drew back from him and faced him. + +“Dick, will you tell me something without any evasion?” + +He nodded. + +“Do you think that I am in any personal danger?” + +“I am sure of it,” he said. “It would be cruel not to tell you the +truth. The shot that was fired the other day was intended for you. It +was fired by a man who is as brilliant a shot as any in England, and +the height of the bullet mark told us that it was aimed directly at +your heart.” + +She listened, stupefied, unbelieving. + +“But why?” she asked, bewildered. “I have no enemies, Dick; I have +wronged nobody. Who could do such a wicked thing?” + +“If I told you, you would perhaps be no wiser,” he said. “There is a +man in this world who hates you and hates me, and has good reason from +his point of view. Now that I’ve told you the truth, will you go?” + +She thought awhile. + +“I’ll wait until Arthur comes back,” she said, “and ask him to take me +to London.” + +And with that he was satisfied. + +He was leaving the house when Puttler’s cycle swung into the drive. + +“Anything wrong?” asked Dick quickly. + +“I don’t know. Look at this.” + +He took from his pocket a large sheet of foolscap paper; roughly +printed in pencil were the words: + + + Lord Chelford is safe. Don’t search for him, or he will be killed. + + The Black Abot. + + +The word “Abbot” was printed with one “b.” The placard had been found +hanging to the twig of a tree, the jagged hole at the top showing +where the mystery man had threaded the paper. + +“We found it halfway between the ruins and the house,” said Puttler. +“Curiously enough, we had only been searching that part of the grounds +a quarter of an hour before.” + +Dick handed the warning back to him. + +“Is that a bad joke or do you believe this paper?” asked Leslie +anxiously. “And, Dick, couldn’t I be some help? I know Fossaway Manor +so well, and I am sure there must be places where the police haven’t +looked. Do you know there are tiny caves in the banks of the +Ravensrill?” + +“They’ve all been searched, and they’re not big enough to hold a +large-sized dog,” said Dick. “If you want to be helpful you can come +up to the Manor and put my correspondence in order. I am afraid it has +been neglected in these days, and there are a whole lot of bills and +things to be entered up.” + +He had no real need for her, he thought, but whilst she was in the +neighbourhood he was anxious that she should be under his eyes. She +may have suspected something of this, but she gratefully accepted the +offer. + +“Drive up,” he warned her; “keep to the main road and the main drive. +Don’t stop for anybody, however well you know them, and take no notice +if you hear somebody shout at you.” + +In spite of her anxiety she laughed. + +“How very alarming that sounds!” + +After he had gone she busied herself with the affairs of the house, +arranged the dinner for that night, and was on the point of leaving, +when somebody rang the front-door bell. She was putting on her hat +before the mirror in her bedroom when the maid came up. + +“Miss Wenner?” cried Leslie, aghast, and only then did she remember +that at Arthur’s request she had written inviting the girl to spend +the week-end with them. + +Here was a complication she had not foreseen. And yet, in the space +between her room and the hall, she had made up her mind, that, if +there was one thing she welcomed at this moment, it was the society of +a woman. + +Mary Wenner was in the hall and greeted her as effusively as if they +had been bosom friends, though in truth Leslie scarcely knew the girl. + +“My dear, I’m so glad to be back in this lovely old country!” she +said. “I couldn’t help thinking, as I was driving past dear old +Fossaway Manor, how perfectly peaceful everything is!” + +Leslie could have screamed! Peaceful! + +“Perhaps it isn’t quite as peaceful as it looks, Miss Wenner,” she +said drily. + +“Call me Mary,” begged the girl. “I do so dislike formalism and +standoffness! It will be so awkward if Arthur calls me by my name and +you call me Miss… I mean…?” + +“Well, I’ll call you Mary with pleasure,” said Leslie. “I think you +know my name?” + +“A beautiful name,” said the ecstatic Miss Wenner. “The only thing +against it is, you can’t tell whether it’s a boy’s or a girl’s, can +you? Don’t you sometimes find that very embarrassing?” + +“I’ve never found it so yet,” said the girl, leading the way up to her +room. + +She waited till Mary had taken off her hat before she gave her news. + +“Arthur is in town, but he’ll be back to-night,” she said. “Have you +seen the newspapers?” + +Miss Wenner shook her head vigorously. + +“I never read the newspapers,” she said reprovingly. “They’re always +full of lies, and after the way they roasted me over my breach----” +She coughed. + +For a moment Leslie had a wild idea that the reference was an +indelicate one, and then the truth came to her. + +“Did you ever have a breach of promise action?” she asked, in +astonishment. + +Mary was very red, and her embarrassment was painful to witness. + +“I did have a little trouble with a young gentleman I went to business +with,” she admitted. “I was a mere girl at the time, young and silly +as it were, and I must say that I felt that I had to stand up for my +rights. A lot of people think it was unladylike, but I say that a girl +who is an orphan without parents must look after herself. I got fifty +pounds, and it wasn’t worth the trouble and the nuisance.” + +There was something about the girl that Leslie liked. Unconsciously +she was amusing, but there was a sterling value in her, she thought, +and Leslie had an uncanny knowledge of women. + +“No, I never read the papers, Miss Gwyn. After being told by the +_Daily Megaphone_ that I had a curious mentality--I shall never forget +those words--I’ve given up the papers.” + +“Then you haven’t heard what has happened at Fossaway Manor?” asked +Leslie. + +The startled girl listened, her mouth an O of amazement and horror. + +“Thomas? Why, I was only talking with him the other day! You don’t +think Harry is killed?” + +Leslie shook her head. + +“I don’t know what to think. Mr. Alford is very confident that he is +still alive, and they have just received a strange message which seems +to bear that out.” + +The girl was shocked, and Leslie could not help feeling that she was +hurt, too. + +“Harry Chelford was the best fellow in the world,” said Mary quietly. +“He was a little irritable and difficult to get on with--you don’t +mind me talking about him?” + +“No,” said Leslie. “You probably do not know that our engagement was +broken off?” + +This seemed to be a greater shock still. + +“Broken off? I’ll bet that was Dick Alford’s doing----” + +“Mr. Alford had nothing to do with it,” said Leslie, and Mary made a +rapid reëstimation of Dick Alford’s character, and she was eminently +adjustable. + +“Dick Alford is not a bad fellow really,” she said diplomatically. +“There is a great deal about him that I like. And he is _so_ +good-looking!” + +She was a shrewd, discerning gamin, who had won through by her ability +to adjust her views at a moment’s notice. And in a fraction of a +second she had realized that perfect harmony with Arthur Gwyn’s sister +could be ensured only if her views on Richard Alford underwent a very +thorough reorganization. + +“I didn’t get on very well with him; I used to think he was a bit +overbearing. But it must have been rather a trial for him, poor +fellow!” A pause, and then: “I seem to have come at a pretty bad time, +Miss--Leslie. Would you like me to go back to London?” + +“Wait,” said her hostess, and, running downstairs, called Dick on the +’phone. He had just returned to the house as she rang. + +“Surely,” he said. “Bring her up. I think that would be rather a good +idea. And, Leslie, perhaps you would like to stay here the night. +Arthur can come along, too--you might leave him a note or wire him.” + +The idea was so appealing that she put no obstacles in the way, and +returned to carry Dick’s invitation to her guest. Miss Wenner accepted +with an alacrity that was almost indelicate. + +“I may be able to be of some help,” she said. “I know the ins and outs +of that place, and all the nooks and crannies. It is the treasure +that’s done it all, Leslie! He was always after that silly Life Water, +and I shouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t got into bad company.” + +“But Harry never went out.” + +“Oh, yes, he did,” was the surprising reply. “He often slipped off to +London when Mr. Alford was away. And there was something queer about +it, because Harry made me promise I would never tell Mr. Richard, as +he called him.” + +“How often did that happen?” asked Leslie. + +“Sometimes once a month, sometimes twice or three times a month. He +never went to the front drive; he followed the field path through the +cutting, and I used to arrange for a Horsham motor cab to meet him. He +used to go from Horsham and come back the same way, and I’ve known him +to ring me up before he came back, to ask me if Mr. Richard had +returned.” + +Leslie wondered if Dick knew this. + +“I’ve known him to go as many as three times a week when Mr. Richard +was up in Yorkshire, looking after the Doncaster estate,” added Mary, +and, virtuously: “I hope I have not let any cats out of the bag: all +young men are a bit wild.” + + + + + XLVI + +The adaptability of Miss Wenner was never more strikingly +illustrated than in her greeting of Dick Alford. There was a coyness, +a shy friendliness in her glance, which might have deceived an +uninitiated spectator into believing that they were old lovers, parted +by cruel circumstances and meeting after an absence of years. Dick, +weary and heartbroken as he was, found in her the first cause for +amusement he had had in twenty-four hours. + +He had had rooms prepared for them in the east wing, which was +opposite to that in which his own room and Harry’s were situated. +There were two small apartments with a connecting door, which he had +assigned to Leslie and her guest. The next room had been prepared for +Arthur, and was adjoining. + +“I’ve moved Puttler to this wing, too,” he explained, “though I don’t +suppose the poor fellow will get very much sleep for a night or two.” + +After he had shown them the rooms he took his departure, and Leslie +followed him along the corridor and overtook him at the head of the +stairs. + +“There is really nothing I can do, I suppose, Dick?” For she had +accepted the story of the disordered accounts as being a plausible +excuse on his part to get her to Fossaway Manor. + +To her surprise he said, “Yes,” and took her below to the study. + +“Here are the estate accounts. I haven’t touched them for three or +four days. Do you know anything about figures?” + +She nodded wisely. + +“Will you start in by checking these wages sheets? You’ll find the +books on the shelf, and you will be able to get the hang of my rather +simple system.” + +He gave her instructions how to deal with the bills that had +accumulated, and left her very contented. It was half-an-hour before +she remembered that she had left Mary Wenner in her room, and hurried +upstairs to apologize. She was to find Mary a very capable assistant, +for not only was the girl efficient in her work, but she knew all the +domestic mysteries of Fossaway. + +The two girls lunched alone, for Dick had sent a message to say that +he would not be back in time. + +“The place gives me the creeps,” said Mary with a shudder, and her +nervousness was not affectation. “The whole thing is frightful! Poor +Thomas killed, and Harry taken away heaven knows where---- Oh!” She +sprang to her feet, and her face had gone pale. “I know where Harry +is,” she said, quivering with excitement. “I know, I know!” + +“Where?” asked the wondering Leslie. + +The girl ran out of the room into the hall. + +“Where is Mr. Alford?” she asked quickly. “I must see him at once.” + +“He telephoned from Red Farm,” said Leslie. “Perhaps we can get him.” + +She turned the handle of the old-fashioned instrument and gave the Red +Farm number. + +“Is that you, Dick? How lucky!” + +“I expected it was you. Is anything wrong?” he asked anxiously. + +“No; Mary Wenner has something she wants to tell you.” She lowered her +voice. “She thinks she knows where Harry is hidden.” + +There was a silence at the other end. + +“She’s not----” + +“No, no, no.” With Mary within earshot, it was impossible to assure +Dick that the girl was not trying to make a sensation. + +“I’ll come over right away,” he said. + +They went out to the head of the drive to meet him, and Mary offered +her theory. + +“I must have been mad not to have told you about this before. I don’t +know where my wits have gone,” she said. “After all my +treasure-hunting and the horrible experience I had that night with +Gilder, and not to think of it now, when I practically came down to +show Mr. Gwyn the place--well, I’m surprised at myself!” + +Dick listened with growing impatience to this preliminary. + +“Where do you think my brother is?” + +“Where?” said Miss Wenner triumphantly. “Why, under the Abbey--that’s +where. I’ll show you.” + +They walked side by side across the meadow, and as they went Miss +Wenner related the startling story of her adventures after treasure. + +“Of course, I always knew that it didn’t belong to me, even if I found +it,” she said virtuously; “but Mr. Gilder was so very pressing that I +couldn’t very well refuse him, especially after what he’d written in +vanishing ink, though I’ve got the ink back again, as he’ll find out +one of these days.” + +Leslie listened, scarcely crediting her ears. Yet, unless Mary Wenner +had an imagination of a particularly inventive nature, it was hardly +likely that she could have made the story up. + +Dick examined the great corner-stone of the tower. He stood by, +watching curiously, whilst, with a pair of scissors which she took +from her bag, the girl pressed back the catch and sent the +corner-stone turning noisily on its invisible hinge. + +The opening was between twelve and fifteen inches wide. A stout man +could never have entered by that way, as Dick pointed out. + +“You had better stay here; I’ll go down,” he said. + +“You’ll want a light,” warned Mary. + +There was a lamp in his pocket. He had spent the morning peering into +impossible dark places. In a second he had disappeared down the +moss-grown stairs, and Leslie waited with palpitating heart for his +reappearance. Presently they heard his voice. + +“Come down.” + +“Not me,” said Mary hastily. “I’ve been there once, thank you!” + +And Leslie went alone guided by the light he showed from step to step. + +Now she was standing with him in the vaulted room. He tried first one +and then the other of the two doors leading from the antechamber, but +neither yielded to his touch. It was pitch dark save for the +fan-shaped ray of the lamp. He swept the light along wall and floor, +and presently she saw the focus halt upon a broken flagstone. + +“What is it?” she asked. + +“Nothing,” he said quickly. He had moved the light to the narrow +entrance of the room. “Up you go; there is nothing here but mice and +memories. I have always known there were underground vaults in the +Abbey. In fact, I think there was a report on them by one of my recent +forbears.” + +Although he was immediately behind her, his voice seemed to come from +a distance. She was walking, and he gave her no help with his lamp, so +that she had to feel her way up. Turning her head, she saw that he was +ascending the stairs backward, keeping the light covering the stairs +below. + +“Hurry,” he said tersely, and she stumbled up the remaining steps and +emerged into the blessed daylight. + +It was some time before he joined them, and when he came out she saw +that he was white to the lips. + +“What did you see, Dick?” she asked. + +He shook his head. + +“Nothing,” he said, and slammed the stone door tight. + +Of the little party, only Miss Wenner was unaffected by the atmosphere +which Dick Alford brought from that vaulted room. + +“… so far as Mr. Gilder said--and I don’t trust the man entirely, as +you can well understand, Leslie--there were only pieces of music in +lead cylinders--that was the word, ‘cylinders.’ To me they looked +rather more like rolls. And this Black Abbot must have cleared them +out whilst we had gone. Mr. Gilder _was_ disappointed. In fact, he was +quite rude to me over the telephone. I do think a gentleman should +keep his temper in all circumstances, don’t you, dear?” + +Leslie agreed mechanically. + +What had Dick seen? What object was it that showed for a second in the +light of his lamp? + +Near to the house he made an excuse to them. He had to go back to Red +Farm to finish his interview with the obstinate Mr. Leonard; but he +did not take his car. He said he would take the short cut, and Leslie +thought it was not the moment to question him. She watched him until +he disappeared in the fold of the ground. He was heading for the +Abbey. The other girl had gone in to finish her lunch, and Leslie +hesitated. The thought of his going back to that dark room again +filled her with blind panic. She wanted to call out to him and bring +him back, but he was out of hearing now, and she obeyed an impulse and +went after him. + +He was not in sight until she climbed the second of the gentle slopes. +Here she stopped; he might resent being overlooked, and she lay down +on the grass, watching him. She saw him come to the square tower, +pause at the corner, and disappear apparently into space. From such a +distance, the effect of his entry was eerie. The entrance was so small +that he seemed to melt into the solid stonework. Ten minutes passed, a +quarter of an hour, and then a long, interminable wait; she heard the +village clock strike two. A lark in the blue was singing his +passionate song; over by Red Farm a donkey was braying--a ludicrous +accompaniment to what might be stark tragedy. + +She was on the point of rising and running across to the ruins, to +follow him into the depths, when he appeared again. He came slowly +forth, turned and closed the stone door and leaned against it, his +head on his arm, a picture of tragic despair. + +She stopped and sank down on her knees, the better to escape +observation, and presently he walked slowly away, and it was the gait +of a broken man. + + + + + XLVII + +Hurrying back the way she had come, she joined Mary in the study. +Puttler she had not seen since the early morning, when he cycled to +Willow House to bring the notice he had found. + +“My dear,” said Mary, “I’m not so sure I shall stay here to-night. +This place is full of shocks! I’d like to see your brother very much +indeed, but you can tell him all about the room under the Abbey, can’t +you? That’s where the gold is--you mark my words!” + +“The gold?” Leslie for a moment did not understand. “Oh, you mean the +Chelford treasure?” + +The horrible thing! It was behind all this misery; behind the killing +of Thomas and the disappearance of Harry. She said as much, and Miss +Wenner, not pausing in her typewriting, calmly expressed the view that +it was very likely. + +Shock followed shock indeed! At half-past four Leslie’s maid brought a +letter which had come by special delivery. It was in Arthur’s writing; +she tore it open and read: + + + Dear Leslie: + + You are under no circumstances to marry Gilder. I refuse to allow you + to sacrifice yourself for me, now or at any time. I am going away to + France for a few months, and will return when things have blown over. + + +Ordinarily quick-witted, it was a long time before Leslie could +understand the significance of this message. When she did, she took +the letter to Dick, and he read it without comment and handed it back +to her. + +“What does that mean, Dick?” + +“It means that Arthur has taken the line of least resistance,” he +said. “To put it vulgarly, he has bolted!” + +Her heart sank, and in that moment she felt terribly alone. As if he +read her thoughts, he went on: + +“He has certainly precipitated the crisis, but I don’t see exactly how +it will affect you. There was nothing else in the letter?” + +She shook her head and opened the envelope, and then saw a slip of +paper which she had overlooked. It was an authority to sell his +business, drawn up in legal form, and had evidently been added as an +afterthought. + +“If there are no further defalcations that ought to be worth +something,” said Dick. “I’ll see what I can do.” + +But on this point she was firm. + +“I think you’ve enough trouble without mine,” she said quietly. “Did +you find anything in the ruins?” + +He started. + +“Why--no,” he said, a little unconvincingly. “Did you see me go back?” + +“I’m afraid I spied on you,” she said, with a pathetic little smile. +“Dick, I’m so worried about you; I wish you wouldn’t go into these +places alone.” + +“There was nothing to fear,” he said. “I thought I saw something on +the floor which gave me a clue to Harry’s fate, but it was +nothing--nothing.” + +He changed the subject abruptly. She had a feeling that he was not +telling her all that he had seen. + +Mary and she had dinner alone, and Mr. Glover, the butler, free from +the restraining presence of Dick Alford, was inclined to be talkative. + +“There’s no doubt Mr. Alford looks after the policemen. I have had to +get a food basket ready--thermos flask and everything the heart can +desire. Personally, miss, I don’t believe in pampering the police. +They’re only dissatisfied when they go back to their own homes. He +won’t have anybody take the basket down to them either. ‘No,’ he said, +‘I’ll take it myself. You have it ready at nine o’clock, put it just +outside the servants’ door.’ My own opinion is that they’d be much +more pleased with bread and cheese and a bottle of beer. What’s the +good of making chicken sandwiches for policemen? And having a bottle +of the best wine up from the cellar! It’s a waste of good food!” + +Leslie listened, petrified. Now she understood! + +The food was not for the police--it was for Harry! Harry, held +prisoner in Chelford Abbey--by whom? + + + + + XLVIII + +The bane of life that day had been the London reporters. The Red +Lion Inn at Chelfordbury was already filled with them, and not an hour +passed that one did not make his way to the house in a vain endeavour +to interview the Second Son. One intercepted him in Elm Drive, and to +him, as to the rest, he gave the same reply. + +“You boys can’t expect me to tell you any more than I already know,” +he said, at bay. “My brother has disappeared, but I believe he is +still alive.” + +“Who do you think is responsible for these outrages, Mr. Alford?” +asked the reporter. + +Dick shook his head. + +“If I knew, it isn’t reasonable to suppose that I should be discussing +the matter with you.” + +“Is it the Black Abbot?” + +“The Black Abbot has nothing whatever to do with this crime,” said +Dick shortly. “Unless I credit you with being so foolish as to believe +in ghosts, it is unnecessary for me to tell you that there is no such +thing as a Black Abbot, and the figure that has been seen in these +grounds was somebody masquerading for his own purpose.” + +“A practical joke?” suggested the newspaper man. + +Dick shook his head. + +“I don’t think it was a practical joke; indeed, I am sure there is +something very serious behind it. But I can’t tell you any more.” + +“Mr. Alford,” said the reporter, “I’m going to ask you a very delicate +question, and I hope you won’t think it an impertinence. If your +brother is dead, then the title comes to you, does it not?” + +“Yes,” said Dick. + +“You won’t be offended if I tell you that there is a little talk in +the village of some antagonism between your brother and you. I am told +there have been frequent quarrels.” + +Dick mastered his anger with a great effort, realizing that the +reporter was not intending to be impertinent, but simply epitomizing +the gossip of the countryside. + +“My brother was very nervous and quick-tempered,” he said, “but I’ve +never had a serious quarrel with him in my life.” + +“Is it true that Lord Chelford’s fiancée, Miss Leslie Gwyn, recently +broke off her engagement with your brother?” + +“Perfectly true,” said Dick, stifling his impatience. + +“And yet she is staying at Fossaway Manor as your guest?” The keen +eyes of the reporter were watching him closely. He saw the blood mount +to his victim’s cheeks and hastened to add: “I’m merely telling you +what other people will tell you, Mr. Alford. I have a much wider +experience of the uncharity and suspicion that surround every man +associated with a crime like this. If you are annoyed with me I can +understand it, but I can assure you that I only want to help you.” + +“That I quite believe,” said Dick with a smile. “But you can +understand just how embarrassing your questions are. I will tell you +the truth and you may put it into your paper. I am satisfied there is +a very terrible danger overhanging Miss Leslie Gwyn, and it is for +that reason, and that reason alone, I have asked her to stay at the +hall, which is under police protection and where I know she will be +safe. Her brother has gone abroad, and I cannot allow her to stay at +Willow House alone.” + +“You mean she is in danger from the same person that killed Thomas the +footman, and who is responsible for the disappearance of Lord +Chelford?” + +Dick nodded, and the newspaper man made a mental note. + +“Thank you,” he said. “You will find that this little talk has cleared +the air. In cases like this, if you clear up the minor mysteries as +you go along, it makes for everybody’s comfort.” + +Dick, who had been trembling with anger through the interview, had to +agree, in the calm moments which followed, that the reporter had taken +a sane view of the matter. When he met Leslie a few minutes later, he +told her of the interview. She was in the study alone, and had just +finished writing a letter, which lay face downward on the +blotting-pad. She saw him glance at the envelope and turned it up. It +was addressed to Fabrian Gilder. + +“What have you said?” he asked. + +“I’ve told him that I’ve considered the matter, and I’ve decided that +I could not marry him--in any circumstances it would be impossible +now, so soon after Harry’s disappearance.” + +He picked up the letter and, taking out his pocket case, tore off a +stamp and affixed it. + +“I’ll see that this goes,” he said grimly. Then, seeing her tired +face: “Poor old girl, you’re having a bad time.” + +The pressure of her hand, the love and sympathy in her voice, were +almost too much for him, and he had to set his teeth or he would have +taken her in his arms, and, in that place of tragedy and horror, told +her of the love that was shaking him, and which had added a new and +fearful burden to his overstrung nerves. + +“Go to bed early,” he said, with an effort at gaiety, “and rise with +the dawn. I shall be busy till very late.” + +“The butler was telling me that you have ordered a basket of food for +the policemen.” + +Not a muscle of his face moved. + +“That is so; one or two men who are patrolling the cutting need a +little light refreshment. They cannot get to the house and we haven’t +men to relieve them.” + +She was sensible enough not to pursue the subject. + +It was only on her earnest entreaty that, as the night grew on, Mary +Wenner remained. The girl was a bundle of nerves, started at every +sound, paled and flushed with the opening of a door, and the sound of +a falling plate in the servery whilst they were at dinner had made her +scream. + +“I can’t help it, my dear; I’m naturally temperamental,” she +explained. “And this house has got me shivering. I can’t leave another +young lady without a chaperon, or I’d fly off to London before it got +dark.” + +She had been in the library that afternoon, she told Leslie, and the +sight of that familiar room with its empty chair had been almost the +last straw. + +“I had to have a good cry,” she confessed, “and I’m not ashamed of it. +Harry was one of the best--you don’t mind me calling him Harry, do +you, dear?” And, when Leslie shook her head: “I can’t say that I was +fond of him as a young girl ought to be fond of a man she loves, but +he was very nice. He had his tempers, the same as the rest of us, but +they were only his high spirits. I could never understand why he hated +Mr. Alford.” + +Leslie looked at her incredulously. + +“Hated Mr. Alford?” she repeated. “Surely you’re mistaken? They were +very good friends.” + +Mary shook her head. + +“No, they weren’t,” she said. “It all arose out of her ladyship’s +picture.” + +“The late Lady Chelford?” + +“That was the lady,” nodded Mary. “It happened three years ago. Dick +Alford suggested that the portrait should be moved to the gallery. I +think he was silly to say it, knowing how Harry adored his mother, and +when he said the picture was depressing--and that was the silliest +thing of all--Harry got right up in the air! It was dreadful, the +things he said to Mr. Alford--and before me, too! Dick Alford realized +his mistake: I could see that, and he tried to pacify Harry, but for a +fortnight they didn’t speak.” + +Leslie was silent. Slowly the inner life of Fossaway Manor was +beginning to reveal itself to her; she had seen nothing of these +cross-currents, had not suspected, even dimly, the conflicting +antagonism which must have been visible to Harry Chelford’s secretary. + +“They were very friendly sometimes. You’d think that Harry was fond of +him, and I think he was,” Mary continued; “but the quarrels used to +break out every now and then, once because Dick always stood with his +back to the picture, and never looked at it at all. He hated it, I’m +sure of that. Of course, he never took me into his confidence. We were +not what you might term good friends. I suppose it was foolish of me +to take up Harry’s quarrel, but I never liked Dick--you don’t mind me +calling him Dick?--after that.” + +She glanced nervously through the window. The sun had set, and dusk +was creeping over the great park. + +“If I get any sleep to-night I’ll be lucky,” she said. “Do you mind if +I leave my door open and keep a light burning?” + +“Why, of course not,” smiled Leslie. + +“There is a lock on the door, and I asked Glover to find me the key,” +Miss Wenner went on. “And I’ll tell you frankly, Leslie, that if he +hadn’t found it I wouldn’t have stayed, not for all the money in the +world.” + +Leslie felt that it would be indiscreet to offer encouragement to a +further discussion of this subject, for she was as reluctant to spend +the night under that roof as her new-found friend. + + + + + XLIX + +Though she waited up till nearly eleven, she did not see Dick, and, +in response to the repeated hints of the girl, they went upstairs +together. + +The Manor was lighted by a power plant which was accommodated in a +small shed midway between the house and the Ravensrill, and owed its +installation to Dick’s enterprise. + +Harry had always had candles in his room, Mary told her, but had +accepted the lighting of his library as a compromise. + +“It’s a very strange thing,” said Mary from her inner room, “but Harry +was afraid of electricity. In thunderstorms he always went down into +the cellar and stayed there until they were over. He used to have a +bed which was made every day in the summer, in case of a storm coming +on in the night, and----” + +At that moment all the lights in the room went out. + +“Have you turned the lights off?” asked Mary’s anxious voice. + +“No, I haven’t been near the switch; I expect a fuse has gone,” said +the girl. + +There were matches and candles on the dressing table, she remembered, +and, groping her way to the table, she lit the two candles. Mary was +standing in the doorway, very pale and wide-eyed. + +“What was the meaning of that?” she asked, her voice sharp with fear, +which was beginning to communicate itself to Leslie. + +She forced a smile. + +“That happens in the best regulated houses,” she said, with spurious +gaiety. “The door is locked, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.” + +And then she heard footsteps in the corridor; there was a knock at the +door that made Mary jump. + +“Are you there, Leslie?” It was Dick’s voice. “Something has gone +wrong with the lighting arrangements; we’ll put it right in a minute +or two.” + +“Are the lights out everywhere?” asked Mary, but he was gone. + +Twenty minutes passed and again Leslie heard his footsteps +approaching. + +“I’m afraid we sha’n’t be able to fix up the lights till the morning. +Have you candles? Did Glover put a flash light for you?” + +“We’ve everything we want,” said Leslie. “Don’t worry about us: we +shall be asleep in ten minutes.” + +“Not me,” murmured Miss Wenner tremulously. “I sha’n’t sleep a wink!” + +By the light of her candle she had replaced most of the garments she +had discarded when the lights went out. + +“I knew I oughtn’t to have stayed--there’s somebody coming along the +corridor!” + +“It is only Mr. Alford.” + +But her ears caught the sound of two pairs of feet, and presently +Dick’s voice spoke. + +“Do you mind if I leave one of Puttler’s men outside your door?” he +asked. “Don’t be alarmed if you hear him walking about in the night.” + +“Is anything wrong, Dick?” + +“No, no, nothing wrong; only I knew Miss Wenner was rather nervous.” + +“I am,” quavered Miss Wenner loudly. “It’s very good of you, Mr. +Alford.” + +“You had better keep your windows fastened,” said Dick. “There is a +system of ventilation in the room, so you needn’t be afraid of waking +with a headache. Good-night.” + +When he had gone, Mary Wenner looked solemnly at her companion. + +“Did you hear what he said about keeping the windows shut?” she asked +hollowly. “My Gawd!” + +“Don’t be silly, Mary.” + +Leslie was past feeling comfortable, but she had need to set an +example. + +“Come along, I’ll help you fasten the windows.” + +“‘Keep the windows fastened,’” repeated Mary Wenner. “There’s +something doing!” + +They went from one to the other of the leaded windows, closed them and +pressed down the catches. Suddenly Mary clutched the girl’s arm +fiercely. + +“There’s a man under my bed!” she gasped, staring wildly at the +drooping counterpane. + +With a fluttering heart Leslie lifted the cover, and pulled out a pair +of riding boots, the soles of which the frightened secretary had seen, +and they both laughed hysterically. + +“I wish I could bring my bed into your room.” Mary looked helplessly +at the heavy four-poster to which she had been assigned. + +“You can come and sleep with me,” said Leslie. “I’ve got a big bed.” +And this offer was most gratefully accepted. + +“Have a look under your bed first,” said Miss Wenner nervously, and +not till this ritual had been observed did she commence very slowly to +undress. + +Down below in the library, Dick was in consultation with Puttler, who +had just returned from a hasty visit to Scotland Yard. + +“The batteries were smashed, and an attempt had been made to cut the +main cable,” reported Dick. “I got to the power house just after it +happened, but I saw nobody.” + +Puttler pulled at his comic little nose and there was a look of +trouble in his brown eyes. + +“The Commissioner thinks you ought to have a dozen men down here and +make a clean-up,” he said. “I’ve brought three, and I think they all +ought to be inside the house. One we’ve got in the east wing, another +in the west, and a patrol in the hall. That will leave you and me and +the local ‘flatties’ for the grounds. Though I think we might as well +stay here--you want a battalion to patrol the estate properly. By the +way, when I was looking round early this morning I found a great mound +of earth in the northeast corner of the estate, near the river. One of +your gamekeepers told me it was called Chelford Greed. What is the +idea?” + +Dick was not in an archæological mood, but he explained. + +“One of my ancestors--I don’t know which one--planned and carried out +a big steal. You probably know that the charter by which we received +these lands from King Henry confines the northern boundary of the +estate to the course of the Ravensrill, and the ingenious Chelford of +the times had the idea of changing the course of the Ravensrill so +that the estate would embrace another thousand acres. The Chelford +Greed was the dam he built. The natural course of the Ravensrill runs +through the Long Meadow. It was one of those clever little pieces of +robbery that have made us landed proprietors what we are! As I say, I +don’t know which of the Chelfords planned this piece of larceny, +because there is no written record, and the legend has come down from +mouth to mouth, so to speak.” + +He looked up at the big portrait above the fireplace and shook his +head. + +“Lady,” he said softly, “you’ve given me a lot of trouble!” + +Puttler was interested. + +“As how?” he asked. + +“I’ll tell you one of these days,” said Dick. “I wonder if those girls +are asleep?” + +He stole quietly up the stairs. The man on duty in the corridor +flashed a lamp upon him as he approached. + +“No sound,” he whispered, and Dick crept downstairs again. + +It was arranged that he and Puttler should snatch a few hours’ sleep +in turn, the other patrolling round and round the block of buildings. +At two o’clock in the morning he was aroused from a deep slumber to +feel Puttler shaking gently at his shoulder. + +“Nothing has happened,” said the detective, eyeing with a friendly +look the sofa from which Dick struggled. “I’ve warmed up some grub for +you.” + +A spirit stove was burning on the desk and the kettle above was +steaming. Dick poured the black coffee into a glass and scalded +himself to wakefulness. + +“One of the local men thought he saw somebody moving and challenged,” +reported Puttler, settling himself down with a luxurious sigh. “But it +was probably only a bush. These birds are jumpy--they see a Black +Abbot in every shadow!” + +Dick sipped at the boiling fluid and broke a biscuit with his +disengaged hand. + +“Thank God, this can’t go on much longer!” he said. “By the way, did +you bring those papers from London?” + +“I gave them to you in the library: they were in the blue envelope.” + +Dick put down the glass. + +“I’d better keep them in my safe,” he said. “I don’t want the servants +to see them.” + +He crossed the hall, unlocked the door of the library and went in, +mechanically switching on the light, and only then remembering that +for the time being Fossaway Manor was denied the service of the little +power house. He went back to the study and got his lamp and picked his +way across the room to the desk. The envelope was where he had put it, +and he slipped this into his pocket. As he did so, he was aware that a +cold wind was blowing. He sent his light along the windows. That at +the end was open; one of the curtains, which had been drawn across lay +in a heap on the ground. + +He went to the door and called Puttler softly and the detective joined +him. + +“Somebody has been here,” he said, and pointed to the curtain and the +twisted pole that had supported it. + +It was easy to see how the intruder had made his way into the library. +Two of the panes near the iron handle which fastened one leaf of the +window had been broken, and evidently the midnight visitor, in +entering, must have fallen and, catching hold of the curtain to save +himself, brought it to the ground, breaking away the pole which was +hanging drunkenly. + +“I passed here ten minutes ago, and the window was shut then,” said +Puttler. + +“He may have been inside at the moment,” replied Dick thoughtfully. “I +wonder what has been taken?” + +He examined the desk. Evidently the intruder had not opened any of the +drawers, though, if he had done so, his labours would have been in +vain, since Dick had cleared every document out of the room early in +the day. As they circulated the room, Puttler stumbled over something. + +“Where did this come from?” he asked. + +It was a light ladder, and Dick recognized it as one of two that were +part of the library furniture, and was employed to reach books from +the top shelf of the lower tier. + +“When I saw this last it was standing at the end of the room,” he +said. + +He flashed his lamp up on to the shelves, looking for a gap in the +long line of books. So doing, his lamp swept across that space +intervening between the shelves which was covered by the portrait of +the late Lady Chelford. He could see the big gold frame, caught a +glimpse of one white hand hanging gracefully, and then something +brought his lamp back. He heard the churchwarden detective swear +softly. Himself, he was speechless. The light of his lamp focussed on +the place where the woman’s face had been, and where now was a black +emptiness. + +The face and shoulders of the picture had been cut from the frame, and +the ragged strands of canvas told him that it had been cut by an +unskilful hand. + + + + + L + +Neither man spoke until they were back in the little study, and then +Puttler looked gloomily at his companion. + +“What do you make of that?” + +“Heaven knows!” groaned Dick. + +The study door was closed, and he had pulled across a dark curtain +which had been hung that day for the purpose. + +“I suppose I’d better get out, though I don’t suppose I shall find +anything.” + +“Wait until I’ve had the remainder of your coffee and I’ll come with +you,” said Puttler. “No, Mr. Alford, I never felt less like sleep. We +shall have daylight in a couple of hours. Wait.” + +He turned out the oil lamp which had been requisitioned from the +kitchen, blew down the glass chimney, and the room was in darkness. + +“Now you can pull open those curtains and go out,” he said, “if that +is your way.” + +Dick moved the curtains slightly and looked out. The world lay +peaceful, silent, in the pallid light of the moon, and as he opened +the door, the sweet scent of the earth and the cold morn greeted him +fragrantly. + +His foot was raised to step across the threshold when Puttler’s big +hand closed round his arm. + +“Wait,” he whispered again. + +Dick stood motionless. + +“I see nothing,” he said in the same tone. + +Still Puttler held him, his head bent, listening. + +“All right,” he said, released his grip, and stepped out on to the +little terrace before the Second Son. + +He gave a swift glance left and right. + +“What was it?” asked Dick, in surprise. + +“Somebody breathing,” was Puttler’s astonishing reply. “You won’t +believe that I could hear a man breathing a dozen yards away, but I +can. It’s one of my many animal qualities.” + +He took a little run, cleared the gravel path in a bound, and went +noiselessly along the grass to the left. Presently Dick saw him +returning at a jog-trot. The detective went past and disappeared round +the wing of the block. In a few minutes he returned. + +“Hearing and scent are my two qualities. Can you smell anything?” + +Dick sniffed the morning air. + +“No,” he confessed. + +“Come along with me.” + +This time he walked softly across the path, explaining that he was +afraid of waking the girls who slept almost immediately above them. + +They went to the end of the wing, and then the sergeant halted. + +“Now do you smell anything?” he asked. + +Dick sniffed again. There was a sweet odour in the air, the scent of +some exotic flower that seemed familiar to him. + +“Does anybody in this house smoke scented cigarettes?” asked the +detective, and Dick went suddenly cold. + +“Harry!” + +“Your brother, eh?” Puttler’s deep-set eyes surveyed him in the half +light. “That doesn’t necessarily mean that he is smoking them. Where +were they kept?” + +“In the library as a rule.” + +Puttler began searching the grounds with the aid of his lamp. He had +not gone far before he saw something and picked it up. It was a +half-smoked cigarette with a rose-leaf tip. + +“Humph!” muttered Puttler, and continued his search--a search which +yielded no further evidence. + +Retracing their steps, they passed the study door, and Puttler, who +was walking a little ahead, stumbled over something and put his light +to the ground. + +“You keep rather a lot of ladders about here, Mr. Alford,” he said, in +a low voice. “A library ladder outside? What’s the great idea?” + +The ladder was lying parallel with the gravel drive, and Puttler +examined it rung by rung. + +“That wasn’t here last night, I’ll take my oath,” he said. + +“No,” said Dick, puzzled; “it usually hangs on two pegs near the +garage.” + +He lifted it up. It was a long, light, triangular ladder tapering to a +point at the top, and used by the staff for outside window cleaning. + +“You had better have it chained up,” was all Puttler said after he had +finished his inspection. “The man who brought this here was the man +who cut off your light supply and, incidentally----” + +Far away in the grounds came the faint sound of a man’s voice, +challenging in military fashion. + +“Halt! Who goes there?” + +“That’s Renwick, a local man,” said Puttler immediately. + +They ran toward the sound of the voice, and presently saw the flicker +of his lantern; and it was a badly scared man who challenged them a +few minutes later. He had seen nothing, he said, but he had heard +voices. + +“One of them was laughing. I thought at first it was you, Sergeant, +but when I heard it again it was so wild that I got a little nervous.” + +“Did anybody answer your challenge?” + +“No, but the voices stopped. I couldn’t hear the woman’s voice----” + +“The woman’s voice?” said Dick quickly. “Was it a woman? Surely you’re +mistaken?” + +“I could swear to it,” said the watcher. “It was the woman’s voice I +heard first, and the man who laughed. I think the voices must have +stopped as soon as I put my lamp on.” + +“In what direction?” + +The policeman pointed across Long Meadow, the shallow, valley-like +depression which ran parallel with the rising ground on which the +Abbey stood. To the left there were a number of cottages, occupied in +the main by people working on the estate, two gamekeepers, a carter +and a groom. It was from one of these cottages that the Black Abbot +had been seen and reported by a terrified gamekeeper. + +“They sounded as if they were walking away from you over the Mound to +the river--or to the ruins?” suggested Puttler. + +“Well,” confessed the man, “they might have been going that way: I +can’t be sure.” + +“That certainly beats the band,” said the sergeant, as they were +moving in the direction the man had indicated. + +“He must have been mistaken,” said Dick with emphasis. “They were +walking away from him----” + +“They,” repeated Puttler significantly. “I don’t think he was wrong at +all.” + +“There is another possible solution,” said Dick. “Sometimes the people +at Chelfordbury avail themselves of a short cut across the park to a +neighbouring village.” + +“At three o’clock in the morning?” + +“There may have been a dance,” suggested Dick lamely. + +“A short cut through a park that’s known to be haunted and where a +murder was committed two nights ago?” + +There was no answer to this. + +They reached the bank and followed along the top till they were +parallel with the Abbey, but there was no sign of man or woman, and +they turned back. In spite of his protestations of wakefulness, +Sergeant Puttler did not resist the suggestion that he should take his +sleep. Dick was left alone to his vigil. + +By the time daylight came he was a very weary man. Twice in the night +he had visited the two men posted in the corridors above, found them +awake, but in each case with nothing to report. + +“Thank goodness, at any rate, somebody’s had some sleep!” he muttered, +as he passed under the girl’s window and glanced up. + +The morning wind which stirred the trees and filled the world with the +pleasant music of rustling leaves moved also the casement window of +the room which he had assigned to Mary Wenner. The window swayed to +and fro slowly, and he inwardly condemned the girl for not carrying +out his instructions. + +By six o’clock the first of the servants was stirring; smoke was +crawling lazily from one of the big twisted chimneys. He was sitting +in envious contemplation of Sergeant Puttler when the door of the +study burst violently open and Mary Wenner came in. She was in her +dressing gown; her untidy hair floated over her face. + +“Mr. Alford,” she asked agitatedly, “have you seen Leslie?” + +He was on his feet in an instant and the movement woke the sleeping +detective. + +“No; she’s with you, isn’t she?” + +“We went to bed together,” said the girl, in a tremulous tone, “but +when I woke up just now she was not in the room. I waited awhile, +thinking she was taking her bath, and then I went outside and asked +the man you put there. He said she hadn’t come out of the room!” + +Puttler, listening, dragged himself erect. + +“The ladder!” he said simply, and Dick reeled under the blow. The +Black Terror of Fossaway Manor had in his grip the woman for whom he +would have given his soul and counted it no heavy price. + +Running out on to the lawn, Puttler searched beneath the window. Yes, +there were the marks of the ladder in the mould of a garden bed, and +on the ladder itself he found confirmatory proof. Lifting it against +the wall, he scrambled up, and came breast-high to the window-sill on +its top-most rung. Drawing himself up, he sprang into the room and +looked round for some clue. By this time Mary Wenner, followed by +Dick, had come through the door. + +“Her dressing gown isn’t gone!” whimpered Mary, pointing to the hook +where it had hung. “But her shoes are. She must have dressed--and I +didn’t hear.” + +The tired man at the door had heard no sound in the night. A thick +carpet covered the floor. Mary said that, when she woke, the door +which communicated between the two rooms was closed. + +She had heard no sound at all, and claimed that she was a light +sleeper, which, in fact, she was not. When she had gone to sleep the +candle was burning. Examining this, Dick saw that it would not have +been alight for more than an hour. There were two burnt matches in the +tray, which meant that the candle had been extinguished once and lit +again. + +“I wonder she didn’t wake me; I’m usually a light sleeper.…” + +Dick left the girl explaining to the watcher who had been on guard +outside the door. + +“It was her voice, of course, that the patrol man heard in the dark. I +blame myself that I didn’t jump at that idea.” + +“I’d like to keep all the blame!” said Dick bitterly. “Oh, God! it +doesn’t bear thinking about!” + +He went away on a solitary search; none saw him slip through the back +of the house, and he moved under cover of the river bank. When he +returned, after an absence of two hours, Puttler told him that there +was a message from the Home Office awaiting him. That institution had +rung up twice. Dick got through after a wait, and learned that he was +talking to an important under-secretary. + +“Could you run up to London for an hour?” + +“Is it necessary?” asked Dick, and he explained with all rapidity the +happenings of the night. + +“I’m afraid you had better see us as soon as you possibly can. In view +of all the circumstances you cannot come too soon.” + +With a curse Dick hung up the ’phone, and this time he took Harry’s +big two-seater, a car that his brother had only used a dozen times, +but the use of which he had steadfastly refused to anybody else. + +Just as he was leaving he recalled a resolution he had made in the +night; he ran upstairs into his room, and, bolting the door, opened a +locked drawer of his dressing chest and took out something which he +put carefully in his bag. That must be removed from Fossaway Manor as +soon as possible, he thought. He put the bag in the boot of the car +and sent the machine flying down the drive. + +Midway between Horsham and Dorking, a motorist, coming from the +opposite direction by another route, shot at a fast pace from a forked +road right across his path. Dick jammed on the brakes and the big car +skidded halfway round, struck the concrete curb with a thud, but no +damage was done, and he went on, with a glare at the goggled driver of +the machine at fault that was murderous. + +He did not hear the cover of the dickey snap open, nor did he see the +brown bag leap up and roll over on to the sidewalk. But the man in the +other car saw all this through his big goggles, and, restarting his +machine, brought it to the curb. + +And there and then, Fabrian Gilder discovered the secret of the Black +Abbot! + + + + + LI + +At nine o’clock that morning Mr. Fabrian Gilder had risen intending +to make a hurried visit to his country cottage. The newspapers had +been full of the Chelford tragedy, but no mention had been made of the +fact that Thomas had been Mr. Gilder’s guest. Such a happening, he +realized, being an intelligent man, must necessarily upset all +arrangements and plans that the girl had made. + +There was a lot about Fabrian Gilder that was admirable. To his +servants he was a kind master; to all who knew him superficially, an +excellent and even a generous friend. He was in truth no worse than +the average man in point of desires, a little better in his fairness +of dealing. Arthur Gwyn had been legitimate prey, but he had, he +thought, treated him with scrupulous fairness. He had succeeded, by +the exploitation of the lawyer’s weakness, in amassing a very +considerable fortune; but then, the City of London, and, for the +matter of that, the City of New York, was filled with rich men who had +founded their houses upon the cupidity or folly of men who were now +almost penniless. + +He glanced at the morning papers. There was nothing new reported from +Chelford, except the little interview that one reporter had had with +Dick, and that paragraph was, in many ways, very comforting to Gilder, +for it explained why the girl--and then his eye caught sight of a +line. + + + Mr. Alford said he had asked Miss Leslie Gwyn to stay at Fossaway + Manor whilst her brother was abroad.… + + +Abroad? He frowned. If Arthur Gwyn had gone abroad he must have left +very suddenly. He had seen him only a day or two before. But perhaps +that was one of Dick Alford’s lies to save the girl’s face. Still, it +was disquieting. + +He was pondering this matter when the maid brought him his morning +letters, and the first he saw was one in a well-known hand. It was +from Leslie. He tore it open with trembling fingers, took out the half +sheet of paper and read the few lines. He read it not once but many +times. So that was that! She had changed her mind. + +It did not occur to him that she had not made any promise but he was +so sure of her, so satisfied in his mind that she would agree to his +proposal, that he felt he had been tricked. + +When the shock had worn off, his anger and resentment grew. Very well: +if she could not keep her promise, he at least would keep his. He +understood now, he thought. Arthur had bolted, and there was no +necessity for the girl to make her sacrifice. He had been fooled, +tricked. He pushed the chair back from the table, leaving his +breakfast untouched, and, going into his library, turned the handle of +the combination and pulled open the door of the safe with a savage +jerk. There was the letter, all ready to post, and at the sight of it +his heart grew hard and sour. + +He took out the letter, made to tear it into fragments, and then +remembered that inside was a blank check. He pulled out the sheet of +notepaper and felt for the little pink slip that in his magnificence +he had signed with a complacent flourish. It was not there! + +Gilder peered into the envelope with a frown. Gone! He searched the +safe: it might have fallen out, though how, he could not imagine; but +there was no sign of the check. He unlocked his drawer and took out +his check-book. There was the counterfoil, and written across it, “For +Leslie----.” He had intended to show her that counterfoil one of these +days, when she felt more kindly toward him. + +With his head in his hands he tried to remember when he had last seen +the check, and then he recalled that it was on the morning Arthur Gwyn +had called to see him. At that thought he went white. Surely he had +closed the safe? Again he struggled to remember, minute by minute, +that fateful morning. He had been looking at the letter, he had put it +away, he had closed the door, and then--the telephone bell had rung +and he had forgotten to fasten the safe! + +He pulled the ’phone toward him now and called furiously for a number. +It was twenty past nine; most of the staff of the bank would be there. +When the call was answered: + +“I am Mr. Gilder,” he said quickly. “Is the manager there?… No? Then +the sub-manager will do. It is very urgent.” + +He waited whilst the clerk went to investigate. Presently he heard the +voice of a man he knew--the manager himself. + +“I just came in at this moment. Is anything wrong?” + +“Fletcher, do you remember my telling you that I should be sending +down a check for fifty thousand pounds and asking you to honour it?” + +“Yes; I honoured it.” + +For a second Gilder was speechless. + +“You honoured it? Who presented the check?” + +“Arthur Gwyn--it was made out in his favour. I notified you last +night; didn’t you get my letter?” + +“I haven’t opened all my post yet,” said Gilder steadily. “Thank you.” + +He hung up the receiver, breathing heavily. For now he remembered +clearly every event of the morning: the coming of Arthur Gwyn, and his +seemingly absurd proposal, that Gilder should write a note expressing +his willingness to lend the money. That was the trick of it! Not only +had Arthur got the fifty thousand, but with that letter he had a +complete answer to any charge of fraud. + +He sat with clasped hands, every vein on his forehead swollen, and +murder in his heart. Tricked! And she should know. She had been a +party to the fraud--unwittingly, perhaps, but nevertheless a party. +She must have told him of this money.… + +Whatever else he was, Fabrian Gilder had the gift of clear thinking. +Five minutes’ riotous fury, and he was his cold self again. Of course +she couldn’t have helped in the fraud. It was the accident of leaving +the safe unlocked, and Arthur Gwyn’s known inquisitiveness--he could +never resist reading even Gilder’s private letters; Arthur had no +sense of other people’s privacy. + +What could he do now? He thought the matter out. He must tell the +girl, and perhaps she would regard herself as being under an +obligation to him. If she had any sense of honour she must fulfil her +promise, whatever she had written in her letter that morning. + +He telephoned for his car to be brought round from the garage, and +came back to his breakfast table and made an attempt to eat. + +He would try Leslie first, telling her nothing about the letter he had +given to her brother, and threaten him with a warrant for fraud. +Perhaps this strengthened rather than weakened his position. He grew +cheerful as the thought took shape. + +He passed slowly out of London, for all the streets in the metropolis +seemed to be “up,” and at last struck the open country, avoiding the +main roads and taking a more circuitous route which would bring him to +the main Sussex road between Dorking and Horsham. With a clear road +before him, he sent his car at full speed. He was not well acquainted +with the road, but he knew that he joined the old Roman “street” at a +gentle angle, and he did not slow down as he approached the principal +thoroughfare. + +Left of him, on the London side, the road was clear; to the right, the +view was a little obstructed. He sounded his klaxon and came out on to +the main thoroughfare at thirty miles an hour. + +He saw the car just in time, jammed on his brakes, and threw the +machine into reverse. The big car ahead of him skidded round; he +caught one malevolent gleam from Dick Alford’s eyes, and then he saw +the bag and, driving to the side of the road, picked it up. His first +inclination was to leave it; he had no particular desire to help the +Second Son; but there are certain innate decencies to be observed by +motorists, even though they loathe each other, and he picked the +little grip from the sidewalk and threw it into the back of his car. + +As he did so, it opened, and, turning to fasten it, he saw something +that made him change his mind. Getting out of the car, he lifted the +bag to the sidewalk, opened it wide and pulled out--the sombre habit +and cowl of the Black Abbot! + + + + + LII + +So Dick Alford was the Black Abbot! It was unbelievable; he could +hardly credit the importance of his find. Here, then, was the greatest +lever of all. Beside this, the threat of a charge against Leslie +Gwyn’s brother faded to unimportance. He snapped the lock, put the bag +carefully back in the car, and, restarting his engine, moved at a +slower pace toward Chelfordbury. + +He stopped in the village, where he was recognized, and heard at first +hand from the innkeeper the story of the strange happenings at the +“big house.” + +“They do say that something’s happened to the young lady from Willow +House.” + +“What!” Gilder almost shouted the word. “You don’t mean Miss Gwyn?” + +“Yes, Miss Gwyn,” nodded the landlord. “I haven’t got the rights of it +yet, it’s only a rumour down here, but, Lord bless your heart, Mr. +Gilder, there’s never been so many rumours in this village since I +came to live here forty-eight years ago. Some say that his lordship’s +been murdered”--he lowered his voice and looked round--“by his +brother! Mr. Alford is a very hard man, though the people who work for +him have got nothing to say against him, but that doesn’t seem +possible to me.” + +Gilder’s mind was in a whirl. He did not want to know anything about +Dick Alford or his reputation. + +“Who told you this story about Miss Gwyn?” he asked, and the landlord, +looking round the group that had formed outside the Red Lion, pointed +to a man. + +“He’s a carter up at the big house,” he said. + +“Fetch him here,” said Gilder. + +When the carter arrived: + +“What is this story about Miss Gwyn?” Gilder asked. + +The man looked a little sheepish to find himself the centre of +interest. + +“I don’t know nowt about it,” he said. “It’s only what I heerd that +monkey-faced gentleman saying to Mr. Richard. He says, ‘I don’t think +any harm’s come to her.’ And one of the maids says that that young +lady who used to be his lordship’s secretary----” + +“Miss Wenner? Is she there?” asked Gilder quickly. + +“Yes, she come up last night.” + +“What about her?” asked Gilder. + +“They say she’s been crying her eyes out all the morning. That’s all I +know about it. They do say something bad happened to the young lady +early this morning, and the way Mr. Richard has been running about and +him looking as ill as death----” + +“I hope something’s going to be done about this Black Abbot,” +interjected the innkeeper. “My womenfolk are so frightened they want +to sit up half the night.” + +Gilder looked at him with a queer expression. + +“You needn’t be afraid of the Black Abbot,” he said. “I am going to +lay that ghost to-day.” + +“You, Mr. Gilder?” said the man, in surprise. + +But it was not the occasion for confidences, and Gilder, getting back +into his car, turned it about and went up the road till he came to the +lodge gates. Here a policeman on duty would have barred his progress, +but fortunately he was a local man who knew the lawyer. + +“Mr. Alford’s away, sir. Do you want to see Sergeant Puttler?” + +“Is that the man who has been staying at the hall? What is he--a +policeman?” + +“A Scotland Yard man, sir,” said the Sussex policeman, with a certain +pride. “Though I don’t know they’re much better than our own +detectives. You’ll tell him you saw me, will you, and I asked you not +to go to the house unless you had business?” + +Evidently these were the policeman’s instructions; Gilder promised +faithfully to supply this exoneration, and continued up the drive. +There was nobody to meet him when he pulled up before the old carved +porch, but he had hardly alighted when a long-armed, queer-faced man +came from nowhere. + +“Good-morning,” said the visitor. + +“Good-morning, Mr. Gilder,” said Puttler. “Mr. Alford has had to go to +town.” + +“I want to see Miss Gwyn,” said Gilder, watching the man closely. + +If he had expected an experienced detective-sergeant to betray +himself, he was to be disappointed. Puttler did no more than fix him +with his melancholy eyes. + +“Want to see Miss Gwyn, do you? I’m afraid she’s not at home either.” + +“Then perhaps I could see Miss Wenner?” + +The sergeant scratched his chin. + +“She’s not very well,” he said; “in fact, she’s lying down, and the +doctor says she’s not to be disturbed.” + +“Is there anything wrong with her?” + +“No, there’s nothing very much wrong with her. At the same time,” said +Puttler juridically, “there’s nothing very much right with her! It has +rather got on her nerves sleeping in this place, and I can’t very well +blame her.” + +“Do you know where Miss Gwyn has gone?” + +Puttler shook his head. + +“No,” he said truthfully, “I can’t tell you that; she didn’t tell me.” + +“Perhaps you will answer this question,” said the exasperated man: +“Has anything happened to her?” + +“So far as I know,” said the imperturbable officer, “nothing whatever +has happened to her. Are you a friend of hers?” + +“I am her fiancé,” said Gilder, on the spur of the moment. + +Here he had the satisfaction of seeing that the sergeant was startled. + +“Oh, yes, of course, you’re the gentleman she isn’t going to marry.” + +It was said in all innocence, without any trace of impertinence, but +Mr. Gilder went red and white. + +“You see, Mr. Gilder,” the sergeant went on, “I’ve heard quite a lot +about--affairs in this neighbourhood; in fact, I’m an authority upon +all the gossip and scandal for the past twenty years. And I’m very +glad you came, because there are one or two questions I wanted to ask +you. For example, I wanted to know how it came about that you placed +your cottage at the disposal of an ex-convict. Thomas Luck--so +called.” + +But here Gilder was ready with his answer. + +“I had no idea the man was an ex-convict,” he said. “He told me he had +been discharged from the Manor, and as I wanted a caretaker, and he +offered to come for a very small sum, I employed him. I was terribly +surprised and shocked to hear of his death, but even more shocked to +learn of his character.” + +Puttler was politely interested. But if he thought that he was going +to get rid of Gilder so easily, it was because he did not know the +man’s pertinacity. + +“I think I must see Miss Wenner before I go,” he said. “At any rate, +I’d be glad if you’d send up my name----” + +Puttler shook his head. + +“It can’t be done, Mr. Gilder,” he said almost cheerfully. “Just now +I’m a combination of the Earl of Chelford and the family doctor. In +other words, I’m in charge during Mr. Alford’s absence. If you care to +wait until he comes back, the drawing-room is at your disposal, but +you understand, Mr. Gilder, that you are not in any circumstances to +question the servants. I am a great admirer of amateur detectives in +my leisure moments, but this is one of my busy days and I can’t afford +to have any interference in this case, however well meant it may be.” + +Gilder had to accept this invitation. He was determined not to leave +the house until he had learned the truth about Leslie Gwyn. The +detective conducted him to the drawing-room, the long windows of which +were open. + +“I’ll ask you not to leave here until Mr. Alford arrives,” he said. +“If you require anything, perhaps you will ring?” And, seeing the +light in Gilder’s eyes, he added: “One of my men, who is a first-class +footman, will attend to you.” + +He had not long to wait, as it happened. Dick, who had torn up to +town, breaking every speed rule, and so intent upon the object of his +visit that he had forgotten even that he had put the bag in the boot, +was lucky enough to get through with his interview in a quarter of an +hour. It was a very important interview: one on which his own future +very largely depended; and there were too many things to think about +for him to give a thought to the bag and its contents. His car, white +with dust, sped up the drive and came to a halt in the wide space +before the porch. He identified the other car and recognized it as the +machine that had nearly brought about a nasty accident that morning. + +“Gilder, is it?” he said, as he got down. + +“Gilder it is, and full of interrogation marks. You saw the +secretary?” + +Dick nodded. + +“Yes. He was very kind, but rather vague. He has given me twelve hours +to find Harry, dead or alive.” + +“Did you tell him about Miss Gwyn?” + +“He wasn’t even interested,” said Dick, with a hard laugh. “Harry, the +estate, the title--everything except Leslie! That was the burden of +his conversation. In twelve hours I must find him--and believe me, +Puttler, in twelve hours I will!” + +He went into the drawing-room and greeted Gilder curtly. + +“You wanted to see me?” + +“I wanted to know what has happened to Leslie Gwyn,” said Gilder. + +“I wish to God I knew!” said Dick. + +The man stared at him. + +“Nothing bad has happened?” he asked in a low voice, and Dick forgave +him everything for the sincerity of his concern. + +“I’m afraid it is something very unpleasant,” he said, and told the +story. + +As he did so, he saw the man’s face change and a sceptical smile +curved his lips. + +“I’ve got something to say to you, and I’d like to say it before a +witness, Alford.” + +“To me?” said Dick, in surprise, and called over his shoulder to +Puttler, who was passing the door. “Mr. Gilder has something he wants +to say--I presume it’s something of an unpleasant character,” he said. +“Perhaps you had better listen to this, Puttler.” + +“Alford has just told me that Miss Gwyn has disappeared, and the +inference is, of course, that the Black Abbot has spirited her away. I +think that is extremely likely, because the Black Abbot has every +interest in holding fast to that young lady.” + +“Sensation,” murmured the detective, but Gilder did not notice the +interruption. + +“For some time past there’s been a queer spook haunting this +countryside, an object of terror to Lord Chelford, designed, if +anything, to cover the series of outrages which have recently been +committed. Chelford’s a weakling--you know that, Alford--but weaklings +have children, and once a child is born to Harry Chelford your hope of +succession went like that!” He snapped his fingers. + +“What are you suggesting?” asked Dick steadily. + +“I’m suggesting that you are the Black Abbot!” + +Not by so much as a flicker of his eyelid did Dick betray himself. + +“I not only suggest it, but I’m prepared to prove it. On your way to +town this morning you nearly collided with my car. As you skidded, +your bag fell out of the dickey. I picked it up, threw it in the car +and found it was open. In that bag was the robe of the Black Abbot, +well worn, often used! Do you deny that?” + +“You’ve got to bring proof of this.” It was Puttler who spoke. + +“Proof!” cried the other triumphantly. “I’ll give you proof!” + +He walked rapidly through the hall to where his car was, the two men +following him. He had left the bag under a rug at the back of the car. + +“There is the bag,” he said, as he pulled the rug from its place. “And +here”--he snapped open the bag---- + +It was empty! + +“And here?” said Puttler encouragingly. + +“It was there a few minutes ago: I saw it before I came into the +grounds. Somebody has taken it. You!” he accused Dick. + +Dick smiled. + +“Sergeant Puttler will testify that I came straight from my car into +your august presence,” he said sarcastically. + +“Why don’t you accuse me?” asked Puttler. “I was out here all the +time.” + +The baffled man looked from one to the other. It was impossible to +believe that these two were in league. He knew Puttler by name to be +one of the best officers Scotland Yard had ever had. He shrugged his +shoulders and dropped his hands to his sides. + +“You’ve beaten me, Alford,” he said, “for the time being. But I’m +satisfied the girl is within a mile from this house, and I’m not going +to rest until she is found. Heaven knows why you’ve done it--she’s +fond of you, and there was no need----” + +“Don’t be a fool, Gilder,” said Dick roughly. “If you want to help, +help! But you’re not going to help by thinking that I’ve raised my +hand against Leslie Gwyn. I don’t care whether you’re a friend or +whether you are an enemy, but if you can help us bring her back safely +I will go on my knees to you!” + +Dick’s voice was trembling, vibrant; there was a look in his eyes +which not even Gilder, for all his prejudice, could mistake. He held +out his hand and Dick Alford took it with a grip that made him wince. + + + + + LIII + +Despite all her gloomy prognostications as to her sleepless night, +the head of Miss Wenner had hardly touched the pillow than her +breathing became regular and even noticeable. Leslie Gwyn smiled to +herself as she turned over and stealthily extinguished the candle. She +had not been lying ten minutes before she realized, from past +experience, that many a weary hour would pass before her eyes closed +in sleep. + +She had the alternative of relighting the candle and reading, or +counting myriads of sheep, and the first plan was somewhat hampered in +its achievement by the fact that there was nothing in the room to +read, and she dare not disturb the sentry, because that would probably +wake Mary. So she lay perfectly still, overcoming a mad desire to turn +every few minutes, trying to make her mind an absolute blank. + +With so much to occupy her thoughts, with the past twenty-four hours +and all the terrible shocks they had brought, her effort to turn her +mind into a cabbage was a hopeless failure. + +She heard a distant village clock striking the half-hours and the +hours and was grateful when one o’clock chimed, for she felt she had +turned the hill of the night and was approaching the blessed day. +There were queer creaks and noises in this old house: strange, +stealthy footsteps that seemed very real; fingers brushing along +wainscotings, queer little chatterings as of laughter. In spite of her +courage, Leslie got up and lit the candle again and felt happier. + +She lay on her back, gazing at the ceiling, striving to concentrate +upon one little crack that ran from corner to corner; and it seemed as +though, as she looked, the room went perceptibly darker, and was +filled with a strange unearthly light. + +And then she saw behind the door a great steel clothes hook that she +did not remember having seen before; and attached was a cord and a +shapeless something that hung with terrible limpness… a woman! She +opened her eyes wide, almost screamed, but put her hand before her +mouth in time. + +She had been dreaming, she realized, and she reached out for her +handkerchief to wipe her damp face. There was no hook behind the +door--nothing. She shivered and turned on her side, looked for the +twentieth time at her watch. Twenty-five minutes past one. + +_Tap, tap!_ + +That was distinct enough. It came from the room which Mary Wenner was +to have occupied. + +A silence, and then the unmistakable sound of gravel being thrown +against a window. Perhaps it was Dick and he wanted to see her. She +slipped out of bed, pulled a dressing gown about her, opened the door +of the dark room and went in. The windows were closed, but as she +entered the room she was startled by a third handful of gravel that +sounded with terrifying distinctness. + +With trembling hands she pulled up the catch and pushed the casement +open. A man was standing down below, and for a second she did not +recognize him. And then everything went round; she had to grip the +window ledge for support. + +It was Harry Chelford! + +“Is that you, my dear?” His voice was little above a whisper but +remarkably clear. + +She managed to answer: + +“Yes.” + +She was so dumbfounded that she could not ask one of the thousand +questions which crowded to her lips. + +“Harry! And alive!” + +“You are in terrible danger,” he said. “Will you come down? I can get +a ladder.” + +Before she could answer he had disappeared, and presently he came +back, carrying a triangular-shaped ladder, and planted it against the +side. The top came within a foot of the window ledge. + +“I can’t come, Harry; I’m not dressed. Besides, Miss Wenner is here.” + +He raised his finger to his lips. + +“Don’t wake her,” he said. + +He had a little roll of something in his hand and she noticed that he +was bareheaded. + +“Can’t you dress? I must see you.” + +“Shall I call Dick?” + +“No, no.” In his energy he almost raised his voice and looked back +over his shoulder. “That would spoil everything, and it would endanger +his life. Dress quickly, my dear.” + +What should she do? Her first instinct was to run to the door and tell +the guard what she had seen; her second was to obey him. His +earnestness and the terror in his voice made her yield to his +suggestion. Quickly she dressed by candlelight, hoping and praying +that Mary Wenner would wake up. Once she knocked against the girl’s +bed, but Miss Wenner slept peacefully, a seraphic smile on her +good-looking face, and the only notice she took of the disturbance was +to murmur, “Dick!” + +It needed that ludicrous interlude to restore Leslie’s courage; for +she could not be amused and afraid at the same time. + +Perhaps Dick was waiting below, she thought, and swinging herself over +the sill, she reached out her foot, found the top rung of the ladder, +and came down. Harry was standing on the grass plot, curiously alert +and watchful. + +“What is it, Harry?” she asked in a low voice, but he put his finger +to his lips again and led her, not, as she expected, toward the front +of the house, but by a wide circuit, keeping to the shadow of the +trees, until they went past the rosary and near to the stables. + +A dog barked as they passed in silence. + +“I can’t go any farther, Harry.” + +“You must, you must!” His voice was urgent, compelling. “I tell you +that not only my life, but your own is in danger.” + +“But what of Miss Wenner?” She drew back. + +“They will not touch her. My mother’s spirit will watch that poor +girl--she died in that room.” + +Leslie gasped. + +“Your mother?” she asked, in an awestricken whisper. + +“Come!” He was impatient, caught her by the arm and led her farther +down, until she saw near at hand the gleam of the Ravensrill. + +“But, Harry, I can’t go any farther.” She stopped resolutely. “I’m +sure you’re mistaken. Where have you been all this time? Everybody has +been looking for you and Dick has been terribly worried.” + +He laughed. (It was the laugh that the watchman heard.) + +“Dick is worried? That is rich!” + +And now, as the challenge of a distant voice came to her, she saw his +face in the moonlight. He was unshaven, unkempt, grimy of face and +hands; he wore no collar, and stood, a collarless man in a long frock +coat with a wild appearance. Slowly she drew back, dread and fear on +her face, and then he clutched her by the wrists. + +“If you scream I will throw you into the river and kneel on you until +you are dead,” he whispered in so calm and matter-of-fact a tone that +she could not believe he was serious. + +And yet she had an extra sense which told her that he was not only +serious, but that she was in deadly peril. He kept hold of her wrist, +or she would have taken to flight, though she would have little chance +of escaping one who in his school days was a noted sprinter.… She +remembered something else now and felt sick. Harry Chelford had +captained his public school team at Bisley and had carried everything +before him. This pale, anæmic youth was the greatest shot of his +time. The greatest shot! She remembered the bullet that was meant for +her, and he felt her dragging on his hand but said no word. She must +not lose her nerve at this moment of crisis. + +They were making for the ruins. Near the edge of the cutting, Puttler +had told her, were stationed two men; they must see her soon. But +Harry went no farther than the broken tower, and here he paused and +pulled the block of stone aside. + +Now she knew; they were going down to that dreadful underground cavern +where Dick had taken her. Dick Alford knew his brother was there! She +knew this long before she saw the basket, still filled with food, that +stood at the bottom of the steps. + + + + + LIV + +Harry had lit a candle, and, guided by this, she went down the steep +circular stairway. + +“He brought me that, food--the devil!” He pointed his shaking finger +to the basket. + +“Dick brought it?” she faltered. + +He nodded. + +“Poisoned,” he said. “But he didn’t catch me. Poisoned every bit of +it!” + +He carefully unwrapped a white napkin and showed a dainty pile of +sandwiches, took one and opened it. + +“You can see the crystals glittering on the meat,” he said, in so calm +and matter-of-fact a tone that she almost thought she saw something +glitter on the white flesh. + +Then he lifted the bottle and looked at it with a smile. + +“It was too childish. Nobody but a fool would have dreamt I could be +deceived.” He put the bottle and sandwiches back again carefully and +covered them with the napkin that had been over the basket. + +“Come,” he said, and they went farther into the apartment. + +She saw a big gap in the floor and a stone standing straightly up from +the centre. + +“I have a lamp below. I prepared this place a very long time ago +against such an emergency. Light and food--and all the water you want. +Will you go first?” + +He was very courteous and polite, took her hand to guide her, and held +the light so that she could see the stairs, and came down immediately +after, stopping to swing the stone into place. + +“Will you hold the candle?” he asked. + +She was trembling so violently that her fingers were soon covered with +hot grease, but she did not feel the smart of the boiling wax; her +eyes were fixed upon the man, fascinated. + +He was lighting a new storm lantern which burnt, she guessed, paraffin +gas, and it took some time before a brilliant bright light illuminated +the room in which she found herself. It was twice the size of the +apartment above, and neither the walls nor the floor had fallen into +decay. It was almost as new-looking as it had been when the Norman +builders had handed it to the Black Fathers of Chelfordbury. + +The first unusual things she saw were two sporting rifles that stood +in a corner of the room. Following her eyes, he smiled. + +“I shall not sell my life without a struggle,” he said firmly. + +The furniture consisted of a very old refectory table, the top of +which must have been at least four inches in thickness, a long form, +and a high chair that looked like a bishop’s throne. There were no +visible windows, but the ceiling did not quite reach the wall, and +there seemed a space all round the room where air was admitted. + +“Excuse me,” he said. + +He took the thing he had been carrying, unrolled it, and to her +astonishment, kissed it passionately before he carried it to a +truckle-bed that she had not noticed before and tacked it to a beam +which showed between the stone courses and was in truth the only wood +she had seen in the building. + +She looked in amazement, and knew the picture instantly. It was the +head of his mother. + +“How lovely!” he sighed. “How wonderful! Do you know, I feel that +nothing matters now, Leslie!” + +He smiled at her, and looked at that moment so happy that she could +have cried. + +“Richard hated her,” he went on. “He never lost an opportunity of +speaking ill of her. I am told that in my absence he used to bring the +servants into the library and together they would laugh and gibe at +this beautiful martyr.” + +“How absurd, Harry! You know Dick would do no such thing,” she said, +stirred to his defence. + +But he was not angry, nor did he show any resentment at her +championship. + +“You don’t know Dick,” he said simply. “Dick, of course, is the Black +Abbot. I only found it out a week or two ago, when I went into his +room and discovered the costume in a box. He had forgotten to put it +away.” + +She did not believe the only truth he had told her so far but she felt +that it would be undiplomatic, to say the least, to argue with him. + +“Harry, I can’t stay here, you know,” she said. “There is only one +room, and I have a weakness for a daily bath----” + +He walked across the room and pulled aside a sacking that hid one +corner, and pointed dramatically. + +“You will find everything you require here,” he said. “This room is +yours. I shall sleep upstairs, only coming below at the first hint of +danger, either to you or to me. The position calls for courage and +patience, and I know that my wife-to-be has those qualities to +excess.” + +He was his old, smiling, genial self. + +“By-the-way, there are plenty of books to read--I brought some away +from the house. They were rather heavy and I had to drag them a little +bit, but thank heaven I got just what I wanted.” + +She noticed them now for the first time, piled at one end of the +refectory table. He took up a volume and turned the leaves lovingly. + +“You do not read German? I think you told me that before. It is a +pity, because this is a very fascinating narrative, told by an +outsider of the Chelfords of the period. You will be pleased to learn +that I have located the treasure. It was not difficult. I knew all the +time that it was behind the second door in the room above.” + +“Have you known this place for long?” + +He nodded. + +“For six years,” he said. “I found it on the twenty-first anniversary +of my dear mother’s death. I think I ought to say ‘murder,’ for there +is no doubt that my father, who had all the worst qualities of Dick, +killed her--hanged her.” + +Her face contorted with horror. + +“In that room?” she said, in a strained voice. “Behind the door?” + +He nodded. + +“The thing was hushed up. My clever father was too great a man to be +put on trial for his life and the story was circulated that she had +died by her own hand.” + +Every word he said was a lie, as she knew, but he believed it. He +explained quite rationally how the light was worked; showed her the +little wash place with the stream of water running from the raw rock +through a cavity into some invisible deeps; even gave her a short +résumé of the history of the place. It had been built by the Black +Abbot himself for his own especial purpose. + +“My first idea was that there was another exit here, or rather an +entrance for those peculiar friends of his, but that I have failed to +discover.” + +He took up one of the rifles, shot back the bolt with the air of an +expert, and, going up the steps, unfastened the heavy oaken bar that +kept the stone in place. + +The slab pivoted round, and she had a wild idea that when it was +closed she would fasten it; but he was evidently prepared for this, +for she heard him drag a paving-stone to the edge of the hole and +place it so that the trap could not close. + +“Good-night, Leslie,” he said, peering down at her through his +spectacles. “You will not mind my light? I want to read a chapter +before I sleep.” + +For a quarter of an hour no sound broke the silence. She sat on the +bed, her hands clasped on her knees. And then she heard him move and +her breath came faster, but he had only a question to ask. + +“Tell me, Leslie, did Thomas leave any relations? I should like to +provide for them. The man annoyed me, but I really do not regret +killing him. But I should not like to feel that his relatives were +suffering through my act of justice.” + +She shook her head. + +“I don’t know,” she said, and it did not seem to be her voice. + + + + + LV + +It seemed an interminable time before his light went out. Was he +sleeping? Should she attempt to escape past him? From where she sat +she could see his hand, which lay over the edge of the pit, and she +remembered Dick telling her how light a sleeper he was. Systematically +and without moving, she searched the place with her eyes, foot by +foot. In one corner of the room square tins of every shape were piled. +She supposed they were preserved provisions and she wondered how he +got rid of the débris. She examined the wash place, cupped her hands +and drank of the cool, refreshing water, afterward bathing her face. +The touch of the cold spring water refreshed and invigorated her. + +How long she sat there motionless, she could not tell. She was in a +kind of coma, paralyzed by a sense of helplessness. It must have been +hours before she heard him move and, his blanket over his arm, and +rifle in hand, he crept down the steps and fastened the slab. + +“What is it?” she asked. + +“Don’t speak--it is he!” he whispered, and sat down by her side, his +hand on her shoulder. + +She heard the sound of footsteps above. + +Dick! + +She had to bite her lips to prevent the cry that came to her lips. +Harry was watching her--a scream and she would be dead. Dick could +never break open that trap in time, even if he could locate the sound. +Presently the footsteps went away and she felt the hand on her +shoulder relax. + +“Sorry to disturb you.” + +He picked up blanket and rifle and ascended the steps--she watched him +pull the paving-stone forward and after a while there was quietness. + +There must be some exit, if the legend of the disreputable Black Abbot +were true. She took off her shoes and walked noiselessly over the even +floor, examining it stone by stone. The walls were obviously +impenetrable; the vaulted ceiling was decorated with the lines of a +St. Andrew’s Cross that met in a great stone rosette in the centre. + +He had left a box of matches and a candle on the table. This she lit +and carried it into the tiny cavern where the water ran. She could see +no roof; she guessed it stretched up the full height of the tower, and +that somewhere above was the edge of the circular staircase that had +brought her down to the first cavern. + +Holding the light above her head, she strained her eyes upward and +presently she saw great iron D-shaped projections fixed at intervals +of a foot; they reached to the top, and, most blessed sight of all, +she saw above her head a star. + +And yet she was puzzled. The Abbot had a reputation for gallantry, and +it was hardly likely that the visitors who shared his solitude would +make their entrance by so precarious a means. She reached up, but her +hand was three feet from the nearest rung, and there was nothing in +the room on which she could stand. She went back to her bed +noiselessly and pulled out one of the sheets; she took the remaining +rifle and, by dint of great exertion, managed to push one end of the +sheet through the nearest rung. After ten minutes’ work the end came +down and she had a rope. She knotted together the sheets at the end, +and tested her weight. The staple held, and, springing up, she climbed +hand over hand to the lowest rung. Her arms were almost pulled from +their sockets; she was breathless, but she held on, and, reaching up, +caught the third rung and pulled herself up until her feet rested on +the first. She waited a little while to gain breath and began to +climb. Higher and higher, and then her heart sank. Above her, she saw +a steel grille, fixed immovably across the exit. It was impossible +even to put her arm through, the meshes were so small, and with a +bitter sense of disappointment, she descended again and slid down the +sheet to the floor. + +There was no escape this way. She unknotted the sheet and replaced it +in her bed, stained with rust and torn at the edges. She brought the +rifle back with her. She was an enthusiastic miniature target shot and +knew the mechanism of the weapon. Pulling out the magazine, she found +it loaded to its full capacity. Here, then, was something; her +confidence grew, though she prayed she might never have to use this +weapon upon the madman who slept so quietly above. The weapon might be +used to terrify him in an emergency. + +She went back to the wash place and looked up. Day was breaking, and +she took a sudden resolve. The man had been almost his normal self, as +she had known, and she guessed that this was but an interlude and that +there were periods when she must shoot to save her life. Stealthily +she crept up the stairs, rifle in hand, and she heard him stir, and +presently his shrill voice asked: + +“Where are you going? Stay where you are, you vixen----” + +She brought the butt of the rifle and smashed past the paving-stone +that prevented the trap from closing. The stone thudded down, and +instantly she swung round the heavy bar that kept it in place. She +heard him stamping and screaming above; heard, with a shivering +horror, the threats that, as she thought, no human tongue could frame; +staggering down the steps, she fell. + + + + + LVI + +A high official from Scotland Yard had arrived and was interviewing +Dick in the library. + +“I am wholly responsible. I have always known my brother was queer, +and about a year ago I was certain that the horrible taint of madness +which his poor mother transmitted to him was developing in a way which +could only have one end. I begged of him to see a medical man, but he +hated doctors. I brought down the best alienists from London in +various guises, sometimes as bailiffs, and occasionally as prospective +buyers of our property, but in their presence he behaved so rationally +that it was impossible that I could get a certificate. + +“My own position was a very delicate one. I am, as you know, the heir +to the property. Any step I took meant that the estate came into my +hands, and that eventually, when poor Harry died, as one doctor told +he must die in a few years, I should be branded with the stigma of +having put him away, and I was anxious to save the family name. My +chief anxiety was that he should never marry.” + +“Wasn’t it easy enough to take the girl into your confidence?” + +Dick was silent for a while. + +“Not in this case. There were reasons why----” + +And the official, dimly understanding, changed the subject. + +“Then you were the Black Abbot?” + +“Mostly,” confessed Dick. “My brother was terrified of the Abbot and +would never go out if there was a rumour that the Black Abbot was +about. I was especially anxious to keep him in the house, where, under +my eye, there was no chance for him to indulge in these extraordinary +paroxysms that have really alarmed the countryside. The man whom the +villagers feared and whom they call the Black Abbot, is really Harry. +I was a very silent Black Abbot,” he smiled faintly, “and I had no +other purpose than to keep Harry indoors. I’m going to say I did not +always succeed.” + +“I’m afraid the truth will have to come out now,” said the official, +shaking his head. + +“I wish it had come out last week,” replied Dick bitterly. + +“Do you think your brother is responsible for the disappearance of +Miss Gwyn?” + +“Undoubtedly. He must have attracted her to the window and persuaded +her to come down into the grounds. He was very plausible; no man would +dream that he was not sane, only I, who have seen”--he drew a long +breath--“what I have seen. I’ll tell you this, Colonel,” he said, with +sudden vehemence, “not all the lordship of Chelford, not all the +estates, not even the Chelford treasure, would make me live again my +life of the past five years! There are times,” he said, his voice +trembling with passion, “when I feel I would like to dig up the Abbey +and scatter its stones in the dust, raze this house to the ground, and +turn the place into a public park.” He laughed at his own excess. “I +am talking like an idiot. This place belongs to a family that knows +not Harry. He is just a terrible accident. My dear mother often told +me how worried my father was about Harry, his queer, secretive ways. +And yet in a way he is a sportsman, one of the best shots in England +as a boy, a great runner, and a wonderful fellow over a country, until +about eight years ago, when this treasure bug got into his brain and +he shut himself away from us all and gave his mind and his soul to +this wild chase.” + +“The gold?” + +Dick shook his head. + +“No,” he said. “If it were only the gold, that would have been an +intelligent interest in life.” + +He described Harry’s search for the elixir, the famous Life Water of +which the ancient Chelford had written in his diary. + +“It is probably no more than a flask of a native wine--Arac or the +like,” said Dick. “Poor Harry!” + +Miss Wenner had intended to leave by the early morning train but had +changed her mind. Possibly the arrival of Fabrian Gilder had been a +factor. She had one solution for Leslie’s disappearance. + +“Have you searched the Abbey?” she asked, not once but a dozen times. + +Dick was weary; the Abbey had been his first thought. He had suspected +this was Harry’s hiding place, and with his own hands had taken a +basket of provisions for him, but this, he saw, was untouched. + +There was one possibility about the underground cavern, and that was +the second door, and he had ordered the blacksmith and his assistant +to be at the stone tower at two o’clock that afternoon, with +instruments, one of which had to be procured from London. + +The presence of Miss Wenner was not as distasteful to Gilder as he +thought it would have been. To use a phrase of childhood, she was “on +his side.” In very truth, Miss Wenner was on anybody’s side if that +person happened to be agreeable to her. + +They were walking through the rosary before lunch, and certainly the +trend of Mary Wenner’s remarks was very comforting to a man who had +been so badly rebuffed. + +“If I had my way, Fabrian, dear”--she assumed all the rights and +privileges of an engagement which was somewhat illusory and he made +only a feeble resistance--“if I had my way I’d put you in charge of +this case. After all, you are the very man to solve this mystery and I +must say you could have knocked me down with a feather when you told +me you were fifty--you don’t look a day more than thirty--and you’ve +got experience, you’re a lawyer, you’re up to all kinds of +artfulness----” + +“Not to all kinds,” said Gilder with a grim recollection of a certain +blank check. + +“Well, to most kinds,” conceded Miss Wenner. “And what are they all +doing? This Dick Alford and this so-called detective? They’re just +standing around, scratching their heads, whilst you could go, as it +were, to the real heart of the mystery. Don’t deny it--I’m sure you +would, Fabe.” + +“Don’t call me Fabe, Mary,” he asked gently. “If you want to call me +by my Christian name, let us have all the three syllables.” + +“You’re a man of the world, Fabrian”--she accentuated the word as she +would have done “Mary Ann”--“you understand the ins and outs of +everything. Why don’t they come to you like men and say, ‘Mr. Gilder, +what is your opinion of this mystery?’ Instead of which, they don’t so +much as ask you if you’ve got a mouth!” + +“Perhaps they know that,” said Gilder in good humour. + +He lifted his head suddenly, a frown on his face. He had heard a shot; +more than a shot, the whirr and whine of a bullet. + +“What----” + +Something fell at his feet with a “plop!” He saw a little hole, and, +stooping, dug out a bullet with his fingers. + +“Where on earth did that come from?” + +He looked up at the sky, but the aëroplane which was later to make an +appearance, and which had nothing to do with this mysterious shooting, +was not yet in sight. + +Dick had heard the shot and was running across the lawn. + +“Did you----” he began. + +_Plop!_ + +They heard it again, and presently Dick saw leaves fall from a laurel +bush and heard the thud of an impact. One of the police who were still +patrolling the grounds shouted to him, but he could not hear what he +was saying, and raced across to him. Nearer at hand, he saw that the +man was pointing to the ruins. + +“It came from there,” shouted the constable, and Dick changed +direction. + +He was flying up the slope when the third shot sounded, and this time +he located it with fair accuracy. Somebody was shooting from the +tower. + +Happily, he had made preparations for the blacksmith’s visit, and +there was an assortment of lanterns near the entrance. He stopped long +enough to light one, and, slipping back the catch with his knife, he +pushed aside the stone corner piece and ran down the stairs. The room +was empty. He tried the mystery door; that, too, was closed. Somebody +shouted his name from the landing above and he answered: + +“Come down, Gilder. There’s nobody here.” + +Gilder descended the steps gingerly and looked round with his keen, +shrewd eyes. And then he remembered and pointed to the slab. + +“Have you tried that? I meant to tell you before.” + +“What is it?” + +“I don’t know, but I rather think that the stone turns on a pivot. If +that is the case, there are pretty stout supports underneath that will +want cutting through.” + +Gilder sprawled flat on the floor, his ear to the crack. + +“There’s nothing there that is audible,” he said. “Can’t you smell +anything?” + +He put his nose to the crack. + +“There’s a petrol light burning down there, or else it has been +burning recently.” + +Flat on his face, Dick sniffed. + +“Yes,” he said, and called: “Leslie!” + +There was no answer. He called again, with a like result. + +Gilder went up the stairs and searched amongst the tools that had been +brought in readiness for the afternoon’s investigation. He selected +two saws and a second lantern, and, lighting this, he descended to +Dick’s side. + +“It is pretty sure to be an oaken support; these old builders seldom +used iron,” he said. + +Throwing off his coat, he rolled up his sleeves. The thin blade of the +saw worked down between the stones and after a while he began sawing +gingerly. + +“It’s wood,” he said. “You’ll find yours is the same.” + +They both worked at one end, for, as he pointed out, there would only +be one bar, the other end of the stone being bevelled to meet the edge +of the floor. The wood was like rock, and both men were hot before +they had half-sawn through the support. Presently Dick drew out his +saw. He had gone through the oak and had heard the loose end fall +below. A few seconds later, Gilder’s saw passed through the last +obstruction. Gingerly he put his foot on the edge and pressed down, +and the stone trap swung open. + +They looked down into a dark vault; and now the smell of the burning +lamp was very pungent. Dick lowered the lantern and peered down. He +could see no sign of human life. He caught a view of the end of a bed, +a table, and, on the floor, a rifle. He reached the bottom and, +swinging his lantern round, called: + +“Leslie!” + +A mocking echo came back to him from the little cavern at the far end +of the apartment. The place was empty; the man and woman who, five +minutes before, had fought in a death struggle, had disappeared. + + + + + LVII + +“Leslie!” + +He called again, his voice hoarse with anxiety. He had seen two little +shoes by the side of the bed. Her hat was on the floor, crushed into a +shapeless mass. Picking up the rifle, he felt the barrel; it was still +warm, and under the tower there were four empty cartridge cases. And +then, holding his lantern high, he saw the rungs in the rough face of +the wall, and jumped to the conclusion that she had escaped that way. +Within a minute he leapt up, caught the lower rung and ran up the +ladder to the top, oblivious of one or two ominous cracks as his man +weight came upon the old ironwork. The grille at the top stopped him. +He had seen it, but thought it might be movable. + +“They couldn’t have gone that way,” he said breathlessly as he came +down to the ground. + +Gilder rubbed his gray hair. + +“Then where on earth have they gone?” he asked irritably. + +They searched every inch of the long room, pulled the bed from the +wall, but beneath was solid stone pavement. The table seemed fastened +to the floor; they could not move it. + +“Do you notice anything about this floor?” Gilder asked suddenly. “It +is not level.” + +And when Dick looked, he saw this was true. The floor sloped gradually +down from the wash cavern to the wall behind the steps. Gilder went in +search of a hammer, and the two, now reinforced by Puttler and the +Scotland Yard man, went over every inch of the wall and flooring, +tapping and sounding. They struck no hollow place. The four men took +hold of the side of the table and tried to drag it from its +foundations, but they might as well have tried to move the wall +itself. It had a thick oaken base, from which ran three pillars +supporting the enormously heavy top. + +It was very clear to Dick what had happened. The girl had been +attacked, and, having discovered this opening to the sky, had procured +a rifle by some means and had fired up the shaft to attract attention. +Then she had been overcome and--what? + +The water ran down through a crevice in the solid rock about six or +eight inches wide. It was impossible that any human being could have +gone down that narrow slit, but, to make sure, he had the edges of the +water-worn rock broken away. The blacksmith by this time was waiting +above. Dick had him brought down with his tools; the second door might +yield some sort of solution. + +For half an hour they worked with jacks and levers, and presently, +with a deafening crack, the lock parted and the door was pushed open. +There was revealed a room similar in shape and size to that which Mary +Wenner had discovered; with this exception, that there were no stone +benches, and in the centre of the apartment was a circular hole. Dick +knelt by the side and held down his lantern; he heard the faint “clug” +of water, and saw the light reflected at a considerable depth. + +“A well,” he said. “All these old places have an interior well. +There’s one in the Tower of London, in the centre of the dungeon.” + +This room had been used as a prison at a distant period. At intervals +along the walls hung rusted chains, with leg-irons attached. In one +corner he saw a heap of rags, glimpsed a milk-white bone, and +shuddered. What was the history of this poor wretch who had been shut +away from the light of God’s sunshine, to die miserably in this dark +and dreadful place? + +“Well, there’s nothing there,” said Gilder, peering over. + +Dick tied his lantern to the end of a cord and let it slowly down to +the depths. Thirty feet below, as near as he could judge, the bottom +of the lantern touched water. The old builders had builded splendidly. +The green, weed-grown sides of the well seemed intact. And then his +heart almost stood still. A hand was thrust out, seemingly from the +solid brickwork of the well; a white hand on which flashed and +sparkled a single diamond that he knew well. And from below he heard a +muffled voice and in his agitation the cord which held out the lantern +slipped from his hand into the water. + +He cursed aloud in his rage at his own criminal carelessness. + +“Give me the other lantern!” he called and pulling the other hand over +hand, he untied it and flung it aside, fastening in its place the +lighted storm lamp that Puttler handed to him. “And get a +rope--quickly!” + +But there was no rope nearer than Fossaway Manor, and he fumed in his +impatience and would have made an attempt to slip down the treacherous +sides of the well if Puttler had not restrained him. + +After an eternity one of the detectives came running back carrying a +rope and, dropping the free end, they fastened the other to a crowbar +and placed this across the open doorway. Dick slipped down the rope, +the handle of the lantern between his teeth. The sides were wet and +slimy and presently he came to the place where he had seen the girl’s +hand. + +It was a small air hole about six inches by four. He tried to look +through with the aid of his lamp, but he could see nothing but a rough +rock wall. He called the girl by name, but no answer came and the word +“Leslie” came echoing back from the interior. + +And now he saw that these little apertures occurred at regular +intervals. The first two were hidden by overhanging water weeds, but +from below they were visible. Some sort of natural stone gallery +existed on the other side of this stonework, and he remembered having +heard at some remote period that the Abbey had been built upon an +early English catacomb. In all probability each of those apertures +represented a distinct “landing” or a place where some natural winding +staircase touched the wall in its revolutions. + +He had made a rough loop for his foot, and they passed him down a +crowbar at the end of a cord. With this he attacked the hole in the +wall, but found himself engaged in an impossible task. Nothing short +of an explosive could blow these holes larger. He was almost exhausted +by his efforts, and they had to haul him to the top for a rest. +Puttler was anxious to go down, but Dick insisted upon being lowered +again. This time he took with him a rod, to the end of which a small +electric bulb had been attached. The flex ran along the rod, which was +a bamboo cane, and terminated in a small battery in his pocket. He +switched on the light and pushed the bulb through the opening. He +could see now that the wall, which he thought was natural rock, had +been roughly hewn, but he could not see the floor nor more than a foot +in either direction. Withdrawing the rod, he put in his hand and felt +around, but could touch nothing but the outer facing of the well. + +“Look out!” + +The warning shout was Gilder’s and came from above. He drew out his +hand quickly. + +“Away from the wall--push with your feet!” yelled Gilder. + +He had a glimpse of a grimy hand thrust out from one of the square air +holes, saw the flicker of steel and felt the rope giving as strand +after strand was slashed. Then, with a crack, the rope parted, and he +went down, down, until the bitterly cold waters engulfed him. + +He struck the bottom with his feet and paddled up to the surface +again. He was instantly chilled to the marrow. He saw the lantern come +down toward him, and heard Gilder say: + +“Hold to the cord just enough to keep you afloat.” + +Dumbly he obeyed. His eyes were fixed on the airhole. So, too, were +the eyes of Puttler, who, flat on the ground, his head and shoulders +over the edge, covered with his revolver the place where the hand had +emerged. + +The cut end of the rope was passed down to him. By reaching up he +could just grip it, but not sufficiently to obtain a sure purchase. +Cramp had attacked his legs. The paralyzing coldness of the water was +astounding, and in one moment of fear it seemed that his life was to +end miserably in this dark hole. There was no foothold on either side, +and unless help came quickly he knew he could no longer keep his +senses. + +Almost within reach was the lowest of the small apertures, but it did +not seem worth while to reach for that. The cord of the lantern served +to keep him afloat, the warmth of the burning wick was the only +comfort he had. + +“Dick!” He heard his name whispered with a fierce intensity. “Dick, +take my hand!” + +It came out of the lower air hole, and with an effort he reached and +found his wrist gripped. And then his senses left him. + +When he came to himself he was lying in the open air. The warmth of +the sun’s rays made him sleepy. + +“Where is Leslie?” he asked, struggling up on his elbow. + +They looked at him blankly, thinking that he was in a delirium. + +“How did I get out?” + +“Gilder went down for you when he saw you drop.” + +“But Leslie caught me by the wrist,” he said wildly. “She was +there--didn’t you see her, Puttler?” + +Puttler shook his head. + +“I saw you holding on to the side just as the new rope came, and +Gilder went down for you.” + +Dick was ghastly. + +“You didn’t see her? You didn’t hear her?” + +Struggling to his feet, he passed his hand wearily across his +forehead. Had he been dreaming? Was that part of the delirium of the +death that nearly overtook him? But he was sure, as positive as of any +human experience he had had. Leslie’s hand had come out from the wall +and caught him by the wrist. He had seen the diamond scintillate in +the light of the lantern and then he could remember nothing more. But +it had been Leslie. He could still feel the pressure of her fingers +about his wrist. He had not been dreaming. Somewhere in the deeps of +the earth was the woman he loved, and he was helpless to save her. He +covered his face with his hands and for a while his shoulders heaved. + + + + + LVIII + +Leslie had no doubt that the wooden bar would hold. She could afford +to sit, covering her ears to shut out the hideous noise above, until +his paroxysm had subsided. It must have been in such a mad fury as +this, after the killing of Thomas, that he had wreaked destruction +upon his room before, in a sudden fit of panic, he had got out of the +window and, taking his books from the library (she saw the torn and +soiled pillow case in which he had packed them) had escaped to this +lair of his. She took her hand from her ears; he was moaning +dreadfully, but somehow she could endure that. Fortunately, she had +put on her wrist-watch when she dressed, and this marked the passage +of the hours. Noon came, there would be people about the estate now, +though it was not likely that Dick would come again to the ruins +unless he was attracted there. + +The plan she had made she now proceeded to put into execution. +Standing under the shaft, she fired a round into the air. The third +shot struck the iron grille and ricochetted with an angry buzz that +sounded like the drone of a bee. No sound came from the room above. If +she could only attract Dick to the ruins, she could indicate her +position. But Harry had a rifle! She went cold at the thought. She may +have lured him to his death. + +For one mad moment she thought of opening the trap and forcing her way +out at the point of the rifle. But it was too late now. And then she +heard his voice, sounding hollowly and faintly. + +“Leslie!” + +She went up one of the steps so that she could hear him better. + +“They’re coming, Leslie. You will tell them I haven’t hurt you, won’t +you?” + +“Yes, yes,” she replied eagerly. + +He said nothing after that, until there came a shuffling and stamping +of feet above her head, and then she heard him say: + +“Hullo, Dick, old man! I hope I haven’t given you any trouble.” + +From below she heard a deep rumble of sound which might have been a +voice, but in her eagerness she was tugging at the oaken support, and +in another second the stone fell behind her and she scrambled up +through the trap. She could see nothing; the place was in darkness. + +“Dick!” she called. + +And then a hand gripped her, and she realized with horror that all the +shufflings of feet and the conversation had been so much acting on his +part. + +She was still holding the rifle, but before she could raise it he had +gripped the stock and wrenched it from her hand. She heard it fall +with a clatter on the stone floor below. + +Half swooning in her fear and terror, her struggles grew weaker. He +was holding her in his arms and his strength was surprising. + +“We are going below, my sweet,” he whispered in her ear. “At last I +know the truth! So it was Dick you wanted! Dear Dick!” + +He was chuckling softly to himself as he carried her to the top of the +steps. + +“Will you walk down, or must I throw you?” he asked, in a tone so even +and rational that he might have been uttering some commonplace of +everyday life. + +With trembling knees she walked down the steps into the lighted room, +and he followed, pausing to close the trap and secure it firmly. + +“Sit down.” He pointed to the settle by the table and immediately she +sat down. Her face was ghastly; her last reserves of courage were +almost sapped. “You have hurt me beyond forgiveness, Leslie,” he said, +his solemn eyes fixed on hers. “Do you realize what you have done? You +have treated with contempt Harry Alford, Eighteenth Earl of Chelford, +Viscount of Carberry, Baron Alford.…” + +With the solemnity of a child reciting a lesson he repeated the titles +he held, even to a remote barony of Aquitaine which the Chelfords had +held in the dim past. She had a queer feeling that she was standing +before a judge, listening to an indictment of some hideous crime she +had committed. + +“You have attempted to endanger my life; you have conspired with those +who hate me; you have treacherously held communication with and given +comfort to my enemies.…” + +There were other charges, that would have sounded ludicrous at other +times, would have aroused her to fury, but she listened now, +husbanding all her strength for the coming struggle. + +His rifle leant against the steps, but he barred her way effectively. +Looking round for some weapon, she saw nothing but the lamp and that +was too heavy for use. + +“For you,” he said, in tones of deepest gravity, “there can be only +one punishment--death!” + +His voice trembled. She felt that, in his queer, crazy way, he was +sorry for her, and regretted the necessity. She tried to rise, but her +limbs refused her office. She put out an appealing hand, and then, +with a sudden leap, he was on her. His hand closed about her throat +strangling the scream. And then, up above, there was the unmistakable +sound of footsteps and a deep voice. It was Dick. She tried to call +out, but he held her tight. With one hand he reached over and +extinguished the lamp; and now, in a final desperation of fear, she +threw him backward and for a second he released his hold. + +But before her tortured throat could utter a sound he was at her +again; pressing her back against the edge of the table. She tore at +his hand, but it was immovable.… This was death! A loud ringing in her +ears, a fiery light before her eyes; she was losing consciousness… and +then she felt the table move, at first slowly and then so rapidly that +she lost her balance. The big refectory table was sliding lengthways +toward the end wall. His grip relaxed and in that instant he dropped +away from her, and, reaching out her hand, she could feel nothing. She +heard a thud and a groan and stepped forward--into space. She did not +see the yawning cavern before her. One desperate effort she made to +recover her balance, caught at the hard edge of the floor as she fell, +and went slipping and sliding down stairs that cracked and broke +beneath her, until her feet struck something soft and yielding. +Overhead there was a deep rumbling sound, a soft thud, and silence. + + + + + LIX + +Harry was unconscious. She felt his face and her fingers touched +something warm and wet. + +She could see nothing; the darkness was impenetrable. No sound came +from the room from which she had fallen. The floor was thick, the +heavy oaken base of the refectory table gliding, she guessed on +rollers that worked as truly as they had when, hundreds of years +before, the Black Abbot found this exit so valuable, had slipped back +into its place. If she only had some sort of light! It occurred to her +to search the unfortunate Harry. Presently she found a silver box +containing matches. She struck one and looked around. They were lying +at the foot of what had once been a wooden stair. The treads were +broken, the heavily carved handrail had rotted, leaving two wide gaps. +Half the treads had vanished, the other half were now broken by her +fall. + +Harry was lying in a recess carved from the solid rock, and left and +right ran a narrow passage streaming with water. She left the alcove +and struck another match. The passage curved and twisted so that only +a few feet in either direction was visible. Pools of still water +filled the hollows of the floor; long bunches of gray fungus, +grape-like in its formation, hung from the roof. Yet the air was sweet +enough. She felt a gentle draught coming from the left-hand passage, +but as yet she could not explore and she returned to Harry. + +His eyes were closed, his lips bloodless, and through the grime his +face was gray. With a gasp of horror she thought he was dead, but when +she put her hand under his waistcoat she could feel the faint flutter +of his heart. He had an electric torch somewhere in his pocket, he had +told her, and she began to search. It necessitated moving him slightly +and as she did so he groaned. The lamp was in the tail pocket of his +frock-coat, a square, flat lamp, of a type usually to be found in +every room of Fossaway Manor. + +She thought at first that the unconscious man carried two, but found +that the second package was a spare battery. Switching on the light, +she examined the roof above the broken stairs. She saw it was the +underside of a slab of wood. From here she could see the rollers on +which the table ran; stout things of wood. Near the head of the stairs +two large wooden grips projected downward, rather like the butts of +huge Browning pistols, and she guessed that by this means the table +was drawn back from below. + +When she looked at Harry again he was staring upward with wondering +eyes. + +“What happened?” he asked. + +“We must have fallen through a trap,” she said. “Do you think you +could reach those handles?” She pointed to them. + +He rose unsteadily to his feet, replaced his spectacles which had been +knocked off in his fall, and looked at the butts. Only two of the +treads remained intact. He tried one, but it broke under his feet and +the supporting posts were sagging. + +“I can’t reach that,” he said. “It must be twelve feet high.” + +Then she noticed his wound and made him sit down while she dressed it +with a strip of silk torn from her skirt. + +“How on earth did we get into this beastly place?” he asked, +wondering. “Where are we?” + +“We’re under the Abbey,” she said, and his frown ended in a grimace of +pain. + +“Where is Dick?” he asked. + +“He is up there, I think,” she said. + +And yet why should Dick be there? He would not know his way into the +lower chamber, she thought, with a sinking heart. + +“Do you think you can walk?” + +He looked round in dismay. + +“I can walk all right, but whither?” + +“Let us try the left-hand passage first,” she suggested, and he was +agreeable. + +The left-hand passage, they found, was a steep ascent which turned +continuously to the left. It was like one of those corkscrew tunnels +through which she had travelled in Switzerland, where the train +burrows its way upward in the heart of the solid rock. Was it above +Montreux or on Pilatus? She was too tired to think. + +At the first turn she stopped. She had seen a glimmer of light, and, +making an inspection, she found a square hole, cut apparently in the +rock; the further end was covered with hanging weeds, and through +these she saw the light distinctly, a faint yellow glow. They +continued their climb, and presently came to another small opening. +Here, then, was one of the sources of air supply, though little came +this way, for when she lit a match before it the flame scarcely +wavered. + +“How much farther are we going?” asked Harry faintly. “I’m nearly all +in.” + +“We must go on,” she said. “This probably brings us to the open air +somewhere.” + +He put his hand on her shoulder, and, walking slowly, they made +another complete turn of the winding passage, and this time they found +an air hole that was not weed-covered. The light was stronger now, +and, looking through, she thought she saw a swaying cord. And she +heard something, too--voices. It was not an illusion; somebody was +talking at an immense distance away, it seemed. She looked again. The +cord seemed very near, but when she thrust her hand through the +opening and tried to grasp it, she knew that she had been the victim +of an optical illusion. She called out but there was no answer. She +must have imagined the voices. + +And then she heard a faint shout and the yellow light which had shone +through the entrance went out. + +“I can’t go any farther.” Harry collapsed against the wall and slid +down into a sitting position, his head on his breast. + +“Do you mind if I leave you in the dark?” she asked. + +He shook his head wearily, and, leaving him, she continued the climb, +and presently found herself in a straight, narrow passage. At some +period an attempt had been made to dress the sides with stone slabs. +The wall was littered with crumbling fragments of stone, and gaps +showed where age and the action of the damp had detached the dressing +from the walls. As near as she could judge, she was moving away from +the Abbey in the direction of Fossaway Manor. + +This latter was a guess. It was impossible that it could lead toward +the cut road to the north of the estate. Then the explanation came to +her: she was passing under the Mound, the high bank that fringed the +Ravensrill. What light feet had trodden this way, she wondered? What +fears or hopes, desire or despair, had sped along this rough stone +floor? Unconsciously she was reconstructing an ancient cause and +effect. The effect brought her to a standstill. Right across the +passage a wall had been built; a solid barrier of masonry which +checked all further movement. + +Though she did not know and could not guess, here was the obstacle +that the revengeful Lord of Chelford had set up after his assassin had +gone forth to slay the man who had dishonoured him. No more would the +light steps of frail womanhood trip along this secret passage, and +since Yvonne of Chelford had died of a broken heart no woman’s foot +had stirred this dust. + +Leslie turned back, her courage failing. Approaching the spot where +she had left Harry, she heard his soft chuckle and her skin crept. + +“Leslie. Leslie!” he whispered eagerly. “You have no idea what a bit +of good luck I’ve had!” + +And when he came into the light of her lamp, he was his old exalted +self. + +“What do you think happened?” + +She was conscious now of voices. She heard somebody shout and a faint +answer, but faint as it was, she recognized the voice. It was Dick’s. + +“What has happened?” she asked quickly. + +He doubled up with silent laughter and could not speak for a minute, +and then he showed her a knife. + +“With that,” he said complacently. “I saw him go down… and then the +rope came near… I could have touched it. Then I remembered I had my +knife and I reached through and before they could pull it away I’d cut +it.” + +She gazed at him in horror. + +“Was somebody on the rope?” she gasped. + +He nodded gravely. + +“The arch-enemy of the human race,” he said in a sober tone. “Richard +Alford.” + +Petrified with terror, she put her ear to the hole and heard Dick +speaking. Then without a word she fled down the slope. Round and round +the circular passage she went until she was almost dizzy. Presently +she reached the lower air hole, put through her hand and tore away the +veiling weeds. + +“Dick, Dick!” she called. + +She could see him now, for the air hole was just above water level. +His face was gray and drawn. + +“Dick!” + +She thrust out her hand and presently closed about his ice-cold wrist, +and at that moment Harry’s hand fell on her shoulder and she was +dragged backward. She felt the wrist slip, she heard the splash of +water as Dick Alford fell, and fainted. + + + + + LX + +She woke and it was so dark she could not believe her eyes were open +until she felt the lids. There was no sound. She was lying on the +hard, uneven floor where she had fallen, she thought, but when she put +out her hand to feel for the air hole, her fingers touched rough rock. +Groping round for the flash lamp, she found nothing. Presently, +however, she touched a smooth, cold surface. It was Harry’s knife, a +long-bladed clasp knife. + +And then she remembered clearly. Dick was in the water, drowning. She +struggled to her feet, trembling in every limb. + +Dead perhaps.… She staggered blindly forward and came in contact with +the wall. Gripping her hands till the nails cut the palm, she strove +to regain her self-control. He would be rescued; there were men with +him, she told herself, and became calmer and again sat down, so her +back was to the wall, and waited, the open knife on her lap. Feeling +in her pocket for a handkerchief, her hand touched the matchbox, and +she took it out with a sense of gratitude. + +She was weary to the point of exhaustion. The rough flooring had +slashed the soles of her silk stockings to ribbons and her feet were +terribly sore. She waited for some time before she struck her first +match, for the box was already half empty. She saw that she was in a +part of this underground system which was unfamiliar to her. The roof +was higher; the walls bulged in like the sides of an hourglass, and +the floor had been roughly paved. At intervals there seemed to be +niches, alcoves in the wall, and again she thought of the Swiss +tunnels with their safety niches. There was no sign of the lamp; +evidently Harry had carried that with him when he had gone off. It was +not like him to leave her; even in his delirium he would not have done +that, she thought. + +As the match burnt out she heard halting footsteps re-echoing down the +passage, and, closing the knife, she slipped it into her jacket pocket +and waited. He must have been a long way from her when she first heard +him; the passage acting as a huge speaking-tube. + +“Are you all right, Leslie?” He was normal again. “I’m sorry I had to +leave you, but this place rather rattles me, and I had to go along and +see if I could find an exit.” + +“Where are we?” she asked. + +“I don’t know. I carried you down that wretched circular arrangement +and you were fearfully heavy,” he added, so naïvely that the girl +laughed for the first time in that period of horror. “Do you know, +Leslie,” he squatted down on the floor by her side--“I have an idea. +Do you remember those holes we looked through?” + +“Yes, I remember them,” she said, wondering what was coming next. + +“Do you know that they are placed in the side of a well of some kind?” + +Not a word about Dick. He had forgotten the rope cutting and the +horror that followed. + +“Has it occurred to you,” he went on, “that the treasure may be at the +bottom of that well? It only struck me a few minutes ago. If we could +get out and have a talk with Dick, he’s such an ingenious devil that +I’m sure he would find the opening of the well, which may be inside +the old Abbey itself. Most of these mediæval buildings have a well in +the centre and kept their water supply enclosed.” + +“You didn’t find an exit?” she asked. + +“No,” he said. “I got into a sort of labyrinth and I thought I should +never get out again. Good heavens! Look at your feet!” + +They were indeed in a sorry plight, swollen and bleeding. In an +instant he had pulled off his own shoes. + +“Put them on,” he said authoritatively, and when she demurred, he +seized her foot and slipped her toes into the shoe. “I was a great +runner in my day,” he said, with a hint of pride, “and barefooted +running was my specialty--to use a horrible theatrical word.” + +The shoes were much too big for her, but the comfort of them after +walking barefooted on that rough floor! + +“There’s one place I haven’t explored, and that is the little side +passage to the left. There has been some sort of a fall there and the +rock looks rotten. I don’t like to attempt an exploration. By the way, +what made you faint?” he asked suddenly. + +“I don’t know--nerves, I suppose,” she said. + +It was useless and even dangerous to tell him of what had happened by +the wall of the well. + +“I thought it might be that,” he said. “If you feel fitter now we’ll +go along.” + +He walked ahead, switching his lamp on and off at intervals. He wanted +to save his batteries, he told her, which had shown signs of running +down. All the time he kept up an incessant chatter. He had plans about +the future of the Abbey and grew enthusiastic when he expounded his +scheme. + +“This is not even a Saxon-English burrow, but probably goes back to +the days of the original inhabitants of Britain,” he said. “We are +walking in paths that were originally cut by cavemen. Doesn’t that +thrill you, Leslie?” + +“Terribly,” she said, with unconscious irony. + +“I’ll have the place wired and lit; it will be necessary to increase +the electric supply, but Dick will see to that. I may present it to +the nation or to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners--I’m not certain +which. There is no doubt from an archæological point of view.…” + +So he talked on and she followed him, sometimes listening, sometimes +her mind occupied with the agony of thought. Was Dick safe? She was +sure that he was not alone; there were men at the top of the well and +they would save him. It was not possible that Dick Alford should die +in that dark place, that his splendid life should be ended so +tragically. The walking was tiring, for they were climbing all the +time. + +They must have covered about a quarter of a mile when he stopped. + +“Here is the side passage,” he said, and warned her: “Don’t go into +it; the stones are still falling.” + +He put his light into the hole--it was no more--and she saw a great +heap of fallen rock in the middle of the path. There was just room +between the top of the heap and the roof to crawl through. But what +she noticed instantly was the strong current of air that fanned her +cheeks when she stopped to look through the aperture. + +“This must be the way, Harry,” she said instantly. “Can’t you feel the +air?” + +“I noticed that,” he agreed, but was reluctant to enter this +unpromising byway. + +“We must go, Harry. There’s no other way out,” she said. “We are +getting farther and farther down, away from the Abbey, and, as you +say, beyond here is only a labyrinth that brings you back to the place +from where you started.” + +“All right,” he agreed, with evident distaste. “I had better go +first.” + +He crawled gingerly over the pile of stones and slid down on the other +side. + +She heard his voice. + +“It is all right here,” he said, and then the light of his lamp showed +and she followed him. + +The passage was very high; it was a natural fissure in the rock. Yet +the hand of man must have been here, for the floor had been levelled, +and there was evidence of animal life. A long black shape scudded +across the path and disappeared through a hole. The girl gave a little +scream and shrank back. + +“It is only a weasel,” said Harry calmly. “Where a weasel can get, we +can get.” + +The passage had widened and now the work of man became evident. They +were in a square chamber with two entrances on either side. The roof +was of vaulted stone that seemed to bulge downward as if it supported +a weight beyond its capacity, but this was hidden by the long +stalactites that flashed in the light of the lantern. And she +shivered. It was extraordinarily cold, almost as if they had come into +an ice house. + +“No door. I wonder what the idea of this place was.” + +It was the first man-made chamber they had seen. The walls were +running with water; wet and shining; the roof dripped incessantly, but +only one small pool of water gathered on the floor; the rest ran off +in a central chamber and apparently into the solid rock. + +“The dripping of water wears away stone,” quoted Harry, and pointed to +the floor with its tiny saucer-shaped depression. + +There was no sign of door at either entrance and he went ahead of her +through the farther entrance, covered a few yards, and stopped, +looking upward. + +“Daylight!” he said. + +The first thing of which she was conscious was that, away from the +little room, she was warm again. + +The shaft that worked upward was a natural fissure. They could see the +rough edges of rock jutting out at intervals. In some places it was +wide enough to hold a full-sized man; in other places it was so narrow +that only an arm could have reached through. But there it was, the +clear, uninterrupted view of the sky, and the girl beheld a phenomenon +with which miners are familiar, the view of a white, winking star in +broad daylight. + +“That is where the air comes from,” said Harry. “Now we’ll try where +this passage leads.” + +It led to a blank wall of solid rock, he found. They stared at each +other in the darkness. + +“We must try back,” said Harry. + +Hardly were the words out of his mouth than there was a distant rumble +and roar, the ground beneath their feet shook, and down the passageway +through which they had reached the Cold Room swept a cloud of flying +dust. + +“Wait,” he said, and flew along the passage. + +He was gone a few minutes before he returned. She could not see his +face except from the reflected light he threw upon the floor to guide +him on his way. + +“The roof has fallen in,” he said, and there was a tremor in his +voice. “I am afraid, Leslie, we are finished!” + + + + + LXI + +A hot bath and a meal, though every morsel seemed to choke him, +restored Dick Alford to something like himself. There was hope--faint +indeed, but still hope. He had despatched his bailiff in search of +explosives, but explosives cannot be bought over the counter like +cheese and bacon. He had a telephone message from the man to say that +he was on his way to London and would return with the necessary +apparatus. Dick’s plan was simple; even then a derrick was being +rigged over the well; his plan was to dynamite the wall of the well +and to get into the gallery. + +“For a long time I’ve been suspicious that the rock on which the Abbey +was built was honey-combed with passages. My father told me something +about it and I’ve seen an old plan that shows an elaborate system of +corridors, though the family has always thought this was largely +imaginative on the part of the artist.” + +“Have you the plan now?” asked Gilder. + +Dick shook his head. + +“Harry took everything of that nature away with him the night he left +the house.” + +“It is not amongst the books you found in the underground room?” said +Puttler, and a search was made of the library, but without success. + +They were on their way to the ruins when Puttler saw the aëroplane in +the sky. It circled twice and then began to dip steeply. + +“I believe that fellow is coming here,” he said. + +And so it proved. The machine roared its progress for a hundred yards +or more, and then dropped. Presently they saw a man get down. Though +he wore an airman’s helmet, Dick recognized him. It was Arthur Gwyn. + +He met Gilder’s scowl with a little laugh. + +“I’ve got some money of yours, Gilder,” he said, and dragged with some +difficulty a huge packet from the pocket of his leather coat. “That is +more or less the amount I owe you, unless the franc has depreciated in +value since I left Paris. And now you can do your damnedest!” + +Gilder took the packet without a word and Arthur turned to Dick +Alford. + +“I read about Leslie in the French papers,” he said simply, “and so I +came back. Has she been found?” + +Dick shook his head. + +“Have you any idea where she is?” + +Dick told him all that had happened that afternoon and Arthur Gwyn +listened in silence. When Dick came to speak of his plan, he shook his +head. + +“I had my early training as an engineer before I went into the law,” +he said surprisingly, “and I tell you, from my elementary knowledge of +the science, that you’re likely to blow in the whole well, and if +there’s anybody on the other side, God help them!” + +He accompanied them to the lower room and was swung down on the +derrick to make an inspection. When he returned to the surface his +report was not very promising. + +“So far as I can see,” he said, “whilst you may enlarge the opening of +any of these air holes, you may also bring about a fall of the rock +inside. You’re dealing with surfaces which have been exposed to the +chemical action of the air.” + +He went down and made an inspection of the lower room, which was new +to him, and, as they had done, tried to pull the table aside. And then +he did what they had not attempted; he pushed at the table at one end +and felt it move, at first slowly and then quickly, as though he had +set in motion a counterweight. He had just time to swing himself on +the table and grip its edge when the aperture appeared under his feet. + +Dick saw the broken stair, and, sitting on the edge of the hole, +dropped through to the rocky floor just as the table slid into its +place. They pushed it back again and propped it, and Arthur and Gilder +joined him below carrying lanterns. He saw a piece of something dark +on the floor and picked it up. It was a strip of silk. + +“This is the way,” he said quietly. “I’ll work to the left; you go to +the right, Gilder.” + +Arthur made a rapid mental calculation. + +“The left passage will lead you to the well, and unless I’m very much +mistaken you will find the air holes on your right-hand side. If you +don’t mind, I’ll go with you.” + +The men ascended the treacherous slope and came to the first of the +air holes, continued up until they reached the straight passage down +which Leslie had made her fruitless journey. They, too, were brought +to a halt by the wall barrier, and returned the way they had come. +There was no sign of Leslie or Harry, but when Dick passed the alcove +down which he had dropped from the Abbot’s room he found a burnt match +stalk. + +He ascended again, a long, steady climb. + +“We’re near the surface of the ground,” said Arthur. + +Ahead of them the star lamp of Gilder showed. He was coming back to +meet them. + +“This passage ends in a sort of maze,” he reported. “There is a side +passage, but that’s entirely blocked by stone.” + +They went back with him to the place and Arthur Gwyn examined the +débris. + +“The roof has fallen in here,” he said. “How long ago, it is +impossible to tell. This stone is old, but I should think that the +fall has been going on for years.” + +They returned dispirited, and accompanied Gilder on his exploration of +the maze. Though they tried passage after passage, they invariably +found themselves back at the place where they had started. Dick made +another inspection of the fallen roof. It had collapsed a few feet +from the entrance; and, though he did not know this, there was twenty +yards of crumbled rock between him and the little chamber where Leslie +Gwyn was waiting for death. + +Dick came out into the light of the setting sun, his haggard face +white with dust. Arthur sat on a stone, his head in his hands, the +picture of despair. Even Gilder was shaken from his habitual calm, +could do no more than stare tragically at the ruin which hid so much. +The broken arch of the window, red in the light of the setting sun, +was more than ever like a query mark. There was something devilish +about it, something which epitomized the spirit that leered and mocked +at them. + +“Come back to the house,” said Dick steadily, and, to the bailiff who +approached him: “No, I sha’n’t want the dynamite--yet.” + +They walked dispiritedly along the mound, Arthur Gwyn, the most +dejected of all, walking in the rear. Suddenly they heard him shout, +and turned. He was pointing across the river. + +“What is it?” asked Dick, hurrying back to him. + +“The wishing well--have you thought of that?” gasped Arthur. + +“The wishing well?” + +And then Dick remembered that rendezvous of the country swains, the +unfathomable crevice in the earth down which, as a boy, he had dropped +stones, listening to hear them strike from rock to rock until they +grew fainter. + +“That reaches somewhere,” said Arthur excitedly. “We can but try it.” + +Dick ran down to the bank, plunged into the water and waded through to +the other side. The two men followed him, and something whispered in +Dick Alford’s heart that this was his last hope. + + + + + LXII + +“What time is it?” asked Harry. + +He had not spoken for two hours, but had sat, clasping his knees, his +head thrust forward, engaged with his wild thoughts. + +“Lend me the lantern.” + +She passed the lamp back to him. + +“A quarter to seven,” she said. “Harry, I feel so hungry.” + +“Do you?” he asked in surprise. “I don’t feel hungry, I feel--I don’t +know.” + +Presently he spoke again. + +“How did we get here?” he asked. “I know the roof fell in, but how did +we come into this beastly place?” + +“You’ve been very ill,” she said gently. “You came here whilst you +were sick.” + +“Did I really?” He seemed amazed at her reply and did not speak again +for fully five minutes. “I seem to remember now that I have been ill. +I sleep so badly and have such horrible dreams. Poor old Dick was +always ragging me about my patent medicines… queer bird, old Dick, but +one of the very best.” + +He spoke so heartily, with such enthusiasm, that her heart ached for +some unknown reason. + +“We shall have to get out of here,” he said. + +She did not answer him. + +For the tenth time he turned on the light of his lamp and examined the +roof. + +“It is vaulted,” he muttered. “I hope nothing happens here.” + +She felt him shivering. + +“Nothing is going to happen, Harry,” she said soothingly. “We’re going +to get out and we’re going to have a big dinner to celebrate our +rescue.” + +He chuckled softly. + +“We shall never get out of here,” he said cheerfully. “This is the end +of the House of Chelford.” He thought a while. “By Jove, no! Of +course, Dick will inherit the estate. Isn’t it queer, Leslie, that he +never wanted me to marry? That’s the only thing about Dick I cannot +understand, because he’s not a jealous man or an envious man, but a +good, big-hearted fellow--and yet he didn’t want me to marry. Doesn’t +that seem strange to you?” + +“I don’t think you’re right, Harry,” she temporized. “Only he didn’t +want you to marry the wrong woman.” + +“But he didn’t want me to marry you,” said Harry in a tone of +indignation. “And if there’s a better girl in the world than you, I’d +like to find her! Of course, I’m a terrible slacker, but…” + +“Hullo!” + +The booming voice seemed to come from somebody in the chamber. She +felt him start, and again his frail body quavered in a fit of +trembling. + +“What was that?” he asked huskily. + +“Hullo!” + +The voice came again. She seized the lamp from his hand, ran out of +the cavern to the place where she had seen daylight. + +“Is that you, Dick?” she called at the top of her voice, and heard a +husky “Thank God!” + +And then from the Cold Room came a burst of demoniacal laughter. There +was yet the gravest danger of all to overcome. She was alone with a +madman! + + + + + LXIII + +She could see no daylight, and thought that night must have fallen, +until a patch of golden red appeared high above her. + +“Is Harry with you?” + +“Yes,” she replied. “One moment.” + +She went back to find him cowering against the wall, and gripped him +by the shoulders. + +“Harry,” she said pleadingly, “they have found us!” + +He scowled up at her. + +“Who have found us?” + +“Dick--everybody. We sha’n’t have long to wait now.” + +He licked his lips. + +“Dick and everybody,” he said dully. “That is strange… found us!” + +She flew back to the little shaft. + +“Are you hungry?” boomed the voice. + +“Very,” she answered. “But that doesn’t matter--I can live without +food for another twelve hours. We’re in a sort of underground room. +The roof of the passage has fallen in.” + +“How long is the passage?” asked Dick quickly. + +She thought a moment. + +“About forty yards, I think. It cannot be much less.” + +“How far from your end is it blocked?” and when she told him, she +heard him groan. + +“Leslie.” + +“Yes?” + +“I’m sending something down to you at the end of a string. It is a +pocket compass. Will you tell me exactly the bearings?” + +It reached her at last, battered, its glass broken. She put the little +instrument on the floor. + +“Put it where I can see it,” he said. “Have you a light?” + +She flashed the lamp upon it. + +“Where is the north? Just touch the place with your finger. Wait, I +will send for field glasses.” + +Ten minutes passed, and then he said again: + +“Now show me.” And when she had indicated the north, he asked her +where the cavern was. + +“Exactly west,” she said with tremulous triumph. “Will it be a long +time before you reach us?” + +He made no answer to this. + +“Tell me how many paces you are from the compass,” and when she had +paced it off and had told him, he groaned. + +By this time the consulting engineer to whom he had telephoned in the +afternoon was on the spot. + +“The cavern is exactly under the bed of the river,” said that +official. + +“Could we enlarge this hole?” asked Dick. + +The surveyor shook his head. + +“Impossible. It would take you the best part of a month to blast a way +down. There’s a long fault in the rock here which accounts for the +river’s course,” he added. “Both banks are solid; I can assure you on +that point, because my predecessor bored for water for your respected +father.” + +Dick groaned. He could keep the girl alive for a month, but the strain +of it would kill her. Then there flashed simultaneously to two minds a +solution. + +“Why not break the dam of the Ravensrill?” he said, and Puttler, who +had the words on his lips, nodded. + +“That’s the idea,” he said. “Undo the work of your ancestor! Turn the +course of the river to the Long Meadow--there’s a natural bed for it!” + +Ten minutes later the telephone at Fossaway Manor was busy, and here +Mary Wenner was a heaven-sent helper. Every great contractor within +twenty miles had his instructions, and within an hour charabancs, +motor-cars, omnibuses, crowded with horny-handed workmen, were +lumbering up the drive. Car succeeded car, and disgorged the +fustian-clad navvies. They had been taken from alehouses, from their +homes, from workmen’s clubs, drawn even from the cinemas of distant +Brighton, and every hour the number swelled, until there were a +thousand men working by the light of naphtha flames on the great dump +behind Fossaway Manor. + +At ten o’clock the omnibuses and lorries were still rolling up the +drive; trolleys laden with wheelbarrows and tools were being rapidly +unloaded at the side of the dump. All southern Sussex worked to cut +the dam of the Ravensrill, and the big dump grew smaller and smaller. +Presently, as the water rose, it spilled into the bed that it had left +for hundreds of years and flowed its irregular course, sweeping aside +barns that had been hastily evacuated, lapping the walls of one +cottage, the inhabitants of which had been removed in time. Little by +little the water in the old bed sank and sank until it was a dark mass +of weeds and silvery shapes that leapt up and down _in extremis_. +Water voles, trout, pike were shovelled to the bank, and the bed of +the river attacked by men who worked at fever pace, being relieved +every half hour. + +“If there is rock there,” said the surveyor, “we are dished. My own +belief is that there’s nothing but sand.” + +“And shingle?” suggested Puttler. + +“No, sir, there’s no shingle. It is a curious fact that we’ve never +found shingle in the Ravensrill. They’ve struck the sand now,” he +said, looking down into the hole, which the men were shoring with logs +of timber. “And I’m glad there is no shingle--sand is much easier to +work.” + +He had hardly spoken the words before the foreman shouted: + +“We’ve struck shingle here, governor!” + +“Shingle?” The surveyor went down the ladder into the hole. + +“It is only a layer,” he said when he came back, “but even that is +rather surprising. It opens up all sorts of possibilities.” + +Dick did not listen. The value of shingle to a county surveyor was of +no more interest to him than the value of sand to a grocer. + +The work was now heavier. A derrick and windlass had to be rigged to +move the heavy loads from the cutting, and that took a considerable +time, during which he paid frequent visits to the “wishing well.” + +It was after the shingle had been discovered that Harry’s voice +answered him. + +“Is that you, Dick? What are you fellows doing up there?” + +The voice held all the old irritation and fretfulness. Briefly Dick +described what was happening. + +“Couldn’t you send me something down so that I could work below?” +asked Harry. “I’m perfectly sure I could make it much easier for you.” + +To humour him, Dick Alford found a light crowbar and with great +difficulty lowered it. Because of its shape and size, the operation +was a painfully slow one, and Harry fretted and fumed below. + +“Hurry, for heaven’s sake!” he shouted. “You don’t suppose I want to +stay down here, do you? I’ve a tremendous lot of work to do--you know +that, Dick, very well.” + +Dick did not answer, but his anxiety increased. He knew Harry and his +symptoms all too well to be under any illusion as to what would follow +if his irritation grew beyond the power of restraint, and it was with +a sigh of thankfulness that he felt the crowbar caught in the eager +hands of his brother. + +“Be very careful how you use this,” he called. “The men are working +from above and you may have a fall unless you take the greatest care.” + +But he was talking to the air. Harry had gone and it was Leslie who +answered him. + +“How long will you be, Dick?” she asked. + +“I don’t know, my dear. A few hours, not longer. Are you all right?” + +A little hesitation. + +“Yes, I’m all right.” + +“Is Harry?” + +A longer pause. + +“I think so. Is it possible to send something down that he could +take?” + +Earlier in the evening Dick had tried to pass the end of a thin rubber +tube to the imprisoned pair, but the attempt had been futile. + +“I’ll try,” he said, and went in search of one of the two doctors who +had been summoned. + +From him he obtained two small brown pellets, and these, wrapped in +paper and weighted, were dropped into the wishing well. + +“Thank you,” said her low voice. “I don’t know how I can use them, and +for the moment he is very busy.” + + + + + LXIV + +There was no question as to Harry’s activity. He had rolled a heavy +boulder from the débris in the passage and, placing it in the centre +of the floor, he could reach the stone roof, which was in six +petal-shaped sectors. The lens of his lamp had been removed so that +the light was diffused, and she had a better view of the room. + +There were little holes at intervals that looked as if they had once +held hat-pegs, though why anybody should come into these depths to +hang up his hat, she could not imagine. And then the real value of +this peculiar chamber occurred to her. She found against the wall a +long, rusty hook, so thin that she could break it. This had been the +meat storeroom of the Abbey, the mediæval equivalent to a +refrigerator. The atmosphere was deathly cold. It seemed a very long +way from the Abbey, but in reality it was not more than a hundred and +fifty yards. The old monks had found this cavern, had dressed and +strengthened it, had lined and converted it to their own use. That +explained why this chamber, so far distant from the main building, had +received the ancient architects’ attention. + +Harry was in his shirt sleeves, which were rolled up, revealing his +thin but sinewy arms. He had managed to get the claw of the crowbar +between two of the stones, and was working at them gradually, talking +the while to himself in an undertone. Her anxiety increased. The +paroxysm, when it came, would be short, but what would be the end of +it? Her mouth went dry and she felt for the knife she had put in her +pocket and stealthily opening the blade, thrust it through the lining +to keep it in place. + +Presently Harry paused, wiped the perspiration from his forehead with +his arm, and looked down at her. His horn-rimmed spectacles had +slipped down his nose and he stopped to adjust them. + +“Dick has no intention whatever of rescuing us. I think that you ought +to know that.” + +“I’m sure you’re mistaken, Harry,” she said. + +But opposition only made him worse and he snapped down at her. + +“You’re a fool! All women are fools! I tell you it is a plot. Dick has +no more intention of rescuing us…” + +He stopped suddenly and passed his hand across his eyes. + +“I wish I had brought the picture,” he muttered, and glared at her. +“But for you I should have taken it with me, and now I’ve left it +behind for that swine to jeer at!” + +She looked up at the roof. + +“You’re doing splendidly, Harry,” and, his attention distracted, he +attacked the roof again. + +“You can trust me, Leslie,” he said. “I am the only person in the +world you can trust. You have no enemies. The Black Abbot is dead! I +killed him, and I am very proud of the fact. Every Chelford should +kill at least one Black Abbot, and I have had the approval of my +illustrious ancestor.” + +By this time the claw of the crowbar had been worked deep into the +crevice he had made, and he began to lever slowly. As she watched him +she saw the stone move. It dropped suddenly an eighth of an inch, and +he raised an excited shout. + +“You see, you see!” he said, in his shrill voice. “Dick never dreamt I +would be able to do that, or he would not have allowed me to use this +crowbar.” + +He got down from the stone, scooped up two handfuls of water from the +worn channel, and drank, dashing the remainder of the water into his +face before he leapt again on the stone and went to work with renewed +vigour. Backward and forward he levered the jemmy, and again the stone +dropped, until it was perceptibly out of place. + +“You must be careful, Harry,” she warned him. “That may come down with +a rush and hurt you.” + +He was sensible enough to see this, changed the position of the stone, +and worked from the other angle. And then, without warning, all that +she had predicted happened. He leapt aside into the open doorway as +with a crash the sector fell and broke into fragments on the stone +pavement. + +“You see, you see!” he screamed. “I’ve done it!” + +A steady shower of shingle was falling. He struck upward with the +point of his crowbar and the shower increased until it made a heap on +the ground. + +And then he saw the edge of a box. + +“Look, look, look!” + +His trembling hands could scarcely hold the tool. With the energy of +dementia he dug away at the shingle beneath it, and presently, +gripping it by the edge, he pulled it clear. It was a tiny chest, a +miniature of those she had seen at Fossaway Manor, six inches in +length, four inches broad and as deep. With his crowbar he pried open +the lid and the rusted iron hasp parted with a snap. Inside was what +appeared to be a bundle of discoloured cloth. He lifted it out. + +“There’s something heavy here,” he said hoarsely, and his hands shook +so, that in pity she came forward and helped unwrap the thing that the +box held. Presently it came to light: a long flask containing a +colourless fluid. The bottle was heavily sealed at the top. + +He snatched it from her hand; a frenzied gleam in the staring eyes. + +“The elixir!” he croaked. “The Life Water! Oh, God be thanked!” + +She tried to take it from him, but he snarled round on her like an +angry dog. + +“You devil!” he screamed. “You’re in league with Dick! You’re trying +to rob me of life! But you sha’n’t, you sha’n’t!” + +The flask was corked with a piece of wood that had swollen. He dragged +at it with his teeth and presently extracted the stopper. + +“I shall live eternally! But you shall die! He shall find you here +dead, and realize…” + +He put the flask to his lips and drank. She covered her eyes with her +hands, then, as he moved, gripped the knife. + +And then she heard something drop with a heavy crash to the floor and +looked. The shingle was still sliding down like sand in an hourglass, +but now something big and heavy thudded to the ground. It looked +ludicrously like a yellow candle, but its weight was such that the +first bar struck the pavement and the impact bent it hook-shape. +Another followed. She watched, fascinated, as they came, first slowly, +then in a stream, from the triangular space in the roof--scores, +hundreds of yellow candles thundering down in twos and threes amidst +the flow of shingle. + +“The gold, the gold!” screamed Harry. “But he shall never have it!” + +He lifted the lamp, but as his arm rose she stooped swiftly. The crash +of the lamp as it struck the wall came to her and she crouched back +toward the wishing well. She heard a loud crash in the chamber; a +sector of the roof had given under the strain, and now, with a hiss +and a rush, shingle and ingot were falling until they almost filled +the room. They flowed about her feet like a heavy stream. She +struggled to get it underfoot and became more and more engulfed. + +“Dick, Dick!” she screamed, but he did not hear her. + +He had reached the broken roof of the Cold Room and was slipping and +sliding down the heap of shingle under which lay a man who was dead +before the torrent of stone was loosened. Later they found him, +gripping a crystal flask in his hand. What it had contained, no man +ever knew. + + + + + LXV + +When Leslie Gwyn woke, the sunlight was peeping round the edges of +the drawn blinds. She sat up suddenly and her head went round and +round. And then she remembered and her eyes closed, as if to shut out +some horrible sight. + +“Oh, you _are_ awake?” said Mary Wenner, bustling in. “Dick sent me up +to see how you were. Everybody’s most fearfully anxious about +you--even Fabe, though I’m not of a jealous disposition, as everybody +knows.” + +“What is the time?” + +Then, with a shiver, she remembered that somebody else had asked her +that. How long ago? An eternity! + +“Twelve thirty-five,” said Miss Wenner, consulting her watch. “I’ve +been out looking at the workmen. Really, my dear, it’s more like a +Desirable Residential Estate than the grounds of Fossaway Manor. +Wheelbarrows and navvies and goodness knows what! They say it’s cost +his lordship twenty thousand pounds.” + +Leslie looked at her in wonder. + +“His lordship?” she said in a hushed voice. + +“I mean Dick,” said the calm Miss Wenner. “The King is dead, long live +the King! That’s my motto every time.” And then, in a more sober tone; +and rather ashamed of herself for her heartlessness: “Poor boy! It was +a mercy for him. Fabe’s gone back to London.” + +“Who is Fabe? Oh, Mr. Gilder!” said the girl, smiling faintly. + +Miss Wenner dropped her eyes modestly. + +“We are engaged. It was all his idea, because, as you know, Leslie +darling, I’m not the sort of girl to throw herself at any man’s head. +But he’s persuaded me.” She sighed heavily. “I suppose I’d better. I’m +getting on in years, and a girl can’t always be pretty.” + +Leslie brought her feet to the floor and stood up. She was still a +little unsteady and the pain in her feet was atrocious, in spite of +the dressing that the doctor had applied. + +“I must say that Arthur took it very well,” said Miss Wenner as she +assisted the girl to dress. “It was naturally a great blow to him.” + +“What was?” Leslie was a little dazed. + +“My engagement,” said Mary. “You didn’t know----” she sighed. “Arthur +was very fond of me, I’ll admit it. But in the circumstances I don’t +think it would be nice to marry a gentleman who’s bad friends with my +fiancé, do you, Leslie?” + +“I had no idea that there was anything between Arthur and you,” said +Leslie truthfully. + +Again Miss Wenner sighed. + +“Very few people knew anything about it. Perhaps it is all for the +best. Arthur thinks so. It isn’t as though I’d thrown myself at him, +so there’s no harm done one way or the other.” + +Leslie was wearing a pair of man’s slippers when she came down the +broad stairs. Dick’s study door was open and she saw him sitting in a +deep cane chair on the lawn outside, a pipe between his teeth, a heap +of documents on his knees which he was examining slowly one by one. He +looked round, rising from his chair at the sound of her voice. She saw +his face and was shocked. + +“Dick, you look a hundred years old!” + +“I feel a thousand,” he said, and guided her to the chair. “Sit down. +Well, that’s the end, Leslie--and the beginning.” + +She nodded. + +“I think we’ve managed to keep the ugliest part of it out of the +newspapers. Poor old Harry!” There were tears in his eyes which he did +not attempt to hide. “Poor old victim!” + +“Victim of what?” + +“Of his mother,” said Dick. “There never was a time when she was sane. +My poor father did not discover this until after the child was born, +and her death removed one of the greatest sorrows from his life. The +other was--Harry! Well, now you know the secrets of us all, what do +you think, Leslie?” + +“Who was the Black Abbot?” she asked, and then, to her amazement: + +“I was,” he replied quietly, and told her all he had told the high +official from Scotland Yard. + +“The queer thing was that he must have seen the gold before he died. +What fools we were! The Diary told us as plainly as anything could +that the old Lord Chelford who hid his treasure chose the bed of the +river. It was a year of drought, the river was quite dry, and probably +he found a deep hole in its bed, hid the gold and covered it with +shingle that would not wash away.” + +“You are very rich now, Dick?” + +He nodded slowly. + +“Yes--I suppose I am. There are a few minor trials and troubles for +us, Leslie dear,” he said, “but when those are all over and everything +is settled we will go abroad for a year and forget all about these +ghastly days and nights.” + +She took his hand between her two palms. + + FINIS + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + +Minor spelling inconsistencies (_e.g._ frock-coat/frock coat, +paving-stone/paving stone, shirt-sleeves/shirt sleeves, etc.) have +been preserved. + +Alterations to the text: + +Abandon the use of drop-caps. + +Adjust the chapter numbering (the source text had two chapter XLIs). + +Add ToC. + +Punctuation: fix some missing periods and quotation mark pairings. + +[Chapter I] + +Change “such _aws_ the gloom in the library” to _was_. + +[Chapter XIII] + +“he said, and his voice was _kusky_ with emotion” to _husky_. + +[Chapter XX] + +“then went _downstars_ to his own room” to _downstairs_. + +[Chapter XXI] + +“moved stealthily toward the bed, _feeeling_ for the brass rail” to +_feeling_. + +[Chapter XXIV] + +(“Do you know that _Robison_ Crusoe was a German?”) to _Robinson_. + +[Chapter LVI] + +“and _occasionlly_ as prospective buyers of our property” to +_occasionally_. + +[Chapter LXIV] + +“Her mouth went _dray nd_ she felt for the knife she” to _dry and_. + +[End of text] + + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75643 *** diff --git a/75643-h/75643-h.htm b/75643-h/75643-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5c8bcd4 --- /dev/null +++ b/75643-h/75643-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,19451 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The black abbot | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:4em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + .nobreak {page-break-before:avoid;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + .spacer {margin:0.5em 0em 0.5em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + + .toc_l {margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .rt1 {margin:0em 1em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} + + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + .font80 {font-size:80%;} + +/* special formatting */ + + blockquote {margin:1em 1em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt4 {margin-top:4em;} + +</style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75643 ***</div> + +<h1> +THE<br> +BLACK<br> +ABBOT +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +<span class="font80">BY</span><br> +EDGAR WALLACE +</p> + +<p class="center mt4"> +DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & COMPANY, INC.<br> +GARDEN CITY—NEW YORK—1928 +</p> + + +<h2> +[COPYRIGHT] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1926, 1927, BY EDGAR<br> +WALLACE. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.<br> +</p> + + +<h2> +CONTENTS +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch01">Chapter I</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch02">Chapter II</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch03">Chapter III</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch04">Chapter IV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch05">Chapter V</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch06">Chapter VI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch07">Chapter VII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch08">Chapter VIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch09">Chapter IX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch10">Chapter X</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch11">Chapter XI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch12">Chapter XII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch13">Chapter XIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch14">Chapter XIV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch15">Chapter XV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch16">Chapter XVI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch17">Chapter XVII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch18">Chapter XVIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch19">Chapter XIX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch20">Chapter XX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch21">Chapter XXI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch22">Chapter XXII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch23">Chapter XXIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch24">Chapter XXIV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch25">Chapter XXV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch26">Chapter XXVI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch27">Chapter XXVII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch28">Chapter XXVIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch29">Chapter XXIX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch30">Chapter XXX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch31">Chapter XXXI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch32">Chapter XXXII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch33">Chapter XXXIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch34">Chapter XXXIV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch35">Chapter XXXV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch36">Chapter XXXVI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch37">Chapter XXXVII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch38">Chapter XXXVIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch39">Chapter XXXIX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch40">Chapter XL</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch41">Chapter XLI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch42">Chapter XLII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch43">Chapter XLIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch44">Chapter XLIV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch45">Chapter XLV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch46">Chapter XLVI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch47">Chapter XLVII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch48">Chapter XLVIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch49">Chapter XLIX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch50">Chapter L</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch51">Chapter LI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch52">Chapter LII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch53">Chapter LIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch54">Chapter LIV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch55">Chapter LV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch56">Chapter LVI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch57">Chapter LVII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch58">Chapter LVIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch59">Chapter LIX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch60">Chapter LX</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch61">Chapter LXI</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch62">Chapter LXII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch63">Chapter LXIII</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch64">Chapter LXIV</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch65">Chapter LXV</a> +</p> + + +<h2> +THE BLACK ABBOT +</h2> + +<h3 class="nobreak" id="ch01"> +I +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Thomas</span>!” … “Yes, m’lord.” +</p> + +<p> +Thomas the footman waited, a look of concentrated interest on his +unprepossessing face, whilst the pale man behind the big library desk +sorted out a small pile of treasury notes. The battered steel box from +which they were taken was full to the brim with bank and treasury +notes of all denominations in hopeless confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas!” absently. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, m’lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Put this money in that envelope—not that one, you fool, the gray +one. Is it addressed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, m’lord. ‘Herr Lubitz, Frankfurterstrasse 35, Leipsic,’ m’lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lick it down, take it to the post office and register it. Is Mr. +Richard in his study?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, m’lord, he went out an hour ago.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry Alford, eighteenth Earl of Chelford, sighed. He was on the right +side of thirty, thin of face and pale as students are, his jet-black +hair emphasizing the pallor of his skin. The library in which he +worked was a high-roofed building, the walls bisected by a gallery +that ran round three sides of the room and was reached by a circular +iron staircase in one corner of the apartment. From the roof to the +floor every inch of wall space was covered with bookshelves with this +notable exception. Over the great stone fireplace was a full-length +painting of a beautiful woman. None who had seen his lordship could +make any mistake as to the relationship which existed between himself +and that wild-eyed beauty. It was his mother; she had the same +delicate features, the same raven hair and dark, fathomless eyes. Lady +Chelford had been the most famous débutante of her time, and her +tragic end had been the sensation of the early ’nineties. There was no +other picture in the room. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes strayed to the portrait now. To Harry Alford, Fossaway Manor, +for all its beauty and charm, was a poor casket for such a jewel. +</p> + +<p> +The footman in his sober black livery, his hair powdered white, +lingered. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that all, m’lord?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is all,” said his lordship gravely. Yet when the man had moved +noiselessly to the door— +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, m’lord.” +</p> + +<p> +“I heard something by accident as you passed my window this morning +with Filling the groom—er——?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was telling me about the Black Abbot, m’lord.” +</p> + +<p> +The pale face twitched spasmodically. Even in broad daylight, with the +sun streaming through the stained windows and marking the parquet with +arabesques of crimson and blue and amethyst, the very mention of the +Black Abbot set his heart beating faster. +</p> + +<p> +“Any man in my employ who discusses the Black Abbot will be instantly +dismissed. Will you tell your fellow servants that, Thomas? A ghost! +Great God! Are you all mad?” +</p> + +<p> +His face was red now, little veins swelled at his temples, and under +the stream of anger his dark eyes seemed to recede into his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a word! You understand? It is a lie! A mischievous wicked lie to +say that Fossaway is haunted! It is a trick played by some of the +louts about the place. That will do!” +</p> + +<p> +He waved the bowing man from his presence and resumed his study of the +black-lettered book that had arrived from Germany that morning. +</p> + +<p> +Once outside the library door, Thomas could afford to twist his sallow +features to a grin. Only for a second, and then he became serious +again. There must be nearly a thousand pounds in that cash box and +Thomas had once served a three-year sentence for a tenth of that sum. +Even Mr. Richard Alford, who knew most things, was unaware of this +interesting fact. +</p> + +<p> +Thomas had a letter to write, for he maintained a lucrative +correspondence with one who had an especial interest in Fossaway +Manor, but first he had to report the gist of the conversation to Mr. +Glover, the butler. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t care what his lordship says (and why he should tell a footman +and not me, I don’t know) there’s a ghost and all sorts of people have +seen it! I wouldn’t walk down Elm Drive alone at night for fifty +million pounds!” +</p> + +<p> +This portly man shook a head that the years had silvered. +</p> + +<p> +“And his lordship believes it too. I wish he was married, that’s what +I wish. He’ll be more sensible then!” +</p> + +<p> +“And we’ll get rid of Mr. Blooming Alford—eh, Mr. Glover?” +</p> + +<p> +The butler sniffed. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s them that likes him and them that don’t,” said the oracle. +“We’ve never had a cross word, Thomas—— There’s somebody at the +door.” +</p> + +<p> +Thomas hurried to the hall entrance and opened the big door. A girl +was standing under the portico. She was pretty in a bold way, red of +lips and bright of eye and dressed expensively. +</p> + +<p> +Thomas gave her a grin of recognition. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Miss Wenner—this is a bit of a surprise!” +</p> + +<p> +“Is his lordship in, Thomas?” +</p> + +<p> +The footman pursed his lips dubiously. +</p> + +<p> +“He <i>is</i> in, miss, but I’m afraid I can’t take you in to him. Don’t +blame me, miss, it’s Mr. Alford’s orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Alford!” she sneered. “Do you mean to tell me that I’ve come all +the way from London and can’t see Lord Chelford?” +</p> + +<p> +But Thomas kept his hand on the door. He liked the girl who, when she +had been his lordship’s secretary, had never given herself airs (the +unpardonable sin of the servants’ hall) and who always had a smile for +the meanest of the domestic staff. He would gladly have admitted her +and felt that his lordship would have been pleased to see her, but in +the background somewhere hovered Dick Alford, a man of curt speech, +who was not only capable of showing him the door but kicking him +through it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very sorry, miss, but orders is orders, as you know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see!” she nodded ominously. “I’m to be turned away from what might +have been my own door, Thomas.” +</p> + +<p> +He tried to look his sympathy and succeeded in assuming an expression +of imbecility. She smiled at him, shook hands with him graciously, and +turned away from the portico. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Wenner,” reported Thomas, “her that Alford fired because he +thought his lordship was getting sweet on her——” +</p> + +<p> +The library bell rang at that moment and Thomas hastened to answer the +call. “Who was that lady? I saw her through the window.” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Wenner, m’lord.” +</p> + +<p> +A cloud passed over Harry Alford’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you—ask her to come in?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, m’lord, Mr. Alford gave orders——” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course… yes. I had forgotten. Perhaps it is just as well. Thank +you.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled down the green shade over his eyes, for even in the day he +worked by artificial light, such was the gloom in the library, and +resumed his study of the book. +</p> + +<p> +Yet his mind was not wholly concentrated on the work. Once he rose and +walked up and down the library, his hands clasped before him, his chin +on his breast. He stopped before the picture of his mother, sighed, +and walked back to the writing table. There was a press paragraph +which he had cut out of a London newspaper and this he read for the +third time, not ill pleased with the unaccustomed experience of +finding himself the subject of newspaper comment, and yet irritated by +the subject on which the paragraph was based. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Chelfordbury, a sleepy Sussex village, is engaged in the thrilling +sport of ghost-hunting. The Black Abbot of Fossaway has, after a +period of quiescence, again made his appearance. The legend is that +seven hundred years ago, the Abbot of Chelfordbury was assassinated by +order of the Second Earl of Chelford. Since then, from time to time, +his “ghost” has been seen. During the past few years horrific stories +of an Unseen Being that shrieked and howled demoniacally have been +current in the county, but the noisy spook was not actually seen until +last week. +</p> + +<p> +Fossaway Manor has other romances besides ghosts. Four hundred years +ago, a great treasure of gold was, according to legend, hidden +somewhere on the estate; so effectually, in fact, that it has never +been discovered since, although successive Earls of Chelford have +searched diligently for the ancestral hoard. +</p> + +<p> +The present Earl of Chelford, who, by the way, is engaged to be +married to Miss Leslie Gwyn, the only sister of Mr. Arthur Gwyn, the +well-known solicitor, informed our local representative that he had no +doubt that the apparition of the Black Abbot was a practical joke in +very doubtful taste on the part of the foolish youth of the +neighbourhood. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +He made as though to tear the paper but thought better of it and put +the cutting under a paper weight. +</p> + +<p> +That reference to the practical jokers of the village was reassuring +and might be a comfort when the night came and he needed +encouragement. +</p> + +<p> +For Lord Chelford believed in the Black Abbot as religiously as he +proclaimed his scepticism. +</p> + +<p> +His restless hand moved to the bell-push on his table. +</p> + +<p> +“Has Mr. Richard returned?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, m’lord.” +</p> + +<p> +Lord Chelford struck the table pettishly with his palm. +</p> + +<p> +“Where on earth does he get to in the mornings?” he asked querulously. +</p> + +<p> +Thomas, very wisely, pretended not to hear. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch02"> +II +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> reapers had laid low the last of the golden heads, and the +sheaves stood like yellow tombstones on Racket Field. Beyond the field +was Chelfordbury, where the gray old spire of the church came up from +a velvety knoll of trees; beyond again, the green and white downs of +Sussex, along the foot of which the railway runs. +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford sat on a stile on the top of a little hillock and could +see across the weald for fifteen miles. He could turn his head and +take in the home farm and the green roofs and cupolas of Fossaway +Manor, with its broad lawns and its clipped yew hedges. Neither +cornfield nor down, manor house nor pleasaunce, interested him for the +moment. His eyes were fixed and his mind centred upon the girl who was +walking quickly up the winding path that would bring her presently to +where he sat. +</p> + +<p> +She was singing as she walked, the riding crop she carried whirling +round and round like a drum major’s baton. His lips twitched to the +ghost of a smile. Presently she would see him, and he wondered if she +would be annoyed. He had never seen Leslie Gwyn except in such +circumstances that her face was a pleasant mask and her manner +conventionally charming. She had been nicely brought up and taught +that all things are permissible except one: to make one’s equal feel +foolish. +</p> + +<p> +The song ceased. She had seen him, but she did not check her pace and +came quickly up the hill path, slashing at a nettle bush as she +walked. +</p> + +<p> +“Peeping Tom!” she greeted him reproachfully. +</p> + +<p> +She was not so tall as the average English girl, but her slimness gave +her height, and the supple movement of her hinted at greater strength +than her slight figure suggested. Her face, delicately modelled, had +the subtle refinement of her class. Small, beautiful hands and feet, a +head finely poised, eyes of a deep gray, and a red mouth that smiled +easily, Leslie Gwyn in rags would have been unmistakably a beautiful +lady. +</p> + +<p> +Dick had seen her riding; she gripped the withers with her knees, +jockey fashion, and was part of the horse. He had seen her on the +polished dancing floor; there was lissom grace in every line. When he +danced with her, he held in his arms a fragrant something that had +more substance and character than he had thought. The hand on his +shoulder was definitely placed, the body which his arm encircled was +firm; he could feel the tiny muscles ripple under his hand. +</p> + +<p> +She stood now, her little black riding hat askew, her figure clad in +neat black relieved by the lawn collar. Her neatly booted legs were +planted stubbornly apart, one gloved hand holding her waist, the other +swinging the crop. In her gray eyes was an imp of mischief that +gleamed and danced all the merrier for the studied solemnity of every +other feature. +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford, from his vantage place on the top rail of the stile, +chewed a blade of toddy grass between his white teeth and surveyed her +approvingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Been riding, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have been riding,” she said gravely, and added: “a horse.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked round innocently. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the favoured animal?” he demanded. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him suspiciously, but not a muscle of the tanned, lean +face so much as twitched. +</p> + +<p> +“I dismounted to pick wild flowers and the beastie ran away. You saw +him!” she accused. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw something that looked like a horse running toward Willow +House,” he confessed calmly. “I thought he had thrown you.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“For that prevarication you can go and find him—I’ll wait here,” she +said, and, when he got down from the stile with a groan: “I meant you +to do that, anyway. The moment I saw you I said to myself: ‘There’s a +lazy man who wants exercise!’ Sisters-in-law-to-be have privileges.” +</p> + +<p> +He winced a little at this. She may have noticed the cloud that came +momentarily to his face, for she put out her hand and checked him. +</p> + +<p> +“One of the grooms can find him, Dick. He is such a hungry pig that he +is certain to make for his stable… no, I <i>don’t</i> mean the groom. Sit +down; I want to talk to you.” +</p> + +<p> +She swung up to the stile and took the place he had vacated. +</p> + +<p> +“Richard Alford, I don’t think you are enjoying the prospect of my +being the mistress of Fossaway House?” +</p> + +<p> +“Manor,” he corrected. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t quibble—are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I count the days,” he said lightly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you?” +</p> + +<p> +He took a battered silver case from his hip pocket, selected a +cigarette and lit it. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Leslie——” he began, but she shook her head. She was very +serious now. +</p> + +<p> +“You think I will—interfere with things? With the management of the +estate—I know poor Harry couldn’t manage a small holding—with—oh, +with all sorts of things, but I think you are wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +He blew three smoke rings into the air before he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would manage the estate,” he said quietly. “It would be a +blessing to me. No, I’m not worried about that. With your +money—forgive the brutality—the estate will not count. A bailiff +could manage it as well as any second son!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch03"> +III +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">He spoke</span> without bitterness, without a hint of self-pity, and she +was silent. He was the child of a second marriage, and that had made +it worse for him. When old Lord Chelford followed Dick’s mother to the +grave, the second son’s portion was his. The estate, the title, the +very car he had used as his own, passed from him. A tiny estate in +Hertfordshire that brought two hundred a year, some old jewellery of +his mother’s and a thousand pounds came the way of the second son. And +the thousand pounds had never been paid. In some mysterious fashion it +had been swallowed up. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Arthur Gwyn had settled the estate. In all the circumstances Dick +felt happier when he did not think of that thousand pounds. Yet, for +some reason or other, he thought of it now, and as though she read his +thoughts dimly, and associated his reserve with her brother, she +asked: +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t like Arthur, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you say that?” he said, in genuine surprise. He had never +betrayed his aversion to the dandified lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” she nodded wisely. “He exasperates me sometimes, and I can +well imagine that a man like you would hate him.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry doesn’t hate him anyway, and he is the person who counts.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked round at him, swinging the crop idly. +</p> + +<p> +“It doesn’t seem real to me that I’m to be married at all—it was such +a funny proposal, Dick, so polite, so formal, so—unreal! I think if +it had come in any other way——” She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +Dick wondered a little drearily how his brother would propose. Harry +was something of a novice at the love game; once he had had a pretty +secretary, and on a warm June afternoon Dick had interrupted what was +tantamount to a proposal from the enterprising young lady. And the +flustered Harry would have agreed to her matrimonial suggestions, only +Dick had happened along—and the calculating Miss Wenner had left +Fossaway Manor rather hurriedly. He remembered this happening. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose if he had proposed in the conventional way you wouldn’t +have accepted him?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” she said dubiously. “But it was quaint and—queer. I +like Harry awfully. I have often wondered if he would like me if——” +She did not finish her sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“If you weren’t so horribly rich?” smiled Dick. “You’re not paying him +a very high compliment.” +</p> + +<p> +She held out her arms and he lifted her down, though there seemed no +necessity for it, as she was a very agile young person as a rule. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick,” she said, as he crossed the stile and they walked side by side +toward the main road, “what am I to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“About what?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“About Harry and everything.” +</p> + +<p> +He had no answer to this. +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur is very keen on my marrying him,” she said. “And really, I’m +not averse—at least, I don’t think so.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the worst of being a great heiress,” he bantered. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder?” Her brow wrinkled in a frown. “And am I a great heiress?” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped and looked at her in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +He seemed so shocked that she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know; my uncle left me a lot of money years and years ago. I +don’t know how much—Arthur has managed my estate for years. I have +all the money I need.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then don’t grouse!” he said crudely, and she laughed again. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose most girls in my position have their marriages arranged in +the way mine has been arranged, and until quite recently I have +accepted the idea as part of the inevitable.” +</p> + +<p> +“And why have you changed your mind now?” he asked bluntly, and saw +the pink come into her face. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know.” Her answer was very short, almost brusque. +</p> + +<p> +And then she saw the look in his eyes—the infinite yearning, the +hopelessness of them. And in a flash there came to her a knowledge of +herself. +</p> + +<p> +For some reason which she could not understand she became of a sudden +breathless, and almost found a difficulty in speaking. She felt that +the thump and thud of her heart must be audible to his ears and strove +desperately to recover her balance. Vividly before her eyes came the +picture of her fiancé, the thin, irritable young man—the weakling +with all that man needed in his hands, save manhood. A pitiable, +nerve-racked creature, now pleading, now bullying—oblivious of the +impression he made on the woman who was to share his life. And from +this mental figure of him, her eyes moved mechanically to the man by +her side; calm, serene, radiant in his strength and self-reliance. +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes later she was walking back to Willow House, and in her +heart she struggled with a problem that seemed well-nigh insoluble. +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford, making his slow progress homeward, saw the lank figure of +his brother waiting at the end of the elm drive. +</p> + +<p> +The wind flapped the skirts of his long frock coat; standing, he +stooped slightly and had a trick of thrusting forward his head, which +gave him the appearance of a big, ungainly bird. His face was dark +with anger, Dick saw, as he came up with him. +</p> + +<p> +“I deputize many duties to you, Richard, but I’ll do my own +love-making, understand that!” +</p> + +<p> +The blood came into Dick Alford’s face, but he showed no other sign of +his hurt or anger. +</p> + +<p> +“I will not have it—you understand?” Lord Chelford’s voice was shrill +with childish fury. “I will not have you interfering in my private +affairs. You sent one girl away from me, you shall not take Leslie!” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not——” began his brother hotly. +</p> + +<p> +“You are—you are! You don’t want me to marry! I am not a fool, Dick! +You stand next in the line of succession! I am going to marry Leslie +Gwyn—understand that! You shall not break that engagement.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment the brutality, the injustice of the accusation, left the +younger man white and shaking, and then, with a supreme effort, he +laughed. Scenes such as this were of almost daily occurrence, but +never before had Harry Chelford gone so far. In ten minutes the storm +would pass, and Harry would be his old lovable self, but for the +moment it was bitterly hard to bear. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say such horrible things?” he said. “I got rid of Wenner +because she was not the wife for you——” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t want me to marry! You are waiting for my shoes, a dead +man’s shoes!” almost screamed the elder son. “The last thing in the +world you want to see is a new Countess of Chelford. You know it, you +know it!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford was silent. God knew his brother spoke the truth! It would +be a woeful day for him when Harry Chelford brought a wife to this +great house to share the dreadful secret which hung like a cloud over +Fossaway Manor. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch04"> +IV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dick Alford</span> was in the little study where he usually worked, a +businesslike room filled with filing cabinets and deed boxes. The +French windows giving to the lawn were open, for though it was +September the night was warm, and he was working in his shirt-sleeves, +a pipe gripped between his teeth, his eyes protected from the overhead +light by a big green shade that he wore affixed by a band to his head. +If there was a resemblance between Lord Chelford and his mother, not +even the keenest observer could trace in Dick Alford the slightest +likeness to his half-brother. He was a creature of the open, a +six-foot athlete, broad of shoulder and slim of flank, and his tanned +face spoke of a life spent on the windy downs. His blue eyes surveyed +the footman with a quizzical smile, as he pushed his battered old +typewriter aside, relit his pipe, and stretched himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Black Abbot? Good Lord! Have you seen him, Thomas?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, I have not seen him. But Mr. Cartwright, the grocer down in +Chelford village…” +</p> + +<p> +He gave a graphic narrative of Mr. Cartwright’s horror, amazement, and +confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“They telephoned up from the Red Lion to ask if his lordship had heard +anything about it.” Even Thomas, who believed in nothing except +Thomas, shivered. “It is the first time he has been seen for years +according to all accounts, though he has been heard howling and +moaning. Nobody knows who set fire to the vicarage when the parson was +away at the seaside——” +</p> + +<p> +“That will do, Thomas. As to Cartwright, he was drunk,” said Dick +cheerily, “or else he saw a shadow.” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced out at the lawn, bathed in the blue-white rays of a full +moon. +</p> + +<p> +“You can see things in the moonlight that never were on land or sea. I +understood that his lordship said that the Black Abbot was not to be +discussed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then shut up!” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Pipe in mouth, he strolled across the hall into the dimly lit library. +</p> + +<p> +The three electroliers that hung from the roof were dark. Only the two +green-shaded reading lamps that flanked each side of the desk were +alight, and these intensified the gloom. Dick closed the door behind +him and lounged over toward the desk, pulling a chair behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Chelford frowned at the sight of his brother. +</p> + +<p> +“Really, Dick,” he said irritably, “I wish to heaven you wouldn’t loaf +about the place in shirt and breeches. It looks fearfully bad.” +</p> + +<p> +“It feels fearfully cool,” said Dick, sitting down. “Will your nerves +sustain the smell of a bit of honest baccy?” +</p> + +<p> +Lord Chelford moved uncomfortably in his chair. Then, reaching out his +hand, he snicked open a gold box and took out a cigarette. +</p> + +<p> +“My pipe against your stinkers for a hundred pounds!” said Dick, with +a cheery smile. “Cigarettes I can stand, but scented cigarettes——” +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t like them, Dick, you can go out,” grumbled his lordship +fretfully. And then in his abrupt way: “Did you see this newspaper +cutting?” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled the paper from under the crystal weight and Dick skimmed the +lines. +</p> + +<p> +“We are getting into the public eye, Harry,” he said, “but there is +nothing about me—which is unkind.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be stupid. How did that get into the papers?” +</p> + +<p> +“How does anything get into the papers?” asked Dick lazily. “Our spook +is almost as useful as a press agent.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry snapped round on him. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you take this seriously? Don’t you see that it is worrying me +to death? You know the state of my nerves—you have no sympathy, Dick, +you’re just as hard as rock! Everybody seems to hate the sight of +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick pulled at his pipe glumly. +</p> + +<p> +“That is my unfortunate character. I am afraid I am getting efficient. +That is the only way I can account for my unpopularity. It keeps me +awake at nights——” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t fool, for heaven’s sake!” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m serious now,” murmured Dick, closing his eyes: “try me with a +hymn!” +</p> + +<p> +Harry Chelford turned away with a gesture of utter weariness, fingered +the manuscript at his hand, and gazed from his brother to the door. It +was a gesture of dismissal and Dick rose. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think you’ve done enough work for to-night, Harry?” he +asked gently. “You look absolutely all in.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never felt better in my life,” said the other emphatically. +</p> + +<p> +Dick slewed round his head to read the printed page from which his +elder brother had been copying, and saw at once that his effort was in +vain; the book was written in Old German, and Dick’s linguistic +abilities ended at a mastery of restaurant French. Lord Chelford put +down the book with a sigh and sat back in his padded chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you think I’m a fool wasting my time on this”—he raised +his hand toward the serried shelves—“when I could be having a very +amusing time with Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think you might be more profitably employed out of doors. +Really, for a bridegroom-to-be, you’re the worst slacker I’ve ever +struck.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a superiority in Harry Chelford’s smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Happily, Leslie knows she is marrying a bookworm and not an athlete,” +he said, and, rising, walked over to where Dick was sitting and +dropped his hand on his shoulder. “What would you say if I told you +that I was halfway to discovering the real Chelford Treasure?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick knew exactly what he would say, but replied diplomatically: +</p> + +<p> +“I should say you were three parts on the way to discovering the +philosopher’s stone,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +But his brother was serious. He paced up and down the long library, +his hands behind him, his chin on his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“I expected you to say that,” he said. “I should have been rather +surprised if you hadn’t. But the Chelford Treasure has an existence, +Dick, and somewhere with it is the greatest treasure of all!” +</p> + +<p> +His brother listened patiently. He knew by heart the story of the +thousand bars of pure gold, each bar weighing thirty-five pounds. The +legend of the Chelford treasure was inseparable from the Chelford +estate. +</p> + +<p> +Harry walked quickly to his desk, pulled open a drawer and took out a +small vellum-covered book. The pages were yellow with age and covered +with writing that had faded to a pale green. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen,” he said, and began reading: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“On the fifteenth of the month, the same being the feast day of St. +James, came Sir Walter Hythe, Kt., from his cruise in the Spanish +seas, for the cost of which I raised first three thousand eight +hundred pounds and eight thousand pounds from Bellitti the Lombard, +and Sir Walter Hythe brought with him on ten wagons one thousand +ingots of gold each of thirty-five pounds weight which he had taken +from the two Spanish ships <i>Esperanza</i> and <i>Escurial</i>, and these +ingots he shall put away in the safe place if yet the weather be dry +and the drought continue, though rain is near at hand, to judge by the +portents, deeming it wise not to inform my lord Burleigh of the gold +because of the Queen’s Majesty and her covetousness. Also he brought +the crystal flask of Life Water which was given to Don Cortés by the +priest of the Aztec people, a drop of which upon the tongue will +revive even the dead, this being sworn to by Fra Pedro of Sevilla. +This I shall hide with great care in the secret place where the gold +will be stored. To Sir Walter Hythe, Kt., I had given permission that +he keep for himself one hundred bars of like weight and this he did, +thanking me civilly, and sailed off from Chichester in his ship the +<i>Good Father</i> which ship was wrecked on the Kentish coast, Sir Walter +Hythe, his shipmaster, and all his company perishing. Such was his +terrible misfortune. As for myself, being in some danger because of +the part I have taken in promoting the welfare of my true sovereign +lady, Mary——” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Lord Chelford looked up and met the steady eyes of his brother. +</p> + +<p> +“The writing ends there,” he said. “I am certain that he was not +interrupted by the arrival of Elizabeth’s soldiers to arrest him for +his share in the conspiracy to put Mary on the throne. He must have +had time to secrete the treasure. Where is the crystal flask?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where rather is the gold?” asked the practical Dick. “If I know +anything about Queen Elizabeth, she bagged it! Nobody ever found +it—for four hundred years our respected forefathers have been +searching for this gold——” +</p> + +<p> +Lord Chelford made an angry gesture. +</p> + +<p> +“Gold—gold—gold! You think of nothing else! Curse the gold! Find it +and keep it. It is the flask I want!” His voice sank to a whisper, his +face had grown suddenly moist. “Dick, I’m afraid of death. God! You +don’t know how afraid! The fear of it haunts me day and night—I sit +here counting the hours, wondering at which my spirit will go from me! +You’ll laugh—at that—laugh, laugh!” +</p> + +<p> +But Dick Alford’s face was set, unsmiling. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not laugh—but can’t you see, Harry, that such a thing as an +elixir of life is preposterous?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” Lord Chelford’s eyes were shining. “Why shouldn’t this +discovery have been made by the ancient civilizations? Why is it more +wonderful than wireless telegraphy or the disintegration of atoms? +Thirty years ago flying was regarded as a miracle. The flask—I want +the flask of Life Water! The gold—throw it into the road—let the +poor devils take it who want it. I want life—do you understand?—life +and the end of fear.” +</p> + +<p> +He dropped heavily into his chair and wiped his streaming forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“The end of fear!” he muttered. +</p> + +<p> +Dick listened, his eyes never leaving his brother’s face. And this was +to be Leslie Gwyn’s husband. He shivered at the thought. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch05"> +V +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">If the</span> Honourable Richard Fallington Alford had been regarded by the +compilers of such volumes as being sufficiently important to have his +biography enshrined in a popular work of reference, his life’s work, +his hobby, and his recreation would be described as “looking after the +Chelford estates.” His bailiffs said he knew every blade of grass; the +tenant farmers swore he could price a standing crop to the last penny +of its worth. He knew Fossaway Manor, its strength and weakness, +better than the estate architect—could point out where the +foundations were scamped by the Elizabethan builders. He could trace +the walls of the old castle which Richard of York had burnt and razed, +beheading the fourth earl for his treachery under the great archway, +one crumbling pier of which still showed its gray and battered head +above the roses that now surrounded it. He gave to the broad lands of +Chelford a loyal and passionate devotion which any mistress might +envy. +</p> + +<p> +In the chill of an autumnal morning, when mist blanketed the hollows +and a pale sun was struggling through thin clouds, he strolled across +the park toward the Abbey ruins. There was little of them left. A +truncated tower wrecked by lightning; a high, arched space where an +oriel window had once flamed; mounds of scattered stones left where +Cromwell’s soldiers had overturned them; and, under the carpet of +grass, a “feel” of solid pavement. +</p> + +<p> +He drew at his pipe as he stepped out, and the tobacco smelt sweet and +wholesome in the cold air. +</p> + +<p> +He was on his way to the home farm, and his errand was a prosaic one. +A cow had died in the night, and his cowman had reported symptoms of +cattle fever. +</p> + +<p> +The familiar ruins showed up ahead, the half arch, like a huge +question mark, arrested his eye and raised again the well-argued +problem of restoration. Some day, when the Chelford ship came home, +when that coal vein was proved, or when Harry had a rich wife.… +</p> + +<p> +This was an unpleasant thought. His lips curled in a grimace of +distaste. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +A figure was walking amongst the ruins—a woman. Her back was toward +him and she was obviously unaware of his presence. Something about her +figure seemed familiar—Dick turned from the path and walked toward +her. +</p> + +<p> +Evidently she did not hear him, for when he spoke she started, uttered +a little scream, and turned a frightened face to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Miss Wenner,” he said politely. “You are up and about +very early.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no need for him to wonder whether this girl had ever +forgiven him for the very painful interview that had preceded her +retirement. Recognizing him, her eyes blazed with hate. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Mr. Alford.” She was civil enough. “I’m staying in the +village and I thought I would like to come up and see the old place.” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“You had a similar thought yesterday,” he said, “and tried to see my +brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well?” defiantly. +</p> + +<p> +“I gave you to understand, Miss Wenner, that we should all be much +happier if you never again passed the lodge gates,” he said quietly. +“I hate saying this to any woman, but you ought to be the first to +recognize how very uncomfortable you make me feel. I thought you would +apprehend this.” +</p> + +<p> +“Apprehend” was a stilted word, but he could think of no other. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” The colour had deepened in her face. “Is—that—so!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so,” he nodded. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him for a while and her lips curved. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry I’ve annoyed the family chaperon,” she sneered. +</p> + +<p> +He could admire, in a detached way, her wholesome good looks; could +even admire her courage. Her wrathful eyes were fixed on his, the +break in her voice betrayed the fury she strove to conceal. As for +Dick Alford, he felt a brute. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m extremely sorry if you don’t like my calling,” she said, her +voice razor-sharp and tremulous, “but I think the least Lord Chelford +could have done was to see me, considering I’ve worked for him for +three years and after all that has passed between us——” +</p> + +<p> +“The only thing that passed between you, Miss Wenner, was your weekly +wages,” said Dick, with maddening calmness. +</p> + +<p> +But now he had taxed her to the limit of endurance. +</p> + +<p> +“He asked me to marry him and I <i>would</i> have married him if you hadn’t +put your spoke in!” she said shrilly. “I could get thousands and +thousands out of him for breach of promise if I wasn’t a lady! You +second sons and hangers-on poisoned his mind against me! You ought to +be downright ashamed of yourself, you good-for-nothing, penniless +pauper!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was faintly amused at the redundancy. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve wrecked and ruined my life,” the pretty virago went on, “with +your interference, and after all the work I’ve done! After all them—I +mean those hours I’ve spent with his lordship workin’ at the treasure +an’ he told me I was the most helpful secretary he’d ever had.…” +</p> + +<p> +He let her talk herself to a sobbing incoherence. +</p> + +<p> +“All this may be true,” he said soothingly, “and probably is. The +point is, your presence here is a little—indelicate.” +</p> + +<p> +Seeing her look round over her shoulder as she was talking, he had +taken a quick survey of the ruins, expecting to discover that she had +a companion. But there was nobody in sight. The ground sloped steeply +from where he stood to the little Ravensrill, the broad brook which +had for a thousand years marked the boundary of the manor. Unless +somebody was concealed behind the fallen masonry she was alone. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you want me to clear out now,” she gulped, and he inclined +his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I will walk with you to Fontwell Cutting—that is the nearest way to +the village,” he said, and she was too much occupied with her +manufactured misery to resent his offer. +</p> + +<p> +What had she been doing in the Abbey ruins so early in the morning? He +knew that it was useless to ask her. +</p> + +<p> +As they passed down the steep path to the road she spoke over her +shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t marry him for a million pounds!” she said viciously. “He +is going to marry Leslie Gwyn, isn’t he? I wish him joy!” +</p> + +<p> +“I will convey your kind message,” he said ironically, an indiscreet +rejoinder, for it roused the devil in her. +</p> + +<p> +“Mind he doesn’t lose her, that’s all!” she screamed. “I know! +Everybody knows! You want her money too—the Second Son’s in love with +her—that’s a nice lookout for Harry Chelford!” +</p> + +<p> +He sat swinging his legs over the edge of the bluff, watching her till +she was out of sight. +</p> + +<p> +Everybody knew that he loved Leslie Gwyn! And only at that moment he +knew it himself! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch06"> +VI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">In all</span> the City of London there was perhaps no office more elegant +than that in which Mr. Arthur Gwyn spent his leisurely business hours. +It was a large room, panelled in white wood, with pink-shaded wall +brackets of frosted silver. Its floor was covered with a deep rose +carpet into which the feet sank as into an old lawn; and such +furnishing as the room held was of the most costly description. +Visitors and clients who had business with this dainty lawyer were +warned not to smoke in his sacred presence. The windows were doubled +to keep out the noises of Holborn; there were exterior sun blinds to +exclude the fugitive rays of pale sunlight which occasionally bathed +the City; and long velvet curtains, in harmony with the carpet, to +shut out the horrid world that roared and palpitated outside Mr. +Gwyn’s exquisite chamber. In this room was a faint aroma of roses—he +was partial to the more expensive varieties of perfume, and had a +standing order with the best of the Grasse houses. +</p> + +<p> +He was a fair man with an unblemished skin and a small yellow +moustache; a credit to his hosier and shirtmaker. His wasp-waisted +morning coat fitted him without the suspicion of a wrinkle; his gray +waistcoat, the severe dark trousers with the thinnest of white +stripes, the patent shoes, the exact cravat, were all parts of a +sartorial symmetry. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Gwyn seldom appeared in the courts. His head clerk, a gray-haired +man of fifty, who was generally supposed by Mr. Gwyn’s brother +solicitors to be the brains of the business, prepared most of the +briefs, interviewed the majority of clients, leaving to his employer +the most important. +</p> + +<p> +On a bright morning in the early days of September, Mr. Gwyn’s big +Rolls glided noiselessly to the sidewalk, the youthful footman seated +by the side of the driver sprang out and opened the door, and Arthur +Gwyn stepped daintily forth. There was a small white rose in his +buttonhole, and the passer-by who saw him, noting the perfect shine of +his silk hat, the glitter of his patent shoes, and the ebony stick +that he carried in his gloved hand, thought he was a bridegroom +stopping on his way to church. +</p> + +<p> +He entered the tiny electric lift and was whisked up to the first +floor. A porter opened his door with a little bow and Arthur walked +in, followed by the servitor, who took his hat, gloves, and cane, and +disappeared with them to an inner room. Mr. Gwyn sat down at his desk, +glanced at the letters that had been left opened for his inspection +and pushed them aside. He pressed an onyx bell-push twice, and in a +few seconds his hard-faced managing clerk came in, carrying a wad of +papers in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Close the door, Gilder. What are these?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder threw the papers on the polished table. +</p> + +<p> +“Mostly writs,” he said curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“For me?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder nodded and Arthur Gwyn turned over the papers idly. +</p> + +<p> +“There is going to be trouble if they give judgment against you for +some of these,” said Gilder. “Up to now, I’ve managed to keep them out +of court, but there are at least three of these which must be paid. I +haven’t had a chance to speak to you since I came back from my +holidays. Did you lose much at Goodwood?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eight or nine thousand,” said Arthur Gwyn lightly. “It may have been +more or less.” +</p> + +<p> +“That means you don’t know because you haven’t paid,” said Gilder +bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +“I paid a few—the more pressing,” the other hastened to assure him. +“What are these?” +</p> + +<p> +He fingered the writs again with his beautifully manicured hand. +</p> + +<p> +“One of them is very serious indeed,” said Gilder, picking it out from +the rest. “The trustees of the Wellman estate are suing you for three +thousand pounds—the loan you had from Wellman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you fix them?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t fix trustees—you know that. This is going to look ugly if it +comes into court.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing ugly about a loan——” +</p> + +<p> +“You were Wellman’s lawyer,” interrupted Gilder. “And he was not +capable of managing his affairs. I tell you that will look ugly, and +the Law Society will be asking questions. You’ll have to raise money +to settle this case out of court.” +</p> + +<p> +“What are the others?” asked Arthur Gwyn sulkily. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s one for twelve hundred pounds, furniture supplied to Willow +House, and another from the vendor of Willow House for balance of +purchase money unpaid.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn leaned back in his chair, took out a gold toothpick and +chewed it. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the full amount?” +</p> + +<p> +“About six thousand pounds,” said Gilder, gathering up the writs. +“Can’t you raise it?” +</p> + +<p> +His employer shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“A bill?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is going to back it?” asked the lawyer, looking up. +</p> + +<p> +Gilder scratched his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“What about Lord Chelford?” he asked. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch07"> +VII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Arthur Gwyn</span> laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“And what do you imagine Chelford would say if I went to him with such +a proposal? You seem to forget, my dear fellow, that to Chelford I am +the brother of a young lady who on her twenty-fifth birthday inherits +the greater part of a million pounds. I’m not only the brother, but I +am her trustee. Besides which, I am managing his mother’s estate. What +would he think if I tried? Chelford’s a fool, but he’s not such a fool +as that, and I would remind you that all his business affairs are in +the hands of the Second Son.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean Alford—why do you call him that?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s always been known as the Second Son since he was a child,” said +the other impatiently. “He is a shrewd devil, never forget that, +Gilder. I don’t know whether or not he suspects that I’m a fake, and +that Leslie’s fortune is a myth, but there have been times when he has +asked some deucedly uncomfortable questions.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is the fortune a myth?” asked Gilder, and his companion looked at him +slyly. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to know, my friend,” he said. “We have been living on it +for eight years! The croupiers of Monte Carlo have raked into their +treasury quite a lot of it—various bookmakers I could mention have +built handsome villas out of it. A myth? It wasn’t a myth ten years +ago. It was two hundred thousand pounds short of a myth! But +to-day——” +</p> + +<p> +He spread out his hands and eyed the writs with a whimsical smile. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you expect to get from Chelford?” asked Gilder. “He has no +money.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Gwyn chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“You may be sure that before I went to the expense and trouble of +buying—or nearly buying—a house adjoining Chelford’s place, and +before I took the trouble to bring Leslie and him into touch, I took +the elementary precaution of sizing up his position. He is +comparatively poor, because that brother of his will sell none of the +estates. He has the family obsession—their motto is ‘Hold Fast.’ +Harry Chelford is realizable at a quarter of a million—apart from the +buried treasure.” +</p> + +<p> +They both laughed at this. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been lucky up to a point,” said Gilder seriously. “It was luck +to inherit his legal business——” +</p> + +<p> +A clerk came in with some letters to sign at this moment, and, after +he was gone: +</p> + +<p> +“Does your sister still think she is an heiress?” asked Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +“She has that illusion,” replied the other coolly. “Of course she +thinks so! You don’t imagine Leslie would lend herself to that kind of +ramp, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +He took a pen from the silver tray before him, dipped it into the ink, +and, drawing a sheet of paper toward him, scribbled down the figures. +</p> + +<p> +“Six thousand pounds is a lot of money,” he said. “I lost three times +that amount when Black Satin was beaten a short head in the Drayton +Handicap. The only thing to do is to rush the wedding.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about the Yorkshire property?” suggested the managing clerk. +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn made a little grimace. +</p> + +<p> +“I put a man in to buy it. I could have made twenty thousand profit on +that. There’s coal in abundance; that I have proved. But the Second +Son was on the job, damn him!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a long silence. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do?” asked Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I’m at my wits’ end.” Arthur Gwyn threw down the pen. +“The position is exquisite torture to a man of my sensibility. Can’t +you suggest anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“Give me five minutes,” said Gilder, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +As Gilder was making his way to his own office, a clerk handed him a +letter. It was addressed to him personally, in an illiterate hand. +Behind the door of his office bureau, he opened the envelope. +</p> + +<p> +The letter began without any preliminary: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +His lordship is still working on the treasure. He had an old book sent +to him from Germany last Tuesday, written by a German who was in this +country hundreds of years ago. I cannot read the title because of the +funny printing, which is like old English. His lordship has also had a +plan sent to him from a London bookseller of Fossaway Manor. His +lordship’s brother, Mr. Alford, has sold Red Farm to Mr. Leonard for +£3,500 [here Mr. Gilder smiled]. Miss Gwyn came to tea yesterday with +his lordship and Mr. Alford, and afterward Miss Gwyn and his lordship +went for a walk in the home park. There is some talk about the Black +Abbot having been seen near the old abbey. He was seen by Thomas +Elwin, the half-witted son of Elwin, his lordship’s cowman, but nobody +takes any notice of this. He has now been seen by Mr. Cartwright, the +grocer. His lordship has had an offer for his Yorkshire estate, but I +heard Mr. Alford advise him not to sell as he was sure there was coal +on it. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Gilder nodded, understanding just how his employer’s plan had fallen +through. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +… When I was taking tea into the library I heard his lordship say that +he wanted the wedding to take place in October, but Miss Gwyn said she +would like it after Christmas. His lordship said that he didn’t mind +because he was so busy. Mr. Alford said he thought that the marriage +settlement should be fixed by Sampson & Howard, who were the old Lord +Chelford’s solicitors, but his lordship said that he thought the +settlement had better be in Mr. Gwyn’s hands. I did not hear any more +because Mr. Alford told me to get out. Miss Wenner, who used to be his +lordship’s secretary, came down from London yesterday, but Mr. Alford +has given orders that she is not to be admitted. His lordship did not +see her.… +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Mr. Fabrian Gilder’s spy reported other minor matters which were less +interesting. He read the letter again, put it in his pocket, and was +busy at his desk for five minutes. +</p> + +<p> +He came back to find his employer leaning over his desk, his head +between his hands, and laid a slip of paper before him. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this?” asked Gwyn, startled. +</p> + +<p> +“A six-months’ bill for seven thousand pounds. I’ve put an extra +thousand in for luck,” said Gilder coolly. +</p> + +<p> +Gwyn read the document quickly. It was a bill, and required only his +signature and that of Harry, Earl of Chelford, to make it convertible +into solid cash. +</p> + +<p> +“I dare not do it—I simply dare not do it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why tell him it’s a bill at all?” asked Gilder. “You can get him by +himself, spin a yarn—you have a fertile imagination—but I suggest to +you that you tell him you need his signature to release some of your +sister’s property and once his name is on the back of the bill——” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn looked up sharply. Was it a coincidence that this excuse +should be suggested? There was nothing in the head clerk’s face to +suggest otherwise. +</p> + +<p> +“But when it comes due?” he asked irresolutely, as he turned the +document over and over in his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“In six months’ time he’ll be married, and if things aren’t better +with you, he’ll either have to meet the bill or hush the matter up.” +</p> + +<p> +The eyes of the two men met. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re on the edge of ruin, my young friend,” said Gilder, “and I’m +rather concerned. If you go down, my livelihood disappears.” +</p> + +<p> +How true this was, Arthur learnt one bitter day. +</p> + +<p> +“You make a deuced sight more out of it than I do,” he grumbled as he +wrote the name of a bank across the face of the bill. +</p> + +<p> +“I spend less than you, and when I get money I know how to keep it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You might even raise the sum yourself,” said his employer, with a +feeble attempt at jocularity. +</p> + +<p> +“I might,” said Gilder grimly, “but, as I said before, I know how to +take care of my own, and lending money to you is not my notion of a +good investment.” +</p> + +<p> +He had been out of the room only a few minutes when he came back, and +closing the door carefully behind him: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know a Miss Wenner?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Gwyn frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. What does she want?” +</p> + +<p> +“She says she must see you on an urgent personal matter. Is she one of +your—friends?” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“N-no—I have met her. She was Chelford’s secretary. Can’t you find +out what she wants?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve tried, but it is a matter personal to you. Do you want to see +her?—I can easily stall her.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur thought for a while. She might have something important to tell +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask her to come in,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes later Mary Wenner came into the room and greeted him +with a familiar nod. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, my dear, this is an unexpected pleasure. You are getting +prettier every time I see you.” +</p> + +<p> +She accepted the flattery as her right, and sat on the edge of his +desk. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been down to Fossaway, Arthur,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“Silly girl,” he smiled. “But I thought that affair was all over and +done with. You’ve got to be good, Mary. Chelford is going to marry my +sister.” +</p> + +<p> +“Isn’t that grand! And I’m not surprised. I saw you working when I was +at Fossaway.” +</p> + +<p> +She slipped down from the desk and dropped both her hands on his +shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur, I’m tired of stenogging! And I want like sin to get back on +that cold-blooded hound Dick Alford. I’ve been fired out once for +proposing to a man—I’m going to take a second chance. We’ve been good +pals, Arthur.” +</p> + +<p> +He murmured something in his alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen—don’t turn down a good thing. You can marry me and I’ll bring +you a bigger dowry than your sister will take to Harry Chelford.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You?… Dowry?” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Marry me, and I’ll take you to the place where you can lay your hands +on fifteen tons of Spanish gold—the Chelford treasure! Two and a half +million pounds!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch08"> +VIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Fifteen</span> tons of gold! Two and a half millions sterling! +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn stared at the girl incredulously. But she was making no +idle statement, and that she at least believed what she said was clear +from her flushed face and shining eyes. For a second he was +speechless. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifteen tons of gold?” He frowned and smiled at the same time. +“You’re mad, Mary!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mad, am I?” She nodded vigorously. “Oh, indeed, I daresay you think +so, but you won’t be thinking that very long! I have found the +Chelford treasure, I tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down heavily in his chair, his startled eyes still fixed upon +hers. He was for the moment inarticulate. +</p> + +<p> +“Rubbish!” he managed to say at last. “There is no Chelford treasure! +Living so long in the same house with Harry Chelford has made you as +mad as he!” +</p> + +<p> +She walked slowly to the desk, and, with her palms on the ledge, leant +down over him. +</p> + +<p> +“You think that, do you?” she asked in a steady voice. “I was three +years Lord Chelford’s secretary, and it’s true I had this treasure +stuff dinned into me from morning till night. The sight of a +black-lettered book makes me ill even now, and the plans of Fossaway +Manor that I’ve studied—well, I don’t like to think of them! I’ve +lived with this treasure for three years, Arthur, and there have been +times when I could have screamed when it was mentioned. I got so that +I came to like Dick Alford, just because he never spoke to me about +it. And then one day there came a bundle of plans from London—Harry +had a standing order with an old bookseller to send him anything he +could find about Chelfordbury or Fossaway Manor. Harry had gone up to +town that morning and I had no other work to do, so I went through +these dusty old sheets to index them. And on the third sheet I found +something that made me open my eyes.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was it?” asked Arthur carelessly. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with a quiet smile. +</p> + +<p> +“A lot has to happen before I tell you that,” she said. “Arthur, if I +give you this, or your share of this, will you marry me?” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur looked at her steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“If you can put me next to a million, or half a million,” he said +slowly, “I would marry you if you were the plainest woman on the face +of the earth! Instead of being the bonniest, prettiest little +angel——” +</p> + +<p> +“You can keep that stuff for later,” she said practically. +</p> + +<p> +She opened her handbag and took out a paper, and he watched with +fascinated interest. If he expected the secret of the Chelford +treasure to be laid before him in writing, he was to be disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not much of a lawyer,” said Mary, as she smoothed out the paper +and laid it on his blotting-pad, “but I think this is binding on both +sides.” +</p> + +<p> +He took up the paper with a wry face and read it. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +In consideration of receiving one half of the Chelford treasure, I, +Arthur Gwyn, of Willow House, Chelfordbury, Sussex, agree to bind +myself to Mary Agnes Wenner in the holy bonds of matrimony within one +month of the treasure being found and divided. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“Is that in order?” she asked, watching his face. +</p> + +<p> +He put the paper down. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear girl——” he began, in his suavest manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Arthur.” She perched herself on the edge of the desk. “This +is the time for ‘yes’s’ and ‘no’s,’ for ‘I will’s’ and ‘I won’t’s’! +I’m not in love with you and you’re not in love with me. But I want a +home and a position. I may not be a lady, but I am ladylike, and I +have lived long enough with swagger people to make no mistakes. Is it +yes or is it no?” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur looked at the paper again. +</p> + +<p> +“Does it strike you,” he said, “that the Chelford treasure is not +yours or mine to divide? That it belongs to Harry Chelford, his heirs +and his successors?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is treasure trove,” she said startlingly. “I know the law of the +country, because I’ve talked this thing over with Harry times without +number. Treasure found hidden after hundreds of years has to be +divided between the State and the finder.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Our Mary is a lawyer!” he bantered. “You’re wrong, my dear. That is +only the case if the owner of the money cannot be found. In the +present instance there is no doubt whatever that the treasure would +belong to Chelford.” +</p> + +<p> +He saw her face fall and went on: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that that is going to seriously inconvenience us,” he +said, looking her straight in the eyes. “You cannot lose what you +never had, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +She drew a deep sigh of relief. +</p> + +<p> +“It is Harry’s, I suppose, but after the way he has treated me, and +all that I’ve done for him——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” he said soothingly. “We needn’t worry about Harry. The +only question is, have you found the treasure?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve actually seen it?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she hesitated, “I haven’t seen it. I hadn’t time. But I saw the +boxes through the grating. The door was locked, and I was so excited +that I had to come out and walk around. And then Dick Alford saw me.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur was puzzled. He knew this girl well enough; they had been good +friends in the days when she was Chelford’s secretary, and she had +been a most useful agent of his. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, let’s get down to brass tacks,” he said brusquely. “Where did +you see this treasure and when?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you when. I saw it two days ago,” she said, to his +surprise, for he had thought she was talking about some experience she +had had when she was an inmate of Fossaway Manor. +</p> + +<p> +“Two days ago?” he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Two days ago,” she affirmed. “And as to where, well, there’s another +matter to be settled before we get as far as that, Arthur. Will you +sign that agreement?” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at the paper again. His training in the law, his natural +instincts against putting his name under any document which bound him, +urged him to temporize. +</p> + +<p> +“It is yes or no,” she said, as though she read his mind. “I’m not +going to fool around with you unless you mean business. I’ll take it +to Harry, and maybe, if I put him in possession of this gold, he’ll do +the right thing by me.” +</p> + +<p> +And, seeing that he made no move, she took up the paper, folded it +determinedly, and put it in her little satchel. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s the hurry?” he said, in alarm. “Mary, you’re mad to expect me +to take a big decision like this without giving the matter a moment’s +thought. Don’t you realize what you’re asking me to do? You’re +proposing an act of sheer robbery and you’re asking me to become an +accomplice. After all——” He shrugged his shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“If your conscience is hurting you,” she said, “we’ll leave it. I’m +not the sort of girl who’d throw herself at any man’s head. I’ll take +it along to Harry and see if his conscience is busy.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned to go, but before she reached the door he had intercepted +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be silly and don’t be unreasonable.” He was more than a little +agitated. “It’s a big thing you’re asking——” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a big thing I’m giving,” she said impatiently. “Two million and +a half pounds—there’s nothing mean about that.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her by the arm and forcibly drew her back. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down and don’t be a fool,” he said. “I’ve told you already I’ll +marry you to-morrow, and I’ll go farther and say that there never was +a time when money was sweeter to me than it is at the moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you sign that note?” +</p> + +<p> +He skimmed it through quickly, making sure that he was under no +obligation if the treasure did not materialize, and, picking up a pen, +he made a little correction, she watching suspiciously, and signed +with a flourish. +</p> + +<p> +“What is that you’ve put into the paper?” she demanded. +</p> + +<p> +“An exit for Arthur Gwyn,” he said with a whimsical smile. “The +document reads ‘In consideration of receiving on behalf of my client +Lord Chelford,’ etcetera, etcetera.” +</p> + +<p> +At first she did not understand, and then a slow smile dawned on her +face. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” she nodded. “That means that if anything comes out, you’re +acting for him and not for yourself. Arthur, there are times when I +think you’re clever!” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn smiled as he put his arm about her and led her to the +window. Below, thick streams of road traffic were passing east and +west. A great lorry was under his eyes; he saw an inscription on its +side, “5 tons.” It would require three such lorries to move the +Chelford treasure, he thought, and for a moment his head reeled. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you how clever I am when I handle the first bar of the +Chelford treasure. And you’ll know how clever you are when I’ve dealt +with the last. There’s two millions in this. Now, tell me, where is +this gold?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him for a second, and then, lowering her voice: +</p> + +<p> +“In the vaults of Chelford Abbey,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +For a second neither spoke, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“Will you see your sister, Mr. Gwyn? She has just arrived.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn spun round, an oath on his lips. Gilder had come +noiselessly into the room, his inscrutable eyes fixed upon his +employer. Not a muscle of his face betrayed whether or not he had +overheard the last words. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch09"> +IX +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Leslie Gwyn’s</span> occupations at Willow House were well defined. Though +her brother did not maintain a very expensive or elaborate +establishment, he lived in a style consonant with the position he held +in the county. There were little dinner parties, an occasional dance, +and in the winter, Arthur, who was a good man to hounds and was +ambitious to be master of the local pack, entertained on a lavish +scale the more prominent members of the hunt. In these amenities +Leslie acted as hostess for her brother, and at all times was the real +housekeeper of the establishment. For all his extravagance he was a +careful and grudging house master, required that the necessities of +life should be bought in the cheapest markets, that the best at the +lowest price should be found upon his table. +</p> + +<p> +The resolve to go to town that morning had been born of a sudden +impulse. The day was her own and she could do as she liked with it. +For some reason the idea of lunching alone did not appeal to her. She +had a wild thought of going on to Fossaway Manor, but remembered that +Wednesday was a day that Dick Alford gave up entirely to visiting his +tenant farmers. She did not attempt to explain to herself why the +prospect of lunching tête-à-tête with her fiancé was even more +distasteful than lunching alone. She had got beyond the point of +finding excuses for herself; she felt a certain recklessness; was +conscious that her manner and attitude of mind were defiant. Against +what and whom? +</p> + +<p> +With a lift of her pretty shoulders she shrugged the matter out of +consideration. All that she knew was that the preoccupation of Dick +Alford and the unlikelihood of seeing him, made a visit to Fossaway +Manor not only undesirable but out of the question. +</p> + +<p> +She would go to town: the decision was taken in an instant, and she +went upstairs and dressed hurriedly, whilst the gardener wheeled her +little two-seater to the drive before the house. Five minutes later +she was spinning along the straight road toward the railway station. +She had plenty of time; indeed, there was a certainty that she would +arrive at the rail at least half-an-hour before the train left, even +if it pulled out on time. +</p> + +<p> +As she entered Fontwell Cutting she thought she saw a familiar form +crossing the field toward the road a quarter of a mile away, and her +heart jumped for no known reason. The high walls of the cut road shut +out her view, but when she emerged and slid down the steep little hill +to the village road, she discovered that she had not been mistaken, +and brought her car to a halt as Dick Alford opened a field gate and +came out. +</p> + +<p> +He greeted her with a wave of his hand and a smile, and, to her +consternation, would have passed on had she not called him back. +</p> + +<p> +“You are very jumpy and cross this morning,” she said, and to her +surprise he admitted that fault, though she had seen nothing in his +manner to deserve the challenge she had made. +</p> + +<p> +“I am very annoyed indeed. If there is one thing I don’t want to see, +it is our good farms turned into little residential estates for the +City gentry! I sold Red Farm to Mr. Leonard last week, under the +impression that the old”—he checked a naughty word—“gentleman wanted +to extend his holding, though why on earth he should want to buy Red +Farm, which is the poorest land around here, I couldn’t guess.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what has he done?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was indeed very much annoyed, she noticed now, and was secretly +amused. She had a woman’s satisfaction in seeing the man she liked +thrown momentarily off his balance and revealing himself in a light +that was new to her. +</p> + +<p> +“And what has the old—gentleman done?” she mocked him. +</p> + +<p> +“He has resold the farm to a wretched man in London—though the +purchaser is not aware that such a sale is invalid without my +signature.” +</p> + +<p> +“A stranger?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; though he has been living in the neighbourhood all summer. He +has a cottage somewhere about here.” +</p> + +<p> +“On the Ravensrill?” she asked, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the fellow,” he nodded. “I’ve never seen him, but I +understood he was only staying here for a few months. And now I find +that the beggar’s bought Red Farm and intends putting up something in +stucco with bow windows! And I daresay he will dig an artificial pond, +start a rosary, and turn God’s productive acres into a forcing house +for sickly flowers!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why shouldn’t he?” she asked coolly, and he stared at her. “After +all, you said this was the poorest land round here, and if it cannot +be useful it may as well be beautiful. I rather like artificial ponds +and rosaries.” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of his annoyance he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“Then probably you’ll go to Mr. Gilder’s house-warming,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She started. +</p> + +<p> +“Who?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Gilder. He’s something in the City—probably a deuce of a swell +in his own way, but I wish he’d gone somewhere else. And as to +Leonard, I’ve already told him that I shall not go to his funeral.” +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, you ought to be ashamed of yourself!” she said indignantly. +“Poor old man!” Then, in a different voice: “You don’t know his +Christian name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Whose—Leonard’s?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be stupid—Mr. Gilder’s.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“Fabrian,” he said at last. “What a name! It sounds like a secret +society!” +</p> + +<p> +She wondered if Arthur knew of this enterprise of his clerk: it was +hardly likely that Mr. Gilder would buy property in the neighbourhood +without consulting his chief. For the moment she deemed it prudent to +turn the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“If you were nice and kind and brotherly,” she said, “you would come +along with me to the station and garage my car like a nice man.” +</p> + +<p> +He stood irresolutely, and for a moment she went hot at the implied +rebuff. And then: +</p> + +<p> +“I’m wasting my master’s time,” he said, “but there are occasions when +pleasure must interfere with duty, and this is one of them. Do you +mind if I drive? I have no faith in women drivers.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very rude,” she said, but nevertheless moved aside to let him +take the wheel. +</p> + +<p> +“How is Harry this morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fine,” he said sardonically. And then, heartily ashamed of himself: +“Harry is trying a new patent medicine. You’ve never been in his +bedroom? That is an indelicate question to ask, but have you?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head, the hint of laughter in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“There are about eight hundred and forty-five varieties of patent +medicines in Harry’s bedroom,” he said grimly. “Once every three +months we have a spring-cleaning and chuck ’em out! Really, there +isn’t very much wrong with Harry, and if he did not read patent +medicine advertisements he would be a happier man. Just now he’s +trying something for his nerves, and if there’s anything left in the +bottle at the end of the week I shall take it myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poor Harry!” she said softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’m a brute to grouse,” he said, almost gruffly, and seemed to +imply in some subtle fashion that she was a provocative party to his +brutality. +</p> + +<p> +It occurred to her as strange that he never spoke about the time when +she would be mistress of Fossaway Manor. It would have been natural in +him to say, “When you’re married I hope you’ll cure Harry of that +nonsense,” but he had made no such reference. That was the strange +thing about Dick, that he never even suggested or hinted of a coming +time when she would be Countess of Chelford. In one way she was glad +he did not—especially now. +</p> + +<p> +They wound slowly through the leafy lanes, passed a little wood, all +olive, russet, and purple with the decay of autumn, and came to the +station ten minutes ahead of time. +</p> + +<p> +“You have had no further visit from your Black Abbot?” she asked, as +they strolled on to the station platform. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No; the police came last night to make inquiries. I don’t suppose it +will go much farther. You read about it in the newspaper, of course?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Servants talk,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I really don’t believe in this Black Abbot,” he went on. “It is queer +that Harry is scared of this spook. He never goes outside the house +when the old Abbot is reported in the neighbourhood.” +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t believe either?” +</p> + +<p> +He pursed his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“When I see a ghost I shall believe it. Until then I am politely +sceptical.” +</p> + +<p> +As the train drew out of the station she put her head out of the +window and looked back. He was standing stock still upon the platform +where she had left him; and although she could not see his face, she +felt that he was gazing after her, and thought she detected a certain +tenseness in his very attitude—all of which was very pleasing to Miss +Leslie Gwyn. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch10"> +X +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Strange</span> as it may seem, she had never visited her brother’s office +on High Holborn before she left her taxi at the door and came up in +the elevator to his magnificent suite. Her appearance had a prosaic +cause. She had left the country without a penny: a fact she did not +realize till the ticket collector, working through the train, came +into her compartment and aroused her from a daydream to the +realization that she had neither ticket nor money to pay for it. She +gave the man her card, and a taxi brought her to Holborn. +</p> + +<p> +She was to have another novel experience. A tall, thick-set man, with +iron-gray hair and a strong, attractive face, had come into the +waiting room to meet her. She remembered him as the solitary fisherman +who had sat fishing for hours on the bank of Ravensrill, without, +apparently, catching anything. So this was the redoubtable Mr. Gilder +of whom Arthur had so often spoken. She was not especially curious +about him. He was a head clerk, and, by Arthur’s account, a clever man +at his work; but now that she saw him, she was impressed. He was +distinctive—outside of type. The average of humanity you may pass in +the street without noticing. It would have been impossible to see +Fabrian Gilder once without recognizing him instantly after the +passage of years. The jaw was almost square, his big mouth was so +tightly drawn that he seemed to be lipless; a powerful nose, a pair of +penetrating gray eyes, under straggly, uneven eyebrows; this, and the +breadth of his shoulders, conveyed an imponderable expression of +power. +</p> + +<p> +“You are Miss Gwyn, of course?” he said. “I would have recognized your +relationship with your brother even if I had not known your name.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a little shock to Leslie that she in any way resembled Arthur, +for Arthur’s good looks were of a variety which she neither envied nor +admired. +</p> + +<p> +“He is engaged at the moment. If you’ll sit down I’ll go along and +tell him.” +</p> + +<p> +His eyes did not leave her face. She had often seen in stories the +word “devour” applied to an intensity of gaze, and she thought that +fictional characters must look somehow as Mr. Gilder was looking. He +was not staring; it was the concentration, the probing investigation +of those bright gray eyes, that made her writhe inside. If he had been +impertinent it would have been an easy matter to deal with him, but he +was respect itself. His attitude was deferential, his general manner +was friendly. He was dressed very well and carefully, she thought, and +wondered whether Arthur’s preciosity in the matter of clothing +influenced his staff. The gray homespun, the rather solid shoes, were +set off by the expensiveness of his linen. With a woman’s eye she saw +that in his way this man was something of a dandy too. +</p> + +<p> +“I hear you are going to live near us, Mr. Gilder?” she said, and he +was obviously taken aback. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—yes,” he said awkwardly. “I’ve bought a little place near your +house. I love that part of the country.” +</p> + +<p> +“We shall be neighbours,” she said with a smile, but felt no pleasure +in the prospect. +</p> + +<p> +“Er—yes. I suppose we shall be, Miss Gwyn,” he agreed. +</p> + +<p> +“It will be very nice for Arthur. I suppose it was his suggestion that +you should come down?” +</p> + +<p> +He had a nervous little trick of stroking an invisible moustache, for +he was clean-shaven. +</p> + +<p> +“Well… no,” he said. “I haven’t told Mr. Gwyn yet that I have bought +the property. I thought another time would be more opportune. I bought +it for a song—thirty-five hundred pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“That is an expensive song,” she said, before she realized an error of +taste. +</p> + +<p> +This time he was visibly disconcerted. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I—er, I borrowed the money,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She had a feeling that he was going to ask her a favour, and guessed +what the favour would be: Leslie had the uncanny gift of reading +people’s minds and gathering their surface thoughts, and in those +moments when Fabrian Gilder dropped his mask he was rather easy. He +opened his lips to speak, thought better of it, meeting, perhaps, the +chill atmosphere of a refusal before it was given, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see if your brother is disengaged,” he said, and went into the +room to Arthur Gwyn, his head reeling with the vision which had +emerged through the gray fog of his drab life. +</p> + +<p> +Day after day he had watched her, and she had never known. He had left +his rod and line to steal behind trees that he might see her pass. She +was romance in excelsis—the perfect realization of thirty years of +dreaming. +</p> + +<p> +It took him a second to compose himself before he turned the handle +and walked in, and then he stood stricken dumb by the words that came +to him. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch11"> +XI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">My sister</span>?” said Arthur quickly. He looked from Gilder to Mary +Wenner. “Come and see me later,” he said in a lower voice. “Gilder, +show Miss Wenner out through the side door.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder opened the private door and followed the girl into the +corridor. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you living?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +There was such a note of authority in his voice that for the moment +the girl was taken off her guard. +</p> + +<p> +“57 Cranston Mansions. Why?” she asked, with a certain archness that +indicated resentment but invited a further offence. +</p> + +<p> +“Because I want to see you,” said Gilder. “Can I come round to your +flat some evening?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Wenner was shocked a little at this. There were moments when her +sense of propriety was easily outraged. She was curious too; so far +from resenting his commanding address, she rather liked it. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, any evening you wish, if you will let me know that you are +coming. I will ask a young lady friend to keep me company.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder’s hard lips curled. +</p> + +<p> +“Unless you particularly want a chaperon, don’t get one,” he said. “I +have much to say to you that I don’t want anybody else to hear.” +</p> + +<p> +He accompanied her to the elevator and on the way extracted a promise +to receive him alone. Miss Wenner was almost as curious to know the +object of that visit as Mr. Gilder was to discover what was behind the +amazing statement he had heard. He passed the closed door of Arthur’s +room and heard voices. He would have given a lot for an excuse to +interrupt brother and sister, but something told him that it would be +wiser if he kept out of his employer’s way until he was absolutely +certain that the girl had not betrayed the very carefully hidden +transaction which had made him the proprietor of Red Farm. +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a little goose to come up to town without money,” said Arthur, +as he skinned three notes from his pocketbook. “Here is enough to keep +you happy for the rest of your life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Would fifteen pounds do that?” she laughed, and was going, when she +remembered.… +</p> + +<p> +Arthur listened in amazement to the news she had to give. +</p> + +<p> +“Gilder has bought a house at Chelfordbury? Impossible!” he said. “He +would have told me. Why the dickens does he want a house?—besides, he +has no money.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hasn’t he?” she asked, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +Arthur scratched his chin irritably. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose the beggar has; but a house at Chelfordbury—that is +extraordinary! I wasn’t even aware that he knew the place.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is the man who has been staying at Ravensrill Cottage all the +summer,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“The fisherman!” He whistled. “What a close bird he is! Of course,” he +went on quickly, “there is nothing wrong in a man wanting to live at +Chelfordbury, and there’s no reason in life why he shouldn’t buy a +house. But what a sly old fox!” +</p> + +<p> +He was troubled; she saw that he was trying to hide it behind a +flippancy that was transparent to her. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew, of course, that somebody had rented the fisherman’s cottage, +as they call it, and to think that he’s been down all these months and +never once given himself away!” +</p> + +<p> +“He has a car, if he’s the same man who was living at the cottage,” +she nodded. “Dick Alford is furious!” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur chuckled. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor old Dick!” he said good-humouredly. “He loathes this residential +idea, and when I put forward a scheme to cut up one of his northern +estates into residential properties, he nearly bit my head off. Harry +would have done it like a shot, and I hope, my dear, when you’re +married you’ll persuade him…” +</p> + +<p> +He waited expectantly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—when I am married,” she said, and her tone made him glance at +her keenly. But he was wise enough to skim over that subject. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, of course, is a fool,” he said, with good-natured contempt. “He +has a blind faith in the future of agriculture in this country, and +grudges every acre that’s taken out of cultivation. And yet, if you +were to put up a scheme to build huge blocks of cottages to relieve +the slum congestion, or something equally quixotic and unprofitable, +he would jump at the idea. I can well understand that the mere thought +of a successful lawyer’s clerk setting himself up as a country +gentleman would make Dick foam at the mouth!” +</p> + +<p> +“He wasn’t foaming when I left him,” she said drily. +</p> + +<p> +“When you left him?” He was quick to take a point. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he came down to the station with me.” And she could not account +for her momentary feeling of embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +He was still searching her face, and then, laying his hands on her +shoulders, he shook her gently. +</p> + +<p> +“Old girl,” he said, “keep your mind off the Second Son! He’s a +good-looking fellow, and side by side with his brother there’s no +question of choice! But he’s a second son, which means that he’s next +door to being broke. And you can’t live on good looks or——” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her eyes slowly to his. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean—I can’t live on good looks?” she said deliberately. +“Why do you emphasize the fact that Dick Alford is poor? Amn’t I an +heiress?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not speak, and then, with a little laugh, dropped his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course, chick!” he said lightly. “Only—well, I want you to +do something for yourself. Make a name in the country. It will be +something to have the position which Harry can offer you. Dick is +quite a good fellow—one of the best, although he doesn’t get on very +well with me. But there’s nothing to it with him, Leslie. You might as +well marry some poverty-stricken gentleman farmer——” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped under the steady gaze that met him. +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Poverty-stricken’ again, Arthur—without suggesting that I would +rather marry Dick Alford, I wonder why the question of his poverty +interests you so much. If you had called him a commoner and a nobody, +I could have understood, but you insist upon the question of my +possible fiancé’s wealth, and that seems strange to me.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed long and loudly, but his merriment seemed, to her sensitive +ear, lacking in sincerity. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to be a lawyer, Leslie! Upon my word, I’ve a good mind to +have you coached for an examination! You’d look simply topping in a +wig and gown! And now, my little girl, you must run away, because I’ve +a tremendous lot of work.” +</p> + +<p> +He put his arm round her shoulders and walked with her to the door, +and breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the whine of the elevator +carrying her down. Closing the door behind him, he rang the bell, and, +to the clerk who came: +</p> + +<p> +“Ask Mr. Gilder to come in, will you, please?” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch12"> +XII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When</span> Gilder had this message he knew that the girl had told her +brother; and although he had his fair share of moral courage, it +needed a conscious effort on his part to answer the summons. +</p> + +<p> +“Gilder, what is this story of you buying Red Farm?” asked Arthur +sharply. +</p> + +<p> +“Why should I not buy Red Farm?” replied Gilder coolly. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no reason in the world why you shouldn’t,” said Arthur, +after a moment’s thought; “but it is rather curious you never told +me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you might object,” said Gilder. “Business men hate their +workaday associates living anywhere near them. It was stupid of me not +to tell you. I’ve been living in a cottage at Chelfordbury for three +months—was that in itself objectionable? You will forgive me for +saying so, but although I have always regarded you with the respect +that is due to an employer, I have never quite looked upon you as my +feudal lord!” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur grinned for a second. +</p> + +<p> +“Once or twice I thought of coming over to see you,” Gilder went on, +“but I’ve always had what I think to be a natural reluctance to +intrude myself in a social capacity upon my chief. If you had ever +invited me to come and stay a week-end at your place I would have +come, and you would have known all about my presence in the +neighbourhood. As it was, I felt very much in the position of a +servant enjoying himself in his own independent way and feeling no +need to consult his employer as to how he should employ his spare +time—and money.” +</p> + +<p> +“And money,” repeated Arthur. “I didn’t know you were so well off, +Gilder.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Gilder inclined his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I have already hinted to you that I have made considerable sums. +There, again, it has never seemed necessary that I should keep you +acquainted with my bank balance.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have had a moderate salary,” said Arthur significantly. “Not a +generous amount, I agree; certainly not an amount from which a man +could save a sum sufficient to buy and rebuild Red Farm and maintain +it.” +</p> + +<p> +For answer Gilder put his hand in his pocket and, taking out a little +Russian-leather note case, laid it on the table. The name in gold +letters upon the cover was that of a bookmaker who carried one of his +employer’s biggest accounts. With this firm Arthur had lost his +largest bets, for Truman’s had offered him facilities which other +houses had denied to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Truman?” He frowned. “What has that to do with it? Have you been +backing horses?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said simply. “I am Truman.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn gaped at him. Truman! The bookmaker to whom for weeks in +succession he had been paying thousands upon thousands of pounds! +</p> + +<p> +“Then the money you have—is my money!” he gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Your money?” said the other quietly. “If Truman’s had not taken it, +some other bookmaker would have done so. When you won you were +paid—have you any complaints?” +</p> + +<p> +“My money!” muttered Arthur. +</p> + +<p> +Gilder replaced the book in his pocket. +</p> + +<p> +“You remember five years ago complaining to me that you couldn’t find +bookmakers who would take big bets by telegram within a few minutes of +the race? That little talk gave me an idea. I knew you lost steadily, +that you were one of those—unfortunate people——” +</p> + +<p> +“Say ‘fools’—that was the word on your lips.” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Mug’ was the word,” said Mr. Gilder, with great calmness. “I knew +you were one of those people who couldn’t stop betting. So Truman’s +came into existence. Their book of rules was sent to you, featuring +the important concession that you could wire big sums of money up to +within a few minutes of a race. Do you know how much you’ve lost in +the last five years?” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur was pale with fury, but, mastering himself, shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“You have lost sixty-three thousand pounds to Truman alone,” said the +other slowly. “And I have won it!” +</p> + +<p> +The colour came and went in Arthur Gwyn’s face. He knew all the time +that his rage and resentment were unreasonable. Hitherto Truman had +been a name on a telegraph form, an address somewhere in the West End +to which his unprofitable telegrams were sent. Who they were he +neither knew nor cared; they might have been people infinitely more +objectionable than Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +But there was a suggestion of duplicity in the man’s confession. +Arthur Gwyn felt that he had been tricked by a servant he trusted, and +he was helpless in face of sixty-three thousand facts, all of which +balanced on the side of the hard-faced man before him. +</p> + +<p> +“You are not Rathburn & Co., I suppose?” he asked, mentioning another +bookmaking firm that had drawn heavily upon his resources. +</p> + +<p> +To his amazement, Gilder nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Rathburn & Company. I am also Burton & Smith. I am, in fact, the +three bookmakers to whom you have been losing money at the rate of +thirty thousand a year for the past five years. There is no sense in +looking like that, Gwyn. I have been guilty of no crime. On the few +occasions when you have won money, you have been paid. Your losses +would not have been so distasteful if they had been made to an unknown +man. I took the risk—my luck against yours. When I started, I staked +my little fortune—three thousand pounds, won through the years by +scrimping and saving. If you had been lucky, I should have been +ruined.” +</p> + +<p> +“Instead of which you were lucky—and I am ruined,” said Arthur Gwyn +huskily. He was shaken from his accustomed calm. “You are quite right, +though it is a little—bewildering.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked curiously at the inscrutable face of his managing clerk, +striving to readjust his estimate of a man whom he had looked upon as +little more than a superior servant. Then the humour of the position +struck him and he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“If I’m not careful I shall be sorry for myself, and I should hate +that, Gilder! So you’re a rich man, eh? What are you going to do with +your money?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder’s eyes did not leave his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to settle down in the country,” he said, “and I am going +to marry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid!” There was a note of irony in Arthur Gwyn’s tone. “And who +is the fortunate lady?” +</p> + +<p> +It was a long time before the other replied. He stared open-eyed at +his sometime master, and then, very deliberately and slowly: +</p> + +<p> +“It is my desire and intention to marry Miss Leslie Gwyn,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Not a muscle of Arthur Gwyn’s face moved; his colour did not change. +But into his eyes came a glare which was malign and devilish. For a +second the imperturbable Gilder was scared. Had he gone too far? Both +men were learning something that day. Gilder had a momentary view of +something that was very ugly and menacing, and then the curtains were +drawn and the inner self of Arthur Gwyn vanished in an enigmatic +smile. +</p> + +<p> +“That is very interesting and very—enterprising of you, Gilder! +Unfortunately, I have other plans.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose leisurely from his chair, walked round the desk and confronted +the other, his hands thrust into his pockets. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you prepared to pay for the privilege of being my +brother-in-law?” he bantered. +</p> + +<p> +Fabrian Gilder took up the challenge. +</p> + +<p> +“The return of half your betting losses for the past five years,” he +said. +</p> + +<p> +Arthur shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Not enough,” he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“The cancellation of four bills,” said Gilder deliberately, “drawn and +accepted by Lord Chelford, the acceptance in each case being forged by +you.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn staggered back to his desk, his face white and drawn, and +Gilder pursued the advantage. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t think it was an accident that I suggested you should get +Chelford to back a bill for you, did you? Seventy-five thousand pounds +isn’t enough for you, eh? I’ll give you this alternative: five years +in Dartmoor!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch13"> +XIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Leslie</span> had spent rather a boring afternoon, and not once but many +times she regretted that she had promised to return to Arthur’s +office. He was driving her down to Willow House, and, but for this +arrangement, she would have returned to Chelfordbury by an early +train, for her shopping did not occupy more than an hour. +</p> + +<p> +She rang up her brother to suggest this plan, never doubting that he +would agree, but, to her surprise: +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’d better return with me, girl. Come along to the office +about half-past four instead of five. By the way, Gilder wants us to +go home to his flat to tea. You don’t mind, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Gilder?” she said, in surprise, and he went on hastily: +</p> + +<p> +“We ought to be civil to him. He’s going to be a neighbour of ours, +and he—he’s not a bad sort of fellow.” +</p> + +<p> +Her inclination was to plead a headache and be excused an experience +which, to state the matter mildly, was not wholly to her taste. But +Arthur seldom asked a favour of her, and it was apparent from his tone +that he was anxious she should show this act of civility to his head +clerk; somewhat unwillingly she agreed. +</p> + +<p> +If he detected her reluctance, he made no comment upon it and seemed +in a hurry to hang up. There was no reason in the world why the +projected call should make her uneasy, and yet, for some obscure +reason, this coming experience hung like a cloud over her for the rest +of the afternoon. This time, when she returned to the office, she +entered by Arthur’s private door. He was alone, sitting at his desk in +a familiar attitude, his head between his hands, his gloomy eyes fixed +upon the blotting-pad. She thought his face had less colour than +usual; and in his eyes there was a haggard, hunted expression which +was startling. He forced a smile to greet her, but she was not +deceived. +</p> + +<p> +“Aren’t you well, Arthur?” she asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Fit as a fiddle,” he laughed; “only I have had a pretty heavy day. I +suppose I look a little washed out.” +</p> + +<p> +He did not seem very anxious to discuss himself, but plunged straight +into the subject of the surprising call they were to make. +</p> + +<p> +“Gilder has a flat off Regent’s Park,” he said. “Be as nice to him as +you can, Leslie. He’s been a pretty useful man. By the way,” he said +awkwardly, “he is a bachelor.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at this; in her wildest dreams she would not have imagined +that this statement had any particular interest for herself. +</p> + +<p> +“I had no idea he was such a—that he was so prosperous,” she said. +“No, I don’t mean that bachelorhood is a sign of poverty, but his +estate at Chelfordbury and his flat in Regent’s Park are not exactly +what one would have expected.” +</p> + +<p> +“He isn’t a bad fellow,” repeated Arthur, as he rang the bell. “I +think you’ll like him: he is rather—amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Amusing” was not the word he would have used, in all truth, but it +was the only word he could think of at the moment. As though he were +waiting for this summons, Mr. Gilder came in answer to the bell. He +carried a light coat over his arm and a spotless gray felt hat in his +hand. Again she was uncomfortably conscious of the man’s scrutiny. +</p> + +<p> +“You know Mr. Gilder, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +His uneasiness and apprehension were communicating themselves to her. +Try as she did, she could not succeed in shaking off her sensation of +disquietude. The atmosphere was electric; she would have been dull +indeed if she had not responded to the strain. +</p> + +<p> +Throughout the journey Mr. Gilder talked almost without interruption. +He had a deep but pleasant voice, and was an easy conversationalist. +Arthur was beginning to know something about the man with whom he had +worked side by side all these years, and to regard him in a new light. +Hitherto, Gilder had been a cipher—a familiar figure that had +appeared from heaven knew where in the morning and had disappeared at +the end of a day’s work into the blue. As though unconscious of his +employer’s wonder and speculation, Gilder chatted on. +</p> + +<p> +Afterward, Leslie catalogued the subjects which were discussed so +one-sidedly in that drive. He talked of aviation, of wireless, of +books he had read—Dumas was his favourite—of the war, of Russia, of +Italy’s renaissance, of American writers, of the weather, polo—of +almost every subject that occupied public attention. She knew that he +was trying to impress her, and saw in this no more than the natural +desire of a man to look well in the eyes of a woman. +</p> + +<p> +The flat was bigger than she had expected, and was in one of many in +the most exclusive apartment house on the Outer Circle. Arthur viewed +its expensive appointments with a glum face. One black week of his at +Ascot must have furnished three such flats as this, he thought, and +the little devil of resentment and loathing grew stronger in his +heart. +</p> + +<p> +Tea was served by two trimly uniformed maids, and Mr. Gilder acted the +part of host to perfection. He had a library of rare old books which +she must see, and he took them to a room the walls of which were +fitted with bookshelves and reminded Leslie, though there was no +resemblance between the two apartments, of the hall wherein her +fiancé spent most of his time. +</p> + +<p> +Gilder was showing the girl a rare first edition when a surprising +thing happened. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind if I run out for five minutes, Leslie? I want to see a +fellow who lives on the other side of the Park.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn’s voice was husky, his assumption of ease a miserable +failure. The girl looked at him in astonishment, and then examined the +face of the little watch on her wrist. +</p> + +<p> +“If you want to be back at Willow House in time for dinner——” she +began. +</p> + +<p> +“I sha’n’t be more than a quarter of an hour gone,” he said +desperately. “If you don’t mind…” +</p> + +<p> +Before she could utter a word he had vanished. It was all so +unexpected, so strange, that she could not quite realize what had +happened, and the last thought in the world she could have had was +that Arthur was deliberately leaving her alone with this gray man. +</p> + +<p> +On one point her mind was made up: she did not like Mr. Gilder; and +she was fairly certain that her antipathy was shared by her brother. +His strange manner in the presence of the man, his awkwardness, and, +most convincing proof of all, his silence, puzzled her. Arthur was +intensely selfish, would not go a step out of his way either for +courtesy’s sake or to save the feelings of those whom he regarded as +his dependents. And this sudden desire to oblige his head clerk was +contradictory to her knowledge of him. Yet she felt neither alarm nor +annoyance, finding herself in that little library, alone with this +square-jawed clerk. +</p> + +<p> +As the door closed upon her brother, Fabrian Gilder carefully replaced +on the shelf the book he had been examining. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be in my new home by the spring,” he said, “and I hope I +shall see more of you, Miss Gwyn.” +</p> + +<p> +She made a conventionally polite reply. +</p> + +<p> +“My ambition has always been to settle in the country and to follow my +two hobbies, which are fishing and reading,” he went on. “Happily, I +am in the position of being able to retire from my profession—your +brother has probably told you that I am a fairly wealthy man.” +</p> + +<p> +Something in his tone focussed her attention. Her heart beat a little +faster, and for the first time she was conscious of being alone with +him. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not an old man—fifty I regard as the prime of life—and I think +I have the capacity for making any woman happy.” +</p> + +<p> +She met his eyes steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope we shall have the pleasure of meeting your wife,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +He made no reply to this, and she grew hot and cold under the scrutiny +of those merciless gray eyes. And then, before she realized what was +happening, his two big hands had closed about her arms and he was +holding her away from him, peering into her face. +</p> + +<p> +“There is one woman in the world for me,” he said, and his voice was +husky with emotion; “one face that fills my eyes day and night! +Leslie, all these months you have not been out of my sight or mind!” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me go!” she cried, struggling to free herself. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you! I’ve worked for you, I’ve schemed for you! Leslie, I love +you as you will never be loved again! I want you—I want you!” +</p> + +<p> +He was drawing her nearer and nearer, his eyes, like coals of fire, +fascinated her to a queer listlessness that was almost quiescence. She +found no reserve to combat him, and could only stare helplessly at the +hard face—— +</p> + +<p> +There was a knock at the door. He pushed her aside, his face convulsed +with rage. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is that?” he asked harshly, and the voice of the maid replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Richard Alford to see you, sir!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch14"> +XIV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dick Alford</span>, waiting in the pretty drawing-room and wondering +exactly how he should introduce what promised to be a very unpleasant +discussion, saw the door flung open and a white-faced girl ran in. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Dick, Dick!” she sobbed. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment she was in his arms, her face against his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake, what has happened? How did you come here?” he asked, +bewildered. +</p> + +<p> +Before she could reply, the big figure of Fabrian Gilder filled the +doorway. The man did not speak, but the smouldering rage in his eyes +was eloquent. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what do you want?” he boomed. +</p> + +<p> +Dick put the girl gently from him. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you here, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur brought me,” she gasped. “I’m awfully sorry to make such a +fool of myself, but——” +</p> + +<p> +Dick looked from the girl to the man in the doorway and began dimly to +understand. +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur brought you here?” he said slowly. “And left you alone—with +this man?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he a friend of yours?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I only met him to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +Gradually the explanation of her distress was beginning to dawn upon +him, and a cold rage filled his heart. An unfortunate moment for +Arthur Gwyn to return. Dick heard the tinkle of a bell, quick +footsteps in the hall, and saw the white face of the lawyer, made +hideous by the smile he forced. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, old girl! What’s the trouble?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +He did not look at his host: this Dick noticed with gathering fury. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you had better take Leslie home,” he said. “I have a little +business to do with Mr. Gilder.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder had recovered something of his command of himself and his +feelings; the situation, awkward as it was, had brought him violently +into the circle about which so far he had revolved. It were better to +be considered as an undesirable suitor than to be denied consideration +as a factor at all in Leslie Gwyn’s life. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask by what right you dispose of my guests?” he demanded, but +Dick took no notice of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Look after your sister, Gwyn,” he said, and there was a scarcely +veiled menace in the words. “I will give myself the pleasure of +calling on you this evening.” +</p> + +<p> +He took the girl’s hand in his; she was still white and shaking, but +smiled into his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve made myself rather ridiculous, haven’t I?” she said, in a low +tone that only he could hear. “Dicky—perhaps I’m getting a little +jumpy, and I may have taken offence——” +</p> + +<p> +He patted her hand gently and walked with her past Gilder into the +hall, Arthur following. It was Dick who opened the door, and stood +patiently until they had gone, then he turned to face the enraged +owner of the flat. +</p> + +<p> +“I had some real business to do with you, Gilder, but that can wait. +First of all, I would like to ask, what have you said to Miss Gwyn?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is entirely my business,” said Gilder. His gaze was steady; +again he was completely master of himself, if not of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“My business also,” said Dick, without heat. “You are aware that Miss +Gwyn is engaged to my brother?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder licked his dry lips. +</p> + +<p> +“That doesn’t really interest me,” he said. And then, after a second’s +thought: “I’m going to be frank with you, Alford—we may as well clear +the air. I have asked Miss Gwyn to be my wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, indeed?” said Dick softly. “And what had Miss Gwyn to say to +that?” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t give her an opportunity of replying,” said the other, “but +I rather think that there will be no difficulty in the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick did not conceal his smile. A shrewd judge of men, he had rightly +understood the situation when he had seen Arthur’s face on his return +to the flat. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean there will be no difficulty so far as Mr. Gwyn is concerned? +I admit you have an historical precedent. You are not the first lawyer +who wished to marry into his master’s family.” +</p> + +<p> +If Dick had not been angry he would not have said this; immediately +the words were out he was sorry. But Gilder took up the point quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not a Uriah Heep,” he said, with a grim smile. “I am neither +humble nor lowly.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry, but really I don’t think that matters very much, Gilder. +Whatever Mr. Gwyn’s attitude may be, there will be a considerable +difficulty in respect to Miss Gwyn—and to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“To you?” Gilder’s eyebrows went up and his lips curled. “Are you the +lady’s—er——” +</p> + +<p> +“I am not engaged to Miss Gwyn, but my brother is,” said Dick evenly. +“But that is not the point. I am a friend of Leslie Gwyn’s, and even +if she changed her mind about marrying into my family, that would not +affect the issue.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder was about to speak, but Dick went on: +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what pull you have with Gwyn or what dire threats you +are holding over his head.” +</p> + +<p> +He saw the man start, and laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“That went very near the mark?” he said. “But whatever influence you +have, Gilder, you are not going to marry Leslie Gwyn.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder’s eyes narrowed. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that a threat?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“You can take it as a threat or as a pleasant compliment, or any old +way you choose,” said Dick, with that impish smile of his. “And now, +if you don’t mind, we’ll come to business. You’ve bought a property of +ours—Red Farm. You’ve paid thirty-five hundred pounds to Leonard. I +have come to ask you to call off your bargain and to take five hundred +profit.” +</p> + +<p> +“In other words, you want to buy it back, eh? Well, there’s nothing +doing!” said Gilder harshly. “I intend living at Red Farm, and there +isn’t a law in the land that can stop me. You may not like my +presence, but that is neither here nor there. I am not living at +Chelfordbury for the pleasure of seeing you every day of my life.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I wondered why you wanted to live there at all, but now I think I +understand,” he said. “The offer I have made to you is without +prejudice to any action I may take. Unfortunately for you, Leonard has +no power to re-transfer the property without my brother’s +consent—which means my consent, for I hold his power of attorney. +Leonard may hold the property, but you cannot. You’re a lawyer and it +is not necessary for me to explain the intricacies of a copyhold +lease, and that was all Leonard was buying. If you decide to fight the +case, I’ll take you into court, and you know that I shall get a +verdict against you. I am offering you a chance of settling the matter +amicably.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which I refuse,” said the other promptly. +</p> + +<p> +Dick inclined his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Very good. You will probably, on considering the matter in a calmer +atmosphere, take a different view.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked from the room, swinging his hat. In the doorway he turned. +</p> + +<p> +“As for Miss Leslie Gwyn, you will be well advised to reconsider that +question also.” +</p> + +<p> +“And suppose I don’t?” +</p> + +<p> +Again that unfathomable smile. +</p> + +<p> +“You are going to be sorry,” said Dick cryptically. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch15"> +XV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Not</span> a word did Leslie say about her interview with Gilder, and her +brother seemed just as anxious to avoid the topic as she. They drove +down from town, and all the time he kept up a ceaseless flow of talk +about affairs which he thought might interest her. He was nervous, and +once, when she woke him from a reverie with a question, he started and +turned red. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry!” he stammered. “I was thinking of something.” +</p> + +<p> +“And something unpleasant, Arthur,” she said gently. +</p> + +<p> +He was staring straight ahead of him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, something damnably unpleasant!” +</p> + +<p> +They were nearing Chelfordbury now, and she put the question that had +trembled on her lips throughout that long journey. +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur, do you know what Mr. Gilder asked me?” And, when he did not +reply: “He proposed to me,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +Still he avoided her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he?” he asked awkwardly. “Well, that’s an extraordinary thing for +him to do!” +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur, did you know he was going to propose to me when you left us +alone?” +</p> + +<p> +“He isn’t a bad fellow,” said Arthur Gwyn lamely. “Of course, the idea +is preposterous. But, after all, it is no sin for a fellow to fall in +love with a girl and want to marry her—I mean, one can see his point +of view.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was a little shocked; she was more than a little angry. But she +kept a tight rein on her tongue. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Arthur, you wouldn’t agree to that? You know I am engaged to +Harry—why, you told me that it was the dream of your life to see me +wearing a coronet! Not that I want to wear the beastly thing, but that +was what you said.” +</p> + +<p> +Ordinarily, Arthur Gwyn was possessed of a ready tongue and a nimble +wit. He had lied his way out of many an embarrassing situation with +more worldly wise people than Leslie. But, somehow, in her presence +his brain refused to function, and his witticisms were banal and +vulgar even to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear little girl,” he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness, “it +really doesn’t matter to me whom you marry so long as you’re happy. +Gilder is a very solid man; he has a considerable private fortune.” +</p> + +<p> +This time she swung round on her seat and faced him. +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur, why do you insist upon the fortune? Where is my money?” +</p> + +<p> +The question came point-blank and was not to be fenced with. He roused +himself to meet a situation which had never before arisen. +</p> + +<p> +“Your money? Why, invested, of course!” +</p> + +<p> +He tried very hard, but he could not produce that convincing note +which was so necessary. +</p> + +<p> +“Your fortune is in all sorts of shares and bonds. What a queer +question to ask me, girlie!” +</p> + +<p> +“How much money have I?” she demanded ruthlessly. +</p> + +<p> +“About a quarter of a million—a little more or a little less. For +goodness’ sake don’t talk about money, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I <i>will</i> talk about it,” she said. “Arthur, have I any at all?” +</p> + +<p> +His laughter did not carry conviction. And usually people accepted his +word. Harry Chelford had asked him only a week before in what stocks +was his late mother’s fortune invested. And Arthur had replied glibly +enough. It was the Miriam Chelford Trust that had occupied his mind +through the journey. Something must be done there. Dick Alford had +started to ask questions, and Dick had a memory like a recording +machine. As for Leslie and her tiresome questions: +</p> + +<p> +“What a silly kid you are! Of course you’ve got money! I wish to +heaven I had half your wad! You’re a very rich little girl, and you +ought to be a very happy little girl.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I have a penny,” she said, and his heart sank. +</p> + +<p> +With a tremendous effort of will he met her questioning eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you say that?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know—in a way I hope I’m poor. I know I had money left me, +because you showed me the will a long time ago. But you’ve been +handling it, Arthur, and I’ve an idea that things haven’t been going +too well with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mean I’ve stolen your fortune?” he asked loudly, and she +smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I wouldn’t accuse you of that. I think it is possible you may have +invested my fortune—unwisely! And it is quite possible that that +quarter of a million has dwindled and dwindled until it has +disappeared. Is that so?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to God you wouldn’t ask such stupid questions,” he said +irritably. “Of course it isn’t so!” +</p> + +<p> +For one wild moment he had the impulse to tell her the truth; but +vanity, a shrinking from the possible effects the news would have upon +the one person in the world for whom he had a grain of affection, +inhibited the confession. +</p> + +<p> +Back he came naturally to the one thought present in his mind, as he +chattered and as he brooded. His last hope lay in the discovery of the +Chelford treasure. If that were found, he could snap his fingers at +Gilder, could restore the wasted fortune of his sister, and establish +himself beyond assail. Gilder would never dare bring his story of the +four bills to a court of law, and if he did, backed by the Chelford +fortune, Arthur could face the storm, confident that, if he made +restoration to the man he had robbed, no evil consequences would +follow. He was grasping at a straw, and knew it. But Mary Wenner was a +shrewd little devil, not the kind of girl who, for the sake of making +a sensation, would come to him with a cock-and-bull story. She might +have been mistaken; on the other hand, she was so brimful of +confidence that he could not believe the story was altogether without +foundation. +</p> + +<p> +The road to Willow House skirted the grounds of Fossaway Manor, and he +saw the crumbling arch, red in the setting sun, standing like a fiery +question mark that attuned with his mood of doubt and hope. +</p> + +<p> +Arrived at his home, he went up to his room to bathe and change before +dinner, and it was with a positive sense of freedom that he found +himself alone. He was a fool not to have told her the truth, he +thought. After dinner he would get her in a softer mood and make a +clean breast of it. And then, at the tail of this decision, came the +recollection of his interview with Mary Wenner. Suppose she had told +the truth? Suppose he found these millions of pounds that had lain for +centuries in the ground? He formed yet another plan. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch16"> +XVI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">To his</span> unspeakable relief, Leslie was in her most cheerful mood +throughout dinner, and the thought of Fabrian Gilder seemed to have +been effectively banished. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie,” he asked, after the coffee had been served, “I want you to +do me a great favour.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him across the table, doubt in her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember Mary Wenner, who used to be Harry’s secretary?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. Dick doesn’t like her very much; he was telling me the other +day——” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind what Dick likes or dislikes,” he said testily. “Great +heavens! Are our lives to be run according to his fancies? I’m very +sorry,” he apologized with a laugh, “but you’ll have to forgive +me—I’m rather nervous to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about Mary Wenner?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I was wondering whether you would like to ask her down here to stay a +week-end? I shall have a lot of work to do, and she’s a very excellent +stenographer. But I’ll be perfectly frank with you and tell you that +that is not the only reason I’d like you to invite her. She’s been in +some kind of scrape and I want to help her through.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie Gwyn was not curious, or she might have questioned him more +about this mythical trouble. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why she shouldn’t come,” she said. “If you’ll give me +her address I will write to her. I rather fancy that Dick’s main +objection to her is that she had some sort of attachment for Harry.” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s almost forgotten Harry,” smiled her brother. “To be perfectly +candid, I like the girl. She’s not a lady, of course, but ‘lady’ +nowadays is a vague and meaningless term. And there was really nothing +in her affair with Harry. I mean it was not serious.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never thought so,” said the girl, and thereupon the question of +Mary Wenner was dismissed. +</p> + +<p> +He had, he said, some work to do that night, and left her alone in the +drawing-room, and for once she did not find time hanging very heavily +upon her hands. Ordinarily the prospect of an evening spent alone +would have seemed intolerably dull, but she had so much to think +about, so many perspectives to adjust, that she rather welcomed her +solitude. +</p> + +<p> +Even at so short a distance of time, her experience with Fabrian +Gilder seemed grotesquely unreal. Perhaps she was still numb from the +shock of it, for, going over that unpleasant feature incident by +incident, she could be neither angry nor amused. Perhaps she was a +little afraid—she still felt the pressure of his strong hands upon +her, still saw the gray fires that burnt in his eyes. And Dick—how +natural it had been to go to him—how safe she had felt! Would it have +been the same if Harry Chelford had providentially arrived? She was +sure in her mind that she would not have run to Harry, or found +comfort in his encircling arms. +</p> + +<p> +She looked at the clock; it was ten minutes after nine. Dick would be +back at Fossaway Manor by now, and she went out into the hall and, +taking off the receiver of the telephone, gave a number. +</p> + +<p> +Arthur’s study door opened into the hall, and he came out. +</p> + +<p> +“To whom are you telephoning?” he asked suspiciously. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m calling up Fossaway Manor,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going to invite Dick Alford over, are you?” he demanded +resentfully. +</p> + +<p> +Before she could reply, he heard the ring of a bell in the servants’ +quarters and she ran to the door. Through the glass panel she saw the +gleam of a white shirt-front on the unlighted porch, and switched on +the lights. It was Dick, and, with an oath, Arthur Gwyn flung back +into his room and slammed the door. He had hoped that Dick had +forgotten his threat to call that night. +</p> + +<p> +“Enter, Richard of Chelford!” said the girl dramatically, as she threw +open the door. “I was just ’phoning to you. I’m bored to extinction +and I want amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +Which was not true. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t feel at all amusing,” said Dick, as he closed the door and +hung up his cap on the hat-rack. +</p> + +<p> +She took him by the arm and led him into the drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur is invisible to-night; he is working very hard. He doesn’t +approve of you, and you hardly approve of him, so we sha’n’t be +interrupted! Dick, it was lovely of you to arrive as you did this +afternoon.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gilder proposed to you, I understand?” said Dick quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he tell you?” She fetched a long sigh. “Yes; I was amazed. I +suppose it was very complimentary, but why did he do it in such a +great hurry, do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick took a cigarette from the box she offered him and lit it before +he replied. +</p> + +<p> +“That is exactly what I’ve come to discover,” he said. “I feel rather +like a grand inquisitor, but I must know.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I can’t tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +She was acting. He knew that her one object was to turn him from an +interview with her brother, and she in turn knew that her efforts +would be in vain. +</p> + +<p> +“You had no hint of this precious proposal in advance? Arthur told you +nothing?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; Arthur couldn’t possibly have known. He told me that Mr. Gilder +wanted us to see his new flat, and although it was a great bore going +out to tea with somebody one doesn’t know, I went——” +</p> + +<p> +“To oblige Arthur, of course?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she insisted; “you must credit me with a reasonable amount of +feminine curiosity. Bachelors’ establishments intrigue me. Your one +drawback, from my point of view, is that you’ve only a poky little +office and, I presume, a wretched little servant’s bedroom.” +</p> + +<p> +“For a second son I’m rather well off,” said Dick with a quizzical +smile. “You are sure Arthur didn’t give you any forewarning of this +proposal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely sure. He was as much astonished as I was.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you discussed it with him?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I spoke about it in the car on the way down, and Arthur was +rather—astonished.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only astonished—not furious?” +</p> + +<p> +“He may have been furious, too. Arthur doesn’t carry his heart on his +sleeve.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should imagine not,” said Dick drily, and then: “Will you ask him +if I can see him for five minutes?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with troubled eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going to quarrel, are you, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m going to ask him a question or two. You realize that I’m +entitled to know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you ‘entitled’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think I am?” he asked gently. +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes went up to his for a second, and then dropped, as she read +something there that thrilled and hurt her. Without a word she went +out into the hall and knocked at Arthur’s door. +</p> + +<p> +“What does he want? I can’t be bothered to-night,” said Arthur Gwyn +fretfully. “What a fellow he is for interrupting people when they’re +busy!” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’d better see him, Arthur,” she said, and added: “And get +it over.” +</p> + +<p> +He shot a quick glance at her. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean—get what over?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Whatever there is to get over,” said Leslie quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Arthur looked down at the picturesque confusion of papers that covered +his library table. +</p> + +<p> +“All right, shoot him in,” he said ungraciously. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch17"> +XVII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">He did</span> not attempt to rise from his chair when Dick entered, closing +the door behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, will you, Alford? Leslie tells me you want to see me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie need not have given you that message. I’d already told you +this afternoon that I would come to you for an explanation.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of the unpleasant happening at Gilder’s flat. This man proposed to +your sister—you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie told me,” said the other, after a moment’s silence. +</p> + +<p> +“And you were annoyed, one supposes? You will dismiss this clerk of +yours to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +The other leaned back in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why I should,” he said coolly. “After all, it’s no crime +for any man to propose to a pretty girl. Of course, he’s not the sort +of fellow I should choose for a brother-in-law, but if brothers had to +choose husbands for their sisters, you know, Alford, there would be +some very queer marriages!” +</p> + +<p> +“What is his pull?” asked Dick quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t——” +</p> + +<p> +“What is his hold on you?” +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just what I say. You would never tolerate a man like Gilder paying +attentions to your sister, apart from the insult he offered to a +prospective Countess of Chelford, unless he had such a grip on you +that all your natural indignation was crushed by the fear of some +consequence he held over your head.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn found it difficult to control his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear fellow, how very melodramatic!” he scoffed. “Hold over me! +You must have been studying the latest Drury Lane play! Naturally, I +would rather see Leslie married to your brother, but I certainly would +put no obstacle in her way if her heart was set elsewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“On Gilder, in fact?” +</p> + +<p> +“On Gilder,” nodded Arthur gravely, as though the matter had been the +subject of deep thought and much self-communion. +</p> + +<p> +And then Dick Alford asked a question that brought the man to his +feet, white and shaking. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it the question of the bills?” +</p> + +<p> +“The—the what?” faltered the lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“The four bills which were supposed to be backed by my brother—the +signatures being forgeries. I thought you knew that I had seen them. +They were shown to me at the bank, and fortunately I did not disclaim +them—fortunately for you, I mean. When I went to see them again they +were taken up. I presume Mr. Fabrian Gilder redeemed them. That would +have cost him a little over five thousand pounds, and I presume he did +not do that out of sheer altruism.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn’s mouth was dry; he could scarcely articulate. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know until to-day,” he muttered. “Harry was ill at the time. +The money was due to me for—for—legal costs. I went down to the bank +to take them up and found they had been honoured.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was that the pull?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not meet the steady gaze that was fixed on him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, that was the pull, if you want to know. You don’t suppose I’d +allow Leslie to marry a swine like Gilder unless—unless he had +something on me, do you? Can’t you understand my position, Alford? I’m +ruined! That fellow could send me to jail—he still can.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Fire him to-morrow,” he said. “If he produces the bills I will +undertake that Harry will acknowledge the signatures.” +</p> + +<p> +The pink came back to the colourless face of the lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll do this?” he said eagerly. “My God! you don’t know what a +weight you’ve lifted off my mind. You’re a brick, by jove! I’ll fire +him to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +He held out an eager hand and Dick took it with some hesitation. At +the best of times Arthur Gwyn did not impress him; at this moment, +almost incoherent with relief, he seemed a pitiful coward. +</p> + +<p> +“I will pay Harry every penny. I have something on the stocks now that +will bring me in a fortune, that will wipe out all my debts and put me +on my feet again.” +</p> + +<p> +There was humour in the situation; for the thing which was to +rehabilitate his fortunes was no less than the barefaced robbery of +Harry Chelford’s inheritance! But Arthur was not conscious of the +irony of the position. He would deal with Gilder in the morning. Thank +God he had not gone still deeper into the mire! The knowledge that in +his pocketbook was another bill as yet unuttered, did not cool the +glow of virtue he was experiencing. Henceforth he would walk the +straight way. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s one thing you could do for me, Alford—hurry along that +marriage. Fix it for next month if you can. Leslie is just a foolish +girl, she is trying to put off the inevitable, but that’s natural, +isn’t it? Can’t you buck up Harry——” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford looked at him steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“The matter must be left entirely to Leslie,” he said, and there was +something very definite and final in those words. +</p> + +<p> +They came out of the library together; Leslie waiting, a little +fearful, saw the smile on her brother’s face and breathed a sigh of +thankfulness. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going?” Dick was reaching for his cap. +</p> + +<p> +“I have to get back to the house,” he said, and, seeing her look of +disappointment, he stood irresolutely. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along in and play mah-jongg. I am in a mah-jongg mood,” said +Arthur, almost jovially. +</p> + +<p> +If there was one thing that Dick could not endure that night it was to +sit vis-à-vis with Arthur Gwyn. He would have liked to stay with the +girl, but for the moment her brother seemed an inevitable third. And +he was terribly informative. Arthur was in his most expansive mood. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is something that will interest you!” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed to the wall. Hanging against a dark wooden shield was an +iron dagger—black and sinister, the handle worn smooth, the long +blade notched and jagged. Dick had seen it before. +</p> + +<p> +“That should be at your place, Alford. The veritable dagger of the +veritable Black Abbot’s slayer—Hubert of Redruth! Look at his arms on +the hilt.…” +</p> + +<p> +“I have seen it,” said Dick shortly. “Put on your coat and come for a +walk, Leslie,” he suggested, and the obliging Arthur, who would have +been agreeable to any scheme he propounded, seconded the suggestion. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch18"> +XVIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> night was cool and dark. There was a full moon, visible at +intervals through the drift of clouds. Leslie slipped her arm into his +as they walked down the dark avenue toward the road. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you quarrel?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“N-no, we didn’t quarrel,” said Dick. “There was a little plain +speaking, but I think it cleared the air, and, after all, that was +what I came for. He is dismissing Gilder to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +She was silent at this, and did not speak again until they were on the +road. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that wise?” she asked. “I’m a little afraid of the man. I feel he +would be a very bad enemy.” +</p> + +<p> +She heard his soft laugh and felt reassured. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s that all right,” said Dick; “the worst enemy any man could have, +I should imagine. But an enemy is only dangerous in ratio to his +hurting power. I don’t think Mr. Gilder will hurt anybody.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not Arthur?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not Arthur, and certainly not you.” +</p> + +<p> +She squeezed his arm in hers. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d be a wonderful brother,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” he said curtly, and she smiled in the darkness. “Your handsome +relative asked me to persuade you to marry next month, and I told him +point-blank that I would do nothing of the kind. Leslie, do you know +that you never see Harry from one week-end to another?” +</p> + +<p> +She had realized that for a long time, and it was a constant subject +for self-reproach that she had less and less desire for her fiancé’s +society. +</p> + +<p> +“He is really not interested in me, Dick,” she said. “Harry is so +absorbed in his treasure hunt and his queer chase after the elixir of +life——” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s told you that, has he?” asked Dick quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course!” she scoffed. “Do you know, Dick, he has almost +convinced me that there is something in his idea?” +</p> + +<p> +She waited for him to reply. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the Life Water… perhaps there is.” +</p> + +<p> +“And in the treasure?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Maybe. Generations of Chelfords have hunted for that wretched gold, +and I suppose in the past four hundred years almost as much money has +been spent in the search as the treasure is worth! I’m perfectly sure +in my own mind that Good Queen Bess of pious memory bagged every bar +of it!” +</p> + +<p> +“And I’m perfectly sure she didn’t,” was the surprising reply. “I’ve +been reading Elizabethan history very carefully, and the year that +your ancestor hid his gold was the year that the Queen was so +hard-pressed for money that she had to borrow from the Lombards.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely. And if you weren’t such a sceptic and would read a little +more, you would know what any schoolchild could tell you, that in 1582 +the Queen was broke. Do you object to that vulgar word?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a familiar one at any rate,” he laughed. +</p> + +<p> +They had reached the deep cutting, and he turned to the left, opened a +gate, and they walked up a little path toward the ruins of Chelford +Abbey. +</p> + +<p> +The moon was showing through a rift in the clouds. +</p> + +<p> +“You ought to see the Abbey by moonlight, if you’ve never seen it. +It’s rather beautiful,” he said, as he gave her a hand to assist her +up the steep path. +</p> + +<p> +As they came in sight of the broken walls and towers of this ancient +place of peace, something of the solemnity of the scene entered her +heart, and she stood still, looking spellbound upon the wreckage of a +once great abbey. The Abbey ruins stood on the broadest surface of +what was locally known as the Mound—the high embankment which ran +almost from Fossaway Abbey to the road, following the course of the +little Ravensrill. Here, if tradition spoke the truth, a place of +sacrifice had stood, before the English church had risen in flint, +before the Norman monks laid chisel to stone on their great abbey. +</p> + +<p> +The moon softened and idealized the broken stonework, and in her mind +she went back through the years to those ancient times when the +black-robed figures of the monks moved where she now stood. Below, to +the left, she could see the fret of sparkling silver where the moon +reflected in the Ravensrill. Here they had sat, these ancient men, +with their fishing-rods, discussing the little events of their narrow +world. They had passed into dust, and this great abbey, the pride of +their eyes and the work of their hands, was crumbling rapidly into +like nothingness. +</p> + +<p> +“It is wonderful!” she breathed. +</p> + +<p> +Were her eyes deceiving her? She could have sworn she saw something +moving in the shadow of the old tower. He heard the quick intake of +her breath. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know—my imagination, I think. I thought I saw somebody +moving there.” +</p> + +<p> +He followed the direction of her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“There would be nobody here at this time of the night, unless it is +the Black Abbot,” he said jocularly, “and we’re not scared of him, are +we?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not, for one,” she said, with a firmness that she was far from +feeling. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment she heard something—something that turned her blood to +water. It was a low moan of anguish, a sobbing diminuendo of sound +that began on a high note and wailed down the scale until it was +inaudible. +</p> + +<p> +“What was that?” she asked, grasping his arm. +</p> + +<p> +He did not speak; he was straining his eyes toward the shadows. +</p> + +<p> +Again the sound, this time a wail that ended in a scream. He caught +the girl by the shoulder. At that moment he had seen a figure moving +away from the Abbey toward the river. A tall, black figure that showed +clearly in the moonlight. She saw it, too. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t leave me, Dick!” she begged, as she felt him strain away from +her. +</p> + +<p> +Then of a sudden she felt his tension relax. +</p> + +<p> +“Let him go,” he said, half to himself. +</p> + +<p> +She clung to him desperately, frantically, as the figure stumbled and +staggered toward the trees that would presently engulf him. The +dreadful Thing ran on, stopping now and again to turn and gibber and +mouth at the man and the woman who stood motionless on the edge of the +cutting. Waving wild arms, now howling in dreadful glee, now screaming +in senseless fear, it vanished in the dark of the wood—an obscene, +uncleanly thing, that belonged to bad dreams and the horrid imaginings +of madness. Far away in the distance came the howl of him, and then +the night swallowed him up. +</p> + +<p> +“How dreadful!” +</p> + +<p> +And then her knees gave under her and she remembered no more. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch19"> +XIX +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Leslie</span> opened her eyes and frowned up into the face that was bent +over her. She was lying on the verge of the road, for Dick had carried +her down into the cutting and a hundred yards toward Willow House. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, how awful!” she shuddered, and closed her eyes. “It was the Black +Abbot?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford did not reply for a while. His anxiety for the girl was +such that all other interests had passed from his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“I am all right now,” she said, and, with his assistance, stood +shakily on her feet. “I told you I was a fool. This is my crazy day! +Dick, what was it?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was too far away from me to see,” said Dick; “probably one of our +stupid villagers under the influence of drink.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it was not that, Dick! It was——” She shuddered again. “I think +I’d better go home.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’d be wise,” he said gravely. “I wish I hadn’t brought you +out now.” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed a little shakily and clung to him tighter. +</p> + +<p> +“In a way I’m glad you did,” she said, as they walked slowly toward +her home. “Dick, I had all sorts of queer dreams: just before I woke +up I felt somebody kiss me. It was so convincing that I can still feel +the lips on my cheek.” +</p> + +<p> +“I kissed you,” he said, without shame. “I thought the shock would +bring you to life!” +</p> + +<p> +Her laughter was almost hysterical, for Leslie’s nerves were jangled +and on edge. +</p> + +<p> +“You might at least have denied that,” she said. “Dick, you have no +subtlety!” +</p> + +<p> +As they walked slowly toward the house, she noticed that he looked +back once or twice. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not expecting that—that thing to follow us, are you?” she +asked, her teeth chattering. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I thought I heard a car” (which was true). “I’ll swear I saw a +haze of light over the crest of the road, but I must have been +mistaken.” +</p> + +<p> +He was not mistaken, and knew it. A car had been following them, had +been slowly ascending the hill to the cutting; he had seen the +reflected rays from the lamps distinctly, and had heard the soft purr +of engines. What was more certain than anything else, the car could +not have turned in that narrow road, so that the only explanation was +that the unknown driver had switched off his lights and stopped his +machine. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me look at you.” He turned her to the moonlight and lifted her +face. “I don’t know whether you’re horribly pale or whether it’s a +trick of the moon,” he said, “but you look mighty ill: You had better +go straight to bed, preferably without seeing your brother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” she asked, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want this spook story to get around, for one thing,” he said. +“And for another—oh well, the other doesn’t matter.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie realized that she was walking at a much slower pace than her +physical weakness justified. She was still a little shaky, but in +every sense had recovered from the shock. Too sane to believe in +ghosts, she had, nevertheless, been shaken by the terrible experience. +She leaned heavily on Dick’s arm as they paced up the avenue to the +house, turning on to the grass that Arthur should not hear their +footsteps and come out to give them a boisterous welcome. Presently, +with a sigh, she dropped his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad I went out,” she said, in a low voice. “And I’m rather +glad——” She did not finish the sentence. +</p> + +<p> +The silence that followed was a little disturbing for both of them. +Suddenly she faced him. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, do you want me to marry your brother?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you—really?” +</p> + +<p> +She heard his sigh in the dark. She could not see his face, for they +stood in the shadow of a great cedar immediately before the house. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” he said. There was a bleakness in his voice she had +heard once before. “It isn’t a question of my liking. I can offer you +no reason why you should not marry him. You must do what you want, +Leslie. The decision must rest entirely with you—and if I were a +praying man, I would spend the night praying that you did right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you wish me to marry him?” she asked again. +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell you.” His voice was hard, and there swept over her a +wave of unreasonable anger and resentment against his detachment. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t ask you that question again,” she said, her voice trembling. +“Good-night, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +She ran into the hall and up to her room, and long after she had gone, +he stood where she had left him, looking wistfully at the door which +had closed upon her. +</p> + +<p> +With something like despair at his heart, Dick Alford walked quickly +along the road toward Fontwell Cutting. He had something to distract +his mind for the moment. +</p> + +<p> +There was no sign of the car, and, instead of passing through the +cutting gates, he continued over the brow of the hill. +</p> + +<p> +When he went out at night he invariably carried a small flash lamp (he +kept a supply of them at the house, for his electric supply had a +trick of failing at inconvenient moments) and this he took from his +pocket, and, switching on, threw the light on the road, sweeping the +beam from side to side. This was not a main thoroughfare, and, except +his own and Gwyn’s car, and an occasional tradesman’s Ford, there was +little traffic. He saw the diamond-shaped impress of Arthur Gwyn’s +Rolls, could pick out his own little machine, and presently he saw a +new track: the track of tires with an arrow-shaped tread. He could +distinguish the exact spot at which it had stopped. Apparently the +driver had made no attempt to turn, but had gone backward some +distance. He followed the trail till it curved round, apparently into +an open field. The wagon gate was closed, but on the loamy earth the +mark of wheels was very apparent. +</p> + +<p> +Red Farm! thought Dick, and, opening the gate, he went into the field. +His search was a very short one, for the deserted car was parked close +under the hedge parallel with the road. All the lights were out, but +the radiator was still hot. He examined the machine carefully; it bore +a London number and was new: an American touring car, replete with all +the gadgets of its kind. He made a careful note of the number and, +walking back to the gate, sat on the top rail and waited. +</p> + +<p> +His vigil was not a protracted one. From where he sat he could see +over the swelling hill the top curve of the Abbey arch, and five +minutes after he had taken up his position he saw a figure silhouetted +against the skyline cross the brow and descend the hill toward him. +</p> + +<p> +Fossaway Park was enclosed in a large-meshed wire net fence, which +offered no obstacle to any person who wished to surmount it; but the +stranger had evidently not reconnoitred the ground very thoroughly, +for Dick heard the clang of the wire as some heavy object struck +against it, a curse, and presently he could discern a figure climbing +over the wide mesh and drop into the road. +</p> + +<p> +For a few seconds it was out of sight, and then he saw it again, +silhouetted against the white of the road. Nearer and nearer it came. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-evening, Mr. Gilder,” said Dick politely. “Are you seeing the +sights of Chelfordbury?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder started violently and almost dropped the heavy stick he was +carrying. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” he stammered. “Who the dickens are you?” +</p> + +<p> +A beam of light shot suddenly from his hand and focussed the +questioner. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you!” said Gilder, taking a long breath. “Gosh! you scared me! I +was just admiring your old ruins by moonlight. They’re rather fine.” +</p> + +<p> +“On behalf of the ruins, I thank you,” said Dick, with elaborate +courtesy. “Any nice things that you can say about Chelford Abbey are +deeply appreciated by its present owner.” +</p> + +<p> +The man was disconcerted and obviously ill at ease. +</p> + +<p> +“I left my car in the field; I thought it might get in the way of +traffic——” he began. +</p> + +<p> +“The traffic around here between ten and midnight is not very +numerous,” said Dick; “but if you have the illusion that Red Farm is +your property, it is quite understandable that your car should be +parked there. What is the game, Gilder?” +</p> + +<p> +He was conscious that the man’s eyes were peering at him. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you mean by ‘game.’ Is it unlawful to admire a +moonlight view?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is unlawful to trespass on my brother’s property,” said Dick. “May +I repeat my question: What is the game?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand you. Do you mind letting me get through that gate? +I am going home.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford descended from the gate slowly and pushed it open. +</p> + +<p> +“You are a suspicious character, Gilder.” +</p> + +<p> +The man snapped round at him. +</p> + +<p> +“What the devil do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just what I say. You are a suspicious character. It is very +suspicious to find you loafing around Fossaway Park at this hour of +the night, particularly after certain things which have happened +recently.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think I am the Black Abbot?” sneered the man, and Dick’s +chuckle came from the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“There are many interesting possibilities about you, Gilder. What did +you expect to find in the Abbey?” +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you I was merely admiring the view by moonlight. If that is an +offence you can bring me before a bench of magistrates.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick, his hands in his pockets, stood watching the man as he switched +on the lights of the car and started it. +</p> + +<p> +“The place to admire the ruins is from the crest of the hill, not from +the ruin itself,” he said. “If you had been a normal admirer you would +never have been out of sight. May I also suggest that it wasn’t +necessary to switch off your lights or to hide your car—the best view +of the Abbey is from the upper road. Gilder, you had better be +careful.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that a threat?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a warning,” said Dick. “And a man as clever as you would not +lightly despise such a warning. By the way, my solicitors are starting +an action to-morrow to set aside your agreement with Farmer Leonard. I +am hoping that you will not involve yourself in the expense of +defending the action.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a matter that I shall discuss with your lawyers,” said +Gilder, as he started the car. +</p> + +<p> +Dick watched the machine as it waddled over the furrows and turned on +to the road, and followed it out, closing the gate behind it. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know anything about racing, Gilder?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder turned with a jerk. Was this man privy to his secrets? +</p> + +<p> +“I know a little—why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know what a warning-off notice is?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder stared at him open-mouthed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is a notice issued by the Jockey Club warning people off +Newmarket Heath.” +</p> + +<p> +“Splendid!” said Dick. “Will you take a warning-off notice from me? I +warn you off Willow House and all that is contained therein!” +</p> + +<p> +“And if I don’t accept the warning?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll be sorry, as I’ve remarked before,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Gilder jammed in his clutch and the car jerked forward with a whine, +and soon its tail lights had disappeared round the end of the road. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch20"> +XX +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> Second Son climbed the fence, though the gate was near enough, +and, passing the Abbey ruins, walked briskly toward Fossaway Manor. +His way brought him past the wing of the house in which his brother’s +library was situated. One of the big leaded windows was open and he +caught a glimpse of Harry at his desk, sitting in the half light, his +head on his hands, a book before him. Dick sighed and continued on his +way. +</p> + +<p> +Thomas, the footman, answered the bell he rang. +</p> + +<p> +“Get me some coffee and biscuits. I shall be working late,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +When the man had gone, he went to his desk and unlocked the post bag +that had come up from the station that night and shook out a heap of +letters. He sorted them over carefully, and, selecting one, opened it. +The letter bore the Royal crest and the plain address “New Scotland +Yard,” and was from an old school friend of his: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dear Dick</span>: +</p> + +<p> +Thank you for your rather extraordinary letter, but I am afraid we can +do nothing for you officially. Private detectives, of course, are punk +for your purpose, and the best I can do for you is as follows. We have +a detective sergeant at headquarters named Puttler—you may have seen +his name in connection with the Hatton Garden robbery. He’s a very +efficient man and marked for promotion, but rather a weird-looking +bird. At the Yard we call him “Monkey Puttler,” though he is +universally liked in spite of this unflattering sobriquet. Puttler +never takes any kind of holiday, and is generally supposed to spend +his spare time in criminal investigation and to sleep in an odd corner +of the Yard. He is entitled to six weeks’ holiday leave. Of course, in +ordinary circumstances he would never dream of taking six minutes, but +I have had a talk with him, and with the complete approval of our +chief (it was necessary to tell him what you wanted) Puttler will +spend his holiday at Fossaway Manor. As I said before, he is rather a +queer-looking creature, a rabid teetotaller, a strong churchman, with +violent views on church music. You can rely absolutely upon his +discretion. I’ve told him that you will pay him ten pounds a week and +all his expenses. I only wish I could let you have him permanently, +but I trust that in six weeks your trouble will be cleared up. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Dick put the letter carefully in his inside pocket, and, walking +across the hall, went into the library. Lord Chelford heard the door +close and looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Dick!” he said, quite amiably. “What is the news?” +</p> + +<p> +Before he answered, Dick Alford walked to the window through which he +had seen his brother, pulled it close, and fastened the lock. +</p> + +<p> +“What is wrong?” growled Chelford. +</p> + +<p> +“Our monkish friend has been seen,” he said, “and I think it advisable +that your window should be kept closed.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry Chelford’s hand went up to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t we do anything with that fellow?” he asked fretfully. “Where +are the police? What do we pay them for? It’s monstrous that the +countryside should be terrified by… Really, Dick, couldn’t you do +something?” +</p> + +<p> +“The police are doing everything that can be done,” Dick replied. +</p> + +<p> +He charged his pipe carefully and lit it with a match which he took +from a silver container on Harry’s table. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been over to see Leslie,” he said. “Put away that infernal book +and talk.” +</p> + +<p> +With evident reluctance Lord Chelford closed the thick tome over which +he had been poring and leaned back in his chair with an air of +resignation. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie? I don’t see very much of her,” he said. “She’s a very +intelligent girl and knows how busy I am. Not every woman would show +so much understanding. Did you see Arthur?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I had a ’phone message saying that he was coming over in the morning. +He wants me to sign some documents in connection with Leslie’s +estate—good fellow, Arthur.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” said Dick, without a trace of sarcasm in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I owe a lot to Arthur.” Harry looked up through his horn-rimmed +spectacles and nodded as he spoke. “I shouldn’t have met Leslie, and +certainly I shouldn’t have had any idea of marrying,” he went on +naïvely, “but Arthur was very keen to get a husband for her who +wasn’t a fortune-hunter. And of course, the money will be useful.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick listened patiently to this disjointed explanation for the +forthcoming marriage. He had heard it before in identically the same +terms. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you want to marry money at all?” he asked. “We’re not +paupers.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry Chelford shrugged his thin shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose we’re not,” he said indifferently. “I never bother about +the money side. You’re such a clever old bird, Dick, that I’m spared +that. By heavens, I don’t know where I should be if it wasn’t for you. +Do you get all you want yourself, Dicky?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“A nice girl,” his brother went on, “and, as I say, a sensible girl. I +wish you’d get her over to dinner one night; there are several things +I want to talk about to Arthur. There’s the Doncaster estate, for +example. I had a letter from somebody the other day, saying that they +were willing to pay a very big price for Creethorpes. I don’t see any +reason in the world why we shouldn’t sell.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I do,” said Dick, puffing slowly at his pipe. “I also have had +the offer, and when I get one that approximates to my eyes as being +near the Creethorpes value, we may sell. But the price that has been +offered is ludicrous.” +</p> + +<p> +“A hundred and twenty thousand pounds?” murmured Lord Chelford, +shaking his head disparagingly. “I don’t see how you can improve on +that, Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“We can try,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes were roaming the desk, and after a while he saw a book which +was seldom far away from his brother’s hand, and, getting up, he +reached over and took it, Chelford watching with a triumphant smile. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s got you, has it, old man?” he asked. “I thought it would sooner +or later. You’re too sensible to dismiss the Chelford treasure as a +myth.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick turned the old pages covered with pale writing: the diary of that +lord of Chelford who had suffered for his disloyalty at the hands of +the common headman. +</p> + +<p> +The idea had come to him in the middle of the previous night, and all +that day the old diary had come in and out of his mind at odd and +incongruous moments. Whilst it was not true that he had been won over +to his brother’s faith in the existence of the treasure, his curiosity +had been piqued by a vague recollection of one line in the diary. He +turned it up now and read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +These ingots he shall put away in the safe place if yet the weather be +dry and the drought continue, though rain is near at hand.… +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“I am only wondering,” he said, as he handed back the book, “what +effect the drought had upon the hiding place; why rain would have +spoilt his plan, as apparently it would.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ha-ha!” said his lordship, almost boisterously. “The poison is +working, Richard! You will become as ardent a treasure-hunter as I. +Shall I tell you where the gold was hidden?” He leaned forward, his +elbows on the table, his eyes gleaming. “In a cave, or an underground +chamber of some kind. There are three references in this diary to a +chesil.” He turned the pages rapidly. “Listen, here is one,” he said, +and read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“This day Tom Goodman brought me the chesil from Brighthelmstone.…” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“Which is Brighton, I presume?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +His brother nodded, turning the pages. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is another reference,” he said. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +“The new chesil has come. I have left it near the place and those dull +wights who see it will know little of its value to me.” +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Dick smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“It must have been something remarkable in the way of chesils,” he +said. “It doesn’t mention its size or its shape?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nowhere; I have searched the diary for that.” +</p> + +<p> +There came a tap at the door; it was Thomas. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you have your coffee here, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, put it in my room.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you working to-night, Dick?” asked Chelford. +</p> + +<p> +“After you’ve gone to bed, Harry,” said Dick, with a laugh, “and I +think it is about time you went. One of these days you’ll have a +breakdown and I’ll have to call in your pet abomination.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ugh!” shivered Chelford. “Never bring a doctor into this house—I +loathe them!” +</p> + +<p> +He got up, stretched himself with a yawn, and Dick followed him out of +the room. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall sleep well to-night,” said his lordship, pushing back his +long black hair with a characteristic gesture. “If I’d only known of +that stuff before!” +</p> + +<p> +“What stuff is this?” asked Dick good-humouredly. +</p> + +<p> +Never a day passed that some new patent medicine did not come into the +house, some cure-all, accompanied by pages of closely printed +literature. Lord Chelford’s patent-medicine habit was a vicious +circle. The literature of one cure-all revealed symptoms of which he +had never been conscious before. No sooner had he settled upon a +miraculous nostrum than it was superseded by one even more dazzling in +its promises. +</p> + +<p> +Dick followed him up the stairs into the long room where he spent the +few hours he could tear himself away from his library. A four-poster +bed, an old dressing chest, a deep closet in which his scanty wardrobe +hung, and a very long table, the surface of which was literally +covered with bottles and small boxes, comprised the furniture of his +room, with the exception of a battered armchair before the fireplace. +There must have been more than a hundred boxes and packages on the +table. Some of these came in consequence of standing orders given +years before and never countermanded: these had never been opened. +There were cures for asthma, for bronchitis, for rheumatism, +marvellous liniments, amazing sleep-inducers, nerve tonics—every +disease to which the human system is liable had its antidote in that +collection. +</p> + +<p> +By the side of his bed on a small table was a jug of hot water and a +glass. Chelford opened a tin chosen from the medley of bottles and +boxes, took out two small white pellets and dropped them into a glass, +covering them with water. He stirred them till they were dissolved, +Dick watching, half amused, half pitiful. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” Chelford put down the glass. “That’s the stuff! No drugs, +Dick—just a mixture of natural elements that bring rest to the tired +brain and sleep to weary eyes!” +</p> + +<p> +“I guess you’re quoting the label,” said Dick, with a laugh. “Even +cocaine is a natural element. And there’s nothing nearer to nature +than morphia. You’re an old goop, Harry, and if I had my way I’d take +all these infernal bottles and dump them into the round pond.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should probably be dead in a month,” said Harry with a smile, as he +began to undress, “and you’d have to stand your trial for wilful +murder!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick closed the door behind him, waited till he heard the bolt shot +home, then went downstairs to his own room. His coffee was waiting and +he began his three-hour task: the opening and answering of letters, +the examination of leaflets and the inspection of bills. There were +checks to be signed, envelopes to be addressed, and it was nearly +three o’clock before he rose stiffly, and, pushing open the door of +the French windows, walked out upon the lawn. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch21"> +XXI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">There</span> was a sign of dawn in the sky. The air was sweet and pure and +he drew great breaths of nature’s champagne before he lit his pipe and +strolled noiselessly along the lawn, keeping parallel with the face of +the house. +</p> + +<p> +He had never felt less sleepy, and he was debating in his mind whether +he should take a cold bath and go on with some work that he had left +unfinished on the previous day, when he saw, only for a second, a pin +point of light in the distance. It was a white, star-like flicker that +dawned and disappeared almost instantly. +</p> + +<p> +“If that isn’t a flash lamp I’m a Dutchman,” he muttered, went back +into his room, and, taking down a shotgun, slipped a handful of +cartridges into the pocket of his dinner jacket. +</p> + +<p> +There had been a number of poaching affrays in the neighbourhood, and +the unknown poachers were a desperate gang who had never hesitated to +shoot. Dick felt it best to be on the safe side, and, with the gun +under his arm and two shells rammed home into the breech, he strolled +across to where he had seen the light. +</p> + +<p> +It is a fact that Dick Alford had no constitutional objection to +poachers. His views on the subject had shocked many a hoary-headed +country justice, for Dick held to the line that it was pardonable for +any man to “shoot for the cooking pot,” and to him poaching was a mild +joke. +</p> + +<p> +The house and surrounding trees obstructed his view, but a +five-minutes’ walk brought him through a thin plantation to the Priory +fields. Now he saw, unless his judgment was at fault, that the light +must have come from the direction of the Abbey ruins. He stood for ten +minutes in the shadow of a wood, but no light showed. And then, as his +foot was raised to walk forward, he saw it again—just a momentary +flicker, and this time there was no doubt that it came from the Abbey. +No intelligent poacher would waste five minutes on that part of the +estate, though there were trout in the Ravensrill, and the burrows of +a few hares in its banks. +</p> + +<p> +He moved forward steadily up the slope of the Mound and soon he could +distinguish the chaos of stone and crumbling walls. The intruder was +no expert burglar, for again the light flickered. Was it Gilder, he +wondered, as he followed the course of the little river. Had that +sinister man returned to admire the view of the Abbey by moonlight? +The east was turning gray; the cold morning wind had freshened; but +though he wore only a thin dinner suit, Dick did not feel the cold. +Stealthily he climbed to the top of the Mound, pausing to take +observation. +</p> + +<p> +Again the light, this time not fifty yards away, and he could make out +the figure of a man moving slowly amidst the broken walls. He was +searching the ground diligently. +</p> + +<p> +“Lost anything?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The visitor spun round with a startled cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo! Who are you?” he asked hoarsely, and Dick recognized the +voice. +</p> + +<p> +It was Arthur Gwyn! +</p> + +<p> +A painful and embarrassing moment for Arthur Gwyn! +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” he said awkwardly. “I couldn’t sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“Were you looking for an opiate?” asked Dick politely. “You should +have come up to the house; my brother has a small drug store, and we +might have been able to find you something for your insomnia.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be amusing,” growled Arthur, thrown off his balance. “What I +meant was, I couldn’t sleep so I came out for a walk. This place +interests me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never knew you were an archæologist before, and a midnight +archæologist at that! The country simply swarms with ’em!” said the +ironical young man. “Or perhaps you’re a moth hunter? Or did you come +out to hear the nightingale? It’s rather late in the season.” +</p> + +<p> +“See here, Alford, I don’t want you to get funny at my expense. I tell +you I came out for a walk. You’re not going to suggest I’m +trespassing, are you? If it comes to that, what are <i>you</i> doing here?” +</p> + +<p> +He heard Dick chuckle and went hot under the collar. +</p> + +<p> +“I am attached to the estate: I thought you knew that,” said Dick at +last; “and one of my jobs is to challenge suspicious-looking +individuals at whatever hour they show themselves or their flash +lamps.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you saw the light, did you? I thought somebody would.” Arthur was +himself again. “The truth is, Dick, I had a horrible dream that woke +me up. I dreamt I saw that wretched Black Abbot, and the dream was so +vivid that I resolved to come along and have a look at the place. It +was on the edge of the cutting that he was last seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, a ghost-hunter!” murmured Dick. “That of course explains +everything. You came armed, I see? Very wise!” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur had been praying that this objectionable man would not notice +the steel crowbar he carried, but the eyes of the other were +peculiarly sharp, and there was just enough dawn light to reveal the +nature of the instrument he carried. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t see the Black Abbot, I suppose?” said Dick, in his polite +conversational way. “No? I shouldn’t imagine you would. It’s rather +late for him. Our family ghosts keep early hours. They are a +respectable lot, and the Abbot, as you probably know, was a highly +respectable and even a religious man, though not, I believe, untouched +by the horrid voice of scandal.” +</p> + +<p> +He was walking by Arthur’s side to the cut road as he spoke, and the +light was not good enough for him to see the dull flush that came to +that good-looking man’s face, but he could guess it. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to quarrel with you, Alford, but I have the greatest +objection to your being sarcastic at my expense. I don’t know why I +should explain anything to you, but you’ve been a good friend of mine +to-night and I’m telling you the truth. And really, it’s hardly +playing the game to doubt my word.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick said nothing to this, but poised himself watchfully on the edge +of the cut, until the ruffled man had disappeared from sight. What was +the meaning of all this? he wondered. What attraction had the Abbey +ruins for these strangely assorted people? First Mary Wenner, then +Gilder, and now Arthur Gwyn. What was there about these ancient stones +which would bring the fastidious lawyer from his bed to make an +early-morning search? He knew Arthur rather well, much better in fact +than he guessed. He hated discomfort of all sorts, but here he was, at +four o’clock in the morning, absurdly but suitably attired in a golf +suit of irreproachable pattern, a crowbar in one hand and an electric +torch in the other, turning over the rubbish of the Abbey and +seeking—what? The treasure! +</p> + +<p> +Not till that moment did the solution flash upon Dick Alford, and he +was so overcome that he sat down on the nearest sandstone block and +laughed till the tears came into his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +The treasure! Harry had infected these prosaic people with his +obsession. But how? Obviously, Mary Wenner was the connecting link. +There was a time, he remembered, when she was an enthusiastic seconder +to Harry’s efforts, and believed as implicitly in the existence of +this mythical gold as did her employer. Arthur was a friend of hers: +he had heard them “Arthur” and “Mary” each other; and, through Arthur, +Gilder must have come into the knowledge. So that was the explanation! +And the Chelford treasure was obviously the windfall that Arthur Gwyn +expected. +</p> + +<p> +He was smiling to himself all the way back to the house, until a +thought came into his mind that turned the joke of it. Suppose they +were right and he was wrong? Suppose there was a treasure to be found? +No sooner did the thought occur than he had laughed it out of his +mind. These people merely reflected Harry’s enthusiasm and faith. +</p> + +<p> +He fastened the door of his study and went up to the room that +overlooked the gardens of Fossaway Manor. Immediately opposite his +door was a narrow passageway ending in stairs, as narrow, that led to +the servants’ quarters. As his step sounded on the grand stairway, a +shadowy figure that had been prowling about the corridor slipped into +the narrow entrance and crouched down. Thomas, the footman, saw Dick +go into his room and close the door, and he breathed more freely. He +waited, but he could hear no movement. +</p> + +<p> +Silence reigned in Fossaway Manor. No sound came from the world +outside. In five minutes Dick was lying in a profound slumber. He had +drawn down the blinds that the light should not break his rest, and +the room was in almost complete darkness. +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * +</p> + +<p> +Ordinarily he would have heard a sound, the sound of the floor boards +creaking outside his door, and would have been awake instantly. Twice +the planks creaked under a heavy weight, but he did not stir. And then +the handle of his door turned slowly and the door itself moved the +fraction of an inch. The thing outside listened, showing its white +teeth in a grin. The sound of Dick Alford’s regular breathing came out +to him and he pushed the door open a little farther, and, crouching, +moved stealthily toward the bed, feeling for the brass rail at the +foot. +</p> + +<p> +Not a sound came from the intruder, and yet he was shaking with +laughter. He fumbled in his pocket and took out a long-bladed clasp +knife and opened it carefully, testing the edge with his thumb. Then, +slowly, his long fingers went out to locate the position of the body. +The Angel of Death hovered in that second above the sleeping man. +</p> + +<p> +From the hall below came a woman’s voice—distraught—beside herself +with fear. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick—Dick, for God’s sake!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick turned uneasily in his sleep and half opened his eyes. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch22"> +XXII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Dick</span>!” +</p> + +<p> +It was a girl’s voice, sharp with fear, that came from the hall below. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick!” +</p> + +<p> +The thing with the knife dropped the weapon and, cringing back toward +the door, hesitated a second, and slipped out. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick!” +</p> + +<p> +Again the voice, and Dick woke. Was he dreaming? Slipping out of bed, +he threw open the door and walked on to the landing. +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s calling?” he asked, husky with sleep. +</p> + +<p> +“It is I—Leslie! Dick, I want you.” +</p> + +<p> +He went back to his bedroom, pulled a dressing gown from a hook and +raced down the stairs, dressing as he went. She was standing in the +gloom of the hall, a slim figure. She had no hat; her bare feet were +thrust into slippers, and she wore an overcoat over what was evidently +a hastily assumed skirt. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, dear?” +</p> + +<p> +He pushed open the door of his study and led her in. She was trembling +from head to foot. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. Something dreadful has happened,” she gasped. “I +thought my car would wake you—didn’t you hear it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Something dreadful has happened? What?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I suppose I’ve got everything out of proportion—I saw +Arthur fighting with a man on the lawn. It was dreadful. I thought I +must have been mistaken and went to his room, but the bed was empty +and had not been slept in. By the time I could get downstairs on to +the lawn, they had disappeared. Oh, Dick, what can have happened?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fighting?” He was incredulous. “I saw Arthur—I don’t know how long +ago; it may have been an hour or two. I don’t know how long I’ve been +sleeping.” +</p> + +<p> +It was daylight now; the clock over the mantelpiece showed it to be a +quarter past five. +</p> + +<p> +“Just wait a moment. I’ll be with you in a jiffy.” +</p> + +<p> +He ran up the stairs and in five minutes rejoined her, dressed, and, +lifting her into the car, he sent the little machine flying down the +drive. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you get into the house?” +</p> + +<p> +“I came through your study. I rang the bell at the door, but nobody +answered me. And then I tried your French windows and they were open.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m always forgetting to lock them. I’m glad I did. And they will +never be locked in the future,” said Dick. “Now, just tell me what +happened?” +</p> + +<p> +She told her story coherently. Her very association with this man had +restored her failing courage. And as she grew calmer, she became +penitent. +</p> + +<p> +“What a scare cat you will think I am!” she said ruefully. “I don’t +know what time it was—about half an hour ago, I think—but I was +sleeping when I heard voices. I went to the window and looked out. It +was still rather dark; there are an awful lot of trees before the +house, but I could see two men, and I wouldn’t have known one of them +was Arthur, only I heard him speaking angrily.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear anything he said?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, they were too far away. They were near the laurels that hide the +house from the road. And then I saw Arthur strike the man, and they +began to struggle, and that is all I saw. By the time I’d got +downstairs they had disappeared.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you say you saw him? How could you?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick gave a version of his encounter with the lawyer that was more +flattering to Arthur than was deserved. +</p> + +<p> +“But that couldn’t be true!” she said, in perplexity. “He hadn’t been +to bed at all. What is the meaning of it, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord knows!” said Dick piously. “I wish my friend Puttler were +here.” +</p> + +<p> +The car ran through the cutting and took the long, straight road to +Willow House, they were turning into the drive when Dick saw a man +walking in front of him. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s your Arthur,” he said, and she uttered a little cry of +thankfulness. +</p> + +<p> +It was Arthur with a difference. His nose had been bleeding, his eye +was slightly discoloured. In other circumstances Dick would have +laughed, but the girl was so concerned with her brother’s injuries +that it would have been brutal even to find anything amusing in the +discomfiture of this dandified young lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“It was nothing,” he said gruffly. “I met a poacher and had a slight +argument with him.” +</p> + +<p> +The knees of his new golfing knickers were soiled and torn; the +knuckles of his hand were red and bleeding. Dick felt that it was not +the moment to ask him questions, and followed the brother and sister +into the house, an interested and cautious observer of events. +</p> + +<p> +The servants had been roused and one of them brought some coffee, and +Dick, who had been half dead from sleepiness, accepted the steaming +cup gratefully. +</p> + +<p> +“What <i>do</i> you think has happened, Dick?” she asked, when Arthur had +gone up to his room to treat his injuries, having refused all the +assistance she offered. +</p> + +<p> +“I think he has told us what has happened. He had trouble with a +poacher. In other words, he had a vulgar fight. It is one of those +distressing happenings that the best of men cannot always avoid.” +</p> + +<p> +She shot a suspicious glance at him. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t mean that, Dick. And it couldn’t have been a poacher. I’m +perfectly sure it was Mr. Gilder.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was not prepared to contest this point of view. The probability +of Arthur’s assailant being his head clerk was one that had occurred +to him. But why should Gilder be in the vicinity of Willow House at +that hour of the morning? At a suitable opportunity he would ask +Arthur Gwyn for the truth. +</p> + +<p> +He was conscious that she was looking at him, and, meeting her eyes, +he saw something that made him catch his breath. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I ever do without you?” she asked, with a gesture of +helplessness. “I run to you crying every time I am hurt, and you +appear by magic whenever I’m in trouble! Dick, one of these days I’m +going to be a disgrace to my sex!” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope not, Leslie,” he smiled. “What particularly outrageous thing +have you in mind?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded wisely. +</p> + +<p> +“You will see,” she said. “I also can be mysterious!” +</p> + +<p> +He declined the loan of her car and returned on foot to the house. +Unless Harry’s sleeping draught had taken effect, he would have heard +the car, for his room faced the drive. But no sound came from the +King’s Chamber, as his sleeping apartment was magniloquently termed, +and Dick went to his room and took off his clothes. +</p> + +<p> +He was getting into bed when his foot touched something hard and +shiny, and, stooping, he picked it up. +</p> + +<p> +“Moses!” said Dick under his breath, and switched on the light. +</p> + +<p> +The knife was a new one, its edge razor-sharp. He turned it over and +over in his hand and frowned. Then, walking to the door, he locked it; +and Dick did not usually sleep behind a locked door. But he realized +that the twenty-four hours through which he was passing were pregnant +with unpleasant possibilities. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch23"> +XXIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> office of Gwyn & Gwyn was thrown into some disorder the next +morning by a most unexpected occurrence. Mr. Fabrian Gilder, for the +first time in his twenty-five years’ association with the business, +did not put in an appearance. Instead, came a note to the senior +clerk, asking that a certain drawer in his desk should be opened and +the contents thereof sent by special messenger to Mr. Gilder’s house +in Regent’s Park. There was a postscript to the note. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +It is unlikely that I shall return to the business. I have handed my +resignation to Mr. Gwyn, and intend to devote my time to the +development of my private affairs. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +A wire from Arthur Gwyn appointed the senior clerk to take the place +of the retired Gilder: an arrangement not altogether to the +satisfaction of the senior clerk, for there were unpleasant +whisperings about Gwyn & Gwyn, hints of dire developments to come that +made the older members of the staff quake in their shoes. +</p> + +<p> +Arthur did not appear that day, nor the next, and the mystery of +Gilder’s resignation remained unsolved, for the confidential messenger +who carried his papers to his flat, and who expected to hear from him +the reason for his sudden departure, was not admitted. Mr. Gilder was +in bed; he had come up from the country early in the morning and had +met with a slight accident whilst getting out of his car. Apparently +he had remained awake long enough to write his letter to the office, +but was now sleeping, so the servant said. And she spoke the truth, +though he did not sleep as soundly as he might have done had his lips +not been cut and his shoulder slightly strained. You cannot indulge in +fisticuffs in the uncertain light of dawn without incurring a certain +amount of damage. +</p> + +<p> +Curiosity was not the besetting vice of Dick Alford; even if it had +been, he would not have spared the time to make a call at Gwyn & +Gwyn’s to discover the extent of Mr. Gilder’s damage. He had his bath +and shaved just before lunch, and came downstairs to find that the +noon train had brought him a visitor. +</p> + +<p> +Sergeant Puttler he recognized, though he had never seen him before, +from the description that his friend had sent him. He was a tall, +gaunt man of forty. The tired-looking brown eyes that gazed with +gentle melancholy from their deep sockets reminded him of a sick and +sorrowful chimpanzee he had once seen. His forehead was low, his upper +lip long, and his arms reached almost to his knees. These features, +added to a constitutional stoop, contributed to his unprepossessing +appearance. Poor Mr. Puttler was not unaware of the simian mould in +which his frame was cast, and it was, apparently, a matter which +alternately depressed and pleased him. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, how do you like me?” he said without a smile, though there +was a twinkle of malicious joy in his brown eyes. “I’ve known people +to faint the first time they’ve seen me, especially romantical +people.” +</p> + +<p> +“I sha’n’t faint,” smiled Dick, “possibly because I’m not romantical.” +</p> + +<p> +The footman came in at that moment, and evidently romance tinged his +soul, for at the sight of the strange, long-armed man he visibly +staggered and blinked. +</p> + +<p> +“Take Mr. Puttler up to his room. Afterward, Puttler, come and dine +and I have something to tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +The dazed Thomas led the way up the stairs to a room next door to that +occupied by Dick. The housekeeper had been warned of his coming and +the room was ready. He deposited his suitcase and took stock of his +rather handsome surroundings. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything further I can do, sir?” asked Thomas. +</p> + +<p> +Sergeant Puttler blinked at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, thank you.” And, as Thomas was going: “What do you call +yourself now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Me, sir—my name is Thomas Luck.” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler shook his head sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas Bad Luck,” he said: “William Hard Lines or Henry Too Bad. Does +your master know that your name is Sleisser and that you’ve done a +stretch in Dartmoor?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the man sullenly. +</p> + +<p> +“He will, Thomas—he will,” said the detective gently, and with murder +in his eyes the footman slunk out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Puttler came downstairs purring with satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure that is my room, Mr. Alford?” he asked. “Not expecting +the Prince of Wales, are you? I’ve always been ambitious to sleep in a +four-poster bed.… Now, Mr. Alford.” +</p> + +<p> +“First of all, I must introduce you to my brother. By the way, he is +rather of a nervous disposition, and I’ve told him that you’re a +member of an accountancy firm who has come down to help me with my +books.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Puttler expressed his agreement with this mild form of deception. +He was taken to the big library and formally introduced. Harry +Chelford was so used to the advent of Dick’s extraordinary guests that +he saw nothing unusual in the appearance of the simian Puttler. +Happily, he was near-sighted, and though it was a startling experience +to find himself shaking hands across a very broad desk, which an +ordinary man could not have spanned, he did not realize the cause of +the phenomenon. +</p> + +<p> +Dick entertained accountants, land agents, an occasional bailiff or +two, so that there was no novelty in the invitation. Learned-looking +strangers came to his table from time to time and were introduced and +passed out of his mind. +</p> + +<p> +“He will be staying six weeks,” Dick had told him, “and you mustn’t +object to his prowling round the place, because I want to get a true +valuation of the estate, and he has his own peculiar methods.” +</p> + +<p> +“You might get him to price the Black Abbot,” said Harry, half dourly, +half amused. “What we want, Dick, is not so much a valuer as a good +policeman.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford thought that the coming guest might fulfil both functions, +but he did not say so. +</p> + +<p> +He ushered his visitor back to his own little office, carefully closed +the door and sat down at his desk. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, make yourself comfortable. Do you smoke?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Puttler fumbled in his pocket and produced a black pipe. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not very aristocratic,” he apologized, “but I prefer ’bacca to +cigars and cigarettes.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll join you,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +His study had two doors: one that opened into the hall and one into a +side corridor running back to the housekeeper’s room. The two men had +been talking for ten minutes, though, as far as Mr. Puttler was +concerned, his contribution to the discourse was limited to an +occasional question, when Thomas came noiselessly down the side +corridor, peeped into the hall, and walked back to the study door. +There was a look of apprehension upon his lean and shapeless face +which was not without cause. Stooping, he put his eye to the keyhole. +He could just see the end of the settee and the head and shoulders of +the strange visitor. He was holding something in his hand—a +white-handled knife, and was examining it with curiosity. Thomas bent +his head and pressed his ear against the hole. +</p> + +<p> +Dick’s back was to the door and he was speaking in a lower tone than +usual, and this reacted to the disadvantage of the eavesdropper, for +only a few distinct and intelligible sentences came to him. +</p> + +<p> +“… might have been somebody admitted to the house by one of the +servants,” was the first thing he heard. A few minutes later, Mr. +Puttler, whose voice was distinct, asked: “Was the window in the +library open?” And he heard Dick say, “Yes,” and add something which +he could not catch. +</p> + +<p> +The soles and heels of Thomas’s boots were of rubber. He passed into +the hall and made another reconnaissance, then returned to his +listening post, in time to hear Dick say: +</p> + +<p> +“My brother hasn’t an enemy in the world.… I am afraid I can’t say the +same.…” +</p> + +<p> +Once the listener caught the word “treasure” and once he heard the +name of “Arthur Gwyn,” but in what association he could not learn. +Again Thomas visited the hall. He could not take the risk of being +seen listening at the door. He was free from observation so far as he +knew. The old Chelford butler was in the servants’ hall. Dick and his +brother did not lunch till two, an unholy hour from the point of view +of servants, but very suitable for Dick and his peculiar occupation. +</p> + +<p> +He squinted through the keyhole again. The detective still had the +knife in his hand and was looking at it intently. He heard him say, +“This is new,” and then Dick entered upon a long and apparently +explanatory statement, not a word of which came to the disgusted man +who was listening. He was most anxious to hear some reference to +himself, but, if it was made, he did not overhear his name. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after, however, a familiar phrase caught his ear. Dick Alford was +talking about the Black Abbot, and he heard rather a sketchy +description of that spook. Then his voice dropped again, and +coincident with this Thomas heard the stately footsteps of the butler, +slipped back to the housekeeper’s room, and was busy in the pantry +when the stout Mr. Glover found him. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch24"> +XXIV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> luncheon was not a genial meal. Harry had acquired the +disgraceful habit of bringing a book to his meals, and he was utterly +absorbed in the volume and left Dick and his visitor to carry on a +conversation as though he were not present. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Puttler, who was a man of wide experience, was neither embarrassed +by his magnificent surroundings—for Lord Chelford lived in a princely +style, three footmen and a butler waiting upon them—nor did he feel +it necessary to live up to the state in which he found himself. He was +altogether unaffected, had a fund of anecdotes, and could tell funny +stories without apparently enjoying them himself, which is the art of +amusement. Only once did Dick interrupt his brother’s reading. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie is coming to tea,” he said. “She ’phoned over just before +lunch.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry Chelford looked up and his face fell. +</p> + +<p> +“That is very unfortunate,” he said. “I had promised myself an +uninterrupted afternoon with Fra Hickler. I’ve just had a facsimile +edition sent to me from Leipzig. Hickler, you remember, Dick, was a +cloistered monk in the days of Elizabeth, our abbey being one of the +few that was not interfered with by Henry the Eighth or by Elizabeth +either; partly, I think, because our particular order of monks were +antagonistic to the Jesuits.…” +</p> + +<p> +Dick listened patiently, and when his brother had exhausted the +history of the Black Fathers of Chelfordbury— +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll have to be civil and come to tea, and after that I’ve no doubt +Leslie will not object to your going back to Fra Hickler, who was a +German, I presume?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was a German,” said Harry gravely. “And the circumstances which +brought him to Chelfordbury were rather peculiar.” +</p> + +<p> +“The best German I ever read about”—it was Mr. Puttler who +interrupted—“was Robinson Crusoe.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick thought it was a crude jest on the part of his guest, but, if it +was so, Mr. Puttler was unconscious of his humour. Harry stared at the +“accountant.” He took such statements as these very seriously indeed. +</p> + +<p> +“I am not well acquainted with Robinson Crusoe,” he said, “but surely +you are wrong in saying that he was a German? I have always regarded +such characters as typically English.” +</p> + +<p> +“He was a German,” said Mr. Puttler firmly, “though few people are +aware of the fact. If you look at the first page of the story you’ll +see these words: ‘My father was a merchant of Bremen,’ and Bremen’s in +Germany, or I’m a Dutchman. And if his father was a German, he was a +German, because there was no such thing as naturalization in those +days.” +</p> + +<p> +Having dropped his literary thunderbolt, Puttler was prepared to take +up the subject which Dick had interrupted by his question. +</p> + +<p> +“The trouble with church music, Mr. Alford, is that it’s a little too +sugary. It appeals to the senses. I’ve had many an argument with my +brother churchwardens——” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you a churchwarden?” asked Dick, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +Again the gleam of laughter in the man’s deep-set eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s hard to believe,” he said modestly, “but I am.” +</p> + +<p> +Soon after this, Harry left the table, and was gone five minutes when +he returned with a fat volume under his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right, Mr.——” +</p> + +<p> +“Puttler,” suggested Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re right about Robinson Crusoe. What an extraordinary fact, to +think that one has lived all one’s life under such a mistaken +impression!” +</p> + +<p> +This evidence of literary skill on the part of the visitor brought a +remarkable change in Harry’s attitude. Before, Puttler might have had +no existence. He was one with the milkman, the grocer, and the village +postman. +</p> + +<p> +He took Puttler affectionately by the arm and led him into the +library, and there Dick left them, knowing exactly the course of +instruction that Mr. Puttler would receive; for Harry’s first act was +to unlock his desk and take out the Diary. He was relieved to have +Puttler off his hands for an hour or two. Dick that day was +experiencing a sense of unbelievable relief. A great burden had been +lifted from his shoulders, and one of his more pressing and secret +troubles had been half dissipated. +</p> + +<p> +He ran halfway down the drive to meet Leslie’s car, and leapt on the +running-board while the car was moving. +</p> + +<p> +“Practising for a tram-conductor,” he said cheerily. “I’ve decided on +my profession, when you arrive at Fossaway Manor, mistress of all +these demesnes.” +</p> + +<p> +“When will that be, Dick?” she asked, looking steadily ahead. +</p> + +<p> +“Never, I hope.” +</p> + +<p> +In his lightness of heart he had not kept that usual guard on his +tongue, and the words were out before he could stop them. Twice he had +been taken off his guard, and he would have given anything to unsay +his words. +</p> + +<p> +Apparently she did not attach any great significance to them, for she +did not turn her head, sending the car spinning to the broad gravelled +place before the old porch. He jumped down when she stopped the +machine and helped her alight. +</p> + +<p> +“I have to prepare you for a curious bird,” he said, and described Mr. +Puttler with more truth than flattery. +</p> + +<p> +“What is he, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“He’s an accountant,” said Dick glibly. “He’s also quite an amusing +fellow and full of weird information. I’m going to try a little on +you. Do you know that Robinson Crusoe was a German?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course, his father lived in Bremen,” she said, and he was +still laughing when he took her into the library. +</p> + +<p> +In the presence of his fiancée Lord Chelford exhibited a nervousness +and a <i>gaucherie</i> which might have been understandable if he were +meeting her for the first time. He had never quite overcome the +novelty of his engagement, and his attitude toward her was one of awe +rather than of reverence. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you do, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +He had never kissed her in his life; now he held her hand for a +fraction of a second and dropped it as though it burnt him. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know Mr. Tuttler?” +</p> + +<p> +“Puttler,” said the other, and Leslie looked into the melancholy eyes +and read something in them that Dick had missed, and possibly Mr. +Puttler’s closest associate had not seen. +</p> + +<p> +She did not pay him the poor compliment of feeling sorry for him, +though she read in those quick-lighting deeps a craving for woman’s +sympathy which nature, by her cruel handiwork, had repelled in +advance. +</p> + +<p> +“Glad to know you, Miss Gwyn. I know your brother—Mr. Arthur Gwyn, +the solicitor, isn’t it? I thought so.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has Arthur come?” asked Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick. “We’re going to have tea in the drawing-room. Will +you come along, Harry?” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, surely,” he said hastily. “You’ll excuse me, dear——” It was +an effort to employ even so banal an expression of affection. +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the beautiful drawing-room, with its windows open to +the terrace, and a riot of gorgeous sulphur chrysanthemums showing +above the stone balustrade, they found they were alone. Mr. Puttler +had melted away as they were passing through the hall. He explained, +afterward, that he wanted to stroll through the gardens, but the girl +knew that the man’s uncanny instinct had told him that, of all the +people in the world, these two were satisfied best with each other’s +company. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you sleep?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t get up till lunch time,” he said. “And you?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I couldn’t sleep. Poor Arthur!” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you try beefsteak?” he asked brutally. “Really, the most +incongruous company I can imagine is a black eye and Arthur Gwyn!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is awfully shaken,” she said seriously. “I have never known him to +be so upset. It <i>was</i> Mr. Gilder.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knew,” said Dick, “or, at least, I guessed. Did you find out the +cause of the quarrel?” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know; I think it was something to do with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was Gilder doing at your house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur didn’t tell me,” she replied. “From what he said I gather that +Mr. Gilder had been watching Arthur and had followed him somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +“To the Abbey ruins—yes, that is quite possible. And of course your +brother objected to that, naturally. Why are they watching each +other?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is Arthur watching Gilder?” she asked in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“It almost looks like it. Leslie, I want to tell you something that +nobody else knows, not even Harry. It may bring a little ease to your +mind in the dark hours of the night. Puttler is a detective, a +Scotland Yard man.” +</p> + +<p> +She stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“A detective? Why on earth——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Things have been happening that I don’t very much like,” said Dick. +“I’ve been worried nearly sick about them, and though I’m quite +capable of dealing with most contingencies, the Lord has ordained that +I should take seven hours’ rest in every twenty-four, and there must +be somebody awake when I’m asleep.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Black Abbot—is that what is worrying you?” +</p> + +<p> +He bit his lip thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes and no. Some aspects of the Black Abbot’s activities trouble me +more than I should like to confess. Leslie, do you believe in the +treasure?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Chelford treasure?” she asked, in surprise. “And what do you mean +by believing in it? It is true that the gold was brought to Fossaway +Manor in olden times, isn’t it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly true,” said Dick, “and perfectly true, I should imagine, +that it was taken away. But do you believe that it has any existence, +that it can be found? Suppose one dug up every square inch of the +park, pulled down this old house of ours, probed into the bowels of +the earth, do you think it is possible that the gold could be found? +Because, if you don’t, there are other people who do besides Harry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you believe?” she challenged. +</p> + +<p> +He heaved a deep sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven knows, I’m ready to believe anything! And I thought I should +never drag down my lofty intelligence to such deeps. But, Leslie, my +dear, I am getting——” He paused for a word. +</p> + +<p> +“Convinced?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not exactly convinced, but shaken in my obstinacy. I’ve become a +doubter of my own scepticism, and that’s the worst mental condition a +man can reach—or almost the worst,” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“Does Harry know you are a convert?” Her fine eyes twinkled with +mischief. +</p> + +<p> +“He suspects me,” said Dick gloomily. “If I thought the money was +here——” +</p> + +<p> +She regarded him steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“Would it make a big difference to you, Dick?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Me personally?” He shook his head. “Lord, no! It would make a +difference to the——” He paused. “To Harry. I was going to say the +estate. The estate, to me, is something distinct from any personality. +It stands for the agglomeration of dead men’s efforts, the cumulative +sum of all their strivings.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him for a long time in wonder. She loved him in this +serious mood of his. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve made rather a fetish of Fossaway Manor and the Chelford +estates, haven’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have I?” He was genuinely surprised. “I wonder…” And then he laughed. +“It isn’t a bad line for a second son to exalt the estates to which he +will never succeed, above the personality of the man who will get it! +It makes him rather superior to the real heir. Put my fetish worship +down to vanity, for the Lord knows I have my share of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I doubt it,” she said quietly. “Come out on to the terrace. Your +flowers are lovely.” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Everything in the garden——’ ” he began, but she checked him with a +warning finger. +</p> + +<p> +“If you get banal I shall go in and find Puttler.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch25"> +XXV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">She</span> leaned on the gray stone balustrade and looked down upon the +wind-stirred tresses of great golden chrysanthemums, each as big as a +large-sized saucer. They were not all gold; there were deep red blooms +and snowy white and flaming orange, and beyond them a huge bed of +late-flowering roses; even from this distance, she could catch the +delicate fragrance of them. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a beautiful old place,” she said in a hushed voice. “I don’t +wonder that you love it. How long has your family owned this estate, +Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eight hundred years,” he said. “The first of the Chelfords sliced off +the head of the original owner and stole the property. Successive +generations of Chelfords, whose own heads were cut off with monotonous +regularity, enclosed a few thousand acres of common land belonging to +the people—and there you are!” +</p> + +<p> +She laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“You have very few illusions, have you?” +</p> + +<p> +“None,” was his curt reply, and somehow the answer hurt her. +</p> + +<p> +They had to send twice for Harry before he put in an appearance, and +he seemed disappointed to find that Puttler was not there. +</p> + +<p> +“That is quite an intelligent fellow, Dick,” he said, delicately +spearing a cucumber sandwich. “He has an extraordinary knowledge of +history, particularly English history. Unfortunately, he doesn’t read +German” [Harry read German as well as he read English, French, or +Italian] “but I have persuaded him to take up the study. Have you +everything you want, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +He had helped her to nothing, and was happy to find that her +requirements had been supplied. Only twice he spoke to her: once to +ask about Arthur, and the other time when he made an oblique reference +to his forthcoming marriage. +</p> + +<p> +“Marriage ceremonies and the pomp of them are a little indelicate, I +think. It is a barbarous custom, these veils and bridesmaids and +barbaric orange-blossoms. Now in America I am told that it is quite +the usual thing to be married in a drawing-room. I’m sure that could +be arranged, couldn’t it, Dick? The bishop is quite an obliging old +gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Turn Puttler on him: he’s an authority on church ritual,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“The man is an authority on most things,” said Harry, with +unaccustomed enthusiasm. “He was telling me that possibly there was +some cryptogram in existence which would give a direct clue as to the +treasure.” And then, seeing the half smile on the girl’s face, he gave +one of his rare boyish laughs. “We are still chasing shadows, Leslie, +but it is a very substantial shadow, believe me. Now, Puttler thinks…” +</p> + +<p> +They listened without comment to Puttler’s views, which in this case +were neither informative nor particularly brilliant. +</p> + +<p> +“Puttler’s mind apparently runs to dungeons, and there are dungeons to +this place,” said Harry vigorously. “I am going to have a look round +to-morrow. There are probably secret places under the floor which +might be profitably examined.” +</p> + +<p> +“The dungeons, as you call them, are wine cellars,” said Dick +ominously; “and if Puttler goes fooling around my port there will be +trouble! Besides which, Harry, I don’t suppose there has been a single +ancestor of ours who hasn’t dug up the floor of that unfortunate +dungeon—one of them in the days of the Regency had the walls +stripped, and the beggar never replaced the stone. It cost our father +the best part of a thousand pounds to repair the damage done by this +old gold-hound!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick noticed that whilst Harry was present the girl’s manner was just +a little strained and unreal, and she was nervous, too, started when +she was addressed, and was content to listen without including herself +in the conversation. It was not until Harry had gone, with a lame +apology, back to the library that she became her real self again, and +the old Leslie crept forth from its hiding place. Once, whilst he and +his brother were discussing the affair of the dungeons, she had walked +on to the terrace, and out of the corner of his eye he saw her in +profile, a slim, frail-looking girl, with her delicate face and her +glorious hair, and in the setting she looked almost ethereal. It was +as though some old masterpiece of Botticelli had come to life. +</p> + +<p> +When the door had closed on Harry she came back and sat down with a +little grimace. +</p> + +<p> +“Was it very rude of me to go out? Dicky, I can’t work up any interest +in the things that really fascinate Harry! Whatever will he talk about +when the treasure is found?” +</p> + +<p> +“The treasure? Oh, you mean the gold? He will probably talk about +you.” +</p> + +<p> +She made a little moue. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m too young to be interesting to Harry, three hundred years too +young,” she said. “Now tell me about your detective. I liked what I +saw of him. He is to be your little guardian angel? And, Dick, will he +have a beat—is that the word? Because, if he has, I do hope he’ll +take in Willow House. I’ll even lend him my car.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you really frightened?” +</p> + +<p> +She thought for a while before she replied. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I am,” she said. “When I was a child the first air raids +fascinated me, the second were interesting, but after the third or +fourth they became—just air raids. And the Black Abbot—well, he’s +very picturesque, Dick, but he’s rather terrifying. Didn’t you tell me +that Harry feared him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He does a little.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, I wonder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Harry is naturally of a nervous temperament,” said Dick. “People are +born that way, and it is absurd to talk of ‘cowardice’ where they are +concerned. Now I was born without the knowledge of nerves, and I +daresay if you saw me chasing the Black Abbot you would think I was +terribly brave. As a matter of fact, it is simply because I’ve no +imagination.” +</p> + +<p> +“That isn’t true,” she said. “Why do you always belittle yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I am by nature excessively modest,” he said gravely, and at +that moment they caught sight of Mr. Puttler strolling through the +long lines of rose trees that ran parallel with the eastern wing. +Together they went down the terrace steps and intercepted him. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a lovely place,” said Mr. Puttler, shaking his head in +admiration. “I’ve never seen so many roses together in my life, except +at Covent Garden Market, and they’re not roses, they’re just +merchandise.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve told Miss Gwyn that you’re a detective, Puttler.” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler frowned at this. +</p> + +<p> +“You know Miss Gwyn better than I do,” he said good-humouredly. +“Speaking for myself, I find that life is much easier to live if you +keep your mouth shut. Not,” he added hastily, “that I want to be +offensive. That’s only my way of reasoning and my way of talking. +There used to be an officer in our division who rose from the rank of +plain police constable to superintendent by the simple process of +never saying anything to anybody. If he was asked for his opinion on a +matter he used to shake his head and say there was much to be said on +both sides but he had his own private opinion, and even when he was +called into a case he’d say nothing, but listen to what everybody else +said and smile. That smile was worth a thousand a year to him.” +</p> + +<p> +They crossed the rose garden and were strolling across the lawn. Under +a huge elm Mr. Puttler stopped to continue a story which was fated +never to be finished. +</p> + +<p> +“One day the superintendent said to this man, whose name was Carter, +‘Carter,’ he said, ‘I can’t understand——’ ” +</p> + +<p> +<i>Crack!</i> +</p> + +<p> +A bullet snicked past the detective’s face, struck the bole of the +tree, and sent the bark splintering. From a clump of rhododendron +bushes two hundred yards away floated a pale blue cloud. +</p> + +<p> +“Down on your face!” said Dick hoarsely, and dragged the girl to the +ground, only just in time. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Crack!</i> +</p> + +<p> +The second bullet struck a little lower. A splinter of bark hummed +past the girl’s ear. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s someone in those bushes who doesn’t like me,” said Mr. +Puttler. +</p> + +<p> +Pulling a long-barrelled Browning from his pocket and bending low, he +sprinted toward the bushes, zigzagging as he ran. +</p> + +<p> +A third shot rang out and the running man pitched forward on his face +and lay still. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch26"> +XXVI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dick</span> flew forward to the prostrate figure, and, kneeling by his +side, turned him on his back. His eyelids were working spasmodically, +but there was no sign of injury, except a bruise on the side of his +face which had been caused by his coming violently into contact with +the ground. And then Dick saw the man’s right boot. The sole had been +ripped off and there was a patch of blood showing on the toe of the +sock. At the sound of a rustling skirt Dick turned his head. The girl +was coming toward them. +</p> + +<p> +“Go back behind that tree and don’t move,” he shouted authoritatively, +but for once she did not obey him. +</p> + +<p> +She was rather pale, but there was no other evidence of fear, as she +knelt by his side and began to unfasten the collar of the stricken +man. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s stunned. I don’t think it’s anything worse than that,” said +Dick. “I thought at first he was finished—look at his boot!” +</p> + +<p> +He was pulling it off gingerly and the operation must have hurt a +little, because the detective winced and opened his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo! What has happened?” he asked, looking round. “Did that bird +shoot me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think he’s hurt you very much.” Dick was looking at the foot. +The bullet had ricochetted, cutting a shallow gash on the man’s +instep, but there was no other injury. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you feel fit enough to look after Miss Gwyn?” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The detective reached round for the gun he had dropped and humped +himself to his feet. Without another word, Dick raced across the +grass-land to the bushes, and the girl watched him in terror, +expecting every second to hear the fourth and the fatal shot. +</p> + +<p> +After five minutes he emerged from the bushes, holding something in +his hand which he was examining curiously as he walked toward them. +</p> + +<p> +“A Lee-Enfield rifle, army pattern,” he said. “I found these shells.” +</p> + +<p> +He put them into the detective’s hand. Puttler examined the exploded +cartridges carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t see him, of course?” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I think he must have got round to the back of the house. The +bushes ran practically from the west wing of Fossaway Manor to the end +of the Mound. He might of course be still hidden in the bushes, but +the probability is that he made his getaway as soon as he saw you +fall,” said Dick. “I think we’d better go inside and I will find you a +pair of shoes, unless you have a spare supply.” +</p> + +<p> +They were halfway to the house when they met Lord Chelford. +</p> + +<p> +“Who was that shooting?” he asked irritably. “Dick, I told you that I +did not want rabbit shooting or any other kind of shooting within half +a mile of the house. It gets on my nerves terribly. Really, I think +you must show a little more consideration.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl had opened her lips to explain when Dick caught her eye, and +with splendid mendacity she invented a hurried but effective excuse. +</p> + +<p> +“My fault, Harry. I saw a stoat, and I hate stoats.” +</p> + +<p> +The fact that none of them carried a rifle was unnoticed by Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, of course…” He was obviously taken back by her championship. +“If that’s the case it can’t be helped. Only in future, Dick, old +boy…” +</p> + +<p> +He walked rapidly back to the house. +</p> + +<p> +“Why shouldn’t he be told?” asked Leslie. Then, realizing the +foolishness of the question, she was all penitence. “There is no +reason why he should be, of course. I was silly to suggest it. But, +Dick, who did such a terrible thing? It couldn’t have been an +accident.” +</p> + +<p> +“It wasn’t an accident: of that I can assure you,” said Mr. Puttler, +nursing his injury. “The first two shots that were fired hit the tree +within three inches of each other. Are you going to notify the local +police, Mr. Alford?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick thought for a moment, then decided against that course, and to +Leslie’s surprise the detective approved. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’re right,” said Puttler. “Where is the nearest rifle +range?” +</p> + +<p> +“About fifteen miles away,” said Dick sardonically. “You needn’t +follow that line of thought.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not following any line of thought,” said the detective. “I’m only +foreseeing possible alibis. I spend my life standing in front of +alibis and waving a red flag.” +</p> + +<p> +Through the tan, Dick’s face was gray. He seemed suddenly to have gone +old, and Leslie looked at him anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, at whom were they shooting?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that they were shooting at anybody,” he said wearily. +“They just loosed off a few rounds to scare us.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he laughed; it was a fierce, hard little laugh, and she +winced at the sound of it. +</p> + +<p> +“I am thinking of Harry and his nerves, and the stoat and every damned +ridiculous—— I beg your pardon, Leslie; I’m afraid I’m getting +rattled.” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled at this. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, will you say good-bye to Harry for me? I promised my brother I +would come home early. No, really, you need not take me. I’m not at +all afraid of being held up by armed desperadoes!” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither am I,” said Dick, “but I don’t fancy you overmuch as a +driver.” +</p> + +<p> +And in her annoyance at this false accusation she forgot to resist his +escort. +</p> + +<p> +By the time he had returned to the house, Puttler had secured a +dressing for his foot. The injury was so slight that he could resume +his shoes, and pooh-poohed the suggestion that he had better lie up +that night. +</p> + +<p> +“It was a narrow escape,” he said, “but I’m rather glad I got that +bullet, and that it didn’t go where it was intended.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick looked at him steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“For whom was it intended?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Without hesitation came the reply: +</p> + +<p> +“For Miss Leslie Gwyn: I thought you knew that.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick could find no answer, but in his heart of hearts he knew that +Puttler was speaking the truth. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch27"> +XXVII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mr. Fabrian Gilder</span>, sometime head clerk to the firm of Gwyn & Gwyn, +and now a gentleman of leisure, was in one sense a hard man. He did +not forgive even slight injuries, and in the past had gone a long way +out of his path to get even with those who had the misfortune to +affront him. And Arthur Gwyn had offended beyond hope of forgiveness. +A few days before, Gilder would have thought it a very simple matter +to be revenged upon his enemy; but now the simple process of laying an +information and of preferring a charge of forgery was contingent upon +four bills which were in his possession being repudiated by the man +who was alleged to have backed them. +</p> + +<p> +He could do no more than present those interesting documents, and this +he did through his bank. Dick had already made arrangements for their +redemption. It was not entirely an act of philanthropy on his part, +for he was a business man, and took over from the frankly reluctant +Mr. Gwyn the choice of a number of unsalable shares which Dick +regarded as having a certain value. The bills, which had been renewed +from time to time, were met, and that ended Mr. Gilder’s chance of +carrying his threat into execution. +</p> + +<p> +He was the type of man who thrived on opposition. Though it would be +true to say that he had fallen in love with Leslie Gwyn the first time +he had seen her, which was months before that unpleasant scene at his +flat, his desire for her grew as his chance of winning her receded +farther and farther into the background. +</p> + +<p> +On the night that Dick had found him examining the ruins of the Abbey, +Mr. Gilder had returned to the cut road when he thought the coast was +clear and had discovered yet another in quest of the treasure. He had +witnessed the interview between the two men and had followed Arthur +back to Willow House with no other intention than to offer his help, +for a consideration, in discovering this mythical fortune. For Mr. +Gilder had heard quite enough that day he surprised his employer with +Mary Wenner, to know that somewhere under the Abbey lay either the +fortune or its key. He had overtaken Arthur on the drive, and Arthur +was in an unpleasant mood: hot with the man at the interruption of his +search, smarting under the sting of Dick Alford’s sarcasm. +</p> + +<p> +At first, startled by the unexpected apparition of his head clerk, +Arthur had snarled round on him, and there and then discharged him +from his service and defied him to do his worst. It was Gilder who had +struck the first blow. +</p> + +<p> +When Arthur was in his more unpleasant moods he said things that no +self-respecting man could endure, and the black eye which the lawyer +nursed was an advertisement of his indiscretion. +</p> + +<p> +Gilder might be a bookmaker, but he was not a thief. At least, “thief” +was rather an extravagant description of his duplicity. He went back +to London half crazy with rage, but a day in bed restored his mental +equilibrium and he sat down to plan how best he could frustrate any +plans which his late employer had formed for gaining possession of the +treasure. By this time Gilder, too, was convinced; his last doubts +removed. He had been sceptical as to the treasure’s existence, but he +knew such things had happened, and he had a natural desire to be in +any scheme which produced immediately and without great labour a vast, +undreamed-of sum. +</p> + +<p> +His cut lip healed in a few hours, though it was still swollen, and +toward the evening of the second day after his retirement from the +firm of Gwyn & Gwyn, he dressed himself with great care, and, calling +a taxi, drove to an address he had once scribbled on his white +shirt-cuff. +</p> + +<p> +Mary Wenner occupied a tiny flat, every compartment of which might +have been contained in one large-sized room. It was perched on the top +floor of an apartment house near Baker Street—37, Cranston Mansions. +She enjoyed an uninterrupted view of the Metropolitan Railway and such +shunting operations as are carried out in that busy centre, and she +was as a rule free from callers; for there were no elevators in the +house, and to climb up four steep flights of stairs was something of +an undertaking. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Gilder was not strong for physical exertion and cursed the +parsimonious builder who had neglected to put in this easy method of +transportation. Nevertheless, he climbed, and presently was ringing at +the polished bell of No. 135. +</p> + +<p> +Mary had a daily servant, who was a charwoman in the morning, a +parlour-maid in the afternoon, and her own natural self after six, at +which hour she left for the night. This aged woman, with her dingy +white cap askew, opened the door and took the card in to her mistress, +leaving Mr. Gilder on the mat. She came back with an ingratiating +smile, and pointed to the room where Mary was to be found. +</p> + +<p> +“This is an unexpected pleasure, Mr. Gilder,” said Miss Wenner +conventionally. “I’m sure I never thought that you would be as good as +your word. Sit down, won’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +She really was pretty, he observed; in her plain house dress she was +prettier than in a more elaborate attire. The flat, though small, was +well but not expensively furnished. It left him with the impression +that she had bought everything with her own money and he had rather a +nice feeling toward her in consequence. For Fabrian Gilder was a queer +mixture of Puritan and adventurer. Later, Mary had her flat to thank +for certain pleasant developments. +</p> + +<p> +There was only one chair on which he could sit, and this he took. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d like a cup of tea? I’m just going to have mine,” said Miss +Wenner. “I’ve been out all day shopping and everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you—er—working?” asked Gilder delicately. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I’m not in business,” replied Miss Wenner, more correctly. Only +common people “work”: the gentility “go to business.” +</p> + +<p> +She went out, disappearing into a mysterious cupboard, which had just +enough room for a tiny kitchen table and a gas stove, and he heard the +rattle of cup against saucer, the <i>plomp!</i> of a gas ring being +lighted, and after a while she came back, a little flushed and +apologetic. +</p> + +<p> +“Maids are so stupid, aren’t they?” she asked. “You can never trust +these common daily people. I had an awfully nice maid but she went +away and got married, the stupid child!” +</p> + +<p> +She received very few visitors, she told him. Her “sewing woman” came +twice a week. She had a very dear friend—a girl, she hastened to +assure him—who spent Tuesday evenings with her and sometimes slept in +the flat. But a male visitor was the rarest of phenomena. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t be too careful,” said Miss Wenner primly. “A girl’s +character is her principal asset—don’t you agree Mr. Gilder?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Gilder agreed. +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I have always said about my work with Harry—excuse me, +I mean Lord Chelford, only we were such awfully good friends that I’ve +never dreamt of calling him anything but by his Christian name.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did you call Richard Alford by his Christian name?” asked Mr. +Gilder, not without malice. +</p> + +<p> +Her nose went up in the air. +</p> + +<p> +“Him!” she said contemptuously. “I don’t take any more notice of him +than I do of any of the other upper servants! He’s educated and all +that—went to Eton and Harrow” (even Mr. Gilder winced at this) “but +you judge a man by his manners and not by his education. There’s no +doubt at all that Dick Alford has the manners of a pig!” +</p> + +<p> +She said this with feeling and no little vehemence. Mr. Gilder, who +knew something of the circumstances, understood and almost +sympathized. +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to say that down at Fossaway I often felt that it wasn’t +right to be in that big house with no lady there except the +housekeeper, who of course is a servant, and—— Oh! here you are, +Gladys!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch28"> +XXVIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">She</span> rose as Gladys brought in the tea tray and laid it carefully on +the table. Gladys was sixty, toothless, and more or less chinless. She +wore most of her hair in a bun, which overflowed, drooping over her +neck in picturesque confusion. Gladys had the smile of one who enjoyed +the privilege of entertaining a visitor. She smiled at the girl, +smiled at Mr. Gilder, and smiled herself out of the room. Fabrian +Gilder thought he had never seen a more ghastly exhibition. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a good friend of Gwyn’s, aren’t you?” he asked, as he sipped +his tea. +</p> + +<p> +She dropped her eyes in maidenly embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +“We are rather good friends, but no more. We may be something +closer—who knows? He has always behaved like a perfect gentleman and +treated me like a lady. I must say that for Arthur. But he’s a little +trying; don’t you find him so?” she asked, with a girlish naïveté +that was a little overdone. +</p> + +<p> +“I have left him,” said Mr. Gilder briefly. “He and I disagreed over a +question of policy and I retired. In fact, we had a very bad row and +came to blows—I tell you this because you’ll probably learn the facts +from him sooner or later.” +</p> + +<p> +Mary was shocked; and when Mary was shocked she covered her rather +generous mouth with her two small white hands. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t tell me!” she said in a hushed voice. “Blows! Is that it?” +She nodded her head to his lip. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s it,” said Gilder shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“Blows!” repeated Mary Wenner. “How perfectly disgusting and vulgar!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to talk to you about Arthur Gwyn,” Gilder broke in upon her +horrified wonder. “We’re not good friends, but that doesn’t mean I +bear him any malice. But, naturally, as we are parted, I don’t feel +called upon to protect him and stand between him and his dupes”—he +emphasized the last word—“as I have done in the past. You know him as +well as I do,” he went on, as she was about to speak. “You know his +vanity; you know how perfectly unreliable and insincere he is; you +know, too, that he’d get out of any promise he ever made, even if it +was in black and white.” +</p> + +<p> +He was watching her narrowly all the time he spoke, and now he saw her +eyebrows arch. +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” she said coldly. “I don’t know anything about the law, but I +can’t see how a gentleman, or a common man for the matter of that, +could get out of—what is the expression—legal obligations?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you don’t know Arthur Gwyn as well as I do,” he said. “But that +is beside the point. I haven’t come here to blackguard him or to make +him look smaller in your eyes. Not that I could,” he said, +anticipating her protest a little ambiguously. “But I believe in a +girl having a square deal, especially a working girl who may have +nobody in the world to look after her interests. And I tell you that +that fellow couldn’t go straight if he was fired from a gun. Now, what +about the Chelford treasure?” +</p> + +<p> +At the words she sat bolt upright, and a look of blank astonishment +came to her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know?” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I know! You’re going to help him find the gold, and in +return——” He paused. +</p> + +<p> +That was exactly what he had come to find out. What obligation had +Arthur undertaken in return for the information she would give him? +And he was pretty sure of his ground. He knew the girl; had had some +dealings with her when she was with Chelford; and since he lived on +his knowledge of human beings, he had analyzed her with more or less +accuracy. He knew her vanity, her ambition; had heard something of her +summary discharge from Fossaway Manor. There was only one reward that +Arthur Gwyn could offer. +</p> + +<p> +“He has promised to marry you,” he said, and he was not altogether +drawing a bow at a venture. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he tell you that?” she said, with a little catch in her voice. “I +hope you don’t think, Mr. Gilder, that I’ve thrown myself at his head? +That I wouldn’t do for the best man in the world.” She looked at him +thoughtfully, and added: “Old or young. I trust Arthur as a gentleman +to fulfil any promise he has made. I am going to do something for him +that will make all the difference in the world——” +</p> + +<p> +“When is he going to marry you? After the treasure is discovered, I +suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“He will have to marry me then,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I realize that. You’re a girl that has to make her way in the world +without influence, and possibly without friends.” Mr. Gilder knew he +was on the right tack here. “He can offer you a position and you can +offer him money. After all, that is exactly what his sister is doing, +and nobody thinks any worse of her for that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly,” murmured Miss Wenner, who had never seen the matter in that +light before. +</p> + +<p> +“The point I want to make is this,” he went on: “What bond has he +given you?” +</p> + +<p> +“His word of honour,” said Miss Wenner dramatically. +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay. But what valuable bond has he given you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll show you.” +</p> + +<p> +She went into the next room, which was evidently her bedroom, and, +returning with her bag, placed it on her knee, opened the flap, and +took out, amongst other things, a slip of paper, which she passed +across to Mr. Gilder. He read it at a glance, noted the careful +emendation which Arthur had made, and passed it back. +</p> + +<p> +“That is valueless,” he said, and her face fell. “What is to prevent +his going to Chelford and striking a bargain with him? Where do you +come in then? Besides, this is what is known in law as a promise under +duress—that is to say, under compulsion. If he is acting in the +interests of his client, he can plead that he had to make this promise +in order to secure information which you were illegally withholding.” +</p> + +<p> +She stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not illegal to know and not to tell?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“To know of the existence of hidden treasure and to withhold your +information is a crime in some countries, and I daresay it is in +England. But that’s beside the point. Where do you come in, Miss +Wenner?” +</p> + +<p> +She bit her lip thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw it in that way,” she confessed. “What can I do, Mr. +Gilder?” +</p> + +<p> +He felt inclined to offer the obvious solution, “Get him to marry you +first,” but changed his mind. Mary Wenner married would be a useless +ally. +</p> + +<p> +At the back of his mind he was certain that this rather vulgar +girl—for he had a nice and finicking taste in the matter of +women—had discovered the Chelford millions. If he had not had this +belief he would not have made his call. He believed that by some +accident, or by reason of her close association with Harry Chelford, +she had unveiled the mystery of the lost gold; and his object now was +to discover how far his theory was justified by facts. +</p> + +<p> +“Is there no way of making that agreement more binding, Mr. Gilder?” +she asked. “You’re a lawyer—couldn’t you draw up something he +wouldn’t wriggle out of? Naturally, I’m too much of a lady to want any +man to marry me, if he doesn’t want to marry me. If he just hinted as +much I should tell him to go—I should simply say, ‘Oh, very well, I’m +not at all anxious to marry, thank you very much.’ I think a girl who +throws herself at a man’s head is despicable, don’t you, Mr. Gilder?” +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer this query. +</p> + +<p> +“I could draw you up an agreement that would be legally binding, but I +doubt if even that would help you. Why trust him at all?” he asked +bluntly. +</p> + +<p> +She dropped her eyes at this. +</p> + +<p> +“Who—or rather whom—could I trust?” she asked, and took an invisible +crumb off her dress. “This is such an awful world, and men are so very +deceitful, Mr. Gilder. The young ones are the worst, of course, but +they haven’t experience. I do think that a man isn’t in the prime of +life till he’s about forty-five.” She waited. “Or fifty. He’s sort of +settled down and sowed his wild oats, and he doesn’t want to go out at +nights and all that. And I’ll admit that Arthur is flighty. I wouldn’t +tell it to anybody but you, but he tried to kiss me any number of +times, and he once said the most terrible thing to me at Fossaway +Manor. I said to him: ‘Arthur, you seem to forget that you’re speaking +to a lady,’ and he just curled up and died, if you understand me. I +don’t mean that he actually perished——” +</p> + +<p> +“I understand what you mean,” said Gilder, and went on to make his +most startling revelation. “Now, listen, Miss Wenner. You’re a +sensible girl and I can talk to you as I could talk to very few +people.” +</p> + +<p> +This <i>cliché</i> of intensive flattery, which so seldom fails even when +employed upon intelligent people, produced in Miss Wenner the strained +attentiveness which was called for. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose I tell you,” said Fabrian Gilder darkly, “that Gwyn is +already trying to anticipate your discovery?” +</p> + +<p> +“I beg your pardon?” Mary Wenner was not very strong on the more +flowery expressions of speech. +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose he’s trying to get ahead of you—trying to find the gold +without your assistance?” +</p> + +<p> +“He wouldn’t dare!” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Gilder nodded very slowly, very deliberately. +</p> + +<p> +“He has already tried,” he said. “Two nights ago I was watching him, +suspecting his plan. He went at three o’clock in the morning to the +ruins of Chelford Abbey, and he took with him a crowbar.…” +</p> + +<p> +Whilst he was speaking, the red in her face deepened and the +wide-opened eyes grew brighter. +</p> + +<p> +“The hound!” she breathed. “The twisting, double-faced monkey!” +</p> + +<p> +It was not a ladylike expression, but for the moment she was superior +to shame. +</p> + +<p> +“The dirty, thieving, twisting sneak! To the Abbey—with a crowbar! +I’ll take my oath on a Bible that I never breathed a word of where it +was hid—I mean hidden. Let him go with his crowbar—ha-ha!” She +laughed shrilly, but gave no other evidence of supreme amusement. +“I’ll crowbar him! Let him search and scrape and dig and see what he +can find.” +</p> + +<p> +He tried to soothe her, but for the moment her soul was breaking in +tumultuous waves upon the muddy flats of Arthur’s duplicity. +</p> + +<p> +“He has deceived me! I don’t mean in an unladylike way—I mean—you +know what I mean, Mr. Gilder? I trusted that man. I gave him all my +heart.” The sob came naturally, but it was largely due to intensified +annoyance. “I gave him all that a woman could give a man—information +I mean, Mr. Gilder. I don’t want you to get any wrong ideas about me, +because I’ve always behaved like a lady, and nobody can point their +fingers of scorn at me.” +</p> + +<p> +She grew calm after a while. +</p> + +<p> +“Who can you trust?” she asked bitterly. “Who—can—you—trust?” +</p> + +<p> +“You can trust me.” Fabrian Gilder’s voice was very gentle, almost +pleading. +</p> + +<p> +He was rather a good-looking man, she observed; his gray hair gave him +distinction. +</p> + +<p> +“You wouldn’t want a legal document from me.…” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I would,” she said obstinately. “I don’t trust men.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have any document you wish. I will even go as far as +compromising myself hopelessly.” +</p> + +<p> +She coughed. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I should go quite as far as that,” she said, +misunderstanding him. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean that I would take the risk of detection without safeguarding +myself as Arthur Gwyn has done.” +</p> + +<p> +She dabbed her eyes with her pocket-handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, Mr. Gilder—I don’t know you very well, but I’m not going +to say that I don’t like you. I’ve always said to Agatha—my Tuesday +friend, as I call her—‘Mr. Gilder’s a perfect gentleman.’ In fact, +I’m—Mr. Gilder, what is your Christian name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fabrian,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She lingered tenderly over the word and smiled, a wistful sideways +smile. +</p> + +<p> +“I should call you Fabe, I suppose? It’s a perfectly lovely name.… As +I was saying, I don’t want to throw myself at any man’s head.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us go down to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Her face changed. +</p> + +<p> +“To the Abbey—to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“My car will get us down in an hour and a half, and we can wait till +it’s dark; and unless there’s a lot of digging to be done——” +</p> + +<p> +“There is no digging,” she said. “But to-night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” he demanded. “My cottage is less than a mile from the +Abbey. If the gold is there and reachable, we could get away with +enough to make us rich for life.” +</p> + +<p> +She pondered this, and then: +</p> + +<p> +“I know you’ll think it horrid of me, Mr. Gilder—Fabe—that does +sound familiar, doesn’t it?—but I would like something in black and +white.” +</p> + +<p> +There and then Mr. Fabrian Gilder produced a document that was enough, +as he observed jocularly, to hang him, and, reading it, even Mary +Wenner, with her keen instinct for safeguards, was impressed. He wrote +the agreement with his own fountain pen, on paper which he provided, +and he had brought along that pen in his pocket with a view to such a +contingency. It was a new pen, filled with an ink that he had +purchased at a novelty store in Wardour Street, and which was +guaranteed to fade within six hours of writing. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Wenner read it through, folded it, and put it into her bag, and +disappeared into her bedroom. She came back with the bag, but he +guessed that the agreement was disposed in some safe place. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Fabe, what time do you want to start?” +</p> + +<p> +“At nine-thirty?” he suggested, and she nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And don’t trouble to bring a crowbar,” she said a little viciously, +as she remembered Arthur Gwyn’s rank treachery. “I’ll carry all the +tools we want in my bag.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch29"> +XXIX +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> weather had changed that afternoon. Big black clouds had come up +from the west; a steady drizzle of rain had set in when Fabrian Gilder +brought his car to the rendezvous in Marylebone Road. He had pulled up +the hood, and, as a matter of precaution, he had cleared out every +portable thing from the tonneau. If there was gold he must find room +for it, and he made a careful calculation as to the weight he could +carry on each journey. +</p> + +<p> +He was surprised at himself that he had accepted as a fact so readily +that there was gold to be taken. From the girl he learned for the +first time the extent of the treasure. He had inquired casually of his +garage man the amount of strain the back axle would stand. That was +unnecessary, for he had once driven four fairly heavy men a +considerable journey. Supposing they weighted 170 pounds, that would +be the equivalent of twenty bars of gold. +</p> + +<p> +It was nearly ten before the girl appeared. She was wearing a long +raincoat and stepped into the seat by his side with a voluble apology. +</p> + +<p> +“I nearly didn’t come,” she said. “I only just remembered after you’d +gone that awful Black Abbot.” +</p> + +<p> +He was a little amused. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t believe in that kind of hokum, do you?” he asked, as the +car went swiftly down Baker Street. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know.” She was dubious. “He did appear once or twice when I +was at the Manor, but we used to believe that these were villagers’ +stories. According to the newspapers, they’ve seen more of him +lately—ugh!” She shivered. +</p> + +<p> +He tapped his pocket significantly with his hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got something here that’s mighty bad for abbots black or white!” +he said. “Don’t you worry, little girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Fabe,” she said meekly. +</p> + +<p> +Very delicately he suggested that she might call him by the Christian +name his parents had given him. There was no diminutive, he explained, +and excused his correction by telling her that there was a possibility +that she might address him and he would not know to whom she was +speaking. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t believe in long engagements, do you?” She went off at a +tangent. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I don’t. They should be short—and sweet!” +</p> + +<p> +They both laughed together, and were in excellent humour by the time +they reached the deserted streets of Dorking. +</p> + +<p> +“I only have one anxiety,” he told her. “Mr. Richard Alford has got a +habit of prowling round at odd hours. On a night like this he’ll +hardly leave his comfortable apartment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Comfortable apartment!” she scoffed. “Why, he’s only got a tiny +little office, and his bedroom’s not much bigger than mine. I simply +detest the man. He gives himself more airs in a day than dear Harry +gives himself in ten years—you don’t mind me saying ‘dear Harry?’ +You’re not jealous, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +He assured her he was not at all jealous. +</p> + +<p> +“I should have married Harry if it hadn’t been for him. Harry was +simply crazy about me, but Dick hated me—how that man hated me! Mind +you, I’ve always snubbed him when he got a little too fresh. I don’t +say that he was chasing me—I hate girls who think every man is after +them—but he was certainly very attentive once or twice. After lunch +or dinner he’d get up and open the door for me, and that’s a thing +that Harry never did. But of course I saw through it. It was all +deceit and artfulness.” +</p> + +<p> +She chattered at rare intervals, except during the five miles of +driving rain that forced its way under the cover and lashed her face. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a horrible night,” she complained. +</p> + +<p> +“On the contrary, it’s one of the best nights I could have chosen even +if I had the ordering of the weather,” said Mr. Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +When they reached the secondary road that led to Chelfordbury he +proceeded with greater caution, extinguishing the flaming headlamps +and relying upon the two small lights that were placed on the front +mudguard. He knew the road so well that there was no danger of mishap; +his chief anxiety was that he should not, by the reflected rays of the +bigger headlights, be recognized. +</p> + +<p> +A mile from Fossaway Manor he switched out the remaining two lights, +for he had a shrewd idea that this section of the road was visible +from Lord Chelford’s house. To the nervous girl riding at his side, it +seemed that they were in imminent danger every minute of colliding +with one of the telegraph posts which ran along the side of the road. +Happily she was not aware that the smaller lamps had been +extinguished. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t worry,” he assured her. “I know every inch of this road; I’ve +driven up it a hundred times. My cottage lies just beyond Willow +House.” +</p> + +<p> +The car, which had been moving silently and smoothly, began to slow as +it went up the hill that led to Fontwell Cutting. He switched off the +engine, and, jamming on the brakes, got out and opened the gate into +Red Farm field. Then, walking alongside the car, he released the +brakes and guided it to the place where Dick had found the machine a +few nights before. +</p> + +<p> +“Here we are,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He took her arm; she was shivering, and when she spoke he heard the +chatter of her teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I hadn’t come,” she said, started, and pointed into the dark. +“What is that over there?” she whispered fearfully. +</p> + +<p> +“A pollard willow,” he said. “Really, there’s nothing to be afraid +of—Mary.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know about that,” she quavered. “Don’t let go of my arm, will +you? Have you got a pistol?” +</p> + +<p> +He assured her that he had. +</p> + +<p> +Through the little gate, which he knew was unlocked, up the steep and +slippery slope, and immediately ahead of them in the darkness were the +solemn ruins. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather not show a light,” he said in a low voice. “That was how +Gwyn was discovered. Do you know your way?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I can see the tower,” she suggested. +</p> + +<p> +Stooping down to get an artificial skyline, he saw the bulk of the +ruined tower and guided her forward. Once she stumbled over a heap of +stones and would have screamed if his hand had not covered her mouth. +</p> + +<p> +“For God’s sake, be careful!” he urged. “Now, how do we get to the +vault?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait.” She released his arm and went toward the wall of the tower. He +saw her once more, when she was groping her way round. Presently she +whispered: “Come along.” +</p> + +<p> +He followed her and reaching out her hand she took his. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a step down,” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +They were going into the tower, although he did not remember having +seen any opening. He heard a rusty squeak.… +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very narrow; you’ll have to squeeze through.” +</p> + +<p> +The opening, he judged, was about a foot wide, and he had some trouble +to pass the obstacle. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a big corner stone,” she said, in a low voice. “It swings round +and opens like a door. It’s the way the old Abbot used to go out when +he carried on with Lady Chelford—you’ve heard that bit of scandal, I +suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +The “bit of scandal” was some eight hundred years old and was news to +him. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’ve got a lamp you can put it on.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled out his torch and turned the switch. They were in a tiny +stone chamber at the top of a circular flight of moss-grown stairs. +Above was a vaulted roof, which seemed to be cut out of one piece of +stone, as it might well be, for the interior measurements of the tower +could not have been much more than four by five. The thickness of the +walls he could judge; they had been built in the days when walls had +other functions than to support a roof. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along.” She led the way, stepping gingerly on the slithery moss. +</p> + +<p> +He counted twenty-five steps, and then they were in a large stone +chamber, so weatherworn that it seemed to be a natural cave. Walls and +roof had lost their symmetry, and only the square of it told him that +it was the work of man’s hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got the key?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. Many years before, Gwyn & Gwyn had defended a famous +burglar and had secured his acquittal on a technical error in the +indictment. In reward he had presented to his lawyer a key which he +claimed would open any door, big or small. It was a curious +contrivance, consisting of a steel rod into the end of which strangely +shaped projections could be screwed. Arthur had given it to his head +clerk as a souvenir, having no interest in such matters himself, and +rather scandalized that the firm was engaged in so discreditable a +business as defending a burglar. This souvenir had now become an +instrument of providence. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the place.” She still spoke in a whisper, though it was +hardly likely they could be overheard. +</p> + +<p> +In each corner of the room, facing them as they turned from the foot +of the stairs, was a small, narrow door, deeply recessed. They +reminded Mr. Gilder of the cell doors in Dartmoor, and there was a +further likeness in another respect. Near the top of the left-hand +door was a tiny iron grille, consisting of three rusted bars. +</p> + +<p> +“Look!” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +He flashed the light of the lamp inside, where a deep, narrow cavern +showed, along two sides of which ran a stone bench, and on the bench +were innumerable cylinders of significant shape. He inspected the +nearest; there was a curious seal at one end. +</p> + +<p> +Fabrian Gilder’s heart beat faster. The girl’s hand that held his arm +tightly was trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so frightened,” she whimpered. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you frightened about?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so afraid of that awful Black Abbot.” She was on the verge of +hysterical breakdown. He must work quickly. +</p> + +<p> +He was fitting one of the accessories to the rod, and he pushed it in +the big keyhole and turned. There was a grind and a click, but when he +pulled the door it was fast. Again he tried, fitting another steel +accessory, and on the third attempt the key turned with a horrible +squeak, and he pulled the door open. +</p> + +<p> +As he did so, the girl gripped his arm frenziedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Look! Oh, my God! Look!” she screamed, and he turned. +</p> + +<p> +Standing at the foot of the stairs was a figure in black, his face +hidden under a long cowl. Two eyes they saw, gleaming feverishly upon +them. Terrible, menacing, the Black Abbot was coldly surveying them! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch30"> +XXX +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">With</span> an oath, Gilder whipped a pistol from his pocket, but in doing +so the beam of his lamp fell for a second. When he brought it up +again, pistol extended, the figure had vanished. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t go, don’t go!” she shrieked, gripping his arm. “Oh, Mr. Gilder! +Oh, Fabrian—don’t leave me!” +</p> + +<p> +He thrust her aside and ran to the foot of the winding stairs and went +cautiously up. He heard the sobbing breath of the girl coming behind +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me in the dark!” she sobbed. +</p> + +<p> +Higher, higher, cautious, watchful, but no sign of a black habit. The +little room above was as they had left it; the tiny slit of a door was +open. +</p> + +<p> +Brushing past him, the girl stumbled and staggered into the open air +and collapsed on to her knees. +</p> + +<p> +“Take me away! Take me away!” she raved. “I wish I had never come!” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder turned with a curse and swung the stone door close, then, +half-carrying, half-dragging her, beside himself with fury, in which +was mingled no little fear, he brought her to the road and to the car. +</p> + +<p> +The rain was pouring down. He pushed back the hood of the car +savagely, so that the full force of the storm should beat upon her—he +dare not allow himself to be burdened with a fainting girl. He would +take her back to her flat and leave her—there would be plenty of time +for him to return and investigate those cylinders. +</p> + +<p> +As for the Black Abbot… he breathed a little more quickly when he +thought of that terrifying appearance. Whoever it was—and that it was +human he did not doubt—would live to regret this night’s +interference. +</p> + +<p> +By the time they reached Horsham, the girl, drenched to the skin, cold +and shivering, had got back a little of her balance. Her teeth were +chattering, but not with fear. She was inclined to be garrulous, but +he answered in monosyllables or not at all. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder I didn’t die,” she said. “I’ve never seen anything so +perfectly horribly ghastly! Did you see the way his eyes glared? They +looked as if they were alight, didn’t they, Fabe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fabrian,” he snapped. +</p> + +<p> +“I never saw anything like it, not even in the pictures,” said Miss +Wenner. “Couldn’t we have the hood up, Fabe—Fabrian?” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped the car with a jerk, pulled up the hood and fastened it. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you going to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m taking you home. We’ll make another attempt to-morrow night. By +the way, how did you get that stone corner piece to turn?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you that, Fabrian,” she said firmly and truly. “That’s +my only hold over you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be stupid. You used a bodkin or something, didn’t you? I +noticed there was a space between two stones which looked to be +artificial.” +</p> + +<p> +“A pair of scissors,” she said. “There’s an iron catch inside that +slit—I only found it by accident.” +</p> + +<p> +He knew all he wanted to know now; could dispense with her for the +rest of the night, forever, as it happened. He declined her invitation +to come upstairs for a drink, and no sooner was she out of sight than +he was flying back into Sussex. +</p> + +<p> +Halfway between Dorking and Leatherhead, his gasoline gave out, and he +had to wait on the charity of a passing motorist, and it was not a +night when traffic was very thick. At last he found a good Samaritan +who gave him enough to take the machine to the nearest filling +station, and at Dorking, with his tank replenished and a few extra +tins against emergency, he went on confidently. +</p> + +<p> +Two o’clock showed on the illuminated dial of his watch when he backed +the car into the field and mounted the slope to the ruins. From here +onward he moved noiselessly, one step at a time, stopping every few +paces to listen. But there was no sign or sound of the cowled figure. +</p> + +<p> +He found the corner of the tower, with his penknife pressed back the +catch, and, pulling at the rough stone, the edges of which crumbled in +his hand, he opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +Stopping only to examine the upper chamber, he went slowly down the +stairs, his pistol in one hand, his lamp in the other. There was no +sign of the intruder, but—— +</p> + +<p> +The door of the treasure house was closed. He pulled, and it swung +open. Flashing his lamp into the long, narrow cell, he saw something +that sent the blood from his face. The “ingots” had disappeared, every +one of them! Neither the bench to the left nor right held a single +cylinder. Beads of perspiration were running down his face as he +turned, and it would have been death to any human spook who opposed +him, for his heart was bitter against whosoever it was had checked his +enterprise. +</p> + +<p> +He made another inspection of the underground chamber. Unlike its +fellow, the second door in the opposite corner of the room was solid. +Neither peephole nor grating gave a view into the room it guarded. He +guessed that behind the nail-studded portal was a room similar to that +in which the cylinders had been stored. Trying his key on the lock, he +could produce no result. He put his shoulder to the oaken face but the +door did not budge by so much as a fraction of an inch. +</p> + +<p> +Before this room the flooring consisted of a long slab of stone that +ran without a break to the centre of the apartment, and was the exact +width of the narrow doorway. Had this any significance? Kneeling, he +examined the stone carefully. It was different from the rest of the +paving. The broken stones that formed the floor of the room were worn +smooth by the passage of generations of men; this oblong strip was +rough-dressed, more like the underside of a paving stone than its +chiselled surface. He stamped on one end and felt it give ever so +slightly; stamped on the other end and had a like experience. In the +middle ran a staple, balancing the stone, and beneath there was a +hollow space. Some day or night he would come along and conduct a more +careful inspection.… +</p> + +<p> +He came into the upper room to confront a more urgent problem. Just as +he was about to extinguish his lamp preparatory to passing through the +opening, he saw the stone move. Before he could spring forward it had +thudded into its place. From somewhere outside he heard an unearthly +chuckle of laughter. +</p> + +<p> +Trapped! He pushed at the door, but it was inflexible. Inch by inch he +examined its surface. There must be an opening somewhere, he thought. +He remembered the story of the amorous Abbot and his clandestine +excursions. It was certain that a means existed for opening the door +from the inside. +</p> + +<p> +He searched the wall; nothing appeared. And then it occurred to him to +send his light slowly along the floor, which was made up of broken +flagstones. One, smaller than the others, attracted his attention, +because it lay at a truer level than the rest, and he tugged at its +end, and, with great effort, pulled it up. Beneath he saw a great iron +ring, so rusted that it was almost razor-thin. With his handkerchief +he gripped it and pulled. It gave a little, and, as it did, he saw the +door move. Again he strained at the handle and slowly it came up; +although the door had moved only an inch he knew it was clear of the +invisible catch which held it. Running to the stone, he pressed with +all his might. It swung open and he came staggering out into the eerie +light of dawn. +</p> + +<p> +The storm had passed; overhead, the stars were shining in the paling +sky. Far away to his left a wisp of smoke curled up from the twisted +chimneys of Fossaway Manor. Fabrian Gilder wiped his hot face and +strove to overcome the bitterness of his defeat. And then, at his +feet, he saw something and, stooping with a cry, picked it up. It was +one of the cylinders, heavy and laden, that had been dropped by those +who had cleared the vault. It was not heavy enough for gold. He knew +that at once. The cover was of lead. He tore away the seal, expecting +to find an opening, but the cylinder had been sealed at both ends. He +carried it quickly down the slope, and in the shelter of the cut road +he took out his knife and slit the thin lead end, and pulled out a +tightly rolled sheet of parchment. He opened it and stared. It was an +ancient missal, beautifully painted and, as a work of art, priceless, +but a poor substitute for thirty-five pounds weight of solid gold! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch31"> +XXXI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">And</span> that was all the other cylinders contained, he thought, with a +gleam of satisfaction. Whoever had watched him—and he suspected +Arthur Gwyn naturally—had had the same disappointment. +</p> + +<p> +It was in this room that the old monks had stored their ancient music. +There was a certain grim humour in the thought of how he had spent his +night and the reward for it. +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the road, opened the gate, and went into the field where he +had left his car, and stood stock still, petrified with amazement. The +car had disappeared! +</p> + +<p> +The tracks were plainly visible. They led through the cutting, along +the road toward Willow House. There was nothing to do but to tramp +after them. A mile beyond Arthur Gwyn’s residence was Ravensrill +Cottage, his own property, he thought with some satisfaction, and a +snug retreat where a man could get a hot bath in an hour and a +steaming cup of tea in a quarter. The prospect was cheering, for he +was wet through, weary and footsore. +</p> + +<p> +The tracks passed the entrance of Willow House and continued on the +way to the cottage; and when at last he turned the bend of the road +that brought his little country home into view, he saw the car +standing before the door. There was no sign of any living creature. He +went round the house, searched the tiny plantation to the left, and +even descended to the banks of the stream, before he opened the door +of his cottage and went in. +</p> + +<p> +He put the key in the lock and, to his surprise, on the pressure of +his hand, the door opened. The door which opened into his little +dining-room yielded to his pressure before he could turn the key. He +gazed, stricken dumb with amazement. A small fire was burning in the +grate, on which a kettle was steaming. An open teapot was on the +hearth, and somebody had broken open a tin of biscuits. He heard a +footstep in the next room and swung round to meet the intruder; and at +the sight of him, he dropped the point of his levelled Browning. +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas!” he said, unable to believe his eyes. “What the devil are you +doing here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fired this morning,” said the ex-footman curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“This morning? Why, it’s hardly daylight!” +</p> + +<p> +Thomas nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Alford found me wandering about the house when I ought to have been +in bed and asleep,” he said, “and he hoofed me out.” +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” +</p> + +<p> +The man was uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“How do I know why?” he demanded. “That dog never liked me. I think he +suspected me of writing to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder knew that this story was a lie, designed to show him under an +obligation to this ex-servant. Thomas had been a useful correspondent +of his: all that went on at Fossaway Manor had been faithfully +recorded for his information. +</p> + +<p> +“You are in trouble. What have you been doing?” +</p> + +<p> +The man pursed his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Well…” he hesitated, “I may as well tell you the truth. Have you ever +heard of Monkey Puttler? Wait a minute, I’ll make the tea.” +</p> + +<p> +He picked up the steaming kettle and filled the pot, and not till he +had put it back on the hob did he continue his narrative. +</p> + +<p> +“Monkey Puttler’s a ‘busy.’ Every crook in London knows him, and I +know him as well as anybody because he got me three years for a job I +did at the Westinghouse Hotel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Burglary?” asked the other, to whom this was news. +</p> + +<p> +“An inside job,” said the other tersely. “You can call it burglary if +it gives you any pleasure. Anyway, Monkey caught me and pushed me over +the Alps for three long and weary ones. When I came out I got this +job. There were pickings to it, too. Chelford isn’t a man who counts +his change, and Alford doesn’t dare ask him what he’s done with his +money when he comes for more.” +</p> + +<p> +“An ex-convict, eh?” Gilder was slightly shocked and regarded the man +from a new angle. “I didn’t know that or I should never have employed +you!” +</p> + +<p> +“I had to kid a bit,” confessed Thomas, with a grin. +</p> + +<p> +“You kidded me all right!” replied Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I didn’t exactly kid you,” said the other, amused. “But that +day when I went to your office and you started cross-examining me +about how things were at the Manor with Gwyn, I didn’t see why I +shouldn’t earn a few honest dollars.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well? Go on about your friend Monkey—what is his name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Puttler. He came yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +“To Chelford’s house?” asked Gilder in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” nodded Thomas. “Alford pretended he is an accountant, but he’s +a busy all right; I knew him the moment I saw him, and, what’s worse, +he knew me. I’d come to Chelford’s service on a false character and I +knew my number was up as soon as I saw his ugly phiz. Sure enough, +last night Alford gave me notice, told me to clear out to-day. I’ll +catch that bird one of these days,” he said, with an ugly look in his +face. +</p> + +<p> +“But why this morning?” asked Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to tell you,” said the other impatiently. “Chelford keeps +a cash box in his library; it’s in the second left-hand drawer, and +he’s generally got a wad of stuff there. He’s childish in the matter +of money. I knew if I could get my hooks into the stuff I could lift +enough to be happy, and leave enough behind so that Chelford couldn’t +swear whether I’d had it or not. I got into the library about four +this morning, and was going upstairs when Alford spotted me, told me +to go up and dress and clear, which I did—he’s got something on his +mind, that fellow, he never sleeps!” +</p> + +<p> +“He caught you with the money?” asked Gilder in disgust. +</p> + +<p> +“Not he—I shoved that out of the library window as soon as I got it. +I picked it up later.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was Mr. Alford doing, wandering about the house at that hour?” +</p> + +<p> +The man made a grimace. +</p> + +<p> +“You never know when that bird is around,” he said. “He’s not human; I +tell you he doesn’t want sleep!” +</p> + +<p> +Though Gilder was certain he was telling the truth, he was equally +sure that the man was concealing something. There seemed to him to be +gaps in his story, which he bridged readily enough. Wisely he decided +that it was not the moment to cross-examine him. On one point he made +up his mind. This man and he must part company, and soon. +</p> + +<p> +“Why did you come here?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thought you were in London,” said the other coolly. “I’ve been here +before to see you, and I didn’t think you’d mind my using your house +for a day or two—maybe a week or two,” he added, his eyes fixed on +the other’s face. +</p> + +<p> +Gilder scratched his chin thoughtfully. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that it will do me much good if it’s known that you’re +an ex-convict.” +</p> + +<p> +“They needn’t know, why should they?” said the other. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you bring my car here?” +</p> + +<p> +Thomas nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I was going over to Red Farm first; there’s a groom there who’s a +friend of mine. Then I saw your car and thought something had happened +to you. I waited for a time, and when you didn’t turn up I brought it +along.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did anybody see you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody. It was nearly dark.” +</p> + +<p> +What was the man concealing? The impression that Gilder had—and he +was a skilful reader of minds—was that Thomas was bursting with some +vital information. Once or twice it had been at the end of his tongue, +and he had inhibited the sensation. +</p> + +<p> +“You can stay here if you like; I’m going to town. If I get a letter +from the local police saying you’re living in the house, I shall write +saying that you have no authority. You understand that I must protect +myself?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can understand that, guv’nor.” +</p> + +<p> +Again his lips moved to speak, and again he checked himself. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you want to tell me?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s too big to tell. I am going to keep it. Maybe if you come down +later I’ll spin you a story that’s worth a million dollars.” +</p> + +<p> +Thomas had once spent twelve months in a Canadian penitentiary, and it +was his favourite pose that he was an American crook. +</p> + +<p> +“A million dollars—yep!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch32"> +XXXII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Gilder</span> poured out the tea, helped himself to biscuits, and, his +hunger relieved, went into his room, and from a bureau took a complete +change of clothes. The water was too cold for a bath, and he had a rub +down with a rough towel as a substitute. He felt another man when +shaved and clean and warm. He came back to Thomas, who was smoking a +short briar pipe, peering into the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“When you’ve decided to talk, you had better send me a wire—not from +Chelfordbury but from Horsham.” +</p> + +<p> +He wrote his address on a page of his notebook, tore it out and gave +it to the man, then, cranking up his car, he went back through the +dull morning to London. +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock he was roused from a heavy sleep to answer the +telephone. It was Mary Wenner, and he cursed her under his breath. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Fabe? I’ve been so worried about you all night, my dear. +You didn’t go back to that awful place?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come and see you this afternoon,” he interrupted. “Don’t talk on +the telephone: people can hear.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fabe, dear”—there was a real note of anxiety in her voice—“you +didn’t go back and get any of that gold, did you? I know you’re +awfully brave, but I wouldn’t have you risk your life for the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I didn’t get any gold,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” she replied, and in that “Oh!” was disappointment and annoyance. +“It wasn’t so bad for you, a man,” she said, with some asperity in her +tone. “Here I’ve been laying in bed all night thinking of you, and +worrying about you——” +</p> + +<p> +“I will see you this afternoon,” he rasped, and hung up on her. +</p> + +<p> +He had no intention of seeing her that afternoon or any other +afternoon, but in this matter his will was not the determining factor. +Soon after tea, when he was preparing to go out, she walked into his +dining-room unannounced. What she had told his servants, he shuddered +to think. She passed swiftly across to him, stooped and kissed him +chastely on the brow, and then seated herself by his side. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear,” she said, and he closed his eyes patiently, “do you mind if I +do something that seems a teeny-weeny bit deceitful?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t mind——” he began. +</p> + +<p> +“But this is something which affects your honour, dear.” Her sober +eyes were fixed on his. “You must never think I’m not faithful to you +and all that sort of thing, but he’s written to me such a pleading +letter——” +</p> + +<p> +“Who has written?” he asked, suddenly interested. +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur. I’ve also had a letter from his sister; she wants me to go +down and spend the week-end with them, and of course I’d much rather +stay up here with you. But I feel I ought to have it out with Arthur +and let him know that my affections are no longer his. After all, even +if we didn’t get the fortune, I know that I’m dealing with a gentleman +who doesn’t want me for my money alone. And you’re not exactly a +pauper, are you, dear? I went and asked a young gentleman I know at +Stubbs’ Agency, and they told me that you were worth at least a +hundred thousand pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“And I have your promise, in writing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, you’ve got everything, my dear Mary,” he said wearily. +</p> + +<p> +“And, Fabe, dear, such a curious thing happened about that paper. When +I took it from under my pillow this morning what do you think? All the +writing had disappeared! You could have knocked me down with a +feather.” +</p> + +<p> +He stirred uneasily in his chair. +</p> + +<p> +“That is most extraordinary,” he found words to say. +</p> + +<p> +“I was so upset about it that I took it to a gentleman friend of mine, +who’s in the conjuring business. You’ve probably seen him: he takes +rabbits out of paper bags, and he says that you must have used +invisible ink, and he showed me how to bring the writing back and make +it permanent.” +</p> + +<p> +“And did you?” asked Gilder hollowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course I did, dear. You just squeeze a lemon, rub it over the +paper and hold it in front of the fire.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder’s head reeled. All he could say was “Oh!” This was +awkward—very awkward; but it was a difficulty that might easily be +surmounted. At the worst he could buy her off for a thousand, and the +promise of marriage was contingent.… Still it was a very unpleasant +document to be produced even in a breach of promise case; for, strong +in the faith of the invisible quality of his ink, he had made an +agreement which was very damaging to himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to stay with the Gwyns?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think so, dear.” The hesitation was assumed, he knew; she had +already made up her mind. “I really think that I ought to go. Arthur, +of course, is a very old friend, and although he’s nothing to me, any +more than the dirt beneath my feet, and I should no more think of +throwing myself at his head than I should of flying to the moon—well, +I feel I ought to go.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, for heaven’s sake, go!” he said curtly, and she murmured her +thanks, and would have lingered on, but he accompanied her to the door +and opened it very pointedly. +</p> + +<p> +He gathered that, whilst she held him to his promise, she had not +altogether lost hope of bringing Arthur Gwyn to heel. +</p> + +<p> +She had hardly left the place before a telegraph boy arrived. Gilder +was expecting a wire from one of his bookmaking businesses, now in +process of liquidation, since their only client had passed from active +operations. The telegram was addressed from a village five miles from +Chelfordbury and ran: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Get down here as fast as you can. Big news for you. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +It was signed “T.” +</p> + +<p> +Would Thomas talk? And what had he to say? +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch33"> +XXXIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> groom who brought Dick Alford’s horse to the door had a report +to make. +</p> + +<p> +“That fellow was seen last night, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Which fellow is this?” asked Dick, as he swung into the saddle. +</p> + +<p> +“The Black Abbot, sir. Gill, the gamekeeper up at Long Meadow Cottage, +saw him at four o’clock this morning walking through the long meadow. +By the time Gill got his gun he’d vanished.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what was the Black Abbot doing in the Long Meadow?” asked Dick +sardonically. “Picking buttercups?” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s rather late for buttercups, sir,” said the unimaginative groom. +“But Gill says that if he’d had his gun he’d have taken a pot at him.” +</p> + +<p> +“And there would have been an inquest, and the best Gill could hope +for would be a verdict of justifiable homicide. You can tell Gill from +me that the Black Abbot is to be tackled—by hand! A live ghost will +tell us a lot, but a dead ghost is practically useless as an +information bureau.” +</p> + +<p> +He cantered through the home meadows, behind the house, and, avoiding +the Abbey ruins, rejoined the winding Ravensrill. Setting his horse at +a walk, he followed the bank of the stream, his mind so completely +occupied by the events of the past twenty-four hours that he would +have passed unnoticed the girl who was lying face downward on the +opposite bank. +</p> + +<p> +It was a glorious morning, warm and sunny. The sky was an unblemished +blue, the world was bathed in yellow radiance. Overhead, a flight of +migratory birds were moving southward, and the faint chatter of them +came down to him.… +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Sir Galahad!” +</p> + +<p> +He reined up his horse and looked round in bewilderment. Presently he +saw her. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Guinevere!” he said, and, turning his horse’s head to +the stream, he came gingerly down the slope and sent the reluctant +horse into the water. +</p> + +<p> +“Be careful!” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a ford here,” he said. “In fact,” as he emerged with his +horse’s girth dripping, “this is the original Chelford. Knights in +armour, and probably Britons in feathers and woad, have crossed +Ravensrill at this spot. What on earth are you doing?” +</p> + +<p> +He slipped to the ground, dropping the reins, and allowed his mount to +forage at will. She was lying now at full length, but resting on her +elbows. Immediately beneath her face was a slab of rock in the centre +of which a hole some eighteen inches in diameter had been worn. When +he saw this he laughed softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie, what questions have you to ask the Wishing Well?” +</p> + +<p> +Why it was called the Wishing Well he had never learnt—no water had +ever risen from that deep cavity which, by some freak of nature, +extended to unplumbed depths. Yet here, generations of country swains +had come to prostrate themselves and bellow into the cavity the burden +of their hearts’ desire. And tradition had it that the well answered +them clearly and intelligibly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m asking about me.” Her face was pink, probably from her unusual +posture. +</p> + +<p> +“And what said the well?” he mocked. +</p> + +<p> +She scrambled to her knees and pushed back the hair from her forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll not tell you. Ask something!” +</p> + +<p> +With a growl and a groan he stretched himself on the warm grass and, +hollowing his hands, roared into the crevice: +</p> + +<p> +“What is going to happen to Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +They waited, and then the echo came back, queerly distorted yet +distinct. +</p> + +<p> +“Marry her!” +</p> + +<p> +They laughed together. It was the trick of some hollow place below +that through the ages had sent back the same reply to every question. +</p> + +<p> +He got up to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you wouldn’t wander around without my escort,” he said +seriously, and she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +Never had he seen her looking more beautiful than that morning. She +was a thing of air and sunlight, a baffling unreality that did not +belong to the sordid world in which he was living. +</p> + +<p> +“I got up early and was bored, so I went walking, and then I thought +of the well and wondered whether it had learnt any new tricks. +Arthur’s very conscious of his eye and he won’t go out until his face +is normal. Poor Arthur!” She hesitated, looking at him. “You haven’t +found——” She did not finish the sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“The gentleman who did the shooting? No, but we have a pretty shrewd +idea. By the way, I have fired Thomas. You remember that hang-dog +footman who was always near at hand when he shouldn’t have been?” +</p> + +<p> +“What has he done?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing particular. He is an ex-convict: Puttler recognized him as +soon as he arrived; and I found him at three o’clock this morning +coming out of the library and made him turn out his pockets. He had no +very considerable sum of money in his possession, but the chances are +that he had cached it. Poor old Harry is such a slacker in the matter +of keeping accounts that it will be almost impossible to secure a +conviction. Of course, Thomas swore the money we found—not a large +amount—was his, and as it meant a fuss in waking up Harry, who I am +perfectly sure could have given us no information, we allowed the +brute to get away with it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is he now?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas? I expect he caught the first train for London. I don’t +suppose he’ll be applying for a job in the neighbourhood, but to be on +the safe side you had better tell your brother.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a moment of silence, then she asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Did you find the rifle?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“It was an army rifle, but there isn’t such a thing at Fossaway Manor, +though there are plenty in the village. In fact, nearly a dozen of our +people working on the estate are Territorials. Puttler says that a +poacher’s gang was responsible.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was a poor liar, but Leslie suspected nothing and did not +question this theory. If she had, she might have pointed out that +poachers use shotguns and snares, and that the rifle as an instrument +for the destruction of game was about as valuable as a steam-hammer +for tacking down carpets. +</p> + +<p> +They walked across the field toward Willow House, Dick leading his +horse. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to make me a promise, Leslie,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked, knowing before he spoke what it would be. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to promise me not to take these early morning walks, to +use your car and to keep to the roads.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyebrows rose. +</p> + +<p> +“Why? Surely there is no danger? You’re not afraid of the Black +Abbot?” +</p> + +<p> +But he did not answer her smile. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said. “I’m not afraid especially of the Black Abbot, but I’m +very much afraid of the something that is behind the Black Abbot.” +</p> + +<p> +She knew that he did not wish to be questioned further, and changed +the subject. She had a visitor coming, she told him, and only when she +told him who it was, did his eyes twinkle. +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord! That lady? I suppose you realize you’re harbouring a +dangerous rival?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be horrid, Dick. The poor girl was very fond of Harry, and in +the letter she wrote to me she told me that she hoped I wouldn’t be +embarrassed by her coming——” +</p> + +<p> +“She would say that,” said Dick grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“—and that she had almost forgotten Harry’s stupid infatuation.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick stopped to laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you beat that?” he asked, with tears in his eyes. “Jumping +snakes! ‘Harry’s stupid infatuation’! Well, I won’t be ungenerous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t,” she warned him. “I’m rather sorry for the girl.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t,” he mimicked. “You need never be sorry for Mary. If you keep +her off the subject of me, you’ll have a very pleasant week-end. But +in the matter of Richard Alford she is a fanatic. I won’t tell you the +horrid things she says of me, because it would prejudice you against +her.” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know?” she challenged. “Quite a number of people say +horrid things about Richard Alford.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to you,” he said quietly, and she flushed and again changed the +subject. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know why I’m up so early; I didn’t go to bed till two.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was ten minutes past two when your light went out,” he said +promptly, and she stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know?” +</p> + +<p> +“I happened to be passing your house.” +</p> + +<p> +He was in such a hurry to explain that she was suspicious. +</p> + +<p> +“The Black Abbot was about last night. Puttler and I did a little +ghost-hunting.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you see him?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nobody saw him except a terrified gamekeeper.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she turned to him with a little gasp of surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“It <i>was</i> you!” she accused. +</p> + +<p> +“What was me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure I saw somebody at the lower end of the drive. You were +smoking a cigar: I could see the little red glow; and at first I +thought it was Harry, and this morning I found the end of the cigar +near the lodge gates—Richard Alford, do you ever sleep?” +</p> + +<p> +“Frequently,” he said, with a smile, and put his arm round her +shoulder. “I’m being brotherly: take no alarm,” he mocked her. +“Leslie, dear, will you promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“What?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Not to wander through the fields at odd hours. I don’t want to alarm +you—I feel a brute as it is—but there may be real danger for the +next day or two. Please don’t ask me what it is, because I can’t tell +you; I’m not so sure that I know.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned this over in her mind for a long time. +</p> + +<p> +“Has it to do with the Chelford treasure?” she asked, and, to her +surprise, he nodded. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch34"> +XXXIV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">In sight</span> of her house he left her, and, remounting his horse, +cantered away. She watched him until a bend of the road hid him from +view, and then with a little sigh she walked slowly toward her home. +</p> + +<p> +What was the mystery? She had never taken the Black Abbot very +seriously, believing that the apparition had its origin in a stupid +practical joke carried out by a villager with a histrionic bent. The +legend she knew; Dick had told her, and Harry, who kept alive all the +legends of the family, had described in detail the +eight-hundred-year-old murder. But how was the Black Abbot affecting +her? And what was the meaning of this close guard that Dick Alford was +keeping on her? She had no doubt that it was he who was watching the +house in the early hours of the morning. +</p> + +<p> +In the night she had reached a momentous decision. It had been made +after long thought and heart-searching, and she would have given +everything to have had the courage to tell Dick that morning. But in +that bright, sunlit world she was averse to hurting him. But would he +be hurt? Her life’s future hung on that question. +</p> + +<p> +She had been dimly conscious that a man was standing before the gate +of Willow House. She had seen him when she was some distance away, and +now, as she drew near, she had a feeling that he was waiting to speak +to her. He was tall and wearing an ill-fitting gray suit and a golf +cap; from his lips drooped a limp cigarette. He took his hands out of +his pockets as she came near and touched his cap, and then she +recognized the ill-favoured Thomas, the ex-footman. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, miss,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Thomas.” +</p> + +<p> +She viewed with more interest than she had done heretofore the lank, +awkwardly made man. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if I can have a word with you, miss?” +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I can do nothing for you, Thomas,” she said. “Mr. Alford +tells me he has discharged you.” +</p> + +<p> +He forced a grin. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Alford never did like me, miss,” he said. “I’ve been falsely +accused, and I’m going to see my lawyer when I get to town. One +minute, miss,” he said hastily, as she was opening the gate. “I could +tell you something that would be worth a lot to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Her gray eyes fixed him in a steady stare. +</p> + +<p> +“You can tell me nothing that would be of the slightest value, +Thomas——” she began. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, couldn’t I!” His head went up and down in a succession of nods. +He was ludicrously like a nodding mandarin she had on her writing +table. “You don’t know what I know. I could tell you something, and I +could tell Mr. Gwyn something that nobody don’t know. People talk +about the Chelford treasure——” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want to hear any more,” she said, and, turning, walked up the +drive. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he glared after her as though he contemplated following, +but thought better of it, and, lighting the cigarette which had gone +out, he slouched back to his borrowed home. And then an idea occurred +to him. Beyond the low wooden fence was a thick belt of laurels. If +one of his plans were carried out and he had to make a quick exit from +Chelfordbury, it might be worth while to reconnoitre this house. He +jumped over the fence and made a cautious progress through the +bushes.… +</p> + +<p> +“Who’s that you were speaking to, Leslie?” Arthur Gwyn was lying in a +deck chair on the lawn, his eye covered with a piece of white lint. +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“The footman from Fossaway? What did he bring—a message?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he’s been discharged,” she said as she passed him. “Dick suspects +him of stealing, and he sent him about his business this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen Dick, then?” he asked in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I met him; he was riding over to see the miller.” She lingered +at the back of the chair. +</p> + +<p> +“You always seem to be meeting that fellow,” he mused, with a frown. +“It is ‘Dick this’ and ‘Dick that.’ Do you think it’s wise, Leslie, +playing with fire and all that sort of thing? You never tell me you +meet Harry——” +</p> + +<p> +“Harry never comes out of his library,” she said with a smile, “and +it’s difficult to miss Dick if you’re out of doors. Not that I’ve ever +tried to miss him.” +</p> + +<p> +He took out his cigarette and looked at it thoughtfully, his lips +pursed. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick’s a good fellow,” he said again, “and it is unnecessary for me +to remind you that he is a second son, and as poor as a church mouse. +Yes, Leslie, I’m going to insist on that poverty. After all, you’re +not marrying a pauper in Harry. And I tell you frankly that it is +necessary that you should marry a rich man!” +</p> + +<p> +The truth was coming—she braced herself to meet it. +</p> + +<p> +“Who will also take my fortune on trust,” she said quietly. “If I +married Dick, who is a business man, he might ask to see my bonds and +shares——” +</p> + +<p> +A tense moment of silence, then: +</p> + +<p> +“There are no bonds or shares!” +</p> + +<p> +He had to set his teeth to make his confession. He could not see her +face; he dared not look round or meet her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“There are no bonds or shares?” she repeated slowly. “Then what I said +in the car was right? I am penniless!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch35"> +XXXV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> truth was out. Leslie stood rigidly behind her brother, looking +down on him. +</p> + +<p> +“I am penniless!” she repeated. +</p> + +<p> +He had to wet his dry lips before he could speak. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been trying to work up courage to tell you this for a long +time,” he said. “I’m a coward—a cur! You have a few thousand pounds +that I couldn’t handle, but every other penny of your fortune I have +spent!” His voice was hoarse, scarcely recognizable. “You’ll have to +know this sooner or later; you might as well know it now. I don’t know +what you’ll think of me. I’d like to say that I didn’t care, but that +wouldn’t be the truth. I’ve gambled away a quarter of a million, and +I’m as near to bankruptcy and ruin as makes no difference.” +</p> + +<p> +He pulled the lint bandage from his eye and got up and faced her. Save +for the discolouration of his cheek, he was white as chalk. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d no intention of telling you,” he said in a low voice, “but you +piqued me into it, and I’m glad it’s over.” +</p> + +<p> +Raising his eyes to hers, he did not see the look of condemnation he +expected. There was neither contempt nor consternation in her face. +The red lips were curved in a half-smile, and in her eyes was nothing +but kindliness and pity. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God!” she said in a low voice, and he could not understand her. +</p> + +<p> +“This means, of course, that Chelford will have to take you without a +fortune,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I have already written to Harry, breaking off my engagement,” she +answered him. And then her arm slipped into his. “Let us go in to +breakfast,” she said. “This is one of the happiest days of my life.” +</p> + +<p> +The letter came to Harry Alford, Earl of Chelford, with two or three +other personal letters; his main correspondence was with London +booksellers, for he was a restless collector of ancient tomes. He +looked at the letter, recognizing the handwriting, frowned, and turned +it over. Then, with some evidence of annoyance, he slit the flap. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dear Harry</span>: +</p> + +<p> +I have thought for a long time that we have so little in common that a +marriage between us could not possibly lead to happiness for either of +us. I suppose the correct thing to do would be to send back my +engagement ring, but fortunately or unfortunately, you forgot to +present me with this token! I wish you every happiness, and I hope +that we shall still be good friends. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Harry read the letter, rubbed his forehead in perplexity, then, rising +from his chair, almost ran from the library. Dick was on the lawn, +playing with his dog, when his brother burst into the little study. +</p> + +<p> +“I say, look at this! What do you think of it?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick read the letter with a troubled face. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry!” said Harry shrilly. “It’s disgraceful! I shall look a perfect +fool! Leslie’s treated me very badly indeed—but that reference to the +engagement ring is in shocking bad taste.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought you’d given her one,” said the patient Dick. “Didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a barbarous and stupid practice. I never dreamt of giving her a +ring. Why should I? She had a ring, a beautiful one. You must have +seen it—a diamond that she always wears. What is the sense of it? The +reference is in very bad taste—shocking!” +</p> + +<p> +And yet, in spite of his agitation and anger, Dick thought he detected +relief in his brother’s voice. But his vanity had been hurt, and that +is a sore place with many men of greater calibre than Lord Chelford. +</p> + +<p> +“Without any warning.… She was here yesterday, but said not a word +about it!” +</p> + +<p> +“You hardly gave her a chance,” said Dick. “You scarcely spoke to her, +and really, Harry, you took no trouble to entertain her. Be +reasonable.” +</p> + +<p> +Harry fondled his chin and glared through the thick lenses of his +horn-rimmed spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose not,” he said, with sudden mildness. “But, really, I’m not +a marrying man. I want no more than my books and my mission. But I’m +going to look a fool over this business, Dick.” His anger was rising +again. “Everybody in the county knows we’re engaged, and they’ll come +prying around to discover what is wrong. We shall have those beastly +newspaper men sitting on the front step, and that is more than I can +endure!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let them come to me,” said Dick. “I’ll give them all the +explanation they need, and they’ll be sorry they asked. As for +newspaper men—I eat ’em alive!” +</p> + +<p> +Still his brother was not wholly mollified. +</p> + +<p> +“What made her do it? Do you think she’s found somebody else she likes +better?” He peered at Dick in his short-sighted way. “That would make +it even worse. I’m very annoyed with Arthur Gwyn. He threw this girl +at me——” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t let us talk about it,” said Dick sharply. “It isn’t a very +dignified attitude to take.” +</p> + +<p> +His brother looked at the letter dubiously. +</p> + +<p> +“What am I to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Write a charming letter, freeing her,” said Dick. “You can do no +less.” +</p> + +<p> +“But do you think she’s got another man in her eye?” demanded Harry. +</p> + +<p> +“She has probably a dozen,” said the other brutally. “Do as I tell +you, Harry.” +</p> + +<p> +And Harry Chelford went grumbling back to the library. +</p> + +<p> +So she had done it! Dick hardly knew whether to be elated or +depressed. A week ago he would have been the happiest man in England; +to-day… he shrugged his broad shoulders, pulled his pipe from his +pocket, and savagely stuffed tobacco into the bowl. This would mean a +break, for a time, at any rate, between the Gwyns and Harry, and there +arose an alarming thought. Suppose Harry transferred his legal +business to another firm? That would mean ruin for Arthur Gwyn. Dick +had so far been able to cover up the defalcations of Leslie Gwyn’s +brother, and in a few months he could have obliterated all trace +without hurt to the estate. But at this stage, if Harry insisted—— +</p> + +<p> +“His lordship would like to see you, sir.” The second footman had come +up unnoticed behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Dick steeled himself for the interview and went in. His brother was +sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, his hair rumpled, and an +angry frown puckering the white skin of his forehead. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, I’m going to cut out these Gwyns,” he said. “I want you to ask +your lawyers to take over from Arthur, and tell them to be deuced +careful and check every item. That fellow handles my mother’s estate, +and roughly I think he must have nearly fifty thousand pounds in +securities. If there’s a penny missing, Dick, I’ll jail the fellow—I +will, by God! He’s made a fool of me before all the county, and if I +get half a chance I’m going to get back on him.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick’s heart sank. +</p> + +<p> +“What lawyers do you suggest?” +</p> + +<p> +“Sampson & Howard. They’re good people and they’re not too friendly +with Arthur. Will you take that in hand, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick Alford nodded. As soon as he could escape from his brother’s +presence, he went round to the garage and, taking out his car, drove +to Willow House. Arthur was still on the lawn, walking up and down, +and from his attitude of depression Dick gathered that something +unusual had happened. Possibly he had been told about the breaking off +of the engagement. But here he attributed the wrong cause. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see you, Gwyn.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn started and turned at the sound of the voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” he said awkwardly. “Does Harry know?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And he’s very angry, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“He is rather furious. That’s what I’ve come to see you about. Where +is Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +“She’s in the house. Do you want her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick quietly. “I want to talk with you. Come for a walk +with me.” +</p> + +<p> +They strolled out of all possibility of earshot from the house, and +then: +</p> + +<p> +“Harry has decided to take the legal management of the estate out of +your hands, Gwyn,” he said. “He spoke to me this morning of some funds +that you’re handling—about fifty thousand pounds’ worth of stock from +the late Lady Chelford’s estate. Is that money intact?” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur did not answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that money intact?” asked Dick again. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the other huskily; “not a penny of it.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick stared at the man in horror. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean the money is lost?” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I was persuaded to put it into an oil-field in Texas. The shares +are not worth two cents a thousand.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick groaned. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you fool, you cussed fool!” he muttered. “Don’t you realize what +this means? I can’t cover you up now, not even for Leslie’s sake. You +madman!” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn passed his hand wearily over his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the use of ragging me?” he asked plaintively. “I’ve been +expecting this trouble, and have lived under the shadow of it for +years. I’ll have to take my medicine.” +</p> + +<p> +“And Leslie?” asked Dick sternly. “What of her? Has she to take your +medicine, too?” +</p> + +<p> +The man’s pallid face was distorted painfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk about Leslie, for God’s sake!” he said. “That’s the worst +of it. I’m not scared of Dartmoor or bankruptcy or anything. Leslie’s +the only fear I have.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you raise the money?” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur gave a harsh little laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Raise it? How do you think I can raise fifty thousand?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have no friends?” +</p> + +<p> +The lawyer’s lips curled. +</p> + +<p> +“Not fifty thousand pounds’ worth,” he said curtly. “No, I’m afraid, +Alford, I’ve got to go through with it. I’ve been a blackguard, a +vain, stupid fool—I’ve asked for all that is coming to me and I shall +not squeal.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was silent, going over the problem that this horrible situation +presented. Arthur could go to prison and stay there for the rest of +his life, for all he cared… but Leslie: this would break her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“There is one thing I want you to promise me——” he began, as he +foresaw one possible solution which might present itself to Arthur’s +mind. +</p> + +<p> +The lawyer smiled and nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“You can trust me,” he said. “I’ve got some sort of religion tucked +away inside my system. Self-destruction is not my idea of a +gentleman’s solution. I tell you I’ll stand up to anything that comes, +and I’m not going to blow my brains out and leave a coroner’s jury of +yokels and carpenters to discuss my private affairs and probe into my +iniquities. When will the transfer take place?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve got a week yet,” said Dick. “I can hold it up for that long; +but once the papers are in the hands of the other lawyers, nothing can +save you.” +</p> + +<p> +A week! Arthur Gwyn pinched his lower lip in meditation. Seven days. +So far as he was concerned, if he had seven years to make reparation +he could not see daylight. +</p> + +<p> +“And get out of your mind that you’re going to find the Chelford +treasure,” said Dick, and the shock made the man jump. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, how do you know——” he stammered. +</p> + +<p> +“I know all about that. I tell you that you can cut it out. That isn’t +a solution. It’s only robbing Peter to pay Peter; for if there is any +gold—and heaven knows I doubt it—it belongs to Harry and must go to +Harry. What about Leslie’s fortune? Of course that is non-existent. +Does she know?” +</p> + +<p> +“I told her this morning,” said the man, and now Dick understood his +depression. “She took it like a brick; in fact, she seemed almost +happy about it. And why, I can’t for the life of me understand. Women +are queer things.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know one woman who is the most wonderful thing in the world,” said +Dick softly. +</p> + +<p> +He did not wait to see Leslie, but left as hurriedly as he came, and +the man who had been lying at full length beneath the laurel bushes +waited till the two men had disappeared, and then crawled painfully +and carefully back to the road, mounted the wall, and stepped out for +the nearest telegraph office to send his news. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch36"> +XXXVI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mr. Gilder</span> arrived at his cottage in the evening and found his +“tenant” sitting on the doorstep smoking a pipe. Fortunately, the +cottage was in the middle of a thin plantation of trees, and the river +at the back made an approach from that direction impossible. +Nevertheless, Mr. Gilder was alarmed at the lack of precaution the man +showed. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re going to stay here you’ve got to keep inside the house. I +tell you I don’t want people to know that you’re living here. Now, +what is the big news?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come inside,” said Thomas, with a grin, and his host felt that the +invitation into his own house was a little superfluous. +</p> + +<p> +Thomas was not a good story-teller, and it was with many “You see what +I mean’s” and at inordinate length that he unravelled his tangled +narrative. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d been hanging round the house all the morning. I wanted to have a +talk with the young lady——” +</p> + +<p> +“What about?” demanded the other. +</p> + +<p> +“About a certain thing——” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, see here, Thomas: you’re not to speak to Miss Gwyn—do you +understand? You’re not to approach her and you’re not to go anywhere +near the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, it’s not a bad thing that I was there this morning,” grinned +Thomas. “Because I heard something that will make you jump!” +</p> + +<p> +It took half-an-hour for him to repeat, with more or less accuracy, +the conversation he had heard on the lawn. When he came to the vital +point, Mr. Gilder whistled. +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn had managed the Chelford estate without his assistance, +and Gilder was as ignorant of the particulars of the property as if it +were in some other office. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty thousand, eh?” he mused. “Well, that’s more than Arthur Gwyn +will collect in a hurry.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what he said himself,” said Thomas. “He said to Alford: +‘Friends? Well, I haven’t got fifty thousand pounds’ worth’—those +were his very words. He said, ‘I’ll go to Dartmoor, and that doesn’t +worry me. What worries me is Leslie.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear when the transfer was to be completed—I mean, when the +stocks were to be handed over to the other lawyers?” +</p> + +<p> +“In a week,” said Thomas. “Mr. Alford said, ‘I can hold it up for a +week but I can’t keep it any longer. And once those papers are in the +other bloke’s hands, your name is mud.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Fifty thousand pounds! Gilder paced up and down the narrow room, his +hands behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“You say that the engagement with his lordship is broken off?” +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t say so,” said the man, “but that’s how I took it. He said +‘Was Harry very annoyed?’ That’s his lordship. And Alford said ‘Yes, +and he’s going to change his lawyers.’ And he said, ‘What about +Leslie’s fortune?’——” +</p> + +<p> +“Call her Miss Gwyn, will you?” interrupted Gilder roughly. +</p> + +<p> +“He didn’t say Miss Gwyn, he said ‘Leslie.’ But to oblige you I’ll say +Miss Gwyn,” said Thomas. “He said, ‘What about Miss Gwyn’s fortune? Is +that gone?’ And Gwyn said, ‘Yes, every penny.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +This was no news to Gilder—Arthur had told him as much. +</p> + +<p> +“And here, Mr. Gilder—the Black Abbot was around last night. I’ve got +an idea about him! His lordship’s scared to death of the Black Abbot. +Did you know that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t talk to me about the Black Abbot!” snapped the man. He wanted +to work this thing out, and the chatter of his guest disturbed him. +“You keep inside and out of sight. I think you’d better go to London +to-night. You’ve got money?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got a bit of money. I was a fool! There’s an old-fashioned diary +in that library that his lordship would give a couple of thousand +pounds to get back, and I had it in my hand! That is the thing I ought +to have pinched.” +</p> + +<p> +“And if it was found on you, you’d have been in prison. As it was, you +had taken money and you got away with it.” +</p> + +<p> +This point of view had not struck the ex-convict before. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s true,” he agreed. “Lord! what a headpiece you’ve got, Mr. +Gilder! If I had your brains——” +</p> + +<p> +But Mr. Gilder was not in a mood for flattery. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got an idea,” Thomas went on, unconscious of the distraction he +was causing. “Let me go up to London to-night and come down +to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +But Gilder did not hear him. Fifty thousand pounds! And for that price +he could buy—Leslie Gwyn! His pulse quickened at the thought. There +were no “ifs” or “buts.” She would gladly make that sacrifice for her +brother’s sake. This time he had them all in the hollow of his hand: +Leslie, Arthur Gwyn, and last, but not least in dislike, Dick Alford. +</p> + +<p> +Mentally he reviewed his financial position. He had considerably more +than a hundred thousand pounds in gilt-edged securities, which were +easily realizable—or transferable. He had house property in the north +of London, and a fairly large fluid balance at the bank. And he was +fifty. There were fifteen years of life ahead of him—fifteen happy +years. How could he better use his money than in buying happiness? The +life companionship of that fragrant thing, and afterward a will +whereby she lost all interest in his property if she married +again—Mr. Gilder thought a long way ahead. And his marriage would be +a knife in the heart of the Second Son, for he guessed Dick Alford’s +secret. +</p> + +<p> +He saw his way now; the plan was foolproof and invincible. Nothing +stood between him and the realization of what had once been a wild and +foolish hope. +</p> + +<p> +“A week? You’re sure of that?” +</p> + +<p> +Thomas nodded. His cunning eyes had not left Gilder’s face. +Unconscious of the curious scrutiny, Fabrian asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you think this news is interesting to me?” +</p> + +<p> +The man grinned and closed his right eye in a significant wink. +</p> + +<p> +“Didn’t you ask me to tell you how often the young lady went to +Fossaway Manor? Didn’t you tell me to write everything that happened +between her and his lordship?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder was silent. +</p> + +<p> +It was not a comfortable thought that he had employed such a man as +this to watch the girl he loved. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d better keep close here,” he said. “I don’t want you to be seen +by the villagers or by the people from Fossaway Manor. Does anybody +know you’re here?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir. Not even Miss Gwyn: she never asked——” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder interrupted him brusquely. +</p> + +<p> +“If you’re going to town, go by night, and come back by night. I’m not +so sure that it won’t be a good idea to stay here after all.” +</p> + +<p> +He got back to London late in the evening and spent the night in a +strict examination of his finances. He had dismissed from his mind all +thoughts of the Chelford treasure. Mary Wenner had certainly +justification for her confidence. He himself had been deceived when he +had looked through the grating and seen those cylinders neatly +arranged on the stone bench. Who had moved them—the Black Abbot? +There must be some explanation for him. But he had his own ideas on +the subject, and the moment had not yet arrived when he could test his +theory. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning he spent in the City and at Somerset House, examining +the will of the late Lady Chelford. Her legacies were set forth in +detail, and the character of the shares and stocks with which Arthur +Gwyn had been entrusted were particularized, and John Henry Gwyn, +Arthur’s uncle, named as trustee. A search of the court files failed +to reveal any successor to Arthur’s uncle, and apparently no trustee +had been appointed, the stocks being left in Arthur’s care. He would +of course have authority to sell and reinvest, and there would be no +trouble if shares of a corresponding value were handed over to Harry +Chelford’s new solicitors. +</p> + +<p class="spacer"> +* * * +</p> + +<p> +Arthur Gwyn had spent a very busy day in the seclusion of his study. +His task was not a pleasant one: he was putting in order the chaos of +his affairs, and as the list of his liabilities grew, he himself +seemed to grow older. +</p> + +<p> +He had interrupted his work only to lunch with his sister, and Leslie, +who thought that the cause of his distress was her vanished fortune, +did her best to cheer him. His first act had been to gather on paper +the remnants of her vanished quarter of a million, and the remnant was +pitiably small, amounting to less than two thousand pounds. He told +her this at lunch. +</p> + +<p> +“But that’s really a much larger amount than I expected, Arthur,” she +smiled. “We shall be able to live for two years on that.” +</p> + +<p> +It was in his mind to say that he would possibly be living for five +years on less, but he wanted to avert that news until it was +inevitable that she should know. +</p> + +<p> +At five o’clock she was having tea in solitary state when the maid +brought her a card. She had not heard the arrival of the visitor’s +motor car, for the drawing-room was at the back of the house. She took +the card and read it. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think I want to see this gentleman,” she said. “Will you ask +Mr. Gwyn——” +</p> + +<p> +And then she remembered the struggle on the lawn and Arthur’s damaged +eye. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’ll see him,” she said. “Ask him to come in.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder was dressed as for an official visit. He carried a glossy silk +hat, an incongruous sight in the country, in his gloved hand; his +morning coat sported a large yellow rose; his patent shoes shone +violently. Before he came to Willow House he had called at his own +cottage to refresh his memory on one or two points, but the house was +empty. Thomas had evidently gone up to town, as he had said he would. +At first he was annoyed, but later he was glad that the man was not +there. After all, he knew enough, more than enough for the comfort of +Leslie Gwyn. +</p> + +<p> +She met him with a distant little bow. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you will not regard me as a welcome visitor, Miss Gwyn,” +he said; “but I have a little business to discuss with you, and I +should be grateful if you would give me a few minutes of your time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you sit down, please?” she said coldly. +</p> + +<p> +He was gazing at her with that queer, hungry look she had seen in his +face before. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand your engagement with Lord Chelford is broken off?” And, +when she did not answer: “It was partly that which brought me here, +and partly something much more serious—something,” he said, with +distinct deliberation, “which affects you very closely, Miss Gwyn.” +</p> + +<p> +He paused, expecting a reply, but received none. She sat bolt upright +in one of the deep chairs that abounded in the room, her hands folded +lightly on her lap, her gaze fixed on his. +</p> + +<p> +“I was, as you probably know, for many years your brother’s right-hand +man. In consequence, I have a very intimate knowledge of his affairs; +and not only his affairs but the affairs of his clients. I know, for +example, that your large fortune is mythical.” +</p> + +<p> +If he had expected to shock her he was disappointed. She nodded +slightly. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that also, Mr. Gilder,” she said. “I hope you haven’t made +this long journey to tell me this?” +</p> + +<p> +For a second he was staggered. He had expected his announcement to be +the first of two tremendous sensations; she saw the disappointment in +his face and could have smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“There is another matter,” he said, recovering himself, “which does +not directly affect you. Your brother administered the estate of the +late Lady Chelford, in the sense that he had in his charge stocks and +bonds to the value of fifty-one thousand pounds. That is quite usual +in an old-fashioned lawyer’s business, but to-day of course the stocks +would be in the hands of the bank, and the dividends automatically +credited.” +</p> + +<p> +Her heart nearly stopped beating. He saw the colour fade from her face +and was very sure of himself. +</p> + +<p> +“My brother has—that money?” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“He <i>had</i> it.” He emphasized the word. “I understand that the present +Lord Chelford is changing his lawyers, and in a week’s time those +stocks are to be handed over to another firm.” +</p> + +<p> +She was speechless, knowing that he was telling the truth, +understanding only too well just all that this narrative implied. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty thousand pounds is a lot of money,” Gilder went on suavely; “a +very difficult sum to raise in a week. And in a week that money must +be in your brother’s hands.” +</p> + +<p> +She raised her eyes, and, seeing the pain in them, he was almost sorry +for her. +</p> + +<p> +“You mean—that the money—that Arthur hasn’t those stocks to +transfer?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure of this?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely sure.” +</p> + +<p> +A long silence, when the ticking of the little French clock came so +loudly to their ears that instinctively both glanced at the +mantelpiece together. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you tell me all this?” +</p> + +<p> +He cleared his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“A few days ago I told you, rather uncouthly, I am afraid, that I +loved you,” he said. “You may not credit me with the—the affectionate +reverence I have for you—but I love you! There is nothing in the +world I would not do for you, no price that I would not pay.” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes did not waver; she seemed to be reading his very soul. +</p> + +<p> +“Even to the extent of providing fifty thousand pounds in a week?” she +said in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Even to that extent,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +She rose slowly to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you write down your address?” +</p> + +<p> +So calm was her voice that she might have been discussing an ordinary +matter of business. +</p> + +<p> +“I know where you live, but I have forgotten the name of the building +and the number.” +</p> + +<p> +He wrote it down with an unsteady hand and left the paper where she +had placed it. +</p> + +<p> +“I must know to-morrow,” he said, “yes or no.” +</p> + +<p> +She dropped her head. +</p> + +<p> +“You shall know to-morrow,” she said. “If I tell you I will marry you, +you can make the arrangement about the money—I will not fail you.” +</p> + +<p> +Without another word, he walked to the door, turned, and favoured her +with a deep bow, and went out into the hall. She heard the whirr of +his car grow fainter and fainter. But still she did not move. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch37"> +XXXVII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> door opened. It was Arthur. +</p> + +<p> +“Was that Gilder who came?” he asked, and, when she nodded: “The +brute! Why didn’t you send for me?” +</p> + +<p> +He saw her face, and, quickly: +</p> + +<p> +“Is anything wrong, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said, and marvelled herself at the evenness of her tone. +“He came about some money that was in your care—a part of the estate +of Lady Chelford.” +</p> + +<p> +She saw from the quick change in his face that all that Gilder had +said was true; but then, she had never doubted that. +</p> + +<p> +“Does Dick know?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, he knows. I wonder what you think of me?” he asked huskily. +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Does it matter, Arthur, what I think? What will happen if the money +isn’t found?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got a week yet,” he said. “How did he come to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you get the money?” +</p> + +<p> +It was a useless question. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick said he will do his best.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing can be done with Harry, I suppose?” she asked. “No, that’s +too impossible to think about. What will happen when the truth comes +out?” +</p> + +<p> +He drew a deep breath. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know; imprisonment, I suppose. It’s horribly rough on you, +Leslie. I’ve said that before, but words mean very little, and I am at +the end of words.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice broke for a second, but he caught hold of his weakness in +time, and, seeing the fight he was making, there came a look of +admiration to her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“You poor soul!” she said softly. +</p> + +<p> +Another long pause. +</p> + +<p> +“What did Gilder want—just to tell you that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Partly that.” +</p> + +<p> +“And to make you an offer?” There was just a hint of eagerness in his +tone; the drowning man was gripping hard on a straw. It made her heart +ache to think that, even at that moment, when he knew he deserved +nothing but her loathing, he could contemplate yet another sacrifice +upon her part without protest. +</p> + +<p> +“He made me an offer—yes,” she said. “And I don’t know what I shall +do. I’m going to see Dick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that necessary?” he asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to see Dick,” she said. “I will ’phone him.” +</p> + +<p> +She moved to the instrument and lifted the receiver from the hook, +when he caught her arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I shouldn’t be guided—too much by Dick,” he said breathlessly. +“Gilder’s a brute, but you might be happier with him than with Harry.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook off his arm and gave a number. The servant who replied told +her that Dick was out, that he had gone to London that afternoon, and +would not be back until late at night. She hung up the instrument, +went back to the drawing-room, and took up the paper on which Gilder +had written his address. +</p> + +<p> +“You have six days, Arthur,” she said. “I have less than twenty-four +hours. I don’t know whose case is the worse, but I rather fancy it is +mine.” +</p> + +<p> +He heard her go up to her room, and after a while followed and tried +the door. It was locked. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie!” he called anxiously, but she did not hear him. +</p> + +<p> +With her face buried in the pillow, she was saying good-bye to Dick +Alford, and her heart was breaking. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch38"> +XXXVIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Passing</span> down Wardour Street that afternoon, Dick Alford had seen a +familiar face. A man came out of a shop with a bundle under his arm, +and, recognizing the young man, turned on his tracks and walked +rapidly away. Dick grinned; there was no mistaking Thomas, and he +wondered what was the nature of his purchase. +</p> + +<p> +He glanced at the window of the store and was puzzled; for Thomas did +not seem the kind of man who would indulge in the frivolities which +were exhibited behind the plate glass. +</p> + +<p> +He was not in any very good spirits. He had made two calls, and on +each occasion had suffered a gentle rebuff. He was going now to see +his last hope. The big City bank was closed when he arrived, but a +porter admitted him to the presence of the old man who had been his +father’s best friend. The war had turned plain Mr. Jarvis, a country +banker of the ’eighties, into Lord Clanfield, the head of the greatest +banking corporation in Europe. +</p> + +<p> +He gave Dick a hearty welcome, for the boy had been a favourite of +his. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit ye down, Dick. What has brought you to this square mile of +trouble?” +</p> + +<p> +Plainly and briefly Dick stated his business, and Lord Clanfield +frowned. +</p> + +<p> +“Fifty thousand pounds, my dear boy! Do you want it for yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I want it for a very dear friend of mine.” It required an effort +to describe Arthur in these flattering terms. “He has got into a +scrape.” +</p> + +<p> +His lordship shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“It couldn’t be done, Dick. If it was for you, to get <i>you</i> out of a +scrape—but then, you’re not the kind of lad who’d ever get into +one—I’d give it to you out of my own pocket.” +</p> + +<p> +“You couldn’t lend it to me on my personal security?” +</p> + +<p> +The banker smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Lending it to you, Dick, would be giving it to you! What chance have +you of repaying fifty thousand pounds? A second son! Harry is marrying +this year, and there will be an heir to the estate next year! No, no, +old boy, it would be impossible.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, in his desperation, Dick Alford told the story, suppressing only +the names. The old man listened with a grave face. +</p> + +<p> +“He has got to go through with it, Dick,” he said. “If you get him out +of this trouble he’ll probably get into worse. The poor little +girl—I’m sorry for her. Of course, you’re speaking about Gwyn? No, +no, you needn’t be afraid, I sha’n’t say a word. But I’ve had my +suspicions for a long time. Let him take his medicine, Dick, and do +what you can for the girl. Once that fellow is behind bars and the +whole wretched trouble is at an end, come to me for any money you +want—for the girl. I knew her father and her uncle, and the +great-uncle who left her a lot of money, which I suppose has gone up +in smoke with the rest, and I’m willing to go a long way to help her. +But you mustn’t pledge your credit, Dick, for that worthless man.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick came away from the City, weary and sick at heart, too dispirited +even to interview the fourth man he had intended to see. His only hope +now was his brother, and he knew Harry’s obstinacy too well to expect +help from that quarter, which could not even be asked for except by +betraying as the borrower the man for whom he had conceived an +unreasoning hatred. +</p> + +<p> +Monkey Puttler met him at the station and had a piece of news to +impart. +</p> + +<p> +“That bird Thomas is still in the neighbourhood,” he said. “He’s been +living in Gilder’s cottage.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed?” said Dick. He was really not concerned with Thomas or Gilder +or anything in the wide world except the heartbreak that awaited +Leslie Gwyn. +</p> + +<p> +“Gilder’s been down to-day. Ascot’s all over, isn’t it? Anyway, he was +dressed like a doctor in new clothes—top hat and everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where has he been?” asked Dick, with sudden interest. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I guess he went to call on Mr. Gwyn. I saw his car +coming out of the drive, and he looked very pleased with himself. And +I’ve found the rifle.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where did you find it?” asked Dick quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Up against the river. Someone must have thrown it in, but didn’t +throw hard enough. There were three or four cartridges still in the +magazine—a sporting Lee-Enfield. They’ve tried the knife and they’ve +tried the gun; I wonder what new one they’ll put out on us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you seen Harry?” +</p> + +<p> +“Saw him this afternoon,” said the cheerful Puttler. “He worked that +chesil gag on me, but I didn’t give him my views.” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of his anxiety, Dick smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any views on chesils?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” said the other confidently. “He thinks chesil is an +instrument. He doesn’t seem to realize that in Elizabethan times +‘chesil’ meant ‘gravel’ or ‘shingle.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Dick stopped and stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that so?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Ever heard of a place called Chelsea?” said the informative Mr. +Puttler. “Do you know what ‘Chelsea’ means? It means ‘Chesil Ey’ or +Shingle Island. Why, the word isn’t even obsolete; you’ll find it in +any dictionary. The new ‘chesil’ that is spoken of in the Diary is a +load of shingle he got from Brighthelmstone. That’s Brighton. Now, why +did the old bird want shingle? Obviously to put in some kind of +concrete or mortar.” +</p> + +<p> +“For heaven’s sake don’t start on the treasure, or I shall go mad!” +groaned Dick. “At any rate, you don’t believe in its existence, thank +goodness!” +</p> + +<p> +“I do,” said the surprising man emphatically. “I’m as sure that those +thousand bars of gold are in existence as I’m certain you and I are +walking up this road. Your brother’s got a book down that shows all +Queen Elizabeth’s private accounts; there’s the million she stole from +the Spanish ships that put into an English port when they were on +their way to Holland; there’s the money she got from Drake and the +other seagoing burglars; but there’s not a hint of the Chelford gold.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then where is it?” asked Dick in exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +“Ask me before I go,” replied the other cryptically. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch39"> +XXXIX +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A dozen</span> letters were written and burnt in the fireplace of her +bedroom before Leslie composed the one that was eventually placed in +an envelope and addressed to “Fabrian Gilder, Esq., 35, Regency +Mansions, London.” She had written: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dear Mr. Gilder</span>: +</p> + +<p> +I agree to your terms. The money or equivalent shares must be +deposited in the Horsham branch of the Southern & Midland Bank, in the +name of Leslie Gilder, so that I may have control of the account from +the moment I am married. I do not expect you to trust the word of one +of my family, and I presume that you will wish the marriage to take +place in the next few days. Will you please make arrangements for the +ceremony, and tell me when and where I am to meet you? I expect it to +be at a registrar’s office by special license. I can only say that, +although this marriage is not of my seeking, you may trust me to be a +loyal wife. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +Very sincerely,<br> +<span class="sc">Leslie Gwyn</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The last post was collected by a motor-cyclist postman at ten o’clock +from a little wall box not a hundred yards from the house. There was +an earlier collection, but somehow she could not bring herself to post +the letter until the very last moment. Ten o’clock was an unusually +late hour for a country collection, but it was the last box on the +postman’s route and was an especially convenient arrangement, not only +for the inhabitants of Fossaway Manor, but for the tenant farmers who +wished to notify their daily consignments. +</p> + +<p> +She saw Arthur at dinner after the letter was written, but beyond the +exchange of a few commonplaces they did not speak. He went back to his +study, carrying his coffee with him, and she was left alone to the +contemplation of the dark future. She wished she had seen Dick before +she wrote, but it was too late now. Gilder had asked her to give him +his answer that night, and she had promised. +</p> + +<p> +What would Dick say? She screwed up her eyes tightly as though to hide +the vision of him, and her lips trembled. +</p> + +<p> +“No weakness, Danton!” It was a favourite quotation of her childhood, +and had been the slogan at all moments when tears were near at hand. +</p> + +<p> +She took the letter from her bag and looked at it. Stamped, addressed, +she had but to drop this into the little letter box, and thereafter +the angle of life was twisted to a new prospect: the bleakest, +dreariest prospect that any woman had faced. +</p> + +<p> +And it had to be done. The hands of the clock moved slowly and +inexorably round. Nine o’clock—a quarter after—twenty minutes before +ten; she set her teeth and got up from the little table where she had +been trying in vain to concentrate her mind upon a game of patience, +went upstairs and put on her hat and coat, and, with the letter +tightly gripped in her hand, stole down across the hall, opened the +door, and went out. +</p> + +<p> +It was very dark; she could scarcely see her way down the drive. Clear +of the overhanging trees, her eyes, grown accustomed to the darkness, +made out the road. She thought that she saw somebody on the road ahead +and heard footsteps, but she was nervous, she told herself. +Nevertheless, she stopped and listened. She heard nothing and went on. +</p> + +<p> +A few minutes’ walk brought her to the pillar box, and here she +waited. A big spot of rain fell upon her hand; she heard the sough of +the wind through the trees; and then, far away, she saw a tiny star of +light and heard the faint clank of the postman’s cycle. She thrust the +letter into the box and turned to retrace her steps. +</p> + +<p> +Then it occurred to her that the postman would pass her, and she did +not wish to see him. Which way should she go? Her heart and +inclinations beckoned to Fossaway Manor. Dick—she must see Dick. She +fought against the madness; the postman’s light grew brighter. Then +she ran down toward the cut road, through the gate and up the slope to +the Abbey. There she sat down to recover her breath, and presently she +saw the reflection of a lamp, heard the thunder of the postman’s +motor-cycle as it passed. +</p> + +<p> +There went fate, on that dark road, noisily, bumpily. The red light +faded from sight, and she got up, walked leisurely past the Abbey +ruins, without one thought of ghosts or haunting spirits, and took the +lower and shorter path to the Manor. +</p> + +<p> +She was halfway across the long meadow when she stopped. Fear was +clutching at her heart; she could feel the flesh creep on her neck, +and, turning, looked back. Somebody was following her. Consciously she +had heard no sound, but to her heart flashed a warning signal that set +it racing. She could see nobody. It must be her imagination, she told +herself; yet here, reason and instinct were at variance, and instinct +won. She <i>knew</i> there was somebody immediately behind her, less than +twenty yards away. +</p> + +<p> +She could intercept the long drive to Fossaway Manor before she could +reach the house. She decided to make the longer journey, and, turning +abruptly, walked with quick strides across the velvety grass-land in +the direction of the elms which flanked the drive. Once she looked +back, and thought she saw a moving shape. She quickened her steps, +broke into a gentle run. She must not allow blind panic to overcome +her, she told herself. +</p> + +<p> +Again she looked back but saw nothing, and, ashamed of her fear, she +slowed to a walk and reached the elms and the drive with heartfelt +thankfulness. Exactly how she should break in upon Dick she did not +know. She hoped he would be in his study, and that she could call him +out from the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +Nearer and nearer she came to the house, and then, of a sudden, she +whipped round. Somebody was behind her: she was sure of it now. She +heard the sound of feet upon the gravelled road. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is there?” she called. +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer, but the footsteps stopped. They might be walking +on the grassy verge, she thought, and, turning, ran up the drive. +Whoever followed was running, too. She heard a sibilant whisper and +her blood turned cold. Then, as she emerged from the trees, she saw a +figure against the gray sheen of the round pound, saw the shape of +it—the long habit and the heavy cowl. With a scream she flew. +</p> + +<p> +The drive continuing past the window would bring her to Dick’s study. +She saw with a gasp of relief that the door was open and a light +shining inside. Over her shoulder she saw the queer shape again, and +screamed. In an instant Dick was out of the study and had caught her +in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +He listened to her breathless story, then, almost carrying her to his +room, he put her in a chair and ran out into the night. In a few +minutes he came back. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw nothing,” he said. “It was the Black Abbot, you say?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know; something in a cowl and habit: I’m sure of that.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a bad introduction to the story she had to tell; indeed, in her +terror, she almost forgot the object of her visit. +</p> + +<p> +“Did Arthur come with you?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, I know,” were the first words she said when she had recovered +her breath. +</p> + +<p> +“You know what?” +</p> + +<p> +“About Lady Chelford’s money.” +</p> + +<p> +She saw his face change. +</p> + +<p> +“Did he tell you?” he asked, the red coming into his face. +</p> + +<p> +“Not Arthur, no. It was Gilder.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Gilder told you? I knew he had been and I knew he had called. Was +that why he came?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“For nothing else?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; he came to offer me the money.” +</p> + +<p> +She saw his eyes narrow. +</p> + +<p> +“He did? At a price, of course?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“And you—what did you say?” +</p> + +<p> +She found a difficulty in breathing; speech for the moment was +impossible without making a fool of herself. +</p> + +<p> +“You agreed?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded again. +</p> + +<p> +“I have just posted the letter to him,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +She saw him bite his lip and a red spot of blood showed. If he had +stormed at her, cursed her, she could have borne it; but he did no +more than look at her. There was nothing in his gaze that was +uncharitable. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Dick, Dick!” She was sobbing on his breast and his arms were +about her, comforting her. +</p> + +<p> +“You can’t do it, my dear. Anything is better than that.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head, incapable of speech. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you anything is better than that.” His voice was hard, +uncompromising. “Better Arthur go down for five years than that you +should live in hell all your life! I know that man—I know his +kind—it isn’t his years, it’s his mind and his evil heart. If he were +twenty I would say, ‘No, you can’t do it, Leslie.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +She pushed herself gently away from him and dried her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I must, Dick; I have given my word. I cannot trick him. The last +thing I said to him was ‘If I tell you I will marry you, you can make +the arrangements about the money—I will not fail you.’ I cannot fail +him; I cannot fail myself.” +</p> + +<p> +His face was drawn and haggard. +</p> + +<p> +“This can’t be!” he said. “Something will happen. I don’t know +what——” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that?” she gasped, terrified. +</p> + +<p> +From somewhere in the grounds came a shrill shriek that was hardly +human. Again it came: a sobbing, blubbering shriek that turned her +heart to ice. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay here,” said Dick, as he made for the open window, but she flung +herself upon him. +</p> + +<p> +“You sha’n’t go! You mustn’t go!” she cried wildly. “Dick, something +dreadful is happening. Oh, God! listen, Dick!” +</p> + +<p> +This time the shriek was shriller, and died away into a thin wail of +sound. +</p> + +<p> +He pushed her aside and ran out on to the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +“From which way did it come, do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Over there.” She pointed ahead to the drive. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me come with you—do, please do!” she begged. “I dare not be left +alone.” +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” he said roughly, and took her arm with a grip that made her +wince. +</p> + +<p> +Together they ran toward Elm Drive, and then he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Go back and get my hand lamp. It’s on my writing table,” he said. “I +will wait here for you.” +</p> + +<p> +She fled back to the room, took up the lamp with fingers that trembled +so violently that she could scarcely hold it, and rejoined him. +</p> + +<p> +“It was over there. I heard something a second ago. If I hadn’t +promised to wait…” +</p> + +<p> +He turned on the light, swinging its rays over the ground before him, +and going ahead of her. Presently she saw him stop and a circle of +light focus on something black that lay huddled on the grass. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay where you are,” he commanded, “and turn your back.” +</p> + +<p> +A voice hailed him in the distance: it was Puttler, and, guided by the +lamp, he came on the scene. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” said Dick in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +At his feet was the huddled figure of a man. He was lying on his face, +and was attired from head to foot in a long black habit around which a +rope was girdled. +</p> + +<p> +“The Black Abbot?” said Puttler incredulously. “Is he dead?” +</p> + +<p> +“Look,” said Dick, and pointed to the wet shoulder and the horror of +the throat. +</p> + +<p> +Puttler knelt down, and, putting his arms under the figure, turned it +on its back. +</p> + +<p> +The face was covered by a black cowl, and this he gently raised. +</p> + +<p> +“Merciful God!” said Dick, in a hushed voice. +</p> + +<p> +He was looking into the gray face of Thomas, the footman. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch40"> +XL +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Thomas</span>—the Black Abbot!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick looked at the pitiable thing, bewildered; and then he remembered +the girl and, with a low word of instruction to Puttler, went back to +her. +</p> + +<p> +“Is he—dead?” she asked fearfully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’m afraid he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who—who is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“One of the servants,” he said evasively. +</p> + +<p> +“Not Thomas?” +</p> + +<p> +Why she should think it was Thomas she could not for the life of her +tell. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—Thomas.” +</p> + +<p> +She made no inquiries, and they walked back without a word to his +room. He rang the bell, and, to the footman who answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Ask Mr. Glover to come to me,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The old butler came apprehensively. All the servants had heard the +scream in the park. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is his lordship?” +</p> + +<p> +“He went up to bed about five minutes ago, Mr. Alford.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had he heard—anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir. He’s so particular about our talking of the Black Abbot——” +</p> + +<p> +“How do you know it was the Black Abbot?” asked Dick sharply, and the +butler explained that somebody had seen the figure in the grounds. +</p> + +<p> +“He was trying to open a window. One of the maids looking out of her +window saw him walking on the paved path below, and raised an alarm. +Has he hurt anybody, Mr. Richard?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, he has hurt nobody,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +He drew the butler out into the hall and closed the door behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“A man has been found in the grounds in the dress of a black +abbot—and he is dead—murdered!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good Lord, sir!” said the startled servant. “Is it anybody we know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas,” said Dick laconically, and the old man staggered back +against the panelled wall. +</p> + +<p> +“Not our Thomas? Thomas Luck, the man who was dismissed?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Get the servants to bed. Tell them that the scream came from somebody +who was skylarking and that we caught him—anything you like.” Then, +catching a glimpse of the man’s ashen face: “First of all you’d better +go down into the dining-room and help yourself to a good stiff glass +of brandy and water; you look a corpse, man!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas!” muttered the old man. “It’s terrible! Do you think——” +</p> + +<p> +Dick cut short his question. +</p> + +<p> +“Do as I tell you; get the servants to bed. The police will be up here +soon enough, but I’ll arrange that your staff are not questioned till +the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +He went back to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“As for you, young lady,” he said, with a grim smile, “I seem to spend +my life taking you back to your home.” +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t I stay?” she asked timidly. +</p> + +<p> +Dick shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall have to call in the police, and I want to keep your name out +of the business. Arthur is at home?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Arthur is at home,” she said listlessly. +</p> + +<p> +At that moment the telephone bell rang and he took up the instrument. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that Lord Chelford’s house?” said an unfamiliar voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick shortly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m speaking from the sub post office. That isn’t Lord Chelford +speaking?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, it’s Mr. Alford,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, listen, Mr. Alford. Have you sent anything very important from +the local post-box?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” asked Dick quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Because our roundsman reported that the box had been tampered with. +He couldn’t get in his key, so the letters that had been posted +between six and ten have not yet been collected.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick uttered an exclamation. +</p> + +<p> +“Right! When it’s cleared, will you ask the postman to bring the +letters up to the hall? There are one or two that I want to withdraw.” +</p> + +<p> +The man at the other end of the wire hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, in the special circumstances, yes,” he said, and Dick hung up +the receiver and turned slowly to the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“The letter box hasn’t been cleared.” +</p> + +<p> +Slowly the significance of the words dawned upon her. +</p> + +<p> +“What shall I do?” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me authority to withdraw your letter to Gilder. There are six +more days.” +</p> + +<p> +She held her breath. For a second a vision of her brother in convict’s +garb came to her eyes, and then she looked at the man before her. +Something of his vitality, his confidence, passed to her soul. +</p> + +<p> +“I will do as you tell me,” she said, in a voice little above a +whisper. “But, Dick, what will happen?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to do my duty,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +And all that sleepless night, as she tossed from side to side in her +bed, she pondered those words but could find no solution to their +mystery. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch41"> +XLI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Puttler</span>, unshaven and weary-eyed, dragged himself to the study and +poured out a large cup of tea that the butler had brought in, and +drank it at a gulp. +</p> + +<p> +“Scotland Yard has given me charge of this case, for which you may +thank your stars!” he said. “Considering we’ve had to do all our work +between eleven and four, I think I’ve set up a record in +investigation. Thomas’s monkish attire was hired, as you thought, from +a theatrical costumier’s in Wardour Street——” +</p> + +<p> +“I saw him coming out with a bundle under his arm and wondered what +use he could find for fancy dress,” interrupted Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“That is fact No. 1,” counted Puttler. “Fact No. 2 is that he was +making ready for a getaway. He even tried to open your local letter +box, probably earlier in the evening. Do you send money by post?” +</p> + +<p> +“My brother does, frequently. It’s a habit I’ve tried to cure, without +success.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is fact No. 2,” said Puttler. “He couldn’t open the box, but we +found the key on him. He had moved everything of value from Gilder’s +house. I found his portmanteau packed and cached in the field where +you say Gilder parks his car. And obviously he was coming to relieve +your brother of any loose cash he might find in the library. I found +his tools scattered on the flower bed under one of the library +windows.” +</p> + +<p> +“How was he killed?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Puttler scratched his head. +</p> + +<p> +“By a regiment of soldiers, to judge from the appearance of him!” +</p> + +<p> +They talked till the sleepy-eyed Mr. Glover staggered in and asked +permission to go to bed, and then they walked out into the cold +morning and joined the party of police that were searching the +grounds. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose the best thing we can do is to go to bed also,” said Dick, +and at that instant Puttler stooped and picked something from the long +grass. +</p> + +<p> +It was a long dagger, its steel hilt black with age, the blade coated +with something that was still wet. They looked at one another. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know this?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick nodded mutely. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Puttler. +</p> + +<p> +“It is the dagger that once belonged to the Black Abbot’s slayer,” +said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The man’s jaw dropped. +</p> + +<p> +“Where does it come from?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“The last time I saw it,” he said slowly, “it was hanging in the hall +of Arthur Gwyn’s house.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch42"> +XLII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Curiouser</span> and curiouser,” said Puttler, who had literary leanings. +</p> + +<p> +Dick heard his name shouted in an agitated voice, and, looking round, +saw the butler running toward him, no longer sleepy-eyed, but very +alert and white. +</p> + +<p> +“What is the matter, Clover?” +</p> + +<p> +“The maid… foolish girl only just told me… frightened!” gasped the old +man, and pointed to the open study windows. +</p> + +<p> +Dick walked quickly back, followed by Puttler. Drooping in his study +chair was a plain-looking girl, wearing over her coarse nightdress a +man’s overcoat; her lank hair falling over her shoulders, she +presented a sight which at any other time would have moved Dick Alford +to laughter. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Alice, tell Mr. Alford what you told me,” said the old butler, +beside himself with anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +It was some time before she could speak coherently, and then she told +her amazing story. She had gone to bed in the servants’ quarters soon +after eleven, with a sick headache. She had heard nothing of the +scream, but at some time—which she placed with accuracy, having an +alarm clock with a phosphorescent dial by her bedside, at 1.45—she +heard “a terrible commotion” downstairs. Her room was immediately +above Lord Chelford’s. She heard shouts and screams, the smashing of +glass and the sounds of a struggle.… +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry, hurry, woman!” said Dick, frantic with anxiety. “Downstairs, +in his lordship’s room—are you sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir,” whimpered the girl. “I simply dared not get up for fear I +was murdered. I simply laid there and fainted and come to again.…” +</p> + +<p> +Before she had finished, Dick was across the hall and running up the +stairs two at a time. He tried the door of Harry’s room but it was +bolted. He called him by name, and hammered on the panels, but there +was no answer. +</p> + +<p> +“We’d better break in the door,” said Puttler. “Have you got an axe?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Glover went downstairs in search of the tool and returned with an +axe and a case-opener. In a second the panel of the door was smashed +and Dick peered in. +</p> + +<p> +All the blinds save one were drawn, and the exception afforded +sufficient light to enable him to examine the room. He gave one glance +and his heart sank. The room was in hopeless confusion; the bedclothes +were thrown on the floor, two mirrors, one a cheval glass, had been +smashed; the uncurtained window was open. Dick put his hand through +the hole in the panel and unbolted the door, and the two men ran in. +</p> + +<p> +There were signs as of a terrible struggle. The wreckage of two chairs +lay scattered about the floor. The table which had held the medicines +was overturned and the floor was littered with broken glass and wet +with the spilt medicines. +</p> + +<p> +Puttler walked over to the bed. The mattress had been half dragged to +the floor but the pillows were still in their place, and one of these +and a part of the under sheet were smothered with blood. +</p> + +<p> +Dick examined the open window. Three or four of the leaded panes were +broken, and the steel rod that kept the windows open was bent as +though a heavy weight had rested upon it. The ground was about fifteen +feet below, and immediately under the window a large rhododendron bush +had been broken as though by some heavy weight thrown upon it. Without +hesitation, Dick threw his legs across the window sill, poised himself +a moment, and dropped to the ground. There was blood on the leaves of +the bush; he could find no footprints. Searching the ground, he came +upon a smudge of blood against one of the buttresses of the wall. +</p> + +<p> +By this time Puttler, who had chosen a more sedate method of descent, +had joined him, and the two men went on, keeping to the paved path, +and searched the ground for a further trail. +</p> + +<p> +“This happened when we were in the grounds with the local police,” +said Puttler. +</p> + +<p> +He had been full of self-reproaches all night, and now Dick silenced +him. +</p> + +<p> +“It can’t be helped,” he said. “The fault is as much mine as yours. I +ought to have expected this, after the killing of Thomas. Knowing what +I know, I should have gone up to his room and stayed there with him, +or at least outside. Poor old Harry! Poor old boy!” +</p> + +<p> +His voice broke, and for a second there were tears in his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“What is this?” +</p> + +<p> +The paving ended abruptly and was continued with a rolled gravel path, +and there were marks here of something heavy being dragged along. +These ceased as suddenly as the paving. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait,” said Dick, as the solution dawned upon him. +</p> + +<p> +He ran back along the wall of the wing, turned the corner, and stopped +before the first of the library windows. It was open, and, drawing +himself up, he dropped into the darkened room and pulled back the +curtains. So far he had not examined the library; his practised eye, +familiar with almost every book on the shelves, told him that somebody +had been here. One section of the shelves had been almost cleared. A +drawer in Harry’s desk had been broken open, and on the floor he found +an empty cash box. +</p> + +<p> +He made a brief and hurried survey, and, returning to the open by the +window, he rejoined the detective and told him of his discovery. +</p> + +<p> +Beyond the gravelled path and the dragging marks, all trace of Harry +was lost. Ahead of them, at a distance of four or five hundred yards, +was the river. To the left, and at this point out of sight, the Abbey +ruins. +</p> + +<p> +An hour’s search brought them no nearer to discovery, and Dick went +back to his room to find the first of the dishevelled reporters +stepping from his hired car. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch43"> +XLIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Mr. Gilder</span> rose at six o’clock that morning. He had spent a restless +night and welcomed the dawn. The first post did not arrive until eight +o’clock, and he met the postman at the door. There were half a dozen +letters for him, and he carried them into his room and examined them +eagerly. Only one bore a familiar postmark and that was in a hand +which he recognized. He tore it open and found a few scrawled lines. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +If I don’t see you again, thank you for your kindness, and don’t think +too badly of your old friend. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +So Thomas had gone! With a curse he threw the letter into the +fireplace and went back, accosting the postman as he descended from +the upper floors of the apartments. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, there’s no other letter.” The man went through his bundle +carefully. “There is another post at half-past nine. The country post +doesn’t usually get into town in time for the first delivery.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder slammed the door and went back to sulk in his room. By this +time his servants were about. At nine o’clock they called him to +breakfast, but a glance at the contents of the dishes did not tempt +him. +</p> + +<p> +His newspapers were placed folded at his hand. He opened the first, +and on the centre page a paragraph arrested his eye. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="center"> +STRANGE HAPPENING AT HAUNTED MANOR HOUSE +</p> + +<p class="center"> +By telephone, Chelfordbury, 2 A. M. +</p> + +<p> +There has been a tragic sequel to the appearance of the Black Abbot in +the grounds of Fossaway Manor. At eleven o’clock last night, Mr. +Richard Alford, hearing screams, ran out from the house and discovered +the dead body of a man in the habit of a monk. He had been terribly +injured, there being no less than nine wounds. The man has been +identified as Thomas Luck, a former footman in the employ of the Earl +of Chelford. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Gilder uttered an exclamation and put down the paper. Thomas! His +first thought was for himself. Suppose it were known that this man had +been staying at his cottage, he would be dragged into the affair; +inquiries would be made, and he would figure at a coroner’s inquest, +if not in a murder trial. Cold-bloodedly he cursed the dead man for +his folly. +</p> + +<p> +Gilder had no doubt in his mind what had occurred. Thomas had gone +back to Fossaway Manor to get the remainder of the cash out of the box +in Chelford’s room. And then—was Thomas the Black Abbot, after all? +It was quite possible that he had used this disguise on other +occasions, and he was in a position very favourable to such a +masquerade. +</p> + +<p> +It was nine o’clock; the next editions would be out in an hour. He +could, if he wished, have called up a tradesman he knew in +Chelfordbury, but that would associate his name with the crime, and +these villagers gossiped. +</p> + +<p> +For the time being, all thought of the expected letter went out of his +mind. But as the tragedy became familiar to him, his thoughts came +back to Leslie Gwyn. The country post would bring the letter, and he +would act generously, munificently. There should be no higgling, no +bargaining, no balancing of accounts to the last penny. Her word would +be sufficient. Overnight he had written his letter, prepared the grand +gesture which should break down the last barrier of mental resistance; +and, with his knowledge of women, he did not doubt what form the +reaction would take. +</p> + +<p> +He went into the little library where he did his work, opened a +combination wall safe and took out the letter. He had read it again +and again after it had been written, and with every reading he had the +warm glow of complacency which men derive from the contemplation of +their own generosity. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">My dear Leslie</span>: +</p> + +<p> +Thank you for your letter. I did not doubt that you would keep your +word. My answer you will find enclosed herewith—a blank check. I make +no stipulations, I extract no conditions. Draw the check for as much +money as your brother requires to clear himself from his dreadful +situation. I have given instructions to the bank that the check is to +be honoured without question. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Fabrian</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +It was characteristic of the man, who kept three banking accounts, +that the check was drawn on a branch where his balance was exactly the +amount required to liquidate Arthur Gwyn’s liability. It would have +been a simple matter to fill in the form for the amount required, but +there was a certain nobility, a magnificence, in the blank check. It +was a carte-blanche upon his fortune. He replaced the letter in the +envelope, put it back in the safe and pushed the door close, as the +telephone bell rang. +</p> + +<p> +The caller was the man who had taken his place at the office. Had he +heard anything about Gwyn? +</p> + +<p> +“We haven’t seen anything of him since you left, and the letters we +have sent down for him to sign haven’t been returned.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder comforted the anxious man with the assurance that Arthur would +put in an appearance some day that week. At the back of his mind there +was still a great uneasiness about the tragedy at Chelfordbury. He +sent his maid out to get a copy of the sporting editions, but they had +not arrived at Regent’s Park, and he decided to take a taxi to +Piccadilly Circus, and, if necessary, to Fleet Street, to get an early +copy. Such a journey would serve the purpose of filling in the time +until the country post arrived. +</p> + +<p> +It was at Oxford Circus that he saw the first newspaper contents bill. +The first said “Terrible Tragedy in Sussex Village”; the second made +him sit bolt upright in the car: “Well-known Earl Kidnapped and +Murdered.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch44"> +XLIV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Gilder</span> stopped the taxi and, springing out, grabbed at a paper. A +flaring headline met his eye. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="center"> +LORD CHELFORD CARRIED OFF BY UNKNOWN MURDERER.<br> +FEARED DOUBLE TRAGEDY IN A<br> +SUSSEX VILLAGE +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +There were other sub-headings, but his eye ran down to the story. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +At 11 o’clock last night screams were heard in the grounds of Fossaway +Manor, the fine old Tudor mansion which has been the country seat of +the Earls of Chelford for hundreds of years. The Hon. Richard Alford, +the only brother of Lord Chelford, ran out, accompanied by +Detective-Sergeant Puttler, who was staying at the Manor as Mr. +Alford’s guest. They were horrified to discover, lying on the grass, +the dead body of a man dressed in the habit of the famous Black Abbot. +The local police were immediately called in, and hardly had their +investigations begun when, unknown to them, a second tragedy occurred. +A maid in the employ of the Earl of Chelford, Alice Barter, who sleeps +in a room over that occupied by Lord Chelford, states that at +one-forty-five o’clock in the morning she heard sounds of a terrific +struggle in his lordship’s room. In terror, she did not report the +occurrence till four o’clock in the morning. Lord Chelford’s door was +broken open and a terrible scene met the eyes of the police officers. +The room was in confusion: mirrors and furniture were smashed; and it +was evident from the indications that a terrible struggle had taken +place, and, either stunned or killed, Lord Chelford was pulled to the +window and thrown out. A search of the grounds left no doubt that his +body was dragged for some distance along the ground. At the moment of +telephoning, says our correspondent, no trace of the body has been +found, but from certain indications there can be little doubt that the +unfortunate peer has been a victim of foul play. Certain of his +property is missing, whilst a cash box which he kept in the drawer of +a desk in his library has been found empty. Detective-Sergeant Puttler +of Scotland Yard is in charge of the case. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The newsboy was still waiting for payment. Mr. Gilder put his hand in +his pocket mechanically and, giving him a shilling, reëntered the +cab. +</p> + +<p> +“Drive me round the Outer Circle,” he said. He wanted time to think. +</p> + +<p> +In a dim, uneasy way he realized how deeply he was involved in this +tragedy. Fabrian Gilder had a lawyer’s mind. He saw the connection +between Thomas, himself, and Chelford. Thomas, a known thief, +harboured in his cottage, goes out, with or without associates, and is +killed. Chelford, lately engaged to the girl whom Gilder himself was +pursuing, disappears in circumstances which leave no doubt as to his +death. +</p> + +<p> +Round and round the Regent’s Park Circle the cab moved slowly, and all +the time he was piecing together a version which would sound +plausible. He had known Thomas; was aware that the man was dismissed, +but did not know his criminal connections. The man had asked for +shelter for a few days, and in charity Gilder had given it to him. He +himself was in London when the crime was committed; had +unchallengeable alibis if necessary. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps he was exaggerating the seriousness of the situation, he +thought. Putting his head out of the window, he directed the driver to +take him to Regency Mansions. He had forgotten his key; had to ring +the bell, and the maid who opened the door handed him the post, which +had arrived a few minutes before. He examined the three letters +carefully: none was from Leslie. But at the moment he was too occupied +with the happenings at Chelfordbury to be disappointed. +</p> + +<p> +And then came a thunderbolt. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Arthur Gwyn is waiting for you in the library,” said the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Gwyn!” he said in astonishment. “When did he come?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ten minutes ago, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh!” said Gilder blankly. +</p> + +<p> +Had she sent her brother instead of a letter? Had she told him… well, +it was a situation that had to be faced. +</p> + +<p> +He walked carelessly into the little library and found Arthur Gwyn +sitting in one of the easiest chairs, a book in his hand, a +half-smoked cigar between his teeth. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Gilder.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice was cheerful and almost amiable, and for a moment Mr. +Gilder’s heart leapt. This was a friendly ambassador sent by the girl +to make the necessary arrangements. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we’d better forget all that’s passed,” said Arthur. “We both +lost our temper, and there’s no sense in keeping the old trouble +alive. You don’t mind my smoking?” +</p> + +<p> +He replaced the book he had taken from one of the shelves, dusted his +knees carefully, and then laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re thinking of marrying Leslie, I understand?” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder nodded, watching his visitor closely. +</p> + +<p> +“Expecting a letter from her? Well, I’m afraid you won’t get it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why not?” asked the other, with a sudden tightening at his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Because friend Thomas, who spent the evening in wholesale +robbery—incidentally, he stole a very ancient dagger from my hall, a +silver teapot, and a few other etceteras—added to his infamy by +attempting to rob a letter box. He didn’t succeed in opening the box, +but he put the lock out of order.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder breathed again. +</p> + +<p> +“So there was no collection, eh?” he said huskily. “Well, that is +rather a relief.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a quizzical smile in Arthur Gwyn’s eyes; the discolouration +on the left cheek had faded to a pale green. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand you’re going to help me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am going to get you out of your trouble, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“It occurred to me”—Arthur leaned sideways and very carefully dusted +the ash of his cigar into a silver tray on the library table—“it +occurred to me that you might care to give me proof and evidence of +your good feeling.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t understand you,” said Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +Arthur hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I wondered whether you would write me a letter, to the effect that +you are lending me this very large sum. You see, Gilder, although you +plan to marry my sister, I am vain enough to wish that it should not +be regarded as a gift or the price—the price of her marriage—but as +a loan to me.” He laughed. “Don’t look at me like that, my dear +fellow. I am not asking you for money, I am seeking a salve to my +conscience. I don’t want people to say ‘Leslie Gwyn was sold for fifty +thousand pounds.’ I want to produce evidence that you did no more than +lend me the money.” +</p> + +<p> +A slow smile dawned on Gilder’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no objection to that,” he said. “I’ll give it to you now, if +you like. Do you mind if I address you as ‘Dear—Arthur’?” +</p> + +<p> +“Charmed,” murmured Arthur. +</p> + +<p> +“One has to keep up the pretence of friendliness,” said Gilder as he +wrote rapidly; “and really, I’ve no strong feeling against you, Gwyn. +You’ve been a useful man to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Damned useful,” said Arthur, without heat. +</p> + +<p> +The man blotted the letter, brought it across, and Arthur Gwyn read it +carefully. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” he said, folded and put it into his pocket. “You may +think I’m rather weak—which of course I am—and vain. I’m afraid +there’s no doubt about that! You will hear from Leslie when the mail +box is cleared—that is, if the letters are intact. There is some +suspicion that our friend Thomas, baffled in his attempt to open the +box, and inspired with that instinct for destruction which is one of +the characteristics of the unbalanced criminal, threw in a couple of +lighted matches. I had the curiosity to smell at the letter slot, and +I think it is very likely that the police theory is correct.” +</p> + +<p> +He rose, took up his silk hat, and stifled a yawn. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve had rather an exciting night in my part of the world. You’ve +probably read all about it in the newspapers?” +</p> + +<p> +“Has Chelford been found?” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Not at the time I left,” he said. “Unfortunately Leslie was a +witness, if not to the murder, to the finding of the first body. The +poor little girl was knocked all to pieces. Don’t bother her for a day +or two—do you mind?” +</p> + +<p> +He held out his hand and Gilder took the soft, cool palm in his. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we shall get on together, Gwyn.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure we shall,” said Arthur. “Do you mind showing me the way out? +Your flat is rather like a box of tricks, and I’m never sure which is +a door and which is a cupboard.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur dispensed with his car. A taxicab took him into the City, and +another cab to a small flat in Gray’s Inn where he slept when he was +in town. He changed into a plain blue suit, carefully and reluctantly +shaved off his moustache, and took from his pocket a pair of newly +purchased horn-rimmed pince-nez. Surveying himself in the glass with a +certain amount of satisfaction, he sat down and wrote a letter to his +sister, then, taking a final survey of the little flat where he had +spent many a happy bachelor evening, he locked the door, went out and +posted the letter in the Holborn post office. +</p> + +<p> +Another taxicab took him to Croyden aërodrome, where he arrived in +the early afternoon. He showed the officer his brand-new passport. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s in order, Mr. Steele,” said the official. “Your taxi is +waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +His “taxi” was a sturdy two-seater aëroplane. Five minutes after his +arrival he was zooming up to the blue, and was soon a speck in the +hazy sky, heading for France, possibly for Genoa, as likely as not, by +an Italian liner, for Rio de Janeiro. Everything depended on how Mr. +Fabrian Gilder swallowed the pill which Arthur had administered. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch45"> +XLV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Burnt</span>,” said Dick, with considerable satisfaction. “The poor brute +did some good in his life—Heaven forgive me for speaking ill of him. +Where is your Arthur?” +</p> + +<p> +“My Arthur went to town very early,” said Leslie. “There is no news of +Harry?” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“None,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He looked dreadfully tired and broken, she thought. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so sorry!” +</p> + +<p> +He took her hand and patted it. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would go away somewhere, Leslie,” he said. “Couldn’t you +take a long voyage?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you out of the way. I don’t exactly know why, but I’m rather +worried about you. Get Arthur——” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped. It was quite possible that Arthur would not be a free +agent at the end of the week; and, reading his thoughts, she smiled +sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“What am I to do about Mr. Gilder?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let him write. He is hardly likely to leave you in peace. But you +understand, of course, that until Harry is found there is no danger to +your brother. Until he appears, no action can be taken.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him pityingly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think he is alive?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he replied shortly. “Puttler doesn’t think so, but I do. We are +dragging the Ravensrill to-day, but it is not deep enough to hide—a +body.” +</p> + +<p> +He covered his face with his hands. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I were a million miles away, perched on some solitary star,” +he said wearily. +</p> + +<p> +She slipped her hand through the crook of his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“You’d be very hot,” she said, with a pathetic attempt at gaiety, +“unless I have forgotten all my astronomy.” +</p> + +<p> +He put his arm about her shoulder and hugged her. It was an +affectionate brotherly hug, and no more. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got to go away, my dear. What about the prosaic Bournemouth? +Or the vulgar but wholesome Margate?” +</p> + +<p> +Again she shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“Or London, which I am told is a health resort?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re very anxious for me to go really?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” he said, with an emphasis that betrayed his concern. +</p> + +<p> +She drew back from him and faced him. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, will you tell me something without any evasion?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think that I am in any personal danger?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure of it,” he said. “It would be cruel not to tell you the +truth. The shot that was fired the other day was intended for you. It +was fired by a man who is as brilliant a shot as any in England, and +the height of the bullet mark told us that it was aimed directly at +your heart.” +</p> + +<p> +She listened, stupefied, unbelieving. +</p> + +<p> +“But why?” she asked, bewildered. “I have no enemies, Dick; I have +wronged nobody. Who could do such a wicked thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“If I told you, you would perhaps be no wiser,” he said. “There is a +man in this world who hates you and hates me, and has good reason from +his point of view. Now that I’ve told you the truth, will you go?” +</p> + +<p> +She thought awhile. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll wait until Arthur comes back,” she said, “and ask him to take me +to London.” +</p> + +<p> +And with that he was satisfied. +</p> + +<p> +He was leaving the house when Puttler’s cycle swung into the drive. +</p> + +<p> +“Anything wrong?” asked Dick quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. Look at this.” +</p> + +<p> +He took from his pocket a large sheet of foolscap paper; roughly +printed in pencil were the words: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Lord Chelford is safe. Don’t search for him, or he will be killed. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">The Black Abot</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The word “Abbot” was printed with one “b.” The placard had been found +hanging to the twig of a tree, the jagged hole at the top showing +where the mystery man had threaded the paper. +</p> + +<p> +“We found it halfway between the ruins and the house,” said Puttler. +“Curiously enough, we had only been searching that part of the grounds +a quarter of an hour before.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick handed the warning back to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that a bad joke or do you believe this paper?” asked Leslie +anxiously. “And, Dick, couldn’t I be some help? I know Fossaway Manor +so well, and I am sure there must be places where the police haven’t +looked. Do you know there are tiny caves in the banks of the +Ravensrill?” +</p> + +<p> +“They’ve all been searched, and they’re not big enough to hold a +large-sized dog,” said Dick. “If you want to be helpful you can come +up to the Manor and put my correspondence in order. I am afraid it has +been neglected in these days, and there are a whole lot of bills and +things to be entered up.” +</p> + +<p> +He had no real need for her, he thought, but whilst she was in the +neighbourhood he was anxious that she should be under his eyes. She +may have suspected something of this, but she gratefully accepted the +offer. +</p> + +<p> +“Drive up,” he warned her; “keep to the main road and the main drive. +Don’t stop for anybody, however well you know them, and take no notice +if you hear somebody shout at you.” +</p> + +<p> +In spite of her anxiety she laughed. +</p> + +<p> +“How very alarming that sounds!” +</p> + +<p> +After he had gone she busied herself with the affairs of the house, +arranged the dinner for that night, and was on the point of leaving, +when somebody rang the front-door bell. She was putting on her hat +before the mirror in her bedroom when the maid came up. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Wenner?” cried Leslie, aghast, and only then did she remember +that at Arthur’s request she had written inviting the girl to spend +the week-end with them. +</p> + +<p> +Here was a complication she had not foreseen. And yet, in the space +between her room and the hall, she had made up her mind, that, if +there was one thing she welcomed at this moment, it was the society of +a woman. +</p> + +<p> +Mary Wenner was in the hall and greeted her as effusively as if they +had been bosom friends, though in truth Leslie scarcely knew the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, I’m so glad to be back in this lovely old country!” she +said. “I couldn’t help thinking, as I was driving past dear old +Fossaway Manor, how perfectly peaceful everything is!” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie could have screamed! Peaceful! +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps it isn’t quite as peaceful as it looks, Miss Wenner,” she +said drily. +</p> + +<p> +“Call me Mary,” begged the girl. “I do so dislike formalism and +standoffness! It will be so awkward if Arthur calls me by my name and +you call me Miss… I mean…?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I’ll call you Mary with pleasure,” said Leslie. “I think you +know my name?” +</p> + +<p> +“A beautiful name,” said the ecstatic Miss Wenner. “The only thing +against it is, you can’t tell whether it’s a boy’s or a girl’s, can +you? Don’t you sometimes find that very embarrassing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never found it so yet,” said the girl, leading the way up to her +room. +</p> + +<p> +She waited till Mary had taken off her hat before she gave her news. +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur is in town, but he’ll be back to-night,” she said. “Have you +seen the newspapers?” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Wenner shook her head vigorously. +</p> + +<p> +“I never read the newspapers,” she said reprovingly. “They’re always +full of lies, and after the way they roasted me over my breach——” +She coughed. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment Leslie had a wild idea that the reference was an +indelicate one, and then the truth came to her. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever have a breach of promise action?” she asked, in +astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +Mary was very red, and her embarrassment was painful to witness. +</p> + +<p> +“I did have a little trouble with a young gentleman I went to business +with,” she admitted. “I was a mere girl at the time, young and silly +as it were, and I must say that I felt that I had to stand up for my +rights. A lot of people think it was unladylike, but I say that a girl +who is an orphan without parents must look after herself. I got fifty +pounds, and it wasn’t worth the trouble and the nuisance.” +</p> + +<p> +There was something about the girl that Leslie liked. Unconsciously +she was amusing, but there was a sterling value in her, she thought, +and Leslie had an uncanny knowledge of women. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I never read the papers, Miss Gwyn. After being told by the +<i>Daily Megaphone</i> that I had a curious mentality—I shall never forget +those words—I’ve given up the papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you haven’t heard what has happened at Fossaway Manor?” asked +Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +The startled girl listened, her mouth an O of amazement and horror. +</p> + +<p> +“Thomas? Why, I was only talking with him the other day! You don’t +think Harry is killed?” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what to think. Mr. Alford is very confident that he is +still alive, and they have just received a strange message which seems +to bear that out.” +</p> + +<p> +The girl was shocked, and Leslie could not help feeling that she was +hurt, too. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry Chelford was the best fellow in the world,” said Mary quietly. +“He was a little irritable and difficult to get on with—you don’t +mind me talking about him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Leslie. “You probably do not know that our engagement was +broken off?” +</p> + +<p> +This seemed to be a greater shock still. +</p> + +<p> +“Broken off? I’ll bet that was Dick Alford’s doing——” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Alford had nothing to do with it,” said Leslie, and Mary made a +rapid reëstimation of Dick Alford’s character, and she was eminently +adjustable. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick Alford is not a bad fellow really,” she said diplomatically. +“There is a great deal about him that I like. And he is <i>so</i> +good-looking!” +</p> + +<p> +She was a shrewd, discerning gamin, who had won through by her ability +to adjust her views at a moment’s notice. And in a fraction of a +second she had realized that perfect harmony with Arthur Gwyn’s sister +could be ensured only if her views on Richard Alford underwent a very +thorough reorganization. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t get on very well with him; I used to think he was a bit +overbearing. But it must have been rather a trial for him, poor +fellow!” A pause, and then: “I seem to have come at a pretty bad time, +Miss—Leslie. Would you like me to go back to London?” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait,” said her hostess, and, running downstairs, called Dick on the +’phone. He had just returned to the house as she rang. +</p> + +<p> +“Surely,” he said. “Bring her up. I think that would be rather a good +idea. And, Leslie, perhaps you would like to stay here the night. +Arthur can come along, too—you might leave him a note or wire him.” +</p> + +<p> +The idea was so appealing that she put no obstacles in the way, and +returned to carry Dick’s invitation to her guest. Miss Wenner accepted +with an alacrity that was almost indelicate. +</p> + +<p> +“I may be able to be of some help,” she said. “I know the ins and outs +of that place, and all the nooks and crannies. It is the treasure +that’s done it all, Leslie! He was always after that silly Life Water, +and I shouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t got into bad company.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Harry never went out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, he did,” was the surprising reply. “He often slipped off to +London when Mr. Alford was away. And there was something queer about +it, because Harry made me promise I would never tell Mr. Richard, as +he called him.” +</p> + +<p> +“How often did that happen?” asked Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes once a month, sometimes twice or three times a month. He +never went to the front drive; he followed the field path through the +cutting, and I used to arrange for a Horsham motor cab to meet him. He +used to go from Horsham and come back the same way, and I’ve known him +to ring me up before he came back, to ask me if Mr. Richard had +returned.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie wondered if Dick knew this. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve known him to go as many as three times a week when Mr. Richard +was up in Yorkshire, looking after the Doncaster estate,” added Mary, +and, virtuously: “I hope I have not let any cats out of the bag: all +young men are a bit wild.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch46"> +XLVI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> adaptability of Miss Wenner was never more strikingly +illustrated than in her greeting of Dick Alford. There was a coyness, +a shy friendliness in her glance, which might have deceived an +uninitiated spectator into believing that they were old lovers, parted +by cruel circumstances and meeting after an absence of years. Dick, +weary and heartbroken as he was, found in her the first cause for +amusement he had had in twenty-four hours. +</p> + +<p> +He had had rooms prepared for them in the east wing, which was +opposite to that in which his own room and Harry’s were situated. +There were two small apartments with a connecting door, which he had +assigned to Leslie and her guest. The next room had been prepared for +Arthur, and was adjoining. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve moved Puttler to this wing, too,” he explained, “though I don’t +suppose the poor fellow will get very much sleep for a night or two.” +</p> + +<p> +After he had shown them the rooms he took his departure, and Leslie +followed him along the corridor and overtook him at the head of the +stairs. +</p> + +<p> +“There is really nothing I can do, I suppose, Dick?” For she had +accepted the story of the disordered accounts as being a plausible +excuse on his part to get her to Fossaway Manor. +</p> + +<p> +To her surprise he said, “Yes,” and took her below to the study. +</p> + +<p> +“Here are the estate accounts. I haven’t touched them for three or +four days. Do you know anything about figures?” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded wisely. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you start in by checking these wages sheets? You’ll find the +books on the shelf, and you will be able to get the hang of my rather +simple system.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave her instructions how to deal with the bills that had +accumulated, and left her very contented. It was half-an-hour before +she remembered that she had left Mary Wenner in her room, and hurried +upstairs to apologize. She was to find Mary a very capable assistant, +for not only was the girl efficient in her work, but she knew all the +domestic mysteries of Fossaway. +</p> + +<p> +The two girls lunched alone, for Dick had sent a message to say that +he would not be back in time. +</p> + +<p> +“The place gives me the creeps,” said Mary with a shudder, and her +nervousness was not affectation. “The whole thing is frightful! Poor +Thomas killed, and Harry taken away heaven knows where—— Oh!” She +sprang to her feet, and her face had gone pale. “I know where Harry +is,” she said, quivering with excitement. “I know, I know!” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” asked the wondering Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +The girl ran out of the room into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Mr. Alford?” she asked quickly. “I must see him at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“He telephoned from Red Farm,” said Leslie. “Perhaps we can get him.” +</p> + +<p> +She turned the handle of the old-fashioned instrument and gave the Red +Farm number. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Dick? How lucky!” +</p> + +<p> +“I expected it was you. Is anything wrong?” he asked anxiously. +</p> + +<p> +“No; Mary Wenner has something she wants to tell you.” She lowered her +voice. “She thinks she knows where Harry is hidden.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a silence at the other end. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s not——” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, no.” With Mary within earshot, it was impossible to assure +Dick that the girl was not trying to make a sensation. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll come over right away,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +They went out to the head of the drive to meet him, and Mary offered +her theory. +</p> + +<p> +“I must have been mad not to have told you about this before. I don’t +know where my wits have gone,” she said. “After all my +treasure-hunting and the horrible experience I had that night with +Gilder, and not to think of it now, when I practically came down to +show Mr. Gwyn the place—well, I’m surprised at myself!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick listened with growing impatience to this preliminary. +</p> + +<p> +“Where do you think my brother is?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where?” said Miss Wenner triumphantly. “Why, under the Abbey—that’s +where. I’ll show you.” +</p> + +<p> +They walked side by side across the meadow, and as they went Miss +Wenner related the startling story of her adventures after treasure. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I always knew that it didn’t belong to me, even if I found +it,” she said virtuously; “but Mr. Gilder was so very pressing that I +couldn’t very well refuse him, especially after what he’d written in +vanishing ink, though I’ve got the ink back again, as he’ll find out +one of these days.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie listened, scarcely crediting her ears. Yet, unless Mary Wenner +had an imagination of a particularly inventive nature, it was hardly +likely that she could have made the story up. +</p> + +<p> +Dick examined the great corner-stone of the tower. He stood by, +watching curiously, whilst, with a pair of scissors which she took +from her bag, the girl pressed back the catch and sent the +corner-stone turning noisily on its invisible hinge. +</p> + +<p> +The opening was between twelve and fifteen inches wide. A stout man +could never have entered by that way, as Dick pointed out. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better stay here; I’ll go down,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll want a light,” warned Mary. +</p> + +<p> +There was a lamp in his pocket. He had spent the morning peering into +impossible dark places. In a second he had disappeared down the +moss-grown stairs, and Leslie waited with palpitating heart for his +reappearance. Presently they heard his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Come down.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not me,” said Mary hastily. “I’ve been there once, thank you!” +</p> + +<p> +And Leslie went alone guided by the light he showed from step to step. +</p> + +<p> +Now she was standing with him in the vaulted room. He tried first one +and then the other of the two doors leading from the antechamber, but +neither yielded to his touch. It was pitch dark save for the +fan-shaped ray of the lamp. He swept the light along wall and floor, +and presently she saw the focus halt upon a broken flagstone. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” he said quickly. He had moved the light to the narrow +entrance of the room. “Up you go; there is nothing here but mice and +memories. I have always known there were underground vaults in the +Abbey. In fact, I think there was a report on them by one of my recent +forbears.” +</p> + +<p> +Although he was immediately behind her, his voice seemed to come from +a distance. She was walking, and he gave her no help with his lamp, so +that she had to feel her way up. Turning her head, she saw that he was +ascending the stairs backward, keeping the light covering the stairs +below. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry,” he said tersely, and she stumbled up the remaining steps and +emerged into the blessed daylight. +</p> + +<p> +It was some time before he joined them, and when he came out she saw +that he was white to the lips. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you see, Dick?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing,” he said, and slammed the stone door tight. +</p> + +<p> +Of the little party, only Miss Wenner was unaffected by the atmosphere +which Dick Alford brought from that vaulted room. +</p> + +<p> +“… so far as Mr. Gilder said—and I don’t trust the man entirely, as +you can well understand, Leslie—there were only pieces of music in +lead cylinders—that was the word, ‘cylinders.’ To me they looked +rather more like rolls. And this Black Abbot must have cleared them +out whilst we had gone. Mr. Gilder <i>was</i> disappointed. In fact, he was +quite rude to me over the telephone. I do think a gentleman should +keep his temper in all circumstances, don’t you, dear?” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie agreed mechanically. +</p> + +<p> +What had Dick seen? What object was it that showed for a second in the +light of his lamp? +</p> + +<p> +Near to the house he made an excuse to them. He had to go back to Red +Farm to finish his interview with the obstinate Mr. Leonard; but he +did not take his car. He said he would take the short cut, and Leslie +thought it was not the moment to question him. She watched him until +he disappeared in the fold of the ground. He was heading for the +Abbey. The other girl had gone in to finish her lunch, and Leslie +hesitated. The thought of his going back to that dark room again +filled her with blind panic. She wanted to call out to him and bring +him back, but he was out of hearing now, and she obeyed an impulse and +went after him. +</p> + +<p> +He was not in sight until she climbed the second of the gentle slopes. +Here she stopped; he might resent being overlooked, and she lay down +on the grass, watching him. She saw him come to the square tower, +pause at the corner, and disappear apparently into space. From such a +distance, the effect of his entry was eerie. The entrance was so small +that he seemed to melt into the solid stonework. Ten minutes passed, a +quarter of an hour, and then a long, interminable wait; she heard the +village clock strike two. A lark in the blue was singing his +passionate song; over by Red Farm a donkey was braying—a ludicrous +accompaniment to what might be stark tragedy. +</p> + +<p> +She was on the point of rising and running across to the ruins, to +follow him into the depths, when he appeared again. He came slowly +forth, turned and closed the stone door and leaned against it, his +head on his arm, a picture of tragic despair. +</p> + +<p> +She stopped and sank down on her knees, the better to escape +observation, and presently he walked slowly away, and it was the gait +of a broken man. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch47"> +XLVII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Hurrying</span> back the way she had come, she joined Mary in the study. +Puttler she had not seen since the early morning, when he cycled to +Willow House to bring the notice he had found. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear,” said Mary, “I’m not so sure I shall stay here to-night. +This place is full of shocks! I’d like to see your brother very much +indeed, but you can tell him all about the room under the Abbey, can’t +you? That’s where the gold is—you mark my words!” +</p> + +<p> +“The gold?” Leslie for a moment did not understand. “Oh, you mean the +Chelford treasure?” +</p> + +<p> +The horrible thing! It was behind all this misery; behind the killing +of Thomas and the disappearance of Harry. She said as much, and Miss +Wenner, not pausing in her typewriting, calmly expressed the view that +it was very likely. +</p> + +<p> +Shock followed shock indeed! At half-past four Leslie’s maid brought a +letter which had come by special delivery. It was in Arthur’s writing; +she tore it open and read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dear Leslie</span>: +</p> + +<p> +You are under no circumstances to marry Gilder. I refuse to allow you +to sacrifice yourself for me, now or at any time. I am going away to +France for a few months, and will return when things have blown over. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Ordinarily quick-witted, it was a long time before Leslie could +understand the significance of this message. When she did, she took +the letter to Dick, and he read it without comment and handed it back +to her. +</p> + +<p> +“What does that mean, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“It means that Arthur has taken the line of least resistance,” he +said. “To put it vulgarly, he has bolted!” +</p> + +<p> +Her heart sank, and in that moment she felt terribly alone. As if he +read her thoughts, he went on: +</p> + +<p> +“He has certainly precipitated the crisis, but I don’t see exactly how +it will affect you. There was nothing else in the letter?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head and opened the envelope, and then saw a slip of +paper which she had overlooked. It was an authority to sell his +business, drawn up in legal form, and had evidently been added as an +afterthought. +</p> + +<p> +“If there are no further defalcations that ought to be worth +something,” said Dick. “I’ll see what I can do.” +</p> + +<p> +But on this point she was firm. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’ve enough trouble without mine,” she said quietly. “Did +you find anything in the ruins?” +</p> + +<p> +He started. +</p> + +<p> +“Why—no,” he said, a little unconvincingly. “Did you see me go back?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I spied on you,” she said, with a pathetic little smile. +“Dick, I’m so worried about you; I wish you wouldn’t go into these +places alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“There was nothing to fear,” he said. “I thought I saw something on +the floor which gave me a clue to Harry’s fate, but it was +nothing—nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +He changed the subject abruptly. She had a feeling that he was not +telling her all that he had seen. +</p> + +<p> +Mary and she had dinner alone, and Mr. Glover, the butler, free from +the restraining presence of Dick Alford, was inclined to be talkative. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s no doubt Mr. Alford looks after the policemen. I have had to +get a food basket ready—thermos flask and everything the heart can +desire. Personally, miss, I don’t believe in pampering the police. +They’re only dissatisfied when they go back to their own homes. He +won’t have anybody take the basket down to them either. ‘No,’ he said, +‘I’ll take it myself. You have it ready at nine o’clock, put it just +outside the servants’ door.’ My own opinion is that they’d be much +more pleased with bread and cheese and a bottle of beer. What’s the +good of making chicken sandwiches for policemen? And having a bottle +of the best wine up from the cellar! It’s a waste of good food!” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie listened, petrified. Now she understood! +</p> + +<p> +The food was not for the police—it was for Harry! Harry, held +prisoner in Chelford Abbey—by whom? +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch48"> +XLVIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The</span> bane of life that day had been the London reporters. The Red +Lion Inn at Chelfordbury was already filled with them, and not an hour +passed that one did not make his way to the house in a vain endeavour +to interview the Second Son. One intercepted him in Elm Drive, and to +him, as to the rest, he gave the same reply. +</p> + +<p> +“You boys can’t expect me to tell you any more than I already know,” +he said, at bay. “My brother has disappeared, but I believe he is +still alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who do you think is responsible for these outrages, Mr. Alford?” +asked the reporter. +</p> + +<p> +Dick shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“If I knew, it isn’t reasonable to suppose that I should be discussing +the matter with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it the Black Abbot?” +</p> + +<p> +“The Black Abbot has nothing whatever to do with this crime,” said +Dick shortly. “Unless I credit you with being so foolish as to believe +in ghosts, it is unnecessary for me to tell you that there is no such +thing as a Black Abbot, and the figure that has been seen in these +grounds was somebody masquerading for his own purpose.” +</p> + +<p> +“A practical joke?” suggested the newspaper man. +</p> + +<p> +Dick shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think it was a practical joke; indeed, I am sure there is +something very serious behind it. But I can’t tell you any more.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Alford,” said the reporter, “I’m going to ask you a very delicate +question, and I hope you won’t think it an impertinence. If your +brother is dead, then the title comes to you, does it not?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t be offended if I tell you that there is a little talk in +the village of some antagonism between your brother and you. I am told +there have been frequent quarrels.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick mastered his anger with a great effort, realizing that the +reporter was not intending to be impertinent, but simply epitomizing +the gossip of the countryside. +</p> + +<p> +“My brother was very nervous and quick-tempered,” he said, “but I’ve +never had a serious quarrel with him in my life.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it true that Lord Chelford’s fiancée, Miss Leslie Gwyn, recently +broke off her engagement with your brother?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly true,” said Dick, stifling his impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“And yet she is staying at Fossaway Manor as your guest?” The keen +eyes of the reporter were watching him closely. He saw the blood mount +to his victim’s cheeks and hastened to add: “I’m merely telling you +what other people will tell you, Mr. Alford. I have a much wider +experience of the uncharity and suspicion that surround every man +associated with a crime like this. If you are annoyed with me I can +understand it, but I can assure you that I only want to help you.” +</p> + +<p> +“That I quite believe,” said Dick with a smile. “But you can +understand just how embarrassing your questions are. I will tell you +the truth and you may put it into your paper. I am satisfied there is +a very terrible danger overhanging Miss Leslie Gwyn, and it is for +that reason, and that reason alone, I have asked her to stay at the +hall, which is under police protection and where I know she will be +safe. Her brother has gone abroad, and I cannot allow her to stay at +Willow House alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean she is in danger from the same person that killed Thomas the +footman, and who is responsible for the disappearance of Lord +Chelford?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick nodded, and the newspaper man made a mental note. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” he said. “You will find that this little talk has cleared +the air. In cases like this, if you clear up the minor mysteries as +you go along, it makes for everybody’s comfort.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick, who had been trembling with anger through the interview, had to +agree, in the calm moments which followed, that the reporter had taken +a sane view of the matter. When he met Leslie a few minutes later, he +told her of the interview. She was in the study alone, and had just +finished writing a letter, which lay face downward on the +blotting-pad. She saw him glance at the envelope and turned it up. It +was addressed to Fabrian Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +“What have you said?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve told him that I’ve considered the matter, and I’ve decided that +I could not marry him—in any circumstances it would be impossible +now, so soon after Harry’s disappearance.” +</p> + +<p> +He picked up the letter and, taking out his pocket case, tore off a +stamp and affixed it. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll see that this goes,” he said grimly. Then, seeing her tired +face: “Poor old girl, you’re having a bad time.” +</p> + +<p> +The pressure of her hand, the love and sympathy in her voice, were +almost too much for him, and he had to set his teeth or he would have +taken her in his arms, and, in that place of tragedy and horror, told +her of the love that was shaking him, and which had added a new and +fearful burden to his overstrung nerves. +</p> + +<p> +“Go to bed early,” he said, with an effort at gaiety, “and rise with +the dawn. I shall be busy till very late.” +</p> + +<p> +“The butler was telling me that you have ordered a basket of food for +the policemen.” +</p> + +<p> +Not a muscle of his face moved. +</p> + +<p> +“That is so; one or two men who are patrolling the cutting need a +little light refreshment. They cannot get to the house and we haven’t +men to relieve them.” +</p> + +<p> +She was sensible enough not to pursue the subject. +</p> + +<p> +It was only on her earnest entreaty that, as the night grew on, Mary +Wenner remained. The girl was a bundle of nerves, started at every +sound, paled and flushed with the opening of a door, and the sound of +a falling plate in the servery whilst they were at dinner had made her +scream. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t help it, my dear; I’m naturally temperamental,” she +explained. “And this house has got me shivering. I can’t leave another +young lady without a chaperon, or I’d fly off to London before it got +dark.” +</p> + +<p> +She had been in the library that afternoon, she told Leslie, and the +sight of that familiar room with its empty chair had been almost the +last straw. +</p> + +<p> +“I had to have a good cry,” she confessed, “and I’m not ashamed of it. +Harry was one of the best—you don’t mind me calling him Harry, do +you, dear?” And, when Leslie shook her head: “I can’t say that I was +fond of him as a young girl ought to be fond of a man she loves, but +he was very nice. He had his tempers, the same as the rest of us, but +they were only his high spirits. I could never understand why he hated +Mr. Alford.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie looked at her incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Hated Mr. Alford?” she repeated. “Surely you’re mistaken? They were +very good friends.” +</p> + +<p> +Mary shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“No, they weren’t,” she said. “It all arose out of her ladyship’s +picture.” +</p> + +<p> +“The late Lady Chelford?” +</p> + +<p> +“That was the lady,” nodded Mary. “It happened three years ago. Dick +Alford suggested that the portrait should be moved to the gallery. I +think he was silly to say it, knowing how Harry adored his mother, and +when he said the picture was depressing—and that was the silliest +thing of all—Harry got right up in the air! It was dreadful, the +things he said to Mr. Alford—and before me, too! Dick Alford realized +his mistake: I could see that, and he tried to pacify Harry, but for a +fortnight they didn’t speak.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was silent. Slowly the inner life of Fossaway Manor was +beginning to reveal itself to her; she had seen nothing of these +cross-currents, had not suspected, even dimly, the conflicting +antagonism which must have been visible to Harry Chelford’s secretary. +</p> + +<p> +“They were very friendly sometimes. You’d think that Harry was fond of +him, and I think he was,” Mary continued; “but the quarrels used to +break out every now and then, once because Dick always stood with his +back to the picture, and never looked at it at all. He hated it, I’m +sure of that. Of course, he never took me into his confidence. We were +not what you might term good friends. I suppose it was foolish of me +to take up Harry’s quarrel, but I never liked Dick—you don’t mind me +calling him Dick?—after that.” +</p> + +<p> +She glanced nervously through the window. The sun had set, and dusk +was creeping over the great park. +</p> + +<p> +“If I get any sleep to-night I’ll be lucky,” she said. “Do you mind if +I leave my door open and keep a light burning?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, of course not,” smiled Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a lock on the door, and I asked Glover to find me the key,” +Miss Wenner went on. “And I’ll tell you frankly, Leslie, that if he +hadn’t found it I wouldn’t have stayed, not for all the money in the +world.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie felt that it would be indiscreet to offer encouragement to a +further discussion of this subject, for she was as reluctant to spend +the night under that roof as her new-found friend. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch49"> +XLIX +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Though</span> she waited up till nearly eleven, she did not see Dick, and, +in response to the repeated hints of the girl, they went upstairs +together. +</p> + +<p> +The Manor was lighted by a power plant which was accommodated in a +small shed midway between the house and the Ravensrill, and owed its +installation to Dick’s enterprise. +</p> + +<p> +Harry had always had candles in his room, Mary told her, but had +accepted the lighting of his library as a compromise. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a very strange thing,” said Mary from her inner room, “but Harry +was afraid of electricity. In thunderstorms he always went down into +the cellar and stayed there until they were over. He used to have a +bed which was made every day in the summer, in case of a storm coming +on in the night, and——” +</p> + +<p> +At that moment all the lights in the room went out. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you turned the lights off?” asked Mary’s anxious voice. +</p> + +<p> +“No, I haven’t been near the switch; I expect a fuse has gone,” said +the girl. +</p> + +<p> +There were matches and candles on the dressing table, she remembered, +and, groping her way to the table, she lit the two candles. Mary was +standing in the doorway, very pale and wide-eyed. +</p> + +<p> +“What was the meaning of that?” she asked, her voice sharp with fear, +which was beginning to communicate itself to Leslie. +</p> + +<p> +She forced a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“That happens in the best regulated houses,” she said, with spurious +gaiety. “The door is locked, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she heard footsteps in the corridor; there was a knock at the +door that made Mary jump. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you there, Leslie?” It was Dick’s voice. “Something has gone +wrong with the lighting arrangements; we’ll put it right in a minute +or two.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are the lights out everywhere?” asked Mary, but he was gone. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty minutes passed and again Leslie heard his footsteps +approaching. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid we sha’n’t be able to fix up the lights till the morning. +Have you candles? Did Glover put a flash light for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve everything we want,” said Leslie. “Don’t worry about us: we +shall be asleep in ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not me,” murmured Miss Wenner tremulously. “I sha’n’t sleep a wink!” +</p> + +<p> +By the light of her candle she had replaced most of the garments she +had discarded when the lights went out. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew I oughtn’t to have stayed—there’s somebody coming along the +corridor!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is only Mr. Alford.” +</p> + +<p> +But her ears caught the sound of two pairs of feet, and presently +Dick’s voice spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind if I leave one of Puttler’s men outside your door?” he +asked. “Don’t be alarmed if you hear him walking about in the night.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is anything wrong, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, nothing wrong; only I knew Miss Wenner was rather nervous.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am,” quavered Miss Wenner loudly. “It’s very good of you, Mr. +Alford.” +</p> + +<p> +“You had better keep your windows fastened,” said Dick. “There is a +system of ventilation in the room, so you needn’t be afraid of waking +with a headache. Good-night.” +</p> + +<p> +When he had gone, Mary Wenner looked solemnly at her companion. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you hear what he said about keeping the windows shut?” she asked +hollowly. “My Gawd!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be silly, Mary.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was past feeling comfortable, but she had need to set an +example. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along, I’ll help you fasten the windows.” +</p> + +<p> +“ ‘Keep the windows fastened,’ ” repeated Mary Wenner. “There’s +something doing!” +</p> + +<p> +They went from one to the other of the leaded windows, closed them and +pressed down the catches. Suddenly Mary clutched the girl’s arm +fiercely. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a man under my bed!” she gasped, staring wildly at the +drooping counterpane. +</p> + +<p> +With a fluttering heart Leslie lifted the cover, and pulled out a pair +of riding boots, the soles of which the frightened secretary had seen, +and they both laughed hysterically. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I could bring my bed into your room.” Mary looked helplessly +at the heavy four-poster to which she had been assigned. +</p> + +<p> +“You can come and sleep with me,” said Leslie. “I’ve got a big bed.” +And this offer was most gratefully accepted. +</p> + +<p> +“Have a look under your bed first,” said Miss Wenner nervously, and +not till this ritual had been observed did she commence very slowly to +undress. +</p> + +<p> +Down below in the library, Dick was in consultation with Puttler, who +had just returned from a hasty visit to Scotland Yard. +</p> + +<p> +“The batteries were smashed, and an attempt had been made to cut the +main cable,” reported Dick. “I got to the power house just after it +happened, but I saw nobody.” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler pulled at his comic little nose and there was a look of +trouble in his brown eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“The Commissioner thinks you ought to have a dozen men down here and +make a clean-up,” he said. “I’ve brought three, and I think they all +ought to be inside the house. One we’ve got in the east wing, another +in the west, and a patrol in the hall. That will leave you and me and +the local ‘flatties’ for the grounds. Though I think we might as well +stay here—you want a battalion to patrol the estate properly. By the +way, when I was looking round early this morning I found a great mound +of earth in the northeast corner of the estate, near the river. One of +your gamekeepers told me it was called Chelford Greed. What is the +idea?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was not in an archæological mood, but he explained. +</p> + +<p> +“One of my ancestors—I don’t know which one—planned and carried out +a big steal. You probably know that the charter by which we received +these lands from King Henry confines the northern boundary of the +estate to the course of the Ravensrill, and the ingenious Chelford of +the times had the idea of changing the course of the Ravensrill so +that the estate would embrace another thousand acres. The Chelford +Greed was the dam he built. The natural course of the Ravensrill runs +through the Long Meadow. It was one of those clever little pieces of +robbery that have made us landed proprietors what we are! As I say, I +don’t know which of the Chelfords planned this piece of larceny, +because there is no written record, and the legend has come down from +mouth to mouth, so to speak.” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up at the big portrait above the fireplace and shook his +head. +</p> + +<p> +“Lady,” he said softly, “you’ve given me a lot of trouble!” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler was interested. +</p> + +<p> +“As how?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll tell you one of these days,” said Dick. “I wonder if those girls +are asleep?” +</p> + +<p> +He stole quietly up the stairs. The man on duty in the corridor +flashed a lamp upon him as he approached. +</p> + +<p> +“No sound,” he whispered, and Dick crept downstairs again. +</p> + +<p> +It was arranged that he and Puttler should snatch a few hours’ sleep +in turn, the other patrolling round and round the block of buildings. +At two o’clock in the morning he was aroused from a deep slumber to +feel Puttler shaking gently at his shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing has happened,” said the detective, eyeing with a friendly +look the sofa from which Dick struggled. “I’ve warmed up some grub for +you.” +</p> + +<p> +A spirit stove was burning on the desk and the kettle above was +steaming. Dick poured the black coffee into a glass and scalded +himself to wakefulness. +</p> + +<p> +“One of the local men thought he saw somebody moving and challenged,” +reported Puttler, settling himself down with a luxurious sigh. “But it +was probably only a bush. These birds are jumpy—they see a Black +Abbot in every shadow!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick sipped at the boiling fluid and broke a biscuit with his +disengaged hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God, this can’t go on much longer!” he said. “By the way, did +you bring those papers from London?” +</p> + +<p> +“I gave them to you in the library: they were in the blue envelope.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick put down the glass. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d better keep them in my safe,” he said. “I don’t want the servants +to see them.” +</p> + +<p> +He crossed the hall, unlocked the door of the library and went in, +mechanically switching on the light, and only then remembering that +for the time being Fossaway Manor was denied the service of the little +power house. He went back to the study and got his lamp and picked his +way across the room to the desk. The envelope was where he had put it, +and he slipped this into his pocket. As he did so, he was aware that a +cold wind was blowing. He sent his light along the windows. That at +the end was open; one of the curtains, which had been drawn across lay +in a heap on the ground. +</p> + +<p> +He went to the door and called Puttler softly and the detective joined +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody has been here,” he said, and pointed to the curtain and the +twisted pole that had supported it. +</p> + +<p> +It was easy to see how the intruder had made his way into the library. +Two of the panes near the iron handle which fastened one leaf of the +window had been broken, and evidently the midnight visitor, in +entering, must have fallen and, catching hold of the curtain to save +himself, brought it to the ground, breaking away the pole which was +hanging drunkenly. +</p> + +<p> +“I passed here ten minutes ago, and the window was shut then,” said +Puttler. +</p> + +<p> +“He may have been inside at the moment,” replied Dick thoughtfully. “I +wonder what has been taken?” +</p> + +<p> +He examined the desk. Evidently the intruder had not opened any of the +drawers, though, if he had done so, his labours would have been in +vain, since Dick had cleared every document out of the room early in +the day. As they circulated the room, Puttler stumbled over something. +</p> + +<p> +“Where did this come from?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +It was a light ladder, and Dick recognized it as one of two that were +part of the library furniture, and was employed to reach books from +the top shelf of the lower tier. +</p> + +<p> +“When I saw this last it was standing at the end of the room,” he +said. +</p> + +<p> +He flashed his lamp up on to the shelves, looking for a gap in the +long line of books. So doing, his lamp swept across that space +intervening between the shelves which was covered by the portrait of +the late Lady Chelford. He could see the big gold frame, caught a +glimpse of one white hand hanging gracefully, and then something +brought his lamp back. He heard the churchwarden detective swear +softly. Himself, he was speechless. The light of his lamp focussed on +the place where the woman’s face had been, and where now was a black +emptiness. +</p> + +<p> +The face and shoulders of the picture had been cut from the frame, and +the ragged strands of canvas told him that it had been cut by an +unskilful hand. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch50"> +L +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Neither</span> man spoke until they were back in the little study, and then +Puttler looked gloomily at his companion. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you make of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven knows!” groaned Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The study door was closed, and he had pulled across a dark curtain +which had been hung that day for the purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I’d better get out, though I don’t suppose I shall find +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait until I’ve had the remainder of your coffee and I’ll come with +you,” said Puttler. “No, Mr. Alford, I never felt less like sleep. We +shall have daylight in a couple of hours. Wait.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned out the oil lamp which had been requisitioned from the +kitchen, blew down the glass chimney, and the room was in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Now you can pull open those curtains and go out,” he said, “if that +is your way.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick moved the curtains slightly and looked out. The world lay +peaceful, silent, in the pallid light of the moon, and as he opened +the door, the sweet scent of the earth and the cold morn greeted him +fragrantly. +</p> + +<p> +His foot was raised to step across the threshold when Puttler’s big +hand closed round his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait,” he whispered again. +</p> + +<p> +Dick stood motionless. +</p> + +<p> +“I see nothing,” he said in the same tone. +</p> + +<p> +Still Puttler held him, his head bent, listening. +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he said, released his grip, and stepped out on to the +little terrace before the Second Son. +</p> + +<p> +He gave a swift glance left and right. +</p> + +<p> +“What was it?” asked Dick, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“Somebody breathing,” was Puttler’s astonishing reply. “You won’t +believe that I could hear a man breathing a dozen yards away, but I +can. It’s one of my many animal qualities.” +</p> + +<p> +He took a little run, cleared the gravel path in a bound, and went +noiselessly along the grass to the left. Presently Dick saw him +returning at a jog-trot. The detective went past and disappeared round +the wing of the block. In a few minutes he returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Hearing and scent are my two qualities. Can you smell anything?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick sniffed the morning air. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he confessed. +</p> + +<p> +“Come along with me.” +</p> + +<p> +This time he walked softly across the path, explaining that he was +afraid of waking the girls who slept almost immediately above them. +</p> + +<p> +They went to the end of the wing, and then the sergeant halted. +</p> + +<p> +“Now do you smell anything?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +Dick sniffed again. There was a sweet odour in the air, the scent of +some exotic flower that seemed familiar to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Does anybody in this house smoke scented cigarettes?” asked the +detective, and Dick went suddenly cold. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your brother, eh?” Puttler’s deep-set eyes surveyed him in the half +light. “That doesn’t necessarily mean that he is smoking them. Where +were they kept?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the library as a rule.” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler began searching the grounds with the aid of his lamp. He had +not gone far before he saw something and picked it up. It was a +half-smoked cigarette with a rose-leaf tip. +</p> + +<p> +“Humph!” muttered Puttler, and continued his search—a search which +yielded no further evidence. +</p> + +<p> +Retracing their steps, they passed the study door, and Puttler, who +was walking a little ahead, stumbled over something and put his light +to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +“You keep rather a lot of ladders about here, Mr. Alford,” he said, in +a low voice. “A library ladder outside? What’s the great idea?” +</p> + +<p> +The ladder was lying parallel with the gravel drive, and Puttler +examined it rung by rung. +</p> + +<p> +“That wasn’t here last night, I’ll take my oath,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said Dick, puzzled; “it usually hangs on two pegs near the +garage.” +</p> + +<p> +He lifted it up. It was a long, light, triangular ladder tapering to a +point at the top, and used by the staff for outside window cleaning. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better have it chained up,” was all Puttler said after he had +finished his inspection. “The man who brought this here was the man +who cut off your light supply and, incidentally——” +</p> + +<p> +Far away in the grounds came the faint sound of a man’s voice, +challenging in military fashion. +</p> + +<p> +“Halt! Who goes there?” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s Renwick, a local man,” said Puttler immediately. +</p> + +<p> +They ran toward the sound of the voice, and presently saw the flicker +of his lantern; and it was a badly scared man who challenged them a +few minutes later. He had seen nothing, he said, but he had heard +voices. +</p> + +<p> +“One of them was laughing. I thought at first it was you, Sergeant, +but when I heard it again it was so wild that I got a little nervous.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did anybody answer your challenge?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, but the voices stopped. I couldn’t hear the woman’s voice——” +</p> + +<p> +“The woman’s voice?” said Dick quickly. “Was it a woman? Surely you’re +mistaken?” +</p> + +<p> +“I could swear to it,” said the watcher. “It was the woman’s voice I +heard first, and the man who laughed. I think the voices must have +stopped as soon as I put my lamp on.” +</p> + +<p> +“In what direction?” +</p> + +<p> +The policeman pointed across Long Meadow, the shallow, valley-like +depression which ran parallel with the rising ground on which the +Abbey stood. To the left there were a number of cottages, occupied in +the main by people working on the estate, two gamekeepers, a carter +and a groom. It was from one of these cottages that the Black Abbot +had been seen and reported by a terrified gamekeeper. +</p> + +<p> +“They sounded as if they were walking away from you over the Mound to +the river—or to the ruins?” suggested Puttler. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” confessed the man, “they might have been going that way: I +can’t be sure.” +</p> + +<p> +“That certainly beats the band,” said the sergeant, as they were +moving in the direction the man had indicated. +</p> + +<p> +“He must have been mistaken,” said Dick with emphasis. “They were +walking away from him——” +</p> + +<p> +“They,” repeated Puttler significantly. “I don’t think he was wrong at +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is another possible solution,” said Dick. “Sometimes the people +at Chelfordbury avail themselves of a short cut across the park to a +neighbouring village.” +</p> + +<p> +“At three o’clock in the morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“There may have been a dance,” suggested Dick lamely. +</p> + +<p> +“A short cut through a park that’s known to be haunted and where a +murder was committed two nights ago?” +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer to this. +</p> + +<p> +They reached the bank and followed along the top till they were +parallel with the Abbey, but there was no sign of man or woman, and +they turned back. In spite of his protestations of wakefulness, +Sergeant Puttler did not resist the suggestion that he should take his +sleep. Dick was left alone to his vigil. +</p> + +<p> +By the time daylight came he was a very weary man. Twice in the night +he had visited the two men posted in the corridors above, found them +awake, but in each case with nothing to report. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank goodness, at any rate, somebody’s had some sleep!” he muttered, +as he passed under the girl’s window and glanced up. +</p> + +<p> +The morning wind which stirred the trees and filled the world with the +pleasant music of rustling leaves moved also the casement window of +the room which he had assigned to Mary Wenner. The window swayed to +and fro slowly, and he inwardly condemned the girl for not carrying +out his instructions. +</p> + +<p> +By six o’clock the first of the servants was stirring; smoke was +crawling lazily from one of the big twisted chimneys. He was sitting +in envious contemplation of Sergeant Puttler when the door of the +study burst violently open and Mary Wenner came in. She was in her +dressing gown; her untidy hair floated over her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Alford,” she asked agitatedly, “have you seen Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +He was on his feet in an instant and the movement woke the sleeping +detective. +</p> + +<p> +“No; she’s with you, isn’t she?” +</p> + +<p> +“We went to bed together,” said the girl, in a tremulous tone, “but +when I woke up just now she was not in the room. I waited awhile, +thinking she was taking her bath, and then I went outside and asked +the man you put there. He said she hadn’t come out of the room!” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler, listening, dragged himself erect. +</p> + +<p> +“The ladder!” he said simply, and Dick reeled under the blow. The +Black Terror of Fossaway Manor had in his grip the woman for whom he +would have given his soul and counted it no heavy price. +</p> + +<p> +Running out on to the lawn, Puttler searched beneath the window. Yes, +there were the marks of the ladder in the mould of a garden bed, and +on the ladder itself he found confirmatory proof. Lifting it against +the wall, he scrambled up, and came breast-high to the window-sill on +its top-most rung. Drawing himself up, he sprang into the room and +looked round for some clue. By this time Mary Wenner, followed by +Dick, had come through the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Her dressing gown isn’t gone!” whimpered Mary, pointing to the hook +where it had hung. “But her shoes are. She must have dressed—and I +didn’t hear.” +</p> + +<p> +The tired man at the door had heard no sound in the night. A thick +carpet covered the floor. Mary said that, when she woke, the door +which communicated between the two rooms was closed. +</p> + +<p> +She had heard no sound at all, and claimed that she was a light +sleeper, which, in fact, she was not. When she had gone to sleep the +candle was burning. Examining this, Dick saw that it would not have +been alight for more than an hour. There were two burnt matches in the +tray, which meant that the candle had been extinguished once and lit +again. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder she didn’t wake me; I’m usually a light sleeper.…” +</p> + +<p> +Dick left the girl explaining to the watcher who had been on guard +outside the door. +</p> + +<p> +“It was her voice, of course, that the patrol man heard in the dark. I +blame myself that I didn’t jump at that idea.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like to keep all the blame!” said Dick bitterly. “Oh, God! it +doesn’t bear thinking about!” +</p> + +<p> +He went away on a solitary search; none saw him slip through the back +of the house, and he moved under cover of the river bank. When he +returned, after an absence of two hours, Puttler told him that there +was a message from the Home Office awaiting him. That institution had +rung up twice. Dick got through after a wait, and learned that he was +talking to an important under-secretary. +</p> + +<p> +“Could you run up to London for an hour?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it necessary?” asked Dick, and he explained with all rapidity the +happenings of the night. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you had better see us as soon as you possibly can. In view +of all the circumstances you cannot come too soon.” +</p> + +<p> +With a curse Dick hung up the ’phone, and this time he took Harry’s +big two-seater, a car that his brother had only used a dozen times, +but the use of which he had steadfastly refused to anybody else. +</p> + +<p> +Just as he was leaving he recalled a resolution he had made in the +night; he ran upstairs into his room, and, bolting the door, opened a +locked drawer of his dressing chest and took out something which he +put carefully in his bag. That must be removed from Fossaway Manor as +soon as possible, he thought. He put the bag in the boot of the car +and sent the machine flying down the drive. +</p> + +<p> +Midway between Horsham and Dorking, a motorist, coming from the +opposite direction by another route, shot at a fast pace from a forked +road right across his path. Dick jammed on the brakes and the big car +skidded halfway round, struck the concrete curb with a thud, but no +damage was done, and he went on, with a glare at the goggled driver of +the machine at fault that was murderous. +</p> + +<p> +He did not hear the cover of the dickey snap open, nor did he see the +brown bag leap up and roll over on to the sidewalk. But the man in the +other car saw all this through his big goggles, and, restarting his +machine, brought it to the curb. +</p> + +<p> +And there and then, Fabrian Gilder discovered the secret of the Black +Abbot! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch51"> +LI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">At nine</span> o’clock that morning Mr. Fabrian Gilder had risen intending +to make a hurried visit to his country cottage. The newspapers had +been full of the Chelford tragedy, but no mention had been made of the +fact that Thomas had been Mr. Gilder’s guest. Such a happening, he +realized, being an intelligent man, must necessarily upset all +arrangements and plans that the girl had made. +</p> + +<p> +There was a lot about Fabrian Gilder that was admirable. To his +servants he was a kind master; to all who knew him superficially, an +excellent and even a generous friend. He was in truth no worse than +the average man in point of desires, a little better in his fairness +of dealing. Arthur Gwyn had been legitimate prey, but he had, he +thought, treated him with scrupulous fairness. He had succeeded, by +the exploitation of the lawyer’s weakness, in amassing a very +considerable fortune; but then, the City of London, and, for the +matter of that, the City of New York, was filled with rich men who had +founded their houses upon the cupidity or folly of men who were now +almost penniless. +</p> + +<p> +He glanced at the morning papers. There was nothing new reported from +Chelford, except the little interview that one reporter had had with +Dick, and that paragraph was, in many ways, very comforting to Gilder, +for it explained why the girl—and then his eye caught sight of a +line. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Mr. Alford said he had asked Miss Leslie Gwyn to stay at Fossaway +Manor whilst her brother was abroad.… +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Abroad? He frowned. If Arthur Gwyn had gone abroad he must have left +very suddenly. He had seen him only a day or two before. But perhaps +that was one of Dick Alford’s lies to save the girl’s face. Still, it +was disquieting. +</p> + +<p> +He was pondering this matter when the maid brought him his morning +letters, and the first he saw was one in a well-known hand. It was +from Leslie. He tore it open with trembling fingers, took out the half +sheet of paper and read the few lines. He read it not once but many +times. So that was that! She had changed her mind. +</p> + +<p> +It did not occur to him that she had not made any promise but he was +so sure of her, so satisfied in his mind that she would agree to his +proposal, that he felt he had been tricked. +</p> + +<p> +When the shock had worn off, his anger and resentment grew. Very well: +if she could not keep her promise, he at least would keep his. He +understood now, he thought. Arthur had bolted, and there was no +necessity for the girl to make her sacrifice. He had been fooled, +tricked. He pushed the chair back from the table, leaving his +breakfast untouched, and, going into his library, turned the handle of +the combination and pulled open the door of the safe with a savage +jerk. There was the letter, all ready to post, and at the sight of it +his heart grew hard and sour. +</p> + +<p> +He took out the letter, made to tear it into fragments, and then +remembered that inside was a blank check. He pulled out the sheet of +notepaper and felt for the little pink slip that in his magnificence +he had signed with a complacent flourish. It was not there! +</p> + +<p> +Gilder peered into the envelope with a frown. Gone! He searched the +safe: it might have fallen out, though how, he could not imagine; but +there was no sign of the check. He unlocked his drawer and took out +his check-book. There was the counterfoil, and written across it, “For +Leslie——.” He had intended to show her that counterfoil one of these +days, when she felt more kindly toward him. +</p> + +<p> +With his head in his hands he tried to remember when he had last seen +the check, and then he recalled that it was on the morning Arthur Gwyn +had called to see him. At that thought he went white. Surely he had +closed the safe? Again he struggled to remember, minute by minute, +that fateful morning. He had been looking at the letter, he had put it +away, he had closed the door, and then—the telephone bell had rung +and he had forgotten to fasten the safe! +</p> + +<p> +He pulled the ’phone toward him now and called furiously for a number. +It was twenty past nine; most of the staff of the bank would be there. +When the call was answered: +</p> + +<p> +“I am Mr. Gilder,” he said quickly. “Is the manager there?… No? Then +the sub-manager will do. It is very urgent.” +</p> + +<p> +He waited whilst the clerk went to investigate. Presently he heard the +voice of a man he knew—the manager himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I just came in at this moment. Is anything wrong?” +</p> + +<p> +“Fletcher, do you remember my telling you that I should be sending +down a check for fifty thousand pounds and asking you to honour it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes; I honoured it.” +</p> + +<p> +For a second Gilder was speechless. +</p> + +<p> +“You honoured it? Who presented the check?” +</p> + +<p> +“Arthur Gwyn—it was made out in his favour. I notified you last +night; didn’t you get my letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“I haven’t opened all my post yet,” said Gilder steadily. “Thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +He hung up the receiver, breathing heavily. For now he remembered +clearly every event of the morning: the coming of Arthur Gwyn, and his +seemingly absurd proposal, that Gilder should write a note expressing +his willingness to lend the money. That was the trick of it! Not only +had Arthur got the fifty thousand, but with that letter he had a +complete answer to any charge of fraud. +</p> + +<p> +He sat with clasped hands, every vein on his forehead swollen, and +murder in his heart. Tricked! And she should know. She had been a +party to the fraud—unwittingly, perhaps, but nevertheless a party. +She must have told him of this money.… +</p> + +<p> +Whatever else he was, Fabrian Gilder had the gift of clear thinking. +Five minutes’ riotous fury, and he was his cold self again. Of course +she couldn’t have helped in the fraud. It was the accident of leaving +the safe unlocked, and Arthur Gwyn’s known inquisitiveness—he could +never resist reading even Gilder’s private letters; Arthur had no +sense of other people’s privacy. +</p> + +<p> +What could he do now? He thought the matter out. He must tell the +girl, and perhaps she would regard herself as being under an +obligation to him. If she had any sense of honour she must fulfil her +promise, whatever she had written in her letter that morning. +</p> + +<p> +He telephoned for his car to be brought round from the garage, and +came back to his breakfast table and made an attempt to eat. +</p> + +<p> +He would try Leslie first, telling her nothing about the letter he had +given to her brother, and threaten him with a warrant for fraud. +Perhaps this strengthened rather than weakened his position. He grew +cheerful as the thought took shape. +</p> + +<p> +He passed slowly out of London, for all the streets in the metropolis +seemed to be “up,” and at last struck the open country, avoiding the +main roads and taking a more circuitous route which would bring him to +the main Sussex road between Dorking and Horsham. With a clear road +before him, he sent his car at full speed. He was not well acquainted +with the road, but he knew that he joined the old Roman “street” at a +gentle angle, and he did not slow down as he approached the principal +thoroughfare. +</p> + +<p> +Left of him, on the London side, the road was clear; to the right, the +view was a little obstructed. He sounded his klaxon and came out on to +the main thoroughfare at thirty miles an hour. +</p> + +<p> +He saw the car just in time, jammed on his brakes, and threw the +machine into reverse. The big car ahead of him skidded round; he +caught one malevolent gleam from Dick Alford’s eyes, and then he saw +the bag and, driving to the side of the road, picked it up. His first +inclination was to leave it; he had no particular desire to help the +Second Son; but there are certain innate decencies to be observed by +motorists, even though they loathe each other, and he picked the +little grip from the sidewalk and threw it into the back of his car. +</p> + +<p> +As he did so, it opened, and, turning to fasten it, he saw something +that made him change his mind. Getting out of the car, he lifted the +bag to the sidewalk, opened it wide and pulled out—the sombre habit +and cowl of the Black Abbot! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch52"> +LII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">So Dick Alford</span> was the Black Abbot! It was unbelievable; he could +hardly credit the importance of his find. Here, then, was the greatest +lever of all. Beside this, the threat of a charge against Leslie +Gwyn’s brother faded to unimportance. He snapped the lock, put the bag +carefully back in the car, and, restarting his engine, moved at a +slower pace toward Chelfordbury. +</p> + +<p> +He stopped in the village, where he was recognized, and heard at first +hand from the innkeeper the story of the strange happenings at the +“big house.” +</p> + +<p> +“They do say that something’s happened to the young lady from Willow +House.” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” Gilder almost shouted the word. “You don’t mean Miss Gwyn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Miss Gwyn,” nodded the landlord. “I haven’t got the rights of it +yet, it’s only a rumour down here, but, Lord bless your heart, Mr. +Gilder, there’s never been so many rumours in this village since I +came to live here forty-eight years ago. Some say that his lordship’s +been murdered”—he lowered his voice and looked round—“by his +brother! Mr. Alford is a very hard man, though the people who work for +him have got nothing to say against him, but that doesn’t seem +possible to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder’s mind was in a whirl. He did not want to know anything about +Dick Alford or his reputation. +</p> + +<p> +“Who told you this story about Miss Gwyn?” he asked, and the landlord, +looking round the group that had formed outside the Red Lion, pointed +to a man. +</p> + +<p> +“He’s a carter up at the big house,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +“Fetch him here,” said Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +When the carter arrived: +</p> + +<p> +“What is this story about Miss Gwyn?” Gilder asked. +</p> + +<p> +The man looked a little sheepish to find himself the centre of +interest. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know nowt about it,” he said. “It’s only what I heerd that +monkey-faced gentleman saying to Mr. Richard. He says, ‘I don’t think +any harm’s come to her.’ And one of the maids says that that young +lady who used to be his lordship’s secretary——” +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Wenner? Is she there?” asked Gilder quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she come up last night.” +</p> + +<p> +“What about her?” asked Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +“They say she’s been crying her eyes out all the morning. That’s all I +know about it. They do say something bad happened to the young lady +early this morning, and the way Mr. Richard has been running about and +him looking as ill as death——” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope something’s going to be done about this Black Abbot,” +interjected the innkeeper. “My womenfolk are so frightened they want +to sit up half the night.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder looked at him with a queer expression. +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t be afraid of the Black Abbot,” he said. “I am going to +lay that ghost to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, Mr. Gilder?” said the man, in surprise. +</p> + +<p> +But it was not the occasion for confidences, and Gilder, getting back +into his car, turned it about and went up the road till he came to the +lodge gates. Here a policeman on duty would have barred his progress, +but fortunately he was a local man who knew the lawyer. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Alford’s away, sir. Do you want to see Sergeant Puttler?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the man who has been staying at the hall? What is he—a +policeman?” +</p> + +<p> +“A Scotland Yard man, sir,” said the Sussex policeman, with a certain +pride. “Though I don’t know they’re much better than our own +detectives. You’ll tell him you saw me, will you, and I asked you not +to go to the house unless you had business?” +</p> + +<p> +Evidently these were the policeman’s instructions; Gilder promised +faithfully to supply this exoneration, and continued up the drive. +There was nobody to meet him when he pulled up before the old carved +porch, but he had hardly alighted when a long-armed, queer-faced man +came from nowhere. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning,” said the visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Mr. Gilder,” said Puttler. “Mr. Alford has had to go to +town.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to see Miss Gwyn,” said Gilder, watching the man closely. +</p> + +<p> +If he had expected an experienced detective-sergeant to betray +himself, he was to be disappointed. Puttler did no more than fix him +with his melancholy eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Want to see Miss Gwyn, do you? I’m afraid she’s not at home either.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then perhaps I could see Miss Wenner?” +</p> + +<p> +The sergeant scratched his chin. +</p> + +<p> +“She’s not very well,” he said; “in fact, she’s lying down, and the +doctor says she’s not to be disturbed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there anything wrong with her?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, there’s nothing very much wrong with her. At the same time,” said +Puttler juridically, “there’s nothing very much right with her! It has +rather got on her nerves sleeping in this place, and I can’t very well +blame her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know where Miss Gwyn has gone?” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said truthfully, “I can’t tell you that; she didn’t tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you will answer this question,” said the exasperated man: +“Has anything happened to her?” +</p> + +<p> +“So far as I know,” said the imperturbable officer, “nothing whatever +has happened to her. Are you a friend of hers?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am her fiancé,” said Gilder, on the spur of the moment. +</p> + +<p> +Here he had the satisfaction of seeing that the sergeant was startled. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, of course, you’re the gentleman she isn’t going to marry.” +</p> + +<p> +It was said in all innocence, without any trace of impertinence, but +Mr. Gilder went red and white. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, Mr. Gilder,” the sergeant went on, “I’ve heard quite a lot +about—affairs in this neighbourhood; in fact, I’m an authority upon +all the gossip and scandal for the past twenty years. And I’m very +glad you came, because there are one or two questions I wanted to ask +you. For example, I wanted to know how it came about that you placed +your cottage at the disposal of an ex-convict. Thomas Luck—so +called.” +</p> + +<p> +But here Gilder was ready with his answer. +</p> + +<p> +“I had no idea the man was an ex-convict,” he said. “He told me he had +been discharged from the Manor, and as I wanted a caretaker, and he +offered to come for a very small sum, I employed him. I was terribly +surprised and shocked to hear of his death, but even more shocked to +learn of his character.” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler was politely interested. But if he thought that he was going +to get rid of Gilder so easily, it was because he did not know the +man’s pertinacity. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I must see Miss Wenner before I go,” he said. “At any rate, +I’d be glad if you’d send up my name——” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“It can’t be done, Mr. Gilder,” he said almost cheerfully. “Just now +I’m a combination of the Earl of Chelford and the family doctor. In +other words, I’m in charge during Mr. Alford’s absence. If you care to +wait until he comes back, the drawing-room is at your disposal, but +you understand, Mr. Gilder, that you are not in any circumstances to +question the servants. I am a great admirer of amateur detectives in +my leisure moments, but this is one of my busy days and I can’t afford +to have any interference in this case, however well meant it may be.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder had to accept this invitation. He was determined not to leave +the house until he had learned the truth about Leslie Gwyn. The +detective conducted him to the drawing-room, the long windows of which +were open. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll ask you not to leave here until Mr. Alford arrives,” he said. +“If you require anything, perhaps you will ring?” And, seeing the +light in Gilder’s eyes, he added: “One of my men, who is a first-class +footman, will attend to you.” +</p> + +<p> +He had not long to wait, as it happened. Dick, who had torn up to +town, breaking every speed rule, and so intent upon the object of his +visit that he had forgotten even that he had put the bag in the boot, +was lucky enough to get through with his interview in a quarter of an +hour. It was a very important interview: one on which his own future +very largely depended; and there were too many things to think about +for him to give a thought to the bag and its contents. His car, white +with dust, sped up the drive and came to a halt in the wide space +before the porch. He identified the other car and recognized it as the +machine that had nearly brought about a nasty accident that morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Gilder, is it?” he said, as he got down. +</p> + +<p> +“Gilder it is, and full of interrogation marks. You saw the +secretary?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. He was very kind, but rather vague. He has given me twelve hours +to find Harry, dead or alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did you tell him about Miss Gwyn?” +</p> + +<p> +“He wasn’t even interested,” said Dick, with a hard laugh. “Harry, the +estate, the title—everything except Leslie! That was the burden of +his conversation. In twelve hours I must find him—and believe me, +Puttler, in twelve hours I will!” +</p> + +<p> +He went into the drawing-room and greeted Gilder curtly. +</p> + +<p> +“You wanted to see me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wanted to know what has happened to Leslie Gwyn,” said Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish to God I knew!” said Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The man stared at him. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing bad has happened?” he asked in a low voice, and Dick forgave +him everything for the sincerity of his concern. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid it is something very unpleasant,” he said, and told the +story. +</p> + +<p> +As he did so, he saw the man’s face change and a sceptical smile +curved his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got something to say to you, and I’d like to say it before a +witness, Alford.” +</p> + +<p> +“To me?” said Dick, in surprise, and called over his shoulder to +Puttler, who was passing the door. “Mr. Gilder has something he wants +to say—I presume it’s something of an unpleasant character,” he said. +“Perhaps you had better listen to this, Puttler.” +</p> + +<p> +“Alford has just told me that Miss Gwyn has disappeared, and the +inference is, of course, that the Black Abbot has spirited her away. I +think that is extremely likely, because the Black Abbot has every +interest in holding fast to that young lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sensation,” murmured the detective, but Gilder did not notice the +interruption. +</p> + +<p> +“For some time past there’s been a queer spook haunting this +countryside, an object of terror to Lord Chelford, designed, if +anything, to cover the series of outrages which have recently been +committed. Chelford’s a weakling—you know that, Alford—but weaklings +have children, and once a child is born to Harry Chelford your hope of +succession went like that!” He snapped his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“What are you suggesting?” asked Dick steadily. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m suggesting that you are the Black Abbot!” +</p> + +<p> +Not by so much as a flicker of his eyelid did Dick betray himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I not only suggest it, but I’m prepared to prove it. On your way to +town this morning you nearly collided with my car. As you skidded, +your bag fell out of the dickey. I picked it up, threw it in the car +and found it was open. In that bag was the robe of the Black Abbot, +well worn, often used! Do you deny that?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got to bring proof of this.” It was Puttler who spoke. +</p> + +<p> +“Proof!” cried the other triumphantly. “I’ll give you proof!” +</p> + +<p> +He walked rapidly through the hall to where his car was, the two men +following him. He had left the bag under a rug at the back of the car. +</p> + +<p> +“There is the bag,” he said, as he pulled the rug from its place. “And +here”—he snapped open the bag—— +</p> + +<p> +It was empty! +</p> + +<p> +“And here?” said Puttler encouragingly. +</p> + +<p> +“It was there a few minutes ago: I saw it before I came into the +grounds. Somebody has taken it. You!” he accused Dick. +</p> + +<p> +Dick smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“Sergeant Puttler will testify that I came straight from my car into +your august presence,” he said sarcastically. +</p> + +<p> +“Why don’t you accuse me?” asked Puttler. “I was out here all the +time.” +</p> + +<p> +The baffled man looked from one to the other. It was impossible to +believe that these two were in league. He knew Puttler by name to be +one of the best officers Scotland Yard had ever had. He shrugged his +shoulders and dropped his hands to his sides. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve beaten me, Alford,” he said, “for the time being. But I’m +satisfied the girl is within a mile from this house, and I’m not going +to rest until she is found. Heaven knows why you’ve done it—she’s +fond of you, and there was no need——” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be a fool, Gilder,” said Dick roughly. “If you want to help, +help! But you’re not going to help by thinking that I’ve raised my +hand against Leslie Gwyn. I don’t care whether you’re a friend or +whether you are an enemy, but if you can help us bring her back safely +I will go on my knees to you!” +</p> + +<p> +Dick’s voice was trembling, vibrant; there was a look in his eyes +which not even Gilder, for all his prejudice, could mistake. He held +out his hand and Dick Alford took it with a grip that made him wince. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch53"> +LIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Despite</span> all her gloomy prognostications as to her sleepless night, +the head of Miss Wenner had hardly touched the pillow than her +breathing became regular and even noticeable. Leslie Gwyn smiled to +herself as she turned over and stealthily extinguished the candle. She +had not been lying ten minutes before she realized, from past +experience, that many a weary hour would pass before her eyes closed +in sleep. +</p> + +<p> +She had the alternative of relighting the candle and reading, or +counting myriads of sheep, and the first plan was somewhat hampered in +its achievement by the fact that there was nothing in the room to +read, and she dare not disturb the sentry, because that would probably +wake Mary. So she lay perfectly still, overcoming a mad desire to turn +every few minutes, trying to make her mind an absolute blank. +</p> + +<p> +With so much to occupy her thoughts, with the past twenty-four hours +and all the terrible shocks they had brought, her effort to turn her +mind into a cabbage was a hopeless failure. +</p> + +<p> +She heard a distant village clock striking the half-hours and the +hours and was grateful when one o’clock chimed, for she felt she had +turned the hill of the night and was approaching the blessed day. +There were queer creaks and noises in this old house: strange, +stealthy footsteps that seemed very real; fingers brushing along +wainscotings, queer little chatterings as of laughter. In spite of her +courage, Leslie got up and lit the candle again and felt happier. +</p> + +<p> +She lay on her back, gazing at the ceiling, striving to concentrate +upon one little crack that ran from corner to corner; and it seemed as +though, as she looked, the room went perceptibly darker, and was +filled with a strange unearthly light. +</p> + +<p> +And then she saw behind the door a great steel clothes hook that she +did not remember having seen before; and attached was a cord and a +shapeless something that hung with terrible limpness… a woman! She +opened her eyes wide, almost screamed, but put her hand before her +mouth in time. +</p> + +<p> +She had been dreaming, she realized, and she reached out for her +handkerchief to wipe her damp face. There was no hook behind the +door—nothing. She shivered and turned on her side, looked for the +twentieth time at her watch. Twenty-five minutes past one. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Tap, tap!</i> +</p> + +<p> +That was distinct enough. It came from the room which Mary Wenner was +to have occupied. +</p> + +<p> +A silence, and then the unmistakable sound of gravel being thrown +against a window. Perhaps it was Dick and he wanted to see her. She +slipped out of bed, pulled a dressing gown about her, opened the door +of the dark room and went in. The windows were closed, but as she +entered the room she was startled by a third handful of gravel that +sounded with terrifying distinctness. +</p> + +<p> +With trembling hands she pulled up the catch and pushed the casement +open. A man was standing down below, and for a second she did not +recognize him. And then everything went round; she had to grip the +window ledge for support. +</p> + +<p> +It was Harry Chelford! +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, my dear?” His voice was little above a whisper but +remarkably clear. +</p> + +<p> +She managed to answer: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +She was so dumbfounded that she could not ask one of the thousand +questions which crowded to her lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry! And alive!” +</p> + +<p> +“You are in terrible danger,” he said. “Will you come down? I can get +a ladder.” +</p> + +<p> +Before she could answer he had disappeared, and presently he came +back, carrying a triangular-shaped ladder, and planted it against the +side. The top came within a foot of the window ledge. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t come, Harry; I’m not dressed. Besides, Miss Wenner is here.” +</p> + +<p> +He raised his finger to his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t wake her,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He had a little roll of something in his hand and she noticed that he +was bareheaded. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you dress? I must see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I call Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no.” In his energy he almost raised his voice and looked back +over his shoulder. “That would spoil everything, and it would endanger +his life. Dress quickly, my dear.” +</p> + +<p> +What should she do? Her first instinct was to run to the door and tell +the guard what she had seen; her second was to obey him. His +earnestness and the terror in his voice made her yield to his +suggestion. Quickly she dressed by candlelight, hoping and praying +that Mary Wenner would wake up. Once she knocked against the girl’s +bed, but Miss Wenner slept peacefully, a seraphic smile on her +good-looking face, and the only notice she took of the disturbance was +to murmur, “Dick!” +</p> + +<p> +It needed that ludicrous interlude to restore Leslie’s courage; for +she could not be amused and afraid at the same time. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps Dick was waiting below, she thought, and swinging herself over +the sill, she reached out her foot, found the top rung of the ladder, +and came down. Harry was standing on the grass plot, curiously alert +and watchful. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it, Harry?” she asked in a low voice, but he put his finger +to his lips again and led her, not, as she expected, toward the front +of the house, but by a wide circuit, keeping to the shadow of the +trees, until they went past the rosary and near to the stables. +</p> + +<p> +A dog barked as they passed in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t go any farther, Harry.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must, you must!” His voice was urgent, compelling. “I tell you +that not only my life, but your own is in danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what of Miss Wenner?” She drew back. +</p> + +<p> +“They will not touch her. My mother’s spirit will watch that poor +girl—she died in that room.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie gasped. +</p> + +<p> +“Your mother?” she asked, in an awestricken whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“Come!” He was impatient, caught her by the arm and led her farther +down, until she saw near at hand the gleam of the Ravensrill. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Harry, I can’t go any farther.” She stopped resolutely. “I’m +sure you’re mistaken. Where have you been all this time? Everybody has +been looking for you and Dick has been terribly worried.” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. (It was the laugh that the watchman heard.) +</p> + +<p> +“Dick is worried? That is rich!” +</p> + +<p> +And now, as the challenge of a distant voice came to her, she saw his +face in the moonlight. He was unshaven, unkempt, grimy of face and +hands; he wore no collar, and stood, a collarless man in a long frock +coat with a wild appearance. Slowly she drew back, dread and fear on +her face, and then he clutched her by the wrists. +</p> + +<p> +“If you scream I will throw you into the river and kneel on you until +you are dead,” he whispered in so calm and matter-of-fact a tone that +she could not believe he was serious. +</p> + +<p> +And yet she had an extra sense which told her that he was not only +serious, but that she was in deadly peril. He kept hold of her wrist, +or she would have taken to flight, though she would have little chance +of escaping one who in his school days was a noted sprinter.… She +remembered something else now and felt sick. Harry Chelford had +captained his public school team at Bisley and had carried everything +before him. This pale, anæmic youth was the greatest shot of his +time. The greatest shot! She remembered the bullet that was meant for +her, and he felt her dragging on his hand but said no word. She must +not lose her nerve at this moment of crisis. +</p> + +<p> +They were making for the ruins. Near the edge of the cutting, Puttler +had told her, were stationed two men; they must see her soon. But +Harry went no farther than the broken tower, and here he paused and +pulled the block of stone aside. +</p> + +<p> +Now she knew; they were going down to that dreadful underground cavern +where Dick had taken her. Dick Alford knew his brother was there! She +knew this long before she saw the basket, still filled with food, that +stood at the bottom of the steps. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch54"> +LIV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Harry</span> had lit a candle, and, guided by this, she went down the steep +circular stairway. +</p> + +<p> +“He brought me that, food—the devil!” He pointed his shaking finger +to the basket. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick brought it?” she faltered. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Poisoned,” he said. “But he didn’t catch me. Poisoned every bit of +it!” +</p> + +<p> +He carefully unwrapped a white napkin and showed a dainty pile of +sandwiches, took one and opened it. +</p> + +<p> +“You can see the crystals glittering on the meat,” he said, in so calm +and matter-of-fact a tone that she almost thought she saw something +glitter on the white flesh. +</p> + +<p> +Then he lifted the bottle and looked at it with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“It was too childish. Nobody but a fool would have dreamt I could be +deceived.” He put the bottle and sandwiches back again carefully and +covered them with the napkin that had been over the basket. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” he said, and they went farther into the apartment. +</p> + +<p> +She saw a big gap in the floor and a stone standing straightly up from +the centre. +</p> + +<p> +“I have a lamp below. I prepared this place a very long time ago +against such an emergency. Light and food—and all the water you want. +Will you go first?” +</p> + +<p> +He was very courteous and polite, took her hand to guide her, and held +the light so that she could see the stairs, and came down immediately +after, stopping to swing the stone into place. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you hold the candle?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +She was trembling so violently that her fingers were soon covered with +hot grease, but she did not feel the smart of the boiling wax; her +eyes were fixed upon the man, fascinated. +</p> + +<p> +He was lighting a new storm lantern which burnt, she guessed, paraffin +gas, and it took some time before a brilliant bright light illuminated +the room in which she found herself. It was twice the size of the +apartment above, and neither the walls nor the floor had fallen into +decay. It was almost as new-looking as it had been when the Norman +builders had handed it to the Black Fathers of Chelfordbury. +</p> + +<p> +The first unusual things she saw were two sporting rifles that stood +in a corner of the room. Following her eyes, he smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall not sell my life without a struggle,” he said firmly. +</p> + +<p> +The furniture consisted of a very old refectory table, the top of +which must have been at least four inches in thickness, a long form, +and a high chair that looked like a bishop’s throne. There were no +visible windows, but the ceiling did not quite reach the wall, and +there seemed a space all round the room where air was admitted. +</p> + +<p> +“Excuse me,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +He took the thing he had been carrying, unrolled it, and to her +astonishment, kissed it passionately before he carried it to a +truckle-bed that she had not noticed before and tacked it to a beam +which showed between the stone courses and was in truth the only wood +she had seen in the building. +</p> + +<p> +She looked in amazement, and knew the picture instantly. It was the +head of his mother. +</p> + +<p> +“How lovely!” he sighed. “How wonderful! Do you know, I feel that +nothing matters now, Leslie!” +</p> + +<p> +He smiled at her, and looked at that moment so happy that she could +have cried. +</p> + +<p> +“Richard hated her,” he went on. “He never lost an opportunity of +speaking ill of her. I am told that in my absence he used to bring the +servants into the library and together they would laugh and gibe at +this beautiful martyr.” +</p> + +<p> +“How absurd, Harry! You know Dick would do no such thing,” she said, +stirred to his defence. +</p> + +<p> +But he was not angry, nor did he show any resentment at her +championship. +</p> + +<p> +“You don’t know Dick,” he said simply. “Dick, of course, is the Black +Abbot. I only found it out a week or two ago, when I went into his +room and discovered the costume in a box. He had forgotten to put it +away.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not believe the only truth he had told her so far but she felt +that it would be undiplomatic, to say the least, to argue with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry, I can’t stay here, you know,” she said. “There is only one +room, and I have a weakness for a daily bath——” +</p> + +<p> +He walked across the room and pulled aside a sacking that hid one +corner, and pointed dramatically. +</p> + +<p> +“You will find everything you require here,” he said. “This room is +yours. I shall sleep upstairs, only coming below at the first hint of +danger, either to you or to me. The position calls for courage and +patience, and I know that my wife-to-be has those qualities to +excess.” +</p> + +<p> +He was his old, smiling, genial self. +</p> + +<p> +“By-the-way, there are plenty of books to read—I brought some away +from the house. They were rather heavy and I had to drag them a little +bit, but thank heaven I got just what I wanted.” +</p> + +<p> +She noticed them now for the first time, piled at one end of the +refectory table. He took up a volume and turned the leaves lovingly. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not read German? I think you told me that before. It is a +pity, because this is a very fascinating narrative, told by an +outsider of the Chelfords of the period. You will be pleased to learn +that I have located the treasure. It was not difficult. I knew all the +time that it was behind the second door in the room above.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you known this place for long?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“For six years,” he said. “I found it on the twenty-first anniversary +of my dear mother’s death. I think I ought to say ‘murder,’ for there +is no doubt that my father, who had all the worst qualities of Dick, +killed her—hanged her.” +</p> + +<p> +Her face contorted with horror. +</p> + +<p> +“In that room?” she said, in a strained voice. “Behind the door?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“The thing was hushed up. My clever father was too great a man to be +put on trial for his life and the story was circulated that she had +died by her own hand.” +</p> + +<p> +Every word he said was a lie, as she knew, but he believed it. He +explained quite rationally how the light was worked; showed her the +little wash place with the stream of water running from the raw rock +through a cavity into some invisible deeps; even gave her a short +résumé of the history of the place. It had been built by the Black +Abbot himself for his own especial purpose. +</p> + +<p> +“My first idea was that there was another exit here, or rather an +entrance for those peculiar friends of his, but that I have failed to +discover.” +</p> + +<p> +He took up one of the rifles, shot back the bolt with the air of an +expert, and, going up the steps, unfastened the heavy oaken bar that +kept the stone in place. +</p> + +<p> +The slab pivoted round, and she had a wild idea that when it was +closed she would fasten it; but he was evidently prepared for this, +for she heard him drag a paving-stone to the edge of the hole and +place it so that the trap could not close. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-night, Leslie,” he said, peering down at her through his +spectacles. “You will not mind my light? I want to read a chapter +before I sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +For a quarter of an hour no sound broke the silence. She sat on the +bed, her hands clasped on her knees. And then she heard him move and +her breath came faster, but he had only a question to ask. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me, Leslie, did Thomas leave any relations? I should like to +provide for them. The man annoyed me, but I really do not regret +killing him. But I should not like to feel that his relatives were +suffering through my act of justice.” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know,” she said, and it did not seem to be her voice. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch55"> +LV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It seemed</span> an interminable time before his light went out. Was he +sleeping? Should she attempt to escape past him? From where she sat +she could see his hand, which lay over the edge of the pit, and she +remembered Dick telling her how light a sleeper he was. Systematically +and without moving, she searched the place with her eyes, foot by +foot. In one corner of the room square tins of every shape were piled. +She supposed they were preserved provisions and she wondered how he +got rid of the débris. She examined the wash place, cupped her hands +and drank of the cool, refreshing water, afterward bathing her face. +The touch of the cold spring water refreshed and invigorated her. +</p> + +<p> +How long she sat there motionless, she could not tell. She was in a +kind of coma, paralyzed by a sense of helplessness. It must have been +hours before she heard him move and, his blanket over his arm, and +rifle in hand, he crept down the steps and fastened the slab. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t speak—it is he!” he whispered, and sat down by her side, his +hand on her shoulder. +</p> + +<p> +She heard the sound of footsteps above. +</p> + +<p> +Dick! +</p> + +<p> +She had to bite her lips to prevent the cry that came to her lips. +Harry was watching her—a scream and she would be dead. Dick could +never break open that trap in time, even if he could locate the sound. +Presently the footsteps went away and she felt the hand on her +shoulder relax. +</p> + +<p> +“Sorry to disturb you.” +</p> + +<p> +He picked up blanket and rifle and ascended the steps—she watched him +pull the paving-stone forward and after a while there was quietness. +</p> + +<p> +There must be some exit, if the legend of the disreputable Black Abbot +were true. She took off her shoes and walked noiselessly over the even +floor, examining it stone by stone. The walls were obviously +impenetrable; the vaulted ceiling was decorated with the lines of a +St. Andrew’s Cross that met in a great stone rosette in the centre. +</p> + +<p> +He had left a box of matches and a candle on the table. This she lit +and carried it into the tiny cavern where the water ran. She could see +no roof; she guessed it stretched up the full height of the tower, and +that somewhere above was the edge of the circular staircase that had +brought her down to the first cavern. +</p> + +<p> +Holding the light above her head, she strained her eyes upward and +presently she saw great iron D-shaped projections fixed at intervals +of a foot; they reached to the top, and, most blessed sight of all, +she saw above her head a star. +</p> + +<p> +And yet she was puzzled. The Abbot had a reputation for gallantry, and +it was hardly likely that the visitors who shared his solitude would +make their entrance by so precarious a means. She reached up, but her +hand was three feet from the nearest rung, and there was nothing in +the room on which she could stand. She went back to her bed +noiselessly and pulled out one of the sheets; she took the remaining +rifle and, by dint of great exertion, managed to push one end of the +sheet through the nearest rung. After ten minutes’ work the end came +down and she had a rope. She knotted together the sheets at the end, +and tested her weight. The staple held, and, springing up, she climbed +hand over hand to the lowest rung. Her arms were almost pulled from +their sockets; she was breathless, but she held on, and, reaching up, +caught the third rung and pulled herself up until her feet rested on +the first. She waited a little while to gain breath and began to +climb. Higher and higher, and then her heart sank. Above her, she saw +a steel grille, fixed immovably across the exit. It was impossible +even to put her arm through, the meshes were so small, and with a +bitter sense of disappointment, she descended again and slid down the +sheet to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +There was no escape this way. She unknotted the sheet and replaced it +in her bed, stained with rust and torn at the edges. She brought the +rifle back with her. She was an enthusiastic miniature target shot and +knew the mechanism of the weapon. Pulling out the magazine, she found +it loaded to its full capacity. Here, then, was something; her +confidence grew, though she prayed she might never have to use this +weapon upon the madman who slept so quietly above. The weapon might be +used to terrify him in an emergency. +</p> + +<p> +She went back to the wash place and looked up. Day was breaking, and +she took a sudden resolve. The man had been almost his normal self, as +she had known, and she guessed that this was but an interlude and that +there were periods when she must shoot to save her life. Stealthily +she crept up the stairs, rifle in hand, and she heard him stir, and +presently his shrill voice asked: +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going? Stay where you are, you vixen——” +</p> + +<p> +She brought the butt of the rifle and smashed past the paving-stone +that prevented the trap from closing. The stone thudded down, and +instantly she swung round the heavy bar that kept it in place. She +heard him stamping and screaming above; heard, with a shivering +horror, the threats that, as she thought, no human tongue could frame; +staggering down the steps, she fell. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch56"> +LVI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A high</span> official from Scotland Yard had arrived and was interviewing +Dick in the library. +</p> + +<p> +“I am wholly responsible. I have always known my brother was queer, +and about a year ago I was certain that the horrible taint of madness +which his poor mother transmitted to him was developing in a way which +could only have one end. I begged of him to see a medical man, but he +hated doctors. I brought down the best alienists from London in +various guises, sometimes as bailiffs, and occasionally as prospective +buyers of our property, but in their presence he behaved so rationally +that it was impossible that I could get a certificate. +</p> + +<p> +“My own position was a very delicate one. I am, as you know, the heir +to the property. Any step I took meant that the estate came into my +hands, and that eventually, when poor Harry died, as one doctor told +he must die in a few years, I should be branded with the stigma of +having put him away, and I was anxious to save the family name. My +chief anxiety was that he should never marry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wasn’t it easy enough to take the girl into your confidence?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was silent for a while. +</p> + +<p> +“Not in this case. There were reasons why——” +</p> + +<p> +And the official, dimly understanding, changed the subject. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you were the Black Abbot?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mostly,” confessed Dick. “My brother was terrified of the Abbot and +would never go out if there was a rumour that the Black Abbot was +about. I was especially anxious to keep him in the house, where, under +my eye, there was no chance for him to indulge in these extraordinary +paroxysms that have really alarmed the countryside. The man whom the +villagers feared and whom they call the Black Abbot, is really Harry. +I was a very silent Black Abbot,” he smiled faintly, “and I had no +other purpose than to keep Harry indoors. I’m going to say I did not +always succeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid the truth will have to come out now,” said the official, +shaking his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish it had come out last week,” replied Dick bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think your brother is responsible for the disappearance of +Miss Gwyn?” +</p> + +<p> +“Undoubtedly. He must have attracted her to the window and persuaded +her to come down into the grounds. He was very plausible; no man would +dream that he was not sane, only I, who have seen”—he drew a long +breath—“what I have seen. I’ll tell you this, Colonel,” he said, with +sudden vehemence, “not all the lordship of Chelford, not all the +estates, not even the Chelford treasure, would make me live again my +life of the past five years! There are times,” he said, his voice +trembling with passion, “when I feel I would like to dig up the Abbey +and scatter its stones in the dust, raze this house to the ground, and +turn the place into a public park.” He laughed at his own excess. “I +am talking like an idiot. This place belongs to a family that knows +not Harry. He is just a terrible accident. My dear mother often told +me how worried my father was about Harry, his queer, secretive ways. +And yet in a way he is a sportsman, one of the best shots in England +as a boy, a great runner, and a wonderful fellow over a country, until +about eight years ago, when this treasure bug got into his brain and +he shut himself away from us all and gave his mind and his soul to +this wild chase.” +</p> + +<p> +“The gold?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said. “If it were only the gold, that would have been an +intelligent interest in life.” +</p> + +<p> +He described Harry’s search for the elixir, the famous Life Water of +which the ancient Chelford had written in his diary. +</p> + +<p> +“It is probably no more than a flask of a native wine—Arac or the +like,” said Dick. “Poor Harry!” +</p> + +<p> +Miss Wenner had intended to leave by the early morning train but had +changed her mind. Possibly the arrival of Fabrian Gilder had been a +factor. She had one solution for Leslie’s disappearance. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you searched the Abbey?” she asked, not once but a dozen times. +</p> + +<p> +Dick was weary; the Abbey had been his first thought. He had suspected +this was Harry’s hiding place, and with his own hands had taken a +basket of provisions for him, but this, he saw, was untouched. +</p> + +<p> +There was one possibility about the underground cavern, and that was +the second door, and he had ordered the blacksmith and his assistant +to be at the stone tower at two o’clock that afternoon, with +instruments, one of which had to be procured from London. +</p> + +<p> +The presence of Miss Wenner was not as distasteful to Gilder as he +thought it would have been. To use a phrase of childhood, she was “on +his side.” In very truth, Miss Wenner was on anybody’s side if that +person happened to be agreeable to her. +</p> + +<p> +They were walking through the rosary before lunch, and certainly the +trend of Mary Wenner’s remarks was very comforting to a man who had +been so badly rebuffed. +</p> + +<p> +“If I had my way, Fabrian, dear”—she assumed all the rights and +privileges of an engagement which was somewhat illusory and he made +only a feeble resistance—“if I had my way I’d put you in charge of +this case. After all, you are the very man to solve this mystery and I +must say you could have knocked me down with a feather when you told +me you were fifty—you don’t look a day more than thirty—and you’ve +got experience, you’re a lawyer, you’re up to all kinds of +artfulness——” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to all kinds,” said Gilder with a grim recollection of a certain +blank check. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, to most kinds,” conceded Miss Wenner. “And what are they all +doing? This Dick Alford and this so-called detective? They’re just +standing around, scratching their heads, whilst you could go, as it +were, to the real heart of the mystery. Don’t deny it—I’m sure you +would, Fabe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t call me Fabe, Mary,” he asked gently. “If you want to call me +by my Christian name, let us have all the three syllables.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a man of the world, Fabrian”—she accentuated the word as she +would have done “Mary Ann”—“you understand the ins and outs of +everything. Why don’t they come to you like men and say, ‘Mr. Gilder, +what is your opinion of this mystery?’ Instead of which, they don’t so +much as ask you if you’ve got a mouth!” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps they know that,” said Gilder in good humour. +</p> + +<p> +He lifted his head suddenly, a frown on his face. He had heard a shot; +more than a shot, the whirr and whine of a bullet. +</p> + +<p> +“What——” +</p> + +<p> +Something fell at his feet with a “plop!” He saw a little hole, and, +stooping, dug out a bullet with his fingers. +</p> + +<p> +“Where on earth did that come from?” +</p> + +<p> +He looked up at the sky, but the aëroplane which was later to make an +appearance, and which had nothing to do with this mysterious shooting, +was not yet in sight. +</p> + +<p> +Dick had heard the shot and was running across the lawn. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you——” he began. +</p> + +<p> +<i>Plop!</i> +</p> + +<p> +They heard it again, and presently Dick saw leaves fall from a laurel +bush and heard the thud of an impact. One of the police who were still +patrolling the grounds shouted to him, but he could not hear what he +was saying, and raced across to him. Nearer at hand, he saw that the +man was pointing to the ruins. +</p> + +<p> +“It came from there,” shouted the constable, and Dick changed +direction. +</p> + +<p> +He was flying up the slope when the third shot sounded, and this time +he located it with fair accuracy. Somebody was shooting from the +tower. +</p> + +<p> +Happily, he had made preparations for the blacksmith’s visit, and +there was an assortment of lanterns near the entrance. He stopped long +enough to light one, and, slipping back the catch with his knife, he +pushed aside the stone corner piece and ran down the stairs. The room +was empty. He tried the mystery door; that, too, was closed. Somebody +shouted his name from the landing above and he answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Come down, Gilder. There’s nobody here.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder descended the steps gingerly and looked round with his keen, +shrewd eyes. And then he remembered and pointed to the slab. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you tried that? I meant to tell you before.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, but I rather think that the stone turns on a pivot. If +that is the case, there are pretty stout supports underneath that will +want cutting through.” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder sprawled flat on the floor, his ear to the crack. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing there that is audible,” he said. “Can’t you smell +anything?” +</p> + +<p> +He put his nose to the crack. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a petrol light burning down there, or else it has been +burning recently.” +</p> + +<p> +Flat on his face, Dick sniffed. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” he said, and called: “Leslie!” +</p> + +<p> +There was no answer. He called again, with a like result. +</p> + +<p> +Gilder went up the stairs and searched amongst the tools that had been +brought in readiness for the afternoon’s investigation. He selected +two saws and a second lantern, and, lighting this, he descended to +Dick’s side. +</p> + +<p> +“It is pretty sure to be an oaken support; these old builders seldom +used iron,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +Throwing off his coat, he rolled up his sleeves. The thin blade of the +saw worked down between the stones and after a while he began sawing +gingerly. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s wood,” he said. “You’ll find yours is the same.” +</p> + +<p> +They both worked at one end, for, as he pointed out, there would only +be one bar, the other end of the stone being bevelled to meet the edge +of the floor. The wood was like rock, and both men were hot before +they had half-sawn through the support. Presently Dick drew out his +saw. He had gone through the oak and had heard the loose end fall +below. A few seconds later, Gilder’s saw passed through the last +obstruction. Gingerly he put his foot on the edge and pressed down, +and the stone trap swung open. +</p> + +<p> +They looked down into a dark vault; and now the smell of the burning +lamp was very pungent. Dick lowered the lantern and peered down. He +could see no sign of human life. He caught a view of the end of a bed, +a table, and, on the floor, a rifle. He reached the bottom and, +swinging his lantern round, called: +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie!” +</p> + +<p> +A mocking echo came back to him from the little cavern at the far end +of the apartment. The place was empty; the man and woman who, five +minutes before, had fought in a death struggle, had disappeared. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch57"> +LVII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Leslie</span>!” +</p> + +<p> +He called again, his voice hoarse with anxiety. He had seen two little +shoes by the side of the bed. Her hat was on the floor, crushed into a +shapeless mass. Picking up the rifle, he felt the barrel; it was still +warm, and under the tower there were four empty cartridge cases. And +then, holding his lantern high, he saw the rungs in the rough face of +the wall, and jumped to the conclusion that she had escaped that way. +Within a minute he leapt up, caught the lower rung and ran up the +ladder to the top, oblivious of one or two ominous cracks as his man +weight came upon the old ironwork. The grille at the top stopped him. +He had seen it, but thought it might be movable. +</p> + +<p> +“They couldn’t have gone that way,” he said breathlessly as he came +down to the ground. +</p> + +<p> +Gilder rubbed his gray hair. +</p> + +<p> +“Then where on earth have they gone?” he asked irritably. +</p> + +<p> +They searched every inch of the long room, pulled the bed from the +wall, but beneath was solid stone pavement. The table seemed fastened +to the floor; they could not move it. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you notice anything about this floor?” Gilder asked suddenly. “It +is not level.” +</p> + +<p> +And when Dick looked, he saw this was true. The floor sloped gradually +down from the wash cavern to the wall behind the steps. Gilder went in +search of a hammer, and the two, now reinforced by Puttler and the +Scotland Yard man, went over every inch of the wall and flooring, +tapping and sounding. They struck no hollow place. The four men took +hold of the side of the table and tried to drag it from its +foundations, but they might as well have tried to move the wall +itself. It had a thick oaken base, from which ran three pillars +supporting the enormously heavy top. +</p> + +<p> +It was very clear to Dick what had happened. The girl had been +attacked, and, having discovered this opening to the sky, had procured +a rifle by some means and had fired up the shaft to attract attention. +Then she had been overcome and—what? +</p> + +<p> +The water ran down through a crevice in the solid rock about six or +eight inches wide. It was impossible that any human being could have +gone down that narrow slit, but, to make sure, he had the edges of the +water-worn rock broken away. The blacksmith by this time was waiting +above. Dick had him brought down with his tools; the second door might +yield some sort of solution. +</p> + +<p> +For half an hour they worked with jacks and levers, and presently, +with a deafening crack, the lock parted and the door was pushed open. +There was revealed a room similar in shape and size to that which Mary +Wenner had discovered; with this exception, that there were no stone +benches, and in the centre of the apartment was a circular hole. Dick +knelt by the side and held down his lantern; he heard the faint “clug” +of water, and saw the light reflected at a considerable depth. +</p> + +<p> +“A well,” he said. “All these old places have an interior well. +There’s one in the Tower of London, in the centre of the dungeon.” +</p> + +<p> +This room had been used as a prison at a distant period. At intervals +along the walls hung rusted chains, with leg-irons attached. In one +corner he saw a heap of rags, glimpsed a milk-white bone, and +shuddered. What was the history of this poor wretch who had been shut +away from the light of God’s sunshine, to die miserably in this dark +and dreadful place? +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there’s nothing there,” said Gilder, peering over. +</p> + +<p> +Dick tied his lantern to the end of a cord and let it slowly down to +the depths. Thirty feet below, as near as he could judge, the bottom +of the lantern touched water. The old builders had builded splendidly. +The green, weed-grown sides of the well seemed intact. And then his +heart almost stood still. A hand was thrust out, seemingly from the +solid brickwork of the well; a white hand on which flashed and +sparkled a single diamond that he knew well. And from below he heard a +muffled voice and in his agitation the cord which held out the lantern +slipped from his hand into the water. +</p> + +<p> +He cursed aloud in his rage at his own criminal carelessness. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the other lantern!” he called and pulling the other hand over +hand, he untied it and flung it aside, fastening in its place the +lighted storm lamp that Puttler handed to him. “And get a +rope—quickly!” +</p> + +<p> +But there was no rope nearer than Fossaway Manor, and he fumed in his +impatience and would have made an attempt to slip down the treacherous +sides of the well if Puttler had not restrained him. +</p> + +<p> +After an eternity one of the detectives came running back carrying a +rope and, dropping the free end, they fastened the other to a crowbar +and placed this across the open doorway. Dick slipped down the rope, +the handle of the lantern between his teeth. The sides were wet and +slimy and presently he came to the place where he had seen the girl’s +hand. +</p> + +<p> +It was a small air hole about six inches by four. He tried to look +through with the aid of his lamp, but he could see nothing but a rough +rock wall. He called the girl by name, but no answer came and the word +“Leslie” came echoing back from the interior. +</p> + +<p> +And now he saw that these little apertures occurred at regular +intervals. The first two were hidden by overhanging water weeds, but +from below they were visible. Some sort of natural stone gallery +existed on the other side of this stonework, and he remembered having +heard at some remote period that the Abbey had been built upon an +early English catacomb. In all probability each of those apertures +represented a distinct “landing” or a place where some natural winding +staircase touched the wall in its revolutions. +</p> + +<p> +He had made a rough loop for his foot, and they passed him down a +crowbar at the end of a cord. With this he attacked the hole in the +wall, but found himself engaged in an impossible task. Nothing short +of an explosive could blow these holes larger. He was almost exhausted +by his efforts, and they had to haul him to the top for a rest. +Puttler was anxious to go down, but Dick insisted upon being lowered +again. This time he took with him a rod, to the end of which a small +electric bulb had been attached. The flex ran along the rod, which was +a bamboo cane, and terminated in a small battery in his pocket. He +switched on the light and pushed the bulb through the opening. He +could see now that the wall, which he thought was natural rock, had +been roughly hewn, but he could not see the floor nor more than a foot +in either direction. Withdrawing the rod, he put in his hand and felt +around, but could touch nothing but the outer facing of the well. +</p> + +<p> +“Look out!” +</p> + +<p> +The warning shout was Gilder’s and came from above. He drew out his +hand quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“Away from the wall—push with your feet!” yelled Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +He had a glimpse of a grimy hand thrust out from one of the square air +holes, saw the flicker of steel and felt the rope giving as strand +after strand was slashed. Then, with a crack, the rope parted, and he +went down, down, until the bitterly cold waters engulfed him. +</p> + +<p> +He struck the bottom with his feet and paddled up to the surface +again. He was instantly chilled to the marrow. He saw the lantern come +down toward him, and heard Gilder say: +</p> + +<p> +“Hold to the cord just enough to keep you afloat.” +</p> + +<p> +Dumbly he obeyed. His eyes were fixed on the airhole. So, too, were +the eyes of Puttler, who, flat on the ground, his head and shoulders +over the edge, covered with his revolver the place where the hand had +emerged. +</p> + +<p> +The cut end of the rope was passed down to him. By reaching up he +could just grip it, but not sufficiently to obtain a sure purchase. +Cramp had attacked his legs. The paralyzing coldness of the water was +astounding, and in one moment of fear it seemed that his life was to +end miserably in this dark hole. There was no foothold on either side, +and unless help came quickly he knew he could no longer keep his +senses. +</p> + +<p> +Almost within reach was the lowest of the small apertures, but it did +not seem worth while to reach for that. The cord of the lantern served +to keep him afloat, the warmth of the burning wick was the only +comfort he had. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick!” He heard his name whispered with a fierce intensity. “Dick, +take my hand!” +</p> + +<p> +It came out of the lower air hole, and with an effort he reached and +found his wrist gripped. And then his senses left him. +</p> + +<p> +When he came to himself he was lying in the open air. The warmth of +the sun’s rays made him sleepy. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Leslie?” he asked, struggling up on his elbow. +</p> + +<p> +They looked at him blankly, thinking that he was in a delirium. +</p> + +<p> +“How did I get out?” +</p> + +<p> +“Gilder went down for you when he saw you drop.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Leslie caught me by the wrist,” he said wildly. “She was +there—didn’t you see her, Puttler?” +</p> + +<p> +Puttler shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw you holding on to the side just as the new rope came, and +Gilder went down for you.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick was ghastly. +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t see her? You didn’t hear her?” +</p> + +<p> +Struggling to his feet, he passed his hand wearily across his +forehead. Had he been dreaming? Was that part of the delirium of the +death that nearly overtook him? But he was sure, as positive as of any +human experience he had had. Leslie’s hand had come out from the wall +and caught him by the wrist. He had seen the diamond scintillate in +the light of the lantern and then he could remember nothing more. But +it had been Leslie. He could still feel the pressure of her fingers +about his wrist. He had not been dreaming. Somewhere in the deeps of +the earth was the woman he loved, and he was helpless to save her. He +covered his face with his hands and for a while his shoulders heaved. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch58"> +LVIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Leslie</span> had no doubt that the wooden bar would hold. She could afford +to sit, covering her ears to shut out the hideous noise above, until +his paroxysm had subsided. It must have been in such a mad fury as +this, after the killing of Thomas, that he had wreaked destruction +upon his room before, in a sudden fit of panic, he had got out of the +window and, taking his books from the library (she saw the torn and +soiled pillow case in which he had packed them) had escaped to this +lair of his. She took her hand from her ears; he was moaning +dreadfully, but somehow she could endure that. Fortunately, she had +put on her wrist-watch when she dressed, and this marked the passage +of the hours. Noon came, there would be people about the estate now, +though it was not likely that Dick would come again to the ruins +unless he was attracted there. +</p> + +<p> +The plan she had made she now proceeded to put into execution. +Standing under the shaft, she fired a round into the air. The third +shot struck the iron grille and ricochetted with an angry buzz that +sounded like the drone of a bee. No sound came from the room above. If +she could only attract Dick to the ruins, she could indicate her +position. But Harry had a rifle! She went cold at the thought. She may +have lured him to his death. +</p> + +<p> +For one mad moment she thought of opening the trap and forcing her way +out at the point of the rifle. But it was too late now. And then she +heard his voice, sounding hollowly and faintly. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie!” +</p> + +<p> +She went up one of the steps so that she could hear him better. +</p> + +<p> +“They’re coming, Leslie. You will tell them I haven’t hurt you, won’t +you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” she replied eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +He said nothing after that, until there came a shuffling and stamping +of feet above her head, and then she heard him say: +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo, Dick, old man! I hope I haven’t given you any trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +From below she heard a deep rumble of sound which might have been a +voice, but in her eagerness she was tugging at the oaken support, and +in another second the stone fell behind her and she scrambled up +through the trap. She could see nothing; the place was in darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick!” she called. +</p> + +<p> +And then a hand gripped her, and she realized with horror that all the +shufflings of feet and the conversation had been so much acting on his +part. +</p> + +<p> +She was still holding the rifle, but before she could raise it he had +gripped the stock and wrenched it from her hand. She heard it fall +with a clatter on the stone floor below. +</p> + +<p> +Half swooning in her fear and terror, her struggles grew weaker. He +was holding her in his arms and his strength was surprising. +</p> + +<p> +“We are going below, my sweet,” he whispered in her ear. “At last I +know the truth! So it was Dick you wanted! Dear Dick!” +</p> + +<p> +He was chuckling softly to himself as he carried her to the top of the +steps. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you walk down, or must I throw you?” he asked, in a tone so even +and rational that he might have been uttering some commonplace of +everyday life. +</p> + +<p> +With trembling knees she walked down the steps into the lighted room, +and he followed, pausing to close the trap and secure it firmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down.” He pointed to the settle by the table and immediately she +sat down. Her face was ghastly; her last reserves of courage were +almost sapped. “You have hurt me beyond forgiveness, Leslie,” he said, +his solemn eyes fixed on hers. “Do you realize what you have done? You +have treated with contempt Harry Alford, Eighteenth Earl of Chelford, +Viscount of Carberry, Baron Alford.…” +</p> + +<p> +With the solemnity of a child reciting a lesson he repeated the titles +he held, even to a remote barony of Aquitaine which the Chelfords had +held in the dim past. She had a queer feeling that she was standing +before a judge, listening to an indictment of some hideous crime she +had committed. +</p> + +<p> +“You have attempted to endanger my life; you have conspired with those +who hate me; you have treacherously held communication with and given +comfort to my enemies.…” +</p> + +<p> +There were other charges, that would have sounded ludicrous at other +times, would have aroused her to fury, but she listened now, +husbanding all her strength for the coming struggle. +</p> + +<p> +His rifle leant against the steps, but he barred her way effectively. +Looking round for some weapon, she saw nothing but the lamp and that +was too heavy for use. +</p> + +<p> +“For you,” he said, in tones of deepest gravity, “there can be only +one punishment—death!” +</p> + +<p> +His voice trembled. She felt that, in his queer, crazy way, he was +sorry for her, and regretted the necessity. She tried to rise, but her +limbs refused her office. She put out an appealing hand, and then, +with a sudden leap, he was on her. His hand closed about her throat +strangling the scream. And then, up above, there was the unmistakable +sound of footsteps and a deep voice. It was Dick. She tried to call +out, but he held her tight. With one hand he reached over and +extinguished the lamp; and now, in a final desperation of fear, she +threw him backward and for a second he released his hold. +</p> + +<p> +But before her tortured throat could utter a sound he was at her +again; pressing her back against the edge of the table. She tore at +his hand, but it was immovable.… This was death! A loud ringing in her +ears, a fiery light before her eyes; she was losing consciousness… and +then she felt the table move, at first slowly and then so rapidly that +she lost her balance. The big refectory table was sliding lengthways +toward the end wall. His grip relaxed and in that instant he dropped +away from her, and, reaching out her hand, she could feel nothing. She +heard a thud and a groan and stepped forward—into space. She did not +see the yawning cavern before her. One desperate effort she made to +recover her balance, caught at the hard edge of the floor as she fell, +and went slipping and sliding down stairs that cracked and broke +beneath her, until her feet struck something soft and yielding. +Overhead there was a deep rumbling sound, a soft thud, and silence. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch59"> +LIX +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Harry</span> was unconscious. She felt his face and her fingers touched +something warm and wet. +</p> + +<p> +She could see nothing; the darkness was impenetrable. No sound came +from the room from which she had fallen. The floor was thick, the +heavy oaken base of the refectory table gliding, she guessed on +rollers that worked as truly as they had when, hundreds of years +before, the Black Abbot found this exit so valuable, had slipped back +into its place. If she only had some sort of light! It occurred to her +to search the unfortunate Harry. Presently she found a silver box +containing matches. She struck one and looked around. They were lying +at the foot of what had once been a wooden stair. The treads were +broken, the heavily carved handrail had rotted, leaving two wide gaps. +Half the treads had vanished, the other half were now broken by her +fall. +</p> + +<p> +Harry was lying in a recess carved from the solid rock, and left and +right ran a narrow passage streaming with water. She left the alcove +and struck another match. The passage curved and twisted so that only +a few feet in either direction was visible. Pools of still water +filled the hollows of the floor; long bunches of gray fungus, +grape-like in its formation, hung from the roof. Yet the air was sweet +enough. She felt a gentle draught coming from the left-hand passage, +but as yet she could not explore and she returned to Harry. +</p> + +<p> +His eyes were closed, his lips bloodless, and through the grime his +face was gray. With a gasp of horror she thought he was dead, but when +she put her hand under his waistcoat she could feel the faint flutter +of his heart. He had an electric torch somewhere in his pocket, he had +told her, and she began to search. It necessitated moving him slightly +and as she did so he groaned. The lamp was in the tail pocket of his +frock-coat, a square, flat lamp, of a type usually to be found in +every room of Fossaway Manor. +</p> + +<p> +She thought at first that the unconscious man carried two, but found +that the second package was a spare battery. Switching on the light, +she examined the roof above the broken stairs. She saw it was the +underside of a slab of wood. From here she could see the rollers on +which the table ran; stout things of wood. Near the head of the stairs +two large wooden grips projected downward, rather like the butts of +huge Browning pistols, and she guessed that by this means the table +was drawn back from below. +</p> + +<p> +When she looked at Harry again he was staring upward with wondering +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“What happened?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“We must have fallen through a trap,” she said. “Do you think you +could reach those handles?” She pointed to them. +</p> + +<p> +He rose unsteadily to his feet, replaced his spectacles which had been +knocked off in his fall, and looked at the butts. Only two of the +treads remained intact. He tried one, but it broke under his feet and +the supporting posts were sagging. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t reach that,” he said. “It must be twelve feet high.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she noticed his wound and made him sit down while she dressed it +with a strip of silk torn from her skirt. +</p> + +<p> +“How on earth did we get into this beastly place?” he asked, +wondering. “Where are we?” +</p> + +<p> +“We’re under the Abbey,” she said, and his frown ended in a grimace of +pain. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Dick?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He is up there, I think,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +And yet why should Dick be there? He would not know his way into the +lower chamber, she thought, with a sinking heart. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think you can walk?” +</p> + +<p> +He looked round in dismay. +</p> + +<p> +“I can walk all right, but whither?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let us try the left-hand passage first,” she suggested, and he was +agreeable. +</p> + +<p> +The left-hand passage, they found, was a steep ascent which turned +continuously to the left. It was like one of those corkscrew tunnels +through which she had travelled in Switzerland, where the train +burrows its way upward in the heart of the solid rock. Was it above +Montreux or on Pilatus? She was too tired to think. +</p> + +<p> +At the first turn she stopped. She had seen a glimmer of light, and, +making an inspection, she found a square hole, cut apparently in the +rock; the further end was covered with hanging weeds, and through +these she saw the light distinctly, a faint yellow glow. They +continued their climb, and presently came to another small opening. +Here, then, was one of the sources of air supply, though little came +this way, for when she lit a match before it the flame scarcely +wavered. +</p> + +<p> +“How much farther are we going?” asked Harry faintly. “I’m nearly all +in.” +</p> + +<p> +“We must go on,” she said. “This probably brings us to the open air +somewhere.” +</p> + +<p> +He put his hand on her shoulder, and, walking slowly, they made +another complete turn of the winding passage, and this time they found +an air hole that was not weed-covered. The light was stronger now, +and, looking through, she thought she saw a swaying cord. And she +heard something, too—voices. It was not an illusion; somebody was +talking at an immense distance away, it seemed. She looked again. The +cord seemed very near, but when she thrust her hand through the +opening and tried to grasp it, she knew that she had been the victim +of an optical illusion. She called out but there was no answer. She +must have imagined the voices. +</p> + +<p> +And then she heard a faint shout and the yellow light which had shone +through the entrance went out. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t go any farther.” Harry collapsed against the wall and slid +down into a sitting position, his head on his breast. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you mind if I leave you in the dark?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head wearily, and, leaving him, she continued the climb, +and presently found herself in a straight, narrow passage. At some +period an attempt had been made to dress the sides with stone slabs. +The wall was littered with crumbling fragments of stone, and gaps +showed where age and the action of the damp had detached the dressing +from the walls. As near as she could judge, she was moving away from +the Abbey in the direction of Fossaway Manor. +</p> + +<p> +This latter was a guess. It was impossible that it could lead toward +the cut road to the north of the estate. Then the explanation came to +her: she was passing under the Mound, the high bank that fringed the +Ravensrill. What light feet had trodden this way, she wondered? What +fears or hopes, desire or despair, had sped along this rough stone +floor? Unconsciously she was reconstructing an ancient cause and +effect. The effect brought her to a standstill. Right across the +passage a wall had been built; a solid barrier of masonry which +checked all further movement. +</p> + +<p> +Though she did not know and could not guess, here was the obstacle +that the revengeful Lord of Chelford had set up after his assassin had +gone forth to slay the man who had dishonoured him. No more would the +light steps of frail womanhood trip along this secret passage, and +since Yvonne of Chelford had died of a broken heart no woman’s foot +had stirred this dust. +</p> + +<p> +Leslie turned back, her courage failing. Approaching the spot where +she had left Harry, she heard his soft chuckle and her skin crept. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie. Leslie!” he whispered eagerly. “You have no idea what a bit +of good luck I’ve had!” +</p> + +<p> +And when he came into the light of her lamp, he was his old exalted +self. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you think happened?” +</p> + +<p> +She was conscious now of voices. She heard somebody shout and a faint +answer, but faint as it was, she recognized the voice. It was Dick’s. +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened?” she asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +He doubled up with silent laughter and could not speak for a minute, +and then he showed her a knife. +</p> + +<p> +“With that,” he said complacently. “I saw him go down… and then the +rope came near… I could have touched it. Then I remembered I had my +knife and I reached through and before they could pull it away I’d cut +it.” +</p> + +<p> +She gazed at him in horror. +</p> + +<p> +“Was somebody on the rope?” she gasped. +</p> + +<p> +He nodded gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“The arch-enemy of the human race,” he said in a sober tone. “Richard +Alford.” +</p> + +<p> +Petrified with terror, she put her ear to the hole and heard Dick +speaking. Then without a word she fled down the slope. Round and round +the circular passage she went until she was almost dizzy. Presently +she reached the lower air hole, put through her hand and tore away the +veiling weeds. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, Dick!” she called. +</p> + +<p> +She could see him now, for the air hole was just above water level. +His face was gray and drawn. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick!” +</p> + +<p> +She thrust out her hand and presently closed about his ice-cold wrist, +and at that moment Harry’s hand fell on her shoulder and she was +dragged backward. She felt the wrist slip, she heard the splash of +water as Dick Alford fell, and fainted. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch60"> +LX +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">She</span> woke and it was so dark she could not believe her eyes were open +until she felt the lids. There was no sound. She was lying on the +hard, uneven floor where she had fallen, she thought, but when she put +out her hand to feel for the air hole, her fingers touched rough rock. +Groping round for the flash lamp, she found nothing. Presently, +however, she touched a smooth, cold surface. It was Harry’s knife, a +long-bladed clasp knife. +</p> + +<p> +And then she remembered clearly. Dick was in the water, drowning. She +struggled to her feet, trembling in every limb. +</p> + +<p> +Dead perhaps.… She staggered blindly forward and came in contact with +the wall. Gripping her hands till the nails cut the palm, she strove +to regain her self-control. He would be rescued; there were men with +him, she told herself, and became calmer and again sat down, so her +back was to the wall, and waited, the open knife on her lap. Feeling +in her pocket for a handkerchief, her hand touched the matchbox, and +she took it out with a sense of gratitude. +</p> + +<p> +She was weary to the point of exhaustion. The rough flooring had +slashed the soles of her silk stockings to ribbons and her feet were +terribly sore. She waited for some time before she struck her first +match, for the box was already half empty. She saw that she was in a +part of this underground system which was unfamiliar to her. The roof +was higher; the walls bulged in like the sides of an hourglass, and +the floor had been roughly paved. At intervals there seemed to be +niches, alcoves in the wall, and again she thought of the Swiss +tunnels with their safety niches. There was no sign of the lamp; +evidently Harry had carried that with him when he had gone off. It was +not like him to leave her; even in his delirium he would not have done +that, she thought. +</p> + +<p> +As the match burnt out she heard halting footsteps re-echoing down the +passage, and, closing the knife, she slipped it into her jacket pocket +and waited. He must have been a long way from her when she first heard +him; the passage acting as a huge speaking-tube. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you all right, Leslie?” He was normal again. “I’m sorry I had to +leave you, but this place rather rattles me, and I had to go along and +see if I could find an exit.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where are we?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I carried you down that wretched circular arrangement +and you were fearfully heavy,” he added, so naïvely that the girl +laughed for the first time in that period of horror. “Do you know, +Leslie,” he squatted down on the floor by her side—“I have an idea. +Do you remember those holes we looked through?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember them,” she said, wondering what was coming next. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know that they are placed in the side of a well of some kind?” +</p> + +<p> +Not a word about Dick. He had forgotten the rope cutting and the +horror that followed. +</p> + +<p> +“Has it occurred to you,” he went on, “that the treasure may be at the +bottom of that well? It only struck me a few minutes ago. If we could +get out and have a talk with Dick, he’s such an ingenious devil that +I’m sure he would find the opening of the well, which may be inside +the old Abbey itself. Most of these mediæval buildings have a well in +the centre and kept their water supply enclosed.” +</p> + +<p> +“You didn’t find an exit?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said. “I got into a sort of labyrinth and I thought I should +never get out again. Good heavens! Look at your feet!” +</p> + +<p> +They were indeed in a sorry plight, swollen and bleeding. In an +instant he had pulled off his own shoes. +</p> + +<p> +“Put them on,” he said authoritatively, and when she demurred, he +seized her foot and slipped her toes into the shoe. “I was a great +runner in my day,” he said, with a hint of pride, “and barefooted +running was my specialty—to use a horrible theatrical word.” +</p> + +<p> +The shoes were much too big for her, but the comfort of them after +walking barefooted on that rough floor! +</p> + +<p> +“There’s one place I haven’t explored, and that is the little side +passage to the left. There has been some sort of a fall there and the +rock looks rotten. I don’t like to attempt an exploration. By the way, +what made you faint?” he asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know—nerves, I suppose,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +It was useless and even dangerous to tell him of what had happened by +the wall of the well. +</p> + +<p> +“I thought it might be that,” he said. “If you feel fitter now we’ll +go along.” +</p> + +<p> +He walked ahead, switching his lamp on and off at intervals. He wanted +to save his batteries, he told her, which had shown signs of running +down. All the time he kept up an incessant chatter. He had plans about +the future of the Abbey and grew enthusiastic when he expounded his +scheme. +</p> + +<p> +“This is not even a Saxon-English burrow, but probably goes back to +the days of the original inhabitants of Britain,” he said. “We are +walking in paths that were originally cut by cavemen. Doesn’t that +thrill you, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Terribly,” she said, with unconscious irony. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll have the place wired and lit; it will be necessary to increase +the electric supply, but Dick will see to that. I may present it to +the nation or to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners—I’m not certain +which. There is no doubt from an archæological point of view.…” +</p> + +<p> +So he talked on and she followed him, sometimes listening, sometimes +her mind occupied with the agony of thought. Was Dick safe? She was +sure that he was not alone; there were men at the top of the well and +they would save him. It was not possible that Dick Alford should die +in that dark place, that his splendid life should be ended so +tragically. The walking was tiring, for they were climbing all the +time. +</p> + +<p> +They must have covered about a quarter of a mile when he stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is the side passage,” he said, and warned her: “Don’t go into +it; the stones are still falling.” +</p> + +<p> +He put his light into the hole—it was no more—and she saw a great +heap of fallen rock in the middle of the path. There was just room +between the top of the heap and the roof to crawl through. But what +she noticed instantly was the strong current of air that fanned her +cheeks when she stopped to look through the aperture. +</p> + +<p> +“This must be the way, Harry,” she said instantly. “Can’t you feel the +air?” +</p> + +<p> +“I noticed that,” he agreed, but was reluctant to enter this +unpromising byway. +</p> + +<p> +“We must go, Harry. There’s no other way out,” she said. “We are +getting farther and farther down, away from the Abbey, and, as you +say, beyond here is only a labyrinth that brings you back to the place +from where you started.” +</p> + +<p> +“All right,” he agreed, with evident distaste. “I had better go +first.” +</p> + +<p> +He crawled gingerly over the pile of stones and slid down on the other +side. +</p> + +<p> +She heard his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“It is all right here,” he said, and then the light of his lamp showed +and she followed him. +</p> + +<p> +The passage was very high; it was a natural fissure in the rock. Yet +the hand of man must have been here, for the floor had been levelled, +and there was evidence of animal life. A long black shape scudded +across the path and disappeared through a hole. The girl gave a little +scream and shrank back. +</p> + +<p> +“It is only a weasel,” said Harry calmly. “Where a weasel can get, we +can get.” +</p> + +<p> +The passage had widened and now the work of man became evident. They +were in a square chamber with two entrances on either side. The roof +was of vaulted stone that seemed to bulge downward as if it supported +a weight beyond its capacity, but this was hidden by the long +stalactites that flashed in the light of the lantern. And she +shivered. It was extraordinarily cold, almost as if they had come into +an ice house. +</p> + +<p> +“No door. I wonder what the idea of this place was.” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first man-made chamber they had seen. The walls were +running with water; wet and shining; the roof dripped incessantly, but +only one small pool of water gathered on the floor; the rest ran off +in a central chamber and apparently into the solid rock. +</p> + +<p> +“The dripping of water wears away stone,” quoted Harry, and pointed to +the floor with its tiny saucer-shaped depression. +</p> + +<p> +There was no sign of door at either entrance and he went ahead of her +through the farther entrance, covered a few yards, and stopped, +looking upward. +</p> + +<p> +“Daylight!” he said. +</p> + +<p> +The first thing of which she was conscious was that, away from the +little room, she was warm again. +</p> + +<p> +The shaft that worked upward was a natural fissure. They could see the +rough edges of rock jutting out at intervals. In some places it was +wide enough to hold a full-sized man; in other places it was so narrow +that only an arm could have reached through. But there it was, the +clear, uninterrupted view of the sky, and the girl beheld a phenomenon +with which miners are familiar, the view of a white, winking star in +broad daylight. +</p> + +<p> +“That is where the air comes from,” said Harry. “Now we’ll try where +this passage leads.” +</p> + +<p> +It led to a blank wall of solid rock, he found. They stared at each +other in the darkness. +</p> + +<p> +“We must try back,” said Harry. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly were the words out of his mouth than there was a distant rumble +and roar, the ground beneath their feet shook, and down the passageway +through which they had reached the Cold Room swept a cloud of flying +dust. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait,” he said, and flew along the passage. +</p> + +<p> +He was gone a few minutes before he returned. She could not see his +face except from the reflected light he threw upon the floor to guide +him on his way. +</p> + +<p> +“The roof has fallen in,” he said, and there was a tremor in his +voice. “I am afraid, Leslie, we are finished!” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch61"> +LXI +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A hot</span> bath and a meal, though every morsel seemed to choke him, +restored Dick Alford to something like himself. There was hope—faint +indeed, but still hope. He had despatched his bailiff in search of +explosives, but explosives cannot be bought over the counter like +cheese and bacon. He had a telephone message from the man to say that +he was on his way to London and would return with the necessary +apparatus. Dick’s plan was simple; even then a derrick was being +rigged over the well; his plan was to dynamite the wall of the well +and to get into the gallery. +</p> + +<p> +“For a long time I’ve been suspicious that the rock on which the Abbey +was built was honey-combed with passages. My father told me something +about it and I’ve seen an old plan that shows an elaborate system of +corridors, though the family has always thought this was largely +imaginative on the part of the artist.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you the plan now?” asked Gilder. +</p> + +<p> +Dick shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry took everything of that nature away with him the night he left +the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not amongst the books you found in the underground room?” said +Puttler, and a search was made of the library, but without success. +</p> + +<p> +They were on their way to the ruins when Puttler saw the aëroplane in +the sky. It circled twice and then began to dip steeply. +</p> + +<p> +“I believe that fellow is coming here,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +And so it proved. The machine roared its progress for a hundred yards +or more, and then dropped. Presently they saw a man get down. Though +he wore an airman’s helmet, Dick recognized him. It was Arthur Gwyn. +</p> + +<p> +He met Gilder’s scowl with a little laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got some money of yours, Gilder,” he said, and dragged with some +difficulty a huge packet from the pocket of his leather coat. “That is +more or less the amount I owe you, unless the franc has depreciated in +value since I left Paris. And now you can do your damnedest!” +</p> + +<p> +Gilder took the packet without a word and Arthur turned to Dick +Alford. +</p> + +<p> +“I read about Leslie in the French papers,” he said simply, “and so I +came back. Has she been found?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any idea where she is?” +</p> + +<p> +Dick told him all that had happened that afternoon and Arthur Gwyn +listened in silence. When Dick came to speak of his plan, he shook his +head. +</p> + +<p> +“I had my early training as an engineer before I went into the law,” +he said surprisingly, “and I tell you, from my elementary knowledge of +the science, that you’re likely to blow in the whole well, and if +there’s anybody on the other side, God help them!” +</p> + +<p> +He accompanied them to the lower room and was swung down on the +derrick to make an inspection. When he returned to the surface his +report was not very promising. +</p> + +<p> +“So far as I can see,” he said, “whilst you may enlarge the opening of +any of these air holes, you may also bring about a fall of the rock +inside. You’re dealing with surfaces which have been exposed to the +chemical action of the air.” +</p> + +<p> +He went down and made an inspection of the lower room, which was new +to him, and, as they had done, tried to pull the table aside. And then +he did what they had not attempted; he pushed at the table at one end +and felt it move, at first slowly and then quickly, as though he had +set in motion a counterweight. He had just time to swing himself on +the table and grip its edge when the aperture appeared under his feet. +</p> + +<p> +Dick saw the broken stair, and, sitting on the edge of the hole, +dropped through to the rocky floor just as the table slid into its +place. They pushed it back again and propped it, and Arthur and Gilder +joined him below carrying lanterns. He saw a piece of something dark +on the floor and picked it up. It was a strip of silk. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the way,” he said quietly. “I’ll work to the left; you go to +the right, Gilder.” +</p> + +<p> +Arthur made a rapid mental calculation. +</p> + +<p> +“The left passage will lead you to the well, and unless I’m very much +mistaken you will find the air holes on your right-hand side. If you +don’t mind, I’ll go with you.” +</p> + +<p> +The men ascended the treacherous slope and came to the first of the +air holes, continued up until they reached the straight passage down +which Leslie had made her fruitless journey. They, too, were brought +to a halt by the wall barrier, and returned the way they had come. +There was no sign of Leslie or Harry, but when Dick passed the alcove +down which he had dropped from the Abbot’s room he found a burnt match +stalk. +</p> + +<p> +He ascended again, a long, steady climb. +</p> + +<p> +“We’re near the surface of the ground,” said Arthur. +</p> + +<p> +Ahead of them the star lamp of Gilder showed. He was coming back to +meet them. +</p> + +<p> +“This passage ends in a sort of maze,” he reported. “There is a side +passage, but that’s entirely blocked by stone.” +</p> + +<p> +They went back with him to the place and Arthur Gwyn examined the +débris. +</p> + +<p> +“The roof has fallen in here,” he said. “How long ago, it is +impossible to tell. This stone is old, but I should think that the +fall has been going on for years.” +</p> + +<p> +They returned dispirited, and accompanied Gilder on his exploration of +the maze. Though they tried passage after passage, they invariably +found themselves back at the place where they had started. Dick made +another inspection of the fallen roof. It had collapsed a few feet +from the entrance; and, though he did not know this, there was twenty +yards of crumbled rock between him and the little chamber where Leslie +Gwyn was waiting for death. +</p> + +<p> +Dick came out into the light of the setting sun, his haggard face +white with dust. Arthur sat on a stone, his head in his hands, the +picture of despair. Even Gilder was shaken from his habitual calm, +could do no more than stare tragically at the ruin which hid so much. +The broken arch of the window, red in the light of the setting sun, +was more than ever like a query mark. There was something devilish +about it, something which epitomized the spirit that leered and mocked +at them. +</p> + +<p> +“Come back to the house,” said Dick steadily, and, to the bailiff who +approached him: “No, I sha’n’t want the dynamite—yet.” +</p> + +<p> +They walked dispiritedly along the mound, Arthur Gwyn, the most +dejected of all, walking in the rear. Suddenly they heard him shout, +and turned. He was pointing across the river. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it?” asked Dick, hurrying back to him. +</p> + +<p> +“The wishing well—have you thought of that?” gasped Arthur. +</p> + +<p> +“The wishing well?” +</p> + +<p> +And then Dick remembered that rendezvous of the country swains, the +unfathomable crevice in the earth down which, as a boy, he had dropped +stones, listening to hear them strike from rock to rock until they +grew fainter. +</p> + +<p> +“That reaches somewhere,” said Arthur excitedly. “We can but try it.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick ran down to the bank, plunged into the water and waded through to +the other side. The two men followed him, and something whispered in +Dick Alford’s heart that this was his last hope. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch62"> +LXII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">What</span> time is it?” asked Harry. +</p> + +<p> +He had not spoken for two hours, but had sat, clasping his knees, his +head thrust forward, engaged with his wild thoughts. +</p> + +<p> +“Lend me the lantern.” +</p> + +<p> +She passed the lamp back to him. +</p> + +<p> +“A quarter to seven,” she said. “Harry, I feel so hungry.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you?” he asked in surprise. “I don’t feel hungry, I feel—I don’t +know.” +</p> + +<p> +Presently he spoke again. +</p> + +<p> +“How did we get here?” he asked. “I know the roof fell in, but how did +we come into this beastly place?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve been very ill,” she said gently. “You came here whilst you +were sick.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I really?” He seemed amazed at her reply and did not speak again +for fully five minutes. “I seem to remember now that I have been ill. +I sleep so badly and have such horrible dreams. Poor old Dick was +always ragging me about my patent medicines… queer bird, old Dick, but +one of the very best.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke so heartily, with such enthusiasm, that her heart ached for +some unknown reason. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall have to get out of here,” he said. +</p> + +<p> +She did not answer him. +</p> + +<p> +For the tenth time he turned on the light of his lamp and examined the +roof. +</p> + +<p> +“It is vaulted,” he muttered. “I hope nothing happens here.” +</p> + +<p> +She felt him shivering. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing is going to happen, Harry,” she said soothingly. “We’re going +to get out and we’re going to have a big dinner to celebrate our +rescue.” +</p> + +<p> +He chuckled softly. +</p> + +<p> +“We shall never get out of here,” he said cheerfully. “This is the end +of the House of Chelford.” He thought a while. “By Jove, no! Of +course, Dick will inherit the estate. Isn’t it queer, Leslie, that he +never wanted me to marry? That’s the only thing about Dick I cannot +understand, because he’s not a jealous man or an envious man, but a +good, big-hearted fellow—and yet he didn’t want me to marry. Doesn’t +that seem strange to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you’re right, Harry,” she temporized. “Only he didn’t +want you to marry the wrong woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he didn’t want me to marry you,” said Harry in a tone of +indignation. “And if there’s a better girl in the world than you, I’d +like to find her! Of course, I’m a terrible slacker, but…” +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” +</p> + +<p> +The booming voice seemed to come from somebody in the chamber. She +felt him start, and again his frail body quavered in a fit of +trembling. +</p> + +<p> +“What was that?” he asked huskily. +</p> + +<p> +“Hullo!” +</p> + +<p> +The voice came again. She seized the lamp from his hand, ran out of +the cavern to the place where she had seen daylight. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Dick?” she called at the top of her voice, and heard a +husky “Thank God!” +</p> + +<p> +And then from the Cold Room came a burst of demoniacal laughter. There +was yet the gravest danger of all to overcome. She was alone with a +madman! +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch63"> +LXIII +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">She</span> could see no daylight, and thought that night must have fallen, +until a patch of golden red appeared high above her. +</p> + +<p> +“Is Harry with you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she replied. “One moment.” +</p> + +<p> +She went back to find him cowering against the wall, and gripped him +by the shoulders. +</p> + +<p> +“Harry,” she said pleadingly, “they have found us!” +</p> + +<p> +He scowled up at her. +</p> + +<p> +“Who have found us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dick—everybody. We sha’n’t have long to wait now.” +</p> + +<p> +He licked his lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick and everybody,” he said dully. “That is strange… found us!” +</p> + +<p> +She flew back to the little shaft. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you hungry?” boomed the voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Very,” she answered. “But that doesn’t matter—I can live without +food for another twelve hours. We’re in a sort of underground room. +The roof of the passage has fallen in.” +</p> + +<p> +“How long is the passage?” asked Dick quickly. +</p> + +<p> +She thought a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“About forty yards, I think. It cannot be much less.” +</p> + +<p> +“How far from your end is it blocked?” and when she told him, she +heard him groan. +</p> + +<p> +“Leslie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sending something down to you at the end of a string. It is a +pocket compass. Will you tell me exactly the bearings?” +</p> + +<p> +It reached her at last, battered, its glass broken. She put the little +instrument on the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“Put it where I can see it,” he said. “Have you a light?” +</p> + +<p> +She flashed the lamp upon it. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is the north? Just touch the place with your finger. Wait, I +will send for field glasses.” +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes passed, and then he said again: +</p> + +<p> +“Now show me.” And when she had indicated the north, he asked her +where the cavern was. +</p> + +<p> +“Exactly west,” she said with tremulous triumph. “Will it be a long +time before you reach us?” +</p> + +<p> +He made no answer to this. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me how many paces you are from the compass,” and when she had +paced it off and had told him, he groaned. +</p> + +<p> +By this time the consulting engineer to whom he had telephoned in the +afternoon was on the spot. +</p> + +<p> +“The cavern is exactly under the bed of the river,” said that +official. +</p> + +<p> +“Could we enlarge this hole?” asked Dick. +</p> + +<p> +The surveyor shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible. It would take you the best part of a month to blast a way +down. There’s a long fault in the rock here which accounts for the +river’s course,” he added. “Both banks are solid; I can assure you on +that point, because my predecessor bored for water for your respected +father.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick groaned. He could keep the girl alive for a month, but the strain +of it would kill her. Then there flashed simultaneously to two minds a +solution. +</p> + +<p> +“Why not break the dam of the Ravensrill?” he said, and Puttler, who +had the words on his lips, nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s the idea,” he said. “Undo the work of your ancestor! Turn the +course of the river to the Long Meadow—there’s a natural bed for it!” +</p> + +<p> +Ten minutes later the telephone at Fossaway Manor was busy, and here +Mary Wenner was a heaven-sent helper. Every great contractor within +twenty miles had his instructions, and within an hour charabancs, +motor-cars, omnibuses, crowded with horny-handed workmen, were +lumbering up the drive. Car succeeded car, and disgorged the +fustian-clad navvies. They had been taken from alehouses, from their +homes, from workmen’s clubs, drawn even from the cinemas of distant +Brighton, and every hour the number swelled, until there were a +thousand men working by the light of naphtha flames on the great dump +behind Fossaway Manor. +</p> + +<p> +At ten o’clock the omnibuses and lorries were still rolling up the +drive; trolleys laden with wheelbarrows and tools were being rapidly +unloaded at the side of the dump. All southern Sussex worked to cut +the dam of the Ravensrill, and the big dump grew smaller and smaller. +Presently, as the water rose, it spilled into the bed that it had left +for hundreds of years and flowed its irregular course, sweeping aside +barns that had been hastily evacuated, lapping the walls of one +cottage, the inhabitants of which had been removed in time. Little by +little the water in the old bed sank and sank until it was a dark mass +of weeds and silvery shapes that leapt up and down <i>in extremis</i>. +Water voles, trout, pike were shovelled to the bank, and the bed of +the river attacked by men who worked at fever pace, being relieved +every half hour. +</p> + +<p> +“If there is rock there,” said the surveyor, “we are dished. My own +belief is that there’s nothing but sand.” +</p> + +<p> +“And shingle?” suggested Puttler. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir, there’s no shingle. It is a curious fact that we’ve never +found shingle in the Ravensrill. They’ve struck the sand now,” he +said, looking down into the hole, which the men were shoring with logs +of timber. “And I’m glad there is no shingle—sand is much easier to +work.” +</p> + +<p> +He had hardly spoken the words before the foreman shouted: +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve struck shingle here, governor!” +</p> + +<p> +“Shingle?” The surveyor went down the ladder into the hole. +</p> + +<p> +“It is only a layer,” he said when he came back, “but even that is +rather surprising. It opens up all sorts of possibilities.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick did not listen. The value of shingle to a county surveyor was of +no more interest to him than the value of sand to a grocer. +</p> + +<p> +The work was now heavier. A derrick and windlass had to be rigged to +move the heavy loads from the cutting, and that took a considerable +time, during which he paid frequent visits to the “wishing well.” +</p> + +<p> +It was after the shingle had been discovered that Harry’s voice +answered him. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Dick? What are you fellows doing up there?” +</p> + +<p> +The voice held all the old irritation and fretfulness. Briefly Dick +described what was happening. +</p> + +<p> +“Couldn’t you send me something down so that I could work below?” +asked Harry. “I’m perfectly sure I could make it much easier for you.” +</p> + +<p> +To humour him, Dick Alford found a light crowbar and with great +difficulty lowered it. Because of its shape and size, the operation +was a painfully slow one, and Harry fretted and fumed below. +</p> + +<p> +“Hurry, for heaven’s sake!” he shouted. “You don’t suppose I want to +stay down here, do you? I’ve a tremendous lot of work to do—you know +that, Dick, very well.” +</p> + +<p> +Dick did not answer, but his anxiety increased. He knew Harry and his +symptoms all too well to be under any illusion as to what would follow +if his irritation grew beyond the power of restraint, and it was with +a sigh of thankfulness that he felt the crowbar caught in the eager +hands of his brother. +</p> + +<p> +“Be very careful how you use this,” he called. “The men are working +from above and you may have a fall unless you take the greatest care.” +</p> + +<p> +But he was talking to the air. Harry had gone and it was Leslie who +answered him. +</p> + +<p> +“How long will you be, Dick?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know, my dear. A few hours, not longer. Are you all right?” +</p> + +<p> +A little hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I’m all right.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is Harry?” +</p> + +<p> +A longer pause. +</p> + +<p> +“I think so. Is it possible to send something down that he could +take?” +</p> + +<p> +Earlier in the evening Dick had tried to pass the end of a thin rubber +tube to the imprisoned pair, but the attempt had been futile. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll try,” he said, and went in search of one of the two doctors who +had been summoned. +</p> + +<p> +From him he obtained two small brown pellets, and these, wrapped in +paper and weighted, were dropped into the wishing well. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you,” said her low voice. “I don’t know how I can use them, and +for the moment he is very busy.” +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch64"> +LXIV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">There</span> was no question as to Harry’s activity. He had rolled a heavy +boulder from the débris in the passage and, placing it in the centre +of the floor, he could reach the stone roof, which was in six +petal-shaped sectors. The lens of his lamp had been removed so that +the light was diffused, and she had a better view of the room. +</p> + +<p> +There were little holes at intervals that looked as if they had once +held hat-pegs, though why anybody should come into these depths to +hang up his hat, she could not imagine. And then the real value of +this peculiar chamber occurred to her. She found against the wall a +long, rusty hook, so thin that she could break it. This had been the +meat storeroom of the Abbey, the mediæval equivalent to a +refrigerator. The atmosphere was deathly cold. It seemed a very long +way from the Abbey, but in reality it was not more than a hundred and +fifty yards. The old monks had found this cavern, had dressed and +strengthened it, had lined and converted it to their own use. That +explained why this chamber, so far distant from the main building, had +received the ancient architects’ attention. +</p> + +<p> +Harry was in his shirt sleeves, which were rolled up, revealing his +thin but sinewy arms. He had managed to get the claw of the crowbar +between two of the stones, and was working at them gradually, talking +the while to himself in an undertone. Her anxiety increased. The +paroxysm, when it came, would be short, but what would be the end of +it? Her mouth went dry and she felt for the knife she had put in her +pocket and stealthily opening the blade, thrust it through the lining +to keep it in place. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Harry paused, wiped the perspiration from his forehead with +his arm, and looked down at her. His horn-rimmed spectacles had +slipped down his nose and he stopped to adjust them. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick has no intention whatever of rescuing us. I think that you ought +to know that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure you’re mistaken, Harry,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +But opposition only made him worse and he snapped down at her. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re a fool! All women are fools! I tell you it is a plot. Dick has +no more intention of rescuing us…” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped suddenly and passed his hand across his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish I had brought the picture,” he muttered, and glared at her. +“But for you I should have taken it with me, and now I’ve left it +behind for that swine to jeer at!” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at the roof. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re doing splendidly, Harry,” and, his attention distracted, he +attacked the roof again. +</p> + +<p> +“You can trust me, Leslie,” he said. “I am the only person in the +world you can trust. You have no enemies. The Black Abbot is dead! I +killed him, and I am very proud of the fact. Every Chelford should +kill at least one Black Abbot, and I have had the approval of my +illustrious ancestor.” +</p> + +<p> +By this time the claw of the crowbar had been worked deep into the +crevice he had made, and he began to lever slowly. As she watched him +she saw the stone move. It dropped suddenly an eighth of an inch, and +he raised an excited shout. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, you see!” he said, in his shrill voice. “Dick never dreamt I +would be able to do that, or he would not have allowed me to use this +crowbar.” +</p> + +<p> +He got down from the stone, scooped up two handfuls of water from the +worn channel, and drank, dashing the remainder of the water into his +face before he leapt again on the stone and went to work with renewed +vigour. Backward and forward he levered the jemmy, and again the stone +dropped, until it was perceptibly out of place. +</p> + +<p> +“You must be careful, Harry,” she warned him. “That may come down with +a rush and hurt you.” +</p> + +<p> +He was sensible enough to see this, changed the position of the stone, +and worked from the other angle. And then, without warning, all that +she had predicted happened. He leapt aside into the open doorway as +with a crash the sector fell and broke into fragments on the stone +pavement. +</p> + +<p> +“You see, you see!” he screamed. “I’ve done it!” +</p> + +<p> +A steady shower of shingle was falling. He struck upward with the +point of his crowbar and the shower increased until it made a heap on +the ground. +</p> + +<p> +And then he saw the edge of a box. +</p> + +<p> +“Look, look, look!” +</p> + +<p> +His trembling hands could scarcely hold the tool. With the energy of +dementia he dug away at the shingle beneath it, and presently, +gripping it by the edge, he pulled it clear. It was a tiny chest, a +miniature of those she had seen at Fossaway Manor, six inches in +length, four inches broad and as deep. With his crowbar he pried open +the lid and the rusted iron hasp parted with a snap. Inside was what +appeared to be a bundle of discoloured cloth. He lifted it out. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something heavy here,” he said hoarsely, and his hands shook +so, that in pity she came forward and helped unwrap the thing that the +box held. Presently it came to light: a long flask containing a +colourless fluid. The bottle was heavily sealed at the top. +</p> + +<p> +He snatched it from her hand; a frenzied gleam in the staring eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“The elixir!” he croaked. “The Life Water! Oh, God be thanked!” +</p> + +<p> +She tried to take it from him, but he snarled round on her like an +angry dog. +</p> + +<p> +“You devil!” he screamed. “You’re in league with Dick! You’re trying +to rob me of life! But you sha’n’t, you sha’n’t!” +</p> + +<p> +The flask was corked with a piece of wood that had swollen. He dragged +at it with his teeth and presently extracted the stopper. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall live eternally! But you shall die! He shall find you here +dead, and realize…” +</p> + +<p> +He put the flask to his lips and drank. She covered her eyes with her +hands, then, as he moved, gripped the knife. +</p> + +<p> +And then she heard something drop with a heavy crash to the floor and +looked. The shingle was still sliding down like sand in an hourglass, +but now something big and heavy thudded to the ground. It looked +ludicrously like a yellow candle, but its weight was such that the +first bar struck the pavement and the impact bent it hook-shape. +Another followed. She watched, fascinated, as they came, first slowly, +then in a stream, from the triangular space in the roof—scores, +hundreds of yellow candles thundering down in twos and threes amidst +the flow of shingle. +</p> + +<p> +“The gold, the gold!” screamed Harry. “But he shall never have it!” +</p> + +<p> +He lifted the lamp, but as his arm rose she stooped swiftly. The crash +of the lamp as it struck the wall came to her and she crouched back +toward the wishing well. She heard a loud crash in the chamber; a +sector of the roof had given under the strain, and now, with a hiss +and a rush, shingle and ingot were falling until they almost filled +the room. They flowed about her feet like a heavy stream. She +struggled to get it underfoot and became more and more engulfed. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, Dick!” she screamed, but he did not hear her. +</p> + +<p> +He had reached the broken roof of the Cold Room and was slipping and +sliding down the heap of shingle under which lay a man who was dead +before the torrent of stone was loosened. Later they found him, +gripping a crystal flask in his hand. What it had contained, no man +ever knew. +</p> + + +<h3 id="ch65"> +LXV +</h3> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When</span> Leslie Gwyn woke, the sunlight was peeping round the edges of +the drawn blinds. She sat up suddenly and her head went round and +round. And then she remembered and her eyes closed, as if to shut out +some horrible sight. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, you <i>are</i> awake?” said Mary Wenner, bustling in. “Dick sent me up +to see how you were. Everybody’s most fearfully anxious about +you—even Fabe, though I’m not of a jealous disposition, as everybody +knows.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is the time?” +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a shiver, she remembered that somebody else had asked her +that. How long ago? An eternity! +</p> + +<p> +“Twelve thirty-five,” said Miss Wenner, consulting her watch. “I’ve +been out looking at the workmen. Really, my dear, it’s more like a +Desirable Residential Estate than the grounds of Fossaway Manor. +Wheelbarrows and navvies and goodness knows what! They say it’s cost +his lordship twenty thousand pounds.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie looked at her in wonder. +</p> + +<p> +“His lordship?” she said in a hushed voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean Dick,” said the calm Miss Wenner. “The King is dead, long live +the King! That’s my motto every time.” And then, in a more sober tone; +and rather ashamed of herself for her heartlessness: “Poor boy! It was +a mercy for him. Fabe’s gone back to London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who is Fabe? Oh, Mr. Gilder!” said the girl, smiling faintly. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Wenner dropped her eyes modestly. +</p> + +<p> +“We are engaged. It was all his idea, because, as you know, Leslie +darling, I’m not the sort of girl to throw herself at any man’s head. +But he’s persuaded me.” She sighed heavily. “I suppose I’d better. I’m +getting on in years, and a girl can’t always be pretty.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie brought her feet to the floor and stood up. She was still a +little unsteady and the pain in her feet was atrocious, in spite of +the dressing that the doctor had applied. +</p> + +<p> +“I must say that Arthur took it very well,” said Miss Wenner as she +assisted the girl to dress. “It was naturally a great blow to him.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was?” Leslie was a little dazed. +</p> + +<p> +“My engagement,” said Mary. “You didn’t know——” she sighed. “Arthur +was very fond of me, I’ll admit it. But in the circumstances I don’t +think it would be nice to marry a gentleman who’s bad friends with my +fiancé, do you, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +“I had no idea that there was anything between Arthur and you,” said +Leslie truthfully. +</p> + +<p> +Again Miss Wenner sighed. +</p> + +<p> +“Very few people knew anything about it. Perhaps it is all for the +best. Arthur thinks so. It isn’t as though I’d thrown myself at him, +so there’s no harm done one way or the other.” +</p> + +<p> +Leslie was wearing a pair of man’s slippers when she came down the +broad stairs. Dick’s study door was open and she saw him sitting in a +deep cane chair on the lawn outside, a pipe between his teeth, a heap +of documents on his knees which he was examining slowly one by one. He +looked round, rising from his chair at the sound of her voice. She saw +his face and was shocked. +</p> + +<p> +“Dick, you look a hundred years old!” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel a thousand,” he said, and guided her to the chair. “Sit down. +Well, that’s the end, Leslie—and the beginning.” +</p> + +<p> +She nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we’ve managed to keep the ugliest part of it out of the +newspapers. Poor old Harry!” There were tears in his eyes which he did +not attempt to hide. “Poor old victim!” +</p> + +<p> +“Victim of what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of his mother,” said Dick. “There never was a time when she was sane. +My poor father did not discover this until after the child was born, +and her death removed one of the greatest sorrows from his life. The +other was—Harry! Well, now you know the secrets of us all, what do +you think, Leslie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was the Black Abbot?” she asked, and then, to her amazement: +</p> + +<p> +“I was,” he replied quietly, and told her all he had told the high +official from Scotland Yard. +</p> + +<p> +“The queer thing was that he must have seen the gold before he died. +What fools we were! The Diary told us as plainly as anything could +that the old Lord Chelford who hid his treasure chose the bed of the +river. It was a year of drought, the river was quite dry, and probably +he found a deep hole in its bed, hid the gold and covered it with +shingle that would not wash away.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are very rich now, Dick?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes—I suppose I am. There are a few minor trials and troubles for +us, Leslie dear,” he said, “but when those are all over and everything +is settled we will go abroad for a year and forget all about these +ghastly days and nights.” +</p> + +<p> +She took his hand between her two palms. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +FINIS +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (<i>e.g.</i> frock-coat/frock coat, +paving-stone/paving stone, shirt-sleeves/shirt sleeves, etc.) have +been preserved. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Abandon the use of drop-caps. +</p> + +<p> +Adjust the chapter numbering (the source text had two chapter XLIs). +</p> + +<p> +Add ToC. +</p> + +<p> +Punctuation: fix some missing periods and quotation mark pairings. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter I] +</p> + +<p> +Change “such <i>aws</i> the gloom in the library” to <i>was</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XIII] +</p> + +<p> +“he said, and his voice was <i>kusky</i> with emotion” to <i>husky</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XX] +</p> + +<p> +“then went <i>downstars</i> to his own room” to <i>downstairs</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXI] +</p> + +<p> +“moved stealthily toward the bed, <i>feeeling</i> for the brass rail” to +<i>feeling</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter XXIV] +</p> + +<p> +(“Do you know that <i>Robison</i> Crusoe was a German?”) to <i>Robinson</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter LVI] +</p> + +<p> +“and <i>occasionlly</i> as prospective buyers of our property” to +<i>occasionally</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter LXIV] +</p> + +<p> +“Her mouth went <i>dray nd</i> she felt for the knife she” to <i>dry and</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75643 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75643-h/images/cover.jpg b/75643-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..420e23f --- /dev/null +++ b/75643-h/images/cover.jpg 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. 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