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diff --git a/79012-h/79012-h.htm b/79012-h/79012-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4365dc6 --- /dev/null +++ b/79012-h/79012-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12472 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <meta name="viewport" content="width=device-width, initial-scale=1"> + <title> + The wolves and the lamb | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1 { + text-align: center; + clear: both; +} + +h2 {text-align: center; clear: both; font-size: 1.25em;} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +table { + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; +} + +td {padding-left: 0.5em;} +.tdr {text-align: right;} + +.pagenum { + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + font-style: normal; + font-weight: normal; + font-variant: normal; + text-indent: 0; +} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; +} + +.x-ebookmaker .blockquot { + margin-left: 7.5%; + margin-right: 7.5%; +} + +.blockquot2 { + margin-left: 7.5%; + margin-right: 7.5%; +} + +.center {text-align: center;} + +.right {text-align: right;} + +.smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + +.gap {padding-left: 3em;} + +.indentright {padding-right: 6em;} +.indentright2 {padding-right: 10em;} + +.hangingindent {padding-left: 1em; text-indent: -1em;} + +.ph1 {text-align: center; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph2 {text-align: center; font-size: xx-large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph3 {text-align: center; font-size: x-large; font-weight: bold;} +.ph4 {text-align: left; font-size: large; font-weight: bold;} + +div.titlepage {text-align: center; page-break-before: always; page-break-after: always;} +div.titlepage p {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.5; margin-top: 2em;} + +.xxlarge {font-size: 175%;} +.large {font-size: 125%;} + +.x-ebookmaker .hide {display: none; visibility: hidden;} + +.figcenter { + margin: auto; + text-align: center; + page-break-inside: avoid; + max-width: 100%; +} + +.poetry-container {text-align: center;} +.poetry {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} + +@media print { .poetry {display: block;} } +.x-ebookmaker .poetry-container {display: flex; justify-content: center;} + +.transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + margin-left: 17.5%; + margin-right: 17.5%; + padding: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + +.x-ebookmaker .transnote {background-color: #E6E6FA; + color: black; + font-size:smaller; + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 5%; + padding: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; } + + </style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79012 ***</div> + + +<div class="figcenter hide"><img src="images/coversmall.jpg" width="450" alt=""></div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1>THE WOLVES<br> +AND THE LAMB</h1> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>A complete list of the books by<br> +J. S. Fletcher already published<br> +may be found at the back of this<br> +volume.</p> +</div></div> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="title page"></div> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="titlepage"> +<p><span class="xxlarge">THE WOLVES<br> + AND THE LAMB</span></p> + +<p>BY<br> +<span class="large">J. S. FLETCHER</span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/titlelogo.jpg" alt="publisher's logo"></div> + +<p>NEW YORK<br> +<span class="large">ALFRED · A · KNOPF</span><br> +MCMXXV</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> +<p>COPYRIGHT, 1925, BY ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. ·<br> +PUBLISHED, JANUARY, 1925 · SET UP, ELECTROTYPED<br> +AND PRINTED BY THE VAIL-BALLOU PRESS,<br> +BINGHAMTON, N. Y. · ESPARTO PAPER MANUFACTURED<br> +IN SCOTLAND AND FURNISHED BY W. F.<br> +ETHERINGTON & CO., NEW YORK · BOUND BY H.<br> +WOLFF ESTATE, NEW YORK. ·</p> + +<p class="center">MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</p> +</div></div> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + + +<table> +<tr><td class="tdr">I</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Wolves</span>, <a href="#Page_9">9</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">II</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Lamb</span>, <a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">III</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Dead Man’s Orders</span>, <a href="#Page_25">25</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">IV</td><td> “<span class="smcap">He will be just in Time!</span>” <a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">V</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Initial Paces</span>, <a href="#Page_41">41</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">VI</td><td> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Walsingham at Home</span>, <a href="#Page_50">50</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">VII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Carsdale’s Carefulness</span>, <a href="#Page_59">59</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">VIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Pledge Redeemed</span>, <a href="#Page_67">67</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">IX</td><td> <span class="smcap">Plain Speech</span>, <a href="#Page_75">75</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">X</td><td> <span class="smcap">News for Mrs. Walsingham</span>, <a href="#Page_83">83</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XI</td><td> <span class="smcap">Unforeseen</span>, <a href="#Page_91">91</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Mr. Carsdale’s Chambers</span>, <a href="#Page_99">99</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Bond Street Jeweller</span>, <a href="#Page_107">107</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XIV</td><td> <span class="smcap">Burgoyne Starts a New Trail</span>, <a href="#Page_115">115</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XV</td><td> <span class="smcap">Mrs. Walsingham Admits</span>, <a href="#Page_123">123</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XVI</td><td> <span class="smcap">Conspirators</span>, <a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XVII</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Student of Problems</span>, <a href="#Page_139">139</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XVIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Blair’s Third Notion</span>, <a href="#Page_147">147</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XIX</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Man at the Theatre Door</span>, <a href="#Page_156">156</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XX</td><td> <span class="smcap">Mr. Carsdale is Confronted</span>, <a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXI</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Weaving of Webs</span>, <a href="#Page_173">173</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXII</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Council of War</span>, <a href="#Page_181">181</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Eve of the Battle</span>, <a href="#Page_189">189</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXIV</td><td> <span class="smcap">Miss Guyner Intervenes</span>, <a href="#Page_197">197</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXV</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Blank Cheque</span>, <a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXVI</td><td> <span class="smcap">Every Woman for Herself</span>, <a href="#Page_213">213</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXVII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Plain Truth</span>, <a href="#Page_221">221</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXVIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">A Question of Account</span>, <a href="#Page_229">229</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXIX</td><td> <span class="smcap">The Silent Tenant</span>, <a href="#Page_237">237</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXX</td><td> <span class="smcap">Burgoyne Faces the Music</span>, <a href="#Page_246">246</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXI</td><td> <span class="smcap">Was It Murder?</span> <a href="#Page_254">254</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Sleuth Hounds</span>, <a href="#Page_262">262</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Sanctuary</span>, <a href="#Page_270">270</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXIV</td><td> <span class="smcap">Knight-Errant</span>, <a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXV</td><td> <span class="smcap">For Sylvie’s Sake</span>, <a href="#Page_285">285</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXVI</td><td> <span class="smcap">Inspector Skarratt Investigates</span>, <a href="#Page_293">293</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXVII</td><td> <span class="smcap">The House Next Door</span>, <a href="#Page_301">301</a></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="tdr">XXXVIII</td><td> <span class="smcap">Salving a Fortune</span>, <a href="#Page_309">309</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="ph2">THE WOLVES<br> +AND THE LAMB</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[9]</span> + <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER I<br> +<span class="large">THE WOLVES</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>“Three Hundred Thousand Pounds! And in the hand +of an inexperienced youngster of twenty-one. And—incidentally—in +Mr. Barclay Leverton’s!”</p> + +<p>Carsdale flung down the letter which he had been reading, +and with a cynical laugh that came as a note of exclamation +at the end of his involuntary burst into speech, +crossed the room, and throwing open the window, leaned +over the sill and looked out upon Norfolk Street, lying +deep down below. It was nearly ten o’clock of a lovely +May morning, and in the street itself, and in the Strand +at its head, and along the Embankment at its foot, men +were quickening their last paces in a laudable desire to be +in office or chambers by the hour at which London, laziest +city in the world in respect to its early business hours, +gets into harness for the day. There was a sense of generous +warmth and of new life in the spring air; the people +who tenanted the floor immediately beneath the offices of +Leverton & Carsdale had taken a fancy that year to ornament +their window-ledges with flowers, and the scent of +the well-filled boxes, just watered by a girl-clerk, came +floating up to Carsdale’s nostrils as he leaned out. But +Carsdale neither noticed the hurrying men, nor the bright +sunlight, nor the fragrance of the innocent blossoms; all +that he was conscious of as he stood there, drumming +impatient fingers on the sill, and staring with unseeing +eyes at the high buildings in front, or the moving figures +below, was that a callow youth had expressed a desire to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[10]</span>entrust Barclay Leverton with the management and investment +of a fortune of three hundred thousand pounds. +A fine sum, thought Carsdale, with another cynical laugh; +a fine, handsome, substantial, comfortable sum!—a sum +out of which there should be good pickings for whoever +was lucky enough to handle it.</p> + +<p>The striking of the neighbouring clocks roused Carsdale +from his reverie, and with an impatient shrug of his +shoulders he turned from the window and went back to +the desk, on which he had thrown the letter which had +given him food for thought. But instead of picking it up +and reading it again, he took a cigar from an open +box, and having lighted it, turned and contemplated his +own reflection in a mirror which hung over the mantelpiece. +This personal inspection was as critical as if it +was being made by another man; when it was over, +he felt somewhat impressed by himself. He was tall; +he had a good figure; he could smile pleasantly and ingratiatingly; +he possessed a handsome face and curly +dark hair, and darker eyes: he was scrupulously well-dressed; +by a mere effort of will he could assume a cheery, +good-tempered, optimistic expression which was very taking +and had often proved useful in critical situations. +And blowing out a cloud of opalescent smoke, he nodded +at his mirrored self and smiled.</p> + +<p>“I think John Carsdale is more likely to attract a +youngster than Barclay Leverton is!” he muttered as he +turned from the mirror and placed the tip of a finger on +one of a series of electric bells. “The great thing is—the +usual thing—opportunity—opportunity!”</p> + +<p>The door opened with a noiseless jerk, and a boy’s head +and shoulders appeared. The shoulders were garbed in +a smart uniform of blue and silver; the head, surmounted +by an unruly thatch of sandy-coloured hair, seemed unduly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[11]</span>large for the shoulders, and was fronted by a face +which for its distinguishing features showed a turned-up +snub nose, a very wide mouth, and a pair of remarkably +alert blue eyes. The eyes fastened upon Carsdale in a +silent inquiry.</p> + +<p>“Ask Mrs. Walsingham to be kind enough to come +here,” said Carsdale. The sharp face disappeared as instantaneously +as it had shot into sight; the door closed. +And Carsdale sat down at the desk, and picking up the +letter, fingered it nervously until the reopening of the door +roused him from the train of thought into which he had +fallen. Then he looked up, half rising from his chair.</p> + +<p>“Shut the door, Sylvie,” he said in a whisper. “I—I +want to talk to you.”</p> + +<p>The woman who entered glanced sharply at Carsdale +with a slight uplifting of her fine eyebrows, silently closed +the door, and took the chair at the side of the desk which +he indicated with an outstretched finger. For a moment +he regarded her critically.</p> + +<p>“You’re looking very well this morning,” he said, +suddenly. “In fact, at your best. And I’m glad of it.”</p> + +<p>The woman smiled—a quiet, inscrutable smile which +suggested many things. She was a pretty woman with +all the outward signs of refinement and delicacy +strongly marked; her hair, her teeth, her hands all showed +the elaborate care of a person scrupulously particular +about the details of the toilet; if she was gowned somewhat +elaborately for a business office, if the rings which sparkled +on her slim white fingers seemed a little conspicuous +amongst books and papers, both rings and gowns were in +the best of taste, and seemed to belong to the wearer as +naturally as her fine eyes and delicate ears. Wherever +she went, this was a woman to be noticed—very careful +and discerning observers would have said, after a keen +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[12]</span>inspection of her, that she was also a woman of considerable +possibilities in more directions than one.</p> + +<p>“And why this particular expression of pleasure?” she +said, half-mockingly, half-satirically. “For some reason +of—business, eh?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale tossed the letter which he was still nervously +fingering across to her.</p> + +<p>“It’s an excellent idea to have a fascinating young +woman in an office, Mrs. Walsingham,” he said, with a +light laugh. “There—read that.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham took the letter and glanced it rapidly +over as a preliminary to a careful reading.</p> + +<p>“Oh?” she remarked. “A private letter to Mr. +Leverton.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t marked private,” answered Carsdale carelessly. +“And haven’t I been opening all Leverton’s +letters since he was taken ill? By the by, have you heard +anything this morning?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. He had a very bad night,” replied Mrs. +Walsingham. “I am to telephone again later, after the +doctors have been. Now let me read this letter, whatever +it may be.”</p> + +<p>What Mrs. Walsingham, secretary to Leverton & +Carsdale, and particular friend of John Carsdale, read, +was a communication written in a boyish hand, bearing +date of the previous day, and addressed from a Southampton +hotel. And as she read, she decided that the +writer, however young and callow he might be, was frank +and candid and trusting to a degree which might involve +him in danger.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Mr. Leverton</span>” (ran the letter): “I am a stranger +to you, but you will remember that you and my father, Martin +Shrewsbury, were close friends before he left England for the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[13]</span>West Indies, some years ago. I am his only son—and only child—Richard—age +twenty-one. My dear father suddenly died six +weeks ago, and of course I have come in for everything—he +left me, in all, a little more than £300,000. It is really about +this that I am writing to you. The money is now—everything +having been cleared up here—in bankers’ hands in London. Of +course, I want to invest it. I have heard my father speak +highly of you as a financial man, and I found your address +amongst his papers. Perhaps, for the sake of your old friendship, +you will give me the benefit of your experience and advice? +You see, I have never been in England before. My father +meant to send me to school in England, but when I was about +old enough to leave, my mother died, and as he had no one +but me, my coming was put off from time to time, and in the +end I stayed at home. So I don’t know much of English matters, +nor of business, except of what I learnt on our plantations. +It was my father’s earnest wish that I should come +to England as soon as he was dead; he had left his affairs in +such a state that everything could be immediately wound up. +So here I am, and I feel everything very strange!</p> + +<p>“I intend to leave Southampton for London early to-morrow +morning, and I will venture to call upon you as soon as possible +after my arrival.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="indentright">“Yours sincerely,</span><br> + “<span class="smcap">Richard Shrewsbury</span>.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham read this letter twice over before she +folded it up and handed it back across the desk. Her +face was as calm and inscrutable as ever when she looked +at Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said.</p> + +<p>Carsdale waved his cigar with a flourish that suggested +much.</p> + +<p>“Three hundred thousand pounds!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham regarded him steadily out of her +half-closed eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[14]</span>“Well?” she repeated.</p> + +<p>Carsdale sprang to his feet and began to pace the room. +“Three hundred thousand pounds!—a raw youth of +one-and-twenty who has never set foot in England before!—my +dear Sylvie, what a chance for you and me!” +he said, presently coming to a halt at the side of his companion’s +chair. “What a chance!”</p> + +<p>“This letter is addressed to Barclay Leverton,” she said +pointedly.</p> + +<p>“Barclay Leverton,” answered Carsdale, “is very ill +in bed, and is likely to remain there for some weeks. +This young Johnny Rawbones is coming here to-day—to-day!—and +we shall see him. And—you and I are clever +people, Sylvie.”</p> + +<p>“Middlingly clever—there is room for improvement +in each of us,” answered Mrs. Walsingham. “So—you +want to be first in the field?”</p> + +<p>“Naturally! And it ought to be an easy thing,” said +Carsdale. “The youngster comes here—Mr. Leverton is +unfortunately away from business but his partner, Mr. +Carsdale, is not, and Mr. Carsdale, who has opened and +read Mr. Shrewsbury’s letter, will be happy to do all that +Mr. Leverton would wish to do for the son of his old +friend. And—Mr. Carsdale can make himself very ingratiating +to young gentlemen with money. So—if she +pleases—can Mrs. Walsingham.”</p> + +<p>“If she pleases,” observed Mrs. Walsingham. “The ‘if’ +is an important word, though a small one.”</p> + +<p>“And three hundred thousand pounds is an important +matter,” said Carsdale. “I think that you and I together, +Sylvie, should be able to do something with this boy before +he sees Leverton. We can enjoy a long start—and +first impressions make a big difference. That’s why I said +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[15]</span>I was so glad to see you looking at your best this +morning.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham made no immediate reply. She sat +twisting the rings about her fingers and apparently lost +in thought. And suddenly she turned sharply on +Carsdale, who was still pacing up and down, puffing hard +and fast at his big cigar.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got to remember, Jack,” she said, in quick, +decisive tones, “that Leverton and this boy are sure to +meet—eventually.”</p> + +<p>“It’s the start I want,” answered Carsdale. “Only let +me—and you—get our spoons into the pudding first! +And, according to the doctors, if Leverton recovers pretty +quickly, it’ll be weeks and weeks before he’s fit for business. +So that——”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham held up a finger.</p> + +<p>“Details, Jack—attend to details!” she said, warningly. +“Remember there’s such a person as Miss Frances +Leverton in the world.”</p> + +<p>“A girl of nineteen against—against you and me!” exclaimed +Carsdale. “Come, come! Why——”</p> + +<p>“Frances Leverton, in her way, is as sharp as you are,” +interrupted Mrs. Walsingham. “You know as well as I +do that she’s been coming here every two or three days +ever since her father was taken ill, wanting to know everything. +How would you keep her from finding out about +this boy? And when Leverton found that you’d kept that +letter from him——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Frances is decidedly in the way,” said Carsdale, +hastily. “But that can be got over. The youngster could +be kept away from here, and——”</p> + +<p>A sharp ring at the telephone which stood on the desk +broke in upon Carsdale’s observations. He flung aside +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[16]</span>his half-smoked cigar, and dropping into his chair, +picked up the receiver.</p> + +<p>“Yes—yes!” he said mechanically. “Yes—this is Mr. +Carsdale. Yes—what do you say?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham, who had taken possession of Richard +Shrewsbury’s letter again, and was re-reading it thoughtfully, +heard a sudden, sharp exclamation from Carsdale, +and turned to see him drop the receiver as he wheeled +round his chair. He stared at her with widening eyes.</p> + +<p>“Leverton’s dead!” he exclaimed. “D’you hear? Leverton’s +dead!”</p> + +<p>“Dead?” she said. “Why——”</p> + +<p>“Died twenty minutes ago,” answered Carsdale. “The +doctor says——”</p> + +<p>But at that moment the door opened, and the sandy +hair and sharp blue eyes of the office-boy showed themselves +again. And this time sounds came from the wide +mouth.</p> + +<p>“A gentleman, sir—Mr. Richard Shrewsbury!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[17]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER II<br> +<span class="large">THE LAMB</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>It was characteristic of Mr. John Carsdale, and of Mrs. +Walsingham, that at the first sound of the opening door +their faces assumed that curiously indifferent and expressionless +look which has come to be associated with the term +business. Carsdale glanced at the office-boy as if that +youthful functionary had been some machine which had +just executed its purely mechanical message: his companion +remained apparently absorbed in the reading of the +letter.</p> + +<p>“Where is Mr. Shrewsbury, Griffkin?” asked Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“In the waiting-room, sir,” answered the boy.</p> + +<p>“Did you tell him that Mr. Leverton was not here?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir—told him nothing. Your orders, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Quite right. Bring him in, Griffkin. You needn’t go, +Mrs. Walsingham,” said Carsdale, as the secretary made +a professional movement towards the door. “I think I +shall want you. At once, Griffkin—straight in!”</p> + +<p>The boy vanished, leaving the door ajar; a moment +later, he reappeared, to throw it wide open, and to admit +a young gentleman who advanced into the room with an +air of shy expectation. And as he crossed the threshold +the man and woman who rose to greet him looked at him +with a curiosity which was all the greater because it was +so carefully concealed, and each, after one sharp glance at +the caller, thought the same thought—that Mr. Richard +Shrewsbury was not at all what they had expected him to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[18]</span>be, and both looked at him again, with different motives.</p> + +<p>It was very evident that Mr. Shrewsbury, ignorant of +England though he might be, was English from head to +foot. He was certainly bronzed and tanned to a degree +quite unusual in Europe, but there was nothing in his +whole six feet of height that did not bespeak the English +blood, pure and unmixed for generations. Tall, slim, +athletic, broad of shoulder, slender of flank, he was of the +type that one sees nowhere in the world but in English +hunting-fields and on English cricket-grounds—except +when it is wanted for the sterner games of war and needful +adventure. If he had lived in England all his life, +said Mrs. Walsingham to herself, his hair would have +been a light brown; the fierce suns of the West Indies had +deepened it to a rich chestnut which was well in keeping +with the dark tint of his cheeks. And being a judge of +manly beauty, she decided that here was a youngster who +was handsome as the youthful Greek gods are supposed +to have been, and who was at the same time utterly unconscious +that all women would admire the strength and +grace of his figure, his square chin, his firm mouth, almost +innocent of moustache, the direct gaze of his grey-blue +eyes, and the untrammelled freedom of his gait. She felt +a quick leaping of her pulses as she looked at him, and it +was with difficulty that she kept admiration out of the eyes +which she so vigorously schooled to instant obedience.</p> + +<p>As for Carsdale, he looked at the visitor with a growing +consciousness that this was not exactly what he had +expected to meet. There was something in the young man’s +appearance which showed that he was no fool; he might be +inexperienced even to greenness, but he looked to have a +will of his own. And Carsdale, stepping forward to meet +him with outstretched hand, assumed his most serious +air.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[19]</span>Young Richard Shrewsbury took the offered hand in a +grip which made Carsdale think of giants and blacksmiths.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham smiled as she saw Carsdale wince beneath +the unconscious strength; she smiled again as she +saw the youngster’s face flush under its tan.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Leverton?” said Richard, eagerly. “This is kind, +sir—you will think me a very early caller, but——”</p> + +<p>Carsdale lifted a hand.</p> + +<p>“I’m very sorry, Mr. Shrewsbury,” he said, motioning +Richard to a chair, “but I am not Mr. Leverton. I am +Mr. John Carsdale, his partner. This lady is Mrs. +Walsingham, our confidential secretary. The fact is Mr. +Shrewsbury, Mr. Leverton has been ill for some time, and +as I open all letters that come here, I opened yours this +morning, so we were expecting you. In fact, we were just +talking of you.”</p> + +<p>Richard Shrewsbury heard all this with growing wonder +and interest; he was already speculative and inquisitive +about this obviously-man-of-the-world Carsdale, and +boyishly conscious of Mrs. Walsingham’s charm and pretty +face. He shyly offered her his hand, and gripped hers +as mightily as he had grasped Carsdale’s. But Mrs. +Walsingham was of the sort that would have picked up a +white-hot iron if need be without uttering a sound or +winking an eyelash, and she let her hand rest in the young +giant’s as long as he, from sheer confusion and shyness, +cared to hold it, and meanwhile favoured him with the +full battery of her eyes, whereat he blushed up to his own—after +which he somehow managed to get into the easy +chair which Carsdale had motioned him to take.</p> + +<p>“I—I’m awfully sorry to hear about Mr. Leverton,” he +found himself saying, when he had taken another look at +his companions and his surroundings. “I hope it is not +a serious illness?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[20]</span>Carsdale looked at Mrs. Walsingham; Mrs. Walsingham +looked at the floor.</p> + +<p>“Well—er, it’s very serious, Mr. Shrewsbury,” replied +Carsdale. “Ver-y serious indeed. I—ah, well, I don’t +know that there’s any need to beat about the bush. The +fact is, Mr. Leverton is dead.”</p> + +<p>“Dead!” exclaimed Richard, staring blankly at his informant. +“Dead? Ah, I see!—I suppose he has been +dead for some time? Of course, I didn’t know.”</p> + +<p>“He has been dead just about half an hour,” answered +Carsdale, coolly glancing at the clock. “I had just received +the news of his death over the telephone when you were +announced. We were not exactly surprised, for he has +been very ill, but the end came quite suddenly at last.”</p> + +<p>Richard looked from one to the other with a puzzled expression. +He made as if to drag his long limbs out of the +very low chair into which they had been consigned.</p> + +<p>“I’m most awfully sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know Mr. +Leverton, of course, but I’d like to have seen him for my +father’s sake—he often spoke of him. I—perhaps I’d +better go, Mr. Carsdale.”</p> + +<p>But Carsdale waved him back into the chair.</p> + +<p>“Not at all, not at all!” he said “As I told you, I am—was, +rather—Leverton’s partner, and I know that nothing +would please him better than that I should do for you +what he would have done. So please command me in any +way, Mr. Shrewsbury—I dare say I can give you the same +services and advice that he would have given.”</p> + +<p>The lad’s face flushed with pleasure at the warmth and +kindliness of Carsdale’s tone.</p> + +<p>“That’s very kind of you, sir,” he said. “I’m awfully +obliged. Of course, I’ll come to you, as soon as I get +settled down.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale laughed—an indulgent and fatherly laugh.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[21]</span>“You’d much better come to me before you get settled +down,” he said, smiling benignantly. “Otherwise, you +may be settling down in the wrong place. I learnt from +your letter to poor Leverton that you are quite a stranger +in London.”</p> + +<p>“I am a stranger to England—I never saw English soil +before yesterday morning. Oh, yes, it’s all strange—very!” +replied Richard.</p> + +<p>“Well, then, remember the old adage,” said Carsdale, +who had a vague and much mixed notion that he had some +Scriptural warrant for what he was saying, “and bear in +mind that strangers are often taken in. If Leverton had +been here, the first thing he would have done would have +been to see that you were comfortably established in this +howling wilderness. He, no doubt, would have carried +you off to his own house—I can’t, for I’m a bachelor, and +live in rooms in which I can only just turn around. But I +can help you to find a proper corner for yourself—no man +better for, as Mrs. Walsingham there will assure you, I +know London as well as I know this room.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham turned her eyes once more on Mr. +Shrewsbury, and again smiled on him.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Carsdale has an extensive and peculiar knowledge +of London,” she said. “You would find him a wonderful +guide, Mr. Shrewsbury.”</p> + +<p>“It’s awfully kind of you,” said the caller. “I—yes, I +do find it rather—immense.”</p> + +<p>“And you have been in it—an hour or two, eh?” +laughed Carsdale. “Wait until you see it. Now, seriously, +to what hotel have you gone?”</p> + +<p>Richard blushed once more, boyishly.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid it’s not up to much,” he said, apologetically. +“It’s one I heard my father mention, but perhaps things +are changed since his day.” He gave the name of an old-fashioned +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[22]</span>hotel that had been famous in certain circles +thirty years before, and Carsdale threw up his hands.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that’ll never do!” he said. “The glory has vanished +from that establishment long since. Now, let me advise +you. What you ought to have is a suite of rooms of +your own in the West End, and a good man-servant of +your own, and I can put my finger on the very place, and +on the very man, to-day. That’s much better than living +in a hotel, and you can dine out whenever you like. I can +show you the rooms I’m speaking of this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“It’s very good to take so much trouble,” said Richard. +“I should like that—I hate hotels. But your time?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale waved his hand.</p> + +<p>“Oh, we manufacture time here in London!” he said +airily. “Besides, I want to do for you just what Leverton +would have done. Yes, we’ll see those rooms this afternoon. +Then I suppose you’ll want a good tailor, and a +good bootmaker, and all the rest of it—leave all that to me, +and I’ll see that you are properly attended to. This man-servant +that I can get for you is an excellent creature—thoroughly +experienced, and so on—but it is never wise +to ask a valet as to what tradesmen you should patronize—never!”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t it?” asked Richard innocently. “Why?”</p> + +<p>“Because they care to feather their own nests,” replied +Carsdale, solemnly, shaking his head. “When you want +any advice about buying anything in London, trust to a +disinterested friend, or to your business man, or you’ll be +cheated. That is of course until you gain some experience +of the town, as you soon will do.”</p> + +<p>Richard ventured to smile at Mrs. Walsingham—he +scarcely knew why.</p> + +<p>“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to trouble you at first, Mr. +Carsdale,” he said, “for I have no friends in London. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[23]</span>When I got here this morning and saw how big it was I—well, +I began to feel a bit lonely and frightened.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale’s face became sympathetic. He shook his head +and glanced at Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, gravely. “A man may be as lonely as +a hermit in London. But you won’t be lonely—you’re +young, and you’ll soon make friends. We must see to it +that they’re the right sort. Well, now,” he continued, +rising from his chair and glancing at the clock, “I’m +afraid I must turn to business. But I can give you this +afternoon, Mr. Shrewsbury, with pleasure. I’ll call for +you at your hotel at three o’clock. Until then—don’t +lose yourself in our wilderness!”</p> + +<p>Richard felt himself dismissed, and made his bow to +Mrs. Walsingham. Carsdale let him out by a side door, +and took him to the elevator.</p> + +<p>“Don’t be afraid to command my services in any way,” +he said, as he shook his visitor’s hand. “I want you to feel +that you can get from me what you’d have got from my +late partner.”</p> + +<p>“It’s very kind of you,” said Richard. He hesitated a +moment at the door of the elevator. “I should like to +send my sympathy to Mr. Leverton’s family,” he said +shyly. “Perhaps you’ll tell me what to do?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, to be sure, to be sure!” replied Carsdale. “This +afternoon, then.”</p> + +<p>He waved his hand, and gave Richard another of his +friendly and brilliant smiles as the elevator dropped, but +the smile had vanished, and his face was perplexed, when +he re-entered his room to rejoin Mrs. Walsingham. And +Mrs. Walsingham, also re-entering at the same moment, +but from another door, showed him an equally perplexed +countenance. Carsdale stopped, staring at her. She came +straight towards him, biting her upper lip, and she inclined +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[24]</span>her head in the direction of the room from which she +had just come.</p> + +<p>“Jack!” she whispered. “There’s Frances Leverton +in her father’s private room; she came some time ago, +Griffkin says. And, I say, Jack—Winch, the solicitor, +is with her!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[25]</span> +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER III<br> +<span class="large">A DEAD MAN’S ORDERS</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Carsdale’s first action, on receiving this intimation from +Mrs. Walsingham, was to step swiftly past her, and to close +the door through which she had just come, and which communicated +with a general office wherein the boy Griffkin +and a young lady typist were wont to discharge their tasks +and to receive callers. He turned round on the secretary +with an astonished stare.</p> + +<p>“What—here, almost within an hour of her father’s +death!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“I told you she is as sharp as you are,” said Mrs. Walsingham. +“She must have called for Winch and brought +him straight here. And—why?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale first shrugged his shoulders and then spread out +his hands.</p> + +<p>“Goodness knows—I don’t!” he answered. “It seems—unseemly. +Perhaps she wants some papers—the will, it +may be. Besides as you know, Leverton had his own private +concerns here, just as I have mine. I can’t stop her +from going into her father’s private room.”</p> + +<p>“No, because she’s in,” said Mrs. Walsingham. “And +what is more, the door’s locked. Griffkin heard it lock +as soon as they entered.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale started.</p> + +<p>“The door—locked?” he exclaimed. “Good God, what +does that mean? That sounds mysterious.”</p> + +<p>“I should think it means that she and Winch are going +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[26]</span>through Leverton’s private desk and his private safe,” +said Mrs. Walsingham, regarding him steadily. “What do +you think?”</p> + +<p>But Carsdale merely shrugged his shoulders again, and +smiled enigmatically. He turned to the paper-littered +desk behind him, and picking up Richard Shrewsbury’s +letter, placed it carefully in his pocket-book.</p> + +<p>“I’ve already said that I can’t help what she or Winch +do in that room,” he answered. “What’s more to the +point is—what do you think of the youngster?”</p> + +<p>“That he’d better be caught young,” replied Mrs. Walsingham +tersely. “He’s the sort that will soon grow out +of the callow stage. He’s no fool, Jack—only young and +green. Be careful. And don’t go too fast at it.”</p> + +<p>“No, no!—I think I see the way,” said Carsdale. +“Now, these people in Leverton’s room? You’d better go +back to yours, and I’ll go on with my work—I want them +to think that all’s going as usual. I’ll leave my door open, +so that I shall know when they come out—I’d give something +to know why on earth they came at all!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham made no reply to this; she picked up +some documents and went away, and Carsdale having followed +her out into the general office to give some orders +to the girl typist, left his door open and kept an eye on that +behind which his late partner’s daughter and her solicitor +were busied with—what? And instead of sitting down at +his desk, he moved restlessly about his room, wondering +why Frances Leverton should have hurried away from her +father’s death-bed, and come to the office in this mysterious +fashion.</p> + +<p>But Carsdale—and a few other people—knew that the +business relations of Barclay Leverton and himself were +peculiar. There was no legal partnership between them. +It was true that their names appeared in conjunction on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[27]</span>the list of tenants painted up in the marble-paved hall +on the ground floor of the palatial building of which they +occupied the top-story; that they were blazoned forth, +again in conjunction, on the heavy brass plate of the swing doors +which gave admission to their offices, but the real +truth was that they were only partners when it suited them +both to be partners. They joined in paying the rent and +the rates and the office expenses; they mutually shared the +services of Mrs. Walsingham, of Miss Rousby, the typist, +and of Griffkin, the office-boy. They had had business +affairs in common; sometimes they had business affairs +in which other men joined. But each had his own affairs, +his own business; each had his own secrets. And the +people who knew Leverton well, and Carsdale well, knew +that each could, if he pleased, be as close and secret as the +grave.</p> + +<p>To men who had only a superficial knowledge of this +establishment, the precise nature of the business carried +on by Leverton & Carsdale, in conjunction or separately, +was more or less of a mystery. They did not describe themselves, +and were not described anywhere, as anything. In +plain truth, they were agents, speculators, and dabblers of +a comprehensive, all-embracing sort. They turned their +brains, hands, money to anything that seemed likely to be +profitable. They were adepts at promoting companies, at +advising people on the investment of capital, at introducing +men of ideas to men of means, at showing a poor inventor +how to profit by his invention. All manner of strange +and curious folk went up and down the elevator to and +from Leverton & Carsdale’s—some wore glad and gleeful +countenances, even at the end of a year’s experience of +them; some began to cultivate a gnashing of teeth and +a muttering of curses before many weeks had passed. +There were men who hinted that strange tales could be told +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[28]</span>of the establishment, who wagged the head at the name +of Leverton, and winked the eye at that of Carsdale, but +in spite of that there was always a steady stream of business, +and each man always seemed to be advising somebody, +or engineering some important schemes for somebody +else. And there were still other men who hinted—more +quietly and darkly—that if anybody knew the real +and inner workings of the concern, whether in its joint or +its single capacities, that person was the lady known as +Mrs. Walsingham, who was held to be the confidante of +both men, and represented them very readily in their +absence.</p> + +<p>But Carsdale knew that Leverton like himself, had +secrets which he shared with no one, and he wondered as he +waited for the door of Leverton’s room to open, if the +dead man’s daughter had come so hurriedly from her +father’s death-bed in connection with one of them. Of +Frances Leverton, Carsdale, despite his reference to her as +a youthful person, had a secret and a deep fear. He +knew that she was something more than clever; he had an +instinctive feeling that she had no great belief in him. +On the rare occasions on which he had visited the Maida +Vale flat in which Leverton and his daughter—an only +child—resided, he had more than once caught the girl +watching him in a curious fashion, and he had said to himself +as he remembered her grave and steady eyes, and the +firmness of the lips which could look very determined +in conjunction with an equally firm and resolute chin, that +Miss Frances Leverton had got all her father’s shrewdness, +and a great deal more business capacity than Leverton +himself had ever possessed. Other people saw the girl +as a handsome young woman of nineteen who was naturally +bright, vivacious, merry, and companionable: Carsdale +only knew that she invariably froze to him, that her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[29]</span>grey eyes grew hard, and her chin aggressive, and that +she always seemed to be searching into and examining his +inner self. In fine he was very well aware that Frances +Leverton did not trust him any more than any sensible being +would trust a wolf that has found entrance to a fold +of young lambs.</p> + +<p>“I’d give anything if I knew what they’ve come for!” +repeated Carsdale, after he had kicked his heels for another +ten minutes. And growing impatient and tired of +inactivity, he went into the outer office, sent Miss Rousby +to Mrs. Walsingham’s room with a message which would +keep her there, despatched Griffkin to the post-office, and +thus cleared the court for a meeting with Frances Leverton +and her man of law. By that time Carsdale’s temper +was ruffled; the locking of the door had touched his +pride; something told him that in that mere act there was +a tacit declaration of war on Frances’s part.</p> + +<p>The door opened at last, and the girl came out, carrying +a small despatch box. Carsdale’s quick eyes passed from +her and her burden to the solicitor; he, too, carried another, +a larger, despatch box. And Carsdale knew, then, that +they had been examining Leverton’s papers, and were +carrying at any rate some of them away.</p> + +<p>Carsdale had sufficient knowledge of Frances Leverton’s +character to know that she would like him none the better +if he affected a personal grief for her father which he did +not feel. And possessing a certain quality of straightforwardness, +and not being in anywise deficient in courage, he +went directly to the point which was in his mind.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think it a very polite thing that you should +come here and lock yourself and Mr. Winch in that room, +Miss Leverton,” he said. “No one would have interrupted, +whatever business you had to do.”</p> + +<p>Frances Leverton regarded him calmly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[30]</span>“I am not so sure of that, Mr. Carsdale,” she answered. +“I have been subjected to interruptions more than once on +coming here.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale shrugged his shoulders in his characteristic +fashion.</p> + +<p>“Oh well!” he said. “When offices are used as these +have been, people get into the habit of running in and out. +But it gives a bad impression to the clerks, when principals +or the representatives of principals, lock doors against other +principals. And it seems to me strange that you should +come here immediately after your father’s death and—I +judge from what I see—examine and remove papers +in which I may be concerned.”</p> + +<p>The solicitor, a keen-eyed, but mild-faced elderly man, +pushed himself forward.</p> + +<p>“Miss Leverton has only done exactly what her father +wished her to do, Mr. Carsdale,” he said quietly. “I +think,” he continued, turning to Frances with an air of +wise suggestion, “I think, my dear, that under the circumstances +you should tell Mr. Carsdale why you came here +this morning in what may seem rather a hurry.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no matter, no matter!” exclaimed Carsdale. “I +don’t wish to trouble Miss Leverton.”</p> + +<p>But Miss Leverton looked at him gravely and followed +Mr. Winch’s advice.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said. “Perhaps—perhaps I ought to have +spoken to you first, Mr. Carsdale. But Griffkin said +you were particularly engaged, and I have much to do. +Well—last night, although the doctors had said nothing +of it, my father seemed to develop some fear that he might +die suddenly, and he gave me instructions that, if he did, +I was to go at once to Mr. Winch, to ask him to accompany +me here, and to open the private safe with a key which +was in Mr. Winch’s possession, and to take away a certain +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[31]</span>bundle of papers and a package. I have only carried +out his instructions—and if I locked the door it was because +I did not want to be interrupted.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale suddenly became all outward sympathy and +agreeableness.</p> + +<p>“Oh, all right, all right, Miss Leverton!” he said. +“Sorry I said what I did, but I’m sure you’ll understand. +You see, your father and I always ran in each other’s rooms +quite freely—I don’t know that we ever locked anything up +from each other. But these are doubtless quite private +matters—of course, I had nothing to do with his private +desk and his safe. Oh, that’s all right! Now, Miss Leverton, +is there anything I can do—anything I can take off +your shoulders? Pray tell me if there is.”</p> + +<p>But Miss Leverton answered quietly that she was much +obliged to Mr. Carsdale, but there was nothing: Mr. Winch +and herself could undertake all that was necessary, especially +as her father had desired that his funeral arrangements +should be of the simplest nature. And then she and +the solicitor went away, and Mr. Carsdale, after twisting +his moustaches for a moment, during which he stood in an +attitude of deep thought, went into Mrs. Walsingham’s +room and dismissed Miss Rousby, and carefully shut the +door upon her slim figure.</p> + +<p>“It’s nothing,” he said, turning to Mrs. Walsingham +reassuringly. “Nothing! She’s only been to fetch some +papers and things—it turns out that Leverton got a notion +into his head that he might die suddenly, and in that +case he wished her to remove certain things. Oh, it’s +nothing.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham gave him a queer look.</p> + +<p>“That’s exactly like you,” she said. “How do you +know what has been taken away. You ought to have insisted, +in view of your relations with Leverton, that nothing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[32]</span>should be touched except under your inspection.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you can’t interfere with a man’s private safe,” +said Carsdale, shrugging his shoulders. “This is some +private matters. I know very well what papers of mine +Leverton had, and they amount to nothing. Now, look +here, Sylvie—I’m going up town to see after the arrangements +for this young Shrewsbury. I shall make a very +good day’s work out of my introductions—and I’ll not be +back until evening, so you must take charge. There’s nothing +particular, and if there is, and you can’t do it yourself, +tell them Leverton’s dead, and I’m out until to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>Then Carsdale went off at his usual breakneck speed, +and Mrs. Walsingham sat in her cozy little office and +thought. She remained in thought until Miss Rousby +had gone to lunch; then she took a letter from her desk +and, going into the general office, sent Griffkin off to the +City with it, and she subsequently took the trouble to look +out of the window and to watch the young gentleman go +leisurely down the street in the direction of the Temple +station. And then, she herself being the only living soul +in the suite of offices, Mrs. Walsingham passed rapidly into +the dead man’s private room, and went straight to the safe +which had just been visited by Frances Leverton. For +Mrs. Walsingham was burning with curiosity and eagerness +to make herself assured of a certain something, and without +delay she drew a key from her corsage and opened the +heavy door. A moment later she had closed it again. +She knew then what she had wanted to know—she knew +what the dead man’s daughter had carried away.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[33]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IV<br> +<span class="large">“HE WILL BE JUST IN TIME!”</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Miss Leverton and Mr. Winch, each carrying a despatch box, +the contents of which were as yet unknown to either, +passed out of the coolness of the marble-paved hall of +Abbotsbury House into the warmth of Norfolk Street, +and turned upward to the bustling Strand. And Mr. +Winch, remembering all the circumstances of this unusual +morning, halted.</p> + +<p>“I think, my dear,” he said, glancing reflectively at +his burden, and then at Frances, and then along the street, +“I think we had better take a motor-cab. It is true that +our burdens are not very heavy, but their contents may be +very valuable. I have little doubt they are—and we ought +not to run the risk of having them snatched from us, and +this is a busy hour of the day; moreover, I am sure you +are tired. And therefore—yes, driver, we will hire you. +250A, New Square.”</p> + +<p>Frances was glad to set down her burden on Mr. Winch’s +desk in a quiet and peaceful old room in an equally peaceful +and quiet house in Lincoln’s Inn. The presence of +Mr. Winch himself, a grey-whiskered, fatherly man of +leisurely movements, was restful after the loud and bustling +personality of John Carsdale, and the atmosphere +of his offices, where all seemed to go smoothly and quietly, +was vastly preferable to that of the mahoganied and enamelled +suite in Norfolk Street, where the click of the typewriter, +and the ring of the telephone bell was ever insistent. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[34]</span>And Mr. Winch seemed to recognize that the girl +felt this, and he drew up the easiest chair in the room +to the side of his desk for her, and motioned her to be +at rest in it.</p> + +<p>“Now, my dear,” he said, taking his own chair and putting +on his spectacles, “let me see the memorandum of +instructions which your father gave you last night about +this matter. You say you wrote his instructions down just +as he gave them?”</p> + +<p>“Word for word,” replied Frances, producing a folded +paper. “And I afterwards read over to him what I had +written.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, very well,” said Mr. Winch. “Now, let me +read it all over again more carefully—we only glanced +through it before. Well, now——”</p> + +<p>He spread out the sheet of foolscap which the girl +handed him, and holding it at the distance of an inch or two +before his spectacled nose, read its contents aloud, slowly +and ruminatively.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right">“<i>May 18, 1908.</i></p> + +<div class="hangingindent"> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Memorandum of Instructions from Barclay Leverton to +Frances Leverton: in case of B. L.’s sudden death.</span></p> +</div> + +<p>“<i>First.</i> Within an hour of my death (or as quickly as may +be possible after that occurs) you are to go to Mr. Septimus +Winch, in New Square, and to ask him to accompany you to +my office in Norfolk Street, and to take with him the key of +my private safe, which I recently handed to him.</p> + +<p>“<i>Second.</i> You are to open the safe, and to take from the +right-hand drawer the packet of securities which you will find +there, and which is done up in brown paper, and sealed in red +wax. These you will hand to Mr. Winch.</p> + +<p>“<i>Third.</i> From the left-hand drawer you will take the small +package which is done up in cartridge paper and sealed in black +wax, and the large envelope which lies beneath it, similarly +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[35]</span>sealed. These you will carry away yourself, taking care not +to release your hold upon them.</p> + +<p>“<i>Fourth.</i> You and Mr. Winch will return to his office at once +with these things, and Mr. Winch will immediately deposit the +packet of securities sealed in red wax in his safe, to be properly +examined at some other time.</p> + +<p>“<i>Fifth.</i> You and Mr. Winch will then open the envelope +sealed in black, and will read its contents, which are two papers +marked on the outsides A and B respectively.</p> + +<p>“<i>Sixth.</i> You will then open the sealed packet, and examine +the object referred to in these papers.</p> + +<p>“<i>Seventh.</i> Mr. Winch will then seal up both packet and envelope +again, and will at once, and in your presence, deposit +both with his bankers until the date mentioned in the papers +A and B.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“Um!” said Mr. Winch, laying down the sheet of foolscap +on his desk. “There appears to be a great deal of +mystery in these instructions, my dear. You have no +idea what it is that is referred to here and the object in +the sealed packet?”</p> + +<p>“None except that it is something of considerable value +or great importance,” replied Frances.</p> + +<p>“Evidently—evidently!” assented Mr. Winch. “Now, +I wonder why my late client never mentioned this matter +to me?”</p> + +<p>“He never even mentioned it to me,” said Frances. +“I think, perhaps, that he might have said more last night, +but he became very weak—too weak to talk—after he had +dictated that memorandum.”</p> + +<p>“Aye, just so, just so! Well, now,” continued Mr. +Winch, rising and possessing himself of the bundle of +papers sealed with red wax. “We will discharge the first +of our duties by placing these securities in my safe. +See, my dear, we will deposit them here, in this drawer, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[36]</span>to be examined at our leisure. And now—now that is +done, we will see what is in this envelope.”</p> + +<p>Frances Leverton watched the old lawyer almost apathetically +as he slowly took up the heavily-sealed envelope, +turned it over two or three times as if it had been a curiosity, +and methodically inserted the point of an old-fashioned +ivory paper-cutter beneath the flap. She had not +expected her father to recover from his illness, and his +death had not come as a surprise to her, but she was alive +to the fact that she was now quite alone in the world, so +far as kith or kin were concerned, and although she had +been busily engaged all the morning, she was dully conscious +that a great event in her life had happened, and +that within the next few days she would have to think +seriously as to her future. And believing the task in +which she and Mr. Winch were engaged to be one which +only affected her late father’s business affairs, she had no +great interest in it, beyond a desire to carry out his +wishes—the mystery of the memorandum did not appeal +to her as much as it did to the old gentleman, who was just +then drawing out of the stout envelope two sheets of +equally stout paper.</p> + +<p>“Let us be in order,” observed Mr. Winch. “We +will take A first. Now, my dear, perhaps we can read this +together.”</p> + +<p>But in spite of this suggestion, Mr. Winch read the document +aloud, dwelling impressively upon every word.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="right"> “<span class="smcap">Abbotsbury House, Norfolk Street, Strand</span>,<br> + “London, W.C.<br> + “<i>June 21, 1905.</i></p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Barclay Leverton, Esq.</span></p> + +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Sir</span>,—</p> + +<p>“I acknowledge hereby the receipt from you of the sum of +five thousand pounds sterling, which you have lent me for the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[37]</span>purposes of my proposed exploration of Central South America, +upon which I am just starting.</p> + +<p>“As security for this loan I have deposited with you a diamond +necklace which is my own whole and sole property, +and which has been in possession of my family for the last +hundred years, and is believed to have once been the property +of the Empress Maria Louisa.</p> + +<p>“I hereby agree that if I do not repay to you the sum of +five thousand pounds, with interest at the rate of five per cent. +per annum, on or before June 21, 1908, the diamond necklace +above mentioned is to become your property, to be disposed +of at your discretion.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="indentright2">“Yours faithfully,</span><br> + “<span class="smcap">Ralph Seymour Burgoyne</span>.”</p> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Winch took off his spectacles, and turned an astonished +face on his companion, who on her part was now +awakened to a keen interest.</p> + +<p>“Burgoyne!” exclaimed Mr. Winch. “Why, that is +surely the traveller, the great explorer?”</p> + +<p>“Who is said to be lost,” remarked Frances, eagerly. +“Don’t you know—nothing’s been heard of him for over +a year.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure—to be sure, my dear!” said Mr. Winch. +“Dear me!—this is a very remarkable document. I had +no idea that your father had been engaged in any transaction +of this kind. However,” he continued, with a side-glance +at the packet which Frances had brought from Norfolk +Street, “we now know, my dear, what is in that small +parcel—a diamond necklace. We had better examine it at +once, and ascertain that it is safe.”</p> + +<p>“But we have not yet read paper ‘B,’” said Frances. +“Hadn’t we better follow the instructions of the memorandum, +Mr. Winch?”</p> + +<p>“True, true, so we had,” replied the old lawyer, picking +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[38]</span>up the second of the papers. “Now, what have we here?—ah, +some notes in your father’s handwriting. Let me see—um—ah!—perhaps +you will read, this my dear!—your +father’s calligraphy always was a little puzzling.”</p> + +<p>“Well, this, then, is dated May 14, 1907,” said Frances. +“Just about a year ago. This is what he says:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<div class="hangingindent"> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Memorandum as to the Transaction between Captain +Burgoyne and Myself, and referred to in the Paper +marked ‘A.’</span></p> +</div> + +<p>“A rumour having reached England that Captain Burgoyne +and his party have been lost in the wilds of Central South +America, and that there is little hope of their returning home, +I think it well to write down what my wishes are with respect +to the diamond necklace which he left with me as security for +the £5,000 which I lent him for the purposes of his expedition.</p> + +<p>“If the £5,000 so advanced, and the interest upon it at five per +cent. per annum, is not paid (or arranged for) on or before +June 21, 1908, I (or my executors in case of my death between +now and then) will be quite justified in selling the necklace at +our discretion. That is a point upon which Captain Burgoyne +and I were quite at one when the money was advanced. Although +the necklace has been in his family for a long time, he +has no sentimental feeling about it, and he has more than once +expressed to me his firm determination never to marry, so that +there is small expectation (if, as I hope, he is alive) of his +having son or daughter to leave it to.</p> + +<p>“If, however, I am living on June 21, 1908 (which is doubtful, +as I suffer from a serious affection of the heart), and if Captain +Burgoyne has not then redeemed the necklace, I shall not dispose +of it, but shall hold it at his disposal for at least one year +longer. And I wish my daughter Frances, to whom I shall +leave all I have, to do what I should do, and my executors to +respect my desires in the matter.</p> + +<p class="right">“<span class="smcap">Barclay Leverton.</span>”</p> +</div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[39]</span>The girl folded the formal-looking paper into its original +crease, and laid it softly down by its fellow document. +She turned to the old solicitor with a glint of tears in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>“You will do what my father wished, Mr. Winch?” +she said. “I know you’re one of the executors.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course, of course, my dear!” exclaimed Mr. +Winch. “Yes, certainly we shall respect his wishes. +Really, this is quite romantic! But let us look at the +necklace. Once the property of the Empress Maria Louisa, +who was, I think, the second wife of Napoleon Buonaparte. +Most interesting!—the necklace must be very beautiful.”</p> + +<p>But when between them, they had undone the various +wrappings in which the necklace was packed, and had at +last brought it to light, Mr. Winch felt himself disappointed. +The old gold settings were dull and tarnished: +the stones, he said, looked like pieces of glass.</p> + +<p>“But look at their size and their fire!” said Frances. +“Oh, Mr. Winch, this is worth much more than five thousand +pounds.”</p> + +<p>“Very probably, my dear, very probably,” assented +Mr. Winch. “And therefore all the more reason why you +and I should promptly pack it, seal it, and carry it to my +bankers, together with those documents. Let us go at +once.”</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, as they came out of Mr. Winch’s +bank in Chancery Lane, Frances suddenly caught the old +man’s arm, and pointed to a newspaper contents bill which +a lad was holding in front of him as he cried his wares.</p> + +<p>“Look, look!” she exclaimed. “Do you see it? ‘News +of the Burgoyne Expedition—All Safe’!”</p> + +<p>She almost snatched a paper from the boy, while Mr. +Winch felt with both hands for a copper. Suddenly she +thrust the paper before his eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[40]</span>“There!” she said. “Oh, you can’t see without your +glasses. Listen, then—‘The Burgoyne Expedition, seven +all told, has arrived at Lima, and will leave at once for +England, and may be expected at Southampton, about +June 20.’ There, Mr. Winch!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Winch nodded his head several times before he +looked at Frances, and gravely observed: “He will be +just in time!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[41]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER V<br> +<span class="large">THE INITIAL PACES</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Young Richard Shrewsbury went away from Abbotsbury +House in a state of pleasurable excitement. He thought +Mr. Carsdale a most agreeable and good-natured man, +and Mrs. Walsingham a very pretty and fascinating +woman; he congratulated himself on the fact that Fate had +thrown Carsdale in his way, and he wondered if Mrs. Walsingham +was a wife or a widow. Until he had stepped into +Carsdale’s room he had felt lonely, and a little afraid of +the great whirling, confusing life into which he had so +suddenly been thrown; now he was no longer solitary or +alarmed; Carsdale’s breezy manner and calm optimism +had acted like a tonic on his nerves; he strode up Norfolk +Street, feeling as fresh as the May morning which was covering +London with a haze of glory, and something whispered +to him every moment that he was young, and healthy, +and possessed three hundred thousand pounds, and that the +ball of Life was at his feet for him to kick as high as he +pleased. Oh, yes, he said to himself, it was decidedly good +to be alive!</p> + +<p>At the top of Norfolk Street he stopped, to stare about +him with increased delight. So far, he had seen nothing +of London. The hotel to which he had driven on his arrival +was an old-fashioned hostelry in the neighbourhood +of Charing Cross; a house which had once had a reputation +that still remained as a cherished memory in the minds of +old fogies; he had driven straight from it to Leverton’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[42]</span>office, and had been too much occupied with thoughts of +meeting his father’s old friend to look about him. But +now having four hours to spare before keeping his afternoon +appointment with Carsdale, he was keenly conscious +of that desire to wander and to explore which quickly +obsesses all youngsters who strike London for the first +time. And with a wholesome unconcern of destination, +and being aware of the money in his pocket, this wide-eyed +adventurer went whithersoever he liked during what remained +of the morning and in the warm noontide and the +early afternoon, with the result that Carsdale, who was +the soul of punctuality wherever money was concerned, +had to wait five minutes for him at the hotel. He laughed +as the young man came hurrying in.</p> + +<p>“It is easy to see what you have been up to, my +friend!” he said. “I suppose you think London is a city +of—what shall we say?—Fairyland?”</p> + +<p>“It’s the most wonderful place I ever dreamt of,” replied +Richard in all simplicity. He dropped into a chair +at Carsdale’s side, and looked round him at the somewhat +ancient and dingy fittings and furniture of the smoking-room +in which they sat, and his face expressed his +thoughts. “I see now,” he continued, “why you threw +up your hands when I told you where I was stopping. I +should think this place is very old-fashioned. Just because +I was passing it, and was near it, I went into the +<i>Ritz</i> to get some lunch. I don’t suppose there were such +places in my father’s time, were there?”</p> + +<p>“Nor for years later,” said Carsdale, smiling. “So +you like that part of the town? That’s well, for the +<i>pied-à-terre</i> which I have in mind for you is just off Piccadilly—it +is, in fact, in Berkeley Square itself. And as +we may as well do all we can this afternoon, so that you +can complete the settling-down business and feel yourself +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[43]</span>at home, we’ll just step into my car and be off. By the +by, Shrewsbury—well drop the formal ‘Misters,’ eh?—you’ll +want a car of your own, and you must let me get +one for you, but that can wait a day or two.”</p> + +<p>It seemed to Richard Shrewsbury, unaccustomed as he +was to modern life in a great capital, that it was a very +easy matter to do things in London—all that he and Carsdale +did that afternoon was done so smoothly, so pleasantly, +and to the accompaniment of such courtesy and attention +from the various people with whom they came in +contact. But he was all unconscious of the fact that Mr. +Carsdale, who had a large and peculiar acquaintance with +all manner of folk who had things to sell and profits to +make, had already visited every one of the people to whom +he took his young friend, and had made them keenly alive +to the knowledge that Richard was a gentleman, not of +prospects, but of certainties—the certainty, at any rate, +of being in actual possession at that moment of a cash capital +of three hundred thousand pounds. And being unconscious, +he took all the politeness that was shown him as +being characteristic of the London tradesman, and his +spirits rose, and he felt that London was a good place to +live in, and saw it through rosy spectacles—which was, +when one comes to think of it, an excellent thing for him, +seeing that first impressions are naturally apt to give a +good tone and colour to life.</p> + +<p>“This suite of rooms,” remarked Carsdale, as they +stepped out of an elevator in a modern mansion which +some enterprising builder had erected on all the latest +principles in a corner of Berkeley Square which had once +been occupied by an old-fashioned house—“this suite of +rooms which I am going to show you, Shrewsbury, is one +which I can confidently recommend. It is neither too +large nor too small: it is just what a young bachelor like +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[44]</span>yourself wants; it is just the place in which you will like +to receive your friends. You don’t want a place in which +to give dinner-parties, nor even to lunch people; nowadays, +everybody entertains anywhere but in their own +houses. It is well and beautifully and artistically furnished; +all that is necessary is to embellish it with your +own pictures and your own books and your own objects +of vertu: I can tell you how to buy and to choose all these. +It is quiet; it is central for that part of the world in which +you will have to live; and the yearly rental for a well-equipped +suite, is most reasonable. It is a lucky thing +that it should be to let—and here is Mr. Messenger, the +agent who has the letting of it.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Messenger, an elaborately-dressed gentleman, who +might have belonged to the highest order of the peerage +(as represented in the popular journals of fiction), +awaited Mr. Carsdale and his young friend in the corridor +which led to the suite of rooms of which the elder man +had been speaking; near him, in an attitude of respectful +attention, stood a clean-shaven, neat-figured person who +was also very well and soberly dressed, and carried a silk +hat in his hand, but whose garments, well cut as they were, +seemed to suggest in themselves that they were carefully +designed as a sort of livery. This individual greeted +Carsdale and Richard with a deep bow and a composed +smile; Carsdale threw him an off-hand nod.</p> + +<p>“See you presently, Kedgin,” he said. “Now, Mr. +Messenger, this is Mr. Richard Shrewsbury, and we’ll +look round the place at once. I’ve just been telling Mr. +Shrewsbury that he’s lucky to find such a convenient suite +vacant. Let’s see—Lord Verdimere had it last, hadn’t +he?”</p> + +<p>“For three years, Mr. Carsdale,” replied Mr. Messenger, +in grave and measured tones. “And his lordship +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[45]</span>would have retained it but for the fact that his regiment +was ordered to India for an indefinite period. Since his +lordship left, however, Mr. Carsdale, the suite has been +entirely re-decorated, and the reception-rooms have been +fully re-furnished, and I think I may assure Mr. Shrewsbury +that—for a suite of modest dimensions, you know, +Mr. Carsdale, and at a moderate rental—he could find +nothing better in London. This way, gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>It did not occur to Richard at the moment that what +is one man’s notion of modesty and moderation is not another’s; +he was wholly absorbed in examining and admiring +the place which he was invited to settle down in and +to call home. It seemed to him to be a very palatial suite +of apartments: quite a little house in itself, he thought, +except that everything was on one level, and that there +were no stairs. He listened and observed in silence while +Mr. Messenger pointed out the features and advantages of +the place. There was a properly-sized entrance hall. +There were two excellent reception-rooms, each with an +outlook on Berkeley Square. There were two equally excellent +bedrooms; there was a bathroom with all the latest +inventions and improvements. The accommodation for +domestics was arranged, said the agent, on the most modern +principles, and was designed for a married couple, +who were provided with a bedroom, a sitting-room, a +kitchen (to which was added a butler’s pantry and wine +cellar), the usual offices, and a separate entrance. Everything +was perfect and fully approved as regards sanitation, +ventilation, and the supply of water. The suite was +fitted throughout with electric light, and there was a first-class +and luxurious supply of linen, glass, and china.</p> + +<p>“But not, of course, silver and plate,” added Mr. Messenger. +“Our tenants, naturally, supply their own silver +and plate.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[46]</span>“Oh, of course, of course!” said Carsdale. “Yes, of +course.”</p> + +<p>“And the rent,” concluded Mr. Messenger, softly, “the +rent, as the suite stands, is one hundred and twenty +guineas per calendar month. Or,” he added, with a bland +smile, and an air of conferring a great favour, “we would +say fifteen hundred pounds per annum—on the usual +terms of a yearly tenancy, of course.”</p> + +<p>“Very reasonable, very reasonable!” murmured Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“You would advise me to take the suite on those +terms?” asked Richard. “You know, of course, better +than I do.”</p> + +<p>“I should certainly advise it,” answered Carsdale. +“You couldn’t do better. As I said, you’re fortunate in +finding the place to let.”</p> + +<p>Richard turned to Mr. Messenger with an old-fashioned +bow.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” he said. “I’ll take the suite, then, on +those terms.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Messenger also bowed and rubbed his hands.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” he said. “You will not regret your +bargain. Then you will bring Mr. Shrewsbury round, +Mr. Carsdale, at your con——”</p> + +<p>“We’ll come round, and sign the agreement in a few +minutes,” said Carsdale. “And give you a cheque for +the first quarter, too. I suppose you’ve got a cheque-book +on you, Shrewsbury?” he added. “If you haven’t, +I have—it’s all one.”</p> + +<p>But Richard had a cheque-book on him, and made haste +to say so, and Mr. Messenger departed with another bow, +and Carsdale stepped out to the hall and called in the +man whom they had left in the corridor. The man came +in with a certain quiet assurance, in which confidence in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[47]</span>himself seemed to be combined with the exact amount of +proper respect due to a possible master, and as he drew +up Carsdale waved his hands towards him in the fashion +in which a seller might exhibit some thoroughly good +article to a likely purchaser.</p> + +<p>“Now, this, Shrewsbury,” he said, “this is William +Kedgin. I have known him for several years. He is a +thoroughly honest, reliable man. He is a first-class valet, +a thoroughly experienced gentleman’s servant. He has +valeted several gentlemen of more or less note. He has +a wife who is a capital housekeeper, and who can be guaranteed—with +some assistance from him—to keep your +suite of rooms in apple-pie order; she is, moreover, equally +capable of sending in just what you would like a breakfast +to be if you give a bachelor breakfast party. You +can safely leave your clothes, your linen, your wine, in +Kedgin’s hands; your breakfast, your dusting, your cleaning-up, +in Mrs. Kedgin’s. And your terms are, I think, +Kedgin, four pounds a week for the two of you, and find +yourselves, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Quite right, sir,” replied Kedgin in a quiet, assured +voice. “Our usual terms, sir. If Mr. Shrewsbury would +wish to see our testimonials, Mr. Carsdale——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think Mr. Shrewsbury need bother,” said +Carsdale. “Mr. Shrewsbury can depend upon me.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, certainly,” said Richard, who had already +conceived a very high opinion of Carsdale’s powers. “I +shall be very glad to engage you on those terms,” he continued, +turning to Kedgin.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, sir,” replied Kedgin. “We shall do our +best to give you complete satisfaction, sir. When would +you wish us to enter upon our duties, sir?”</p> + +<p>“Why, that’s just what I was going to speak of,” said +Carsdale. “Look here, Shrewsbury, you may as well come +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[48]</span>in here at once. Let Kedgin go to the hotel, pay your +bill, and bring your luggage here. I’m going to ask you to +dine with me, so you’ll be fixed up for the evening, and +Kedgin will have all ready for you when you turn in at +night. That’s your wisest plan.”</p> + +<p>And Richard acquiesced readily, and they gave Kedgin +his orders, and went off to Mr. Messenger’s office, and there +Richard signed a document which Carsdale saved him the +trouble of reading and drew his first cheque in London, +and subsequently walked out with his guide and mentor, +feeling that he was now an actual denizen of the great +city.</p> + +<p>“You made things very easy for me,” he said, in the +fulness of his gratitude. “I really don’t know what I +should have done without you!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! you’ll soon learn how to do things for yourself,” +laughed Carsdale. “The in and outs of London life are +quickly learned by young men like you. Now, we’ve +plenty of time before evening, and I’ll introduce you to +three absolutely necessary people—the tailor, the bootmaker, +and the builder of shirts and such-like. And perhaps +we’ll throw in the hatter, and you’d better see about +fitting yourself out with what silver you want for your +table. They’re all together here in Bond Street or Saville +Row—come along!”</p> + +<p>They wound up the afternoon’s proceedings with a +quiet but remarkably good dinner at a certain establishment, +whereto one could repair, said Carsdale, without the +trouble of dressing, and by the time they had finished their +coffee the elder man had formed a very accurate estimate +of the younger one’s powers and capabilities. And Carsdale +was feeling very satisfied when he played his next +move in the game.</p> + +<p>“You won’t care for a music-hall or a theatre on this, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[49]</span>your first night,” he said. “What do you say to having +a quiet cigarette, and a talk at Mrs. Walsingham’s flat? +She’s a lonely woman, and she’ll be glad to see us.”</p> + +<p>Richard’s face betrayed his ready acceptance of this +proposition. And Carsdale smiled as he turned away to +reach for his hat.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[50]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VI<br> +<span class="large">MRS. WALSINGHAM AT HOME</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>It was one of the characteristic features of the daily life +at Leverton & Carsdale’s that only two people in the place +kept regular hours. Mr. Barclay Leverton, when he was +living, was a fairly methodical man, and might be +depended upon in the matter of finding him at his desk by +ten and still there at five, and when he made appointments +he usually kept them. But Carsdale was uncertain, +erratic, irresponsible, a very <i>ignis fatuus</i> of a man upon +occasion. He would sometimes startle the charwoman by +walking, or, rather, rushing, in before eight o’clock; he +would sometimes remain at his desk until midnight; sometimes +he would stay away from Abbotsbury House for +days together; he was utterly undependable as regards +anything but appointments which particularly appealed to +him, and it was quite in accordance with his way of doing +things to bring an unprofitable caller into his room, bid +him be seated, and then go out, to return hours later, or +not at all. And just as independent in the matter of +hours was Mrs. Walsingham. She was supposed to come +at ten and to leave at six; she arrived when she liked and +departed when she pleased, and Miss Rousby, typist, and +Master Griffkin, office-boy, envied and hated her because +of her liberty. For they were required to be in attendance +at nine-thirty and to remain until six, and it not +seldom happened that Griffkin was further subjected to +the indignity of having to carry urgent messages somewhere +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[51]</span>just when he should have been exchanging his livery +of blue and silver for the humbler mufti in which he came +and went from the parental roof-tree in Kennington.</p> + +<p>“Seems to me,” observed Griffkin, late in the afternoon +which witnessed Richard Shrewsbury’s introduction +to London by Mr. John Carsdale, “seems to me that +there’s two, and two only, as runs this here establishment, +and no error!”</p> + +<p>He was folding and stamping circulars, which Miss +Rousby was wearily addressing, and he looked at the +typist with an expression which gave and demanded sympathy.</p> + +<p>“Who?” inquired Miss Rousby, apathetically. “Who?”</p> + +<p>“Who? Why, me and you,” answered Griffkin. +“Carsdale, he’s in and out like one of them figures in a +weather-glass—you know, where there’s an old man one +side, and an old woman the other—and he don’t do nothing +but talk, as I can see of, and as for her”—here he +jerked a scornful thumb at the door through which Mrs. +Walsingham had departed at five o’clock—“I should like +to know what she does except twist them shiners round +her fingers, and make her silk gown crackle. Yah! As +for Leverton, he was a bit of a grafter, but he’s dead and +gone.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” assented Miss Rousby. “Yes—he’s gone. The +last place I was in, there was a principal died while I +was there. He left us all ten pounds each to buy mourning +with.”</p> + +<p>“Garn!” exclaimed Griffkin. “What, ten quid to buy +black with!”</p> + +<p>“It’s a fact,” answered Miss Rousby. “Of course, we +didn’t lay out the whole of the ten pounds on mourning. +I bought a crêpe gown and a new hat and a new pair of +shoes—two pounds I spent on that lot—and I put the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[52]</span>rest in the Post-Office. P’r’aps Mr. Leverton’ll have +left us something.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes!” said Griffkin, scornfully. “Yes, I don’t +think! Ain’t I been here a whole year, and never had +a rise? ’Tween you and me, now that Leverton’s dropped +out, I shall seriously consider my position. ’Cause why? +’Cause in my opinion, and if you ask me, Carsdale and +Her’ll go into partnership. And I don’t know about Her—I +ain’t so keen about retaining my post if she’s going +to be a principal.”</p> + +<p>“She couldn’t be much more of a principal than she +is now,” said Miss Rousby, dismally surveying the pile of +circulars at her side, “and she does more and more as she +likes every day. When I first came here she’d have +stopped and helped me to get these prospectuses off, instead +of which she goes peacocking out at five o’clock. I +shall be ten minutes late.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and your young man a-waiting at the top of the +street,” remarked Griffkin. “However, I’ll do yer a +good turn, Miss Rousby. I’ll give him the office, see, when +I run to catch the six post.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham had seen good reason to leave business +at five o’clock that evening, for Carsdale, in spite +of his busy adventures in the neighbourhood of Bond +Street, had found time to ring her up on the telephone, +and to warn her that he meant to bring Richard round +to call upon her after dinner, and she desired to have a +little time in which to prepare for the visit. Moreover, +she was one of those rare women who understand the +virtues of proper and regular meals, and she never allowed +anything to interfere with her arrangements in that respect. +If, therefore, she was required to give an extra +half-hour to her evening toilette, she must take half an +hour out of her working afternoon. That was a proper +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[53]</span>adjustment of things—and so she repaired to her favourite +restaurant in Soho, where she was so well known +that a certain table was sacred to her, and she ate and +drank calmly and reflected philosophically, and eventually +repaired to her flat to don her prettiest gown in honour +of the young gentleman who possessed three hundred +thousand pounds in solid cash.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham’s flat was situated in one of the vast +buildings which recent years have seen spring into existence +in the neighbourhood that lies between Bloomsbury +and the Tottenham Court Road. People who were privileged +to enjoy Mrs. Walsingham’s friendship and acquaintance +considered it the very model of what a flat +should be which serves to house a single lady and her maid, +and were apt to wax enthusiastic over its arrangement and +its simple luxury of appointment. For Mrs. Walsingham +possessed considerable ideas in the way of taste and refinement; +she had definite notions about such matters as +colour schemes, about such ordinary things as floor carpets +and window curtains; she knew a good print from a +bad one; she was careful never to overload her walls, and +her book-cases were filled with excellent specimens of +the binder’s art; like herself, her surroundings were +dainty and elegant; the light, whether natural or artificial, +was always properly graduated in her rooms, and +one came away from them feeling as if one had spent an +hour in an ancient church behind windows of mellowed +glass. And Mr. John Carsdale said as much to Richard +Shrewsbury as they drove away from the quiet restaurant +at which they had dined.</p> + +<p>“When I have had a hard day, and want peace, I always +go to see Mrs. Walsingham,” he remarked. “Mrs. Walsingham +is one of those clever women who can entertain +a man without talking his head off.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[54]</span>“She looks clever,” said Richard, who was at loss for +words and accordingly took refuge in a safe observation.</p> + +<p>“One of the cleverest women in London,” said Mr. Carsdale, +with conviction. “One of the very few women who +understand finance. I would rather trust Mrs. Walsingham’s +judgment on a big money affair, than that of most +men in the City. And I know a good lot of ’em!”</p> + +<p>Richard conquered his shyness and made a desperate +plunge.</p> + +<p>“Is there a—shall we meet a Mr. Walsingham?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>Carsdale shook his head and assumed an expression of +sympathy.</p> + +<p>“Ah, no!” he answered. “Mrs. Walsingham is a +widow. Hers is a sad story—most romantic, really. +Early marriage—very early, much too early!—runaway +marriage, in fact, with a handsome, fascinating man—a +great traveller and globe-trotter, Walsingham. Got an +insane idea into his head that he could penetrate to some +extraordinary place somewhere between Arabia and Persia—ass +enough to try it and to take his young wife with +him. Got into a row with natives—very domineering and +pertinacious man, Walsingham—with sad result—shot, +murdered, in fact, in her presence. She escaped only +through friendly offices of powerful Sheik, who rallied his +men round him and got her down to coast on board British +man-of-war in Persian Gulf. Came home naturally distracted, +and turned to business, and especially to financial +matters, as a relief, you know. Five years ago, that is—little +more than a girl now, but as I say, one of the keenest +and most astute women in London.”</p> + +<p>Richard was still pondering over this romantic story +when they arrived at Mrs. Walsingham’s flat to be admitted +by a very smart maid and received by Mrs. Walsingham +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[55]</span>herself in a tiny drawing-room, the light of which was +carefully contrived to show off the hostess’s charms and +evening toilette to the best advantage. He looked about +him as Carsdale plunged into voluble accounts of their +doings during the afternoon, and determined that he would +ask Mrs. Walsingham’s advice about buying books and +pictures. Much as he trusted Carsdale, he felt instinctively +that the lady’s taste was superior to the gentleman’s, +and he began to understand what Carsdale meant when he +said that he visited her in quest of peace after a hard day’s +work.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham, it was very evident, knew how to entertain +guests who happened to be of the opposite sex. She +had a cabinet of eminently choice cigarettes, of many brands +and all of the most superfine quality, and as soon as Carsdale +and Richard were comfortably seated, the smart +maid (who was almost as pretty as her mistress and nearly +as clever looking) brought in whiskey and soda. And +Richard was quick to see that Carsdale was very much +at home, and he began to wonder if he was aspiring to fill +the place of the late adventurous and much-to-be-pitied +Mr. Walsingham, and finally (though he could not for the +life of him have told why) decided that he was not, and +he listened to his rattling tongue and to Mrs. Walsingham’s +lazy but shrewd comments, and came to the conclusion +that all this was very pleasant, and that Mrs. Walsingham +was the prettiest woman he had ever seen in his life. And +at the end of half an hour in came the smart maid with the +quiet announcement that somebody was asking for Mr. +Carsdale over the telephone.</p> + +<p>Carsdale uttered an anathema with an emphasis which +sounded very real, and went out. He presently returned, +making a face expressive of disgust.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have to go,” he said. “That’s Robinson. He’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[56]</span>just come in from Paris, and he’s waiting for me at the +<i>Charing Cross Hotel</i>, and, of course, has been ringing me +up all over the place. Sorry Mrs. Walsingham, but it’s +of the highest importance, as you know. All the same, +there’s no need to drag you away, Shrewsbury.”</p> + +<p>“Of course not,” said Mrs. Walsingham. “And I think +it’s very foolish of you to let people know where you’re +likely to be found.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale muttered something about the necessities of +business, and with a hasty adieu and an admonition to +Richard to be sure to remember where he lived, hurried +off. And Mrs. Walsingham sighed, as if deprecating such +ridiculous energy at that hour of the evening, and she +settled herself in her cushions and lighted another cigarette, +and turned to her guest with an expression which +seemed in some subtle fashion to suggest that now that the +bustling Carsdale was gone they could enjoy a little peace.</p> + +<p>“And how do you like London?” she asked with the +indulgence of an elderly person who asks a child how its +new toy pleases it.</p> + +<p>“Very much,” answered Richard, quite simply. “But—I +don’t realize it yet. It’s so big. You see, until I came +here, I never saw a bigger town than Port-of-Spain.”</p> + +<p>“And that is—where?” asked Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“It is the capital of Trinidad, where our sugar plantations +were,” answered Richard. “It is a fine town, +but I suppose you could put it into London—oh, I don’t +know how many times. And at first, as I knew nobody +here, I thought I should be desperately lonely.”</p> + +<p>“And now?” said Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how one ought to be lonely, when there are +so many people,” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“One can be as lonely amongst all these millions as if +one were living in—in the Arctic Regions,” observed Mrs. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[57]</span>Walsingham. “Oh, I know it—I myself, know very few +people. I was delighted that Mr. Carsdale brought you +to-night—do come again. Is it really true that you don’t +know anybody in London?”</p> + +<p>“Quite true,” replied Richard. “At least, I know a +few cricketers who came out to play in the West Indies—I +dare say I shall meet them somewhere or other. No, I +don’t know anybody. But there’s a man coming home—he’ll +be here in another month—whom I know pretty well. +I’m looking forward awfully keenly to seeing him—he’s +a fine chap—Burgoyne, the explorer, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes!” said Mrs. Walsingham. “I saw something +about him in the evening paper. He’d been lost, and he’s +turned up again, hasn’t he? So you know him?”</p> + +<p>“He stopped with us once for a week or two—four years +ago,” answered Richard. “He’s a great man—I saw the +paper, too, and I was awfully glad to hear he was alive: +everybody thought he’d never turn up again. I shall +look him up as soon as ever he lands—I don’t think +there’ll be much difficulty about finding him, because he’ll +be quite famous.”</p> + +<p>“That will very nice for you,” said Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>Then she cleverly turned the conversation to Richard +himself and drew him out to talk of his likes and his +wishes, of his life in Trinidad and of such modest ambitions +as he had, and she was so sympathetic and so understanding, +and so subtly clever in saying the right word +and suggesting proper appreciation, that the youngster +was drawn to speak freely and unreservedly, and eventually +went away in a seventh heaven of satisfaction, +having already promised to come and see Mrs. Walsingham +whenever he liked, and arranged to take her out to dinner +and to the theatre as soon as ever his tailor had got +his dress-clothes ready. And when he had gone Mrs. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[58]</span>Walsingham mixed herself a whiskey-and-soda and lighted +a cigarette and became very thoughtful as she contemplated +herself in the mirror.</p> + +<p>“So he knows Burgoyne!” she mused. “And—they’re +sure to meet, sure. And—then? But there’s a whole +month yet, and a month is—a month.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[59]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VII<br> +<span class="large">CARSDALE’S CAREFULNESS</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>One of Richard Shrewsbury’s first thoughts as he drove +across Waterloo Bridge on the morning of his arrival in +London had been a disquieting, if not an alarming one. +He knew nobody; he did not know what to do with himself; +how would he pass his time? It was true that he +came from a clime wherein natural conditions incline men +to indolence and lassitude from their birth, but he was +young and the English blood in him demanded liveliness +and action, and he was concerned to think at that moment +that he saw no immediate outlet for his vitality. Until +his meeting with John Carsdale he had felt as an enterprising +bee might feel which has got into a bottle, and +can see mighty possibilities through its crystal walls without +a clear notion of how to get at them.</p> + +<p>But after that first eventful and exciting day in town, +Richard realized that however lonely and friendless a +young man may be when he comes to London for the first +time, he will not long be so, nor will he be long unoccupied, +if he happens to have wealth at his hourly disposal. He +was astonished to find how very busy he became at once. +There were such a lot of things to attend to, and they were +all of a pleasant nature. It was great fun to settle down +to housekeeping; to dispose and re-arrange his rooms to +his own liking; he even found an engrossing novelty in +ordering his breakfasts. For a fortnight he was much +occupied with the folk who were busily engaged in beautifying +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[60]</span>and adorning his outer man; the result of their +labours, under Carsdale’s counsel, was that the young +gentleman found himself one of the best-dressed men about +town and that Kedgin had a mighty wardrobe to superintend +and keep in order. And there were more intellectual +matters than clothes and shirts and boots and hats and +gloves to consider and deal with—aided by Carsdale and +advised by Mrs. Walsingham, he bought pictures and +books and old china, and they took care that all he bought +was good. Accordingly, his walls were hung with excellent +examples, and his open cases were filled with standard +works in fine bindings, and as he had a natural love +for good reading and a sympathetic, if untrained eye for +sound Art, he was well pleased; as to the cabinets of china +which Mrs. Walsingham arranged for him in his drawing-room, +he did not understand them, but Carsdale had impressed +upon him that nothing is so good for a young man +as the cultivation of good taste in such things, and Richard +believed him and viewed his cups and saucers with great +awe. After all, it was a delightful thing to be young, and +to have money, and to surround oneself with the evidences +of luxury.</p> + +<p>That it was easy to spend money when you have it to +spend, Richard discovered very quickly indeed. Carsdale +told him that he might just as well fit himself up +thoroughly while he was about it: with his income there +was no need for him to stint himself. He must have a +couple of horses; Carsdale knew exactly where they could +be bought and where they could be kept at livery after +they were bought, and Richard was presently seen in the +Row, where shrewd eyes valued his mounts at nothing less +than two hundred guineas apiece. Also, he must have a +motor-car; Carsdale knew where to get that, too, and got it—a +beautiful car, which cost about three times as much +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[61]</span>as the two hunters when it was finished and fitted with all +the proper luxuries. Then it was necessary to engage a +chauffeur; Carsdale found the very man, and Richard +hired him at a comfortable weekly wage. He had now +got an abode, and servants, and horses, and a motor-car—he +must now have his club, said Carsdale, so that he would +have somewhere to turn when he felt to need change from +whatever he was doing. And Carsdale got him into two +clubs, both of a social nature, but one rather more inclined +to sport and lightness than the other; it was always +an excellent idea, said Carsdale, to have at any rate two +clubs, and of a different nature, so that if you got bored +in one of them, you could step round for relief to its contrast. +And Richard accepted all that his mentor advised, +and he was well pleased and much occupied with his new +duties and his amusements during those first weeks in +England, and he considered Carsdale a veritable walking +compendium of all requisite knowledge.</p> + +<p>Carsdale let the young gentleman settle down before he +entered upon the subject of investments. He knew where +Richard’s three hundred thousand pounds lay, and that +its owner had it at immediate disposal. It was in the +hands of a firm of very solemn and serious private bankers, +and Carsdale was well aware that the principals would +keep an eye on their youthful client’s goings-on. And so, +when at last he gave up a whole morning to Richard in +his private room at Abbotsbury House, in order to advise +on the question of what should be done with the Shrewsbury +fortune, he had no wild-cat schemes to propose, no +daring adventure to undertake. In short, he had already +arranged for the investment of a quarter of a million in +certain securities, a list of which he had carefully prepared. +He went over that list with Richard, item by item, +detailing and explaining. Richard understood little of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[62]</span>details or explanations; what he did understand was that +from the two hundred and fifty thousand pounds thus invested +in what Mr. Carsdale called gilt-edged securities, +he would derive an annual income of fifteen thousand +pounds.</p> + +<p>“Which, in your present bachelor state of life, is quite +enough for you to spend,” commented Carsdale. “When +you contemplate matrimony we may think of increasing it. +But you won’t spend it.”</p> + +<p>“Spend fifteen thousand a year!” exclaimed Richard. +“I should think not. Why, I’ve got an exact account of +every penny I’ve spent since I came, and—oh, I couldn’t +spend fifteen thousand a year.”</p> + +<p>“Good boy!” said Carsdale, with a dry cough. “Don’t +try to spend it. Some accomplishments, Shrewsbury, are +very easily learned. However, I have noted, with great +satisfaction, that you have no great desire to own race-horses, +frequent gaming-houses, or to cultivate the society +of young women of the musical comedy order. Keep off +all these, my son, and you will do well. And now, back +to business. You are not going to invest your quarter of +a million in these securities solely on my advice, though, +as I tell you, I have arranged everything for you, because +you will so invest it. But first—have you ever yet called on +your bankers?”</p> + +<p>“Never. I’ve never had time,” replied Richard.</p> + +<p>“Very good—but they’ll no doubt be delighted to see +you,” said Carsdale. “Now follow my instructions. +Take this list in your hand. Get into your car—go down +to the City—see your bankers. Tell them that on the advice +of your friend, Mr. John Carsdale, of Norfolk Street, +you are about to make these investments at once. Ask +them if they approve. Tell them that if they do, the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[63]</span>transactions will be completed forthwith, and that you will +subsequently hand over your securities to them for safe +keeping. Be off, now, and then come back to me with +your report.”</p> + +<p>And Richard went down to the City, and saw two grave, +yet much interested gentlemen, who appeared to know +nothing of Mr. John Carsdale of Norfolk Street, but were +at one in expressing high approval of the manner in which +he proposed to invest a quarter of a million of their customer’s +money. For everything that figured on Carsdale’s +list was thoroughly good and sound, and they were +rejoiced to know that the young man was not going to be +led away into wild-goose chases, or persuaded to set up a +racing establishment, and they told him frankly that he +could not do better than follow his friend’s advice.</p> + +<p>“Just so,” said Carsdale when Richard went back with +his report. “That shows what sensible men they are. +Now we will get all this put through, and then you will +be fully settled down and know what your income is, and +all will be plain sailing, so long as you never spend more +than nineteen and elevenpence in every pound.”</p> + +<p>“What about the rest of the money?” said Richard, +who was beginning to feel a faint excitement in financial +matters.</p> + +<p>“What rest?” asked Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“There’s a lot more at the bankers,” replied Richard. +“They had three hundred and seven thousand pounds of +mine when I came. I’ve spent about three thousand since +I came, one way or another, so there’s still about fifty +thousand and more in their hands when these investments +are made. What’s to be done with that?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, leave it as it is for a while,” answered Carsdale. +“It is always well to have a good cash balance at your +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[64]</span>bankers. You’re all right for the time being. But if you +like you can put ten thousand in my hands—to play with.”</p> + +<p>“To what?” asked Richard.</p> + +<p>“To play with,” repeated Carsdale. “I constantly +know of small affairs which are worth putting a thousand +or two into, even a few hundreds into, for a while—sometimes +one can make as much as fifty per cent. on such +transactions. Leave ten thousand with me, and we’ll see +what comes of it at the end of the year.”</p> + +<p>And Richard agreed readily, for he regarded Carsdale +as something like a past master in finance, and that afternoon +Carsdale paid in ten thousand pounds to his own +private banking account. He was just then in clover, for +he had received handsome commissions from all the people +to whom he had brought business in connection with +Richard, and he had wound up his partnership with the +late Barclay Leverton’s representatives on terms which +were eminently satisfactory to himself, and he saw a bright +future immediately in front of him. He was now whole +and sole master of the suite of offices at the top of Abbotsbury +House; the name of Leverton had disappeared from +the swinging doors and the roll of tenants in the hall, and +Frances came no longer to look into books and letters and +ask questions which had sometimes been inconvenient to +answer. Carsdale was now busier than ever; he began to +develop a new class of business, and the smaller fry of +his clients found it increasingly difficult to see him. Even +Mrs. Walsingham found it a little puzzling when she tried +to reckon up his courses.</p> + +<p>“I don’t quite know what you’re after,” she said one +day when she was closeted with him in his office. “Since +young Shrewsbury came on the scene you seem to have +developed a desire for severe respectability in your transactions.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[65]</span>“Quite right,” said Carsdale. “Young Shrewsbury was +precisely what I wanted. I did myself more good by +sending him down to his bankers with that list of securities +than you can realize. That action conferred distinction +and credit on me. Why, I met one of them at a meeting +at the <i>Cannon Street Hotel</i> the other day, and he actually +condescended to compliment me on the excellent advice I +had given to a young and inexperienced gentleman, and, +in parting gave me two fingers to shake! What do you +think of that, Sylvie?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you want to increase in virtue and respectability +until some big wig in the City stops to shake hands—not +fingers—with you in full view of all Lombard +Street,” replied Mrs. Walsingham. “All right—so long +as it pays.”</p> + +<p>“It pays,” said Carsdale. “You can’t extend the ægis +of protection to a youngster who possesses three hundred +thousand pounds and doesn’t spend half his income without +benefiting yourself. I tell you, it’s a valuable asset +to me to be in a position to show with what care, perspicuity, +zealous attention to his safeguards and interests I +have husbanded the youngster’s harvest!”</p> + +<p>“Picking up a few stray gleanings here and there,” +said Mrs. Walsingham, with a silvery laugh.</p> + +<p>“You’ve as many chances in the harvest field as I +have,” laughed Carsdale. “He seems to be in constant +touch with you.”</p> + +<p>In that Carsdale was right. Richard had quickly fallen +into the habit of repairing to Mrs. Walsingham regularly. +He made excuses at first; he wanted advice about where to +hang a picture; how to have a set of books bound; how to +do this, that, and the other; presently he took it quite as +a matter of course that he should see her every day. He +was always taking her to dinner, to the theatre, to the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[66]</span>opera. When the motor-car came into his life he began +to take her out into the country on Sundays; at first Carsdale +went with them; later, he excused himself. And +without knowing how or why, Richard became Mrs. Walsingham’s +shadow, and the motor-car was often seen +carrying them both away from the door of Abbotsbury +House at hours in the afternoon whereat Mrs. Walsingham, +according to the ideas of Miss Rousby and Mr. Griffkin, +should still have been at her desk.</p> + +<p>“But Carsdale, he don’t say a word,” remarked Griffkin. +“It don’t matter to him whether she goes at five or +four.”</p> + +<p>“The question is, dare he say a word?” observed Miss +Rousby with sinister significance. “Some people in this +world can do what they like—they can twist other people +round their fingers as—as——”</p> + +<p>“As she twists them shiners round her fingers,” suggested +Griffkin. “You’re right!”</p> + +<p>In this fashion, and in these pursuits Richard’s first +few weeks in London passed away and saw him settle into +a luxurious and easy-going existence. Of no particular +vices, of no vast ambition, generous of nature, and a little +inclined to let things come and go as they would, he had +no fault to find with his lot. It was pleasant and placid.</p> + +<p>And then, one morning, as he was chatting with Mrs. +Walsingham and Carsdale in Carsdale’s private room, +Griffkin opened the door, and announced Captain Ralph +Burgoyne.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[67]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER VIII<br> +<span class="large">A PLEDGE REDEEMED</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>If there had been another person present in Carsdale’s +office, quick-eyed enough to have taken in everything +at a glance, he would have seen that Griffkin’s announcement +produced a different effect on each of the three people +who heard it. Carsdale himself looked frankly astonished; +Mrs. Walsingham, in spite of her sedulous training +of herself, could not repress a slight start of surprise nor +keep down a little heightening of colour. But Richard +Shrewsbury jumped to his feet with an exclamation of +boyish enthusiasm and made for the door.</p> + +<p>“It’s Burgoyne!” he almost shouted. “Burgoyne, you +know, the explorer! I told you about him, Mrs. Walsingham—he’s +home sooner than they said. Don’t you +know him, Carsdale?—shan’t I bring him in?”</p> + +<p>“Bring Captain Burgoyne in by all means,” said Carsdale, +rising. “I haven’t the pleasure of knowing him, but—what +does the boy mean?” he continued, turning to Mrs. +Walsingham as Richard impatiently dashed out of the +room. “Does he know him?”</p> + +<p>“He knew him in Trinidad,” answered Mrs. Walsingham, +rapidly. “Burgoyne stayed with his father. I +fancy,” she said, glancing at the door, and speaking still +more rapidly and in a low voice, “I fancy that Burgoyne +came to see Leverton. Leverton once brought him in here +about three years ago, when you were away. Try to find +out what he wants.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[68]</span>Carsdale was quick enough to catch some hidden meaning +in Mrs. Walsingham’s tone. He nodded his head +sharply.</p> + +<p>“All right,” he said. “Don’t go. Let’s see, this chap +has just come home from South America, eh? I remember.”</p> + +<p>Outside, Richard was vigorously shaking the hand of a +big, bronzed man who looked at him with good-humoured +surprise. Also he was jerking out boyish exclamations +of delight. The big man laughed.</p> + +<p>“Bless me, so it’s really young Dick!” he said when he +could put a word in. “Well, you’ve grown, youngster. +But what are you doing here?”</p> + +<p>“I live in London, of course,” said Richard. “I—oh, +I’ll tell you all about it afterwards. By Jove!—I am glad +to see you, Burgoyne—but I didn’t know you’d landed—I +was going to run down to Southampton to meet you. +Come in, do!”</p> + +<p>“What, are these your offices?” said Burgoyne, looking +about him. “I came to see Mr. Barclay Leverton.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Leverton is dead, but here is my friend Mr. Carsdale, +who can tell you anything you want to know,” said +Richard, dragging the explorer through the outer office, +where Miss Rousby and Griffkin, quite aware of his identity, +stared at him with veneration. “Come and be introduced +to him—and to my friend Mrs. Walsingham, too.”</p> + +<p>Captain Burgoyne suffered himself to be led into Carsdale’s +room and to be subjected to the ceremonies of introduction, +and he took a chair and looked around him +with a smile.</p> + +<p>“This is a little surprising,” he said. “I did not expect +to meet an old friend here. I came to see Mr. +Leverton, and I am sorry to hear that he is dead. Did it +happen—recently?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[69]</span>“Mr. Leverton has been dead six weeks,” replied Carsdale. +“He had been ill for some weeks, but he died very +suddenly at last. Can I do anything for you, Captain +Burgoyne? I was in partnership with Mr. Leverton. +But perhaps your business with him was of a private nature?”</p> + +<p>“Why, it was,” answered Captain Burgoyne “Yes——oh, +yes, it was a private affair. The fact was, he had +certain property of mine in his hands, and I—well, I want +it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes?” said Carsdale. He was wondering to what +the visitor could possibly refer, and he found difficulty in +surmising. “Mr. Leverton, of course, had affairs of which +I knew nothing,” he remarked.</p> + +<p>“Just so,” responded Captain Burgoyne. “Perhaps +his executors——”</p> + +<p>“You had better call on his solicitor,” said Carsdale, +who saw no object in withholding information which any +one could acquire without difficulty. “Mr. Septimus +Winch, 250A, New Square, Lincoln’s Inn. I’ll write it +down for you. Mr. Winch removed all Leverton’s private +belongings from his room here some weeks ago.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, thanks—I’ll step around there,” said Captain +Burgoyne, taking the slip of paper which Carsdale handed +to him. He rose and glanced at Richard with a smile. +“Where shall I find you again, Dick?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I’m coming out with you,” said Richard. “I say, +look here—I’m going to fix up a dinner now that you’ve +come home, Burgoyne—for the four of us here, eh? What +day will suit you?”</p> + +<p>“I must look at my diary,” said Burgoyne, with a smile +at Carsdale. “I’m pretty busy.”</p> + +<p>“Shrewsbury forgets that you’re a public character,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[70]</span>said Carsdale. “He’s not the only man that has a claim +on you.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he shall monopolize me for an hour, at any rate,” +said Burgoyne, laughing. He took Richard’s arm as they +went out, and gave it a friendly squeeze. “And what +are you doing here, youngster?” he asked. “I never expected +to set eyes on you, you know!”</p> + +<p>“My father’s dead, and so I came to England, and here +I am,” answered Richard. “I’ve got rooms in Berkeley +Square, and you must come and see me—come to breakfast +to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think I can do that,” replied Burgoyne. “Ah, +and so your good father’s dead, Dick. He was a fine man, +and a kind host. And of course you’ve come in for all +the money, and I hope it’s in safe hands.”</p> + +<p>“Safe as—as the Bank of England,” answered Richard +shortly. “Carsdale, there, invested it, and my bankers +say there couldn’t be better investments.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” said Burgoyne. “Well, I’m come into +a fortune, too—got the news of it at Lima. That’s why +I came to seek Leverton. You never knew Leverton?”</p> + +<p>“No, he died the very day I came here,” said Richard. +“But my father did—they were old schoolfellows.”</p> + +<p>“Leverton was a good chap,” remarked Burgoyne. “He +was a member of a club to which I belonged till I went off. +And he lent me five thousand pounds towards the expenses +of my expedition—privately, you know. But I gave him +as security a certain diamond necklace which has been in +our family for a long time, and is said to have belonged to +Maria Louisa, Napoleon’s Empress. And now that I’m a +moneyed man, I want to repay that loan and get it back, +though a diamond necklace is something of a white elephant +to me. However, I suppose one ought not to lose +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[71]</span>old family possessions. Come with me, Dick, to see this +lawyer.”</p> + +<p>The clerk who carried Captain Burgoyne’s card to Mr. +Winch returned quickly to say that his principal would +see Captain Burgoyne at once, and he ushered the callers +with great reverence to Mr. Winch’s room. And Richard, +closely following the famous explorer, saw an old gentleman +standing in a quaint room, and at his side a young +lady in deep mourning, and he perceived that both regarded +Captain Burgoyne with deep interest.</p> + +<p>“My dear sir!” exclaimed Mr. Winch. “My dear sir! +I am delighted to see you, and I can guess the object of +your visit, which is most fortunately timed. This lady, +my dear Captain Burgoyne, is the daughter of our late +friend, Mr. Barclay Leverton.”</p> + +<p>Richard pricked up his ears. He suddenly remembered +with a feeling of deep shame, that he had completely forgotten +to send his condolences to the Leverton family, even +to send flowers to lay on the coffin of his father’s old +friend. He had meant to do both, but in the bustle and +hurry of those first days in London, he had forgotten to +do either. Even now he was quite in ignorance of what +family Barclay Leverton had left, for neither Carsdale +nor Mrs. Walsingham ever spoke of the dead man or his +belongings. But here, at any rate, was Leverton’s daughter, +and he looked at her with interest, and all the more +closely because she herself was looking at Burgoyne. And +presently he found himself being introduced to her, and +he was conscious of becoming very shy—and after that +he was relegated to the shades, for the old lawyer and the +young lady and the explorer began to talk business.</p> + +<p>“My dear sir,” said Mr. Winch, who seemed to be +particularly delighted to see Captain Burgoyne, “I may +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[72]</span>save time by telling you that Miss Leverton and myself +are fully aware of the transaction which took place between +her father and yourself. I recently heard of your +own good fortune, and I don’t suppose that I am wrong +when I say that I gather you have called for your historic +necklace.”</p> + +<p>“Quite right, sir,” answered Burgoyne. “And—incidentally—to +pay my debt. I wish I could have paid it +to Mr. Leverton,” he added, with a quick glance at +Frances, “but—he knew I was greatly obliged to him.”</p> + +<p>Frances gave the explorer a grateful look.</p> + +<p>“And my father was very anxious that you should have +your necklace back again in safety, Captain Burgoyne,” +she said. “He took particular pains, only the night before +his death, to let me know what he wished done. I +should like Captain Burgoyne to see the memoranda,” +she continued, turning to Mr. Winch. “They will show +him what my father’s intentions were.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, of course,” said the solicitor. “Yes, my +dear sir, although the time for repayment of my late +client’s loan to you is almost expired, your property would +have been safe for at least another year. The necklace +is deposited at my bank, Captain Burgoyne, and I will +send my managing clerk for it at once. In the meantime, +here are the memoranda which Miss Leverton speaks of—the +notes are in her handwriting in that paper, and in my +late client’s in the other. You see what his intentions +were?”</p> + +<p>Captain Burgoyne saw, and made a graceful acknowledgment +to the dead man’s daughter, begging her to accept +the thanks which he would have given to her father had he +been alive. And then he handed over a cheque to Mr. +Winch, and presently the managing clerk came back from +the bank with the sealed parcel which Mr. Winch and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[73]</span>Frances had deposited there. Burgoyne was for dropping +it carelessly into his pocket, but Mr. Winch loudly +protested against such an unbusiness-like course—that, he +said, would never do; Captain Burgoyne must see that +his valuable property was safe and sound. So the parcel +was undone, and the diamond necklace brought to light, +and Mr. Winch entreated its owner to bestow it in an +inner pocket, and to keep a jealous hold on it, lest any +of the light-fingered gentry should steal it from him.</p> + +<p>“For I have no doubt, my dear sir,” he added, in his +mysteriously confidential manner, “I have no doubt that +the object which you so lightly handle is worth a good +deal more than the amount which you have just paid to +me, quite apart from its historical associations, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I believe so,” answered Burgoyne. “I have always +been led to understand so, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>Then he began to make his adieux, once more thanking +Frances on her father’s behalf, and he and Richard prepared +to depart. But it turned out that Miss Leverton +and Mr. Winch were just then going out, too, and they +all went down the stairs together, and, as luck would have +it, Richard found himself at the girl’s side. And conquering +his shyness with a violent effort, he turned and addressed +her.</p> + +<p>“I was so sorry to hear of your father’s death,” he said +abruptly. “Awfully sorry!”</p> + +<p>Frances turned and looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>“You knew my father?” she said.</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Richard. “No. But my father did—they +were at school together. And when I came to +England I wrote to your father as soon as I landed at +Southampton, and I called at his office next morning—it +was the very morning he died. And so, of course, I never +saw him—and I’m awfully sorry.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[74]</span>Frances looked at him in still greater surprise.</p> + +<p>“You wrote to my father?” she said. “Then—who +got the letter?”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Richard. “Carsdale got the letter. It +was, of course, more or less of a business letter, you know—a +letter asking your father’s advice about investments and +so on. And Carsdale’s been most kind—awfully kind—you +know him, of course? He said at once that he’d like +to do for me all that your father would have done for his +old friend’s son, and so he has—I don’t know what I should +have done without Carsdale. Nor without Mrs. Walsingham—I +suppose you know her, too? But all the same, I +was dreadfully disappointed not to see your father, and—I’m +an awfully poor hand at saying anything, Miss Leverton, +but mayn’t I call to—to see your mother, you know? +Your father and mine were at school together—you must +have heard him speak of Martin Shrewsbury?”</p> + +<p>He had hurried breathlessly through the last part of the +speech, for Mr. Winch was obviously waiting for the girl. +And she was showing signs of obvious confusion, not to +say perturbation, and there was a sudden flush on her face +as she suddenly turned to Richard.</p> + +<p>“I—very well—call at 7, Acacia Mansions, Maida Vale,” +she said. “Call—this afternoon—at four—if you like. +If not, to-morrow—any day.”</p> + +<p>“To-day,” said Richard. “To-day!”</p> + +<p>Then they parted, and Captain Burgoyne clapped his +young friend’s shoulder, and carried him off to lunch at +the <i>Carlton</i>.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[75]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER IX<br> +<span class="large">PLAIN SPEECH</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>In his own native island of Trinidad, Mr. Richard +Shrewsbury had never given much more than a momentary +attention to his garments, and he had wasted no time in +considering the cut and the colour of his neckties. The +conditions of climate, the fine carelessness of youth, had +rendered him indifferent and superior on points of attire—a +cool <i>négligé</i> in the matter of body raiment, a wide-spreading +Panama in the way of protection for his head, +had seemed to him all that was necessary. He had presented +himself at Carsdale’s in a neat blue serge suit, which +he himself was secretly very vain of, but which Carsdale +immediately perceived to be of colonial origin. Doubts +about the blue serge began to gather in Richard’s mind +when he looked at other young men, seen in London streets; +he grew uneasy when he examined Carsdale, who was +always scrupulously dressed; he became frightened when +Carsdale introduced him to a great professor of the sartorial +art in Saville Row. When that gentleman had done +with him, and had sent home to his Berkeley Square flat a +consignment of clothing which made even Mr. William +Kedgin open his well-accustomed eyes, Richard blossomed +out into the most particular and even finicking young man +about town. He was now as nice and as discriminating +about his clothes, his neckties, his linen, his everything, as +he had been careless in his previous stage of existence, and +Kedgin at times found him hard to please because of his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[76]</span>plethora of supply. The man who only possesses two suits +of clothes can quickly make up his mind as to which of +them he will wear; the possessor of two or three dozen suits +feels the dressing of himself an important affair, to be decided +and regulated by many other matters than the mere +accidents of weather. Richard’s wardrobe was shamefully +extensive, and there were enough neckties and gloves about +him to stock a haberdasher’s shop, and there were occasions +when Kedgin found it hard to decide on what was most +suitable because there were so many articles to choose from.</p> + +<p>But never, during those first few weeks of his descent +upon London, had Richard been so particular, so hard to +please, so intent upon being attired in the very pink of +perfection, as he was on the afternoon of the day which +restored Burgoyne to him. He had surprised the explorer +by hurrying away as soon as lunch was over: he surprised +Kedgin by the almost woman-like exigencies which he put +upon the resources of his toilet and his wardrobe. Kedgin +secretly wondered what his young master was after; when +he had at last turned him out in splendour from top to +toe, had followed him out to his motor-car, and had heard +Richard bid the chauffeur drive to Acacia Mansions, Maida +Vale, he indulged in a dry chuckle.</p> + +<p>“Maida Vale, eh?” said Kedgin as the car drove off. +“Ah, that’s where all the actresses live. So that’s it, is +it? I thought he’d be up to that game sooner or later. +He’ll begin to cultivate a taste in bookays, and chocolates, +and diamond rings now. Ah!—musical comedy, no +doubt.”</p> + +<p>The unconscious and innocent object of these speculations +sped on northwards, secretly hoping, as youths of +his age will, that he was so attired as to make a good +impression. He was aware that he was going to what +had very recently been a house of mourning; he had therefore +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[77]</span>endeavoured to make his grandeur very sober and +solemn. But he was very grand, in spite of his solemnity, +and the hall-porter, and the lift-boy, and everybody who +encountered him at Acacia Mansions, wondered what +youthful nobleman or foreign prince had penetrated to +Maida Vale from the haunts of fashion.</p> + +<p>A youthful and round-eyed maid, in a freshly starched +cap and apron, admitted Mr. Shrewsbury to Number +Seven, and having duly worshipped his clothes and secretly +admired his handsome and boyish face, ushered him into +a sitting-room, wherein, seated at an eminently business-like +looking desk, piled high with papers and books which +appeared to suggest financial, rather than literary matters, +sat Miss Frances Leverton, just then engaged in writing. +Near her, in a wide window-place made bright with flowers, +a young lady lay on a sofa; something in the pale face and +bright eyes which she turned on him as he entered told +Richard that she was either a confirmed invalid or a +cripple.</p> + +<p>Miss Leverton rose from her desk with all the composure +of a business woman, and gave the visitor one hand, while +she indicated a chair with the other. Then she introduced +the girl on the sofa as Miss Bryce, and motioned Richard +to sit down. There was something about her manner that +made Richard think of the formal fashion in which one is +received in places of mere business, and he began to feel +stiff and awkward, and very conscious of his elaborate +toilet, and he was not at all made more at his ease by Miss +Leverton’s first remark, nor by the very business-like way +in which she re-seated herself at her desk, put the tips of +her fingers together, and looked at him, he thought, as if +he had come to buy shares or give instructions for drawing +up a will.</p> + +<p>“We were so hurried this morning, Mr. Shrewsbury,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[78]</span>said a very cold and clear-cut voice, “that I could not do +more than tell you that you might call here. You asked +if you might call to see my mother. I may as well tell +you what you might have learnt elsewhere—that my +mother is dead, and that I am the sole representative of +the Leverton family. But I let you call because I wanted +to ask you one or two questions which I couldn’t very well +put to you on the steps of Mr. Winch’s office. Besides +you have given me a considerable surprise.”</p> + +<p>Richard felt as a small boy feels who is suddenly confronted +with a stern head-master and talked to in a tone +which he does not quite comprehend. He stole a glance +at the recumbent figure on the sofa, and saw that Miss +Bryce’s large eyes were fixed on a piece of fancy needle-work +on which her thin fingers were busily engaged. He +had hoped for some gleam of sympathy from her; getting +none, he turned to Miss Leverton, and became instantly +afraid of that young lady’s blue-grey eyes, which seemed +to look him remorselessly through and through. In Mr. +Winch’s office he had come to the conclusion that Frances +Leverton was the handsomest girl he had ever seen; it hurt +him now, in some strange, vague way, that she regarded +him, a mild, innocent youth, so very sternly. “I—I’m +awfully sorry!” he stammered. “I—really didn’t mean +to surprise you.”</p> + +<p>“You surprised me very much,” said Frances, with +emphasis. “I understood you to say that a letter which +you wrote to my father, and which arrived at his office on +the morning of his death, was opened and retained by Mr. +Carsdale?”</p> + +<p>“Ye—es, that’s so,” replied Richard. “You see——”</p> + +<p>“Can you tell me what you said in that letter?” demanded +Frances. “You can, of course. You said, down +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[79]</span>there at Mr. Winch’s, that it was more or less of a business +letter. Well, Mr. Shrewsbury?”</p> + +<p>Richard felt very uncomfortable. He experienced a +desire to wriggle; he became conscious that he was very hot +and had a tendency to perspire.</p> + +<p>“I—you see—I’m sure Carsdale, you know,” he began. +“You see, I shouldn’t like Carsdale to be blamed, because +Carsdale’s been very good to me, and——”</p> + +<p>“Can’t you remember what you said to my father in +that letter?” asked Frances, icily. “I think you can.”</p> + +<p>Richard pulled himself together, and by a strenuous +mental effort succeeded in remembering the grit and pith +of what he had written from the Southampton hotel to +Barclay Leverton. Frances listened to him without once +taking her eyes from his face.</p> + +<p>“So you call that a business letter, do you, Mr. Shrewsbury?” +she said with a subtle inflection of voice which +made Richard wince. “I don’t but that’s perhaps a matter +of opinion. As to Mr. John Carsdale’s taste in such +matters, the less said the better. But I was in my father’s +office at Abbotsbury House that very morning, and Mr. +Carsdale should have handed that letter to me. Surely, +you yourself see that.”</p> + +<p>“I—I understood that Mr. Carsdale was Mr. Leverton’s +partner,” said Richard, miserably. “He was, wasn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“He was, but not to the extent of sharing his private +letters,” answered Frances, coolly. “You meant your +letter to be confidential, didn’t you? You were writing +to your father’s old friend, weren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Richard. He looked up from the floor +with a whipped expression in his eyes. “I expect I’ve +made a mess of it,” he said, with a note of contrition that +caused Miss Bryce to smile. “Now you’ll go and think +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[80]</span>all sorts of things about Carsdale, and, as I’ve said, Carsdale’s +been awfully good to me.”</p> + +<p>“I am not used to thinking about Mr. Carsdale,” said +Frances. “I merely wished to know why a letter which +was my father’s private affair was retained by him. I +suppose I am right in concluding that when you wrote that +letter you intended to cultivate the friendship which had +previously existed between our families—or parents?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, oh, yes!” replied Richard, eagerly. “I was +awfully cut up to hear of Mr. Leverton’s death—I was, +indeed!”</p> + +<p>Frances looked at him with a little frown.</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember that you wrote to say so,” she said, +rather more frigidly than before.</p> + +<p>The girl on the sofa uttered a little deprecatory cough, +and Richard who kept eyeing her as hunted animals eye +a possible way of escape, saw a spot of colour light up on +the pale cheek which was next to him. He himself felt +uncomfortably hot. But the plain-tongued young lady +entrenched at the desk behind her books and papers looked +as cool and as imperturbable as ever.</p> + +<p>“No!” said Richard, very humbly. “I didn’t. I—meant +to. And then——”</p> + +<p>“And then, what with one thing or another, you forgot,” +said Frances, interrupting him. “All right, Mr. Shrewsbury, +it is no matter. But now that you are here, will you +be kind enough to take a message from me to your friend, +Mr. John Carsdale?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly!” said Richard, with great eagerness. “Of +course I will.”</p> + +<p>Frances smiled at his impetuousness.</p> + +<p>“Then tell Mr. Carsdale,” she said, watching her visitor +closely, “that I am quite aware from you of the circumstances +under which he opened and retained your letter +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[81]</span>to my father. Tell him, further, that if I ever catch him +dealing with any correspondence that comes to Abbotsbury +House in my father’s name, I will make London too hot to +hold him! Can you remember all that, Mr. Shrewsbury?”</p> + +<p>Richard’s face had flushed to a deeper red—he felt as +if the girl had smacked it.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said quietly. “I can remember all that, and, +as I said I would, I’ll carry the message. But—I’m sure +Carsdale acted with good intentions.”</p> + +<p>“Good intentions to himself,” said Frances. “I gather +that you’re a wealthy young man, Mr. Shrewsbury.”</p> + +<p>“I have a good deal of money,” answered Richard, +modestly.</p> + +<p>“Quite so. So that if that letter of yours had been +delivered to me, as it ought to have been, I might have had +a profitable client,” continued Frances. “Carsdale robbed +me of you.”</p> + +<p>Richard stared and started. He glanced at the business-like +looking desk, and Miss Leverton waved her hand over +it.</p> + +<p>“I still carry on my father’s concerns,” she said. “I +should have been glad to have you for a client. But that’s +Carsdale all over—I like you for standing up for him, but +you can’t expect me to forgive him for robbing me of +possible and profitable business. And I’ll make him smart +for it—I can, easily!—if he plays any more tricks on me +of that sort.”</p> + +<p>Richard began to fidget with his hat and cane.</p> + +<p>“I—I didn’t know,” he said lamely. “If I had +known——”</p> + +<p>“Of course you didn’t know,” interrupted Frances. +She turned to her papers, and then held out her hand. +“Well, good day,” she said. “I’m obliged to you for +clearing up the matter of the letter.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[82]</span>Richard took the firm, cool hand and dropped it in +sheer fright.</p> + +<p>“I—I—mayn’t I call again?” he asked desperately.</p> + +<p>“Why should you call again?” said Frances, looking +up. “Carsdale’s got your business.”</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t thinking of business,” said Richard, stoutly.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps Mr. Shrewsbury would like to call on Sunday—when +you don’t do any business, Frank,” suggested Miss +Bryce, with a smile at Richard.</p> + +<p>“Yes, oh, yes, thanks!” said Richard, with great eagerness. +“Mayn’t I?”</p> + +<p>Miss Leverton bent over her letter.</p> + +<p>“Well, Sunday afternoon, then,” she murmured.</p> + +<p>Then Richard somehow got himself out, and when he +had fairly gone, Miss Bryce spoke.</p> + +<p>“Frank!” she said. “You treated that poor boy abominably!”</p> + +<p>“Bosh!” retorted Miss Leverton. “It will do him good. +He won’t get honest, plain speech from Carsdale or from +that horrible woman down there at Abbotsbury House!”</p> + +<p>“You treated him abominably,” repeated Miss Bryce. +“And—he felt it. And why? Because, my dear, the +young man is in the way to fall in love with you! I saw +it—and I’m never mistaken!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[83]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER X<br> +<span class="large">NEWS FOR MRS. WALSINGHAM</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>By that time it was very seldom that Mrs. Walsingham +ever left the office alone; on four days out of the five Richard +and his car were waiting for her and the habitués of +Abbotsbury House and the Norfolk Street pavement had +grown accustomed to seeing her whisked off as if she were +some personage of high degree. She and young Mr. +Shrewsbury at that time, indeed, were enjoying themselves +a good deal in each other’s society. It was very much +pleasanter, during those warm summer days, to get into +a luxuriously-fitted car and to escape from London to +some country town twenty or thirty miles away, there to +dine amidst sylvan and shady surroundings, and afterwards +to spin back in the cool and purpling twilight, than +to be obliged to dress and to dine at fashionable +hotels and restaurants, wherein not all the artifice in the +world could produce the semblance of what an hour’s +journey could give. This daily arrangement had come to +be a fixed one—evening after evening Mr. Shrewsbury’s +car slid away into one or other of the home counties, +and later at night was to be seen outside the flats in which +Mrs. Walsingham resided, waiting until its owner had +smoked the cigarette to which he was always invited when +he had safely brought Mrs. Walsingham home.</p> + +<p>But on the afternoon of Richard’s visit to Acacia Mansions, +Mrs. Walsingham waited in vain for him—waited, +that is to say, for half an hour. There was no settled +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[84]</span>arrangement between them as to his coming, but it had +grown to be such a part of the day’s routine that she had +fully expected him, and at five o’clock was in readiness +to leave with him. But when, at half-past five, there were +no signs of him and no message, Mrs. Walsingham left the +office and set out for her favourite restaurant. After +what she called a long business day, she liked to dine as +near six o’clock as possible, and it was not within her +scheme of things that anybody or anything should interfere +with her dinner. So she made her way along the Strand +towards Leicester Square and Soho: she would dine +leisurely, she said to herself, and go home, secure in the +knowledge that Richard would present himself at the flat +sooner or later in the evening. She was in no wise +surprised that he had not come for her at five o’clock; +he was engaged, she concluded, with Captain Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>The thought of Captain Burgoyne suggested another +thought to Mrs. Walsingham, who had just then reached +the neighbourhood of Charing Cross. She glanced at her +watch, turned and, retracing her steps a little way, entered +a jeweller’s shop. It was a quiet high-class establishment, +the windows of which were set out with expensive goods, +but it was decorated, though unobtrusively, with three +gilt balls, and was, in fact, the business place of a fashionable +pawnbroker in whose breast many secrets were safely +locked.</p> + +<p>There was no one in the outer shop when Mrs. Walsingham +entered, save the proprietor and some assistants, +and at sight of her the proprietor came round the counter +and ushered her into a private room at the back of the +premises. Mrs. Walsingham dropped into the chair which +he politely offered her and unsnapped the patent catch +of the bag which she carried.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[85]</span>“I want to pay you the interest on that loan, Mr. +Wiertz,” she said. “It’s just about due, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Next week, I think,” replied Mr. Wiertz. “You want +to renew, again?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Mrs. Walsingham. She produced a +purse from her bag and drew out some bank-notes. Mr. +Wiertz sat down at a desk and began to write. Suddenly +he turned and looked at his visitor with an air of polite +meditation.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking of writing to you, Mrs. Walsingham,” +he said. “It was about those diamonds. Let’s see. I +lent you a thousand on them two years ago, didn’t I? Yes—well, +they are worth seven or eight times that, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I know,” answered Mrs. Walsingham, regarding +him steadily. “But they’re worth more. They’re +worth every penny of ten thousand, at the lowest computation, +Mr. Wiertz: I had them valued by three different +people. Well, and what about them, and why were +you going to write to me?”</p> + +<p>“I wanted to know if you’d sell them,” answered Mr. +Wiertz. “It just so happens that I could do with them. +I could make use of them at once. It’s a pity they should +lie there in my safe doing nothing. I’ll give you eight +thousand for them.”</p> + +<p>“No!” answered Mrs. Walsingham, promptly.</p> + +<p>“No?” said Mr. Wiertz. “Dear me!—wouldn’t you +rather have eight thousand, cash down, than let them lie +unseen and go on paying me interest?”</p> + +<p>“No, I wouldn’t,” replied Mrs. Walsingham. “They’re +quite safe where they are, and there they can stop until +I want them. And as I say, they’re worth every penny +of ten thousand.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[86]</span>“I might go to nine thousand,” suggested Mr. Wiertz.</p> + +<p>“Not for sale—at any rate, not now,” said Mrs. Walsingham +firmly. “I might want them—if I do, I’ll redeem +them pretty quick, Mr. Wiertz. If I don’t—well, +then, we’ll talk business.”</p> + +<p>“I mightn’t have an opening for them then,” remarked +Mr. Wiertz. “Just now I have.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham crackled her bank-notes.</p> + +<p>“Diamonds,” she said, “can always make openings for +themselves. How much is the interest, Mr. Wiertz?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiertz fidgeted amongst his papers.</p> + +<p>“Supposing I could get you the ten thousand you think +they’re worth?” he said. “What do you say to that, +Mrs. Walsingham?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham laughed merrily and shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I say that it shows that you believe them to be worth +more than ten thousand,” she answered. “No, I’m not +going to sell, at present, Mr. Wiertz. Those stones are +quite safe in your keeping, and when I want them I’ll +find the money to redeem them within an hour. Now, this +interest?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiertz sighed and consulted a book.</p> + +<p>“Well you know your own business best,” he observed. +“But I wouldn’t pay interest on a loan of a thousand +pounds for which I’d lodged security that’s worth, +worth——”</p> + +<p>“Let’s say ten thousand, Mr. Wiertz,” said Mrs. Walsingham, +with another silvery laugh. “I dare say you +wouldn’t. But—I will.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiertz presently let his visitor out by a private +door into an alley which communicated with the Strand. +And as Mrs. Walsingham tripped out of the alley upon +the crowded side-walk, a man who was coming along from +the direction of Trafalgar Square caught sight of her, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[87]</span>half-paused, looked again, and then slowly turned and followed +her. The turning was done in a careless, pointless +fashion that would not have attracted attention from any +one; for a moment the man paused, to look into a shop-window, +as if he had seen something there that aroused +curiosity; then he sauntered forward, with Mrs. Walsingham +some twenty yards ahead of him. She was wearing +a large black feather in her smart hat; the man made a +mental note of it in case he should lose her for a moment. +But he was a tall, long-limbed fellow, who could take one +lounging step to her three quick ones, and it was an easy +task to keep his quarry in sight.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham pursued a steady course along King +William Street and Green Street into Leicester Square, +and eventually plunged into Soho, and disappeared in a +certain café, past which the pursuer lazily strolled with +inspecting eyes. He sized the place, its possibilities, and +its prices up in one all-seeing glance.</p> + +<p>“Well, I guess a dollar will just about cover what I’m +likely to lay out in that spot,” he mused, as his slow step +slackened to a halt. “And anyway, it’s time I ate, so +I’ll turn in and see where she’s got to. For that’s her +sure!”</p> + +<p>Without more ado he pulled down over his eyes the big +slouch hat which surrounded his head like an over-sized +halo, and, pushing open the swing doors, entered the restaurant. +His first glance at the softly-lighted interior +showed him Mrs. Walsingham, who, seated at the table +which had come to be regarded as hers by right of long +custom, was bending over a menu card, and explaining +to her usual waiter that she had been away for the last +week or two. And thus engaged, she did not notice the +stranger, who slipped past and took a seat a little way off, +with his face in the shadow. Secure now of not losing her, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[88]</span>he sat back and inspected her at his leisure, Mrs. Walsingham +remaining all unconscious that she was being so +examined.</p> + +<p>“That’s her, sure pop!” said the stranger to himself. +“That’s all right. And she looks flourishing enough, too.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham had made considerable progress with +her dinner before she became aware of the man’s presence. +She was not given to staring about her, having other and +more important matters to attend to, and it was only by +accident that she happened to look at the particular corner +in which her pursuer had placed himself. There had +been but few people in that part of the place; now a noisy +group of young foreigners, men and women, came in, +hungry and hilarious, and a waiter turned up an additional +light. It struck full on the stranger’s face, and +Mrs. Walsingham, happening to turn at the sudden glare, +looked straight at him as he looked straight at her.</p> + +<p>For several seconds the two regarded each other steadily; +then Mrs. Walsingham looked down at her plate and calmly +went on with her dinner. But the man, stealing a glance +at her now and then, knew that she had recognized him; +he knew also that she knew that he had recognized her. +He waited and watched for a sign. And Mrs. Walsingham +gave none. Nor did she show any sign of perturbation, +or of alarm, or confusion; she continued to eat and +drink as quietly as if nothing had happened, and if her +eyes happened to turn in the stranger’s direction, they remained +as expressionless as if they rested on a statue.</p> + +<p>But the watcher knew very well that Mrs. Walsingham +was contemplating something, and that that something +related to him, and he continued to watch without seeming +to do so. And at last, while she was trifling with her +coffee and her <i>crème de menthe</i>, he saw her take from her +bag a tiny memorandum tablet, on a leaf of which she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[89]</span>scribbled a line or two. Then she folded the torn-out +leaf into a neat roll, and with a calm stare at the stranger +across the room, laid it on the outer edge of the table at +which she was sitting. The stranger’s left eyelid flickered +imperceptibly. A few moments later he nodded to his +waiter, paid his bill, and slowly lounged out. Mrs. Walsingham +was engaged in studying the pages of a continental +journal as he passed her table—when she looked +up again the rolled-up scrap of paper had disappeared. +And presently, she, too, paid for her entertainment, and +walked out with her usual languid grace.</p> + +<p>The stranger walked with swifter steps when he was +once clear of the restaurant. He made for the corner of +the street, and there unrolled the note and read what Mrs. +Walsingham had written.</p> + +<p>“Go into Soho Square, and wait for me at the corner +of Greek Street.”</p> + +<p>The stranger smiled and tore the bit of paper into fragments +as he strode off.</p> + +<p>“I knew she’d be curious,” he muttered. “Well, that +was a lucky chance.”</p> + +<p>There was no verbal greeting between them when she +presently joined him. He lifted his hat, and she gave +him a sharp nod, and they instinctively turned towards +a quiet corner of the square.</p> + +<p>“That was sheer luck,” he said. “I was looking for +you. I’d looked three days.”</p> + +<p>“And why?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Because I’ve got something to tell you,” he answered. +“Maybe you know it. Maybe you don’t. You see, I’ve +come straight from there. Well, it’s just this, whether +you know it or not. He’s—dead.”</p> + +<p>He thought she was going to fall, for she turned white +to the lips, and he put out his hand to clutch her. But +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[90]</span>then he saw her set her lips, and in a second the colour +came back, and she turned on him with glittering eyes.</p> + +<p>“Prove to me that that’s true—true!” she said in a low, +intense voice. “And I’ll—I’ll——”</p> + +<p>“What?” he said.</p> + +<p>“I’ll make it worth your while,” she answered. “I +will!”</p> + +<p>The man scratched his chin.</p> + +<p>“It’s true enough,” he answered, with a short laugh. +“He was shot dead in a scrap at Carville—that’s in +Nevada—six weeks ago. I was there—I saw it. Prove +it? Well, I suppose you’d take a letter or a cable from, +say, the sheriff, as proof! He was going under his own +name. It’s quite true. Of course, I didn’t know where +you were, and there was no one else to let you know.”</p> + +<p>“Give me that sheriff’s name,” she said. “Here—write +it down—the address, too.”</p> + +<p>The man scribbled a line or two in the notebook she held +out to him. She glanced at it and thrust it into her bag.</p> + +<p>“Meet me here at this time to-morrow,” she said. “And—here, +I dare say you’ll find that useful.”</p> + +<p>She pushed a bank-note into his hand, and without staying +to hear more, turned away and hurried in the direction +of Oxford Street and to the nearest post-office. When +she came out, ten minutes later, she hailed a taxi-cab and +bade the driver go to her flat. At her own door her maid +met her and gave her a meaning look.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Shrewsbury’s in the drawing-room,” she said. +“He’s just come.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[91]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XI<br> +<span class="large">UNFORESEEN</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham made straight for the door of the +drawing-room. But before she reached it she paused and +looked at her maid. The two women regarded each other +steadily. Then the maid smiled faintly.</p> + +<p>“You look—tired,” she said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham nodded and turned towards her bedroom.</p> + +<p>“Tell Mr. Shrewsbury I’ll be with him presently,” she +said. “Take the whiskey and soda in. Stop—I’ll have +some myself. I am tired.”</p> + +<p>She walked into the dining-room, and mixing herself +a drink as she stood at the sideboard, carried it off to her +bedroom. Once in there, she went over to the mirror and +looked at herself. She knew well enough what Guyner +meant when she spoke significantly of her looking tired—there +were lines under her eyes, and a pinched expression +about her mouth, and between her fine eyebrows there were +two distinct creases. She looked ten years older than she +had looked when she tripped out of Abbotsbury House +only two hours before. She frowned as she contemplated +herself in her glass, but the frown suddenly changed to a +smile.</p> + +<p>“All the same,” she murmured, with a note of triumph +in her voice, “if that’s true, I’m free. Free! My God—and +with what possibilities!”</p> + +<p>There was nothing tired or discomposed about Mrs. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[92]</span>Walsingham, however, when she joined Richard half an +hour later. All traces of fatigue had gone from eyes +and mouth and forehead; she was wearing her prettiest +gown; she gave her visitor her brightest smile. And +Richard, who was still feeling somewhat sore after his experience +of the afternoon, suddenly felt a sense of relief +and of pleasure, and realized that Mrs. Walsingham’s +cheerful company was a valuable asset in his life, and he +held her hand rather longer than was necessary when she +gave it to him.</p> + +<p>“I thought you were lost,” she said, laughing. “Don’t +forget that you’re only a stranger in London yet.”</p> + +<p>“I’m awfully sorry I didn’t turn up,” he said. “I +went to lunch with Burgoyne, and then—then I went to +make a call at Maida Vale, and after that I found I was +near Lord’s, and so I turned in there for an hour, and +there was some rather exciting play, and so I stopped +longer than I meant to, and then I knew you’d have gone, +and so—well, I waited until later.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you’ve dined,” she said.</p> + +<p>“A bit hurriedly,” he answered. “And you?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t let anything interfere with my dinner,” she +said. “I didn’t wait very long for you. Give me a cigarette. +And what,” she continued, settling herself in her +favourite chair, “what took you to Maida Vale? I didn’t +know you had ever heard of such a place.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I ever had,” Richard replied. “I +went there to call on Miss Leverton.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham suddenly dropped her cigarette and +made some fuss about picking it up. By the time she +had recovered it and had settled herself again she was +quite composed and carelessly indifferent.</p> + +<p>“Oh—and I didn’t know that you knew Miss Leverton,” +she said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[93]</span>“I didn’t until to-day—I didn’t even know there was a +Miss Leverton. No one ever told me there was,” said +Richard.</p> + +<p>“That means that neither Mr. Carsdale nor I ever told +you,” said Mrs. Walsingham. “Why should we?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t know—except that her father and mine +were old friends,” he answered, doubtfully. “I—of +course, I don’t know anything—I mean of what’s done, or +isn’t done.”</p> + +<p>“What’s chiefly done is never to meddle with things +that don’t concern one,” observed Mrs. Walsingham +sententiously. “And where did you meet Miss Frances +Leverton?”</p> + +<p>“I met her at the solicitor’s—Winch’s, in Lincoln’s +Inn—where I went with Burgoyne. And I asked her if I +might call on her mother—of course, I thought she’d have +a mother—to offer my condolence on her father’s death, +and she said I might, and so I went this afternoon.”</p> + +<p>“Is that why you are so elaborately attired?” asked +Mrs. Walsingham, eyeing her visitor’s garments.</p> + +<p>“I—I thought you’d got to tog yourself up rather to +pay calls,” said Richard. “Isn’t that—proper?”</p> + +<p>“Quite. Well, so you called on Miss Leverton’s +mother?” said Mrs. Walsingham. “Proceed.”</p> + +<p>“There wasn’t any mother—she’s dead, it seems. And,” +continued Richard with boyish candour, “I want to ask +you something—Miss Leverton seemed to be angry because—well, +because of that letter which I wrote to her father—the +one that Carsdale got, you know.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham dropped her cigarette into an ash-tray +and selected another from the cabinet at her side.</p> + +<p>“Frances Leverton is the sort of young woman who +would be angry at anything that didn’t suit her,” she +said. “She is an only child, and she was spoilt by her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[94]</span>father, who let her have too much of her own way. She +used to bully him at the office, and while he was ill she used +to interfere in affairs that didn’t concern her. Of course, +she’d be angry about the letter, but it was as much Carsdale’s +concern as hers. Didn’t you want Leverton to advise +you financially? Well, hasn’t Carsdale done it instead—only +much better? She’s mad because your business +got into his hands—she thinks she’s a financial genius. +That’s all, my friend—pure pique.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Richard, blankly. “I see. But—she gave +me a message for Carsdale.” He repeated it word for +word, having learnt it by heart. “I don’t like giving it,” +he said.</p> + +<p>“Fiddle!” said Mrs. Walsingham. “Give it, and hear +Carsdale laugh at it. Do you think he’ll attach any importance +to a message like that. You don’t know John +Carsdale if you do.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t want to hurt his feelings,” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“Don’t alarm yourself,” said Mrs. Walsingham. +“Well, and so now, I suppose, you’ll be visiting Maida +Vale again?”</p> + +<p>Richard felt himself blushing—why, he did not know.</p> + +<p>“Miss Leverton said I might call on Sunday,” he answered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham laughed.</p> + +<p>“Really!” she said. “So Miss Frances is human after +all. But, of course, she’s got Lizzie Bryce there to play +propriety.”</p> + +<p>“Lizzie Bryce?” repeated Richard, vaguely. “Oh—is +that the invalid lady?”</p> + +<p>“She’s not an invalid—she’s a cripple for life,” said +Mrs. Walsingham. “She’s a protégée of Barclay Leverton’s, +and a very clever young woman. They’re both +clever women, those two. Mind they don’t eat you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[95]</span>Richard looked at her doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“I never know when you’re serious and when +you’re not,” he said. “I don’t think you like Miss +Leverton.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t suppose it matters the value of a farthing +whether I do or I don’t,” replied Mrs. Walsingham. +“Frankly, I don’t, because she doesn’t like me. Now, +her father and I were very good friends. He was a good +sort, Barclay Leverton—perhaps rather too easy-going, +but, I say, a good sort. His daughter cherishes what they +call Advanced Ideas. She believes in women’s rights, and +she’s clever—she’s a New Woman. I’m an Old Woman. +I don’t know what women’s rights are and I’m not +clever.”</p> + +<p>“That isn’t true,” said Richard, with candid emphasis. +“I think you’re the cleverest woman I ever met.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve met such a lot, haven’t you?” retorted Mrs. +Walsingham, teasingly. She threw her cigarette away, +and coming over to one of the windows, looked out on the +London twilight. “Well,” she said presently, in a low +voice, “perhaps you’ll get Miss Leverton and Lizzie Bryce +to look after you. I’m thinking of going away.”</p> + +<p>Richard looked up in genuine alarm. He suddenly +realized that this woman filled a very large place in his +small world; he suddenly remembered that since his arrival +in London he had spent most of his time with her, +that he had always found her amusing, interesting, enlivening; +when he had just said that she was the cleverest +woman he had ever met, he sincerely meant it, for she had +always been ready and willing to give him advice on all +sorts of matters, and her advice he had invariably proved +to be good. Going away!—that would indeed leave a +blank in his scheme of things which it would be hard to +fill.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[96]</span>“Going away!” he exclaimed. “Why—where are you +going?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” she said, indifferently. “Timbuctoo—the +North Pole—the South Pole—anywhere. I’m—tired.”</p> + +<p>“Tired?” he said. “Of—London?”</p> + +<p>“Of London and Life,” she answered. “Why shouldn’t +I be? You’re young, my friend, and all young people +are dense.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come now,” he said, interrupting her, “I’m no +younger than you are, you know! You told me yourself +the other day that, as a matter of fact, I’m older than +you—you said you wouldn’t be twenty-one until September, +and now it’s only June. I was twenty-one three +months ago.”</p> + +<p>“A woman is always at least five years older than a +man,” she answered. “I’m quite an old woman compared +to you—you’re a mere child. And as I was saying, all +young people are dense—they don’t, won’t, can’t see!”</p> + +<p>“What can’t I see?” asked Richard.</p> + +<p>“That I’m a little wearied of things,” she answered, +still staring straight before her into the twilight. “What +do I do, after all? I went in for business because I didn’t +want to be idle, but I’m not particularly interested in +going down to Abbotsbury House and sitting there for so +many hours a day. No—I shall go.”</p> + +<p>“Where?” asked Richard, in tones that showed his +concern. “Where?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I’ll go to America—to New York. Perhaps +I’ll go to Australia,” she answered. “Perhaps I won’t. +Perhaps I’ll go travelling and write a book about it when +I come back.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why you want to go anywhere,” he said +doggedly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[97]</span>“Perhaps. But you don’t understand,” she said. “I +suppose the real reason is that I’m—lonely.”</p> + +<p>“Lonely!” exclaimed Richard. He got up from his +chair, and went over to the window, and looked closely +at her. “You don’t mean that?” he asked in a voice that +trembled a little.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you’ve been very good,” she said. “I—I haven’t +been lonely since you came. But—I was before, and I +shall be again.”</p> + +<p>“Again?” he said. “Again?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham lifted her eyes to his, gave him one +look, and dropped them.</p> + +<p>“I can’t expect to monopolize you always,” she said, +in a very low voice. “No—I really think I shall go +away.”</p> + +<p>Richard unconsciously moved nearer to her. In that +half-light she looked prettier than ever; all the grace and +charm of her femininity suddenly appealed to him with +overwhelming force; his blood suddenly seemed to catch +fire and his pulses leapt.</p> + +<p>“Don’t!” he said, hoarsely. “Don’t go! I—I don’t +want you to go. I—I shan’t let you go!”</p> + +<p>And letting all his natural instincts suddenly assert +themselves, he threw his arms round her and drew her to +him.</p> + +<p>“Stay!” he whispered. “Stay—and marry me! If +you won’t—if you do go, you know I shall follow you.”</p> + +<p>She made a fluttering movement to escape from him, +but the pressure of his arms tightened. He laughed a +little—grown confident, although mightily surprised, in +his own boldness.</p> + +<p>“There, you see, you can’t go,” he said. “I’m stronger +than you—in more than one way. You shan’t go until +you promise to stop. Promise!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[98]</span>Mrs. Walsingham suddenly grew afraid—she found her +own pulses stirred, her own heart beating; something in +her became responsive. She tried to move, and could not; +she tried to speak, and could not. And the boy whom she +thought a mere youngster, laughed confidently again.</p> + +<p>“Promise!” he repeated. “Promise you’ll stop—and +that you’ll marry me. Promise—Sylvie!”</p> + +<p>He forced her face up to his until their eyes met. Hers +dropped swiftly.</p> + +<p>“Yes!” she murmured.</p> + +<p>A moment later she broke away, to gaze at him with +genuine amazement.</p> + +<p>“Is it—real?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Richard took her into his arms again with a laugh of +triumph.</p> + +<p>“Of course it’s real!” he said. “Do you think I was +going to let you go? You won’t go now.”</p> + +<p>She shook her head and again looked at him in silence. +For perhaps the first time in her life, Mrs. Walsingham +was genuinely surprised. And when Richard had gone, +she sat for a long time, thinking, thinking....</p> + +<p>And just as midnight sounded from a neighbouring +clock, came the cablegram from Nevada, and she tore it +open with trembling fingers. Then she knew that the +news she had heard in Soho Square was true.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[99]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII<br> +<span class="large">MR. CARSDALE’S CHAMBERS</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham read her cablegram three times over; +then she turned to her maid, whom she had bidden to +wait, and who stood a little way off, watching her mistress +with speculative eyes.</p> + +<p>“Sophie,” she said quietly, “ring up the Electherium +Club, and ask if Mr. Carsdale is in the house. If he is, +tell them to ask him to come to the telephone.”</p> + +<p>She sat waiting, folding and refolding the sheet of +flimsy paper, until the maid came back.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Carsdale’s waiting,” she announced briefly.</p> + +<p>“Then get ready to go out with me,” said Mrs. Walsingham. +“As soon as you’re ready run down and tell +the porter to call a taxi. I’ll be with you in a few +minutes.”</p> + +<p>The maid disappeared, and her mistress went into the +small lobby in which the telephone was installed.</p> + +<p>“Is that you?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“This is me,” answered Mr. Carsdale, carelessly. “It +is near bedtime.”</p> + +<p>“I want to see you—I must see you to-night.”</p> + +<p>“You mean this morning. Very well—shall I come +round?”</p> + +<p>“No—I’ll come to you. I’m coming now. Will you +go straight home?”</p> + +<p>“If it is really important. Is it?”</p> + +<p>“It is. Go home at once.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[100]</span>“All right,” said Mr. Carsdale. “Twenty minutes, +then.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham hung up the receiver and passed into +her bedroom. She fastened a mantilla-like veil about her +head, got herself into a cloak that covered her smart gown, +and, still holding the cablegram tightly in her hand, went +downstairs. A taxi-cab stood at the door of the flats, and +Sophie Guyner, hatted and cloaked, waited by it.</p> + +<p>“I’ve told the man where to go,” she said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham made no remark. She got into the +cab, and the maid followed her. The mistress preserved +silence all the way to Jermyn Street, where Mr. Carsdale +kept his bachelor state; the maid amused herself by looking +out on the still busy streets. And as they pulled up near +the back of St. James’s Church, another taxi-cab came +from the opposite direction and stopped to allow Carsdale +to alight from it. The three met on the pavement.</p> + +<p>“Hullo!” said Carsdale. “We arrive together. Come +along.”</p> + +<p>He led the way into an adjacent house and up the stairs +into his rooms. In what was obviously his dining and +breakfast-room, he pointed the maid to an easy chair and +to the evening newspapers which lay on a table at its side, +and going to the sideboard, he poured out a glass of wine, +and picked up a biscuit-box.</p> + +<p>“There, Sophie, you can amuse yourself with a drink +and a biscuit, while your mistress and I talk business,” +he said good-humouredly. “Come this way, Mrs. Walsingham.”</p> + +<p>He opened a door and led his visitor through one room +into another—a small apartment evidently used as an +office—and turned up the electric light.</p> + +<p>“May as well have as much space as possible between +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[101]</span>ourselves and Sophie’s sharp ears,” he said. “Now, +what is it, Sylvie? Something, of course, of the deepest +dye, at this hour of the night. Hullo!—you look a bit +white and upset. Have a whiskey-and-soda?”</p> + +<p>“No!” she said. “Sit down, Jack. There’s a lot to +say. I wanted to tell you to-night. Besides, I know you +never go to bed before two. Listen—I went to Bigiano’s +this evening to dinner—alone.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Mr. Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“And whom do you think I suddenly caught sight of?”</p> + +<p>“Heaven knows!”</p> + +<p>“Sandy Kinahan.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Carsdale’s eyebrows arched themselves almost to +the roots of his hair, and his mouth opened.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “Back again!”</p> + +<p>“Yes. He was dining at a table nearly opposite mine,” +continued Mrs. Walsingham. “Now I come to think of it, +I expect he’d seen me and followed me. I recognized him +at once, but I didn’t show any sign of it, and he didn’t +show anything, either. Then I pencilled a line telling +him to meet me in Soho Square, and he picked it off my +table as he passed. And when we met, he told me straight +out that—that—that he’s dead!”</p> + +<p>“He! Dead?” exclaimed Carsdale. “Dead?”</p> + +<p>“Dead! Shot in a fight, a brawl, at a place called +Carville, in Nevada.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale stood staring at her for a full minute. Then +he smote his hands together. “God, Sylvie!—if it’s only +true!” he said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham unclosed her right hand. In the +palm, tightly compressed, lay the cablegram. She began +to unfold it.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I said to—to Sandy. He told me to cable +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[102]</span>to the sheriff. I did, there and then, and prepaid a reply. +Here it is—it came just before I telephoned to you at the +Electherium.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale took the much-creased paper and read the message +twice over. He nodded his head several times.</p> + +<p>“That seems right—that seems right—that seems all +right!” he said. “Lord, what a blessing—what a blessing, +Sylvie! But remember,” he suddenly added, “remember, +you must have it verified—verified beyond all possible +doubt. Because——”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” she said. “Yes, Jack?”</p> + +<p>“You’ll marry again,” he concluded. “You’re sure to +marry again.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham looked at the door and lowered her +voice, in spite of the fact that there was no possibility of +any other person overhearing what she said.</p> + +<p>“That’s another matter I wanted to speak to you about +at once,” she said. “Jack—the boy’s asked me to marry +him.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale’s eyebrows again arched themselves.</p> + +<p>“Good Lord!” he exclaimed. “Seriously?”</p> + +<p>“Seriously,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“When?”</p> + +<p>“To-night,” she said. “I—I hadn’t the least notion +that he would. But—he did.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Carsdale. “And—you?”</p> + +<p>“I said I—would. He—he made me say I would,” she +answered. “I—I never thought he could be so—well, +masterful.”</p> + +<p>“It strikes me that young Master Hopeful is finding +his feet,” observed Carsdale. He dropped into a chair +and surveyed his companion carefully and speculatively. +“Well, I don’t know why you shouldn’t marry him, +Sylvie,” he said presently; “you’re a clever woman, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[103]</span>you can, if you like, be a very decent woman, and play a +straight game, and all that——”</p> + +<p>“I will—if I marry him,” she said, a little indignantly.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right—I said you could, and that’s as good +as saying you would,” said Carsdale. “Um! Well, but +this is a serious affair. There’ll be this Walsingham myth +to settle up and explain—that can be done, yes, it can be +done satisfactorily, I think, quite satisfactorily—but, I’ll +tell you what, there’s always the danger of—Kinahan.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham regarded him anxiously.</p> + +<p>“You think he might be dangerous?” she said.</p> + +<p>“I think Sandy Kinahan is a man who might be inclined +to indulge in blackmailing tactics,” replied Carsdale. +“I must think. Now, where is Kinahan to be got +hold of?”</p> + +<p>“I’m to meet him in Soho Square to-morrow—no, this +evening,” said Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“Well, I must have a talk to him. There’s one blessing +about it,” he continued, “I’ve got a bit of a hold on that +gentleman—not much, but sufficient. You must induce +him to see me—tell him I’m going to do him good. Can +you manage that?”</p> + +<p>“Leave that to me,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“Then you’d better bring him here,” said Carsdale. +“I don’t want him going to Norfolk Street. Bring him +here this evening—I’ll be in from eight until ten.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll bring him here at half-past eight,” she said. “I +can manage him. From what I saw, I should say he’s +looking out for somebody to do good to him. Now I’ll +go.”</p> + +<p>She rose and moved towards the door, but seeing that +Carsdale was in deep thought, she paused, and stood, waiting. +He, too, presently rose, and looked at her as if he +was trying to recollect something.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[104]</span>“Yes?” she said. “What is it?”</p> + +<p>“I was trying to—recall a few things,” he answered. +“Let’s see—Kinahan was the only man—beside myself—who +ever knew, wasn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she replied. “No one else ever knew anything.”</p> + +<p>“Then there’s only Kinahan to settle with,” he said. +“That makes it easier. To-morrow night, then. I think +the two of us will be able to square him satisfactorily. +Come along. I’ll see you safely to your cab.”</p> + +<p>In the outer room, Sophie Guyner had dropped asleep. +Carsdale, as he entered, looked at her keenly, wondering if +she was really dozing or only pretending to doze. He silently +indicated her to her mistress; Mrs. Walsingham +nodded reassuringly, seeing what was in his mind.</p> + +<p>“She’s had a long day,” she said. “Sophie!”</p> + +<p>But at that moment a loud knock at the outer door +roused the sleeping woman and made Carsdale and Mrs. +Walsingham start.</p> + +<p>“Now, who’s this?” growled Carsdale. “Some night-bird +or other, I suppose, who thinks I’ll give him a drink. +Stay there a moment.”</p> + +<p>He went out into his lobby, drawing the door of the +room after him without shutting. Opening this outer +door, he found himself confronted by a policeman in uniform, +who drew back on seeing him.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“Beg pardon, sir—are these Mr. Carsdale’s rooms?” +he said.</p> + +<p>Carsdale nodded curtly.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“You’re Mr. Carsdale, sir? I’ve come on from Charing +Cross Hospital. There’s a man been taken in who’s had a +bad accident—motor-bus. They say there’s no chance for +him—in fact,” added the policeman, “I was to say he was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[105]</span>dying fast. He asked for you—had this address in a +pocket-book. And I was to ask you, if you could, to bring +a lady name Sylvia, or Sylvie, or some such——”</p> + +<p>Carsdale stopped him.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” he said. He led the way into the room, +where Sophie, now wide awake, was staring at Mrs. Walsingham. +And Mrs. Walsingham nodded at Carsdale as +he and the policeman entered.</p> + +<p>“I heard,” she said. She turned to the policeman. +“What is he like—this man?”</p> + +<p>“A tall, loose-built man, looks and speaks like an American, +but with a bit of Irish accent in him,” answered the +policeman. He turned to Carsdale. “You’d best come +quick, sir—the doctors said he couldn’t last long. He said +you were to get the lady if she was handy—if not, to come +yourself. There was something he had to tell.”</p> + +<p>“This is the lady,” said Carsdale. “Come along at +once.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve a taxi-cab outside,” said the policeman.</p> + +<p>Carsdale motioned them all outside the room, turned +down the light, and followed them. They got half way to +the hospital before he spoke. Then he turned to the +officer.</p> + +<p>“How was it?” he asked. “Do you know?”</p> + +<p>“Picked him up,” answered the policeman, laconically. +“Stepped straight off the curb into a motor-bus coming +down the Haymarket.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale nodded and bent over to Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“It’s Kinahan, of course,” he said. “And I’m wondering +what he has to say.”</p> + +<p>At the hospital somebody put the two women into a +reception-room, and bidding them wait, took Carsdale +outside.</p> + +<p>“You’re too late,” said an official, coming forward. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[106]</span>“The man’s dead. He died soon after the officer went +off to you. Is he a relation of yours or of any friend of +yours?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Carsdale, “but I can identify him.”</p> + +<p>“This way, then,” said the official.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes later Carsdale came back to the waiting-room +and took Mrs. Walsingham aside into a quiet corner.</p> + +<p>“It was Kinahan,” he whispered. “He’s dead—I’ve +seen him. He said nothing here—not a word. And now +there isn’t a man living, Sylvie, who knows the secret but +me, and you’re—safe!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[107]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIII<br> +<span class="large">THE BOND STREET JEWELLER</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Richard Shrewsbury awoke next morning to suddenly +remember two things—the first, that Captain Burgoyne +was coming to breakfast; the second that he was engaged +to be married.</p> + +<p>Now that the first excitement was over, he found himself +not a little puzzled as to how the affairs of the +previous evening had come about. He was well aware that +he had come to be very fond of Sylvie Walsingham’s society, +that she was the most important factor in his small world, +that she had become, in a sense, necessary to him, that he +liked and admired her, and was always well content when he +was with her, that she always amused and interested him, +and that she was just the sort of smart and pretty woman +that he liked to be seen about with. And he was also very +well aware that when he went to her that evening the +idea of marrying her had never so much as entered his +head. He felt equally sure, being as yet very innocent +and unlearned in the ways of the world, that it had never +entered hers.</p> + +<p>“I persuaded her,” he said to himself as he began to +dress. “I expect it was one of those things that are bound +to be. And after all——”</p> + +<p>He turned to a new photograph of Mrs. Walsingham, +which he had put up on the mantelpiece of his bedroom only +the day before, and Kedgin having gone out of the room, +he took it down and looked carefully at it. Yes, there +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[108]</span>was no doubt that he would have one of the prettiest wives +in London, and she would do credit to him, and to all the +finery and luxury that he could give her, and he was very, +very fond of her, and they had always got on like a house +on fire, and ... and then he put the photograph back +in its place and wondered vaguely why he had been very +much attracted to Frances Leverton, and why there was +something about her that had made him feel very down +in the mouth when she dismissed him so curtly and very +cock-a-whoop when, through the lame girl’s intercession, he +had obtained permission to call at Acacia Mansions again.</p> + +<p>Now, he thought, that engagement would perhaps not be +quite so important as it had seemed—he would have to devote +himself to his fiancée more than ever; perhaps—he was +well aware that there was no love lost between Mrs. Walsingham +and Miss Leverton—perhaps she would not allow +him to go to Acacia Mansions. At the notion of that +he laughed, a little cynically, and proceeded to complete +his toilet.</p> + +<p>Burgoyne came punctually to the moment of his appointment, +alert, hungry, and bustling, and gave his surroundings +an all-embracing and comprehensive stare.</p> + +<p>“You seem to have lodged yourself in magnificence, +young gentleman,” he said, gazing at the pictures, the +books, and the old china. “Who inducted you into all +this grandeur?”</p> + +<p>“Carsdale—the man you saw yesterday,” replied +Richard. “Carsdale is an awfully useful man to know.”</p> + +<p>“Evidently,” said Burgoyne, still looking round. “But +you didn’t find all these things—the books and pictures +and ornaments—here?”</p> + +<p>“No, they’re mine—I bought ’em,” answered Richard, +gazing at his possessions with the pride of a child who +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[109]</span>owns valuable toys which it does not quite understand.</p> + +<p>“I congratulate you on your taste. And pray, who +helped you to form it. Somebody who knows something +about these things, I think,” said Burgoyne. “I don’t +believe you brought an epicurean taste in bindings, a +nice discernment in pictures, or an even superficial knowledge +of old china from Trinidad, young man.”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Richard, frankly. “I didn’t. I don’t +know much about any of those things. Mrs. Walsingham +helped me in that direction.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Mrs. Walsingham, the lady I saw at Carsdale’s, +eh?” said Burgoyne. “Then I congratulate her on her +taste—I possess a little, a very little, myself—just enough, +Master Richard, to know when I encounter people who +have more. I think your friend, Mrs. Walsingham, must +be very clever.”</p> + +<p>Richard glanced at the door of the room in which they +were standing. In the next room Kedgin was moving +about the breakfast table. Richard watched him until he +disappeared to other regions.</p> + +<p>“Oh, ah, yes!” he said shortly. “Yes—I believe so. +The—er—fact is, Burgoyne, I wanted to tell you—you’re +the first to know, really—the fact is, Mrs. Walsingham +and I are—er—engaged to be married.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne, who had screwed an eye-glass into his right +eye in order to examine a pair of exquisite water-colour +sketches, turned and let it drop.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” he said. “You and Mrs. Walsingham are engaged +to be married, eh, Dick? Ah! Really! Now do +you know, when those sort of announcements are made to +me, I never know how to reply to them? One is supposed +to shower congratulations on the persons who make them—and +that sort of thing. I never do. You see, I don’t +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[110]</span>know Mrs. Walsingham. I saw yesterday a very pretty +and smartly-gowned lady—but I don’t know any more. +The great thing, dear boy, is—are you satisfied?”</p> + +<p>“Quite!” answered Richard, emphatically. “Quite!”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne slapped his young friend’s shoulder and shook +hands with him.</p> + +<p>“Then that’s all right, and I’ll be your best man,” he +said. “That is, if you’ll have me. And here’s the welcome +news of breakfast.”</p> + +<p>Over the breakfast table, the elder man occasionally +stole a keen look at the youngster, as if he were endeavouring +to penetrate through the air and atmosphere of +cheery good-humour which hung all over Richard. He was +wondering what had happened since the previous day to +bring this engagement about; that it had not been then +made he was quite certain, knowing well that Richard was +not the sort of young man to keep secrets from his friends. +But he observed that his host’s appetite was not only unimpaired, +but healthy and vigorous, and from that fact he +concluded that Richard’s mind was quite easy on all matters +of whatever nature, and he accordingly dismissed his +friend’s affairs from him, and began to think of his own.</p> + +<p>“And so Carsdale’s a smart business man, Dick?” he +asked when they had settled down to breakfast and Kedgin +had taken himself away. “A really clever man at his +work, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Carsdale’s one of the cleverest men in London,” answered +Richard, with deep assurance.</p> + +<p>“Is that his general reputation, or do you speak of your +own opinion?” asked Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“I can only tell what I know,” answered Richard. And +he entered into a plain account of what Carsdale had done +for him in the way of investing the major portion of his +fortune, not forgetting to repeat the encomiums passed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[111]</span>upon the transaction by the highly respectable bankers. +But in detailing the magnitude and the soundness of this +transaction, he forgot to mention that he had given Carsdale +ten thousand pounds to play with, and Burgoyne was +consequently impressed.</p> + +<p>“Well, that seems highly satisfactory,” said Burgoyne. +“Carsdale may be of use to me. I want some man of his +sort as a sort of medium. I meant, of course, to go to +Leverton.”</p> + +<p>For a moment Richard’s thoughts turned to Frances +Leverton. Here was a chance of introducing business to +her. Carsdale, whether by intention or not, had taken +away his, Richard’s, business from her; it would be doing +her a good turn to get Burgoyne to give her a chance.</p> + +<p>“Miss Leverton is carrying on some part of her father’s +business,” he said. “I don’t quite know what she does, +but I think she advises people about investments, and——”</p> + +<p>“No!” said Burgoyne. “I wouldn’t employ a woman in +business matters under any consideration. But I think +Carsdale might do for what I want.”</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” asked Richard.</p> + +<p>“To form a company for developing the district which +I’ve been exploring,” replied Burgoyne. “There’s an +enormous trade to be done in that corner of the world. +Oh, I’m going to do it, of course! I shall put a good +deal of money into it myself, now that I’ve come into +this rather unexpected wealth. You’d better come in +with me, Dick. In two years any company formed on +lines I propose, and with the capital +I’m thinking of, will be getting twenty, aye, thirty +per cent. on its money. +There’s a veritable virgin gold mine there.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll come in,” said Richard. “That is, of course, +if Carsdale approves. I’ve left everything in his hands, +you see.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[112]</span>Burgoyne smiled.</p> + +<p>“I think Carsdale will see the possibilities when I talk +to him,” he said. “I must make an appointment. For +a few days I’m about filled up.”</p> + +<p>“Can you give me half an hour this morning?” asked +Richard, a little shyly and diffidently. “Do, if you can, +Burgoyne.”</p> + +<p>The explorer pulled out his watch.</p> + +<p>“I’m due at the Royal Geographical Society’s place at +half-past eleven,” he said. “And it’s now half-past ten. +What is it, Dick?”</p> + +<p>Richard laughed and looked somewhat shame-faced.</p> + +<p>“I—well, I suppose I’ve got to buy an engagement +ring,” he said. “I thought perhaps you’d go with me to +Levanter’s place in Bond Street.”</p> + +<p>“That’s on my way,” answered Burgoyne. “Levanter’s, +eh? That’s a very swell establishment, isn’t it? +Perhaps they could do something for me. I want to have +my necklace valued—the expensive luxury which I redeemed +yesterday, you know. I really don’t know what +it’s worth, and I believe I shall sell it.”</p> + +<p>“Sell it to me!” said Richard, eagerly. “I’ll buy it.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne gave the young gentleman a queer look. He +was not precisely aware of the full amount of Richard’s +fortune, and it seemed to him that the buying of diamond +necklaces was not a thing to be lightly entered upon.</p> + +<p>“What would you do with it?” he asked, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Why give it to Sylvie, of course,” answered Richard.</p> + +<p>“A pretty name,” commented Burgoyne, and secretly +wondered who Mrs. Walsingham had been. “Well, we’ll +see, Dick. Of course, if you want to buy diamonds——”</p> + +<p>“All women love diamonds,” interjected Richard, with +an air of wisdom.</p> + +<p>“True, my son,” said Burgoyne, gravely. “They do. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[113]</span>And,” he added to himself, “they love young men who +can afford to give them diamonds. Well,” he said aloud, +“suppose we go round, then?”</p> + +<p>“But—your necklace?” said Richard.</p> + +<p>Burgoyne laughed, and tapped the breast of his buttoned-up +coat.</p> + +<p>“I have it—here,” he answered. “Here, in a wash-leather +bag. The fact is, I’ve never had it off me since +I took possession of it again, yesterday. I—slept with it +under my pillow. I’m not sure that I didn’t dream of it.”</p> + +<p>Closeted with the Bond Street jeweller, who already +knew him very well as a good customer whose purchases so +far had been chiefly for himself in the way of sleeve-links, +scarf-pins, and such-like adjuncts to a rich young man’s +personal adornments, Richard proved hard to please.</p> + +<p>He asked Burgoyne’s advice, he asked Mr. Levanter’s advice; +he endeavoured to combine their ideas and their taste +with his own. Finally he decided on a plain ring in which +were set five stones of the purest quality. The price made +Burgoyne jump, but Richard drew out his cheque-book, +and paid the sum demanded without comment. He put +the ring in his pocket, and rose with a sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>“Now it’s your turn,” he said, looking at Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“And you’ve been so long at making up your mind that +you’ve left me no time,” said Burgoyne. He drew out +his wash-leather bag from an inner pocket of his vest, and +handed it to the jeweller. “I want you to do something +for me, Mr. Levanter,” he said. “In this bag, which, as +you see, is sealed, you will find a diamond necklace which +has been in my family for about a hundred years and is +now my property. I’ve never had it properly valued, +and I want to know what it is really worth. Look it over +this morning. I can’t stay now, but I’ll come in before +lunch.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[114]</span>Then he got Richard out, bidding him carry his newly-acquired +bauble to his fiancée, and he himself hurried +away to his appointment. He was kept by it longer than +he had anticipated; then a fellow-explorer carried him off +to lunch at the <i>Bristol</i>; it was not until the middle of the +afternoon that he remembered the jeweller and the task he +had entrusted to him. He went off to Bond Street, and +entered the shop with a careless smile.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Levanter?” he said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter led him into the room in which Richard +had inspected the rings, and unlocked a safe. He took +out the wash-leather case and looked at Captain Burgoyne +with a curious expression.</p> + +<p>“You meant me to value these as—as diamonds?” he +said.</p> + +<p>“As diamonds? Why, of course!” answered Burgoyne. +“Of course! Diamonds!”</p> + +<p>“Well, Captain,” said Mr. Levanter, drawing out the +necklace, “I thought so. But these, sir, are not diamonds. +These things are paste!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[115]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIV<br> +<span class="large">BURGOYNE STARTS A NEW TRAIL</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>On hearing the jeweller make this remarkable pronouncement, +Burgoyne, who had been glancing around +the room in a careless fashion, suddenly became very +serious, and sitting down on a chair which happened to be +placed immediately behind him, crossed his hands on the +crook of his umbrella, and stared hard at the man who +confronted him from the other side of the table.</p> + +<p>“I—perhaps I didn’t quite catch what you said, Mr. +Levanter,” he remarked. “I am a little absent-minded, +and sometimes think about one thing when I ought to be +attending to another.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter cleared his throat and laid a finger on the +diamond necklace.</p> + +<p>“I said, Captain Burgoyne, that these are not diamonds,” +he repeated. “They are paste.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne nodded.</p> + +<p>“Paste, eh?” he said. “Paste! You are—certain?”</p> + +<p>The jeweller shrugged his shoulders and smiled. And +Burgoyne suddenly remembered Mr. Levanter’s reputation.</p> + +<p>“Of course, of course!” he made haste to say. “Of +course you will know. Dear me! But this is very extraordinary, +Mr. Levanter—it is exceedingly extraordinary.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter looked a polite inquiry.</p> + +<p>“You were quite under the impression that these were—genuine +stones?” he suggested.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[116]</span>Burgoyne indulged himself in a second of sardonic +laughter.</p> + +<p>“I will tell you a little story, Mr. Levanter,” he said. +“That necklace—which is believed, on the best evidence, +to have belonged to the Empress Maria Louisa—has been +in possession of my family for a good hundred years. I +can testify that ever since I was a small boy it had never +been out of the hands of my father or myself until three +years ago, when I lost sight of it under circumstances +which I will tell you of. But first let me tell you that, not +long before his death, my father had that necklace valued—it +was then said to be worth about ten thousand pounds.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter tapped the necklace again.</p> + +<p>“If these had been real stones,” he said, “I should have +valued this necklace at between eleven and twelve +thousand pounds.”</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said Burgoyne. “Well, now, Mr. Levanter, +I am perfectly certain, absolutely certain, that what +I had put into my hands by my father on his death-bed +was the necklace which had been valued at about ten +thousand. And it never went out of my personal possession +until, three years ago, I deposited it with an acquaintance +as security for a loan of five thousand pounds. +That acquaintance is now dead, but he took great pains to +ensure that I should recover my necklace. And yesterday +I paid his executors the amount of the loan and the accrued +interest, and the necklace was then fetched from the bank +in which it had been deposited. As I thought of selling +it, I brought it to you for valuation. And—you tell me it +is paste. No—what you really tell me, Mr. Levanter, is +that that is not my necklace at all, but is—what? Surely, +something that has been substituted for it!”</p> + +<p>The jeweller shook his head and, picking up the object +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[117]</span>which lay between them, looked at it narrowly and +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“You thought, of course, that this was your necklace +when you recovered possession of it yesterday?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“It seemed to me the exact article with which I parted +three years ago,” answered Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“The setting, now?” suggested the jeweller. “Do you +recognize that? It is, you see, obviously old, of an old-fashioned +pattern, a good deal worn, and somewhat discoloured. +But of such a setting as this it would be quite +easy to make an exact duplicate in a few days.”</p> + +<p>“I am not certain that what you now hold in your +hands is the setting of my diamonds,” said Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“Then the matter is plain,” said Mr. Levanter. “During +the time that your necklace was in the hands of—of the +acquaintance you referred to, it was taken out of his safe, +and a very well and cleverly made imitation was substituted +for it. That—er—acquaintance, now—was he quite +honest, Captain Burgoyne?”</p> + +<p>“I believe he was perfectly honest,” replied Burgoyne. +“I can’t bring myself to think that he would do what you +suggest has been done.”</p> + +<p>“What certainly has been done,” said the jeweller. +“But do you know what became of your necklace while +it was in the hands of this acquaintance?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do. In my presence it was sealed up and deposited +in his safe,” Burgoyne answered. “There it remained +until his death, when, in consequence of written +orders from him, his daughter and his solicitor removed +it to the bank from which it was fetched yesterday morning. +And to cut matters short—both solicitor and daughter +are above suspicion.”</p> + +<p>“Quite so,” said Mr. Levanter. “Then I think one +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[118]</span>can come to only one conclusion: the substitution of the +false for the real was done by some person who had +access to your acquaintance’s safe—during his lifetime.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne looked steadily at the jeweller for a moment +as if taking in the full effect of his words, as if realizing +all that they meant.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said at last. “Yes—I think you’re right. +During his lifetime, eh? Yes—it must have been. During +his lifetime, of course.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter coughed discreetly behind his white fingers.</p> + +<p>“May I ask if this—er—acquaintance was a business +man?” he said.</p> + +<p>“He was—a business man.”</p> + +<p>“Employing clerks—assistants?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—some.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter nodded as if he wished to confirm his +opinions to some person whom he saw in his mind’s eye.</p> + +<p>“He was a very foolish man, your deceased acquaintance, +to keep such valuable property in an office safe,” +he remarked.</p> + +<p>Burgoyne rose from his chair. He picked up the necklace +and looked at the imitation stones half-carelessly.</p> + +<p>“Now that I think of things from the present standpoint,” +he said, “I am afraid he was foolish. However, +as there is nothing very valuable about the necklace now, +I am going to ask you to lock it up in your safe, Mr. Levanter. +Wrap it securely, and let us both affix our seals +to the package—until it is wanted.”</p> + +<p>“You are going to track down your thief?” asked the +jeweller as he produced materials for complying with +Burgoyne’s request.</p> + +<p>“I am going to try,” answered Burgoyne. “Certainly, +I am going to try. But until I give you permission, Mr. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[119]</span>Levanter, not a word of this to a soul. I am going to see +what a little quiet work will do.”</p> + +<p>He walked slowly along Bond Street when he emerged +from Mr. Levanter’s shop, and was so much engrossed +with his own thoughts that he failed to see a great many +people who would fain have caught the famous traveller’s +eye. And at the corner of Piccadilly he got into a taxi-cab +and bade the driver go to Norfolk Street. He lounged +back in the cab, his hat pulled over his eyes, and thought. +And by the time he had come to Abbotsbury House he +had tabulated his ideas in rough but fairly comprehensive +fashion.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<div class="hangingindent"> +<p>1. He was sure that what he had handed to Barclay +Leverton was a necklace of real diamonds.</p> + +<p>2. He found it impossible to believe that Leverton +would cheat him.</p> + +<p>3. It was equally impossible to believe that either Mr. +Winch or Miss Leverton would cheat him.</p> + +<p>4. It would be ridiculous to even wonder if the substitution +of the imitation for the genuine could have +been made while the bank had possession of the +necklace.</p> + +<p>5. The crime must have been committed at or engineered +from Leverton’s office.</p> +</div></div> + +<p>“And don’t I remember that they told me that Leverton +had been ill and away from this office for some time +before his death, and that the necklace was only removed +on the very morning of his death?” he mused. “Ah, ah! +I had need find out for myself what it is that goes on behind +all the plate glass and polished mahogany! This +may be a more tortuous and puzzling path than any I ever +trod. However, here goes for the first footsteps. Let me +see—I want Mr. John Carsdale. On business, of course—quite +innocent business.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[120]</span>Mr. Carsdale was in—as events proved, Mr. Carsdale +was partaking of a cup of afternoon tea in Mrs. Walsingham’s +room, with Mrs. Walsingham and Mr. Shrewsbury. +Richard dragged Burgoyne in without ceremony; he had +taken to doing as he liked at Carsdale’s, and Griffkin +adored him because he was generous in the matter of half-crowns. +And hearing Burgoyne’s voice through the half-open +door, he darted out and ushered him in as if he himself +were lord and master.</p> + +<p>“But I came to see Mr. Carsdale on business,” said +Burgoyne, accepting, nevertheless, a cup of the best +China tea and a slice of cake at Mrs. Walsingham’s hands.</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” said Richard. “Carsdale isn’t a +conventional man of business. He can do business over +a tea-pot. And if its about the company you’re thinking +of getting up, Burgoyne, I’ve already given him a hint of +it—I knew you wouldn’t mind.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne glanced at Carsdale. Although his own +doings in the world had been confined to his military +duties and to his travels, he had cultivated whatever +opportunities had ever been afforded him in respect to +watching other men, and of deducing from their expression +of lip or eye what their inner thought might be, and he +now fancied that he detected on Carsdale’s face a certain +suggestion of wariness. Therefore he himself assumed +an air of almost careless indifference.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what our young friend there may have +told you,” he said, addressing Carsdale. “Something +very <i>couleur de rose</i>, no doubt. But the fact is, that all +I wanted to ask you at present is—supposing I do decide +to go in for forming a company to develop my ventures in +South America—may I consult you in the initial stages? +I know nothing of company promoting, and I understand +you do.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[121]</span>“Oh, with pleasure, with pleasure!” responded Carsdale. +“Pray command me at any moment, Captain Burgoyne—I +shall be only too pleased to give you the benefit of whatever +experience I may have.”</p> + +<p>“And he has more experience than any man in London!” +declared Richard, confidently. “Put the matter in Carsdale’s +hands, and you’ll be all right, Burgoyne.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne replied that he would certainly call on Mr. +Carsdale when the matter was ripe, and would make an +appointment with him. And presently he rose to go. +Whereupon Richard said that he and Mrs. Walsingham +were going up town in his motor, which was down below, +and offered his friend a lift to anywhere in their direction. +Burgoyne declined the lift, but went down to the street +with them, and there took the opportunity of offering his +congratulations to Mrs. Walsingham, upon whose hand he +had already noticed the ring which Richard had bought +that morning. Mrs. Walsingham received his polite sayings +with becoming modesty; she seemed, however, at a loss +for words wherewith to answer them, and her youthful +cavalier cut in upon her confusion in his usual impetuous +manner.</p> + +<p>“I say, Burgoyne!” he exclaimed. “What about those +diamonds of yours? If you’ll sell them, I’ll buy them. +Will you?”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne turned upon him slowly.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” he said. “Those diamonds, Dick? No—I’ve +decided not to sell them, after all. Not even to you.”</p> + +<p>Richard manifested disappointment.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well!” he said. “Of course, they are family +heirlooms, aren’t they? By the by, what were they valued +at?”</p> + +<p>“You’re not a buyer, you know,” said Burgoyne, with a +laugh. “Oh, well—I don’t mind telling you. My diamonds, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[122]</span>Dick, are worth twelve thousand. But, as I said, +I’m not going to sell them—just yet, anyway. So restrain +your covetous soul.”</p> + +<p>Then he raised his hat to Mrs. Walsingham, who had +stepped into the car, and went off towards the Strand, +once more engrossed in thought. And presently he muttered +to himself a certain question, which had been repeating +itself in his brain for the last hour: “Who was it +opened that safe when Leverton was ill—who—who?”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[123]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XV<br> +<span class="large">MRS. WALSINGHAM ADMITS</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham had listened to the brief conversation +between Burgoyne and Richard with an interest which she +had taken care not to show. She had had an idea that +Burgoyne was watching her while he talked, as if he had +wanted to observe the effect of the conversation upon her; +the same feeling had been upon her upstairs. And it had +seemed to her that when Richard had first mentioned the +diamonds, Burgoyne had given her a sharp glance, which +she had pretended not to see.</p> + +<p>“And yet,” she thought, as the car got away from +Norfolk Street, “it may have been all fancy, all nervousness, +on my part. Didn’t I hear him say that his diamonds +were worth twelve thousand? If he thinks that, +then, of course, he hasn’t found out anything, and I dare +say everything is all right—yet.”</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Walsingham was not the sort of woman to +leave any concern of hers, however small, to chance, and +she meant to know precisely where she was. Wherefore, +later in the evening, when she and Richard were dining +at a very fashionable restaurant to which they had taken +a fancy because it was so exclusive as to be very quiet, she +brought round the conversation to the events of the afternoon, +intent on improving her knowledge.</p> + +<p>“What were those diamonds that you and Captain Burgoyne +were talking about this afternoon, just before you +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[124]</span>got into the car?” she asked, with a good assumption of +fairly interested indifference.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” answered Richard, who had already forgotten all +about the diamonds. “Didn’t I tell you? Burgoyne has +a diamond necklace which is believed to have been the +property of—what was the name of Napoleon’s wife, or, at +any rate, one of them?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” answered Mrs. Walsingham. “I’m not +good at the history of anything that doesn’t concern me.”</p> + +<p>“I remember, now,” continued Richard. “Maria Louisa. +It’s been in the Burgoyne family over a hundred +years—you’ve never heard of it, then?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham favoured her fiancé with an upward +glance of her beautiful eyes.</p> + +<p>“How should I have ever heard of it?” she asked. “I +never saw Captain Burgoyne until he came to the office the +other day.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I thought, perhaps——” began Richard, and then +he paused. It had been on the tip of his tongue to tell +her that the famous necklace had lain in pawn in Leverton’s +safe, within a yard or two of herself, for three +years, but a sudden instinct stopped him as he reflected +that no one but Burgoyne, Francis Leverton, Mr. Winch +and himself knew of the transaction. “No, hang it!” he +thought. “I mustn’t talk of Burgoyne’s private affairs. +Oh, I fancied you might have heard of it,” he continued, +aloud, “seeing that it’s a bit famous, you know. However, +Burgoyne was talking of it this morning when he breakfasted +with me, and he said he thought he’d sell it, and I +offered to buy it—that’s all.”</p> + +<p>“He said it was valued at twelve thousand,” said Mrs. +Walsingham. “What did you want to buy a diamond +necklace worth that for?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[125]</span>“To give to you, of course,” answered Richard. +“Every man gives his wife diamonds.”</p> + +<p>“Every man does nothing of the sort. You must not +think of such a thing, Richard,” said Mrs. Walsingham +with a fine air of wifely protection. “I should be miserable +if I thought that you believed me to be that sort of +woman who is perpetually expecting gifts of that sort. +Do be a sensible boy!—I suppose that if Burgoyne had +been willing to sell, you’d have written a cheque for twelve +thousand there and then?”</p> + +<p>Richard laughed. At that time, what with his knowledge +of his investments, his prospects, and his boundless +faith in Carsdale, twelve thousand pounds seemed a mere +bagatelle to expend on the woman one was going to marry.</p> + +<p>“I suppose I should!” he said.</p> + +<p>“How foolish—and how thoughtless!” exclaimed Mrs. +Walsingham. “Pray, what do either you or Burgoyne +know about the value of such things? I’m sure you, at +any rate, couldn’t tell whether a stone such as this, for +instance, is worth five pounds or five hundred pounds.”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Richard, “I couldn’t. But,” he added, +with a smile of great wisdom, “jewellers can, being experts. +Burgoyne took his necklace to Levanter’s this morning, +just to have it valued. You know Levanter’s?—I should +think they know the worth of diamonds!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham, who was just then eating an ice, and +qualifying its coldness with her own pet liqueur, received +with seeming indifference the highly important information +which she had been angling for.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she said. “So Levanter valued it at twelve +thousand, did he? Of course he would know. But +promise me, Richard”—here she took advantage of the fact +that they were quite alone in a nook-and-corner to lay a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[126]</span>hand on Richard’s and to give his a slight pressure—“promise +me that you’ll never, never, never buy these or +any other diamonds without consulting me? You see, I +know how impetuous you are, and there are so many dishonest +people about.”</p> + +<p>Richard felt touched at this kindly desire to shield him.</p> + +<p>“All right, Sylvie,” he said. “Of course, I won’t. +I know you know a lot more than I do. Though it would +have been all right buying these things from Burgoyne on +Levanter’s valuation, wouldn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course!” replied Mrs. Walsingham, sweetly. +“But you are not to buy them—on Levanter’s valuation +or anybody else’s.”</p> + +<p>Levanter’s valuation! That was what puzzled her. +When she was alone that night she sat down to think things +out. Like all people who live by their wits, she was more +or less of an adept at presenting matters to herself, as +well as to others, in a clear and lucid fashion, and it did +not take her long to sum up the present position of affairs. +And when the summing up was done, Mrs. Walsingham’s +pretty face was puckered with lines which indicated that +she was puzzled and doubtful. She knew that she ought +not to allow her face to be puckered, that she ought not +to frown, that, whatever happened, she ought to keep on +smiling, since smiles are conducive to a youthful appearance +and frowns are not. But the situation was embarrassing, +even if it was not awkward.</p> + +<p>This was how Mrs. Walsingham summed it up. There +was now no doubt in her mind that Burgoyne had redeemed +his pledge from Frances Leverton and Mr. Septimus +Winch acting as executors of Barclay Leverton. He had +taken what they handed to him as being the real necklace +which he had deposited with Leverton. And what he had +been so handed he had that very morning—according to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[127]</span>Richard—shown to Levanter, and Levanter had valued +it at twelve thousand pounds.</p> + +<p>This was what puzzled Mrs. Walsingham more than +anything had ever puzzled her in her life—that Levanter +should put such a value on something which she knew +only too well was worth—well, never mind what. And +she had smoked several cigarettes before she came to the +conclusion that Levanter had never really examined the +necklace. She reconstructed the scene for herself. Burgoyne +had probably had the necklace on him; he had pulled +it out, shown it to the jeweller, and asked, in an off-hand +way, what such an article should be worth. And Levanter, +not examining it over carefully or critically, perhaps not +even handling it, but forming a rough idea from long +experience, had answered that it should be worth about +twelve thousand—and Burgoyne had put his property in +his pocket again. That was it, that must be it!—there +could be no other explanation.</p> + +<p>But—that did not answer the question which she was +putting to herself, had been putting to herself ever since +she had found out that what passed for the genuine necklace +was undoubtedly in Burgoyne’s possession. That +question was a plain one. It was an unmistakably plain +question. And it was packed easily into five simple +words—</p> + +<p>“How long am I safe?”</p> + +<p>She went on reckoning up all the pros and cons of the +case as she sat there, long after midnight, smoking. The +whole place was very quiet, for Sophie Guyner had gone +to bed, and there was not even the ticking of a clock to +disturb her. But she thought so intently that she never +noticed whether the quietness was deep or not; she would +have thought matters out in the crowded streets of the +City.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[128]</span>How long was she safe? Burgoyne might change his +mind—he might decide to sell the necklace. The purchaser-in-prospect +would certainly have the valuable +article valued on which he was to lay out so much; then +would follow inevitable inquiry—not as to everything, but +as to so much of everything as would certainly lead to +unpleasant investigations into the character, history and +antecedents of everybody who had been in connection with +Barclay Leverton during the past three years. And, as +one of the people who had been very closely connected +with the top floor of Abbotsbury House, but much more +as the prospective bride of a young man who was worth +three hundred thousand pounds, Mrs. Walsingham had no +desire for inquiries or investigations of any sort, and she +knew quite well that Mr. John Carsdale would share her +feelings.</p> + +<p>She threw away her last cigarette as she thought of +Carsdale. And her puzzled countenance suddenly cleared +as she began to make ready for her night’s rest.</p> + +<p>“I may as well make a clean breast of it to Jack,” she +thought. “After all, two heads are better than one.”</p> + +<p>Then she slept like an innocent child—and in the morning +awoke refreshed and ready for the fray. And beginning +to exercise her generalship at once, she telephoned +to Richard, and told him that he was on no account to +present himself at Abbotsbury House before five o’clock +that day: she had arrears of work, she said, which had accumulated +through his habit of dropping in at any hour +he chose to, and they must be cleared off. She spoke imperatively, +and Richard promised to obey; she was just +as imperative later on, at the office, when, at noon, Miss +Rousby and Griffkin being out, taking much needed refreshment +at neighbouring places of popular resort, she +informed Carsdale that she wanted to have a talk to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[129]</span>Carsdale knew from experience that a certain tone in +Mrs. Walsingham’s voice, a certain look in her eye, meant +that she wanted to have his most serious advice on some +equally serious matter. He followed her into her room, +and took a chair at her desk.</p> + +<p>“There’s nobody can interrupt,” said Mrs. Walsingham. +“The girl and the boy are out, and I’ve put up +the notice at the door. Jack—I’m in a devil of a mess! +It may spoil all—for both of us. So each of us has just +got to think pretty hard.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale lighted a cigar—it was his way of showing +that he was all attention. And Mrs. Walsingham proceeded.</p> + +<p>“You remember when Captain Burgoyne first came +here the other day?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” replied Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“But you didn’t know why he came?”</p> + +<p>“Came to see Leverton—who happened to be dead.”</p> + +<p>“He came to redeem something on which Leverton had +advanced him some money,” said Mrs. Walsingham. “It +wasn’t here, of course. Frances and old Winch took it +away the day of Leverton’s death.”</p> + +<p>“What was it?” asked Carsdale, still only mildly +curious. “Anything good?”</p> + +<p>“It was a diamond necklace, worth about eleven or +twelve thousand pounds,” replied Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>Carsdale stared.</p> + +<p>“Great Scott!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t know that +Leverton ever did anything of that sort. How did you +come to hear of it?”</p> + +<p>“Found it out,” answered Mrs. Walsingham. “He +lent Burgoyne five thousand pounds towards the expenses +of his expedition and held the diamond necklace as security. +Burgoyne came to pay principal and interest the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[130]</span>other day, and as Leverton was dead, of course, he had to +go to Winch’s.”</p> + +<p>“I remember—I remember!” said Carsdale. “Yes—of +course, I didn’t know why he came here. Oh, yes, to be +sure, Shrewsbury went over there to Winch’s with him.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham gave her <i>vis-à-vis</i> a keen look.</p> + +<p>“That, of course, is how I have been able to supplement +what information I already had,” she observed; “the boy +and Burgoyne are friends.”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” said Carsdale. “Yes? Well—I suppose +Burgoyne paid his money and took his security. Yes?”</p> + +<p>“He paid the five thousand pounds and the interest on +it for three years,” replied Mrs. Walsingham. “And they +handed over to him what they and he believed to be the +diamond necklace which he had given to Leverton.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale suddenly started and faced sharply round.</p> + +<p>“Believed!” he exclaimed. “Then—it wasn’t?”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t,” said Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“Then where—where is the real one?” demanded Carsdale.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham bent over the desk and sank her voice +to a whisper.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got it!” she answered.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[131]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVI<br> +<span class="large">CONSPIRATORS</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Carsdale was not often surprised, but he was so much +surprised by Mrs. Walsingham’s frank admission that he +dropped his cigar. And when he had picked it up and +again confronted her, his eyes were still wide with astonishment.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got it?” he exclaimed. “You?”</p> + +<p>“I!” answered Mrs. Walsingham, calmly. “I!”</p> + +<p>Carsdale took a few pulls at his cigar, regained his composure, +and lay back in his chair.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” he said at last. “Very well. Now, as we’re +quite free from interruption, you’d better tell me all about +it. Of course, Sylvie, you—stole it?”</p> + +<p>“I took it from Mr. Leverton’s safe—certainly,” she +answered. “It wasn’t difficult to do that. What wasn’t +easy was to get a duplicate made—a duplicate of such +good workmanship as to the setting, and such fine paste +as to the stones, as to be a perfect facsimile.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale slapped his knee.</p> + +<p>“A facsimile—a duplicate?” he said. “I see—I see! +Then—it is the duplicate which Burgoyne carried away +from Winch’s?”</p> + +<p>“Precisely,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“You substituted the imitation for the original in +Leverton’s safe, then?” said Carsdale, with a nod at the +wall. “That was clever. Ah! And the duplicate——”</p> + +<p>“Was so good that nobody could have seen any difference +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[132]</span>between it and the real thing,” said Mrs. Walsingham. +“But you know, Jack, all these things come to +light in the end, and the first time Burgoyne has that +duplicate examined by an expert, or even by a good +jeweller, he’ll find out he’s been cheated.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Carsdale. “Well? I knew that, of +course.”</p> + +<p>“And he won’t suspect Leverton,” continued Mrs. +Walsingham, “and he won’t suspect Frances, nor Winch, +and, of course, he won’t suspect the bankers. He’ll suspect—you +and me!”</p> + +<p>“Good God!” exclaimed Carsdale. “Why us?”</p> + +<p>“Because we had free access to Leverton’s room, there, +during his illness—and at other times,” replied Mrs. +Walsingham.</p> + +<p>Carsdale nodded his agreement of this view.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, after due deliberation. “Yes, I suppose +he will. And then——”</p> + +<p>“And then he’ll begin inquiring and investigating, and +no doubt setting private agents to work,” continued Mrs. +Walsingham, “and a good deal might, or, rather, would be +found out that——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes!” interrupted Carsdale, impatiently. “Cut +all that out—I know it by heart. Well, Sylvie?” Mrs. +Walsingham looked at him fixedly.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said. “Well, then it wouldn’t be well! It +would be all up with my engagement to the boy, and he’d +take all his business out of your hands, and——”</p> + +<p>“And it seems to me you’ve gone a good way to land +both of us in a nice mess!” he broke in, half-angrily. +“Why did you do it? It was—theft!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham’s lip curled.</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t let’s get to fine distinctions,” she said +scornfully. “There are all sorts of ways of thieving—you +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[133]</span>know the delicately polite ones. I took it because—I +wanted it.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale growled inarticulately and began to look sullen.</p> + +<p>“Where is the damned thing?” he asked. “Sold, I +suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Pawned,” answered Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“How much?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“A thousand,” she said. “It’s a private arrangement, +and the thing’s safe. Never mind that—I want us to use +our brains.”</p> + +<p>“In what way?” asked Carsdale, gazing at her sulkily. +“The thing’s done.”</p> + +<p>“No!” she said. “It’s beginning. The great thing is +to prevent any scandal arising. Now, listen, Jack. It’s +evident that Burgoyne believes himself to be in possession +of the real thing. He isn’t. How would it be to put him +in possession of it—I mean the absolutely, real thing—before +his suspicions are aroused?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale’s ears pricked at the suggestion of intrigue +and craft. He sat up in his chair and threw away his +cigar.</p> + +<p>“How?” he asked, with newly-awakened interest.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham picked up a sheet of paper from her +desk and began to tear it into strips—a sure sign in her, +as Carsdale knew, that she was devising plans. He let +her take her time, and meanwhile made some mental reflections +of his own on her revelations, which had taken him +not a little aback.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said, at last, having torn two or three sheets +of note-paper into ribbons. “There are ways. I could, +for instance, redeem the necklace——”</p> + +<p>“Naturally, if you’ve got the money,” said Carsdale. +“That’s an important detail, Sylvie.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham gave him a glance which was intended +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[134]</span>to warn him not to interpolate irrelevant remarks, and +went on.</p> + +<p>“I could, I say, redeem the thing and send it to him +in such a fashion that he would never know where it came +from,” she continued. “But that would never do, because +we’re not concerned with making restitution, and, so far, +he doesn’t know that he hasn’t got the real necklace. +What I want to do is put the real necklace back into +his possession before he even finds out that it’s ever been—stolen. +Do you see that—do you understand it?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly,” answered Carsdale. “This is the position. +The gentleman—we’ll call him B—doesn’t know +that he has been robbed. C, who has robbed him, doesn’t +want him to know. Therefore C designs to restore to +him that of which he has been robbed before he discovers +his loss. That’s it, eh?”</p> + +<p>“You’ve got it,” said Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>Carsdale lighted another cigar.</p> + +<p>“Unfortunately,” he said, dryly, “unfortunately, there’s +a serious feature of the case. The gentleman believes +himself to be in actual, material, bodily possession of the +very article which has been abstracted. In plain English, +Sylvie, Burgoyne thinks he’s got the necklace. How’re +you going to get over that, eh?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham laughed gently.</p> + +<p>“That’s my great plan, Jack,” she said. “By—substitution.”</p> + +<p>“Substitution?” he said. “You mean——”</p> + +<p>“I mean by substituting the necklace which I have for +the one he has,” replied Mrs. Walsingham. “Giving him +the real in exchange for the false, don’t you see?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Carsdale did see, and he nodded his head admiringly.</p> + +<p>“That’s a clever notion, Sylvie,” he said, “and you’re +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[135]</span>a clever woman for hitting on it. And—a mere detail—how +are you going to put it into execution?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham again began to tear up sheets of paper. +And, when she next spoke, she bent her eyes over her +task instead of looking at her companion. “Haven’t you +got some hold over that man, Kedgin, Richard’s valet?” +she asked, a little diffidently.</p> + +<p>Carsdale laughed—and there was something in his laugh, +which she did not like. “Well?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Burgoyne is taking up his quarters with Richard for +a few weeks,” she went on, still busied with her task. +“Kedgin will valet him.”</p> + +<p>“According to what Richard says, Burgoyne always +carries that necklace in his pocket,” Mrs. Walsingham continued, +“so that I thought that if——”</p> + +<p>Carsdale laughed again.</p> + +<p>“Let me finish your sentence for you,” he said. “You +thought that as I have a hold on Kedgin I could get him to +substitute the true necklace for the false one. Good, +Sylvie—but it won’t do. And for a very simple reason—it +is quite true that I have a hold on Mr. William Kedgin, +as you say. But I don’t propose to give Mr. Kedgin +a hold on me.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham looked up and threw away her scraps +of paper.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” she said. “Then I must do it myself.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale nodded approvingly.</p> + +<p>“Better, much better, Sylvie!” he said. “But—how?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t quite thought that out yet,” she answered. +“But I shall. It can be done. It’s got to be done—and +done soon.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale got slowly out of his chair and began to stride +about the room, puffing out clouds of cigar-smoke.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what,” he said, after a period of thought. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[136]</span>“An idea occurs to me. Didn’t Shrewsbury say something +about giving a dinner to Burgoyne, and asking you +and me to meet him? Yes—well, get him to give it at +his rooms—you can persuade him to anything—tell him +we shall be more comfortable—no, tell him you’ve taken +a fancy to dine there. He’s floods of wine, and he can +have the dinner sent in. That’s point one—d’you see?”</p> + +<p>“I see,” she answered.</p> + +<p>“Very well. Point two,” continued Carsdale. “We +dine. Over the wine and walnuts, or their modern equivalents, +we lead the conversation to diamonds, and you express +a wish to see the famous necklace which once encircled +the throat of—never mind who she was—Marie +Antoinette?—oh, Maria Louisa. Very good—Burgoyne +cannot refuse a lady. The necklace is produced and +handed round—eventually it comes into my hands, Sylvie. +Do you remember that I used to amuse myself with conjuring +tricks?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham’s eyes suddenly brightened. She +nodded eagerly.</p> + +<p>“Yes—yes!” she answered. “I do!”</p> + +<p>“Well—I’m still good enough to do a few good tricks +at children’s parties,” said Carsdale, laughing. “Now, +listen. The imitation necklace, I say, comes into my +hands. You have already provided me with the real one. +Hey presto!—the thing is done! I change one for the +other.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham rose.</p> + +<p>“That seems the plan of campaign, Jack,” she said. +“Very good. I’m going to redeem the real thing now, +and then I’ll set to work on the dinner business—there’ll +be no difficulty about that.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve got the money?” asked Carsdale. “If not—”</p> + +<p>“Thanks, but I have,” she said, tapping her handbag. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[137]</span>“And it’s my own, too. I only pawned it for a thousand—to +keep it safe.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not yet quite sure why you—annexed it!” said +Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“For a reserve fund—in case anything ever happened,” +she answered, looking steadily at him. “I figured the +whole thing out, and I saw that I stood to win. Burgoyne +might never have come back, you see.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Carsdale. “Yes, of course. It was a good, +sporting chance.” He leaned his arms over the top of +the desk and smiled at her whimsically. “I’ve a notion,” +he said. “If Burgoyne would have sold, why not have +let Shrewsbury buy the imitation necklace as the real one? +Then you have ’em both in your possession, and you destroy +the false and keep the genuine—and diamonds don’t +lose much value, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but Burgoyne won’t sell,” she answered. “I’d +had some idea like that. At first he thought he would sell, +and then, yesterday afternoon, he said definitely, in my +presence, that he wouldn’t. But that would have been +a good plan. The great thing is to so arrange matters +that he never knows—the truth.”</p> + +<p>“Ye-es,” agreed Carsdale. “Ye-es, that’s so. I should +say, from the looks of him, that if that chap were set on +a trail he’d keep his nose to earth until he’d run something +down. Better get on with everything as quickly +as possible, Sylvie—especially the dinner. And—leave the +conjuring to me.”</p> + +<p>So Mrs. Walsingham went out, and it being lunch time, +she ate and drank with a relieved mind. She had been +seriously concerned when she thought of what might—nay, +would!—happen if Ralph Burgoyne discovered the +truth; now, knowing Carsdale’s powers, resource and +coolness in emergencies, she felt that the gods were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[138]</span>fighting for her. It would be no difficult matter for a +sharp man like Carsdale to substitute one necklace for the +other: he would do it easily. And that done, no one +would ever know of what she had done, and she would +marry Richard and his money—and be safe.</p> + +<p>She went off after she had lunched, and redeemed the +precious necklace, and she carried it back to Abbotsbury +House in her handbag, and there—Carsdale being out—locked +it up in a secret drawer until she went home. After +which, she condescended to business for the rest of the +afternoon.</p> + +<p>But at five o’clock Richard came in, and she saw at once, +from a mere look at his face, that he had something to +tell her.</p> + +<p>“I say, Sylvie!” he exclaimed. “I lunched with Burgoyne—he +came for me to the club. And, I say, he says +that he’ll sell me that necklace, after all—it’s a white elephant +to him. And he swears that he won’t take more +than ten thousand for it. I told him I wouldn’t do anything +without consulting you, so he gave it to me to show +you. Here it is!—and you must let me give it to you, +Sylvie—you must!” And he placed on the blotter-pad +before her the counterfeit of the real thing which lay in +security only a few feet away.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[139]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVII<br> +<span class="large">A STUDENT OF PROBLEMS</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>When Burgoyne left Mrs. Walsingham and Richard +Shrewsbury at the door of Abbotsbury House and went off +asking himself the ever-recurring question as to the opening +of the safe, he was also conscious that another very +unpleasant impression was rapidly forcing itself to an +absolute conviction in his mind—namely, that Richard was +in the hands of unscrupulous people. Long habit had +helped Burgoyne to sum up character quickly; he was +well aware that he had not been favourably impressed by +either Carsdale or Mrs. Walsingham; what he had seen +of them that afternoon had not impressed him any more +favourably. He had been quick to observe a certain wariness +in Carsdale’s manner towards himself; a certain +watchfulness in Mrs. Walsingham’s beautiful eyes: each, +in some strange and subtle fashion, seemed to suggest, +more than to show, a certain suspicion of him, as if they secretly +wondered what he was after. The more he thought +over the signs, circumstances, facts, the less he liked their +look; he had privately thought his young friend from Trinidad +a fool for becoming engaged to a woman of whom it +was impossible he could know much; now he became seriously +alarmed about him.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid my diamond necklace is a mere detail, a +paltry incident,” he thought, as he strolled westward along +the crowded Strand. “If those people really have had a +hand in cheating me out of it, they’re quite capable of +helping themselves pretty freely to Master Dick’s money. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[140]</span>The woman can do it by settlements, and presents, and +heaven knows what, and all in a legal way; the man seems +as astute a person as I’ve seen in my time. And the question +as usual, is—what to do?”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne began to cast about in his mind for some answer +to this question. And looking in one direction after +another, and turning up one path only to retrace his steps +and take a second, he suddenly thought of a name, and +at the thought threw up his head with an involuntary +exclamation thereby arousing the wonder of sundry approaching +pedestrians who had been attracted by his +bronzed face and keen eyes.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” he said. “Gavin Blair!”</p> + +<p>Then, as he shouldered his way along, a little more +quickly, he muttered: “The very man—if I can lay hands +on him.”</p> + +<p>At the thought of Gavin Blair, Burgoyne’s mind turned +a long way back. He remembered days at Sandhurst, +when he and Blair were boys together; he remembered +after-days at Aldershot, and at various more or less dismal +garrison towns in England and Ireland, when they were +subalterns in the same foot regiment; he remembered +certain foreign stations, and at any rate, one little experience +of active service in which Blair had lost his left +arm, and thereby got his dismissal from all soldiering +for ever. But more than these things, he remembered +Blair’s peculiar bent from his earliest years. Although he +was a keen and hard working soldier, he had many other +interests—he had always shown a great taste for literature, +for art, and for music. And when he had been +obliged to leave the Army, he had turned to what had been +his hobbies as subjects for the serious business of life, and +before Burgoyne had left England on his last expedition, +had become widely known as the author of two or three +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[141]</span>remarkable novels in which psychology played a considerable +part, and as an art critic of no mean order.</p> + +<p>But beyond his creative and critical faculties, Blair possessed +another which just then appealed to Burgoyne with +particular force. He had always taken a delight in working +out curious and intricate problems, and on more than +one occasion had achieved results so surprisingly true and +accurate, that Burgoyne had put his ability down to some +remarkable hereditary gift not unconnected with his Gaelic +ancestry. Amongst his friends Blair had made a reputation +for seeing to the bottom of things with amazing +clearness and speed; difficult problems which puzzled +really clever heads were solved by him with a sureness +that was almost uncanny. And Burgoyne remembered his +name with a great sense of relief. Gavin Blair was the +very man he wanted.</p> + +<p>Turning a little aside from the throng, Burgoyne took +out a much-worn pocket-book, and found a page on which +the pencilled memoranda had grown almost illegible. +But he was able to make out Blair’s address, and he drew +out his watch.</p> + +<p>“Half-past five,” he murmured. “I’ll drive down there +on the chance.”</p> + +<p>Blair lived—or had lived when the address which Burgoyne +had just consulted was written—in a palatial building, +given up to flats, which overlooked the Thames from +the excellent vantage point of the Chelsea Embankment. +Burgoyne, entering the hall of this building from his taxi-cab, +was greatly relieved to see his old friend’s name still +showing on the list of tenants; he was still more relieved +when, on knocking at Blair’s outer door, it was opened +almost immediately, by Blair himself—a tall, athletic-looking +man, grizzled of hair and moustache, who, but for +the empty sleeve pinned up to his tweed jacket, would have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[142]</span>been taken for one who was continually engaged in something +that required physical exertion. He stretched out +a big hand, looking steadily at his visitor out of steel-blue +eyes.</p> + +<p>“Come in, Burgoyne,” he said quietly. “I was expecting +you.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne gripped the big hand and followed its owner +across an entrance hall into a wide spaced room overlooking +the river—a room which seemed to be full of books and +pictures and papers, and of a grand piano in a wonderful +case, and yet communicated an idea of airiness and +breadth. He dropped into the chair which Blair drew +forward and looked at his old friend with a certain curious +questioning in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“You were expecting me!” he said. “Do you mean—now?”</p> + +<p>“Now,” replied Blair. “It is not five minutes since, +writing at that desk, I suddenly said to myself, ‘Ralph +Burgoyne is coming here—he is almost here.’ So I put the +writing aside. Have a drink—and help yourself to what +you want in the way of tobacco.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne picked a cigarette out of a box and lighted it +thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“So the old instinct, or power, or whatever it is, is still +there?” he said. “But I supposed it would be. And +that’s why I came down just now. Of course, I was coming +to find you as soon as I could. I’ve a lot to do, as +you’ll readily understand. But I want your advice. +I’ve a difficult problem before me, and I believe you’re +the one man in London who can help to a proper solution +of it. Do you mind if I tell you about it—now.”</p> + +<p>Blair filled a big briarwood pipe out of a curious old +tobacco jar, and sat down in an easy chair in front of Burgoyne.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[143]</span>“Now, go ahead,” he said. “And don’t forget to begin +at the very beginning, and to tell everything, and don’t +hurry—my time is my own.”</p> + +<p>“Thanks,” said Burgoyne. “Very well, then—to begin +at the beginning....”</p> + +<p>Blair had smoked three pipes and the evening was drawing +on by the time Burgoyne made an end of his story. +He told it as clearly, yet as fully, as he could, from the +time of his negotiations with Barclay Leverton to that +afternoon; he told of how he had come to know young +Richard Shrewsbury; he reiterated his belief in Barclay +Leverton and in his daughter, and in Mr. Winch; he +expressed his curious suspicions of Carsdale and of Mrs. +Walsingham. And Blair listened quietly and steadily, +rarely interrupting except to ask a question on some point +of fact.</p> + +<p>“And that’s all,” said Burgoyne, at last. “Now you +know everything. Tell me what you think when you’re +ready to tell.”</p> + +<p>Blair took his big pipe out of his mouth and blew a +spiral of smoke towards the ceiling.</p> + +<p>“I can tell you something of what I think now,” he said. +“I think your necklace is going to be a means of salvation +for that youngster.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne gave his friend a puzzled look.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” he said. “I should be glad to think that anything +of mine would do him good. But—how?”</p> + +<p>“Because I have not the slightest doubt in the world that +she is the guilty party,” answered Blair. “The man—Carsdale—may +be in it, but I should say not. Now, if you +can establish the woman’s guilt, establish it so completely +that there can be no doubt about it, there will be no marriage. +No lad of that sort, however chivalrous he may be, +and however impressionable, will marry a thief.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[144]</span>“Well,” said Burgoyne hesitatingly, “—ye-es—I see +that. But—supposing there is a hasty marriage?”</p> + +<p>“There won’t be a hasty marriage, in all probability, +so long as her suspicions are not aroused,” answered +Blair. “Wherefore, it behoves you to move with great +caution. Alarm her, and you’ll have the boy rushing off +to Doctors’ Commons for a special licence. Go slow, +Burgoyne. But I think you need not fear a hasty marriage, +on other grounds. She will want settlements, and so +on. You have time.”</p> + +<p>“But what’s to be done?” asked Burgoyne. “I don’t +want publicity. I’m not going to call in police and detectives +and all that sort of thing.”</p> + +<p>“By no means,” said Blair. “I don’t think there’s any +need: I think you can do much yourself. There are +certain questions which suggest themselves to me at once. +Let me tabulate them:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<div class="hangingindent"> +<p>“<i>First.</i> Who are Mr. John Carsdale and Mrs. Sylvie Walsingham +in reality, and what were their relations with the +late Barclay Leverton?</p> + +<p>“<i>Second.</i> Under what conditions was Mrs. Walsingham living +previous to the arrival of Richard Shrewsbury?</p> +</div></div> + +<p>“And I have a third notion, which I will tell you of +a little later. Now——”</p> + +<p>“I can answer the second myself, at present,” said +Burgoyne. “Shrewsbury has told me that Mrs. Walsingham +lives in—well, a fairly luxurious state in an expensive +flat.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Blair. “That is something to know. +Now, as to the first question—you tell me that you met +Miss Frances Leverton at the solicitor’s when you redeemed +your property. What sort of young woman is she?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[145]</span>Burgoyne gave himself up to a moment’s reflection.</p> + +<p>“I should say a cool-headed, practical, business-like +young woman,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“The sort that can keep counsel if necessary?” asked +Blair.</p> + +<p>“I should say, emphatically, yes,” replied Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“You said that young Shrewsbury told you that Miss +Leverton is, in some fashion, carrying on her father’s business. +Do you know where?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, at her private residence in Maida Vale,” said +Burgoyne. “I know that, because Shrewsbury wanted +me to entrust some of my business to her, and I said I +wouldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Did you? Well, but I want you to do some business +with her, now,” said Blair. “I have formed the +opinion that Miss Leverton will prove most useful to you +in this affair. Don’t ask me the whys and wherefores, but +sit down at that desk and write what I am going to dictate. +Now, write:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Miss Leverton</span>,—</p> + +<p>“I understand that you are in some sense your father’s successor +in business, and I should be glad to have an interview +with you. I will call upon you to-morrow morning at 11 o’clock, +and I shall take the liberty of bringing with me a friend, Captain +Blair, who is interested in the matter.</p> + +<p class="right"><span class="indentright">“Yours faithfully,</span><br> +“<span class="smcap">Ralph Burgoyne</span>.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“Now, Burgoyne,” continued Blair, “you will write +that out on your own note-paper as soon as you get home, +and post it to-night. To-morrow morning, I shall call +for you at Shrewsbury’s rooms at half-past ten, and on +our way to Maida Vale I shall coach you in what you’re to +say to Miss Leverton on our arrival. And now, old boy, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[146]</span>run away, for I have an article to finish before dinner—you +must tell me all about your travels when—well, when +we’ve got this very nasty affair over.”</p> + +<p>So Burgoyne went off, not a little mystified by Blair’s +advice, but fully trusting in it and wholly confident of +his old friend’s powers, and in due course he transcribed +the letter to Frances Leverton, who was as much surprised +in receiving it as Burgoyne had been in taking it down +from Blair’s dictation. She was a little nervous and fluttered +when the two gentlemen were announced, but she remembered +that her great desire in life was to cultivate a +sternly business-like manner, and Blair was secretly +amused at the somewhat off-hand manner in which she received +them, pointing them to chairs, and resumed her +seat at her desk.</p> + +<p>“What can I do for you, Captain Burgoyne?” she asked, +almost brusquely.</p> + +<p>Burgoyne, carefully coached by Blair, looked into the +lining of his hat. He showed signs of embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“Well, the fact is, Miss Leverton,” he said, “the fact +is—I wished to see you on a most important matter, which +is also an unpleasant one.”</p> + +<p>“Unpleasant?” said Frances.</p> + +<p>“Unpleasant for me,” answered Burgoyne, still repeating +his lesson. “You remember that I received from you +and Mr. Winch the other day what purported to be the +diamond necklace which I had deposited with your +father?”</p> + +<p>“Purported!” exclaimed Frances. “Purported, Captain +Burgoyne?”</p> + +<p>“I said purported, Miss Leverton,” repeated Burgoyne +quietly. “You see, what I really did receive was a mere +counterfeit—quite valueless—of my own property.”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[147]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XVIII<br> +<span class="large">BLAIR’S THIRD NOTION</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>It required no particular powers of observation on the +part of the two men who were watching her to see that +Burgoyne’s announcement gave Frances Leverton the +greatest surprise of her life. It was a surprise which did +not show itself by any sudden rush of colour to her face, +by any sudden starting of her body; rather, it left her +outwardly calm and motionless, as if she had been turned +into a statue. But presently, amidst the silence which had +fallen upon all three of them, she lifted her hands to +the elbows of her desk-chair, and, bending forward towards +Burgoyne, spoke in what was little more than a +whisper.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to tell me that what you took away from +the bank was not your necklace—the Maria Louisa necklace?” +she said. “Do you?”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne was beginning to hate the situation. He +thought there was something to admire in this girl; in +her direct gaze, her candid and fearless expression; it was +unpleasant to feel that she was being dragged into all this +miserable and sordid story of theft.</p> + +<p>“I’m sorry,” he said. “But—it wasn’t.”</p> + +<p>Frances bent still nearer.</p> + +<p>“It was not what you gave my father?” she said in intent +tones.</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Burgoyne. “No!”</p> + +<p>“Then—it was an imitation, a duplicate?” she asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[148]</span>Burgoyne inclined his head—for speech he was feeling +less and less desire. But the girl went on.</p> + +<p>“Then this imitation must have been substituted for the +real article while it was in my father’s possession?” she +said.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid so,” replied Burgoyne, miserably, and beginning +to wish that he had never heard of the Maria +Louisa necklace. “I’m afraid so. You see, Miss Leverton, +I——”</p> + +<p>But Frances suddenly interrupted him. She was sitting +upright now, and there was a bright spot of colour on each +cheek. She nodded at Captain Blair.</p> + +<p>“Who is this gentleman?” she asked. “A detective?”</p> + +<p>There was something in the girl’s tone that made Burgoyne +wince. But Blair smiled and responded to Burgoyne’s +direct glance at him.</p> + +<p>“No, I am really what my card describes me to be, Miss +Leverton,” he said. “But I am also a very old friend of +Captain Burgoyne, to whom he came for counsel and advice +in this matter. I advised him strongly to come +straight to you and to tell you what has happened, and +to——”</p> + +<p>“And look here, Miss Leverton,” broke in Burgoyne, +careless whether he interrupted Blair or not, “I want +to tell you at once that I have no suspicion of—of——”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” said Blair. “Miss Leverton need not be told +that you have no suspicion of any one into whose hands +the necklace came legitimately. She understands that by +your coming to her.”</p> + +<p>“If the real necklace is stolen, somebody must have +stolen it,” said Frances coldly. “And it must have been +stolen, and the false one substituted for it, while it was in +my father’s possession.”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” agreed Blair. “But—I think other people +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[149]</span>than your father had access to his room, from what Captain +Burgoyne tells me. There were—pardon me—people +about your father——”</p> + +<p>“There were people about my father whom I wouldn’t +have trusted with the value of a penny-piece!” the girl +suddenly broke out. “My father was far too easy-going. +People about him! My God—yes! What are you going +to do?” she asked, turning on Burgoyne. “Tell me—what +are you going to do?”</p> + +<p>But it was Blair who answered.</p> + +<p>“We are going to consult with you,” he said gently. +“That’s what we came for. Captain Burgoyne does not +want to make this matter public—he wants to pursue his +own course. And—to begin with—he wants you to tell +him all you know of two people who seem to have been +considerably mixed up in your father’s affairs—I am sure +you know whom I mean. And—there is a particular reason +why he should know all about the—woman.”</p> + +<p>Frances was watching Blair’s strong face with a growing +interest. She felt that here was a personality.</p> + +<p>“Why—about the woman?” she asked in a low voice.</p> + +<p>Blair looked her directly in the eyes.</p> + +<p>“Because young Mr. Shrewsbury has promised to marry +her,” he replied.</p> + +<p>For an instant a sudden flush of colour flamed into the +girl’s cheeks, and Blair, after one quick glance at her, +turned as quickly away to look at Burgoyne. And he was +thankful to see that the explorer, who was evidently much +troubled and concerned over the affair, or, rather, over +the unpleasantness of bringing Frances into it, was at that +moment engaged in the double task of endeavouring to +gnaw off a part of the handle of his umbrella and at the +same time to see something or other in the immaculate lining +of his silk hat. And Blair himself, continuing to talk, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[150]</span>kept his eyes for a while on the hearthrug at his feet, tracing +out its pattern with his walking-cane. He had seen +enough in that swift glance at the girl’s face, and he +wanted her to regain her composure.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Shrewsbury has become engaged to Mrs. Walsingham,” +he continued. “Now, Mr. Shrewsbury is a very +young, a very inexperienced man. He had no friends in +this country when he arrived here; he was to be taken in +easily by clever and unscrupulous people. Probably Captain +Burgoyne has the greatest right of any one in England +to consider himself Mr. Shrewsbury’s friend, for he +knew him before the boy came here, and he knew his +father, and had been his father’s guest, and he does not +like to think that this very innocent youth is contracting +a marriage with a woman of whom he knows nothing.”</p> + +<p>He paused and looked at Frances. She had recovered +herself by that time, and she was looking at him with an +expression which he did not quite understand. Was she +asking him to keep a secret which she had let slip for a +moment, or—what? He turned to Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“Have I put that correctly, Burgoyne?” he said, still +trifling to give Frances more time.</p> + +<p>“Quite correctly, from my point,” answered Burgoyne, +tearing himself away from the umbrella and the hat. “I’d +rather forfeit the necklace altogether than know that the +youngster was marrying a woman who—well, a woman +that his father wouldn’t have liked him to marry. The +father was a fine old chap.”</p> + +<p>Blair turned again to Frances.</p> + +<p>“Who is this woman, Miss Leverton?” he asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>Frances opened out her hands.</p> + +<p>“But I don’t know!” she answered. “I—I don’t know +anything whatever about her except that she is—there.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[151]</span>“Your father——” began Blair. But Frances stopped +him.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you, willingly, all I know about Mr. Carsdale +and Mrs. Walsingham,” she said. “I have no liking for +either of them, because I honestly believe them to be—well, +anything but straight—but I won’t let that influence +me in what I say. I first heard my father speak of Carsdale +about six years ago, when I was thirteen or fourteen; +my father used to tell me little business things, even +then, because my mother was dead, and he had no one else +to talk to. He said that he and Carsdale had entered into +some sort of partnership in certain things, and that Carsdale +was a very smart man, who could introduce business. +Carsdale began coming here about that time, and I never +liked him, though I never knew why. Then, about three +years ago, my father said that he and Carsdale were going +to have a lady secretary, a Mrs. Walsingham, who was +Carsdale’s cousin, and a young widow, and that she was +very clever in many ways. And so she came—and that is +practically all I know.”</p> + +<p>“Carsdale’s cousin, and a young widow?” said Blair. +“Widow of whom?”</p> + +<p>“Dick Shrewsbury,” broke in Burgoyne, “says that she’s +the widow of some chap named Walsingham, who was making +an expedition into Arabia or somewhere taking her +with him, where he was killed by the natives, she being rescued +by a friendly chief. But,” he added, with a sly +glance at his companions, “although I said nothing to the +youngster, I never heard of that affair, and I think I +should have done.”</p> + +<p>“A romantic story,” remarked Blair. “And one that +could, I suppose, be traced to its origin. But, Miss Leverton—you +are a business woman, and you doubtless have a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[152]</span>good many business relations with City folk. The great +thing to be desired in this matter is—privacy. Could you +not find out—quietly—what Carsdale’s career was before +he became associated with your father? He must have +been occupied previous to that, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But I believe he came from New York,” said Frances. +“I don’t think he had been long in England when my +father met him.”</p> + +<p>Blair looked at Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“But Carsdale’s not an American, is he?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“I should say, decidedly not,” answered Burgoyne. +“He uses an occasional American phrase, but I should take +him for a genuine Londoner, or, at any rate, an Englishman.”</p> + +<p>Blair gave himself up to a moment’s reflection.</p> + +<p>“The position seems to be this,” he said after awhile. +“Carsdale appears to have floated over the present horizon +six years ago; Mrs. Walsingham, his cousin, three years +ago. During that time—in spite of your instinctive dislike +of them, Miss Leverton—they seem to have run +straight. Your father, for example, never complained of +them?”</p> + +<p>“No—never,” answered Frances. “No—never as regards +himself. He used to laugh sometimes and say that +Carsdale was as sharp as a Sheffield blade, and now and +then he would make reference to Mrs. Walsingham as +being a remarkably clever woman, but that was all. My +father was somewhat curious in temperament—when he +pleased he could be extremely close and reserved.”</p> + +<p>“And when he died, I suppose the partnership accounts +between himself and Carsdale were all right?” asked +Blair.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes—that was easily adjusted and settled,” answered +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[153]</span>Frances. “Of late, my father had done little +partnership business with Carsdale.”</p> + +<p>“In short, you know nothing against Carsdale—or +against the woman?” said Blair.</p> + +<p>“Nothing—at least, nothing positive,” she replied.</p> + +<p>“Then, for the present, let us turn our attention to the +question of the necklace,” said Blair. “Now, Miss Leverton, +as the genuine necklace was undoubtedly stolen while +it was in your father’s keeping, you are naturally anxious +that we should discover who stole it. I may take that for +granted?”</p> + +<p>“I am so anxious,” replied Frances, with emphasis, +“that I will do anything I can to help in the discovery.”</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said Blair. “Then first of all, let us all +three understand that we are under a pledge of secrecy +to each other. Now, Burgoyne, I told you that I had a +third notion, and, as Miss Leverton is now well aware that +we believe the real necklace is in Mrs. Walsingham’s possession, +I will tell you what that notion is. You have told +me that Shrewsbury wanted to buy your necklace, Burgoyne; +that you were at first inclined to sell; that on finding +what it was that you really had got, you refused to sell. +Now, then, you are to follow my advice. You are—at +once—to tell Shrewsbury that you have changed your +mind, and that he can have the necklace for ten thousand +pounds.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne who had fallen to contemplation of his hat’s +lining, looked up with sheer amazement in his eyes.</p> + +<p>“What on earth does that mean?” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“Never mind,” replied Blair. “You are to do what +I say. On leaving here, go straight to Levanter’s, get the +paste necklace, contrive to see Shrewsbury as soon as possible, +make him your offer, and hand the necklace to him—to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[154]</span>be shown to Mrs. Walsingham. Do you follow all +that?”</p> + +<p>“I follow it—and I’ll do it, since you tell me to do it,” +answered Burgoyne. “But I’m hanged if I know what +it means.”</p> + +<p>“Again, never mind—for the time being,” said Blair. +“You will know. Now, I may as well tell you that Mrs. +Walsingham will advise Shrewsbury to buy the necklace——”</p> + +<p>“What, ten thousand pounds for mere paste!” exclaimed +Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“She will tell him to buy,” continued Blair, imperturbably. +“And he will buy, and he will give you his cheque. +Lock the cheque up in safety—don’t even endorse it. And +when that transaction is over, see me again.”</p> + +<p>Blair rose, and Burgoyne slowly followed his +example.</p> + +<p>“Well, I really don’t know what you’re after, Blair,” +he said, with a mystified shake of the head, “and I don’t +know if Miss Leverton does—do you, Miss Leverton——?”</p> + +<p>“I have a dim notion,” admitted Frances, with a glance +at Blair.</p> + +<p>“Very well—you’re cleverer, both of you, than I,” said +Burgoyne. “I’ll follow the instructions to the very letter.”</p> + +<p>“And later on,” said Blair, turning to Frances, “we +shall—know more.”</p> + +<p>Then they went away and drove back towards Bond +Street, and for a time both men kept silence. But at last +Blair turned to Burgoyne with a queer look.</p> + +<p>“I believe we’re at the beginning of a striking episode, +in which we shall rescue young Master Richard from the +Philistines,” he said. “And I’ve a pretty good notion +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[155]</span>that we shall receive yeoman help from the young woman +we’ve just left.”</p> + +<p>“From her? Why?” demanded Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“Because I think she’s in love with the young gentleman,” +answered Blair, drily.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[156]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XIX<br> +<span class="large">THE MAN AT THE THEATRE DOOR</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham, confronted with the object which +Richard had placed before her, recognized that here was +one of those critical moments in life in which one has to +think quickly, clearly, and decisively, and, keen-witted +and hard-headed as she was, she wished heartily that she +could put it off. In the few seconds which she permitted +herself before she spoke, she saw half a dozen possibilities +and eventualities, and she was puzzled and confused by +them. Then she suddenly heard Carsdale’s swift step in +the ante-room outside, and she became calm and cool-headed +again, and knew that she would be able to save the situation. +And before Richard had time to notice any hesitation +on her part, she had gathered up some papers and +risen from her chair.</p> + +<p>“Dear boy!” she said. “I really can’t be bothered with +that just now—I’m waiting for Carsdale with these papers, +and he’s just come in and may be off again in a minute, +and I must see him. I shan’t be ready for you for a +quarter of an hour—will you wait here?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ll wait,” answered Richard, a little surprised at +her indifference to ten thousand pound’s worth of diamonds. +“I’ll wait.” He picked up the precious package +from the blotting-pad and thrust it into his pocket. +“Mustn’t leave that lying about,” he said. “It isn’t +yours, yet, Sylvie.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham made no answer. She vanished into +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[157]</span>the outer office, and Richard heard her voice and Carsdale’s. +Then he heard a door slam and knew that they +were closeted together. He had learnt that he was never +to interrupt these two when they were engaged in business, +nor to murmur if he was kept waiting until their +conferences were over—sometimes those conferences extended +to considerable and vexatious periods. And so, on +this occasion, Richard, profiting by past experience, lighted +a cigarette, and seating himself in a very easy chair—a +recent present from himself to Mrs. Walsingham—proceeded +to skim through a pile of French illustrated +journals which lay handy.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Walsingham was losing no time. Once within +the safe harbour of Carsdale’s private room, with the +sound-proof door closed upon Miss Rousby and Griffkin, +she turned to its occupant with the look which he knew to +signify important business.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Carsdale, always ready and receptive. +“Well?”</p> + +<p>“The boy’s here,” she said. “You remember what you +said about the—the duplicate? That it would be a good +thing to buy it from Burgoyne?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I remember,” he answered. “I remember. So +it would.”</p> + +<p>“Burgoyne’s offered to sell,” she said. “Ten thousand. +That proves that—that he doesn’t know. He thinks he’s +selling the real thing.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Carsdale. “Yes.”</p> + +<p>They remained looking at each other for a full +minute.</p> + +<p>“The boy’s got the thing with him,” she said suddenly.</p> + +<p>Carsdale’s eyebrows arched themselves.</p> + +<p>“That’s sure proof that he thinks it’s the genuine +article,” he said. “If he’d found out that what he held +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[158]</span>was a sham, he’d never have parted with that! Unless +he was a fool.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said, after a pause. “What’s best to be +done?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale took a turn or two about the room, biting the +corners of his moustache. Suddenly he turned and threw +out his hands.</p> + +<p>“Buy it!” he said. “You’ve got ’em both now in your +power—real thing and imitation. That makes you safe, +don’t you see, Sylvie? Tell the young ’un to buy it, and +be done with the matter. Not a soul will ever know, then. +That’s better than my scheme of exchanging them. Oh, +yes—buy!”</p> + +<p>“All right,” she said, and went out without more words. +And Richard, surprised at her speedy return, looked up +to see a different Mrs. Walsingham to the business-like one +who had gone out five minutes earlier with apparently no +thought for anything but the papers in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Now, child,” she said, when her door—which, like +Carsdale’s was sound-proof—was carefully closed, “about +this necklace. I suppose you were bad enough to tease +Burgoyne into selling them—not that you’ve bought them +yet, remember. But weren’t you?”</p> + +<p>“Honour bright, no!” replied Richard. “I met him +at lunch, and he said, ‘Oh, look here, Dick, I’ve changed +my mind, and you can have that necklace; but I won’t +take more than ten thousand from you, though the jeweller +says the stones are worth twelve.’ Then I told him +I wouldn’t buy them without consulting you, and he said, +‘Well, here, show them to Mrs. Walsingham—I dare say +she knows a diamond when she sees it—most women do,’ +and he gave me the necklace.”</p> + +<p>“He meant, ‘some women do,’” murmured Mrs. Walsingham. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[159]</span>“Well, it’s a wicked temptation, but—let me +see it.”</p> + +<p>It was with difficulty that she could restrain her laughter +when the imitation necklace emerged from its wrappings +and was solemnly handed to her by Richard.</p> + +<p>“Put it on!” he urged.</p> + +<p>“But it belonged to Maria Louisa—and didn’t she have +her head cut off?” said Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“No—that was Marie Antoinette. Put it on!—I want +to see you in it,” he said.</p> + +<p>And Mrs. Walsingham put the necklace on, and managed +to restrain her inclination to laugh, and she even +contrived to look a little—or a good deal—sentimental +when she allowed Richard to kiss her in her new bravery.</p> + +<p>“Do you really want to give them to me very, very +much?” she asked, half-plaintively, half-wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to give them to you,” declared Richard +stoutly. “That settles it, now that I’ve seen them on +you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but you can’t tell the effect in daylight,” she said. +“Wait until night.”</p> + +<p>She was unusually tender to Richard that evening, and +the young gentleman went home to Berkeley Square in a +state of high delight. Burgoyne had taken up his quarters +with him for a time on Richard’s urgent solicitations; +there was abundance of room there, he said, and Kedgin, +with the assistance of a younger valet, could look after +both. And when Richard entered, Burgoyne was enjoying +the end of a quiet hour over a pipe and a novel—on the +open page of the novel the youth dropped a once-folded +slip of pink paper.</p> + +<p>“There you are, old chap!” said Richard. “Prompt +cash on delivery, eh? It was awfully good of you, though +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[160]</span>Burgoyne, not to take more—I don’t know whether it’s a +commercially honest transaction.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne looked lazily down at the cheque.</p> + +<p>“Oh, ah, thanks,” he said. “So the lady approved the +gew-gaws.”</p> + +<p>“Looked ripping in ’em,” replied Richard.</p> + +<p>Burgoyne yawned.</p> + +<p>“Fair women do,” he said. And then added: “And +I suppose dark women do, too. In fact, all shades. Well—I’m +off to bed, young ’un—hard day to-morrow. Pleasant +dreams!”</p> + +<p>But once within his bedroom, Burgoyne’s lazy indifference +disappeared, and his face grew stern and his eyes +hard as he looked down at the cheque which Richard had +handed him so debonairly.</p> + +<p>“And so, Madam thinks that Fortune has thrown a +fine turn in her favour!” he muttered. “All right—but +we’ll save that boy from her yet. But—how?”</p> + +<p>Towards the further solution of that question he next +morning repaired to Chelsea and told Blair of the result +of his scheme.</p> + +<p>“Though I’m still absolutely in the dark as to what you +intend to do next,” he said. “It seems to me—I’ve been +thinking it out all the way down—that the lady’s got everything +and we’ve got nothing.”</p> + +<p>“We want to be quietly and unobtrusively certain as to +what the lady really has got,” retorted Blair. “How +were you going to make sure that she has your necklace +without all the machinery of Scotland Yard and the police +and all the wearisome, tedious rest of it? You can’t walk +into her flat and search her belongings.”</p> + +<p>“Well—how are we going to be certain now?” asked +Burgoyne, with something approaching scepticism.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” said Blair. “The next step is—you are going +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[161]</span>to give a little supper-party. You will take a box at some +theatre—you will bespeak a private supper-room at—wherever +you and Shrewsbury decide. For it is of the +very essence of things that your young friend and his +inamorata should be there—especially the lady. I also +shall be there. That will make four of us—a pleasant +number.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Burgoyne. “That’s all right—I can fix +that. What then?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, I think that’s all at present,” answered +Blair, nonchalantly. “Except this little detail, which is +perhaps the most important of all: You might hint to +Shrewsbury that you would like to see how Mrs. Walsingham +looks in the necklace which formerly encircled the fair +throat of Maria Louisa. Eh?”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne pulled at his moustaches, and looked thoughtfully +at his friend.</p> + +<p>“I believe I see what you’re getting at,” he said at last. +“Um—good idea!” And he went off to waylay Richard +and sound him about a theatre.</p> + +<p>“Choice of house and supper place to rest with Mrs. +Walsingham, of course,” he said gallantly, when he had +made known his desire to show hospitality to Richard and +his fiancée. “Hope she’ll like to come.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham, duly informed of Captain Burgoyne’s +polite wish to entertain her, was only too well disposed to +be gracious to the last degree. She had, as she fondly +imagined, just got rid of two affairs which had long caused +her uneasiness, and she was disposed to enjoy herself to the +full. And so she sent her prettiest thanks to Captain Burgoyne, +and having also thanked her stars that she had a new +theatre gown which she had never worn, she communicated +to Richard the important intelligence that she meant, out +of compliment to their host, to wear the famous necklace.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[162]</span>“Yes,” said Richard, who had been astute enough, in +spite of his callowness, to wait a little before giving the +hint, “yes, that would be a sort of delicate attention, +wouldn’t it? And besides, I’d like it.”</p> + +<p>So the box in which Mrs. Walsingham and her three +cavaliers were seated that night attracted some attention, +not merely because of the lady’s good looks, but also because +the diamonds at her white throat sparkled like white fire +in the glow of the electric lamps. And, of all the men and +women there who occasionally looked in her direction, none +were so much interested when they did look, as a certain +man who sat in a dark but a convenient corner of the pit, +and took good care that whatever he knew of the movements +of the people on the stage, he kept himself fully +conversant with the doings of the people in that particular +box.</p> + +<p>Ten minutes before the curtain rose on the first act of +the drama which Mrs. Walsingham had selected, this man +was walking aimlessly along the Strand. He was distinctly +of the partially-broken-down order, but his tightly-buttoned +tweed jacket was still quite presentable, his linen was clean +and fresh, his boots were polished and uncracked. His +dark, clean-shaven face bore the signs of a hard life; there +were queer seams and wrinkles in it and a sinister, watching +look in the gleaming eyes that showed themselves under +the rim of a hat which had not originated on this side of +the Atlantic. As he strolled along, he seemed to look at +nothing—in reality, he was looking at every face he met.</p> + +<p>The stroller came to the porticoed door of one of the +theatres just as an electric brougham drove up and set +down Mrs. Walsingham and her faithful Richard. The +lights fell full on the woman’s face, and the strange man +saw it for a full second as it moved past him and into the +theatre. And with a subtle instinct he drew back, quickly, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[163]</span>silently. When he looked again, Richard and his charge +had disappeared amidst the blaze of lights within.</p> + +<p>The man turned back on his steps and lounged a few +yards up the Strand. He thrust his right hand into his +trousers pocket and fingered some loose silver that lay +there; he put a finger into the pocket of his waistcoat and +rubbed the milled edge of a half-sovereign which nestled +in solitude in a corner. And, half-doubtfully, and staring +at the coloured lights which blazed over the pavement, he +went back and approached the uniformed functionary who +contemplated patrons and public from the lobby steps.</p> + +<p>“What’s it cost to get into this place, anyway?” he +asked.</p> + +<p>The functionary looked his man up and down and +gained an impression of him.</p> + +<p>“Gallery one shilling—first turning on the right,” he +answered.</p> + +<p>“Guess I prefer the ground floor,” said the questioner, +calmly.</p> + +<p>“Pit—two shillings. First turning to the left,” said +the uniform.</p> + +<p>The stranger turned without further word, and finding +a side-alley, lighted by one miserable lamp, walked up it +until he ran into a small knot of people who were struggling +to enter an almost indiscernible door, over which a feeble +gas-jet threw out the word “Pit.” Within, the house was +nearly full; at first he saw no sign of a seat. That concerned +him little; he began to wander round the semi-circle +at the back of the pit, searching the regions above +for as far as he could see them. And suddenly, seated in +a box on the dress-circle tier, with three men grouped +about her, he saw Mrs. Walsingham. Also, now that she +had removed her dainty cloak, he saw the diamonds which +glittered round her dainty neck.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[164]</span>“That’s Sylvie, sure!” he said. “Well, that was real +luck!”</p> + +<p>Then he slid into a favourable seat, near a pillar, which +was greatly of use to him when the lights went up. There +he stayed all the evening, watchful. But when the final +curtain fell, he was quickly outside, and he watched the +little party of four emerge, and he followed them across +the Strand until they passed into the courtyard of the +<i>Hotel Cecil</i>.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[165]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XX<br> +<span class="large">MR. CARSDALE IS CONFRONTED</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>The stranger drew back from the outer boundaries of the +vast hotel with a quick, comprehensive glance at its size +and splendour. He knew well enough that any one who +once passed its portals was safe from such as he, or at any +rate from such as his well-worn attire proclaimed him to +seem to be. The woman he had been watching with curiosity +and speculation during the last three hours was not +only secure within those walls, but was lost as completely +as if she had been but one amidst a whirl of leaves or a +flock of sheep; he was well aware that he had small chance +of seeing her again that night. Yet, as long as he dared, +he lingered about the entrance to the courtyard, shuffling +indeterminate feet, casting irresolute glances, and always +wondering and considering in his purposeless mind.</p> + +<p>He drew away to the edge of the pavement at last, and +stood looking up and down the glaring Strand, busy and +bright at that moment as at high noontide. For the +second time that night he thrust a hand in one pocket and +fingered the loose silver; poked a finger into another and +ran his nail along the milled edge of his half-sovereign. +He was saying to himself as he went through these mechanical +performances that these coins were all he had in +the world, and that he was not too certain, nor as a matter +of fact, too sanguine, about the very necessary matter of +picking up more.</p> + +<p>“However, I guess it’ll run to a glass of ale and a crust +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[166]</span>of bread and cheese,” he suddenly muttered, half-aloud. +“If a man knows that he’s going to starve Saturday, that’s +no reason why he should fast Friday, so long as he’s got +a shilling in his pocket.”</p> + +<p>Then he remembered, with a dim remembrance of other +days, that down Fleet Street about midnight, there are +places where a man can get a good and a satisfying supper +at very moderate cost—cheap eating-houses and restaurants +frequented by printers and proof-readers and the lesser +satellites of the Press. In that direction he moved, hands +in pockets, the keen eyes still observing every face that +came along in the crowd. And in the quieter stretches +which lie between Wellington Street and St. Clement +Danes, he suddenly came face to face with John Carsdale, +and stopped dead before him in the full glare of a neighbouring +lamp.</p> + +<p>Carsdale’s nerves were always in good condition, and he +himself was proud of the fact that he was rarely surprised, +but on this occasion he not only jumped, but he gave voice +to the first words that came to his lips.</p> + +<p>“Good God! Sydney Werrick!” he exclaimed. “It—it +isn’t you?”</p> + +<p>The stranger put out a cool and steady hand.</p> + +<p>“Sure!” he answered quietly. “How’re you, Jack?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale glanced around him as he took the man’s hand. +Just then few people were about; those who were, gave no +more than a passing glance at the meeting of two men, +one of whom, at any rate, was surprised to see the other. +His presence of mind came back to him.</p> + +<p>“Good Heavens!” he said, with a sharp laugh. “You—you +knocked me over a bit. I thought you were dead, +Sydney.”</p> + +<p>“Who told you I was dead?” asked the other.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[167]</span>“Sandy Kinahan said you were dead,” answered Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“Sandy Kinahan is a wicked liar,” said Werrick. “He +always was.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Sandy Kinahan is dead,” remarked Carsdale, +with emphasis. “There’s no doubt about that, because I +saw him lying dead in Charing Cross Hospital, there, not +so many days ago. He was killed in a motor smash.”</p> + +<p>“That saved me from killing him,” said Werrick. +“Sandy was a bad man. If he said I was dead, he was +playing some trick. But I don’t want to talk about that +now. Have you a cigar on you?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale drew out a cigar case and offered it.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say you’re so down that you can’t +buy tobacco?” he said.</p> + +<p>Werrick calmly selected a cigar, bit off the end, and +began to smoke before he replied to his question.</p> + +<p>“I’m not so down that I can’t buy tobacco, nor pay for +my supper and my bed,” he replied, “but my capital is +strictly limited, and I have to exercise the greatest economy. +I had to lay out two shillings to-night in an unforeseen +manner.”</p> + +<p>“How,” asked Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“To have a look at—Sylvie,” replied Werrick, with a +direct glance.</p> + +<p>Carsdale started.</p> + +<p>“After all, it was money well laid out,” murmured +Werrick. “Only I hadn’t reckoned to lay it out.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale was thinking as fast as he could, and he was +not quite sure what he ought to say as the result of his +thoughts. What he did say eventually was tame and +colourless enough.</p> + +<p>“So you’ve seen her?” he said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[168]</span>“I have. I caught sight of her going into that theatre +behind there—the Odalium, isn’t it?—with a young fellow +that seemed to be mighty anxious she shouldn’t fall down +and break herself,” said Werrick. “Wherefore I spent +two good shillings in order to sit in the pit and feast my +eyes on her beauty. Also, I feasted on a diamond necklace +which she was wearing, and which I reckoned up on +pretty carefully. I should say that diamond necklace is +worth every penny of eleven thousand pounds. That’s +good—Sylvie with all that money on her, and me with +about seventeen shillings and sixpence in the world!”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“Ill, you mean,” said Werrick. “Very ill—for me.”</p> + +<p>“Where is Sylvie, now?” asked Carsdale. “I’m certain +you know.”</p> + +<p>“Well, yes, I do, unless she’s cleared out. She’s in that +big hotel, the <i>Cecil</i>, with the young ’un and two swells who +look like military men, only one of ’em’s lost a wing,” +answered Werrick. “I guess Sylvie’s busy with the champagne +and the lobster salad, and to-morrow she’ll have a +liver.”</p> + +<p>“How did you come over?” asked Carsdale, who had +been watching his man narrowly.</p> + +<p>“Cattle-boat,” replied Werrick, laconically.</p> + +<p>“And where are you going now?” said Carsdale. +“Anywhere?”</p> + +<p>Werrick flipped away the ash from the end of his cigar.</p> + +<p>“Until I met you,” he said, “I was going down Fleet +Street to find a cheap and satisfying supper place. Now +that I have met you, it depends on you where I’m going.”</p> + +<p>“Why on me?” asked Carsdale</p> + +<p>“Merely because you’ll tell me where Sylvie is to be +found,” answered Werrick, quietly.</p> + +<p>Carsdale laughed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[169]</span>“And suppose I don’t?” he suggested.</p> + +<p>“In that case,” replied Werrick, “in that case I shall +be sorry—for somebody.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale laughed again.</p> + +<p>“You’d better come home with me and have some +supper,” he said. “I’m tired of standing here.”</p> + +<p>“So’m I,” said Werrick. “I thought you liked it. Is +your place far?”</p> + +<p>“Not in one of these things,” answered Carsdale, and +he hailed a passing taxi-cab, and, motioning Werrick to +enter, bade the driver go to Jermyn Street. “And when +did you strike town, Sydney?” he asked, in friendly +fashion. “Not long since, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Early hours of this afternoon,” answered Werrick. +“Two o’clock, maybe.”</p> + +<p>“Any object?” continued Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“Only to find Sylvie—and you,” answered Werrick. +“I reckoned I could do a good deal in that way in twenty-four +hours. And so, Sandy Kinahan set forth that I was +departed, did he?”</p> + +<p>“Sandy Kinahan told Sylvie that you were dead,” +answered Carsdale. “Moreover, he said how you died. +He said that you were shot in some scrap or other in some +mining town—Nevada, or Colorado, or somewhere. Moreover, +Sandy Kinahan said that if Sylvie would cable to the +sheriff she would get confirmatory news, and she did so, +and she got the news, sure enough.”</p> + +<p>“Then Sandy Kinahan and the sheriff had put up some +game,” said Werrick, slowly. “I was in that place, and +Sandy Kinahan was there, too, only he cleared out before +I did. And I would like to know what their game was. +Also, I would like to know what Sylvie’s game is with the +young fellow and the diamonds. But that, of course, you +are going to tell me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[170]</span>And Carsdale knew that this last assertion was a true +one. He had a man by his side with whom it was not safe +to trifle, and he rapidly sized the situation up and formed +his plans.</p> + +<p>“I always take care to be provided in case I come home +hungry, and want anything in a hurry,” he said, when +he and his unexpected guest had safely reached the Jermyn +Street chambers. “Bachelor as I am, I keep larder, and +at this moment I have a fine cold pigeon-pie in it, and a +cut of ripe old Stilton cheese, which couldn’t be beaten +from here to the Mansion House. As to the drinkables, +you can open that cupboard, cast your eye over its contents, +and select whatever strikes your fancy.”</p> + +<p>And in his usual bustling way, Carsdale spread his own +table, laid out the supper, and attended to his guest as if +he were delighted to see him. The truth was, that he had +been quick to recognize the inevitable, and was rapidly +making up his mind to make the best of it. And when +the two men had eaten, he produced whiskey and cigars, +and settled down to business.</p> + +<p>“Now, Sydney,” he said, “let’s be frank and business-like. +You saw the young fellow with Sylvie to-night?”</p> + +<p>“I saw him,” answered Werrick.</p> + +<p>“He wants to marry her,” said Carsdale. “And he’s +worth—well, a tidy lot.”</p> + +<p>“How much?” asked Werrick.</p> + +<p>Carsdale knew it was useless to evade or prevaricate.</p> + +<p>“A good quarter of a million, anyhow,” he replied.</p> + +<p>Werrick examined his cigar with the air of a connoisseur.</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s a great pity for Sylvie,” he said. “I’m +sorry for her, but I don’t just see how it’s going to be done. +Because, as I say, Sandy Kinahan was a wicked liar.”</p> + +<p>“She didn’t accept the boy until she’d seen Sandy +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[171]</span>Kinahan,” remarked Carsdale. “Of course, she believed +the cable from the sheriff.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally. But he’s a wicked liar, too,” said Werrick. +He smoked meditatively for a time, staring hard at the +ceiling. “It’s a delicate situation,” he said, at last. “I’m +awfully sorry for Sylvie, but I don’t propose to go and +make a hole in the Thames or in my own head simply because +she wants to marry the boy’s money-bags.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what’s to be done,” said Carsdale. +He began to drum on the table before him. “It’s awkward—awkward!” +he murmured.</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Werrick, speaking with slow deliberation, +“I never yet heard of any situation that couldn’t be +turned to somebody’s advantage. I reckon that if this +youngster has a quarter of a million there must be something +very wrong indeed with you and me and Sylvie if +we don’t profit by the fact.”</p> + +<p>“I knew you’d want to share,” commented Carsdale, +with a chuckle.</p> + +<p>“Certainly, I want to share,” said Werrick, with quiet +determination. “I reckon, all things considered, that +I have a moral right to share.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale’s eyes twinkled.</p> + +<p>“And supposing you’re taken into partnership, what +capital do you propose to invest?” he asked with a grin.</p> + +<p>Werrick eyed him sideways over the point of his cigar.</p> + +<p>“I guess you know what I can invest,” he said. “It’s +something that neither you or Sylvie could ever invest, +with all your cleverness.”</p> + +<p>“All right, my son, all right,” said Carsdale. “Well, +of course, Sylvie must be consulted.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course, of course!” agreed Werrick. “Didn’t +you always find me a reasonable man?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[172]</span>“I always found you able to keep quiet in tongue and +body till the time for action came,” said Carsdale. “Now +where are you going to-night? Anywhere? Then why +not stop here? There’s a spare room—a more comfortable +one than you’d get in any cheap hotel.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll accept that offer,” said Werrick.</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said Carsdale, rising. He glanced at +his watch. “Now, then, I’ve got to go out for an hour +or two, midnight though it is. In there you’ll find everything +you want. Make yourself at home, Sydney.”</p> + +<p>Werrick merely nodded, and Carsdale, picking up his +hat and walking-cane, went off without further ceremony. +Once in the street, he paused for a second and swore softly +to himself; then, knowing he had plenty of time, he set +out at a steady pace and walked all the way to Bloomsbury, +and to the flats in which Mrs. Walsingham resided. From +a convenient vantage point there he watched until he saw +Richard Shrewsbury’s motor-car arrive, and he made +sure that Mrs. Walsingham entered the mansions alone. +He let ten minutes elapse, and then he entered. The +night-porter was used to seeing him at all hours, and merely +gave him a nod which signified that Mrs. Walsingham +had come in. And Carsdale went up quietly and with his +mental activities braced by his walk through the cool +night.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham opened the door to him herself. She +was still in all her theatre finery, save for the diamond +necklace. Carsdale laid his finger to his lip, and softly +followed her into the dining-room. And it was she who +first spoke.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” she whispered. “There’s something—I +know there is! What is it?”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[173]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXI<br> +<span class="large">A WEAVING OF WEBS</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Carsdale looked round him with the stealthy care of a +man who fears that even the most unlikely things may +shelter an eavesdropper.</p> + +<p>“Sophie?” he whispered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Fast asleep,” she said. “It’s all right—there’s no +danger. What is it, Jack! I know something’s happened. +Not so much because you’re here, but because of—your +look. Tell me!”</p> + +<p>Carsdale took off his hat and, putting it down, wiped +his forehead. Now that he was here, away from his own +place, matters looked worse.</p> + +<p>“It’s—bad,” he went on, in the same low tones. “You +remember what Sandy Kinahan told you?”</p> + +<p>He was watching her keenly, and he saw her suddenly +put her hands behind her and grasp the edge of the table +against which she had backed when they entered the room, +and he knew from the whitening of the knuckles that she +was gripping it hard. And then she whitened to the lips.</p> + +<p>“Take it easy, now,” said Carsdale. “You’ve got to +know. What Sandy Kinahan told you wasn’t—true.”</p> + +<p>She tried to swallow once or twice, and then to speak; +and Carsdale went over to the sideboard, quickly mixed +her a drink, and forced it on her.</p> + +<p>“You mean—he isn’t dead!” she whispered.</p> + +<p>“He’s not dead,” answered Carsdale, with a cynical +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[174]</span>laugh. “It was all a plant of Kinahan’s and somebody +else’s, for some reason. No, Master Sydney is very much +alive!”</p> + +<p>She stood staring at him with dilated eyes and parting +lips.</p> + +<p>“He’s—here?” she said.</p> + +<p>“He’s here,” replied Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“In—London?” she whispered.</p> + +<p>Carsdale made a grimace.</p> + +<p>“To tell you the truth, my girl,” he said, “he’s at my +rooms, and he’s either enjoying himself with my whiskey—though +he’s too fond of keeping his wits to touch much +of that—or he’s safe between the sheets. That’s where +Syd Werrick is!”</p> + +<p>She threw up her head with a gesture of despair and +dropped into the nearest seat.</p> + +<p>“My God!” she muttered. “What’s to be done?”</p> + +<p>“Heaven knows!” answered Carsdale. “I don’t.”</p> + +<p>“Where on earth did you find him?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Find him! We met—met in the Strand. He hailed +me, cool as a cucumber,” said Carsdale. “And he’d just +come from seeing—you.”</p> + +<p>“Seeing—me!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“He happened to catch sight of you and the boy going +into the Odalium, and so he bought a pit ticket and feasted +his eyes on you and the necklace,” answered Carsdale +grimly. “And, naturally, when you left the theatre he +watched you over the road to the <i>Cecil</i>. You know Master +Syd’s tricks.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham had taken a filmy handkerchief from +her bosom and was twisting and untwisting it in her jewelled +fingers—it was suddenly torn violently in two as if +by mere will-power. And Carsdale laughed.</p> + +<p>“It’s no good, Sylvie,” he said. “The thing is, to keep +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[175]</span>calm and cool. Sydney’s a rock that you’re up against—I, +too, perhaps. According to the law of this blessed +land, he’s your husband, and he’s done nothing that you +can rid yourself of him for. That’s flat. Now that he’s +back, the best thing is to make the best of a bad job, and +see what we can do. One thing’s certain—if your lord +and master is to be kept quiet, we shall have to take him +into partnership.”</p> + +<p>“Partnership!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Carsdale sat down and tapped her knee.</p> + +<p>“You must see,” he said, quietly, “you must see that +the serious affair with the boy is off—off, as far away as +Cape Horn! You can’t commit bigamy. All that we can +do now is to make as much as we can out of him. And—unpleasant +as it is—Sydney Werrick will have to come +in at it.”</p> + +<p>She sat staring at him in silence for a full minute; then, +with a low, harsh laugh she rose, and, going over to the +sideboard, mixed herself another drink.</p> + +<p>“Play light,” said Carsdale, warningly.</p> + +<p>“Give me a cigarette,” she said, coming back to her +seat. “Thank you. Now, then—what do you propose?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale again looked cautiously and suspiciously +around the room.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure that girl is really asleep—and safe?” he +whispered.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham made an impatient gesture.</p> + +<p>“Certain!” she answered. “Never mind her. Get to +business.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale fingered his moustache for a minute or two, +staring fixedly at an exact point of the ceiling.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said at last, “well, if we’ve got down to +plain and brutal fact, I think we both know what we intended +about the young ’un when that letter to Barclay +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[176]</span>Leverton fell into our hands. Things ran well for us, +Sylvie—especially when Sandy Kinahan brought that +news which wasn’t true. As they ran, you were going to +get your share through marriage—and an excellent way it +would have been, and would have saved an awful lot of +trouble. But now that Sydney’s turned up, that’s all off—it’s +impossible, it’s quite——”</p> + +<p>“Couldn’t Sydney be bought out and packed off for +good?” she suggested.</p> + +<p>Carsdale shook his head with unmistakable dissent.</p> + +<p>“That’s still more impossible,” he replied. “You’d +never know when he’d come back. No—it’s off—off! +And so—well, we must reap our harvest in another way. +Fortunately, we’ve so engineered things that it won’t be +very difficult to reap. And, if you want to know the truth, +I shan’t be sorry to make a new development. Things are +not good.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him quickly.</p> + +<p>“You mean—you want to get out?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Something very like it,” he admitted. “The young +’un’s coming was a godsend, and, if we only play our cards +properly, we can start in fresh fields and new pastures +to big advantage. But don’t forget this—Syd Werrick +will have to be in at it.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham made no immediate reply. She sat +smoking cigarette after cigarette, tapping her slippered +feet impatiently on the hearthrug, her eyes sombre with +thought.</p> + +<p>“What’s gone wrong with you?” she suddenly demanded.</p> + +<p>Carsdale shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“It’s not that anything has gone absolutely wrong,” he +said. “It’s simply that nothing seems doing or coming +along. And if you want to know, it’s my belief that that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[177]</span>young vixen, Frances Leverton, has her knife into me, and +is somehow, but I don’t know how, doing me harm. I +couldn’t put my finger on any precise spot—but I’ve an +uneasy feeling that she’s up to no good.”</p> + +<p>“Could she do anything?” asked Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Carsdale, stirring a little uneasily in +his seat, “there is one affair, if only she was cute enough +to understand the papers which she’d doubtless find in her +father’s effects. It may be that.”</p> + +<p>“She’s cute enough for anything,” remarked Mrs. Walsingham. +She reflected a little, and then turned to him +with an odd look. “I—I’ve been made rather uneasy to-night,” +she said.</p> + +<p>“Where? At the theatre?” he asked. “The supper-party?”</p> + +<p>“It may be all nothing, but I was uneasy,” she answered. +“You know I put on the—the real necklace. I +saw no danger in that, now that I’ve got both. Well, Burgoyne +had a friend there—another Army man, a Captain +Blair, but retired, because he’s lost an arm.”</p> + +<p>“Blair—ex-Army man—lost an arm?” said Carsdale, +musingly. “Seems to me I know something about that +man. Describe him.”</p> + +<p>“A tall, well-built, handsome man, with very remarkable +eyes, who seems as if he were looking clean through you +and turning you inside out,” answered Mrs. Walsingham. +“He made me uneasy and uncomfortable.”</p> + +<p>“I know him,” said Carsdale. “He’s a writing fellow. +Well?”</p> + +<p>“Well, when we went to supper at the <i>Cecil</i>,” continued +Mrs. Walsingham, “the talk somehow got on to the necklace, +and, of course, the boy was full of the Maria Louisa +legend, or whatever it is. Then this Captain Blair asked +to be allowed to look at the necklace because of its historic +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[178]</span>interest, and I had to take it off—we were in a private +room, you know—and let him examine it. And that +was where I got uneasy.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” asked Carsdale. “It was probably only +curiosity.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No!” she said. “I don’t think so. He examined +that necklace in a way that showed me he was an expert +in diamonds. He was a little bit too careful about it. Now—why?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale manifested signs of impatience.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t see anything in that, Sylvie!” he said. +“You’ve got fidgety and suspicious because of all the recent +circumstances. I don’t suppose the man had any +ulterior design—what ulterior design could he have? +Now I come to think of it, this Captain Blair, after he +left the Army, took to writing, and I remember—I was +trying to recall it while you talked—he did write a series +of articles or something about the precious stones, in one +of those collectors’ journals. He was probably examining +the thing as a connoisseur—that’s all. By the by, where +is the necklace?”</p> + +<p>“Here, of course—locked up in my safe,” she answered. +“I shall bring it to the office to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“Better take it to your bank,” said Carsdale. “At +any rate, don’t leave it here. However much you may +trust that maid of yours, I shouldn’t trust her to the extent +of diamonds worth twelve thousand. Now then—as +to what we are going to do. There are two persons to +think of first—Sydney and this boy Shrewsbury.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said with a sigh. “What of them?”</p> + +<p>“Let’s get a clear notion,” said Carsdale. “Now, first +as to Syd Werrick. There will be no trouble with him, +Sylvie, so long as he’s kept in clover. I’ll take care that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[179]</span>he gives you no trouble. He can put up with me, down +there in Jermyn Street. He shall have as much money as +he likes—in reason—and he shall enjoy himself. He’ll be +made to understand that he’s to behave himself in every +way. I expect there’ll have to be a talk between the three +of us——”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to see him—I won’t see him!” broke in +Mrs. Walsingham. “At any rate, not yet.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not yet,” said Carsdale, soothingly. “Leave +it to me—I can manage him. It’s very fortunate that +there’s nothing against the young gentleman on this side, +so he’ll be able to go around town and amuse himself, and +do what he likes with his liberty——”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and then he’ll some day get too much to drink, +and then he’ll turn ugly, and then—oh, then, I know!” +she said.</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t look as if he’d been at that game lately, +anyway,” said Carsdale, thoughtfully. “He looks as hard +and fit as a man of his age should be, and his eyes are as +clear as a child’s, and——”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham suddenly laid a hand on her companion’s +arm.</p> + +<p>“Jack!” she said in a tense whisper. “Don’t you ever +forget this: Syd will never forgive you and me because +we cleared out and left him to face the music in New +York. He may play that he’s forgotten and forgiven, but +he hasn’t and he won’t. Oh, don’t I know him! You’re +too easy-going; too optimistic.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I think he’ll be all right if he’s decently treated +now,” said Carsdale, hopefully. “I say—leave him to +me. Now, as to the other.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham shook her head; it was evident that +she had small belief in Carsdale’s anticipations.</p> + +<p>“Well—go on,” she said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[180]</span>“As to the young ’un,” continued Carsdale, in a lower +voice, and again looking about him as if he mistrusted the +very walls, “you’ll see how beautifully my policy will +work out. He’s a complete belief in me, and he’ll trust +me to the last extent. The thing to do is to gradually +get his securities into my absolute control, and then——”</p> + +<p>“Then you’ll do what you like with them!” she said, +with an ironic laugh. “And what am I to do in the meantime?”</p> + +<p>“Keep the game going,” answered Carsdale. “Keep +the game going. I’ll be answerable for your husband +while it’s being played.”</p> + +<p>“I wish my husband had gone to the bottom of the Atlantic!” +she said, clenching her hand. “I wish what +Sandy Kinahan said had been true!”</p> + +<p>Carsdale laughed, rose, and picked up his hat.</p> + +<p>“So do I!” he said. “Heartily—heartily! But—it +isn’t true. The young gentleman is here. That, my dear +Sylvie, is a fact. Fact, remember!”</p> + +<p>Then he left her, and finding a belated taxi-cab near the +mansions, chartered it and drove home to Jermyn Street, +thinking hard all the way. And his chief thought was +that, if he hadn’t a sentimental feeling for Sylvie he would +quickly feather his own nest and clear clean out.</p> + +<p>Carsdale’s sitting-room was tenantless. He picked up +the whiskey decanter, and gave it a quick look. He had +eyed it before he left, and he knew that Werrick had +drunk no more after his departure. And he shook his +head solemnly and meaningly.</p> + +<p>“That argues mischief!” he said to himself. “He means +to keep a cool head. And when Sydney Werrick’s head is +cool, the devil himself wouldn’t be a match for him!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[181]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXII<br> +<span class="large">A COUNCIL OF WAR</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Captain Burgoyne went away from his little supper-party +with feelings which yielded him anything but pleasure. +Blair’s third notion, as he called it, had worked out—just +as Blair had believed it would work out. There +was now no doubt whatever as to the actual thief of the +diamond necklace—Mrs. Walsingham had fallen into the +trap so cunningly set for her as easily and completely as +her worst enemy could have wished. She had become +possessed of the paste imitation; she had worn the real +article. And this was the woman to whom young Dick, +generous, impetuous, unsuspecting, woefully ignorant of +the world and its wickedness, had plighted himself in the +most serious obligation which life knows! It was dreadful, +it was unspeakable, it was—Burgoyne could find no words +in which to express what he felt.</p> + +<p>“But, by God, it must not and shall not be!” he said, +half-aloud, as he tramped steadily up St. James’s Street, +having walked homewards to cool his head and to think. +“The youngster shall be got out of the hands of that +woman and that man if I spend my last penny in effecting +his release. But—how’s it to be done?”</p> + +<p>That question was still agitating his mind when he, +Blair, and Frances Leverton met next morning at the flat +in Acacia Mansions. He listened in silence while Blair +gave Frances a crisp and clear account of the happenings +of the previous evening—how that Mrs. Walsingham had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[182]</span>appeared at the theatre in a necklace; how that at supper +she had been induced to take it off and to let him examine +it as a historical curiosity; how that he, an expert in precious +stones, had known at once that it was formed of +genuine and valuable diamonds. The case, said Blair, was +plain as plain could be: the real necklace had been in her +possession when Richard Shrewsbury bought the imitation +one, and, having both at her command, she had appeared +in the real one, and had, all unconsciously, proclaimed her +guilt to Burgoyne and himself.</p> + +<p>“And the whole question now, Ralph,” concluded +Blair, turning from Frances to Burgoyne, “is—what are +you going to do?”</p> + +<p>“Save the boy!” snapped out Burgoyne. “Save the +boy!”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” agreed Blair. “That’s the end in view, but +what about the means? You can prosecute this woman if +you choose—it will make a fine and an interesting story to +tell in a criminal court. The ins and outs may seem a +little involved and intricate, but that will add to the fascination, +and give the newspapers some excellent copy. +But—your young friend is so impulsive, and so quixotic, +and so generous of heart, and the woman evidently has so +much power over him that the probability is that at the +first note of danger she would turn to him, claim his protection, +and force him into an immediate marriage. And +that is what you want to prevent at all costs.”</p> + +<p>“Of course!” said Burgoyne. “All that I want is to +save the boy. Hang the necklace, and hang prosecuting +the woman!—though I think she ought to be put out of +the way of doing these things. What I want is to get that +youngster out of the clutches of those two. Isn’t—isn’t +there some way by which we could do it quietly, but very +thoroughly?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[183]</span>Blair looked at Frances, who had been listening to everything +with quiet but concentrated attention.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said. “We’ve certainly got a hold on the +woman. We’re in this position—we can go to her and +say, ‘Now, my good lady, we know and we can prove who +stole Captain Burgoyne’s necklace from the late Mr. +Leverton’s safe—you did! Unless you agree to drop Mr. +Richard Shrewsbury, we shall call in the police.’ That +much we can do as regards her—what attention she would +give to our threat I don’t know. I think she might show +fight, or, at any rate, want to bargain. But as regards +Carsdale, which case is, in certain respects, the more serious +of the two, seeing that he has full command of the +youngster’s money, the matter is different. We—that is, +you and I, Burgoyne—know nothing against Carsdale to +give us any hold on him. Now, if Miss Leverton, as I +shrewdly suspect, has anything against him, has any hold +on him——”</p> + +<p>He paused and looked narrowly at Frances. And +Frances turned away and looked out of the window by her +desk.</p> + +<p>“If it is really necessary,” she said after a pause of silence, +“if it is really necessary to do something to—to save +Mr. Shrewsbury, I have, or I could have, a hold on Carsdale. +I did not mention it to you before, but I have been +slowly going through my father’s papers, and at last, with +some difficulty, I have found out—something. Something +that is—well, quite sufficient. He robbed my father.”</p> + +<p>Blair uttered a sharp exclamation.</p> + +<p>“Ah! You have proof of that?” he said.</p> + +<p>“So much proof,” replied Frances, “that Mr. Winch +has advised me to prosecute him.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Winch knows all the facts?” asked Blair.</p> + +<p>“He has known them since yesterday afternoon,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[184]</span>Frances answered. “I was not certain of them myself +until yesterday morning—as soon as I was certain, I consulted +Mr. Winch, who, it seems, had had some notion of +the truth.”</p> + +<p>“And you have decided upon—what?” said Blair.</p> + +<p>Frances shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Upon—nothing,” she replied. “Nothing—until I had +seen you. And—if I am to be frank with you—my own +personal feeling is that if I alone were concerned, I should +do nothing. If you really want to know, I do not wish to +have my father’s name brought up. He is dead, and it +would do no good to prosecute Carsdale, and—if it were +left to me—I should let the whole matter drop. But——”</p> + +<p>She paused, and the two men, watching her narrowly, +saw that she felt more than an ordinary diffidence in saying +what was in her mind.</p> + +<p>“I think we know what you mean, Miss Leverton,” said +Blair. “Isn’t it that if your hold over Carsdale could be +potential in saving Mr. Shrewsbury from him you wouldn’t +feel justified in refusing to let him know positively that +you have that hold?”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne suddenly started into voice and activity.</p> + +<p>“Yes, but look here, Blair, Miss Leverton can’t go and +say to this fellow, ‘Give up interfering with young +Shrewsbury, or I’ll hand you over to the police!’” he said. +“Of course she can’t. The thing’s impossible. He’d +say at once, ‘What concern is it of yours?’ No, no—that +won’t do.”</p> + +<p>Frances thanked him with a look for putting her own +thoughts into words. But Blair smiled quietly.</p> + +<p>“My dear Ralph,” he said. “I hadn’t the slightest +intention of asking Miss Leverton to go to Carsdale in +order to deliver any such ultimatum. You have got to remember +that, up to now, so far as we know, so far as we +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[185]</span>believe, Carsdale’s relations with your young friend are +strictly sound and honourable, though we have a firm conviction +that they will not continue to be so. No—I was not +thinking of asking Miss Leverton to do any such thing. +But there is a person who might put matters to Carsdale +plainly and unmistakably.”</p> + +<p>“Who’s that?” asked Burgoyne, uneasily. “You don’t +mean myself?”</p> + +<p>“Not I!” laughed Blair. “I mean Mr. Winch. Mr. +Winch is a solicitor, Mr. Winch is a co-executor under the +will of the late Mr. Barclay Leverton. Mr. Winch, in going +into the affairs of the late Mr. Leverton, has discovered +that Mr. Leverton was defrauded by Carsdale—am I justified +in saying that?” he added, turning to Frances.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Winch called it fraud,” she answered. “Yes—fraud.”</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said Blair. “Then Mr. Winch is in a +position—the strongest possible position—to go to Carsdale +and say, ‘I find, on the clearest proof, that you have +defrauded the estate which I am administering. You are +liable to serious punishment. I give you the alternative. +You must make restitution; you must admit your guilt in +writing; you must cease to act for young Mr. Shrewsbury, +whose business you acquired by wrongly appropriating a +letter which was intended for my late client and should +have been given to his legal representatives. Unless you do +this I shall hand you over to the police!’ Nothing could +be clearer. The immediate point is—will Mr. Winch consent +to do this?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Frances. “Mr. Winch will consent, if I +put the whole matter before him. And he will do it +thoroughly, too.”</p> + +<p>“Good!” said Blair. “Then that disposes of Carsdale. +Now for the woman, Mrs. Walsingham.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[186]</span>Burgoyne groaned and looked down at his toes, and +Blair smiled at Frances. “Mrs. Walsingham,” he repeated. +“Don’t be afraid, Ralph. I was about to remark +that I will see Mrs. Walsingham myself.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne sat erect, staring his surprise.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean it!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“I mean it, quite seriously,” answered Blair. “I will +see her, and talk to her, and when I have finished I think +she may have something to say to me which may be interesting. +But there is one thing that must be done—must!—before +Mr. Winch sees Carsdale and I see Mrs. Walsingham.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne and Frances looked their interrogation.</p> + +<p>“Shrewsbury must be got out of the way for a few +days,” continued Blair. “That’s absolutely necessary. +And you, Burgoyne, must manage it.”</p> + +<p>“And perhaps you’ll tell me how to manage it!” said +Burgoyne, a little irritably. “From what I’ve seen of +affairs, it’s very evident to me that the youngster runs to +either Carsdale or this woman on even the smallest matters. +Besides, I haven’t even the smallest excuse for taking him +away for a few days.”</p> + +<p>“Surely you can make one,” said Blair, laughing. +“Come—isn’t there some part of the country in which you +were deeply interested as a boy and would like to see again +and don’t want to visit all by yourself? Your old home—your +old school—anything, anywhere will do.”</p> + +<p>“And that shows how little you appreciate the state of +things,” said Burgoyne with a grim smile. “If I so much +as mentioned the matter, I know what he’d do. He’d +immediately be for making a motor trip of it, and for +taking the woman along. He’d be sure to say, ‘Bring your +friend, Captain Blair, and we’ll have a grand old time!’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[187]</span>No, that won’t do, Gavin—you’ll have to think of something +better than that.”</p> + +<p>“Get him to run over to Paris with you for a few days,” +suggested Blair. “He’s never been there, and it might +appeal to him.”</p> + +<p>“And I say to that,” answered Burgoyne, “that just the +same objection applies. He would be for making a party. +If I were dead, or dying, or lying in a ditch with a broken +limb, he’d come anywhere like a shot, but——”</p> + +<p>“Then you must go somewhere and have a fictitious +accident,” said Blair. “That boy must be away at the +time of these interviews. You must go across to France, +invent something, and get him over. You must!”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne knitted his brows and frowned, and for a +moment appeared to be thinking hard. At last he looked +up and slowly gazed from one to the other of the two faces +before him.</p> + +<p>“I won’t!” he said stoutly. “But I’ll tell you what +I will do. I’ll go over to Paris whenever you like, and I’ll +send the boy a message that will bring him there—alone—without +inventing any fibs. And—if you two think it +wise—I’ll then take upon myself to tell him the plain truth +about this woman. The proof you can give him when we +come back. I’ll do that, and, by Gad, he’ll believe me! +Now, what do you say to that? That seems to me the +straight thing to do.”</p> + +<p>Frances nodded her complete assent with a readiness +which did not escape Blair’s watchful eyes. And Burgoyne +suddenly spoke again.</p> + +<p>“It won’t be an easy job, Gavin,” he said. “I’d rather +do—well, most of the things I have done, than do it. But +it seems to me the straight thing to do. I hate to have to +do it—he’ll take it hard, sir!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[188]</span>“I don’t know,” remarked Blair, quietly. “I don’t +know.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne stared at him.</p> + +<p>“You don’t know?” he said. “Why, he’s infatuated——”</p> + +<p>“Better say bewitched, and have done with it,” said +Blair. “My own impression is that, in his quieter moments, +the lad’s regretting what he’s done, and——”</p> + +<p>Frances rose and began to shuffle her papers, bending +her head over them.</p> + +<p>“Is there anything else that you gentleman require me +for?” she asked. “Remember—I’m a business woman, +and I’ve all my morning’s work before me.”</p> + +<p>Blair was quick to appreciate a situation; he saw that +the girl had no desire to have Richard Shrewsbury’s +feelings for Mrs. Walsingham discussed before her. And +so, in a few words, the interview was brought to an end +and an understanding arrived at. Burgoyne was to go +across to Paris and get Richard over; on the day of his +arrival there Mr. Winch was to see Carsdale and Blair was +to call on Mrs. Walsingham; the result of those visits +was to be wired to Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“And then we shall see—what we shall see,” said Blair, +as he and Burgoyne parted, a little later. “But—we +shall save him.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne turned into Richard’s rooms feeling sick at +heart about the whole sordid business. And there Kedgin +presented him with a sealed note, which, on opening, he +found to be from Mr. Levanter, of Bond Street. And +Mr. Levanter presented his compliments, and if Captain +Burgoyne would do him the honour to call, Mr. Levanter +had news to communicate which he believed would interest +Captain Burgoyne greatly.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[189]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIII<br> +<span class="large">THE EVE OF THE BATTLE</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Levanter, receiving Captain Burgoyne in his elegant +front shop in full view of assistants and customers, was +a bland, suave, and polite gentleman; Mr. Levanter, closeted +with Captain Burgoyne in his private sanctum at the +rear of the establishment, became a man of deep mystery. +Burgoyne saw at once that the jeweller was burning to +communicate some news which he believed to be of importance, +and he waited calmly to hear it.</p> + +<p>“Take a seat, Captain,” said Mr. Levanter, cordially +polite. “I—the fact is, I have something to tell you which +I think you will like to hear. I would have stepped round +to you myself, but I was not sure that I should find you +alone, you understand, and so——”</p> + +<p>“Quite right,” said Burgoyne. “What is it, Mr. Levanter?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter hummed and hawed two or three times, +and went through the pantomimic gestures which are invariably +indulged in by persons who desire to make communications +that in their opinion are tinged with mystery. +He smiled on his visitor.</p> + +<p>“The fact is, Captain,” he said, “I was at the Odalium +Theatre last night.”</p> + +<p>“So was I,” said Burgoyne bluntly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mr. Levanter. “Yes. In fact I saw you. +Hem!—I also noticed your friends, Captain.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Burgoyne.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[190]</span>“Yes,” continued Mr. Levanter. “Yes. Hem!—this +is a difficult and delicate matter, Captain. Er—may I +ask if the—the lady in whose company you were is a very +personal friend of yours?”</p> + +<p>“You may,” answered Burgoyne. “You may ask me +anything you like. She is not.”</p> + +<p>“A—mere acquaintance, shall we say?” suggested Mr. +Levanter.</p> + +<p>“About that,” said Burgoyne. “Why?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter rubbed his hands together.</p> + +<p>“That makes matters much more simple,” he said. “I +may say anything I like?”</p> + +<p>“Anything,” replied Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Mr. Levanter. “Er—I observed that +the lady was wearing the necklace, Captain.”</p> + +<p>“You observed that the lady was wearing a necklace,” +said Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter started.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said. “Just so. <i>A</i> necklace? Yes. Now, +Captain, was that the necklace—the imitation one which +you brought here, you know—or was it the—real one?”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne gave Mr. Levanter an inquiring look. Mr. +Levanter smiled again, and again rubbed his hands.</p> + +<p>“You’ve got something to tell me about—that?” said +Burgoyne. “I see. Well, now, did you observe a gentleman +who was with me in that box last night?—a gentleman +who has lost his left arm?”</p> + +<p>“I did, sir, and I know him,” answered Mr. Levanter. +“Captain Blair. He is an occasional customer of mine.”</p> + +<p>“Very good,” said Burgoyne. “Now, Mr. Levanter, I +have given you a great deal of my confidence and I am going +to give you more. The real reason why my friend +Captain Blair and I were at the Odalium last night with +young Mr. Shrewsbury and that lady was that——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[191]</span>Mr. Levanter suddenly put up a hand.</p> + +<p>“Pardon a moment, Captain,” he said. “I ought to +say that I know the lady, Mrs. Walsingham. She has been +here often with Mr. Shrewsbury.”</p> + +<p>“Then that simplifies matters,” said Burgoyne. “I +was going to say that Captain Blair and I were where we +were because of the necklace. The fact is that Captain +Blair is helping me to investigate matters. And if you +have anything to tell me I should like Captain Blair to +hear it. He is at his club in Dover Street at this moment, +and if you have no objection I’ll fetch him.”</p> + +<p>“No objection whatever, Captain,” said Mr. Levanter. +“Not at all, sir. I shall be at your disposal as soon as you +return.”</p> + +<p>The friendliness of the jeweller’s intentions was evidenced +by the fact that when Burgoyne and Blair came +back together he had set out on the table in his private +room a decanter of sherry and a box of cigars, and that he +pressed hospitality upon his visitors in a fashion which +could not well be refused.</p> + +<p>“Allow me to offer you a glass of wine, gentlemen,” +said Mr. Levanter. “I believe you would find it hard to +improve upon this sherry in the town. And these cigars +are as good, but if you prefer cigarettes, gentlemen, here is +an excellent brand. When one has a little confidential +talk in view, gentlemen, it is as well to be comfortable.”</p> + +<p>“And what is it that you have to talk to us about, Mr. +Levanter?” asked Blair when they had settled down behind +a door which looked to be as safe and sound-proof +as the door of a Bank of England vault. “Captain Burgoyne +has told me what you have already told him.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter looked approvingly at the smoke which +curled from his cigar.</p> + +<p>“Well, gentlemen,” he said, “it’s a rather curious +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[192]</span>story, and in my opinion it throws a sidelight on the question +of the diamond necklace which belongs to Captain +Burgoyne, about which, Captain Blair, I understand you +know all that I do?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Blair. “I do.”</p> + +<p>“Well, gentlemen,” continued Mr. Levanter, “it so +happened that last night I went to the Odalium Theatre +with a friend of mine. I am not going to tell you his +name, but he is a well-known jeweller, who is also a pawnbroker. +The reason why we went to the theatre was that +he and I had just done a very pretty little bit of business +together, so we decided to have an evening at the play, +and a little supper afterwards. We went to the Odalium +because it was musical comedy—my friend loves musical +comedy. We sat in the dress-circle—rather far back, for +the seats were nearly all taken when we got to the theatre. +And we saw you, and Mr. Shrewsbury, and Mrs. Walsingham. +And, of course, I noticed that Mrs. Walsingham +was wearing the necklace.”</p> + +<p>“A necklace, Mr. Levanter,” said Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon, sir—a necklace,” said Mr. Levanter. “Well, +of course, knowing all that I do, I wondered +a bit about this. After a time, my friend drew my attention +to your box. ‘You see the woman there with the +diamond necklace, my boy?’ he said. ‘Yes,’ said I. +‘Wait till we’re having our bit of supper,’ said he, ‘and +I’ll tell you something about that necklace and her, too,’ +he said. Eh, gentlemen?”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne and Blair exchanged looks, and Mr. Levanter, +greatly enjoying his rôle of story-teller, proceeded.</p> + +<p>“You will easily understand, gentlemen,” he said, “that +I naturally pricked up my ears at that, especially as I +saw that my friend—whose name, as I say, I can’t give, +though I may as well tell you that it is to be given, if absolutely +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[193]</span>necessary, which depends, I take it, entirely on +you, Captain Burgoyne—as I saw, I say, that my friend +was a good deal—well, interested in seeing the lady and +the necklace on full show, as it were. However, I never +believe in asking a man to tell anything until he’s ready +to tell it, so I said nothing. I noticed, however, that at +frequent intervals during the evening my friend’s eyes +were turned on your box, gentlemen, and that whenever +he looked that way, he sighed deeply.”</p> + +<p>“We had no idea that we were attracting so much attention, +I am sure, Mr. Levanter,” observed Blair. “But +I interrupt you—pray proceed.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, sir,” said Mr. Levanter, politely. “Well +gentlemen, in due course my friend and I went to have +our bit of supper, and as we had had a profitable deal +during the day, we treated ourselves to champagne. And +after a glass or two, my friend’s spirits seemed to rise. +‘You sighed a good deal in the theatre,’ I said to him. +‘Especially when you looked at the lady with the necklace.’ +‘Ah, my boy,’ said he, ‘so would you have sighed +if you knew all that I do! I had that necklace in pledge, +my boy,’ he said, ‘for nigh on two years, and I was always +hoping that it would eventually drop into my hands, my +boy, but it never did. And it’s worth, my boy, it’s worth +every penny of twelve thousand of the best, my boy, it is, +indeed!’ he said. And then he fell to sighing again.”</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Levanter begged permission to refill the gentlemen’s +glasses, and incidentally refilled his own.</p> + +<p>“Well, gentlemen,” he continued, “the whole story +then came out. It appears that about two years ago—rather +more than two years ago, to be exact—this Mrs. +Walsingham visited my friend, who is, as I told you, but +had better remind you again, a jeweller who is also a +pawnbroker in a first-class line of business, and told him +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[194]</span>she wanted to pledge a diamond necklace, which she there +and then produced, and which he declares to be the one +she was wearing at the Odalium last night. He at once +saw that the necklace was of great value; as he observed +to me over the supper-table, he valued it at not less than +twelve thousand pounds, and he is a knowing man and an +expert. Greatly to his surprise, when he asked her how +much she wished to borrow on it, she replied that she +wanted a thousand pounds, and——”</p> + +<p>“Only a thousand!” exclaimed Blair.</p> + +<p>“Only a thousand pounds, sir,” replied Mr. Levanter. +“And she wanted a special contract, on the terms of which +she was to pay the interest every six months. The transaction +was put through on those terms, and when it was +completed, my friend, who, I must tell you, gentlemen, is +fond of a bargain, began to sound her as to buying the +necklace. Of course, she wouldn’t hear of it, and she took +her thousand pounds and went away. When she came +again, six months later, to pay her interest, he sounded +her again, but with no result. The same thing happened +at six-monthly intervals. Finally, when the necklace had +been in his hands two years, and she came to pay the +fourth six-months’ interest, my friend made a determined +attempt to buy from her—he offered her a big sum.”</p> + +<p>“How much?” asked Blair.</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter smiled and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“That, sir, he did not tell me,” he answered. “But I +gathered that it was a good deal. However, she would not +listen to him then, but he confided to me that at that time +he certainly had hopes of getting her to sell it to him for +seven or eight thousand—he knew, if she did, that he could +get ten thousand for it at once.”</p> + +<p>“A nice profit!” said Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“A very pretty profit, sir,” assented Mr. Levanter, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[195]</span>calmly. “But while he was still anticipating this, the +lady turned up one morning—it is only a few days ago +that this happened—and said that she had come to redeem +her pledge. You may imagine, gentlemen, how +deeply concerned my friend was to hear this! He had +never given up hope of being able to persuade the lady to +sell, and he gave me to understand last night that he was +so anxious to acquire the necklace that he actually increased +his offer until it reached a sum which would only +have left him a nominal profit—say fifteen hundred +pounds.”</p> + +<p>“And yet without result,” observed Blair, drily.</p> + +<p>“Without result, sir!” said Mr. Levanter. “Imagine +a lady—ladies never have much ready money—refusing +eight thousand five hundred pounds in solid cash! However, +this lady would listen to nothing: she paid the +thousand pounds and what trifle of interest there was, and +carried her necklace off. And my friend assured me, +gentlemen, that he felt the transaction almost as much as +if he’d lost a favourite child!”</p> + +<p>“I should think so,” remarked Blair. “Yes, I should +think so.” He glanced at Burgoyne, who was staring +fixedly at the jeweller, and then turned to Mr. Levanter +again. “Well, this is a very interesting story, Mr. Levanter,” +he said. “How does it seem to you?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter smiled slyly.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” he said, “I should just like to ask Captain +Burgoyne—or you, for you know all about it—a plain +question. Was that necklace which Mrs. Walsingham was +wearing at the theatre last night the real genuine article +which Captain Burgoyne lost, or was it the imitation one +which he brought to me?”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne answered promptly—“The real one!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter rose, still smiling.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[196]</span>“Then, gentlemen, I think you know who annexed the +real one when it was—annexed,” he said. “There’s no +need to say more.”</p> + +<p>“Except that for the present the secrecy between us +must remain,” said Blair. “You quite understand that, +Mr. Levanter.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Levanter answered with many smiles and reassuring +nods that he understood, and presently the two friends +went away and walked up Bond Street together.</p> + +<p>“Now, Ralph,” said Blair. “You must be off to Paris +at once. There’s no use in delaying this affair. Get off +this afternoon. Do nothing to-morrow, except to wire for +the youngster. Wire me as soon as he arrives. Tell him +what you’ve got to tell him the day after his arrival. +While you’re tackling him, Winch shall tackle Carsdale, +and I’ll tackle the woman. I shan’t see you again. +Where will you stay?”</p> + +<p>“<i>Bristol</i>,” answered Burgoyne, laconically.</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Blair. “Now, be off. Remember, +this is the eve of battle.”</p> + +<p>“I wish it were against honest enemies!” said Burgoyne. +And he strode away, growling.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[197]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIV<br> +<span class="large">MISS GUYNER INTERVENES</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Carsdale, interviewing his guest over the breakfast table +on the morning following their chance meeting in +the Strand, found Mr. Sydney Werrick extraordinarily +amenable to reason. It appeared that at that moment he +wanted nothing that was out of the way, beyond the immediate +advancing of a sum of money which would re-attire +his person in garments suited to his new environment, +and leave something over to jingle in his pockets. +He had no desire to interfere with Carsdale or with Mrs. +Walsingham just then; let them play whatever game they +were after, so long as they remembered him in connection +with it.</p> + +<p>“I may want you to take a hand in it,” said Carsdale. +“It’s very probable I shall want you. But you shan’t be +left, Sydney.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t propose to be left,” remarked Mr. Werrick, +helping himself to another of the excellent lamb cutlets, +which adorned Carsdale’s breakfast table. “I didn’t come +across to be left.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale took no notice of this quiet intimation. He +drew out a pocket-book. It was a characteristic of his +that he always carried a considerable amount of money +about him in cash. He began to count some bank-notes, +and finally tossed a wad of them over to Werrick.</p> + +<p>“You’ll want some money to be going on with, Sydney,” +he observed. “There’s a hundred.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[198]</span>Werrick cast a careless glance at the present.</p> + +<p>“Pounds or dollars?” he asked lazily.</p> + +<p>“Pounds, of course!” answered Carsdale. “You want +a new fit-out. Do you know where you can get what you +need, ready for wear?”</p> + +<p>“If I don’t, I’ll soon find the place,” said Werrick, +picking up and pocketing the notes. “All right. Then—you +don’t want me for anything, just yet, at all events?”</p> + +<p>“No,” replied Carsdale. “What I want you to do is +to keep quiet. You’re not to bother Sylvie, you understand. +You’re to abstain from any interference. I’ll see +you’re all right at the proper moment. You can look +round the town, and you can put up here. Of course, +you don’t know where my office is?”</p> + +<p>“That,” answered Werrick, “is just what I was going +to find out—if you had one—this very morning.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there’ll be no necessity,” said Carsdale. “My +office is in Abbotsbury House, Norfolk Street, Strand. +And, you’re not to come there, remember. What transactions +you and I have can be done here. But if you ever +want to ring me up, you can do so. There’s the telephone +number.”</p> + +<p>Werrick took the letter-heading which Carsdale threw +him and put it in his waistcoat pocket with a nod. And +Carsdale presently went off to business, leaving his guest +alone, with an intimation to him to take care of himself. +Werrick lighted a cigar, put his feet on a chair, and read +the newspaper. The woman who attended to Carsdale’s +rooms appeared, removed the breakfast things, made the +beds, tidied and dusted, and removed her presence. Werrick +was alone, with a hundred pounds in his pocket, and +the day before him. He smiled grimly as he turned over +to the sporting page, and he informed himself, rolling the +thought over in his mind as if he extracted much pleasure +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[199]</span>from its intellectual stimulus, that there was nothing in +this life so certain as the unexpected.</p> + +<p>Werrick was still considering this thought when a gentle, +but decisive knock sounded on the outer door of Mr. John +Carsdale’s chambers. The guest paid no attention to the +first summons, but when it was repeated he asked himself +lazily whether he had not better see who stood without. +He was quite certain that no one could want him, but it +might be interesting to know who wanted Carsdale. So, +newspaper in hand and cigar in mouth, he lounged forth +and opened the door to find a slim, neat-figured young +lady, heavily veiled, confronting him. Mr. Werrick +gazed curiously at her features and could make nothing +of them. He felt somewhat astonished, too, at the fact +that the visitor did not speak. Accordingly he himself +gave voice.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Carsdale?” he said, taking it for granted that +the caller wanted his host. “Well, he doesn’t happen to +be in.”</p> + +<p>The only effect of this intimation was that the veiled +lady walked into the chambers and that Werrick retreated +before her. And as she crossed the threshold, she raised +her veil and revealed to Werrick’s astonished eyes the +keen, yet pleasing features of Miss Sophie Guyner. Werrick, +in sheer surprise, dropped his cigar.</p> + +<p>“Great Scott!” he exclaimed. “So, it’s you?”</p> + +<p>Miss Guyner, with characteristic presence of mind, +pointed to the outer door, and her host made haste to +shut it. He looked at his visitor a little doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“I say,” he said. “Carsdale might come back any +minute, you know.”</p> + +<p>“No!” said Miss Guyner. “He won’t. I know his +habits—I ought to. And it wouldn’t matter if he did. +I’m equal to any Carsdales. Sit down. No—give me a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[200]</span>drink, for I’m thirsty with the heat. Something with a fizz +in it. But not champagne, though I dare say there’s +plenty in that cupboard. See what else there is.”</p> + +<p>Werrick opened the cupboard door in silence, wondering +all the time what Sophie wanted. At her command +he mixed her a tumbler of light wine and mineral water; +he refreshed himself, having the consciousness of a solid +breakfast behind him, with something a little stronger. +And then, perched on the edge of the table, he looked at +Miss Guyner, who had installed herself in Carsdale’s +easiest chair, and his look was full of inquiry. Nevertheless, +Miss Guyner’s first remark was also of inquiry.</p> + +<p>“So you’re here, are you?” she said.</p> + +<p>“I’m here,” answered Werrick. “Right here.”</p> + +<p>Miss Guyner looked him carefully up and down, from tip +to toe.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she observed, reflectively. “You look like as +if it was time you’d got somewhere. I’ve seen you much +worse, but still, you do look as if it would soon be time +you went where they keep things ready to put on as soon +as you lay down the cash.”</p> + +<p>“If you’d only looked in this afternoon,” remarked +Mr. Werrick, slapping his trousers pocket, “you’d have +found me in purple and fine linen.”</p> + +<p>“A nice tweed suit—grey or brown—and a coloured +shirt would look better,” said Miss Guyner. “Quiet patterns, +of course.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Werrick took another pull at his tumbler, and mentally +congratulated Carsdale on his taste in whiskey and +his make of soda-water.</p> + +<p>“And how did you find me, Sophie?” he inquired, almost +affectionately.</p> + +<p>“I heard Carsdale tell her last night—or, rather, this +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[201]</span>morning,” answered Miss Guyner. “She thought I was +asleep, but I wasn’t. I’m often—very often—awake when +she thinks I’m asleep. It pays me to keep my ears open. +I didn’t hear all that they said, but I heard plenty to +learn that you were here. And so, naturally, I came to +see you.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Werrick left his seat on the table, took one on the +arm of Miss Guyner’s chair, and putting his arm round +her shoulders, kissed her.</p> + +<p>“You were always a good sort to me, Sophie,” he said. +“I’ve thought an awful lot about you.”</p> + +<p>“And I’ve thought a good lot about you,” said Miss +Guyner. “A good deal more than you deserve. Now, +then, that’ll do for the present. What are you up to, +Sydney Werrick?—what’ve you come over here for?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Werrick re-seated himself on the edge of the table, +having first chosen and lighted a fresh cigar.</p> + +<p>“What did I come over here for?” he repeated reflectively. +“What am I up to? Well, I just guess that I’m +going to make John Carsdale and Mrs. Sylvie Werrick do +something in the way of compensating me for the trick +they played on me over there in New York. And I also +guess that Carsdale, at any rate, knows it. So he was with +her last night, was he?”</p> + +<p>“He was there last night,” answered Miss Guyner, +“and I heard enough to know that he impressed it upon +her that whatever it is they’re up to, you’d have to come +in at it. But——”</p> + +<p>She paused abruptly and gave her hearer a nod full of +meaning.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” asked Mr. Werrick, interestedly. “Yes? +And——”</p> + +<p>“You keep your eyes skinned,” said Miss Guyner. “Not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[202]</span>so much for him as for her. She gets cunninger and +cunninger every day. She’s up to something now, or I’m +a Hottentot.”</p> + +<p>“Um!” said Mr. Werrick. “About this young dude, +now? Was she going to marry him, straight?”</p> + +<p>“She was,” affirmed Miss Guyner.</p> + +<p>Mr. Werrick looked into his tumbler.</p> + +<p>“She can marry him to-morrow, for anything I care,” +he remarked carelessly. “But of course, she can’t. Has +she had much out of him, now?”</p> + +<p>“There hasn’t been time,” replied Miss Guyner.</p> + +<p>“Last night I saw her wearing a diamond necklace,” +observed Mr. Werrick. “Real, Sophie?”</p> + +<p>“Real enough! It’s worth every cent of ten thousand +pounds, that necklace,” said Miss Guyner, with enthusiasm. +“But—she carried it off to the bank this morning.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Werrick emptied his tumbler and set it down with +a deep sigh.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said. “That’s a pity. If that bit of property, +Sophie, had come into my hands, and had been converted, +as it would have been, into good solid cash, the +proceeds would have gone a long way towards advancing a +certain little scheme which I have in view, and in hearing +of which you would be greatly interested.”</p> + +<p>“Why should I be interested?” inquired Miss Guyner, +watching him narrowly.</p> + +<p>“Because you may be inclined to take a partnership +in it,” answered Mr. Werrick. “The fact is, Sophie, I’m +sick of knocking about, and I want to settle down. I’ve +been right away out West, and I’m returning West—as +soon as I’ve collected capital. I came over here to collect +capital, and I was highly gratified, when I met Carsdale +last night, to find that I was going to have a better time +than I’d anticipated. I hadn’t figured on it that Carsdale +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[203]</span>would be able to command so much money. Now that I +know he can, well, I’m just going to have what I want, +and then I’m going back—to settle down.”</p> + +<p>“At—what?” asked Miss Guyner.</p> + +<p>“At fruit farming,” replied Mr. Werrick. “Fruit +farming. California. The loveliest climate in the world, +and the most dependable. You’ve nothing to do but see +your fruit grow, ship it off, and rake in the dollars. +That’s what I’m going to do. And you shall come with +me, Sophie.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll see,” answered Miss Guyner in matter-of-fact +tones. “I might, if it seems to promise well. But your +present game, Syd, is to watch those two. Both Carsdale +and her will do you if you’re not sharp. I tell you she’s +up to something now. And I dare say he is.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Werrick’s eyes grew sombre and his brow threatening.</p> + +<p>“I’ll watch ’em!” he observed.</p> + +<p>“You thought to watch ’em in New York, and they were +up and out to Europe, leaving you there to face the music, +before you as much as knew they were after anything,” +said Miss Guyner.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s so,” agreed Mr. Werrick; “but I believe +Carsdale wants to sort of make up for that trip. In fact, +I think he’s got something for me to do that’ll be useful +to him.”</p> + +<p>“Mind you’re paid in advance, then,” said Miss Guyner. +“Now, about her. I can keep an eye on her as long as she +stops at the flat. And I can post you up. And that’s the +real reason why I came down here this morning—we must +meet somewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Mr. Werrick. “But where? You know +best.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” remarked Miss Guyner. “We mustn’t write, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[204]</span>and it isn’t safe to telephone, because, after all, I’m never +certain when she mayn’t be in. Do you know Tottenham +Court Road, Sydney?”</p> + +<p>“I know there is such a street, and maybe I’ve been in +it,” replied Mr. Werrick. “Off Oxford Street, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“It is, and a few doors along it, and on the left-hand +side, there’s a little restaurant called Cyrano’s,” answered +Miss Guyner. “Now, for the present, you drop in there at +twelve noon, and at nine in the evening, and meet me there, +and I’ll give you the news. Start to do that to-night. +And now I’m off, and you’d better do your shopping and +smarten up.”</p> + +<p>So Miss Guyner returned to Bloomsbury, and Mr. Werrick +went out to expend some of his hundred pounds, and +he bought himself two good and quiet suits, and a complete +furnishing of linen and small articles. He amused himself +for the rest of the day in sober and innocent fashion, +but he contrived to walk down Norfolk Street and to view +Abbotsbury House from the outside. And after dining +quietly at an unpretentious café, he set out for Cyrano’s +Restaurant, and in Oxford Street was seen by an American-looking +person who immediately took such interest +in him that he turned and followed him. The interest increased; +the American-looking person followed Mr. Werrick +to the very trysting-place and, having watched him +enter, entered after him.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[205]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXV<br> +<span class="large">THE BLANK CHEQUE</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Left alone to her own reflections, and with the sure consciousness +that the castle in Spain which she had recently +been building had fallen into dust and fragments about her +ears, Mrs. Walsingham, on Carsdale’s departure, immediately +set to work to consider her position. She knew that +everything had gone wrong, that the pleasant and easy-going +present had vanished like a morning’s dream. It +had seemed to her, for at any rate a few days, that all was +going well with her. She meant to marry young Richard; +what was more, she had made up her mind that she would +be a good wife and would take care of him and his money; +she would even manage Carsdale in respect to the last +matter. It would be very easy, in her opinion, to live a +godly and sober life when you were married to an equable-tempered +young man who had twenty thousand a year at +his command, and she proposed to live up to the standard +of high respectability. And now, without warning, all +that fair prospect had vanished, been blotted out, and she +was faced with the naked and ugly fact that once more she +would have to fight for her own hand. And for the space +of two minutes she heartily cursed the dead Sandy Kinahan +and the living Sidney Werrick and the evil fortune +that had brought matters to this untimely pass.</p> + +<p>The most serious factor in the sum of Mrs. Walsingham’s +difficulties was, of course, the man who by the laws of +England was her husband. She allowed herself to remember +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[206]</span>certain previous incidents of her life. She remembered +a boy-and-girl marriage, and a whirl of gaiety and excitement +afterwards as long as Sydney Werrick’s money +lasted; then a period of adventure which was always exciting +but seldom pleasant. She remembered a shifty and +daring time in New York, in which John Carsdale played +a considerable part, and from which she and Carsdale +escaped by the skin of their teeth, leaving Werrick to fall +into the hands of justice and to find an asylum in Sing +Sing. They had heard of him afterwards as having +drifted West, and Sandy Kinahan’s news of his death +had filled them both with joy, for Sydney Werrick alive, +was always a menace and a danger, and all the more so +because he had a quiet and subtle way of doing ugly things. +Mrs. Walsingham had an attack of cold perspiration as +she thought of her legal lord and master as he might be if +an ugly fit took him, and he felt inclined to turn nasty +over the remembrance of the New York affair, and her +first instinct was to rise and flee, the middle of the night +though it was. She fought that impulse down, but the mere +knowledge that Sydney Werrick was alive, that he was +there in London, that he was once more in touch with her +and her world, was quite enough to keep her out of bed +and to make her reckon things up with unusual care. +After all, she informed herself, self-preservation is the +first law of well-regulated nature.</p> + +<p>In that moment of cool calculation Mrs. Walsingham +calmly blotted out everybody and everything but herself +from her world. She dismissed Werrick, and Carsdale, +and Richard Shrewsbury—the one and only question was—what +was she herself to do in order to safeguard herself? +And upon that followed the no less important question—what +was she to do it on? In other words, how did +she stand financially.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[207]</span>There was little difficulty in arriving at an answer to +that question—women of the Sylvie Walsingham type always +know how their private ledger shows itself. She +knew what she could command. She had about three +hundred pounds in ready cash lying at her bank; she possessed +jewellery which was possibly worth another six or +seven hundred. She had the diamond necklace, and she +was very well assured that any jeweller would give her at +least nine or ten thousand pounds for it. And she had a +blank cheque, which Richard Shrewsbury had forced upon +her only two days before, commanding her to fill it up for +whatever sum she liked in order to fit herself out for the +wedding, which was not to be long delayed. She knew +that when he had given her carte blanche in the matter +of filling up the cheque he had meant a few hundreds of +pounds, or a thousand pounds, and even something more. +But there was the cheque, with his bold signature at its +foot—and, so far, she had made no use of it. In that +cheque lay vast potentialities.</p> + +<p>She was still considering these matters, still planning, +scheming, debating, when she rose next morning. She had +been thinking of them half through what had remained of +the night, but she rose at her usual hour and set off for +Norfolk Street according to her accustomed routine, carrying +the diamond necklace with her and depositing it at her +banker’s on the way. And she went through the day’s +business calmly and methodically, though the planning +and scheming was going on in her mind all the time. The +more she thought, the more she was resolved to consider +herself and to be free.</p> + +<p>Carsdale did not come to the office that day until nearly +noon. When they were alone, she looked an eager, if +silent, inquiry. Carsdale nodded reassuringly.</p> + +<p>“It’s all right,” he said. “He quite understands that +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[208]</span>he is not to interfere until I want him. You can make +your mind easy—he won’t come here, and he won’t interfere +with you. Of course, I’ve had to square him with +liberal promises, and to give him cash to be going on with. +But you’re all right.”</p> + +<p>“Where is he?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Left him at my place,” answered Carsdale, carelessly. +“With a hundred pounds in his pockets—to fit himself out +with. I tell you, there’s no need to worry. Sydney is +all right for the present.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham shook her head.</p> + +<p>“You forget,” she said, “that he saw that necklace last +night. He would have a very good idea of its value. And +if his cupidity is aroused——”</p> + +<p>“He fully understands that there’s a bigger game on +than that,” interrupted Carsdale, “and he’ll wait. By +the by, where is the necklace?”</p> + +<p>“At my bank,” she replied.</p> + +<p>“Good,” said Carsdale. “Now, don’t worry. Let’s see—is +the youngster coming in this morning?”</p> + +<p>“He comes in any time, as you know,” she replied. +“He may be in—I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“I want to see him if he does come,” said Carsdale. +“Don’t let him go until I’ve seen him.”</p> + +<p>On that day, however, Richard did not come to Abbotsbury +House until after five o’clock. When he arrived he +looked surprised and mystified, and he threw a note on +Mrs. Walsingham’s desk.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been out trying a new car most of the day,” he +said, as he dropped into a chair, “but I called in at Berkeley +Square as I came along, and found that from Burgoyne—Kedgin +says he scribbled it in a big hurry just before +he rushed off to catch the afternoon train for Paris. +Read it—I don’t understand.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[209]</span>Mrs. Walsingham read the note which Burgoyne had +hastily scrawled on a half-sheet of note-paper.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Dick</span>,” it ran, “I am off to Paris at a moment’s notice—most +important business. I may want you to run over, and +if so, will wire you to-morrow before noon—in that case you +can catch the 2.20 at Charing Cross. Expect wire about noon +in any case.</p> + +<p class="right">“In haste, yours affectly.,    <br> +“R. B.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“What does it all mean?” said Richard. “I don’t +know of any important business in Paris about which Burgoyne +could want me, unless, indeed, it’s something about +his company—I know he has some French people interested +in it, though I’m shot if I know what use I can be in a +business matter. What do you make of it, Sylvie?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham secretly made of it that Burgoyne’s +note was highly convenient to herself. She wanted Richard +Shrewsbury out of the way for a few days, and she had +been cudgelling her brains all the afternoon as to how she +could get rid of him—here, wonderful to relate, was the +very means she had wished for.</p> + +<p>“Of course you’ll go if he sends for you?” she said, +folding up the note.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I suppose so, of course,” he answered, half unwillingly. +“Though, don’t you know, I was going to take +you down to Brighton in this new car to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“That can wait,” she said. “There will be plenty of +time for trips to Brighton, later. Of course, I know what +Captain Burgoyne wants. He has gone over to Paris to +meet the people he mentioned to you as being interested +in his South American company, and he no doubt feels +that it will give him moral support if you’re at the back +of him in his interviews with them. That’s it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[210]</span>“Oh, is that it?” said Richard, innocently. “Oh, well, +of course, I’ll go—it’ll be rather fun, as I’ve never been +in Paris. But I should have thought Carsdale would have +been much more likely.”</p> + +<p>At that moment Carsdale, bustling and busy, put his +head into the room.</p> + +<p>“Hullo, Shrewsbury!” he said. “That’s lucky—I just +want you—some papers to sign—mere formalities.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Richard. “Look here”—and he +tossed Carsdale the note which Mrs. Walsingham had just +read. “Sylvie says Burgoyne probably wants me to give +him moral support with the Frenchmen,” he said, laughing. +“Don’t you think you’d do better?”</p> + +<p>Carsdale read the note at a glance. He, too, was glad +to have Richard out of the way for a while. He gave Mrs. +Walsingham a glance, and saw that the same thought was +in her mind.</p> + +<p>“By no means,” he said. “You must go yourself if he +sends for you. The probability is that Burgoyne wants +to be able to introduce you to some French capitalists as +a friend of his who is about to invest largely in his South +American company. Oh, you must go, Shrewsbury, of +course. Just come into my room and sign those papers, +will you?”</p> + +<p>Richard, who never asked any why or wherefore of Carsdale, +followed his man of business obediently and dashed +off his signature at the foot of the documents which Carsdale +placed before him. He never read anything that he +signed, never asked questions about anything; his faith +in Carsdale was complete and absolute. Now, as he +pushed the papers away from him, he began to talk about +the new car, which was waiting at the door; he induced +Carsdale to go down to see it; finally, he whirled Mrs. Walsingham +away in it, to dine at an idyllic country hotel +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[211]</span>which he had recently discovered in Surrey, and Carsdale +watched them depart, and laughed as he hastened back to +his office.</p> + +<p>“That note of Burgoyne’s is a piece of sheer good luck!” +he said to himself. “I only hope he’ll send for the youngster.”</p> + +<p>By noon the next day Carsdale knew that his hope was +fulfilled. Richard turned up at the office with an intimation +that he was off to Paris by the two-twenty from +Charing Cross. He carried Mrs. Walsingham off to lunch +with him, and, meeting Carsdale on the steps, assured him +that he should be back within forty-eight hours. Carsdale +laughed and clapped him on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>“You’ll be an ass, Shrewsbury, if you don’t stay at any +rate a week while you are there,” he said. “I shan’t expect +you for a week.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, he’ll stop a week,” said Mrs. Walsingham. +And a little later, when she and Richard were lunching in +a private room at the hotel, she checked a tendency to sentiment +on his part by telling him that he was silly in wishing +to hasten back: he and Captain Burgoyne, she said, +would easily find plenty wherewith to occupy and amuse +themselves in Paris for a week, or for a fortnight, if they +were so minded.</p> + +<p>“I wish you were going with me!” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“I wish I were, but I’m not, so there’s an end of it,” +she answered, quietly. And she remained in the same +quiet mood during their leave-taking; and when she had +seen the train move away from the platform, and had +gracefully waved her hand in reply to Richard’s generous +gesticulations, she turned and walked away to the motor-car, +which awaited her pleasure, as unconcernedly as if +she had just said farewell to a favourite dog or cat which +was being shipped to the Antipodes. For always before +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[212]</span>her was the consciousness of her present perilous situation, +and the fear of what might happen if Sydney Werrick +suddenly took into his head to play the part of the bad +man.</p> + +<p>She calmly reviewed the whole state of things that night, +and she resolved on her line of conduct for the next day. +She consulted a Bradshaw with great care and attention; +she made some shorthand notes in her little private memorandum +book. And in the privacy of her own room, +securely locked in for the night, she took Richard Shrewsbury’s +blank cheque from her secret drawer, and laying it +on her desk, filled it in with a steady hand for the sum of +fifteen thousand pounds.</p> + +<p>That night Mrs. Walsingham went to bed and slept long +and well.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[213]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVI<br> +<span class="large">EVERY WOMAN FOR HERSELF</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham went out early the next morning fully +conscious that she had a hard and a trying day before her. +But her excellent night had fitted her for whatever lay in +front; now that the critical moment had arrived, she felt +something of the joy of battle in her veins; she rose to the +occasion with a zest which gave her positive pleasure. +She was going to fight for her own hand; by nightfall she +hoped to be in a position from which she could, metaphorically, +snap her fingers at anything which savoured of the +past. So she tripped out of Bloomsbury flats, and went +Strand-wards, all unconscious of the fact that Mr. Sydney +Werrick, who to his many other accomplishments added +that of being able to cleverly disguise himself, watched +her emerge and sauntered after her at a comfortably easy +pace and distance. But Mr. Werrick, in his turn, was +equally unconscious that he, too, was shadowed by a keen-eyed +person who had no intention of losing sight of him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham, following her usual habits, crossed +Russell Square, went down Southampton Row and Kingsway +to Norfolk Street, and entering Abbotsbury House, +remained there for a good hour, during which time Mr. +Werrick killed the slow moments by various devices, in +which tedious occupation he was imitated by his shadow. +Werrick knew already that there was but one entrance and +one exit to Abbotsbury House; on it, however much he +lounged about Norfolk Street, however deeply he professed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[214]</span>to be interested in the kaleidoscopic life of the Strand, as +seen from the two corners of the street-top, he kept the eye +of a lynx. And at length he saw Mrs. Walsingham emerge, +and he followed her to a neighbouring bank; and when +she came out of its doors, a few minutes later, he followed +her along the Strand. Then Mrs. Walsingham openly and +boldly walked into the shop of Mr. Wiertz, and Mr. Werrick +took up a position on the opposite side of the street, +and wondered what she was doing in the establishment, +which was ornamented by the unmistakable sign of the +pawnbroker.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiertz, who happened to be in his shop when Mrs. +Walsingham entered, was surprised to see her, though he +was not sure why he was surprised. That her visit was +connected with financial reasons he felt assured, but for +the moment he could not surmise what particular kind of +financial reasons they might be. He greeted Mrs. Walsingham +with great politeness, however, remembering the +magnificence in which he had recently beheld her at the +Odalium Theatre, and he came bowing and smiling towards +her as she entered and fixed an inquiring gaze upon him. +Mrs. Walsingham, however, knew that what Mr. Wiertz +was really bowing and smiling at was the diamond necklace, +or his recollections of it.</p> + +<p>“I want to see you in private, Mr. Wiertz,” she said, +without preface.</p> + +<p>“With pleasure, madam,” replied Mr. Wiertz. He led +the way to his sanctum at the extreme rear of the premises, +and carefully shut the door upon himself and his customer +before he placed his most comfortable chair at her disposal. +“We shall not be disturbed here, madam,” he said. “But +you are familiar with my little den.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham laid her handbag on the table and +rested an elbow upon it.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[215]</span>“You remember my diamond necklace, Mr. Wiertz?” +she said, going straight to her subject. “Of course you +do.”</p> + +<p>“I remember it, Mrs. Walsingham, and I had the pleasure +of seeing you wear it the other night,” answered Mr. +Wiertz.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham started and looked a question.</p> + +<p>“At the Odalium—close by,” said Mr. Wiertz. “Yes—I +indulged myself with a seat at the play. And very +beautiful it was—the diamond necklace, I mean, of +course.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham laughed.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you couldn’t take your eyes off it?” she +said.</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiertz bowed. He also smiled, blandly.</p> + +<p>“It would, of course, attract you much more than anything +you saw on the stage,” continued Mrs. Walsingham. +“Yes, I remember that you always had a great liking for +my necklace, Mr. Wiertz. You also wanted to buy it. +Very well—I want to sell it.”</p> + +<p>This blunt announcement produced two effects on Mr. +Wiertz. A great wave of joy leapt up in his soul; it was +followed by a mightier wave of caution. He took off his +spectacles and began to polish them. Previously, Mrs. +Walsingham had not wished to sell; now, Mrs. Walsingham +did wish to sell. That difference made—all the difference.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said. “Yes? Now, when I wanted to buy +the necklace, I had a customer in view. Now I have no +customer in view.”</p> + +<p>“That’s of no consequence,” said Mrs. Walsingham, +with fine indifference. “It doesn’t make the slightest difference +in the value of the stones, you know. I remarked +that I want to sell the necklace, just as it is. How much +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[216]</span>will you give me for it, Mr. Wiertz—prompt cash?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Mr. Wiertz. “I—I am not +thinking of buying anything so very——”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham stopped him with a glance.</p> + +<p>“Don’t let’s waste time in foolish talk, Mr. Wiertz,” +she said. And, as if to show how practical she meant to +be in the matter, she unlocked her bag, took out a case and +unveiled the diamond necklace before him. “You know +you want to buy this,” she continued, “and now I’m prepared +to sell it to you. You made me an offer once before—I +didn’t really know the worth of the stones, then. +Now, I do. And so—how much are you going to offer me—cash?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiertz took up the diamond necklace and examined +it carefully. His fingers trembled a little as he put +it down again.</p> + +<p>“I had an immediate customer at that time,” he protested. +“Now, it is too late, and if I bought this, I should +have to wait, and to look about me, and——”</p> + +<p>“Stuff!” said Mrs. Walsingham. “And nonsense, too. +You know as well as I do that if you buy that necklace +you can sell it again within twenty-four hours and make +an enormous profit. What you’re calculating at this moment +is how you can beat me down so that you can increase +that profit. But you won’t, Mr. Wiertz. I’ve got +my own price on that diamond necklace, and I’m going +to have it. It doesn’t matter whether you give it to me +or not. Because, if you don’t somebody else will.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiertz rubbed his hands together and smiled +feebly.</p> + +<p>“How—how much do you want?” he asked.</p> + +<p>“Ten thousand—cash,” answered Mrs. Walsingham, +promptly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[217]</span>“Oh!” exclaimed Mr. Wiertz. “Oh, really, it’s—impossible.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham swept the necklace, case and all, into +her handbag. She made signs of departure.</p> + +<p>“Impossible!” repeated Mr. Wiertz. “I—I couldn’t +sell at a profit on that. Say—we’ll say eight thousand, +dear lady.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve said what I want,” replied Mrs. Walsingham. +“And what I want, I’ll have. Ten thousand is my price.”</p> + +<p>“I might go to eight thousand five hundred,” said Mr. +Wiertz. “You see——”</p> + +<p>“I only see that you’re wasting time,” responded Mrs. +Walsingham. “I tell you I can get ten thousand elsewhere.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Wiertz hesitated. Finally he stretched a hand towards +the bag.</p> + +<p>“Well, well, let me see it again,” he said. “Really, +you are very extortionate, you know, and my profit would +be——”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham handed the necklace to him again.</p> + +<p>“Ten thousand—not a penny less,” she said.</p> + +<p>The jeweller examined the necklace still more closely. +At last he turned to his desk.</p> + +<p>“How do you want it, then?” he asked. “A cheque?—or +I can send out and get you notes if you like?”</p> + +<p>“If you please,” said Mrs. Walsingham. She sat back +in the easy chair, and put the tips of her fingers together. +“You’ve got a good bargain there, Mr. Wiertz—you know +you have.”</p> + +<p>“But I shall have to find a customer,” said Mr. Wiertz, +as he began to write a cheque. “You ladies are so cruel +when it comes to bargaining.”</p> + +<p>The keen-eyed gentleman who was watching Mr. Sydney +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[218]</span>Werrick had by this time become aware that Mr. +Werrick was watching some other person, and he accordingly +waxed anxious to know who that other person was. +So when Werrick suddenly woke up from lazy contemplation +of the Strand and its crowds, and turned eastward +again, his shadow looked about him to see whom he shadowed, +and he was not long in deciding that Werrick’s attentions +were fixed on the neatly-gowned little lady who +made her way back to Norfolk Street. And his sharp eyes +saw that she carried a handbag which was secured to her +wrist by a chain which was something more than ornamental. +After that, he watched his man more keenly than +ever.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham re-entered Abbotsbury House and +stayed there for half an hour. When she came out she +went up into the Strand and boarded a City omnibus. She +boarded it at a moment when there was a block in the +traffic; Werrick, superbly confident in his disguise, took +advantage of this to board the same bus. Mrs. Walsingham +got a seat within the vehicle; Werrick climbed to the +top and took good care to see who got on and who got off +whenever the bus stopped between that point and the +City. As for the man who was following Werrick, and +who knew him quite well in spite of his disguise, he openly +followed Mrs. Walsingham into the bus, being assured by +that time that if he kept an eye on her he would also be +keeping an eye on the man who rode above their heads.</p> + +<p>In this close companionship these three people rode +down into the heart of the City. At the Mansion House, +Mrs. Walsingham got out of the omnibus, and betook herself +into Threadneedle Street. Werrick followed; the +shadow followed him. Mrs. Walsingham entered the doors +of a well-known private banking firm; Werrick lounged +past them, turned, retraced his steps and met his shadow +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[219]</span>face to face. The shadow knew that he was safe; Werrick +showed no sign of sudden recognition; showed nothing: +he did not, indeed, seem to see the man whose eyes +met his. And the man congratulated himself, and passing +on, paused at a convenient point, and thenceforward +kept a look-out for the grey Homburg hat which crowned +his quarry’s dark face.</p> + +<p>The private bank into which Mrs. Walsingham had gone +was that whereat Richard Shrewsbury kept his account. +She was known there, for she had often transacted business +over its counters for both Richard himself and for +Carsdale, and when she presented her cheque for fifteen +thousand pounds, accompanied by a slip stating what notes +she wanted the amount in, it was duly honoured with no +more delay than was necessary in counting and checking +the notes. And if the two men who were watching outside, +each with different motives, had but known it, Mrs. Walsingham +presently went off with twenty-five thousand +pound’s worth of Bank of England notes in her handbag. +But whatever Werrick might guess and the other man wonder +at, they knew nothing certain, and the chase began +again, Werrick following Mrs. Walsingham, and the keen-faced +man following Werrick.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham went away to Lombard Street, and +there turned into the Anglo-Austrian Bank. The man +who was shadowing Werrick saw her enter; he also saw +Werrick pass the door in his sauntering, seemingly purposeless +fashion. He himself, hesitating as to what he +should do next, turned his attention from his quarry for +a moment; when he looked round again, Werrick had disappeared. +The shadow hastened his steps looking everywhere; +Werrick was nowhere to be seen. Then the +shadow, hastily inventing an excuse, entered the bank, +and asking a question over the counter of the first clerk +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[220]</span>he saw, contrived to take a view of the people about him. +His man was not amongst them, nor was the woman his +man had been following. And though the shadow hung +about for some time, he saw neither Mrs. Walsingham nor +Werrick again. The truth was that Mrs. Walsingham, +having come there by appointment, was transacting some +private business in an inner room, and that Werrick, having +found out all that he wanted just then, had slipped +round a corner, negotiated some courts, and was going +back West to meet Sophie Guyner. Eventually, the shadow, +who knew very well that Werrick was living at certain +chambers in Jermyn Street, and who had no concern with +Mrs. Walsingham, went away. Mrs. Walsingham remained +some time at the Anglo-Austrian Bank; when she +came out she walked in leisurely fashion as far as the +Mansion House. There she was about to board another +bus, but instead of doing so, she turned away to a telephone +box and spoke to Sophie Guyner, telling her that +she was sending Griffkin up to the flat with a couple of +theatre tickets for that evening, and that she herself +should not be home until late. That done, she found a +bus and went back to Norfolk Street, and employed herself +in her usual avocations until the end of the afternoon, +when she repaired to her favourite Soho restaurant and +dined. She gave more time to her dinner than was her +wont, and it was twenty minutes to eight when she rose +and departed, and went home to Bloomsbury. And there, +as he came along the corridor from the direction of her +own door, she found herself face to face with Captain +Blair.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[221]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVII<br> +<span class="large">PLAIN TRUTH</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>The man and the woman, meeting thus suddenly in the +silence of the big, barrack-like building, paused involuntarily, +and looked at each other in a questioning surprise. +To the man, all the difficulty, the delicacy, the undoubted +unpleasantness of his position rose up with new and telling +force; he realized how thankful he would be to run +away from his self-imposed task, and it was only when he +thought of the seriousness of that task that his face grew +set and his eyes stern. It needed no second glance at set +face and stern eyes to tell the woman that trouble stood +in her path; she had felt that as soon as she saw the military +figure, rendered more striking by the vacant sleeve +which was pinned up to the square, well-thrown-out chest +advancing upon her. For a moment she blanched, and +a sudden pang shot through her heart. She noted it +with a vague curiosity, wondering, amongst all her other +thoughts, if her heart had become affected. But her +woman’s wit, the sense of her own danger, the knowledge +that she herself, having got Sophie Guyner out of the way, +had only come to the flat to obtain certain articles before +leaving it for ever, steeled her nerves. She summoned up +a smile of astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Captain Blair!” she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Captain Blair made a stiff and ceremonious bow.</p> + +<p>“Good evening, Mrs. Walsingham,” he said politely. +“I have just called at your flat, but I could get no +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[222]</span>response to my ring. May I see you for a few moments?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Captain Blair,” answered Mrs. Walsingham. +“I’m sorry you got no answer, but I believe my +maid has gone to the theatre. I am usually home before +this time, but I’m a little late to-night.”</p> + +<p>“I am informed that you were generally to be found at +home about a quarter to eight,” said Blair following her +along the corridor.</p> + +<p>“As a rule,” said Mrs. Walsingham. She produced a +latch-key, and opening the door of her flat, motioned her +visitor to enter. “Come in, Captain Blair,” she said, +and she pointed to the open door of the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Blair walked in, again wishing that he could run away. +He glanced rapidly around him and noted the abundant +evidences of refinement and taste—the books, the pictures, +the old china and glass. But he suddenly remembered another +side of his hostess’s character, and he became ice-cold +to all but the needs of the moment, which were, after +all, that he should speak plainly and firmly.</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” said Mrs. Walsingham. She dropped into +an easy chair, with her back to the light, and looked at +her visitor. And it seemed to Blair that in her eyes there +was something of an amused speculation, if not of a careless +defiance.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Walsingham,” he began. “I—I have called to +see you upon business which is—er——”</p> + +<p>“Unpleasant!” she said quickly. “Unpleasant!”</p> + +<p>“How do you know that?” asked Blair.</p> + +<p>“Because I cannot suppose you would call on any other +business,” she answered. “Well, let us discuss it, then—I +am pressed for time, for I have to go out again.”</p> + +<p>Blair looked at her steadily. He saw that he was dealing +with a woman who would probably care little for anything +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[223]</span>he might say—it would be best, then, perhaps, to be +brief and plain, even to the verge of brutality.</p> + +<p>“I have called, Mrs. Walsingham, on behalf of my +friend, Captain Burgoyne,” he said. “You are doubtless +aware that Captain Burgoyne is very much attached +to young Mr. Richard Shrewsbury, to whom you are engaged +to be married?”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Mrs. Walsingham.</p> + +<p>“Captain Burgoyne,” continued Blair, “does not approve +of that engagement.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham laughed.</p> + +<p>“He would be glad to see Mr. Shrewsbury released from +it,” said Blair.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham laughed again.</p> + +<p>“In fact,” said Blair, “Mr. Shrewsbury must be released +from it. Must!”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham ceased to laugh. She sat up, and an +angry spot showed itself in each cheek.</p> + +<p>“Must!” she exclaimed. “And why ‘must,’ Captain +Blair? What right has Captain Burgoyne to say ‘must’ +to me?”</p> + +<p>“I am here to explain to you why Captain Burgoyne +says ‘must,’” answered Blair. “The fact is, Mrs. Walsingham, +Captain Burgoyne, whether you know it or not, +has got what is commonly called the whip hand.”</p> + +<p>“Over me?” she said.</p> + +<p>“Over you!” said Blair, quietly. “Over you. Unmistakably +and undoubtedly, over you. So he gives you +an alternative. Either you will give up, dismiss, get rid +of—anything you like to call it, so long as the reality is +there—young Shrewsbury, or——”</p> + +<p>“Or—what?” she demanded sharply.</p> + +<p>“Or you go to prison,” answered Blair. “To prison.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham drew in her breath sharply. She +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[224]</span>favoured her visitor with a cool and a long stare. Finally +she shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I am not good at riddles, Captain Blair,” she said. +“Will you have the goodness to tell me what this is +about.”</p> + +<p>“I am quite sure that you know what it is about,” answered +Blair. “What I think you do not know is that Captain +Burgoyne knows more than you think he knows. +You made a false step, Mrs. Walsingham, when you allowed +young Shrewsbury to buy the imitation necklace +from his friend.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham showed no sign of agitation or fear. +By that time she was ready and prepared for anything, +and she turned apparently innocent and wondering eyes +on her visitor.</p> + +<p>“This is so much Greek to me,” she said lightly. “Be +plain, if you please, Captain Blair.”</p> + +<p>“Very good,” responded Blair. “Then perhaps I had +better tell you what we know——”</p> + +<p>She interrupted him with an arch laugh.</p> + +<p>“‘We!’” she repeated. “Oh—so you, too, are concerned. +I thought as much, the other night.”</p> + +<p>“I speak as Captain Burgoyne’s friend,” continued +Blair. “What we know is this—Before he left England +for South America, three years ago, Captain Burgoyne +deposited with your late employer, Mr. Barclay Leverton, +a diamond necklace as security for a loan of five thousand +pounds. That necklace Mr. Leverton placed in his +safe. You abstracted that necklace from that safe very +shortly afterwards; you had a facsimile of it skilfully +manufactured, and you put the facsimile where the real +article should have been. Then you——”</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute, if you please,” said Mrs. Walsingham, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[225]</span>interrupting him with a lifted hand. “Is this all +surmise or is it knowledge?”</p> + +<p>“That you shall see for yourself,” replied Blair, “Let +me go on. You then went to a well-known jeweller and +pawnbroker, who is quite prepared to give evidence +against you—ah, I thought that would surprise you, Mrs. +Walsingham!—and you pawned the real necklace for a +thousand pounds on a special contract, under the terms of +which you paid so much interest every six months. Frequently, +that jeweller endeavoured to buy the necklace +from you, but you would never consent to a sale, and +eventually you redeemed the necklace by paying back the +thousand pounds which had been lent to you. That was +quite recently. You had a deep scheme in your mind. +And you believed, Mrs. Walsingham, that Captain Burgoyne +was unaware that what had been delivered to him +by the late Mr. Leverton’s executors was mere paste! +But Captain Burgoyne was not unaware. He discovered +that fact almost at once. And—he quickly suspected you. +And then, a trap was laid for you. You are a very clever +young woman, but you walked into that trap as easily as +we could wish.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham made no answer. She had none to +make. For one of the few times in her experience, she +was genuinely surprised. She had firmly believed that +her dealings and transactions with Mr. Wiertz were sacredly +secret—yet here was this man with the stern eyes +fully cognizant of them. It might be that he was also +cognizant of what had taken place between her and Mr. +Wiertz that morning. So she remained silent, listening +intently.</p> + +<p>“I say you walked into that trap,” continued the level-toned +voice. “We were sure that you had the genuine +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[226]</span>necklace, and so we contrived that you should have the +sham one also. We knew that when you had both in your +possession you would feel safe. We also knew that you +would be sure to begin wearing the real necklace. And +we gave you an opportunity of wearing it, and you did +wear it. Then, of course, we knew all. It would make a +very pretty story in a criminal court, Mrs. Walsingham.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham gazed at her persecutor with sullen +eyes.</p> + +<p>“I believe you engineered all that,” she said suddenly. +“I’m sure you did. Burgoyne hasn’t the brains to have +done it. But you can’t prove anything of it. Whatever +it was that Burgoyne sold the boy, the boy bought for +genuine, and Burgoyne sold for genuine, and the boy +paid his money—ten thousand pounds. What do you say +to that, pray?”</p> + +<p>“Only that Mr. Richard Shrewsbury’s cheque for ten +thousand pounds has never been presented by Captain +Burgoyne, and never will be, and that we can prove that +what was handed to him was the imitation necklace which +you had caused to be manufactured and of which, at that +very moment, you possessed the original,” answered Blair. +“It’s no use quibbling, Mrs. Walsingham—the case +against you is complete. You had better take our terms +while we are inclined to be merciful.”</p> + +<p>“What do you want?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Blair drew out his pocket-book.</p> + +<p>“A mere written acknowledgment of the fact that you +abstracted the necklace from Mr. Leverton’s safe will do,” +he said, producing a sheet of note-paper on which some +lines were written. “Perhaps you will read this.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham looked the confession over.</p> + +<p>“I will sign that,” she said. “I did take the necklace.” +And she took up a pen from her writing-desk close by +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[227]</span>and dashed off her signature, and handed the paper back. +“And I suppose that’s all?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Blair was more than a little astonished at her coolness. +The matter seemed to be one of absolute indifference to +her. He began to wonder if she was tricking him in some +way. Yet—there was her signature.</p> + +<p>“All,” he said, “except—the return of the genuine +necklace. You must give me that.”</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Walsingham shook her head.</p> + +<p>“No!” she said firmly. “I shall do no such thing. It +is not yours, at any rate. If I give it back to anybody it +will be to its legal owner, whether that’s Captain Burgoyne +or Dick Shrewsbury. It may belong to one of the +two, but it certainly doesn’t belong to you.”</p> + +<p>“Captain Burgoyne is at present in Paris,” said Blair.</p> + +<p>“And so is the boy,” she remarked. “And I dare say +I can guess what has taken him there—now. Burgoyne +has got him over so that you could do this dirty work in +his absence. All right!—but you’ll get nothing out of +me. If either of them want the thing, let them come to +me for it.”</p> + +<p>“You understand,” said Blair, speaking very slowly, +“you understand that this paper which you have signed +will be shown to Mr. Shrewsbury. It is scarcely probable +that he will care to see you after he has read it and realized +what it means.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Walsingham burst into a peal of silvery laughter.</p> + +<p>“What do I care whether he cares to see me or not?” +she retorted defiantly. “That’s all over and done with. +But I can tell you this, you solemn-faced old goose, that +in spite of that paper, and in spite of what you say, and +in spite of Burgoyne, and of all of you, if I cared to lift +a finger, I could have the boy at my feet again—yes, and +keep him there! Do you hear that, Captain Blair?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[228]</span>“I hear it, and I doubt it,” replied Blair.</p> + +<p>“Well, I don’t, then,” she said. “However, I’m not +going to argue with you. I have business to attend to, +and I want to go out. I dare say you can open the door +for yourself.”</p> + +<p>Blair unconsciously moved a little towards the door.</p> + +<p>“I think that even now you scarcely appreciate your +position,” he said.</p> + +<p>“I appreciate it only too well,” she replied. “Am I +to ask you to leave me? Or can’t you take a hint?”</p> + +<p>“The necklace——” began Blair, “the necklace——”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t yours,” she retorted. “Now, go!”</p> + +<p>Blair shook his head, went to the door, let himself out, +and left her alone. She sprang to the door and locked it +after him. Then, moving quickly, she went into her bedroom, +and opening a small safe which was let into the +wall, she took from it certain articles of jewellery which +she had no mind to leave behind her, together with a +pocket-book which contained money.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, as she placed these things in her bag, Mrs. +Walsingham heard a slight sound in the room she had just +left. She turned, and in the gathering gloom saw the +door being slowly pushed open towards her. Round its +edge were the fingers of a man’s hand—square-nailed, +strong, suggestive. She looked, hesitated; then her own +hand stole into a pocket of her gown, and her fingers +grasped the tiny revolver which she always carried.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[229]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXVIII<br> +<span class="large">A QUESTION OF ACCOUNT</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>On the morning which followed Richard Shrewsbury’s +departure for Paris, Carsdale, turning over the letters +which lay on his desk at Abbotsbury House found, on looking +at the flap of one envelope, the old-fashioned seal of +Mr. Septimus Winch, who kept up the old-time habit of +securing his correspondence in a thoroughly dependable +way. He tore it open with an exclamation of impatience.</p> + +<p>“What does this old ass want?” he muttered, running +his eye over the enclosure. “More about Leverton’s affairs, +I expect.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Winch’s letter, however, gave Carsdale no information: +it merely stated that Mr. Winch would feel much +obliged if Mr. Carsdale would call upon him at eleven +o’clock. Carsdale glanced at his watch, it was already +ten minutes to the hour named. He went to his safe, took +out the papers which Richard had signed so hastily the +previous day, put them into his breast pocket, and caught +up his hat and umbrella.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Walsingham been in?” he asked as he strode +through the outer office.</p> + +<p>Griffkin replied that Mrs. Walsingham had been in, and +had gone out again, before Mr. Carsdale arrived.</p> + +<p>“Tell her, when she comes in, that I shall be in and out +all day, but out most of the time, and that she isn’t to +make any appointments for me,” said Carsdale. “I may +be out all the time.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[230]</span>Then he hurried off to Lincoln’s Inn, wondering what +Mr. Winch wanted, and grumbling because he himself was +anxious to get down to the City in order to carry out +certain plans which he had been maturing in his mind +since the previous day. He was not well pleased, on reaching +the old lawyer’s office, to be kept waiting five minutes +beyond the appointed time, nor did it increase his good +temper, when he was admitted to Mr. Winch’s private +room, to find Frances Leverton there. He bade solicitor +and client a curt good-morning, and he was too much preoccupied +with his own affairs to notice that neither offered +to shake hands with him.</p> + +<p>“Good morning, Miss Leverton; good morning, Mr. +Winch,” said Carsdale, in his usual rapid manner. “I +have very little time to spare this morning, and I only +got your note as I was starting out for the City, but I +thought I would call in. What can I do for you, Mr. +Winch?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Winch waved his hand to a chair.</p> + +<p>“Sit down, Mr. Carsdale, sit down,” he said. “I dare +say we shall not detain you very long: it depends largely +on yourself. Miss Leverton had asked me to see you on +her behalf, but all things considered, I thought it best +that she should see you with me. So she is here.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Carsdale, impatiently. “Yes?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Winch put the tips of his fingers together.</p> + +<p>“The fact is, Mr. Carsdale,” he said slowly, “the fact +is, Miss Leverton, who has, as I believe you know, a sure +aptitude for business matters, has been gradually going +through her late father’s papers and winding up his concerns +since his death.”</p> + +<p>“Just so,” said Carsdale. “So I understand. I offered +my assistance to Miss Leverton.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[231]</span>“I think Miss Leverton has done very well without it,” +said Mr. Winch, dryly, “though I am sure it might have +been most valuable. Now, Mr. Carsdale, Miss Leverton +has naturally brought to light certain matters with which +she had not been familiar during her father’s life. With +some of those matters you were concerned; with one or +two of them very intimately concerned.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale showed signs of impatience.</p> + +<p>“No doubt, no doubt,” he said. “There are still matters +between us which are not cleared up. I have more +than once put myself at Miss Leverton’s disposal in those +matters, but she has never taken advantage of my offer.”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, because those matters were not worth attending +to!” said Mr. Winch. “But there was a matter which +was worth attending to that you did not mention to Miss +Leverton, nor to me, nor to anybody.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale, under his impatient surface, was all attention. +He had a clear notion of what was coming, and he was +thinking hard as to how to meet it, what to say, and what +to do.</p> + +<p>“To what do you refer, Mr. Winch?” he asked calmly.</p> + +<p>“I refer, sir, to the matter of the Chilwhele Mine Concession,” +replied Mr. Winch, with a stern glance. He laid +his hand upon a pile of papers at his side, tapping it significantly. +“Here are the documents, sir. It is only by +the greatest skill and the utmost patience, Mr. Carsdale, +that Miss Leverton has got at the truth of that matter—her +father never knew it. But we, his legal representatives, +know it. Now, sir, I am going to tell you the plain +truth, and I tell you it advisedly, staking my reputation +as a solicitor upon what I say. You subjected my late +client, Barclay Leverton, to a mean fraud!”</p> + +<p>“Fraud is a strong word, Mr. Winch,” said Carsdale.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[232]</span>“It is a strong word, and an ugly word, and a nasty +word, sir!” retorted the old solicitor. “And it is the +only word to use in this case. Fraud!”</p> + +<p>Carsdale shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Abuse me, if it pleases you, Mr. Winch,” he said +quietly. “All the abuse you can shower on me is a matter +of indifference to me. And——”</p> + +<p>“It will not be a matter of indifference to you, sir, when +a Scotland Yard man taps you on the shoulder,” said +Mr. Winch, angrily. “I know a case of common fraud +when I see one. It is a wonder you have been found out, +for you are a clever fellow, Mr. Carsdale, but found out +you are, and you shall learn it.”</p> + +<p>“And you may threaten me as you please,” said Carsdale, +“for all your threats are as indifferent to me as your +abuse. But perhaps you and Miss Leverton will allow me +to give my version of this matter—I believe that even a +prisoner may speak in his own defence. This affair of +the Chilwhele Mine Concession, Mr. Winch, is a mere question +of account. Now, hear me,” he continued, as the old +solicitor raised a hand in protest. “Whatever you say, +it is a question of account, and nothing else: it is a question +of very intricate account, and that is the reason why +there has been so much delay in settling it. I told you +just now that there were matters between us—that is, between +you, as Mr. Barclay Leverton’s executors, and myself, +as an informal partner of his—which were not yet +settled up. This is one of them. Now, as it so happens, +Mr. Winch, I completed the statement of accounts in that +matter only yesterday, and I have it in my pocket-book, +and here it is.”</p> + +<p>And from amidst the numerous papers in his pocket-book, +Carsdale selected one and laid it on Mr. Winch’s +desk. It looked to be newly type-written; it was very +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[233]</span>neat, and precise, and business-like; in reality, it had been +in the pocket-book ever since Barclay Leverton’s death, +ready for any emergency. The emergency had arisen; +the document accordingly made its appearance.</p> + +<p>Mr. Winch picked it up with a frown and glanced it +carefully over, motioning Frances, who sat at his side, to +look at it at the same time. And Carsdale, knowing his +advantage, went on in his glib and plausible, and, just +then, slightly-injured tones.</p> + +<p>“That is a full statement of the matter,” he said. “My +books are open to your inspection. You will perceive that +there is a balance due to the late Mr. Leverton’s +estate of two thousand seven hundred and eighty-five +pounds. I was going to send you a cheque for that +amount at the end of this week, Mr. Winch. As I am here, +and as you have said what you have said, I will give you +the cheque now.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale drew out his cheque-book and turned to an +adjacent table. But Mr. Winch threw down the statement +and raised his voice.</p> + +<p>“Stop, sir!” he said. “I decline to receive that cheque +until I have had this matter fully investigated. I have +proof here of what you did in this matter, sir, and it cannot +be settled by your sitting down and writing a cheque. +I won’t have that cheque, sir—you shall not write it!”</p> + +<p>Carsdale laughed contemptuously and went on writing.</p> + +<p>“You can no more stop me from writing a cheque, Mr. +Winch, than you can stop me from making it payable to +you,” he said calmly. “There it is, on your desk—and if +you send it back to me, I shall post it to you. You have +now statement and cheque, and the matter is closed as far +as I’m concerned. And as regards your charge of fraud, +Mr. Winch, let me hear of it again, and you shall hear +from me. Good day, sir, and good day, Miss Leverton.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[234]</span>“Stop, sir, stop, I say!” exclaimed Mr. Winch. “I +tell you, sir, I——”</p> + +<p>But Carsdale only laughed and strode out, and the old +solicitor and Frances looked at each other. Mr. Winch +suddenly ceased fuming, and shook his head. “That,” +he said, “is a man who will always escape by the skin of +his teeth! My dear, I am afraid he has been too sharp +for us. I wonder if he was speaking the truth? I wonder +if he really meant to render an account?”</p> + +<p>“If he did, why did he never mention the matter before?” +asked Frances. “No—he has been too sharp, as +you say. He must have been prepared—I’ll swear we +should never have heard word or whisper of the Chilwhele +Concession from him if he hadn’t suddenly been plumped +with it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, after all, there’s the cheque,” observed Mr. +Winch. “See, he’s left it open—I’ll send it round and +see if we can get cash for it.”</p> + +<p>“Then we shall accept his version of it and have done +with him,” said Frances. “The cheque will be met all +right.”</p> + +<p>“Let us see—let us see!” said Mr. Winch, a little skeptically. +“And after all, my dear, it is the money we want, +you know.”</p> + +<p>But Frances wanted more than that, and when Mr. +Winch’s clerk had been to Carsdale’s bank and had come +back with a sheaf of bank-notes, she went away discontented. +Carsdale, it seemed to her, had slipped out of +the noose she wanted to keep around him. But she had +other concerns connected with him to see to, and she went +off to see to them.</p> + +<p>In a suite of palatial rooms, at the top of an equally +palatial building, Frances was soon closeted with a well-gowned, +smart woman who might have been the head-mistress +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[235]</span>of a girl’s high school instead of what she was—the +soul and brains of a private detective agency.</p> + +<p>“You are still keeping Mr. Carsdale under close observation?” +said Frances, who had taken it upon herself to +institute a particular surveillance over the movements of +her late father’s partner two days before.</p> + +<p>“Quite so, Miss Leverton,” replied the head of affairs +cheerfully. “I have two of my very best people devoting +themselves to him, and there will be a third—a very smart +girl who has just joined my staff—on the work this afternoon, +when one of the others comes off. And as you are +not particular about expenses, I have an especially good +man detailed for the evening and night work. Oh, yes!—from +the moment Mr. Carsdale left his rooms in Jermyn +Street this morning until he goes back to them to-night, he +will be continually under observation. We can’t, of course, +penetrate into the offices and places of business where he +may go, but we shall always know where he is, and whom +he calls to see, and so on. Now, here, for instance, is his +record of yesterday, you see.”</p> + +<p>Frances took the detailed report which the principal +handed her and glanced it over with all the awe which +attaches to the reading of a secret document. It set +forth all Carsdale’s movements of the day before, and she +was bound to confess that they all seemed to be very innocent +and ordinary, and such as he might reasonably +have been expected to make in the way of business. She +gave it back without comment.</p> + +<p>“I rather gathered,” said the principal, “that you are +afraid of this man leaving the country suddenly.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Frances. “I think it very likely that he +may do so.”</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s a very easy thing for a man to do that, you +know,” remarked the principal. “He’s nothing to do +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[236]</span>but jump into a train or take a swift motor-car down to +the coast. And if we should detect him in either of those +acts, how are we to stop him? It isn’t as if the police had +any warrant out against him. I’m afraid all we can do +is to keep you thoroughly posted in his movements while +he is in England.”</p> + +<p>“That will be a great deal,” said Frances. “I want +to know where he is, what he is doing, what is likely to +happen. I can tell a good deal from merely knowing where +he goes on business.”</p> + +<p>Then she went away, reflecting on the wiliness of Carsdale. +She was certain in her own mind that if he had not +been confronted with the matter by Mr. Winch he would +never have mentioned the affair of the Chilwhele Mine +Concession to her, never have sent her a cheque. Putting +two and two together, she began to get at a gleam of the +truth. Carsdale was one of those clever folk who can see +rocks ahead and exercise great ingenuity in steering clear +of them. And in his hands rested Richard Shrewsbury’s +fortune!—why, it might vanish into thin air at any moment, +and Carsdale with it. She went home feeling that +the events of the morning had been all in the adventurer’s +favour. She and Mr. Winch had failed. She had no +hold on Carsdale now—the mere cashing of his cheque +had destroyed whatever hold she had had, and she recognized +that he had gone away from New Square more +powerful for trickery than ever.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[237]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXIX<br> +<span class="large">THE SILENT TENANT</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Carsdale went away from his interview with Mr. Winch +and Frances Leverton conscious of mixed feelings. He +was triumphant, and yet he was annoyed; he had scored +a success over two people whom he cordially disliked, but +his victory had cost him the greater part of three thousand +pounds. Although he had always been prepared for this +sudden onslaught, he was not a little surprised when it +came, and as he walked out of New Square he was puzzling +his brains to make out how Frances had worked up the +evidence against him, for he himself had begun to believe +that he was safe. That young woman, he decided, was a +great deal too clever; he began to regret that in past days +he had not made up to her; it was evident that she possessed +a good business head and knew what figures meant, +and she might, under favourable conditions, have been +very useful to him. Instead of that, she was his enemy, +and, as events had just proved, a formidable one. “Lucky +that I was always able to keep a reserve at the bank in case +that ever did come up!” he muttered as he made for Fleet +Street. “There’d have been the devil to pay with old +Winch if I hadn’t taken the upper hand. Well, that’s +two thousand seven hundred gone, anyway.”</p> + +<p>This amount, however, seemed a mere nothing in comparison +with the potentialities which Carsdale carried in +the inner breast pocket of his immaculate morning coat. +They were simple enough matters in themselves—only +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[238]</span>two or three papers with Richard Shrewsbury’s signature +hastily scrawled at the foot of each, but they—and the +signature—gave Carsdale full and entire power to deal +with his young client’s fortune. Carsdale, as he chartered +a taxi-cab at Temple Bar, was master of a quarter of a +million of what was as good as ready money.</p> + +<p>The bank at which Richard Shrewsbury kept his account, +and whereat the securities lay which Carsdale was now +hastening to lay hold of, was an old-established, old-fashioned +private concern, belonging to two families, the respective +heads of which were staid and sober old gentlemen +whose business concerns were of such an eminently +respectable nature that they were neither of them given to +suspecting evil. And accordingly, when Carsdale interviewed +one of them in the private parlour, and presented +an order from Richard which empowered him to take such +securities as he thought fit, they regarded the matter as +one of ordinary business, and made no remark when he +selected two hundred thousand pounds’ worth of stock +which was convertible into ready money on sight. Polite +old gentlemen both, they simply took Richard’s written +order and Carsdale’s receipt, and expressed a polite hope +that young Mr. Shrewsbury was well and enjoying himself. +“Quite well, thank you,” replied Carsdale, in his pleasantest +matter. “The fact is that Mr. Shrewsbury contemplates +matrimony, and I am accordingly going to put +the bulk of his property on a rather better footing. I +shall have some even stronger securities for your care +presently, gentleman.”</p> + +<p>The two old gentlemen said they should always be glad +to take care of anything for Mr. Shrewsbury or for Mr. +Carsdale. Anything sounder than the present securities +they could hardly conceive of; however, if Mr. Shrewsbury +was about to marry, perhaps an extra one, or even a half +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[239]</span>per cent., would be an advantage, and no doubt Mr. Carsdale +had something in his eye.</p> + +<p>“Oh, an excellent readjustment, excellent—a rare opportunity, +gentlemen,” said Mr. Carsdale, cheerily. “One +that I must not miss on my young friend’s behalf—a stock +that is seldom on the market.”</p> + +<p>“We hope Mr. Shrewsbury is making a good marriage?” +said one of the partners. “He is still young.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, a most excellent marriage—excellent!” answered +Carsdale. “A very wise marriage—delightful and clever +lady.”</p> + +<p>Then he took the securities and went off and plunged +into the labyrinths of that mysterious City wherein men +play with the signs and symbols of money as children play +with pebbles and broken potsherds, and within an hour +the securities were sold and Carsdale was commanding two +hundred thousand pounds, and had, moreover, so disposed +it that it was safely in his own keeping. There was nothing +more to do then but to put half the world between him +and London, and he meant to do that at once. He had exploited +London quite sufficiently, and had not done well +out of it; his eyes were turned now to other and uncultivated +pastures, where a man of capital might do wonders. +And it being then about luncheon time, he turned into a +famous City restaurant, and ate and drank with a good +heart, and over his subsequent cigar and coffee he consulted +certain shipping lists, quite unaware that an innocent-looking, +well-dressed gentleman, who had lunched +in close proximity to him and had afterwards followed +him into the smoking-room, was keeping a close observation +on all that he did.</p> + +<p>Carsdale like all men of his type had a soft spot, and +his particular soft spot was for Mrs. Walsingham. She was +not only his cousin, but his pupil in his particular school +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[240]</span>of finance, and when, as a school-girl, she had made a fool +of herself by running away with and marrying Sydney +Werrick, he had stood by her, helped her when hard times +came, and had eventually taken her and Werrick into a +sort of partnership with him in New York, where the three +had indulged in certain shady pursuits which had landed +Werrick in jail and brought the other two perilously near +to the same fate. Carsdale and Sylvie, both filled with +a strong and intensely selfish notion of the virtues of self-preservation, +had escaped that fate and jumped quickly +for England, and there each had met with big strokes of +luck and for a time done well. But the luck had died +down; Leverton’s death had taken business away from +Carsdale; he had made two or three bad speculations; +people were beginning to fight shy of him; certain investors +were saying nasty things about him; it was time to seek +an entirely new field. And the question which chiefly +concerned him as he sat in that City smoking-room, idling +away the time which he had no mind to spend at his office, +was—what was to be done about Sylvie?</p> + +<p>He was not going to desert her, he said to himself. That +was certain—but he was equally certain and determined +that he was not going to be saddled with Sydney Werrick. +And the only way in which to get rid of that inconvenient +person was to make a prompt start on the part of Sylvie +and himself. So far he had said nothing to her of his +definite plans, but he knew her well enough to be assured +that she would do exactly what he advised and asked her +to do. And so, when he had finished his coffee, he walked +out once more into the City, and repairing to Moorgate +Street, entered the offices of the Royal Mail Steam Packet +Company. When he came out, half an hour later, he carried +away with him two first-class tickets for Buenos Aires, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[241]</span>available by a boat which was due to leave Southampton +next morning.</p> + +<p>Carsdale now proposed to himself to cut clean adrift +from everything. His notion was that if you have done +with a thing, you have done with it. He had no need to +return for even a moment to the old life. He was carrying +upon him two hundred thousand pounds in a form which +could easily be converted into cash in any civilized country +in the world, and at a moment’s notice; in addition to that +he also carried a very considerable sum in notes and a +sufficiency in gold. There was no reason whatever why +he should revisit his office in Norfolk Street nor his rooms +in Jermyn Street. He knew that as Richard Shrewsbury +had gone to Paris he would be sure to find Mrs. Walsingham +in at night—ten minutes’ conversation with her would +be sufficient for his purposes. Never for a moment did +it cross his mind that Mrs. Walsingham might be playing +her own game, might be making plans of her own. He +had become so accustomed to her continual appeals to him +for advice that it never occurred to him that she would do +anything on her own initiative. So he continued to take +all that for granted, and went on making his arrangements +under the firm impression that she would readily +and willingly fall in with them.</p> + +<p>The man who was shadowing Carsdale formed certain +conclusions after he saw his quarry enter and leave the +shipping office. When, after following him up West, he +saw him go to a well-known outfitter’s, whose boast it was +that they could supply everybody with anything at a moment’s +notice, his conclusions grew stronger, and, taking +his chances in his hands, he entered a telephone box, and +ringing up his principal, asked for an assistant to be sent +to him at once, explaining that he believed his man was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[242]</span>contemplating a bolt. Thus, for the rest of the day, Carsdale +was shadowed by two men instead of one. But, all +unconscious of this, he went steadily on with his preparations. +He bought all that was necessary for a sea-voyage +at the outfitter’s, had his purchases packed into two portmanteaux, +and drove with the portmanteaux to a certain +motor-garage in Long Acre. The men who followed him +saw the portmanteaux carried inside.</p> + +<p>“That’s a sure tip,” said one. “He’s going off by +motor. What’s to be done? We can’t stop him.”</p> + +<p>“Wait a bit,” replied the other. “He mayn’t be going +now. If he leaves those portmanteaux there, we shall +know that he means to go from here. That’s the main +point. Then we can report.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale was steadily carrying out his policy of cutting +everything adrift. He possessed a motor-car of his own, +a good, serviceable car, which was at that moment standing +idle in a West-End garage, and could have been used +at once. But he was not in the mood to revisit any of +his old and accustomed haunts, and he purposely chose an +establishment whereat first-class cars were let out on hire, +because he was not known there. He explained carefully +what he wanted—a first-rate road car that would run him +down to Southampton that night, and he made a selection +out of the cars shown him which showed that he knew what +he wanted in the way of speed, convenience, and comfort. +He paid the hire there and then, saw his portmanteaux +deposited in the car, and ordered it to be in readiness at +any hour after nine o’clock. Then he left, and the men +who were shadowing him saw that he had left his portmanteaux +behind, and drew their own conclusions. He meant +to come back; he meant to go away—so much was evident. +One of them went off to report progress to the principal +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[243]</span>of the private detective agency; the other continued to +follow Carsdale.</p> + +<p>It was then getting towards evening, and Carsdale had +nothing more to do. He knew that he would probably +find Sylvie at her favourite restaurant in Soho if he went +there, but he had no mind to be seen anywhere where he +was likely to be known or recognized. So he lounged +away from Long Acre half-aimlessly, and turning up St. +Martin’s Lane continued to kill time by looking at the +wares displayed in the second-hand book shops. Between +six and seven he strolled into Oxford Street, and suddenly +catching sight of Frascati’s decided to go in and dine. +That, at any rate, would bridge the time until he went +round to Sylvie’s flat.</p> + +<p>The man watching Carsdale, seeing him enter Frascati’s, +and judging that he meant to dine there, promptly rang +up the office, said where he was, and asked for his relief. +The relief presently came along in a taxi-cab; the smart +young woman of whom the principal had spoken to Frances +in the morning. She had shadowed Carsdale for three +hours on the previous evening, and she was quite eager for +more work of the same sort. When she heard that her +man was probably dining, she decided, having high ideas +of doing a thing thoroughly, that she would enter the restaurant +herself and embrace the opportunity of inspecting +Carsdale at close quarters while she, too, dined. She +quickly found him and got a seat near him; Carsdale, if +he noticed her at all, probably put her down as a well, but +quietly-dressed young woman who had taken it into her +head to come out and dine by herself. And she, watching +him without seeming to do so, decided that, whatever he +was after, he was a cool and matter-of-fact individual, for +he ate and drank in methodical and leisurely fashion, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[244]</span>showed no signs of haste or of unusual thought, and looked +indeed for all the world like nothing but a smartly-dressed +man who had finished his business and meant to enjoy his +evening.</p> + +<p>It was a little after eight o’clock when Carsdale finally +walked out of Frascati’s and turned towards Tottenham +Court Road. The girl slipped out after him, and, before +she had gone many yards, was joined by the man whom +she had relieved.</p> + +<p>“I had an idea that I might be useful to-night,” he said, +“so I got some dinner close by, and came back. If he’s +going to bolt to-night, two of us will be needed.”</p> + +<p>Then they separated, and continued to watch their man +from distinct points. And Carsdale, all unconscious of +the espionage, went on.</p> + +<p>He had not a doubt that all his plans would succeed—a +firm faith in his own star had always been one of his +chief characteristics, and it was as firm as ever. A very +brief conversation and explanation with Sylvie, and they +would be off, and by that time next day they would be +well on their way down the Channel. His spirits, always +sanguine, rose at the thought, and he walked along more +briskly, humming a tune.</p> + +<p>There were two entrances to the block of flats in which +Mrs. Walsingham lived; Carsdale went in by the first he +came to, and made his way to her door. He always carried +a latch-key to that door, for he sometimes made use of the +flat when its occupant was not in. And now, never dreaming +of anything untoward or wrong, he opened the outer +door, and walking in, and seeing inner doors open, called +Mrs. Walsingham’s name. There was no answer to his +call, and something in the silence of the place suddenly +struck him with a sense of uneasiness. He hesitated; +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[245]</span>then walked into the nearest room. And there, lying +across the threshold of Sylvie’s bedroom, he saw a huddled +and motionless figure, and knew it instinctively for that +of a dead man.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[246]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXX<br> +<span class="large">BURGOYNE FACES THE MUSIC</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Captain Ralph Burgoyne, installed at the <i>Hôtel Bristol</i>, +in Paris, awaited young Richard Shrewsbury’s arrival +with about as much pleasure as a dentist’s patient, sitting +in a luxuriously-appointed reception-room awaits the summons +to that other room in which the practical part of the +business is transacted. He had been in some tight places +in his life, he said to himself, but never in a hole which +was so absolutely detestable to all his tastes and ideas +as this was. He had been in action more than once; he +had known the tortures of hunger in one continent and +the agonies of thirst in another; he was not quite sure +whether he would not have undergone battle, thirst and +hunger again rather than tell young Dick Shrewsbury what +he had to tell him. For Burgoyne knew that the lad believed +in Carsdale and in Mrs. Walsingham, and like all +simple and honest men, he hated to be obliged to prove to a +very young man that the pillars on which the edifice of his +trust had rested were of uncommonly rotten clay. That +revelation, that discovery, might, he felt, sour and embitter +the youngster for life. But—it had to be done.</p> + +<p>It was all the harder to do because of Richard’s high +spirits. It was late at night when he arrived, but nothing +would content him but to drag Burgoyne out in order +to get a glimpse of this wonderful Paris at once, especially +at midnight. He kept Burgoyne out of bed until an +unholy hour; even then, when they had got to their rooms, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[247]</span>he began to be inquisitive about Burgoyne’s reasons for +fetching him over.</p> + +<p>“Business, of course,” he said.</p> + +<p>“Well, of course, I don’t know anything about business, +but whatever it is, depend on me, old chap. Carsdale said +it must be business—you’d a lot better have had Carsdale +here, Burgoyne. But what is it, anyway? Your company, +I expect.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne succeeded in producing a prodigious yawn.</p> + +<p>“Oh, to-morrow!” he said. “Time enough to-morrow—I’m +half asleep.”</p> + +<p>But he slept little when he got to his bed and his countenance +was melancholy when he met Richard at breakfast. +The younger man rallied his senior on it, and Burgoyne +made an excuse about his liver. The truth was that +he was fighting down an inclination to put off the evil +moment; as he looked at the boy’s young and eager face +he felt as if he were going to stab him in the back. And +yet, Heaven knew, he was only anxious, desperately anxious, +to save him from a fate at the mere thought of which +he himself shuddered.</p> + +<p>“Hang it all, pull yourself together, man!” he said, addressing +himself, and cursing his own cowardice. “The +thing’s got to be done, and it’s best to do it at once.”</p> + +<p>He carefully engineered his charge to the Bois du +Boulogne when they went out after breakfast, and got +him to himself on a seat in a quiet corner. The air was +full of summer, and the trees were green, and there was +water splashing like diamond sprays in the sunlight, and +there were children and their nursemaids about, and +everything was gay and pleasant, and Burgoyne miserably +contrasted it with the sordid story which it was laid +upon him to unfold. And suddenly, after he had spent +some silent moments in tracing patterns upon the gravel +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[248]</span>at his feet, he burst into his subject, violently and awkwardly.</p> + +<p>“I say, Shrewsbury!” he said. “About this—this business +that I asked you to come over and see me about, you +know.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” answered Richard.</p> + +<p>“I—you see, it wasn’t about my business that I wanted +to speak to you,” said Burgoyne. “It was about—yours.”</p> + +<p>Richard turned from the contemplation of a nursemaid, +who was flirting with a portly policeman, to stare at his +companion in astonishment.</p> + +<p>“Mine?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Yes, by Jove, yours!” replied Burgoyne. “I—look +here, youngster, you look on me as a friend, don’t you? +You trust me, eh?”</p> + +<p>Richard stared more than ever. Then, with a sudden +impulse, he stretched out a hand and laid it on the elder +man’s arm.</p> + +<p>“Dear old chap!” he said. “I look on you as—why, +as a sort of second father. Of course!”</p> + +<p>“I’m deuced glad to hear it, boy,” said Burgoyne, fervently. +“Deuced glad! It—it makes it come easier, +what I’ve got to say. Got to say, you understand, Dick? +I don’t want to say it—hate to say it, by Gad!—but I’ve +got to.”</p> + +<p>Richard began to have an idea that something as unpleasant +as it seemed to be important was in the air.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Burgoyne?” he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>“It—it’s a damned nasty thing to have to talk about, +sir,” said Burgoyne, viciously assaulting the gravel with +his walking-cane. “I wish I could talk of something else. +It’s about—about Mrs. Walsingham.”</p> + +<p>Richard stiffened.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[249]</span>“What about Mrs. Walsingham?” he asked. “Remember, +I’m engaged to be married to her.”</p> + +<p>“I do remember it, sir, and that’s what makes things +so confounded awkward, and—and ugly,” said Burgoyne. +“It’s only because I’m—fond of you, and anxious about +you, and all that, don’t you know, that I’m speaking to +you. You see, I know what you don’t know. It’s—it’s +about that damned diamond necklace, which I wish to +Heaven I’d never seen.”</p> + +<p>Richard was staring at a fountain which was throwing +up sprays of liquid fire amongst the trees in front of them. +He knew by that time that Burgoyne had some revelation +to make to him; he guessed from his manner and his +reluctance that it was something unpleasant.</p> + +<p>“You’d better tell me straight out what all this is,” he +said.</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll ask you to understand that every word I’m +going to say to you is the truth, lad,” said Burgoyne, emphatically. +“Not what I believe to be the truth, but the +absolute, provable truth. Every word that I say to you +can be substantiated. You know that I left my diamond +necklace in pledge with Barclay Leverton.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Richard.</p> + +<p>“You were with me when I redeemed it—or thought I +did—from Leverton’s executors—his daughter and his +solicitor?”</p> + +<p>“I was.”</p> + +<p>“What I got there wasn’t my necklace at all,” said +Burgoyne. “It was a paste imitation. I found that out +the morning I went with you to Levanter’s, in Bond +Street, to buy that ring. Or, rather, Levanter found it +out. Paste, sir! I didn’t say a word to you, but I had +some suspicion, and I began to make inquiries. My necklace, +Dick, had been stolen while it was in Barclay Leverton’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[250]</span>possession, though he knew nothing about it. And—take +it steady, my boy, hard though it is!—it was stolen +by Mrs. Walsingham. That’s the absolute truth—truth!”</p> + +<p>Richard made no answer. He, too, leaned forward and +began to trace unmeaning patterns in the gravel. And +Burgoyne, scarcely daring to look at him, went on hurriedly.</p> + +<p>“The real necklace, sir, my necklace, was stolen by Mrs. +Walsingham from Barclay Leverton’s safe,” he continued. +“She pawned it at once. She got it back after I returned +home; she had it in her possession all the time I had the +paste thing—which she got made—at Levanter’s. What +I sold you was the paste thing, and I knew it at the time. +Your cheque is here, in my pocket-book—see, here it is, +and there you are—you can tear it up, or keep it, or do +what you like with it. It was by selling you that paste +affair that we found out the truth, or, rather, established +it.”</p> + +<p>“‘We’?” said Richard. “Whom do you mean by +‘we’?”</p> + +<p>“Blair and myself. We laid the trap—we knew, really, +by then, but for your sake, we wanted to make absolutely +certain,” replied Burgoyne. “I’ll tell you all the details—you’ll +see, then, youngster, that you’re getting the +truth, ugly as it is. And I hope I shall never be mixed +up in such a dirty business in my life again, sir, never!”</p> + +<p>Richard sat in stony silence while Burgoyne told him +the whole story. He knew Burgoyne: he knew he was +hearing the truth. And he was conscious, all the time +that he listened, of a certain feeling of restored freedom. +He had often realized, in moments when he had time to +think calmly, that he had asked Mrs. Walsingham to marry +him through sheer impulse, and, in spite of a naturally +loyal disposition, he had been tempted to ask himself if +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[251]</span>he would have made her that offer in a calmer mood. Now, +he knew that he would never marry her, and he asked himself +whether he was glad or sorry to know it.</p> + +<p>“There, that’s all, and now I’ve done my duty!” said +Burgoyne, when he had made an end. “Gad, sir, it’s +the most unpleasant thing I’ve ever done in my life—but, +my lad, it’s what your father would have had me do, don’t +you know.”</p> + +<p>Richard laid his hand on Burgoyne’s arm and pressed +it.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Burgoyne,” he said. “I know you. +Now, why didn’t you tell me all this in London? Why +get me over here?”</p> + +<p>“We thought it best, Blair and I,” answered Burgoyne. +“We thought you’d better be clear of things for +a day or two, while Blair spoke to—her.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said Richard. “So Blair is going to speak to—her?”</p> + +<p>“He is, sir,” said Burgoyne. “My boy, don’t you see, +you must be got out of the hands of those two. You’ve +taken this well—you’re a good lad—and you must hear +me out. You must have no more to do with this woman, +or with Carsdale.”</p> + +<p>“Carsdale?” exclaimed Richard. “Carsdale!”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne was quick to note the surprise in the lad’s +tones; he was somehow conscious of a shrewd suspicion +that Richard would feel it more to hear of Carsdale’s +treachery than of the woman’s.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said. “I know you’ve a great belief in Carsdale. +But it’s no use denying it, Dick, the man has a +bad reputation. You don’t know all that I know. To +keep up any business relations with him is to be cheated +in the end—perhaps ruined. Indeed, my boy, you don’t +know!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[252]</span>Richard stood up; a far-away look came into his eyes, +and his lip curled.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me,” he said, slowly and bitterly, “it +seems to me, Burgoyne, that I don’t know anything. I +have had one blow this morning—now I get another. I +have trusted in Carsdale fully. He was kind and obliging +to me when I came, a stranger, and my bankers complimented +me on the excellent investments he made for me. +I’ve never found him untrustworthy in anything.”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne groaned and shook his head.</p> + +<p>“My dear Dick!” he said. “My dear boy! I know +how beastly it is to hear these things. But I’m telling +you the truth—I’ve wormed things out for your sake. +Carsdale is a deep dog—a crafty dog, sir. It has never +struck you that from every one of the tradesmen he took +you to he would get a very handsome commission; it has +never occurred to you that it was his policy at first to +make those investments so as to establish confidence. But +now, tell me, Dick, as you’d tell your father—have you +ever entrusted money to him to do as he liked with?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—ten thousand pounds,” replied Richard +promptly.</p> + +<p>“You’ll never see it again, my lad, you’ll never see it +again!” exclaimed Burgoyne. “Tell me further, since +we’re at it—have you ever signed any papers for him that +you didn’t read?”</p> + +<p>“I signed some papers yesterday afternoon,” answered +Richard. “I didn’t read them.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my God!” said Burgoyne. “I wish I’d spoken +sooner. Boy, the man’s a swindler! He defrauded Leverton +out of a considerable sum of money—Frances Leverton +has found it out, she’s going to hold it over him—hold +the threat of prosecution over him, I mean—for your +sake.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[253]</span>Richard flushed.</p> + +<p>“For my sake?” he said. “Miss Leverton?”</p> + +<p>“Winch is tackling him to-day on it,” answered Burgoyne. +“It’s the only hold we have on him. If he doesn’t +give up all connection with you, release everything he has +of yours, they’ll prosecute him on the other matter. It +was the only way, lad. If your friends don’t save you +from the fellow, you’ll be ruined—ruined! I got you +over here to keep you out of the way while—while Blair +and Miss Leverton did what they could with the woman +and him. What is it, boy?”</p> + +<p>Richard was sternly motioning him to rise.</p> + +<p>“Come on, Burgoyne,” he said. “I’m off back to London. +You all mean well—kindly—all of you. But I’ll +fight for myself, though I won’t refuse the help of any of +you. You meant well, old chap, but oh, why didn’t you +tell me of this on the spot? Come on—let’s be off!”</p> + +<p>But Burgoyne had a business appointment for the afternoon +which he was bound to keep, and it was not until +late in the evening that they could leave Paris. Richard +fumed and fretted at the delay, and was moody and taciturn +throughout the journey. It was early morning when +they reached Charing Cross and turned into the hotel for +breakfast. And there Burgoyne, taking up a morning +newspaper, saw the first brief news of what had happened +on the previous evening at Mrs. Walsingham’s flat.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[254]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXXI<br> +<span class="large">WAS IT MURDER?</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Carsdale, arrested in his progress across Mrs. Walsingham’s +drawing-room by the sight of the still figure which +lay on the threshold of the inner door, knew with a sure +prescience of coming evil that here was trouble—bad, +black trouble. He stood staring around him, astonished, +afraid. The whole place was so still, so very quiet, that +he knew he was absolutely alone there with the thing +which lay almost at his feet—the thing which he knew, +from its attitude, its motionlessness, to be dead. His lips +suddenly grew dry, his tongue parched, his fingers began +to twitch aimlessly—Carsdale was badly upset and frightened; +the exclamation that presently burst from him +seemed to rattle in his mouth.</p> + +<p>“My God!” he whispered. “What—what’s this?”</p> + +<p>The room was dull and sombre in the fast-gathering +twilight; although the dead man lay face upward, his +hands clutching frenziedly at the top of his waistcoat, +Carsdale could not distinguish his features from where he +stood. But he presently crept nearer, holding by the +edge of the table, and at last, getting close up to the body, +he bent fearfully down and looked at the face, and recoiled +as he recognized it.</p> + +<p>“Sydney Werrick!” he said. “Sydney Werrick! God +in Heaven!—he’s dead.”</p> + +<p>Then he braced himself and stretched out a finger, and +touched the dead man’s forehead and one of the clenched +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[255]</span>hands. And again he started back, for the flesh was still +warm. And then Carsdale knew that he had arrived just +too late to avert a tragedy. His bewildered mind began +to clear; some dim realization of what had happened woke +up in him. Mechanically he moved to the wall, and, pressing +a switch, turned on the electric light. In its full glare +he looked from where he stood at the dead man’s face. +And he was thankful, then, to see that the eyelids were +closed.</p> + +<p>Carsdale turned back out of the drawing-room, went +into the dining-room, and going to the cellaret in the sideboard, +found brandy, and tossed off half a tumbler at a +gulp. The spirit steadied his shaken nerves; his natural +resourcefulness began to assert itself. He stood for a moment, +thinking. The question was—what was to be done?</p> + +<p>He realized by that time that a tragedy had happened +of which he had never conceived the possibility. He knew +very well that this was no case of suicide—Sydney Werrick +was not the man to take his own life under any circumstances; +he was much too fond of it, especially when +he had money in his pocket and the prospect of more coming +to him. He had been shot—possibly by accident, perhaps +by intention. And who could have shot him but +Sylvie? And where was Sylvie—and where was Sophie +Guyner? And how had Werrick come there? But the +last question was unimportant; the really pertinent fact +was that Sydney Werrick was there—dead.</p> + +<p>Carsdale took a hurried look around him. There was +nothing in the appearance of the dining-room to show +that there had been any struggle, any disturbance. He +went back into the drawing-room; everything there was +in order, too. And now, having got over his fright, he +went up to the body and examined without touching it. +Except for a slight frown which had puckered the forehead +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[256]</span>between the eyes and parted the lips a little, the face +was calm; Carsdale judged from that that death had been +instantaneous. The hands were gripping the clothing +about the chest; looking more closely, Carsdale saw a +single spot of blood that had oozed out through the under-clothing +and the shirt to the fancy waistcoat and had +spread a little over the light material. He knew then that +Werrick had been shot through the heart, probably as he +crossed the threshold between the two rooms, and that he +must have spun around, clutching at his breast, and have +fallen dead in the attitude in which he then lay.</p> + +<p>Carsdale stepped carefully over the dead man and entered +the bedroom. That, as it faced some high building +at the rear of the flats, was in greater gloom than the +drawing-room. He switched on the electric light and +looked about him before going further. There were traces +of recent occupancy there. On the bed were thrown a +coat and skirt which he recognized as Sylvie’s; he had +seen her in them only a day or two before, noticing them +particularly because they were new. Near them, also on the +bed, lay a hat which he knew as hers—it had evidently +been thrown down in haste, as had also the walking costume. +Carsdale argued a good deal from the appearance +of these things; he knew Sylvie to be tidy, orderly, and +careful of her clothes and hats to a fault, and he realized +that she must have been in desperate haste to be gone +when she flung her gown and hat aside in that fashion. +If it were she who had shot Werrick, he said to himself, +then she had changed her attire afterwards, hurrying to +get away from the dead man, and the scene of his death.</p> + +<p>Going further into the room, Carsdale saw that the small +safe which Sylvie had had built into the wall, was open. +He saw papers and books lying inside; one of the two +drawers was pulled out and was left unshut and empty. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[257]</span>Within the safe lay a satin-lined jewel case, also empty.</p> + +<p>“Collected her money and her jewels and hurried off,” +muttered Carsdale. “And she can’t have been gone many +minutes when I came.”</p> + +<p>He turned to the dressing-table, still prying and examining. +And suddenly his eyes caught sight of the revolver, +a toy weapon which he himself had given to Sylvie, +a year or two before, when there had been burglars in the +flats, and she had expressed a fear of them. It lay on +the edge of the dressing-table, as if she had dropped it +there as soon as the fatal shot was fired. He picked it up +and examined it. One chamber had been discharged; the +others were still loaded.</p> + +<p>As Carsdale stood, handling the revolver, and wondering +what he was to do next, he heard the outer door of +the flat open, a light footstep in the hall, and then in the +dining-room. He stood waiting; then, still unconsciously +holding the revolver, stepped towards the door. He +heard the footstep again; the next instant he found himself +standing on one side of the dead body, and saw, confronting +him from the other, Sophie Guyner.</p> + +<p>It seemed to Carsdale a whole eternity before the maid +spoke. Her eyes went from him to the dead man; from +the dead man to him; back to the dead man. She leaned +forward trembling violently; it seemed to him that the +mere glare of her frightened eyes was potent enough to +call life back to the lifeless limbs. Slowly she raised her +head, shrank back, and stared at Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“It’s—it’s Syd!” she gasped. “He’s—dead. You’ve +killed him! Oh! Oh!”</p> + +<p>Carsdale saw what was coming and made a half-step +towards her.</p> + +<p>“Hold your tongue!” he said in a fierce whisper. +“Don’t you see——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[258]</span>Sophie backed away from him; suddenly all control +went out of her. She turned and darted through the door +and the corridor rang with her shrieks. “Help! Murder! +Help!”</p> + +<p>“Come back, you hell cat!” shouted Carsdale, leaping +after and trying to clutch her. “Come back! You’ll +have the whole——”</p> + +<p>But already doors were opening on either side, and a +uniformed official was running towards Sophie from the +head of the stairs, while the lift, just then passing, came +to a sudden stop, and excited faces looked out of its barred +door. The ugly cry seemed to be taken up all round—the +very walls seemed to echo it.</p> + +<p>Carsdale uttered a hearty and fervent curse, and, re-entering +the flat, swallowed some more brandy. Then +he suddenly remembered that he was holding the revolver +in his left hand, and he went back and laid it on the dressing-table, +just where he had found it. As he stepped over +the dead man again, Sophie Guyner and a porter in uniform, +and a lift-boy, and a couple of policemen came pouring +in, and beyond them, at the outer door, Carsdale saw +a crowd of eager and excited faces.</p> + +<p>Sophie stretched out an accusing finger.</p> + +<p>“That’s him!” she shouted. “I found him standing +over him with the revolver, smoking in his hand. Oh, +see if he’s really dead!”</p> + +<p>One policeman stooped and examined the dead body; +the other looked at Carsdale. And Carsdale shook his +head.</p> + +<p>“Take no notice of what that woman says,” he said. +“She knows nothing about it. I came in here a few minutes +ago, and found this man lying dead here. I was +just coming out to raise an alarm when she came in.”</p> + +<p>“There’ll be an inspector and a doctor here in a minute,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[259]</span>said the policeman. “You’d better tell the inspector. +Is he dead, Jim?”</p> + +<p>The second policeman got up and straightened himself.</p> + +<p>“Been dead half an hour, I should say,” he answered +laconically. “So I don’t think you saw any smoking +revolver,” he added grimly, turning to Sophie. “Keep +quiet, now; no row. Move away from there, ladies and +gentlemen, if you please.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale leaned against the edge of the table and waited +in silence until the inspector and the police-surgeon came +hurrying in. The policemen, having turned everybody +else out, also waited in silence, watching Carsdale. As +for Sophie Guyner, she had sunk into a chair near the +dead man, and was sobbing and moaning inarticulately. +And Carsdale, watching her, began to form an idea that +there might be matters connected with this death of Werrick +of which he as yet knew nothing.</p> + +<p>The police-surgeon said exactly what the policeman had +said—that Werrick must have been dead half an hour, +at least; the inspector, having heard, in silence, what his +men had to say, turned to Carsdale, looking him over inquiringly +and noting his appearance.</p> + +<p>“What do you know about this, sir?” he asked. “I +understand you were here when this was discovered. +You needn’t say more than you wish to say, you know.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll say all that I know, readily,” answered Carsdale. +He had been thinking everything over, and had made up +his mind to tell the whole plain truth, for his own sake. +He knew by that time that all his plans were broken in +upon, if not destroyed; he would have to reconstruct +everything, and he was not going to be incriminated, even +for Sylvie’s sake. “It’s a simple story, so far as I am +concerned.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve shot him—you know you’ve shot him!” cried +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[260]</span>Sophie, suddenly waking into vicious energy. “One of +you’ve shot him, at any rate.”</p> + +<p>“Be quiet!” said the inspector. “Now sir—what is +it?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you the plain facts,” answered Carsdale. +“This flat is tenanted by a lady who is my cousin and my +secretary—there’s my card, inspector. The lady’s name +is Mrs. Walsingham. That woman, Sophie Guyner, is her +maid. I have a key to the flat—here it is. I came here +about twenty or twenty-five minutes ago to call on my +cousin, and I let myself in. I heard nothing and saw no +one in the hall or the dining-room, so I stepped in here. +The electric light wasn’t on then. I found this body lying +where you see it—it hasn’t been touched. The man was +dead, then. I looked round the place—in the bedroom, +there, I found a revolver, of which one chamber had been +discharged—it’s in there now. I was examining it when +this woman came in and at once went off screaming murder. +That’s all I know.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know the man?” asked the inspector.</p> + +<p>“I do,” replied Carsdale promptly. “He is Sydney +Werrick, and he has been living with me at my rooms in +Jermyn Street for several days. And he is, in fact, the +husband of my cousin. She goes under the name of Mrs. +Walsingham, but she is, in fact, Mrs. Werrick.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, and she and him,” exclaimed Sophie Guyner, excitedly, +“she and him have always been against Sydney, +and I can see what it is—they’ve got him here and shot +him, and——”</p> + +<p>“Will you keep quiet, now?” said the inspector. He +stepped into the bedroom, looked around him, and came +back with the revolver. “This cousin of yours,” he +asked, turning to Carsdale, “where is she?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” replied Carsdale, firmly. “I have not +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[261]</span>seen her to-day at all. I came here, expecting to find her +in. There was no one in.”</p> + +<p>The inspector turned to Sophie.</p> + +<p>“Do you know where your mistress is?” he asked.</p> + +<p>But Sophie shook her head and again pointed viciously +at Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“Ask him!” she said loudly. “I tell you it’s all a +plant. I expect they got him here and shot him—I know +they wanted to get rid of him. She got me out of the way—she +sent me off to the theatre, and I only happened to +come back because I wasn’t well. Shot him?—of course +they’ve done it! I tell you they wanted to get rid of +him—he’s been dangerous to them ever since they ran +away from New York and left him to go to prison for +what they did. I can tell you a lot about the whole thing, +I’ll warrant you.”</p> + +<p>“That,” said the inspector dryly, “seems very evident. +However, you must tell it at the station, for you’ll have +to go round there. And you, too,” he continued, turning +to Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“You don’t mean to say that you attach any importance +to what this foolish woman says?” said Carsdale. “Surely +you must see——”</p> + +<p>“I see that we shall want to know a good deal more before +we can let either of you out of our sight,” answered +the inspector. “It’s no good arguing—you’ll have to +come along.”</p> + +<p>And so the watchers outside saw Carsdale taken off by +the police, and presently the tidings of the murder spread +out to them and to the world at large.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[262]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXXII<br> +<span class="large">SLEUTH HOUNDS</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Carsdale went to the police-station readily enough. He +knew that his policy in this unforeseen matter was to play +the straightest game possible. He could do no more for +Sylvie; she, by shooting Werrick, with whatever object, +had done for herself. Now he must look after himself, +and the only way to do it was to tell plain truth. +And he told all he knew, frankly and unreservedly, to the +authorities at the station, and to a pleasant-looking man, +who in appearance was something between a country +gentleman and a sporting publican, and whom Carsdale +quickly found to be the celebrated Detective-Inspector +Skarratt, from New Scotland Yard, famous for his skill +in unravelling mysteries, and just arrived, hot-foot, and +prepared to begin the unravelling of another.</p> + +<p>The men who listened to Carsdale’s story of how he +came to be in the flat believed it. Nevertheless, there +were questions arising out of it, and as their present proceedings +were informal, they asked them.</p> + +<p>“What about what this maid says?” asked the police-inspector +who had first come to the scene. “She referred +to some doings in New York.”</p> + +<p>Carsdale had no objection to telling all about that—he +had already reflected that it would all come out, sooner or +later, and he might just as well be first in the field with +his version.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you everything in connection with that affair,” +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[263]</span>he said. “It brings no discredit on anybody except the +dead man, Werrick. My cousin—the lady in whose flat I +found the body just now—married this man when they +were little more than boy and girl. He had some money—so +had she. They very soon got through it—extravagance, +and that sort of thing. Then they were on their +beam-ends, for they had no relations or friends who could +help them. At that time I was starting a business in New +York, and I got them over there to help me—really to +provide for them. She turned out a smart business +woman; he got mixed up with a lot of gamblers, and we +had great trouble with him. Finally the police laid hold +of him—that’s what the maid, Guyner, was referring to.”</p> + +<p>“What charge?” asked the police-inspector.</p> + +<p>“Forgery,” answered Carsdale, promptly. “He was +an expert forger—he forged my name more than once, +and I forgave him for his wife’s sake. Well, he got five +years. Just then I transferred my business to London, +and I brought my cousin back with me. I soon went into +partnership with the late Mr. Barclay Leverton, of Norfolk +Street, and my cousin became our private secretary. +Most City folk knew our firm—Leverton & Carsdale—and +know me now. After Leverton died I kept the offices on—go +down to Abbotsbury House, and you’ll find that I +have the top floor, the whole of it. My cousin, of course, +remained with me. We had heard that this man, her husband, +had been released from prison in America, and had +gone out West. Not long since we heard that he was dead—shot +in some brawl in a mining town. That turned out +to be false. One night, quite recently, I met him by accident +in the Strand. He was down on his luck, of course; +nearly broke. I took him home to my rooms in Jermyn +Street, and put him up there. I made him promise that +he wouldn’t molest his wife, and I promised him that I’d +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[264]</span>get him up again if he kept his promise to me. I gave +him a hundred pounds to fit himself out and for pocket +money, and up to now he’s behaved himself. How he +came to be in that flat, I can’t think. My impression is +that he watched the maid out, followed his wife in, and +that she shot him in mistake or self-defence—she was always +frightened about burglars, ever since there was a +burglary in a flat close by. That’s all I can guess, and all +I can tell you.”</p> + +<p>“You saw nothing of her when you entered?” asked +Skarratt, speaking for the first time.</p> + +<p>“Nothing. I haven’t seen her since last night, when +she left Norfolk Street,” replied Carsdale. “I have been +out of my office all day to-day—at least since eleven +o’clock this morning. I know she had been in then, and +gone out again. My people there can tell you about her +movements, but they won’t be there until ten o’clock to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“You’d better give me a description of her,” said the +police-inspector.</p> + +<p>Carsdale gave a full and elaborate description of Sylvie—again +he said to himself that it was no use keeping anything +back. If he didn’t describe her, somebody else +would.</p> + +<p>Skarratt waited until the description was finished. +Then, after a word or two with the inspector-in-charge, +he went out. The inspector turned to Carsdale. “I’m +afraid we shall have to detain you awhile at any rate,” +he said. “It can’t be helped.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose not,” answered Carsdale. “I quite understand.”</p> + +<p>And he resigned himself to waiting and to wondering +what really had happened in the flat before he got there, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[265]</span>and where Sylvie had fled to, and how she had got away. +His head ached with the mystery of the whole affair.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Skarratt went away to the flats, and patiently +made himself master of the details. He quickly +found out that there were two entrances to the building, +and that the porters on each had been on duty during the +whole of the evening. Within a few minutes he elicited +from them certain important facts:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<div class="hangingindent"> +<p>1. One porter, stationed at Entrance A, had seen Mrs. Walsingham +enter the building about a quarter to eight +o’clock. She was then wearing the costume which he +was shown lying on the bed in her room.</p> + +<p>2. The other porter, stationed at Entrance B, recognized the +dead man as having entered the building about twenty-five +minutes to eight. He had inquired his way to Number +29—which was the number of Mrs. Walsingham’s flat.</p> + +<p>3. This porter had seen Sophie Guyner go out through his +entrance at seven o’clock. She had then told him that +she was going to the theatre. A little after eight o’clock +she had returned, and had told him that she had such a +bad attack of headache that she had been obliged to return +home.</p> + +<p>4. Neither porter had seen Mrs. Walsingham leave the flats +during the evening. Of that they were positive. Certainly, +a large number of people were perpetually passing +in and out, but each man knew Mrs. Walsingham so +well that he was positive that she had not gone out +again after her coming in at Entrance A.</p> + +<p>5. The porter at Entrance B remembered Carsdale coming +in very well indeed, because Carsdale, as he often did, +had presented him with a cigar. That would be just +about eight o’clock.</p> + +<p>6. In one of the dead man’s pockets Skarratt found a key +which admitted to the outer door of the flat. It was +newly made, and looked as if it had never been used.</p> +</div></div> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[266]</span>Skarratt, who by that time had summoned an assistant +from New Scotland Yard, examined surface matters at the +flat quickly but thoroughly. He particularly noted the +condition of the bedroom—the revolver, of which he now +took charge; the unclosed safe, with its open drawer; the +hat and garments hastily thrown on the bed.</p> + +<p>“Where is that maid?” he asked of the police who had +remained in charge of the flat.</p> + +<p>Sophie was in the dining-room, crying—on her, too, a +policeman was keeping an eye. At his bidding she came +into the bedroom, glancing fearfully, as she passed through +the drawing-room, at Werrick’s body, which had now been +laid out on a sofa and covered with a sheet in readiness +for removal to the mortuary. She looked at Inspector +Skarratt’s friendly and good-humoured face with a queer +mixture of shrewdness and suspicion and defiance.</p> + +<p>“Now, my dear,” said Skarratt, “I want a little help +from you. As you’re Mrs. Walsingham’s maid, you, of +course, know all her gowns and dresses?”</p> + +<p>“Every one,” answered Sophie. “Every stitch she +has!”</p> + +<p>“Then just look round here and tell me which costume, +or gown, or dress, or whatever she wears for going out, is +missing,” said Skarratt. “Be particular—don’t forget +anything.”</p> + +<p>Sophie entered on this task with zest, she opened wardrobes, +she threw back the doors of cupboards, she examined +drawers and trunks. And finally she turned to Skarratt +with undisguised amazement.</p> + +<p>“There’s nothing missing!” she exclaimed. “There’s +every gown that she has, here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come, come!” said Skarratt. “That can’t be. +You’ve forgotten something. She can’t have left the flat +without some gown or other, you know.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[267]</span>“I don’t know what she’s gone in, then,” said Sophie. +“I know every stitch she has, I tell you, and here’s everything +here. There’s the coat and skirt and hat she had +on this morning,” she continued, pointing to the bed, “and +you can see for yourself that she’s taken them off in a +hurry and thrown them there.”</p> + +<p>“I can see it, and I want to know what she put on in +their place,” answered Skarratt. “Come now—there’s +a pretty big wardrobe here, you know—twenty-five different +gowns, at least. Don’t you think you’ve forgotten +one?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve forgotten nothing,” said Sophie, doggedly. “I +know every gown she has.”</p> + +<p>“Well, has she gone out in anything of your own, then?” +suggested Skarratt. “Go and see if you miss anything.”</p> + +<p>Sophie went off, still police-attended, but suddenly returned +excited and glowing.</p> + +<p>“I know!” she exclaimed. “I’ve just remembered. +She’d a complete nun’s dress—a Sister of Mercy’s, you +know—all black, with white hood, and all that—that she +went to a fancy-dress ball in once, with Carsdale. She’ll +have gone in that. That’s it!”</p> + +<p>“Probably,” said Skarratt. He took down such details +as Sophie could remember, and then, with his assistants, +went off to see the two porters. The man at Entrance A +had no recollection of seeing any woman dressed as a nun +or a Sister of Mercy enter or leave, the man at Entrance +B had a dim notion that such a figure did either go in or +out during the evening. But both men pointed out that +it was no uncommon thing at all for nuns and Sisters of +Mercy to visit the flats—some had relations or friends +there; some came in cases of sickness; some came begging +for charity. And both men reminded him that they had +come on duty at seven o’clock—they could not say who +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[268]</span>had gone in before that, and they were not very clear as +to particular persons who had left or entered after. But +each agreed that Mrs. Walsingham in her own clothes was +always noticeable. “She was a stylish dresser you see,” +added one.</p> + +<p>Skarratt sent his man off with some instructions. If +Mrs. Walsingham had escaped in the disguise of a nun, they +would have to keep a wide look-out, and they must especially +watch the railway stations and the docks. But they +had a clue now, and a good one.</p> + +<p>He was turning away from the entrance at which he +had been talking to one of the porters, when he heard his +name called, and turning, saw Miss Norshaw, the principal +of the private detective agency which Frances Leverton +had employed. Skarratt had more than once been brought +into touch with this lady, and he immediately joined her, +guessing that she had something to tell him. They walked +away down the street.</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard something of this case, Mr. Skarratt,” said +Miss Norshaw. “And I’ve some information that may +be useful to you. You’re detaining a man named Carsdale, +aren’t you! Yes—well, we’ve had that man under observation +for the last two days on the instructions of a client +of ours, and I have a strong suspicion, from to-day’s reports, +that he was going to leave the country to-night. +Now, you’ve done me a good turn more than once, and I’ll +do you one—I’ll just run over Carsdale’s movements to-day, +briefly.”</p> + +<p>Skarratt listened eagerly to all that Miss Norshaw had +to tell him. When she had finished, he jumped into a +taxi-cab and went down to Long Acre to the motor-garage +where Carsdale had been seen to leave his portmanteaux. +He was not long in there, and when he came out he drove +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[269]</span>back to the police-station and had a talk to the inspector-in-charge. +And presently they went in to see Carsdale.</p> + +<p>“Now, Mr. Carsdale,” said Skarratt, in the cheery and +breezy manner which characterized him in his professional +dealings, “I’m afraid you’re in a very unpleasant position. +I’m not going to charge you with anything just now, but +I’m afraid I may have to, later on. In the meantime, will +you turn out whatever you have on you in the way of +papers, documents, money? It will be best for you if you +do, and if you don’t—well, you don’t want to be searched, +anyway.”</p> + +<p>And Carsdale once more determined to resign himself +to the straight course, believing that he could give a good +and plausible reason for the presence of the things he +would have to show. And so it came about that the two +officers were presently examining certain matters which +represented two hundred thousand pounds and were noting +that Carsdale carried two first-class tickets for Buenos +Aires by the steamer which was to leave Southampton next +morning.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[270]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXXIII<br> +<span class="large">SANCTUARY</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>For once in a way the newspaper men had got a murder +case in which there was very little mystery. Carsdale had +spoken the truth so freely, Sophie Guyner had treated +everybody to her mind on the matter with such abandon, +that there was opportunity for the writing of columns of +plain narrative. And, departing from their usual modes +of procedure, the police had kept nothing back, had, rather, +given the reporters every information they could and +every facility for obtaining more. This was on Inspector +Skarratt’s initiative—it had readily occurred to him that +no good could be done by concealment, for the one thing +that was important was to find the lady who called herself +Mrs. Walsingham, and was in reality Mrs. Sylvie Werrick. +Therefore, argued Skarratt, use the press as a medium; +circulate the whole story as widely and as circumstantially +as possible; everybody, from idlers to errand boys, will +then be on the outlook for a woman in a nun’s dress, and +it will be a wonder if an arrest does not speedily follow. +The newspaper men blessed Skarratt, and every paper +came out with as much stuff about the Bloomsbury +Mystery as ever perspiring sub-editors and worried foremen +could cram into it.</p> + +<p>Richard Shrewsbury, breakfasting with Burgoyne in a +private room at the <i>Charing Cross Hotel</i>, read the first +news before his friend came in; Burgoyne, when he entered, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[271]</span>found him trembling with excitement. He thrust +the paper into Burgoyne’s hands.</p> + +<p>“She—she was married!” he cried. “Married, all the +time! And—they say she’s shot her husband. Look!”</p> + +<p>“What are you raving about?” asked Burgoyne, taking +the paper and seeing the headlines. “Steady, man!”</p> + +<p>“Steady enough,” retorted Richard. “I’m talking +about—Sylvie. See there—she was married to a fellow +named Werrick—and they say she’s shot him—murdered +him. Good God!—what a lot seems to be happening! +I’m going out to get some more papers—there may be +something with later news. Read it—read it all!”</p> + +<p>Burgoyne sat down and read steadily. The newspaper +which Richard had thrust upon him had favoured its +readers with a résumé of the matter, and had printed it in +large type; within a few minutes, therefore, Burgoyne was +in full possession of the outstanding facts.</p> + +<p>This is what he read:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>A tragedy, which still has certain elements of mystery about +it, occurred about eight o’clock last evening at a flat in Marengo +Mansions, Bloomsbury.</p> + +<p>The flat, Number 29, has for some time—nearly three years, +it is understood—been tenanted by a lady known as Mrs. Walsingham, +who lived there with a maid named Sophie Guyner. +Mrs. Walsingham, who appears to have been comfortably off, +judging from the appearance of her rooms and from her general +style of living, was engaged in financial work, and had for +some time acted as secretary to the firm of Leverton & Carsdale, +general agents, of Abbotsbury House, Norfolk Street, Strand. +The senior partner died recently, and the business was then +carried on by Mr. John Carsdale, Mrs. Walsingham retaining her +secretaryship.</p> + +<p>Yesterday afternoon, Mrs. Walsingham telephoned to her +maid, Sophie Guyner, from the City, saying that she was sending +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[272]</span>her two tickets for the Hyperion Theatre for last night, and +that she herself should not be home until very late. The tickets +duly arrived by the hands of Griffkin, the office-boy at Mr. Carsdale’s +offices, and Guyner proceeded to the theatre with a friend. +She—Guyner—was not feeling very well, however, and almost as +soon as the performance began, she was obliged to leave the +theatre and to go home.</p> + +<p>Upon entering the flat, Guyner was horrified to find the body +of a man lying across the threshold of her mistress’s bedroom, +apparently dead. On the other side of it, and in the bedroom, +she saw Mr. John Carsdale, holding a revolver in his hand, which, +Guyner alleges, was still smoking. [This latter fact the police +do not credit for a moment, as it has been abundantly proved +that at the time of Guyner’s entrance the man had been dead +quite half an hour, and only one chamber of the revolver had +been discharged.]</p> + +<p>Guyner immediately raised an alarm, and some of the porters +of the building, together with the police, were quickly on +the scene. It was then found that the man had been shot through +the heart, and that death must have been instantaneous. To the +police, Mr. John Carsdale at once gave a full and unreserved +account of his presence at the flat. He explained that Mrs. Walsingham +was his cousin, and that she was really the wife of +the man whose body lay before them, and whose name was +Sydney Werrick. According to Mr. Carsdale, Werrick had +been convicted of forgery in New York and sent to prison there; +since his release he had lived in America. Recently he had +turned up in London, and had been befriended by Mr. Carsdale +on the condition that he should not molest his wife.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carsdale’s theory is that Werrick by some means obtained +an entrance to the flat yesterday evening when Mrs. Walsingham +(Werrick) was alone, and that she shot him in +self-defence or on the spur of the moment. There had recently +been a burglary at Marengo Mansions, and she had been very +much alarmed about it, and Mr. Carsdale had brought her the +revolver with which Werrick undoubtedly had been shot.</p> + +<p>Mr. Carsdale says that he entered the flat—to which he had +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[273]</span>a private key—a little after eight o’clock last night, and that +there was no living person in it. He at once discovered the +body of the dead man, and he had just picked up the revolver, +and was examining it, when the maid, Sophie Guyner, returned.</p> + +<p>An examination of the flat and of Mrs. Walsingham’s +(Werrick’s) belongings show that she must have gone away from +Marengo Mansions wearing the dress of a nun, a full description +of which will be found below. Up to a late hour last night, +no trace of her had been met with. It is believed that she will +endeavour to escape to the Continent, and the cross-Channel +boats will be closely watched at the various ports this morning, +as also will all railway stations.</p> + +<p>In consequence of certain facts not yet made public, Mr. John +Carsdale has been detained by the police authorities.</p> +</div> + +<p>Burgoyne had just finished reading this condensed narrative, +when Richard burst into the room with an armful +of newspapers.</p> + +<p>“Have you read that?” he demanded, excitedly. +“Have you read it? Have you ever read anything like it? +To trick me like that!—And Carsdale knew all the time!”</p> + +<p>“Keep cool, Dick,” said Burgoyne. “It’s no use getting +excited—we shall want all our wits. There’s one thing +I can see very plainly already.”</p> + +<p>“What?” demanded Richard, who was feverishly turning +over his bundle of papers. “What?”</p> + +<p>“That my diamond necklace has probably vanished +with the woman,” answered Burgoyne grimly. “She +wouldn’t be very likely to leave that behind her. And +whether she meant to shoot her husband or not, I should +say that as she knew he was in London she was probably +preparing for flight. I suppose she hadn’t any property of +yours, Dick, beyond what you’d given her?”</p> + +<p>“No,” answered Richard. “Except that I gave her a +blank cheque the other day which she was to fill up.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[274]</span>Burgoyne whistled.</p> + +<p>“By Jove!” he said. “Well, you can soon find out +what’s happened to that by telephoning to the bank as soon +as it’s open. Of course, if Carsdale knew that the husband +was in town, he would tell her. I should say she meant +to be off. And in that case, she would feather her nest. +I dare say the man tried to stop her. Then she shot him, +and——”</p> + +<p>Richard suddenly uttered a sharp exclamation.</p> + +<p>“Listen!” he said. “Here’s some more in a late morning +edition. It’s about Carsdale.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>“We understand that, in consequence of certain information +supplied to them last night, the police have formally arrested +the Norfolk Street financial agent, John Carsdale, on a charge of +being concerned in the death of Sydney Werrick at Mrs. Walsingham’s +or Werrick’s flat in Marengo Mansions, Bloomsbury.</p> + +<p>“It is said that upon Carsdale there were found certain securities +valued at two hundred thousand pounds, and that he +was also in possession of two first-class tickets for passage to +Buenos Aires, available by the Royal Mail Steam Packet Company’s +steamer which leaves Southampton this morning. It appears +that Carsdale had chartered a motor-car from a well-known +firm in Long Acre, and had ordered it to be in readiness +for him at a certain hour last night, and the theory of the +police now is that he and Mrs. Walsingham intended to leave +the country in this way; that he went to her flat to fetch her, +and that Werrick interrupted their final preparations, with the +fatal result now known. It should, however, be pointed out in +relation to this, that there seems no reason why Carsdale should +not have escaped as readily as Mrs. Walsingham, or Werrick, +did, and that the police-surgeon who was on the spot within a +few minutes of Carsdale’s being found in the flat is positive +that Werrick had then been dead half an hour.</p> + +<p>“According to our information, the securities found upon +Carsdale are probably the property of a young gentleman of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[275]</span>fortune, for whom he seems to have recently acted as financial +agent, and who is, we learn, at present travelling on the Continent.</p> + +<p>“Up to the hour of going to press, no news had been heard of +Mrs. Walsingham, for whom a strict look-out is being kept at +all railway stations and ports.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“Dick,” said Burgoyne. “You must be down at your +bankers as soon as ever their doors open. That’ll be nine +o’clock. Come, let’s breakfast, and then to business. We +are back on the very nick of time.”</p> + +<p>“You think that Carsdale’s robbed me?” said Richard +quietly.</p> + +<p>“What does it look like?” asked Burgoyne. “You +must make sure. I’ll drive down with you.”</p> + +<p>They were in the City before the clocks began to +chime nine, and within the bank before the chimes had +finished. The manager seemed in no wise surprised to see +Richard; he had read the papers on his way from home. +He began to answer Richard’s question before it was completely +voiced.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Carsdale was here yesterday, Mr. Shrewsbury,” +he answered. “He saw the two principals. He produced +to them a written order from you authorizing them to deliver +up whatever securities of yours we held. He selected +two hundred thousand pounds’ worth. I was present. +He said that he was going to re-invest on your behalf. +Of course, he gave a receipt. Wasn’t your order a +genuine one? The signature looked all right.”</p> + +<p>“I signed some papers the other day without knowing +what I signed,” replied Richard, bitterly. “I trusted +him fully, as you know.”</p> + +<p>The manager looked at Burgoyne, and shook his head. +He turned to Richard again.</p> + +<p>“There’s another matter I may mention,” he said. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[276]</span>“The—er—lady who figures in these newspaper reports +this morning cashed a cheque of yours here yesterday +afternoon, not so very long after Carsdale had been here. +It was for fifteen thousand pounds. Was that in order?”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” answered Richard. He took an unceremonious +leave, and went out. Burgoyne followed +him.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Dick,” he said. “Let’s go down to Blair—he’ll +advise. Come along!”</p> + +<p>“No!” replied Richard. “I’m going home—there’s +something I want to look into. You go to Blair, if you +like.”</p> + +<p>“Then I shall bring him along to Berkeley Square,” +said Burgoyne. “We want advice, I tell you.”</p> + +<p>Richard nodded, and got into a taxi-cab. He drove +West in a whirl of thoughts and emotions; his world +seemed to have been turned upside down. At that moment +he forgot even Burgoyne’s devotion.</p> + +<p>Kedgin met him at his own door. And Kedgin, usually +the most self-possessed of men, heaved a great sigh of relief +when he saw his master.</p> + +<p>“Oh, sir!” he exclaimed. “I’m—I’m thankful you’ve +come home, sir!—I haven’t known what to do—I daren’t +telephone to Paris. Sir—Mrs. Walsingham’s here—she’s +been here since last night!”</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[277]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXXIV<br> +<span class="large">KNIGHT-ERRANT</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Of all the eventualities which might spring out of +the affair which was just then monopolizing all his thought, +this was the last of which Richard would ever have +dreamed. He stood in the hall of the flat staring at Kedgin +as if the man had given him unbelievable news. It +was only with difficulty that he brought his mind round to +an accurate comprehension of what Kedgin meant.</p> + +<p>“Here?” he said at last. “Here?”</p> + +<p>Kedgin coughed behind an uplifted and trembling hand.</p> + +<p>“Yes-es, sir—here,” he answered. “In the—the smaller +bedroom, sir. I—I haven’t seen the lady this morning. +But—I know she’s there, sir.”</p> + +<p>Richard continued to stare at his servant. He was not +looking at Kedgin, however—he was seeing probabilities +and possibilities.</p> + +<p>“If—if you would kindly step inside, sir,” suggested +Kedgin, diffidently, “I would tell you all about it, sir. +The fact is, sir, I am thoroughly upset—especially since +I read the newspapers this morning, sir, which I dare say +you have seen?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve seen them,” answered Richard. He walked into +the dining-room, motioning Kedgin to follow him. “Tell +me all about it,” he said. “Sit down, man—and help +yourself to a drop of brandy first—why, you’re trembling +like a leaf! Here—I’ll give you some.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[278]</span>“I’m very sorry, sir—it’s weak of me, no doubt,” +said Kedgin, taking the glass which Richard handed him, +“but I’ve been that frightened. You see, sir, I didn’t +know what to do—and I couldn’t help thinking that—that +Mrs. Walsingham, sir, had gone—mad, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Mad?” exclaimed Richard. “Why?”</p> + +<p>“General behaviour, sir,” replied Kedgin. He sipped +at the brandy, and shook his head. “I never got a wink +of sleep all night, sir,” he continued. “You see, sir, my +wife is away just now, as perhaps you remember, so I’d +nobody to talk to about—about this. And then, when I +got the newspapers this morning, of course, I was worse +alarmed than ever. It gave me quite a shock, sir, when +I heard your key in the latch.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m here, now,” said Richard. “Tell me how +Mrs. Walsingham came here. When was it?”</p> + +<p>“It was last night, sir,” answered Kedgin. “It must +have been about ten o’clock. It was dark, anyhow. As +I said, my wife is away, so I was getting a bit of supper +alone. Most of the doors were open—I’d left them open +because it was a close night and I wanted to air the rooms. +I heard a latch-key in the outer door; then I heard somebody +come in, very light of foot, sir. I knew it wasn’t +either you or the Captain, sir, because of that. Whoever +it was, walked into the drawing-room, and, of course, I +followed. And you could have knocked me down, sir, +when I saw a nun standing there—all black, sir—it gave +me a real turn!”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“Then, sir, it spoke,” continued Kedgin, “and I recognized +Mrs. Walsingham’s voice. ‘Well, Kedgin,’ she says, +‘did you think I was a ghost?’ ‘Well, ma’am,’ I says, +‘you gave me a fright.’ ‘Then you can give me a brandy-and-soda, +Kedgin,’ she says. ‘That’ll be a fair exchange,’ +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[279]</span>and she laughed in a very queer way, sir. ‘It’ll look odd +to see a nun drinking brandy-and-soda,’ she says; ‘but +never mind—there’s nobody but you to see, Kedgin.’ ‘No, +ma’am,’ I says, and I went to get her what she wanted; +but first, I turned the light on. And then I was more +frightened than ever, sir, for she was nearly as white as +the white thing about her face, and her eyes glowed like +coals, and she smiled at me—it makes me queer to think +of it, sir!”</p> + +<p>“Then don’t think of it. Go on with your story,” said +Richard.</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, I got her what she wanted,” said Kedgin, +“and she sat down there and drank it, but she didn’t say +anything for some time, though I waited about wondering +what she was after. And at last she says—‘Kedgin,’ she +says, ‘Mr. Shrewsbury and Mr. Burgoyne are in Paris, +aren’t they?’ she says. ‘They are, Mrs. Walsingham,’ I +says. ‘Then,’ says she, ‘I’m going to stay here all night. +It’s no use talking to me about it,’ she says, ‘nor asking +me any questions about it,’ she says. ‘I’m dead tired +out,’ she says, ‘and I’m going to have the small room.’ +And she walked straight over to it, sir, and opened the +door, and looked in, and then she looked back at me and +put her hand in her bag, and brought out something and +threw it on the table. ‘I don’t know whether your wife +is in or not, Kedgin,’ she says, ‘but if she is, there’s something +for both of you. Only hold your tongues until +morning, and don’t disturb me for—anything,’ she says, +giving me a queer look. ‘I’m dead beat,’ she says. And +with that, sir, she went into that room, and locked the +door, and out of it she hasn’t been since. And, of course, +sir,” concluded Kedgin, looking fearfully at the closed +door, “of course, I read the newspaper this morning, and +then I knew what had happened.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[280]</span>“You’ve not seen nor heard of her since she went in +there?” asked Richard.</p> + +<p>“Neither sight nor sound, sir,” replied Kedgin. “I +was getting uncommonly afraid when you came. You—you +don’t think she’s—made away with herself, sir, do +you?”</p> + +<p>Richard started at the suggestion. After all, it was +possible. In spite of the deception which she had practised +on him, he believed that he knew something of Sylvie, +and he thought her not unlikely, if forced into a tight corner, +to end everything by ending her own life.</p> + +<p>“I hope not, Kedgin!” he said anxiously. “You say +you’ve heard nothing of her this morning?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, sir. I’ve been in and out since—oh, since a +very early hour, and I’ve heard not a sound,” answered +Kedgin. “I thought, sir, as how she might have taken +some of those sleeping things—there’s a good many ladies +does, nowadays.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, nobody knows that she’s here?” said +Richard.</p> + +<p>“So far as I know, sir,” replied Kedgin. “It was +dark when she came. She may have slipped in unobserved. +I’ve been down to the door twice this morning, +and the porter hasn’t mentioned it. About the time she +came in he goes off to get his supper, as a rule, so he probably +wasn’t there, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we’ll wait a little,” said Richard. Then he remembered +that Burgoyne had spoken of bringing Blair +to the flat. “They mustn’t come at present,” he thought, +and he went to the telephone and rang Blair up. Burgoyne, +he found, had just arrived at Blair’s rooms—he +invented an excuse for putting them off coming round to +Berkeley Square and made an appointment to meet them +at lunch later on. And this done, he went back to Kedgin, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[281]</span>and incidentally looking at his watch, saw that it +was ten o’clock.</p> + +<p>“I’ll knock at the door, Kedgin,” he said. “I don’t +like to think there’s anything wrong, but surely she can’t +be sleeping—at least, naturally—all this time.”</p> + +<p>There was no response to Richard’s first summons, and +a second and louder knock also produced no answer. And +then, just as Richard was beginning to be seriously concerned, +and Kedgin was hinting at the probable necessity +of breaking into the room, the door suddenly opened and +Mrs. Walsingham confronted them.</p> + +<p>She was still in the nun’s garments in which she had +escaped from her flat, and their sombre hue made her +white face look all the whiter. But Richard drew back +from her not so much in surprise at her white face as at +the change which had come over her since he had last seen +her. She seemed to have been suddenly transformed into +a worn and haggard woman of uncertain age. There was +no colour in her cheeks now; the sparkle had gone out of +her eyes; her lips were almost bloodless; about her mouth +were heavy wrinkles. She seemed altogether transformed, +and, as he gazed at her, Richard found himself wondering +that a human being could be so suddenly changed.</p> + +<p>For a moment the three stared at each other in a painful +silence; then the woman pointed to Kedgin.</p> + +<p>“Go away,” she said. “I want to speak to your master.”</p> + +<p>Kedgin, at a nod from Richard, went out, and Mrs. Walsingham +came into the dining-room and sat down, with a +weary gesture. She looked at Richard out of dull eyes; +never had he seen her so apathetic, so listless, before. +And when she spoke he was astonished at the altered tone +of her voice—she spoke as if she had no energy left in +her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[282]</span>“I had a sort of notion that it might be you,” she said, +gazing at him as she might have gazed at some inanimate +object. “I suppose you were surprised to hear that I +was in the place. But I’d nowhere to go—I couldn’t get +out of London last night. Perhaps I shan’t be able to +get out this morning. I don’t know what may be known. +And I’m forgetting—I don’t know whether you know +anything.”</p> + +<p>There was a copy of a morning newspaper lying on the +table by which she was sitting, and Richard silently pointed +her to it. She drew it towards her and looked at the big +letters which ran across the top of half a page. Even +then her listlessness and apathy never seemed to leave +her; she read without seeming interest, and Richard, +watching her narrowly, looked in vain for any sign of +excitement or fear or, indeed, of any emotion.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said presently, as if in comment on what +she read, “but Carsdale hadn’t anything to do with it. +I didn’t know Carsdale was coming. I expect you’ve +read all that?—it seems to have been found out very +soon,” she continued, turning to Richard.</p> + +<p>“I have read it,” he answered.</p> + +<p>“It’s quite true I shot Werrick,” she said. “I shot +him on the spur of the moment—I fired at him as soon as +I saw his face. Well—and I don’t wonder that I did. +Last night I felt keen about getting away—I thought I +could from here. But this morning I feel—I don’t know. +I suppose I had better give myself up. I’m beaten. I’m +tired. I had to take a sleeping-draught last night. Perhaps +it hasn’t worn off. Will you give me some tea?”</p> + +<p>Richard hastily gave Kedgin an order and went back to +the dining-room. She was bending over the newspaper +again—it was that in which he had seen the later news of +the discovery of the securities and the tickets for Buenos +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[283]</span>Aires on Carsdale. She looked up, tapping the paragraph.</p> + +<p>“What’s this mean?” she said. “I don’t know anything +about that. Carsdale must have been on his way +to ask me to go with him. What a muddle! But I didn’t +know. Two hundred thousand! That would be your +money. I’ve got a lot of that, too. Never mind—you’ll +get it back, because I don’t think I shall get away, now.”</p> + +<p>“What are you going to do—what am I to do for you?” +asked Richard. “We must do something. Tell me—what +were you going to do?”</p> + +<p>She looked at him out of dull eyes for a few seconds as +if she did not comprehend his question. He repeated it.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she answered suddenly. “I was going to +Vienna. Now I remember. I made arrangements about +transferring money to Vienna at the Anglo-Austrian Bank. +Yes—Vienna. I should have got on there.”</p> + +<p>Kedgin came in with the tea. She glanced at him +sharply.</p> + +<p>“Give me some brandy in it,” she said.</p> + +<p>Richard moved uneasily, but Kedgin, with a meaning +glance at his master, poured a liberal dose of brandy into +the cup before he handed it to her. And at the first sip +Richard saw her eyes brighten and more intelligence come +into her face. She looked at him with a strange, doubtful +glance.</p> + +<p>“You see, I hadn’t anywhere to turn to but—this,” she +said. “I knew I should be safe here for the night—I +managed to slip in unobserved. I—I suppose I shall have +to give myself up now, though.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I knew what to do!” groaned Richard. “Can’t—can’t +we think of some way of getting you out of the +country?”</p> + +<p>She looked down at her clinging garments.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[284]</span>“What—in these?” she said. “Not very likely.”</p> + +<p>“But—in some other way?” he suggested. “Come—think!”</p> + +<p>She looked at him dully, and shook her head.</p> + +<p>“I can’t,” she said. “I’m tired out. You don’t understand—nobody +could understand. It’s the—the strain. +I feel as if I didn’t want anything but—to sleep.”</p> + +<p>Then she suddenly drank off the tea and, with another +strange look at Richard, went into the room in which she +had passed the night. And Richard sorely disturbed and +perplexed, sought Kedgin. For something would have to +be done, some help sought. Neither Burgoyne nor Blair, +seemed to be the right sort of persons to turn to.</p> + +<p>Richard, turning things over in his mind, received an +inspiration. Bidding Kedgin to keep strict guard over +the flat and its inmate, he hurried out, hailed a passing +taxi-cab, and drove off to Maida Vale to seek the help of +Frances Leverton.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[285]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXXV<br> +<span class="large">FOR SYLVIE’S SAKE</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Richard went off to Maida Vale with no very clear or +precise idea of what it was that he wanted Frances Leverton +to do for him—all that he was really conscious of +was that he had a vague desire to save the woman who had +taken refuge under his roof and that it was necessary to +have another woman’s help. He was too much agitated +at the moment to recollect that Frances Leverton had no +love for Mrs. Walsingham: all that he remembered was +that he knew no other woman in London to whom he could +turn; he therefore set off to the one he did know with a +certain blind confidence. All the chivalry in his nature +had been aroused by the sight of Sylvie’s distress, and it +seemed to him that Frances, being a woman, must share +it. He fully believed Sylvie’s story that the shooting of +Werrick had been unintentional, and, if he could compass +it, he meant to save her.</p> + +<p>Frances, at the moment when Richard Shrewsbury was +announced, was discussing the matter with Lizzie Bryce. +The report of the detective agency with respect to the doings +of Carsdale on the previous day lay on her desk; numerous +newspapers, giving more or less complete circumstantial +accounts of the affair at Marengo Mansions, were +scattered about the room. And Frances knew that probably +nothing but the shooting of Sydney Werrick had prevented +the flight of both Carsdale and Sylvie Walsingham +with the greater bulk of Richard’s money. She was pondering +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[286]</span>over this fact when her maid came in to announce +that Mr. Shrewsbury was there and begged to see her.</p> + +<p>Frances looked round at Lizzie Bryce in sheer wonder +and dismay. She believed Richard to be in Paris, and +she was sure that his coming to her implied some extraordinary +turn of events. And Lizzie Bryce recognized the +situation and prepared to quit the room. Before Frances +had recovered her wits, Lizzie had spoken.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go, Frank,” she said. “Mr. Shrewsbury will +want to see you on business.”</p> + +<p>“No—don’t,” exclaimed Frances. “I—I haven’t any +business with him.” Then, remembering that the maid +was still waiting, she looked uncertainly at Lizzie and said, +“I don’t know what to do!”</p> + +<p>“You will see him, of course,” said Lizzie. “You may +be sure it is important business. Tell Jane to bring him +in at once.”</p> + +<p>Frances made a sign to the girl, and Lizzie Bryce disappeared +into an inner room. And Richard, entering hurriedly, +found Miss Leverton, seated at her desk, turning +over papers and letters with an energy which a closer observer +than the visitor would have quickly seen to be assumed. +She looked up; even then Richard was too much +preoccupied with his business to notice her heightened +colour. He hurried towards her desk; Frances tried to +look at him with professional coolness.</p> + +<p>“Miss Leverton,” he began, without preface or greeting. +“I——” But there he stopped, looking anxiously +around him.</p> + +<p>“Good morning,” said Frances. “What can I do for +you, Mr. Shrewsbury?”</p> + +<p>She was anxious that he should feel that she looked +upon his call as a purely business one, and the assumed +frigidity of her tone struck a chill to him. He began to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[287]</span>wonder what she would say when she heard what he +wanted her to do.</p> + +<p>“I wanted to speak to you,” he said, feebly. “I suppose +we are alone.”</p> + +<p>“I see no one else in the room,” said Frances, half-satirically. +“What is it, Mr. Shrewsbury?”</p> + +<p>“You must pardon me if I seem flustered, or—or queer, +you know,” he said. “I only got in from Paris at half-past +five this morning, and I’ve been rushing about ever +since.”</p> + +<p>“Then you’d better sit down,” she said, pointing to a +chair.</p> + +<p>“Thank you,” said Richard, dropping into the nearest +chair with a profound sigh. “The fact is—I’ve hurried +to you because I want some help, and—I thought of you +first.”</p> + +<p>Frances affected great interest in her letters.</p> + +<p>“Would not Captain Burgoyne—or Captain Blair—be +more likely?” she suggested.</p> + +<p>“No!” replied Richard. “I—I want a woman’s help. +Look here—I’m going to be frank with you, because—well, +because I believe in you. I’ll try to be as plain as possible, +though I’m an awful hand at explaining things. +You see, I feel in a muddle, because it’s only just now +that I’m beginning to learn the truth. I see that you’ve +read the newspapers, so you know what happened at—at +Marengo Mansions last night?”</p> + +<p>“I know,” answered Frances.</p> + +<p>“Of course, I hadn’t a notion of—anything,” said +Richard. “It seems, however, that Burgoyne and Blair +had found out a lot, and Burgoyne got me over to Paris +to tell me all about it. And—then, I insisted on coming +back, and we travelled all night, and we went into the +<i>Charing Cross Hotel</i> on arrival, and very soon we saw +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[288]</span>the morning papers, and read—all that. And about Carsdale, +too. And then I drove to my bank, and had that +confirmed. Then Burgoyne went to Blair, and I went +home to Berkeley Square. And—I know you will wonder +what it is that I am explaining to you, but I wanted +to make everything quite clear—there, at home, I +found——”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Walsingham,” said Frances, quietly and suddenly.</p> + +<p>Richard started.</p> + +<p>“How—how did you know that?” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know it—I guessed it,” she said. “I suddenly +realized what you were leading up to. Am I +right?”</p> + +<p>“You are quite right,” he answered quietly. “I found +her there. It appears that she came there after dark last +night, and Kedgin admitted her, and she took possession +of a room. Yes—she is there. I have seen her.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Frances, with well-assumed indifference. +“And what then?”</p> + +<p>Richard leaned forward and looked at her gravely.</p> + +<p>“You know how I have been deceived,” he said. “I—I +don’t understand it all, but I suppose I have been a great +fool ever since I came to England. But I don’t bear her +any grudge, you know, or ill-will, and I don’t like to see +a woman hunted. She told me this morning that she shot +that man unintentionally, and though she’s lied to me so +much, I believe she told me the plain, real truth about this +affair. And, if I can, I want to get her away—to help +her to escape.”</p> + +<p>“And why have you come to me?” asked Frances, looking +steadily at him.</p> + +<p>“Because I want you to help me,” he replied. “You’re +clever—you can think of things, of ways of doing it. I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[289]</span>couldn’t take her off in that nun’s dress she’s wearing—I +thought you could suggest something in the way of disguise—that +I could get her away in to-night, don’t you +know.”</p> + +<p>Frances laughed—intentionally. She wanted to know +what Richard Shrewsbury was really thinking.</p> + +<p>“That seems a very cool and calm request,” she said. +“I think you forget that, in the first place, you are asking +me to commit a crime, and, in the second, that Mrs. +Walsingham and I are—enemies. Why should I do this +for a woman who has injured me more than once?”</p> + +<p>Richard looked at her for a moment. Then his face +changed, and he slowly rose from his chair.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry,” he said. “I thought——” But then +he stopped and began to move towards the door. “At +any rate you’ll forgive me for bothering you about the +matter.”</p> + +<p>With his hand on the door, he suddenly heard Frances’ +voice.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Shrewsbury!” she said.</p> + +<p>Richard turned quickly.</p> + +<p>“Yes?” he answered.</p> + +<p>“Is it really because you only pity this woman that +you want to help her?” she asked.</p> + +<p>Richard stared.</p> + +<p>“It is certainly for nothing else,” he replied. “I’m +sorry for her—as I would be for anybody placed as she is.”</p> + +<p>Frances bent over her letters.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say I wouldn’t help you,” she said in low +tones. “But—do you realize what it means? You know +that the police are scouring London for her, that all the +railway stations and seaports are being watched, and that +there is very little chance of her getting away. And to +aid and abet her in it—well, whoever does that, and is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[290]</span>detected, will run great risks. If I help you, we’re both +liable to punishment, and all our professions of pity for +her won’t palliate our offences.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want you to run any risk,” said Richard +quickly. “That mustn’t be! What I wanted you to do +was to help me about getting her some other clothing, or +some disguise, or——”</p> + +<p>At that moment the maid entered and glanced at her +mistress. “Captain Blair,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Show Captain Blair into the breakfast-room for a +moment,” said Frances. She turned to Richard when +they were alone again. “Mr. Shrewsbury,” she continued +earnestly, “do take some good advice from me. Tell this +to Captain Blair. He will respect your confidence, and +he will know what ought to be done. Indeed, you +don’t know what a serious matter this is—don’t be rash +about it. And don’t think that I was unsympathetic with +you, just now,” she added hurriedly. “I think it’s very +good of you to feel like that about it, but—do tell Captain +Blair.”</p> + +<p>Richard looked at her steadily.</p> + +<p>“Since you say so,” he said, “I’ll tell him. I’m surprised +he’s here—I thought he was with Burgoyne. Yes—I’ll +tell him.”</p> + +<p>Blair, coming in, explained that Burgoyne had been +with him, but had left soon after getting Richard’s +telephone message, and that he himself had been about to +call on Richard after seeing Miss Leverton.</p> + +<p>“And Shrewsbury may as well know that I wanted to +see you about Carsdale, Miss Leverton,” he said, “and +I think you’ll have to tell him what you know and have +taken trouble to find out.”</p> + +<p>Frances looked a little annoyed and a good deal disturbed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[291]</span>“Time enough for that, Captain Blair,” she said. “I +think Mr. Carsdale is safe enough at present. Mr. Shrewsbury +has something to tell you which he has just been +telling me.”</p> + +<p>And Richard told Blair everything of what he had +discovered at the flat and of what he wished to do. But +Blair, having listened quietly and attentively, shook his +head.</p> + +<p>“My dear boy,” he said, “that’s very good and disinterested +of you, and all that sort of thing, but you can’t +do it. Supposing you dress this unfortunate woman in +anything Miss Leverton procures for you, how are you +going to get her away? Drive her in your own motor to +some quiet seaport? That would never do—the descriptions +are everywhere, and the quieter the place the more +likely that detection would follow. Do what you may, the +fact that you were engaged to be married to her will come +out—has, of course, come out to the police by now, through +the maid, Sophie Guyner—and you will see that you will +be interviewed and questioned and probably watched. I +don’t think you’d get her out of London without being +stopped.”</p> + +<p>“Then what am I to do?” asked Richard. “Whatever +she may have been or have done, she turned to me for +shelter and help. Am I to open my door, and turn her +out to the police, or turn them in upon her? Those things +don’t appeal to me, either of them!”</p> + +<p>“The best thing to be done,” said Blair, “is to quietly +persuade her to give herself up. If she gives her explanation +of how this affair occurred, it may be accepted—at +present I don’t see any risk of her life, or even of heavy +punishment. It is quite conceivable that, being alarmed +at the presence of a strange man in her flat, she shot at and +killed him. But she will do no good by flight. Better far +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[292]</span>to give herself up and state her version of the matter.”</p> + +<p>“Will you come and talk to her, then?” asked Richard, +gloomily. “I’m a poor hand at persuading—besides, I’m +in the position of host to her, anyway.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” answered Blair. “I’ll go with you. +Then our conversation,” he continued, turning to Frances, +“must wait a few hours. You think there is no danger +of Carsdale—that he’ll be detained awhile?”</p> + +<p>“I think Carsdale is quite safe,” replied Frances, meaningly. +“Quite safe.”</p> + +<p>Blair nodded, and went off with Richard to Berkeley +Square. And at the door of his rooms they found a +stranger, a big, pleasant-faced man, who, after one sharp +look at them, addressed Mr. Shrewsbury by name.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[293]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXXVI<br> +<span class="large">INSPECTOR SKARRATT INVESTIGATES</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>To one person, closely concerned in it, the affair which +before morning had come to be famous as the Marengo +Mansions Mystery, provided very little mystery at all. +Inspector Skarratt did not believe for one moment that +John Carsdale had had anything to do with the actual +killing of Sydney Werrick. After interviewing the porter +who had seen Carsdale arrive at the Mansions and getting +the deliberately given opinion of the doctor who had first +been called to Mrs. Walsingham’s flat, he came to the conclusion +that Carsdale’s story was true, and that he had arrived +there some little time after Werrick was shot and his +wife fled. But he was also convinced, from the reports +furnished to him by the friendly principal of the private +detective agency, that Carsdale had been engaged in some +strange transactions, and he was not without hope that +through further inquiry into them he might elucidate +some dark points of the primary affair and get upon the +track of the escaped woman. And accordingly, having +arranged for Carsdale’s detention, and caused descriptions +of Mrs. Walsingham and suggestions as to her supposed +flight to be circulated, he prepared, late as it was, to find +out a little more about Mrs. Walsingham’s recent history.</p> + +<p>Naturally, his thoughts turned to Mrs. Walsingham’s +maid. Sophie Guyner had been kept at the police-station, +entertained by a female searcher; more than once she had +wanted to know when she would be at liberty to depart. +And at last Skarratt himself went to her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[294]</span>“Well, I think we shan’t want you any more to-night, +Miss Guyner,” he said. “Of course, you’re not going +back to that flat?”</p> + +<p>Sophie tossed her head. Except that she must visit it +sooner or later to collect her wardrobe and possessions, she +had no desire to see the flat Number 29 in Marengo Mansions +again.</p> + +<p>“But you must give me an address,” said Skarratt. +“I shall probably want you in the morning. And so will +the coroner’s officer.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to a friend’s who lives up Hampstead way,” +answered Sophie, and she gave the address. “They’ll take +me in there.”</p> + +<p>“I’m walking up Tottenham Court Road,” observed +Skarratt. “In fact, I’m going to get a little supper at a +quiet restaurant I know of. You look as if you’d do with +something yourself. Will you come?”</p> + +<p>Inspector Skarratt was a good-looking man, with a +pleasant and engaging manner; Miss Guyner had no objection +to accompanying him especially as supper was in view. +Moreover, she wanted to talk about the event of the evening. +And Skarratt, who had sized her up pretty conclusively +before he invited her to supper, let her talk as they +walked up the street, and he got a very retired corner in +the quiet restaurant, and, without seeming to do so, encouraged +her to talk still more; and he was treated to all +her views, listening to them without agreeing with +them. Amongst all the chaff of the maid’s conversation +he knew that he would probably find some grain of +wheat.</p> + +<p>Miss Guyner was still convinced that Carsdale and +Mrs. Walsingham had lured Werrick to the flat to kill him, +after which they meant to escape. They had always +wanted to be rid of him; they had deserted him in New +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[295]</span>York; now, when he had turned up again, they had meant +to be rid of him for ever. Skarratt let her talk on, and +refrained from pointing out the unlikelinesses and inconsistencies +of her narrative. But when she had made an +end he began to ask a quiet question or two, and so presently +came to hear the story of Richard Shrewsbury, and +of many things connected with him.</p> + +<p>“And a nice surprise it will be for him,” said Miss +Guyner. “He’s about as green as grass, or he’d have seen +through more things than one. But this’ll wake him up, +I should think—I expect he’ll see it in the newspapers to-morrow, +won’t he? But perhaps not—he’s abroad just +now. Paris.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, they get the English papers in the gay city,” +observed Skarratt. “Abroad, is he? And where does he +live in London?”</p> + +<p>Sophie gave full particulars of young Mr. Shrewsbury’s +palatial flat in Berkeley Square. She had visited it twice +with her mistress; the flats at Marengo Mansions were +nothing to it. She enlarged upon its grandeur, its furniture, +its appointments, and the detective listened eagerly +and quietly. And as he listened and learnt, he began to +see certain things and to understand others, and he congratulated +himself on having asked Miss Guyner to sup +with him.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said. “Much gone on this young fellow, was +she—your mistress?”</p> + +<p>Sophie expressed her feelings in a sniff of contempt.</p> + +<p>“Much gone on his money, you mean,” she said. “Talk +about spiders and flies!—he was a fly, right enough, and +she had him in her net right enough. Went for him dead +from the first—I saw what the game was.”</p> + +<p>“Got a good deal out of him, I suppose?” said Skarratt, +carelessly. “Jewels and so on, of course?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[296]</span>“She’d a diamond necklace out of him that was worth +ten thousand,” answered Sophie, carelessly.</p> + +<p>“And a lot of other things besides. He must have spent +a lot of money on her—he was taking her out to dinner +and to theatres, and so on, nearly every night.”</p> + +<p>“And you say he’s in Paris?” asked the detective. +“Now, between you and me, do you think she’ll +try to get across there to him? I mean to say, if +she can get over there, is he the sort that she could get +round?”</p> + +<p>“She got round him easy enough before,” replied +Sophie. “Yes—if she could get to him there, I dare say +she’d get round him all right. But what use would that +be?—I mean, what use would it be now?”</p> + +<p>Skarratt shook his head and looked knowing.</p> + +<p>“Ah, you don’t know all the ins and outs of our trade!” +he said. “You see, if this young fellow is really infatuated +with her, he’ll believe her before anybody, and he’s +rich, he would try to get her clean away. Money can do +a lot, you know.”</p> + +<p>“She wouldn’t be without money herself,” remarked +Sophie. “She was a keen hand at making a purse, I can +assure you.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, well, I shouldn’t wonder if she makes for Paris,” +said Skarratt. “However, there’ll be a good watch kept +at all the ports from which the boats sail to France.”</p> + +<p>Then, the little supper having come to an end, he gallantly +escorted Miss Guyner to the top of Tottenham Court +Road and put her in a bus going Hampstead way, asking +her at the same time to attend at the police-station early +next morning. And when the bus had gone on its journey, +he stood for a moment reflecting on what he had heard, +and then he pulled out his watch, and finding that it was +just eleven o’clock, he hailed a passing taxi-cab and gave +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[297]</span>orders to its driver to take him to the Mount Street end of +Berkeley Square. But before he had gone a hundred +yards he changed his mind and altered his instructions—he +would now go to New Scotland Yard.</p> + +<p>At New Scotland Yard Skarratt picked up a subordinate, +and gave the chauffeur his original instructions again. +He wanted to make certain inquiries at the flats wherein +Richard Shrewsbury lived, and it seemed to him that he +might as well make them at once. Arrived in Berkeley +Square, he bade his companion keep the cab and await his +return; he himself got out and went to find the flats. +He soon saw the object of his search, and perceived that +it was a fine town house which had been divided up into +select residential suites; he judged from that fact that his +task would be of no great difficulty.</p> + +<p>There was a hall-porter on the ground floor of the house—a +military looking man who sat in a sort of glass-walled +box near the entrance and was reading a newspaper. +Perceiving Skarratt, he laid the newspaper aside and came +out. His face suddenly changed: Skarratt saw that he +himself had been recognized. That in no way displeased +him—it made his task much easier.</p> + +<p>“Good evening,” said Skarratt. “A word with you. +Look here,” he continued, having followed the man into +his box, “I’m from New Scotland Yard—here’s my card—Inspector +Skarratt, you see.”</p> + +<p>The hall-porter nodded.</p> + +<p>“I know you by sight, Mr. Skarratt,” he said. “I used +to be in the Metropolitan force until I had an accident. +What is it, sir?”</p> + +<p>“There’s a young gentleman named Shrewsbury lives +in this building, isn’t there?” asked Skarratt.</p> + +<p>The hall-porter looked surprised, and Skarratt noticed +the look, and smiled.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[298]</span>“Nothing against him,” he said, reassuringly. “He’s +away just now, isn’t he?”</p> + +<p>“I believe he’s in Paris,” said the hall-porter. “His +man said something about it.”</p> + +<p>“Man live at the flat?” said Skarratt.</p> + +<p>“Man and wife—name of Kedgin,” answered the hall-porter. +“Mrs. Kedgin is away.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, well, I don’t think I want to see Kedgin to-night,” +said Skarratt. “I think you’ll do. I suppose you’ve been +on duty here all the evening, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Ever since eight o’clock, sir,” replied the hall-porter.</p> + +<p>“Uninterruptedly?” asked Skarratt.</p> + +<p>“Uninterruptedly,” answered the hall-porter.</p> + +<p>“You’ve seen everybody who came in and went out, I +suppose,” said Skarratt.</p> + +<p>“So far as I know, Mr. Skarratt,” said the man.</p> + +<p>“Well, now,” continued Skarratt, “you needn’t mention +a word of what I’m going to say to you, but have you seen +a woman enter who was dressed as a nun or a Sister of +Mercy?”</p> + +<p>The hall-porter reflected. But he could remember nothing +of the sort suggested by the detective, nor did he remember +a very important matter—namely, that, it being +a very warm evening, he had dropped asleep for some eight +or ten minutes just when twilight was fading into darkness. +Therefore he shook his head.</p> + +<p>“No, sir. I’ve seen nobody answering that description,” +he said. “I remember everybody who went in and out +to-night.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Skarratt. “Well—look in the paper +to-morrow morning, and you’ll see why I asked you. By +the by, have you ever seen a lady come here to see Mr. +Shrewsbury—a lady who had her maid with her?”</p> + +<p>“That’ll be the lady he’s going to marry,” said the hall-porter. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[299]</span>“Kedgin told me about her. Name of Mrs. Walsingham. +Yes, sir, I’ve seen her a time or two, and the +maid as well—pert young woman.”</p> + +<p>“You haven’t seen Mrs. Walsingham here to-night?” +asked Skarratt.</p> + +<p>But the man shook his head. No—it was quite a week +since he had seen Mrs. Walsingham. And Skarratt bade +him keep silence as regards his, Skarratt’s visit, and mentioned +that he should very likely call round in the morning +to see Kedgin, and again referred the hall-porter to +the morning newspaper, and went away to dismiss his +subordinate as being of no use to him that night and to +go home himself. For Skarratt had no idea of stopping +out of bed to think and plan and scheme.</p> + +<p>But he was up and at work next morning at an early +hour. There was no news of Mrs. Walsingham. Strict +watch was being kept at seaports and railway stations, +but nobody answering to her description had been seen. +It was drawing near to noon before Skarratt heard any +news. And what he heard then came from an unexpected +quarter—the hall-porter at the flat in Berkeley Square.</p> + +<p>The hall-porter sent Skarratt a wire which took him +hurrying around. He found the man looking puzzled and +doubtful.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know how it could be, Mr. Skarratt,” he said +when he and the detective were alone, “but I’ve heard +that a woman dressed like a nun did come in here last +night. I say I can’t make it out, for——”</p> + +<p>“Never mind that,” said Skarratt. “What have you +heard?”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, Jympson, who’s caretaker of that house +across there, didn’t happen to see the papers until late +this morning,” answered the hall-porter. “As soon as he +did, he hurried across to me and said that last night, just +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[300]</span>about dark, he saw a nun come in here—certain of it—but +thought nothing of it. Then I wired you at once. +But how I could miss seeing——”</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Skarratt. “Now, have you seen anything +this morning—of such a woman, I mean?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, sir. But Mr. Shrewsbury’s back. Came in +about two hours ago, and went out again soon afterwards,” +said the man. “I haven’t even seen Kedgin to-day.”</p> + +<p>“I’m going up, then,” said Skarratt. “By the by, is +this the only entrance to this place? No back entrance, +is there?”</p> + +<p>The hall-porter replied that there was no other entrance +than that, and Skarratt went on his way upstairs. He +had knocked twice at the door of the flat without receiving +any answer, when Richard and Captain Blair came +up and joined him.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[301]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXXVII<br> +<span class="large">THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>Richard came to a halt as Inspector Skarratt addressed +him. He glanced sharply at the detective and instantly +guessed his profession and his business. Skarratt smiled +pleasantly and politely and drew out a card. He presented +it with a slight bow.</p> + +<p>“You will see that I am a police-officer, Mr. Shrewsbury,” +he said. “I called here to make some inquiries +of you, sir.”</p> + +<p>“What is it?” asked Richard. He glanced from the +card to the door, wondering vaguely why it was not +opened, for he had heard Skarratt’s second and loud summons +as he came along the corridor. “Has no one answered +you?” he said, without waiting for Skarratt’s +reply to his first question.</p> + +<p>“I’ve knocked—loudly—twice,” he said, “and no +one has appeared yet,” answered Skarratt. “Perhaps +your servants are out?”</p> + +<p>Without replying, Richard drew his key from his pocket. +But on the point of inserting it in the latch, he paused +and glanced at Skarratt. He had little doubt of what the +detective was after, but he wanted to make sure.</p> + +<p>“What do you want with me?” he asked brusquely.</p> + +<p>“Very little,” replied Skarratt. “And I’ll tell you +in a few words. You have doubtless read the morning +papers, Mr. Shrewsbury, and so you’re aware of what +took place last night at Marengo Mansions. You’ll also +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[302]</span>be aware that the woman known as Mrs. Walsingham escaped +from her flat in the dress of a nun. I have information +that she was seen to enter this building about dark +last night, in that dress, and I cannot find that she has +ever left it. And naturally I conclude that she is hiding +in your rooms. I think that’s all clear, Mr. Shrewsbury?”</p> + +<p>Richard turned and looked at Blair. And Blair made +a motion of lips and eyes which said as plainly as words +could have said: “Tell him!”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Richard. He turned to Skarratt. +“Yes,” he said, “I think your information is right. I +found Mrs. Walsingham here when I came in from Paris +this morning, and I left her here while I went out to get +some advice from friends. Captain Blair, here, came back +with me to advise her to give herself up to the police.”</p> + +<p>“Best thing she can do, sir!” said Skarratt, heartily. +“The very best thing—if she’s still there, Mr. Shrewsbury.”</p> + +<p>“Still there?” exclaimed Richard. “What do you +mean?”</p> + +<p>Skarratt smiled.</p> + +<p>“I’ve knocked—loudly—twice,” he said, “and no one +comes. Hadn’t we better go in, Mr. Shrewsbury?”</p> + +<p>Richard opened the outer door of his rooms with a curious +presentiment of coming surprise, if not of evil. As +they stepped into the hall a strange consciousness that +the place was deserted came over him. He called Kedgin’s +name, loudly. There was no answer, and he looked +at his companions wonderingly.</p> + +<p>“That’s queer,” he said. “I gave Kedgin strict instructions +not to leave the place until I returned.”</p> + +<p>Skarratt was already looking into one doorway after +another—he passed into the servants’ part of the chambers, +and came hurriedly back.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[303]</span>“No one there,” he said. “Where did you leave this +woman, sir?”</p> + +<p>Richard walked into the dining-room, with Skarratt at +his heels, and pointed to a door.</p> + +<p>“She was in that room,” he answered. “She had locked +herself in.”</p> + +<p>Skarratt crossed to the door which Richard had indicated +and tried the handle. It turned easily; he pushed +the door open and looked within the room.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he said. “Look here, gentlemen!”</p> + +<p>Blair and Richard, following him, also glanced into the +room from over his shoulders. And there, thrown carelessly +across the rail of the bed, was the black garb of a +nun, with all its accessories.</p> + +<p>“I thought so!” exclaimed the detective, entering the +room. “I thought so, gentlemen. I’m too late—she’s +off! Flown!”</p> + +<p>“But—how?” said Richard. “How?”</p> + +<p>Skarratt glanced at Captain Blair, and turned to +Richard with a dry laugh.</p> + +<p>“How, sir?” he said. “Didn’t you leave your man to +act as gaoler?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—yes!” answered Richard. “But——”</p> + +<p>“No buts about it, Mr. Shrewsbury,” said Skarratt. +“She’s only done what prisoners in much safer places +sometimes do with their gaolers—she’s got round +him.”</p> + +<p>“But I tell you,” said Richard, impatiently, “I tell +you that when I left her she was ill, worn out—she said +she’d been obliged to take a sleeping-draught and hadn’t +got over it. She was too weary to talk to me, and——”</p> + +<p>“Pardon me for interrupting you, sir, but I should +say that was all clever acting to deceive you and get you +out of the way,” said Skarratt, cynically. “No, sir—she’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[304]</span>got round the man. Who is he, and where did you +get him?”</p> + +<p>“His name is William Kedgin, and he was highly +recommended to me by Mr. Carsdale,” answered Richard.</p> + +<p>“No great recommendation I should think, sir,” observed +Skarratt, who had been looking round the bedroom. +“See here, gentlemen!—the lady’s been making up a bit +for her new part,” and he picked up from the dressing-table +a stick of grease-paint. “It was a mistake on her +part to leave that. Now we must find out in what sort +of garments she made her exit. Wasn’t this man, Kedgin +married, sir, and isn’t his wife away just now?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Richard, who was feeling by that +time that he wished he had never heard of Carsdale or +Mrs. Walsingham, or even of London. “Yes, that’s so +in both cases.”</p> + +<p>“Then I suppose this woman has gone off in some of +Mrs. Kedgin’s clothes,” said Skarratt. “The probability +is that the flight had been arranged when you got here, +that they both acted to you, and that they were off very +soon after your back was turned. Now then, sir, let me +give you a piece of advice. I dare say you’ve plenty of +portable property in these rooms?”</p> + +<p>Richard stared at him blankly.</p> + +<p>“Portable property?” he said. “What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>“I mean jewellery, silver, anything worth money that’s +easily carried away,” answered Skarratt, smiling in pity +at the young man’s slowness of comprehension. “Perhaps, +also, you’ve such matters as valuable pictures, wines, +cigars, and so on.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” said Richard.</p> + +<p>“Then, while I pursue certain investigations of my +own,” continued Skarratt, “let me advise you to have a +careful look round and see if you’ve lost anything.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[305]</span>And he went out of the room, with a look at Blair +which was as much to imply that Richard was not fit to +look after himself.</p> + +<p>Richard sat down on the side of the bed and stared at +the sombre garments which the fugitive had cast aside.</p> + +<p>“Damn!” he said suddenly. “If that’s true about +Kedgin I think I shall chuck believing in people. I +thought he was a thoroughly dependable chap!”</p> + +<p>“Come and see if it is true,” said Blair. “I don’t +think there’s any doubt that Kedgin has helped this +woman to get away. Where will you begin?—have you +any jewellery in the place?”</p> + +<p>Richard stared at his companion as if he could scarcely +comprehend how a sane man should ask such a question.</p> + +<p>“Only two or three thousand pounds’ worth,” he answered +laconically. “I—I used to buy things on—on her +advice.”</p> + +<p>“Well, where is it?” asked Blair.</p> + +<p>A moment later, each man knew that that was not a +question which was going to be easily answered. It appeared +that Richard, full of belief in the Kedgin standard +of honour, had kept his valuables in a drawer in his bedroom +which he confessed to leaving unlocked. The satin-lined +cases were in the drawer, but pins, rings, sleeve-links, +odds and ends of pearls, diamonds, and good gold, +had vanished.</p> + +<p>“Now, then, where did you keep your silver?” asked +Blair, making no comment on the disappearance of the +jewellery.</p> + +<p>The silver was gone, too. Blair made no comment on +that, either: he had expected it. The silence grew deep +between Richard and himself as they continued their work +of exploration. And the result, tabulated, was appalling. +Blair, always practical, jotted things down, and handed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[306]</span>the list to Skarratt when he made his reappearance.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p> <i>Articles of jewellery, worth approximately, £3000.</i><br> + <i>Silver, worth £500.</i><br> + <i>Wine, worth £300 or £400.</i><br> + <i>Cigars, worth £200.</i><br> + <i>Linen, worth unknown.</i><br> + <i>Clothing, worth £100.</i><br> + <i>Pictures and old China, £1000.</i></p> +</div> + +<p>“Kedgin’s work, of course,” observed Skarratt, “but +he couldn’t carry these things away with him now, you +know, sir. No wonder he seemed agitated when you +turned up this morning. He’s had these got off in readiness +for his departure. Mrs. Walsingham most likely interrupted +him last night; you interrupted him again to-day. +And the probability is that she detected him, and that +they made common cause together, and that they went together +as soon as you were clear of the place a few hours +ago. And now, gentlemen, I’ll show you how they went.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve found that out?” said Blair.</p> + +<p>“I think I’ve found it out,” answered Skarratt. “But +come and see for yourselves.”</p> + +<p>He led the way into the servants’ part of the flat and +into the Kedgin sitting-room, where everything was neat, +orderly, and comfortable. And there he went to the window +and drew aside a curtain.</p> + +<p>“Now, gentlemen,” he said, “look out there. You will +see that this room looks upon a sort of small square or +opening, and that this house in which we now are, and +of which this flat of Mr. Shrewsbury’s forms the entire +top floor, is at an angle of that square. You can also see, +by looking from this corner, that the next house is empty. +Now, come with me.”</p> + +<p>Skarratt took them through other rooms to one which +had been used as a box and lumber room and pointed to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[307]</span>an iron ladder that led to a skylight in the roof. He began +to climb; the others followed.</p> + +<p>“They went this way, gentlemen,” he said. “Come +up—now we step on the leads of the empty house; now +we go down another ladder. And now we are in the +empty house itself!”</p> + +<p>To Blair and Richard the sense of being in a house +which was empty of life struck with a cold and unpleasant +feeling. Moreover, the house was obviously old and +damp and malodorous; the staircases down which Skarratt +led his companions creaked so much that they would not +have been surprised if they had suddenly found themselves +sinking through the rotten timbers. But Skarratt +went cheerily onward.</p> + +<p>“Property all coming down, gentlemen,” he said. +“And time it did—there used to be some old property as +bad as this where your house is now, Mr. Shrewsbury. +Well, here we are now in the hall—now come to the back. +Now, then, you see—here’s a side door, and it’s—open. +And it admits, you see, to a passage which runs away into +a side-street. That’s how they got off—in my opinion.”</p> + +<p>“Probably,” said Blair. He looked about him with +dislike. “Let’s get out of this,” he said. “It gives me +the horrors.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Richard. “It’s beastly.”</p> + +<p>Skarratt said nothing. He smiled, and led the way +back up the creaking and gloomy staircase, looking about +him with sharp, keen glances as he went. And suddenly, +as they turned at a landing, on which the doors of the +empty rooms stood half or wholly open the detective +stepped back on his companions with an exclamation of +horrified surprise.</p> + +<p>“My God, gentlemen!” he said. “What—what’s +that?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[308]</span>Following his pointing and trembling finger, Blair and +Richard glanced through an open door into a dusk-filled +chamber. Through a crack in the shutters came a single +shaft of light, and it fell full on a woman’s hand and arm, +lying within their range of vision. Nothing else was to +be seen, and for a moment the three stared. And neither +hand nor arm moved.</p> + +<p>Then, with a sudden cry of comprehension, Skarratt +leapt into the room, the others after him. One tore open +the shutters. And so they recognized the woman who +was wanted, and saw that Kedgin had lured her into this +lonely house, and had left her there—dead.</p> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[309]</span> + +<h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XXXVIII<br> +<span class="large">SALVING A FORTUNE</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>In the hasty, yet careful reckoning up of chances which +he made as soon as his victim was dead Mr. William Kedgin +came to the conclusion that it would be some time before +her body was discovered in the empty house. He +considered that there were two things in his favour. The +first was that when Shrewsbury’s rooms came to be found +empty, the impression would be given that he, Kedgin, +had helped Mrs. Walsingham to escape, and that the police +would give all their attention to her and none to the place +which had harboured her for the night—therefore, +some little time would necessarily elapse before suspicion would +rest on him for the theft of his master’s property. The +second—and perhaps more important one—was that he +saw no immediate prospect of any examination of the +empty house. Kedgin knew all about that house: he had +made himself master of it and its history as soon as he +came to reside under Richard’s roof. He knew it as a +poor old derelict, left to itself until the housebreakers +were ready to demolish it, and that event was not yet to +come off. He foresaw no possibility of its being entered +at once, of the immediate discovery of the body +of the woman upon whom he had turned as he led her down the +dark stairs, and accordingly believed that he had a clear +and a serviceable start of the hounds of Justice which +would sooner or later be let loose on his track. His preparations +had already been made—made before Sylvie +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[310]</span>Werrick came on the scene and interrupted them. Then +he had seen a further chance of increasing his spoil—that +her death was necessary to that increase was, in Kedgin’s +opinion, a mere trifling detail. Now that it was over, and +her realizable possessions in his power, he could go on +with his precious scheme.</p> + +<p>So Kedgin went away from the empty house, leaving +by the passage which Skarratt had shown to his companions. +The passage led him into certain by-ways at the +rear of the big houses—finally he emerged into Conduit +Street. No one of all the hurrying throngs there, or in +Hanover Square, through which he presently sauntered, +or in Regent Street, across which he presently hurried, +knew him for a murderer: if they saw him at all, they +took him for a respectable gentleman’s gentleman, going, +no doubt, about his business. He was calm, he was +serene—there was nothing on him to show the work in +which he had been engaged so recently. Nor did the landlady +of the little house in the small side-street off Golden +Square, to which Kedgin repaired, and wherein he had +tenanted a room for some time past, notice anything out +of the way or peculiar about her lodger when he came +in, and in passing her on his way upstairs observed that +he was going away for a day or two and must pack his +portmanteau. She had known Mr. Kidd, she said afterwards, +as a very quiet gentleman whom she understood to +be engaged at nights, as a rule, and who was only in now +and then during the day; who always paid his rent +promptly and generously and had a kind word and a sixpence +for the children: that he could strangle a lady in +a lonely house was more than she could believe.</p> + +<p>Kedgin had everything in readiness for his flight. He +had soon come to see that young Mr. Shrewsbury was not +only callow, but careless, and after Mrs. Kedgin—a lady +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[311]</span>of whom her husband was weary—had retired to the +country to visit a friend, it had been an easy thing to +rob him and to turn the proceeds of the robbery into good +money. He had the good money in such a form that it +was easily carried and always available, and now there +was nothing to do but add to it the proceeds of the robbery +and removal (he did not care to call it murder) of +Sylvie Werrick, who, doubtless, would have been highly +disgusted could she have known that her own carefully-laid +plans had been made for the benefit of another. So, +once in his room, he went about his final preparations +quietly, methodically, and without hurry. He was under +the firm belief that he had at least twenty-four hours’ +start of any pursuit, and he knew where he would be in +twenty-four hours from that time.</p> + +<p>It was not in Kedgin’s scheme to leave his room just +yet, for he had mapped his movements out to a minute. +So when he had finished his packing, and had strapped +his portmanteau, he indulged himself with a small cigar—one +of Richard’s—and a glass of wine—also Richard’s—and +idled about his room, destroying whatever small +traces of his occupancy still happened to be in it. And +after a time he chanced to be near the window and to look +out of it. Then he saw something that made the cigar +drop from his lips and sent him staggering against the +wall at his side.</p> + +<p>On the opposite side-walk, following the very track by +which he himself had approached the house only an hour +before, came a great dog, a blood-hound, red of eye and +mouth, straining at a leash held by a big man who hurried +behind it. And behind him were other men: Kedgin +knew some of them—Captain Burgoyne, and Captain +Blair, with his one arm, and Richard Shrewsbury and +others. They were excited, they were talking. And the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[312]</span>great beast before them came steadily on, came just where +he himself had come; if the path had been dripping with +blood he could not have come in a straighter line, said +Kedgin with a curse. Now he was straining across the +street; now the men behind him were pointing upward +... they had seen Kedgin’s white face at the window.</p> + +<p>Then Kedgin stepped back and drew a revolver from +his pocket. This had been beyond all his calculations. +And there was no back way out of this house. This was—the +end.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“That was an inspiration of yours, getting that hound, +Captain Burgoyne,” said Skarratt, later on in the day, +“and it was lucky, sir, that you could put your hand on +him there and then. You’ve got to thank Captain Burgoyne, +Mr. Shrewsbury, for that notion—if it hadn’t been +for that, it strikes me that we might have had some difficulty +in running down Kedgin and such property of +yours as he had on him and at his command. A cool, determined +customer, that, gentlemen!”</p> + +<p>Nobody made any reply to the detective’s remarks. +They were all back in the rooms at Berkeley Square, and +Richard was feeling as if the events of the last few hours +had been too much for him. The woman who had deceived +and robbed him had met her death at the hands of +a murderer; the murderer had taken his own life; it was +little satisfaction to him to know that his property was +being salved in this fashion. So he gave no answer to +Skarratt; instead, he glanced at Burgoyne. And suddenly +he jumped up.</p> + +<p>“I can’t stand this, Burgoyne!” he said. “I shall +choke if I stop in these rooms any longer. I’m going out +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[313]</span>where I can breathe—and to-night I shall stay at the <i>Ritz</i>. +I shan’t come back here—I’m sick of this place—I never +want to see it again.”</p> + +<p>“There are matters to clear up, you know,” replied +Burgoyne, slowly. “You can’t do everything at once. +There’s—Carsdale, for instance.” He paused and looked +at Skarratt. “What are you going to do about Carsdale?” +he asked. “There’s no doubt that the property you found +on him is Mr. Shrewsbury’s, you know.”</p> + +<p>Skarratt smiled.</p> + +<p>“No doubt, sir,” he answered. “And, of course, Mr. +Shrewsbury can deal with Carsdale when we’ve done with +him. And that reminds me of two matters which this +morning’s events had put out of my mind for the moment. +I may as well tell you that we have just about +finished with Carsdale. I, personally, haven’t the least +doubt that he told the truth about his presence at Marengo +Mansions. We can’t connect him with Werrick’s +death. And so—we shall let him go. That’s one thing. +And the other is that this morning Carsdale sent for me +and asked me to arrange for an interview between himself +and a solicitor who would act on your behalf, Mr. Shrewsbury, +in your absence. He wants to hand over those securities, +and so on, and to explain what he was doing with +them. He mentioned a Mr. Winch of Lincoln’s Inn, as +a likely man. But as you’re back, Mr. Shrewsbury, hadn’t +you better see him yourself and take up your property?”</p> + +<p>Richard shook his head. He looked appealingly at +Burgoyne.</p> + +<p>“No!” he said stoutly. “I won’t see him—it’s no good +asking me to see him—I trusted him. Burgoyne—won’t +you act for me? Let him give up what he’s got: he’s +welcome to anything beyond that. Only let him understand +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[314]</span>that I don’t want to see him again. Take Winch +if you like—do anything you like. You’ll find me at the +<i>Ritz</i>. I’ll never come into these rooms again.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Burgoyne. “I’ll see him.”</p> + +<p>So Richard went out of his palatial residence for the +last time, a much disillusioned young man, and locked the +door and put the key in his pocket, and went away, resolved +to sell all the belongings he left behind him, and +to clear matters up generally, and when that was done to +go back to Trinidad or somewhere equally remote and begin +a new life. He was still cogitating these projects when +Burgoyne found him at the hotel later in the afternoon. +He looked up at Burgoyne apathetically, and watched +him without interest as he produced a packet of papers +which he laid on a table and placed his hand upon.</p> + +<p>“That man, Carsdale,” said Burgoyne, without preface, +“is the most plausible person I ever met! Winch +and I saw him, in Skarratt’s presence. To any one who +did not know him as well as I do, now, his story would +have seemed the most straightforward thing in the world. +He produced papers signed by you which gave him full +power to deal with your securities at the bank. He explained +his action in dealing with two hundred thousand +pounds’ worth of them by saying that he wished to re-invest. +He handed over the papers relating to his transactions—they’re +all here, and Winch says you’re all right +as regards the two hundred thousand. Then, of course, +there’s the fifty thousand worth at the bank, which he +didn’t touch. It seems to me that what you’ll lose, Dick, +my boy, will be the ten thousand you gave him to play +with, as he called it. I should say that’s gone.”</p> + +<p>“Let it go!” exclaimed Richard.</p> + +<p>“Just so,” agreed Burgoyne. “After all, you’ve +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[315]</span>bought your experience fairly cheaply in comparison with +what you might have paid for it. But, my boy, it was a +near touch-and-go. Do you know whom you’ve to thank +for keeping an eye on Carsdale?—he’d have got away but +for a friend that you haven’t thought of. He swears now +that he got those tickets for Mr. and Mrs. Werrick, and +was going to send them off, and start them afresh in life, +but that’s all rot!—he meant them for himself and the +woman. And he’d have got away but for two things on +which he didn’t reckon—first the affair at Marengo Mansions, +and, second, that he was being watched on your +behalf, and that he’d have been arrested that very night. +That’s a fact, my son!”</p> + +<p>Richard stared at his informant for a full moment of +silence.</p> + +<p>“Who was watching him on my behalf?” he asked at +last.</p> + +<p>Burgoyne smiled and passed Richard the packet of papers.</p> + +<p>“Miss Leverton,” he answered. “And you ought to +thank her that you’ve got—those!”</p> + +<p>Richard jumped to his feet, thrusting the papers into +his pocket. He seized his hat and made for the door.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do that—now!” he said.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>He had thought of a thousand things to say as he hurried +to Maida Vale, but when he was alone with Miss +Frances Leverton, young Mr. Shrewsbury’s ideas and +thoughts seemed to have become utterly confused, and he +soon felt that he was making a mess of everything. And +suddenly he gave up the task.</p> + +<p>“That isn’t a bit what I wanted to say,” he said, despairingly. +“I’m no good at saying—anything. Only, I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[316]</span>wanted you to know that I’m—grateful, you know, because +you thought of me, and so on. And—there was a +thing I wanted to ask of you.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Frances.</p> + +<p>“You—you said I might come to tea one Sunday—oh, +it seems ages ago, now!—and I didn’t come,” he said. +“Will you let me come, some other time?”</p> + +<p>Frances turned away, smiling, and touched a bell.</p> + +<p>“We are just going to have tea,” she said, quietly. +“Won’t you stop?”</p> + +<p class="center">THE END</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="ph2"><i>The novels of</i><br> +J. S. FLETCHER</p> + +<p class="ph1">“<i>Without question the supreme detective story + writer of today.</i>”—<i>Brooklyn Eagle</i></p> +</div> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="ph4">DEAD MEN’S MONEY</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>“Murder and attempted murder and abduction, missing +heirs, false impersonation, and other complications, +the unravelling of which makes an entertaining +tale for those who seek relaxation.”—<i>Philadelphia Public Ledger</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE MIDDLE TEMPLE MURDER</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>A peculiarly puzzling murder story in which the +finger of suspicion darts about from one person to +another as erratically as flashes of lightning.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE CHESTERMARKE INSTINCT</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>Concerns the sudden and inexplicable disappearance +of the manager of a country bank.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE TALLEYRAND MAXIM</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>The peculiarly moving story of a young man who +gets on in life by hook or crook, with no objection +to crime or deception, remarkably resourceful, and +who takes life as a game to be played while the +playing is good.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE PARADISE MYSTERY</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>The quiet repose of an old English cathedral town +is suddenly shattered by a series of remarkable +crimes whose deep laid mystery is involved with a +charming love story.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE ORANGE-YELLOW DIAMOND</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>“A rattling good yarn ... the excellence does not +depend entirely however upon its plot ... an uncommonly +well written tale.”—<i>New York Times</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE BOROUGH TREASURER</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>An ingenious tale of crime, cleverly and logically +developed. The absorbed reader will find it difficult +to turn his attention to other matters until he has +reached the solution.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE HERAPATH PROPERTY</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>An enthralling narrative of a strange testament and +of the way certain individuals tried to break it.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">SCARHAVEN KEEP</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>The mysterious adventure of a popular actor in an +ancient English castle overlooking the sea.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE RAYNER-SLADE AMALGAMATION</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>The story of a murderer who was asked to help run +down his own crime, of a beautiful woman who fled +across England at the dead of night, of a daring +intrigue which involved the fates of an American, a +Dutchman, and a Russian Princess.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">RAVENSDENE COURT</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>“The most complicated and in some ways the most +finished of Mr. Fletcher’s works in this special line. +It will not stop a clock, but will keep readers from +looking at one.”—<i>New York World</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE LOST MR. LINTHWAITE</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>Mr. Linthwaite, charming and gentlemanly, is seen. +Mr. Linthwaite is gone. How? Where?</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">EXTERIOR TO THE EVIDENCE</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>Another remarkable murder story, set against a +wild and desolate moorland, and as deftly worked +out as anything Mr. Fletcher has ever written.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE MARKENMORE MYSTERY</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>Of course the idea is “Who killed Guy Markenmore +and why?”, but the story is far from an ordinary +detective tale, and the interest burns steadily +through the whole book.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE KING VERSUS WARGRAVE</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>“As has been the case with many another novel +from his pen, the reader of this volume early gets +the impression and retains it to the end that Mr. +Fletcher is a novelist of high order and not merely +a writer of good detective stories.”—<i>Boston Herald</i></p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE MAZAROFF MYSTERY</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>A curious story of sudden death and concealed identity, +and one of the most thrilling of all Fletcher +books.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE TIME-WORN TOWN</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>A dramatic unravelling of the enigmatic life of the +Mayor of Hathelborough who chose to remain, +night after night, undisturbed with his books and +strange papers.</p> +</div> + +<p class="ph4">THE WOLVES AND THE LAMB</p> + +<div class="blockquot2"> +<p>Three hundred thousand pounds! How much +would you do for them? Mr. Fletcher’s latest fascinating +mystery is a marvellously skilful tangle of +finance, law and greed with a woman’s vanity at its +center.</p> +</div> +<p class="center"><i>Each volume $2.00 net at all bookstores</i></p> + +<p class="ph3">ALFRED · A · KNOPF</p> + +<p class="ph1">730 FIFTH AVENUE <span class="gap"> NEW YORK</span></p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote"> +<p class="ph1">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> + + +<p>Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.</p> + +<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.</p> + +<p>Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.</p> +</div></div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79012 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/79012-h/images/cover.jpg b/79012-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..fc675b2 --- /dev/null +++ b/79012-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/79012-h/images/coversmall.jpg b/79012-h/images/coversmall.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..53632e5 --- /dev/null +++ b/79012-h/images/coversmall.jpg diff --git a/79012-h/images/title.jpg b/79012-h/images/title.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..d028ce6 --- /dev/null +++ b/79012-h/images/title.jpg diff --git a/79012-h/images/titlelogo.jpg b/79012-h/images/titlelogo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..574f7a5 --- /dev/null +++ b/79012-h/images/titlelogo.jpg |
