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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9871-8.txt b/9871-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2e8bb6 --- /dev/null +++ b/9871-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10601 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Avenger, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Avenger + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Posting Date: October 20, 2010 +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9871] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AVENGER *** + + + + +Produced by E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary +Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg + + + + + + + +[Illustration: frontispiece] + + + + + THE AVENGER + + BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM + + Author of + + "The Master Mummer," "A Maker of History," + "The Malefactor," "The Lost Leader," + "The Great Secret," Etc. + + _Illustrated by_ + + ALEC BALL + + 1908 + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I. A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR + + II. THE HORROR OF THE HANSOM + + III. DISCUSSING THE CRIME + + IV. UNDER A CLOUD + + V. ON THE TELEPHONE + + VI. ONE THOUSAND POUNDS' REWARD + + VII. THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER + + VIII. THE BARONESS INTERVENES + + IX. A BOX AT THE ALHAMBRA + + X. OUTCAST + + XI. FALSE SENTIMENT + + XII. TIDINGS FROM THE CAPE + + XIII. SEARCHING THE CHAMBERS + + XIV. THE DEAD MAN'S BROTHER + + XV. THE LAWYER'S SUGGESTION + + XVI. A DINNER IN THE STRAND + + XVII. A CONFESSION OF LOVE + + XVIII. AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE + + XIX. DESPERATE WOOING + + XX. STABBED THROUGH THE HEART + + XXI. THE FLIGHT OF LOUISE + + XXII. THE CHÂTEAU OF ÉTARPE + + XXIII. A PASSIONATE PILGRIM + + XXIV. AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + XXV. THE MAN IN THE YELLOW BOOTS + + XXVI. MADAME DE MELBAIN + + XXVII. THE SPY + + XXVIII. THE SCENE IN THE AVENUE + + XXIX. A SUBSTANTIAL GHOST + + XXX. THE QUEEN OF MEXONIA + + XXXI. RETURNED FROM THE TOMB + + XXXII. AT THE HÔTEL SPLENDIDE + + XXXIII. A HAND IN THE GAME + + XXXIV. AN ILL-ASSORTED COUPLE + + XXXV. HIS WIFE + + XXXVI. THE MURDERED MAN'S EFFECTS + + XXXVII. THE WIDOW'S ULTIMATUM + + XXXVIII. INEFFECTUAL WOOING + + XXXIX. THE COLONEL'S MISSION + + XL. BLACKMAIL + + XLI. THE COLONEL SPEAKS + + XLII. LOVE REMAINS + + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"THERE PLASHED ACROSS HER FACE A QUIVER, AS THOUGH OF PAIN" + +"AT THE SIGHT OF THE TWO MEN, THE BARONESS STOPPED SHORT" + +"HE WAS THERE ON HIS KNEES, WITH HIS ARMS AROUND THE TERRIFIED WOMAN" + +"'TO THE NEAREST POLICE STATION! THAT'S WHERE I'M OFF.'" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR + + +The man and the woman stood facing one another, although in the uncertain +firelight which alone illuminated the room neither could see much save +the outline of the other's form. The woman stood at the further end of +the apartment by the side of the desk--his desk. The slim trembling +fingers of one hand rested lightly upon it, the other was hanging by her +side, nervously crumpling up the glove which she had only taken off a few +minutes before. The man stood with his back to the door through which he +had just entered. He was in evening dress; he carried an overcoat over +his arm, and his hat was slightly on the back of his head. A cigarette +was still burning between his lips, the key by means of which he had +entered was swinging from his little finger. So far no words had passed +between them. Both were apparently stupefied for the moment by the +other's unexpected presence. + +It was the man who recovered his self-possession first. He threw his +overcoat into a chair, and touched the brass knobs behind the door. +Instantly the room was flooded with the soft radiance of the electric +lights. They could see one another now distinctly. The woman leaned a +little forward, and there was amazement as well as fear flashing in her +soft, dark eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded to herself unnatural. +To him it came as a surprise, for the world of men and women was his +study, and he recognized at once its quality. + +"Who are you?" she exclaimed. "What do you want?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"It seems to me," he answered, "that I might more fittingly assume the +role of questioner. However, I have no objection to introduce myself. My +name is Herbert Wrayson. May I ask," he continued with quiet sarcasm, "to +what I am indebted for this unexpected visit?" + +She was silent for a moment, and as he watched her his surprise grew. +Equivocal though her position was, he knew very well that this was no +ordinary thief whom he had surprised in his rooms, engaged to all +appearance in rifling his desk. The fact that she was a beautiful woman +was one which he scarcely took into account. There were other things more +surprising which he could not ignore. Her evening dress of black net was +faultlessly made, and he knew enough of such things to be well aware that +it came from the hands of no ordinary dressmaker. A string of pearls, her +only ornament, hung from her neck, and her black hat with its drooping +feathers was the fellow of one which he had admired a few evenings ago at +the Ritz in Paris. It flashed upon him that this was a woman of +distinction, one who belonged naturally, if not in effect, to the world +of which even he could not claim to be a habitant. What was she doing in +his rooms?--of what interest to her were he and his few possessions? + +"Herbert Wrayson," she repeated, leaning a little towards him. "If your +name is Herbert Wrayson, what are you doing in these rooms?" + +"They happen to be mine," he answered calmly. + +"Yours!" + +She picked up a small latch-key from the desk. + +"This is number 11, isn't it?" she asked quickly. + +"No! Number 11 is the flat immediately overhead," he told her. + +She appeared unconvinced. + +"But I opened the door with this key," she declared. + +"Mr. Barnes and I have similar locks," he said. "The fact remains that +this is number 9, and number 11 is one story overhead." + +She drew a long breath, presumably of relief, and moved a step forward. + +"I am very sorry!" she declared. "I have made a mistake. You must please +accept my apologies." + +He stood motionless in front of the door. He was pale, clean-shaven, and +slim, and in his correct evening clothes he seemed a somewhat ordinary +type of the well-bred young Englishman. But his eyes were grey, and his +mouth straight and firm. + +She came to a standstill. Her eyes seemed to be questioning him. She +scarcely understood his attitude. + +"Kindly allow me to pass!" she said coldly. + +"Presently!" he answered. + +Her veil was still raised, and the flash of her eyes would surely have +made a weaker man quail. But Wrayson never flinched. + +"What do you mean by that?" she demanded. "I have explained my presence +in your room. It was an accident which I regret. Let me pass at once." + +"You have explained your presence here," he answered, "after a fashion! +But you have not explained what your object may be in making use of that +key to enter Mr. Barnes' flat. Are you proposing to subject his +belongings to the same inspection as mine?" he asked, pointing to his +disordered desk. + +"My business with Mr. Barnes is no concern of yours!" she exclaimed +haughtily. + +"Under ordinary circumstances, no!" he admitted. "But these are not +ordinary circumstances. Forgive me if I speak plainly. I found you +engaged in searching my desk. The presumption is that you wish to do the +same thing to Mr. Barnes'." + +"And if I do, sir!" she demanded, "what concern is it of yours? How do +you know that I have not permission to visit his rooms--that he did not +himself give me this key?" + +She held it out before him. He glanced at it and back into her face. + +"The supposition," he said, "does not commend itself to me." + +"Why not?" + +He looked at the clock. + +"You see," he declared, "that it is within a few minutes of midnight. To +be frank with you, you do not seem to me the sort of person likely to +visit a bachelor such as Mr. Barnes, in a bachelor flat, at this hour, +without some serious object." + +She kept silence for several moments. Her bosom was rising and falling +quickly, and a brilliant spot of colour was burning in her cheeks. Her +head was thrown a little back, she was regarding him with an intentness +which he found almost disconcerting. He had an uncomfortable sense that +he was in the presence of a human being who, if it had lain in her +power, would have killed him where he stood. Further, he was realizing +that the woman whom at first glance he had pronounced beautiful, was +absolutely the first of her sex whom he had ever seen who satisfied +completely the demands of a somewhat critical and highly cultivated +taste. The silence between them seemed extended over a time crowded and +rich with sensations. He found time to marvel at the delicate whiteness +of her bosom, gleaming like polished ivory under the network of her black +gown, to appreciate with a quick throb of delight the slim roundness of +her perfect figure, the wonderful poise of her head, the soft richness of +her braided hair. Every detail of feature and of toilet seemed to satisfy +to the last degree each critical faculty of which he was possessed. He +felt a little shiver of apprehension when he recalled the cold brutality +of the words which had just left his lips! Yet how could he deal with her +differently? + +"Is this man--Morris Barnes--your friend?" she asked, breaking a silence +which had done more than anything else to unnerve him. + +"No!" he answered. "I scarcely know the man. I have never seen him except +in the lift, or on the stairs." + +"Then you have no excuse for keeping me here," she declared. "I may be +his friend, or I may be his enemy. At least I possess the key of his +flat, presumably with his permission. My presence here I have explained. +I can assure you that it is entirely accidental! You have no right to +detain me for a moment." + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck midnight. A sudden passion surged in +his veins, a passion which, although at the time he could not have +classified it, was assuredly a passion of jealousy! He remembered the man +Barnes, whom he hated. + +"You shall not go to his rooms--at this hour!" he exclaimed. "You don't +know the man! If you were seen--" + +She laughed mockingly. + +"Let me pass!" she insisted. + +He hesitated. She saw very clearly that she was conquering. A moment +before she had respected this man. After all, though, he was like +the others. + +"I will go with you and wait outside," he said doggedly. "Barnes, at this +hour--is not always sober!" + +Her lips curled. + +"Be wise," she said, "and let me go. I do not need your protection or--" + +She broke off suddenly. The interruption was certainly startling +enough. From a table only a few feet off came the shrill tinkle of a +telephone bell. Wrayson mechanically stepped backwards and took the +receiver into his hand. + +"Who is it?" he asked. + +The voice which answered him was faint but clear. It seemed to Wrayson to +come from a long way off. + +"Is that Mr. Wrayson's flat in Cavendish Mansions?" it asked. + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered. "Who are you?" + +"I am a friend of Mr. Morris Barnes," the voice answered. "May I +apologize for calling you up, but the matter is urgent. Can you tell me +if Mr. Barnes is in?" + +"I am not sure, but I believe he is never in before one or two o'clock," +Wrayson answered. + +"Will you write down a message and leave it in his letter-box?" the +voice asked anxiously. "It is very important or I would not trouble you." + +"Very well," Wrayson answered. "What is it?" + +"Tell him instantly he returns to leave his flat and go to the Hotel +Francis. A friend is waiting there for him, the friend whom he has been +expecting!" + +"A lady?" Wrayson remarked a little sarcastically. + +"No!" the voice answered. "A friend. Will you do this? Will you promise +to do it?" + +"Very well," Wrayson said. "Who are you, and where are you ringing up +from?" + +"Remember you have promised!" was the only reply. + +"All right! Tell me your name," Wrayson demanded. + +No answer. Wrayson turned the handle of the instrument viciously. + +"Exchange," he asked, "who was that talking to me just now?" + +"Don't know," was the prompt answer. "We can't remember all the calls we +get. Ring off, please!" + +Wrayson laid down the receiver and turned round with a sudden sense of +apprehension. There was a feeling of emptiness in the room. He had not +heard a sound, but he knew very well what had happened. The door was +slightly open and the room was empty. She had taken advantage of his +momentary absorption to slip away. + +He stepped outside and stood by the lift, listening. The landing was +deserted, and there was no sound of any one moving anywhere. The lift +itself was on the ground floor. It had not ascended recently or he must +have heard it. He returned to his room and softly closed the door. Again +the sense of emptiness oppressed him. A faint perfume around the place +where she had stood came to him like a whiff of some delicious memory. He +set his teeth, lit a cigarette, and sitting down at his desk wrote a few +lines to his neighbour, embodying the message which had been given him. +With the note in his hand he ascended to the next floor. + +There was apparently no light in flat number 11, but he rang the bell and +listened. There was no answer, no sound of any one moving within. For +nearly ten minutes he waited--listening. He was strongly tempted to open +the door with his own key and see for himself if she was there. Then he +remembered that Barnes was a man whom he barely knew, and cordially +disliked, and that if he should return unexpectedly, the situation would +be a little difficult to explain. Reluctantly he descended to his own +flat, and mixing himself a whisky and soda, lit a pipe and sat down, +determined to wait until he heard Barnes return. In less than a quarter +of an hour he was asleep! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE HORROR OF THE HANSOM + + +Wrayson sat up with a sudden and violent start. His pipe had fallen on to +the floor, leaving a long trail of grey ash upon his waistcoat and +trousers. The electric lights were still burning, but of the fire nothing +remained but a pile of ashes. As soon as he could be said to be conscious +of anything, he was conscious of two things. One was that he was +shivering with cold, the other that he was afraid. + +Wrayson was by no means a coward. He had come once or twice in his life +into close touch with dangerous happenings, and conducted himself with +average pluck. He never attempted to conceal from himself, however, that +these few minutes were minutes of breathless, unreasoning fear. His heart +was thumping against his side, and the muscles at the back of his neck +were almost numb as he slowly looked round the room. His eyes paused at +the door. It was slightly open, to his nervous fancy it seemed to be +shaking. His teeth chattered, he felt his forehead, and it was wet. + +He rose to his feet and listened. There was no sound anywhere, from above +or below. He tried to remember what it was that had awakened him so +suddenly. He could remember nothing except that awful start. Something +must have disturbed him! He listened again. Still no sound. He drew a +little breath, and, with his eyes glued upon the half-closed door, +recollected that he himself had left it open that he might hear Barnes go +upstairs. With a little laugh, still not altogether natural, he moved to +the spirit decanter and drank off half a wineglassful of neat whisky! + +"Nerves," he said softly to himself. "This won't do! What an idiot I was +to go to sleep there!" + +He glanced at the clock. It was five minutes to three. Then he moved +towards the door, and stood for several moments with the handle in his +hand. Gradually his confidence was returning. He listened attentively. +There was not a sound to be heard in the entire building. He turned back +into the room with a little sigh of relief. + +"Time I turned in," he muttered. "Wonder if that's rain." + +He lifted the blind and looked out. A few stars were shining still in a +misty sky, but a bank of clouds was rolling up and rain was beginning to +fall. The pavements were already wet, and the lamp-posts obscured. He was +about to turn away when a familiar, but unexpected, sound from the street +immediately below attracted his notice. The window was open at the top, +and he had distinctly heard the jingling of a hansom bell. + +He threw open the bottom sash and leaned out. A hansom cab was waiting at +the entrance to the flats. Wrayson glanced once more instinctively +towards the clock. Who on earth of his neighbours could be keeping a cab +waiting outside at that hour in the morning? With the exception of Barnes +and himself, they were most of them early people. Once more he looked out +of the window. The cabman was leaning forward in his seat with his head +resting upon his folded arms. He was either tired out or asleep. The +attitude of the horse was one of extreme and wearied dejection. Wrayson +was on the point of closing the window when he became aware for the first +time that the cab had an occupant. He could see the figure of a man +leaning back in one corner, he could even distinguish a white-gloved hand +resting upon the apron. The figure was not unlike the figure of Barnes, +and Barnes, as he happened to remember, always wore white gloves in the +evening. Barnes it probably was, waiting--for what? Wrayson closed the +window a little impatiently, and turned back into the room. + +"Barnes and his friends can go to the devil," he muttered. "I am +off to bed." + +He took a couple of steps across the room, and then stopped short. The +fear was upon him again. He felt his heart almost stop beating, a cold +shiver shook his whole frame. He was standing facing his half-open door, +and outside on the stone steps he heard the soft, even footfall of +slippered feet, and the gentle rustling of a woman's gown. + +He was not conscious of any movement, but when she reached the landing he +was standing there on the threshold, with the soft halo of light from +behind shining on to his white, fiercely questioning face. She came +towards him without speech, and her veil was lowered so that he could +only imperfectly see her face, but she walked as one newly recovered from +illness, with trembling footsteps, and with one hand always upon the +banisters. When she reached the corner she stopped, and seemed about to +collapse. She spoke to him, and her voice had lost all its quality. It +sounded harsh and unreal. + +"Why are you--spying on me?" she asked. + +"I am not spying," he answered. "I have been asleep--and woke up +suddenly." + +"Give me--some brandy!" she begged. + +She stood upon the threshold and drank from the wineglass which he +had filled. When she gave it back to him, he noticed that her fingers +were steady. + +"Will you come downstairs and let me out?" she asked. "I have looked +down and it is all dark on the ground floor. I am not sure that I +know my way." + +He hesitated, but only for a moment. Side by side they walked down four +flights of steps in unbroken silence. He asked no question, she attempted +no explanation. Only when he opened the door and she saw the waiting +hansom she very nearly collapsed. For a moment she clung to him. + +"He is there--in the cab," she moaned. "Where can I hide?" + +"Whoever it is," Wrayson answered, with his eyes fixed upon the hansom, +"he is either drunk or asleep." + +"Or dead!" she whispered in his ear. "Go and see!" + +Then, before Wrayson could recover from the shock of her words, she was +gone, flitting down the unlit side of the street with swift silent +footsteps. His eyes followed her mechanically. Then, when she had turned +the corner, he crossed the pavement towards the cab. Even now he could +see little of the figure in the corner, for his silk hat was drawn down +over his eyes. + +"Is that you, Barnes?" he asked. + +There came not the slightest response. Then for the first time the +hideous meaning of those farewell words of hers broke in upon his brain. +Had she meant it? Had she known or guessed? He leaned forward and +touched the white-gloved hand. He raised it and let go. It fell like a +dead, inert thing. He stepped back and confronted the cabman, who was +rubbing his eyes. + +"There's something wrong with your fare, cabby," he said. + +The cabby raised the trap door, looked down, and descended heavily on to +the pavement. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" he said. "Here, wake up, guv'nor!" + +There was no response. The cabby threw open the apron of the cab and +gently shook the recumbent figure. + +"I can't wait 'ere all night for my fare!" he exclaimed. "Wake up, God +luv us!" he broke off. + +He stepped hastily back on to the pavement, and began tugging at one of +his lamps. + +"Push his hat back, sir," he said. "Let's 'ave a look at 'im." + +Wrayson stood upon the step of the cab and lifted the silk hat from the +head of the recumbent figure. Then he sprang back quickly with a little +exclamation of horror. The lamp was shining full now upon the man's face, +livid and white, upon his staring but sightless eyes, upon something +around his neck, a fragment of silken cord, drawn so tightly that the +flesh seemed to hang over and almost conceal it. + +"Throttled, by God!" the cabman exclaimed. "I'm off to the police +station." + +He clambered up to his seat, and without another word struck his horse +with the whip. The cab drove off and disappeared. Wrayson turned slowly +round, and, closing the door of the flats, mounted with leaden feet to +the fourth story. + +He entered his own rooms, and walked without hesitation to the window, +which was still open. The fresh air was almost a necessity, for he felt +himself being slowly stifled. His knees were shaking, a cold icy horror +was numbing his heart and senses. A feeling of nightmare was upon him, as +though he had risen unexpectedly from a bed of delirium. There in front +of him, a little to the left, was the broad empty street amongst whose +shadows she had disappeared. On one side was the Park, and there was +obscurity indefinable, mysterious; on the other a long row of tall +mansions, a rain-soaked pavement, and a curving line of gas lamps. +Beyond, the river, marked with a glittering arc of yellow dots; further +away the glow of the sleeping city. Shelter enough there for any +one--even for her. A soft, damp breeze was blowing in his face; from +amongst the dripping trees of the Park the birds were beginning to make +their morning music. Already the blackness of night was passing away, the +clouds were lightening, the stars were growing fainter. Wrayson leaned a +little forward. His eyes were fixed upon the exact spot where she had +crossed the road and disappeared. All the horror of the coming day and +the days to come loomed out from the background of his thoughts. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DISCUSSING THE CRIME + + +The murder of Morris Barnes, considered merely as an event, came as a +Godsend to the halfpenny press, which has an unwritten but immutable +contract with the public to provide it with so much sensation during the +week, in season or out of season. Nothing else was talked about anywhere. +Under the influence of the general example, Wrayson found himself within +a few days discussing its details with perfect coolness, and with an +interest which never flagged. He seemed continually to forget his own +personal and actual connection with the affair. + +It was discussed, amongst other places, at the Sheridan Club, of which +Wrayson was a member, and where he spent most of his spare time. At one +particular luncheon party the day after the inquest, nothing else was +spoken of. For the first time, in Wrayson's hearing, a new and somewhat +ominous light was thrown upon the affair. + +There were four men at the luncheon party, which was really not a +luncheon party at all, but a promiscuous coming together of four of the +men who usually sat at what was called the Colonel's table. First of all +there was the Colonel himself,--Colonel Edgar Fitzmaurice, C.B., +D.S.O.,--easily the most popular member of the club, a distinguished +retired officer, white-haired, kindly and genial, a man of whom no one +had ever heard another say an unkind word, whose hand was always in his +none too well-filled pockets, and whose sympathies were always ready to +be enlisted in any forlorn cause, deserving or otherwise. At his right +hand sat Wrayson; on his left Sydney Mason, a rising young sculptor, and +also a popular member of this somewhat Bohemian circle. Opposite was +Stephen Heneage, a man of a different and more secretive type. He called +himself a barrister, but he never practised; a journalist at times, but +he seldom put his name to anything he wrote. His interests, if he had +any, he kept to himself. In a club where a man's standing was reckoned by +what he was and what he produced, he owed such consideration as he +received to a certain air of reserved strength, the more noteworthy +amongst a little coterie of men, who amongst themselves were accustomed +to speak their minds freely, and at all times. If he was never brilliant, +he had never been heard to say a foolish thing or make a pointless +remark. He moved on his way through life, and held his place there more +by reason of certain negative qualities which, amongst a community of +optimists, were universally ascribed to him, than through any more +personal or likable gifts. He had a dark, strong face, but a slim, weakly +body. He was never unduly silent, but he was a better listener than +talker. If he had no close friends, he certainly had no enemies. Whether +he was rich or poor no man knew, but next to the Colonel himself, no one +was more ready to subscribe to any of those charities which the +Sheridanites were continually inaugurating on behalf of their less +fortunate members. The man who succeeds in keeping the "ego" out of sight +as a rule neither irritates nor greatly attracts. Stephen Heneage was +one of those who stood in this position. + +They were talking about the murder, or rather the Colonel was talking and +they were listening. + +"There is one point," he remarked, filling his glass and beaming +good-humouredly upon his companions, "which seems to have been entirely +overlooked. I am referring to the sex of the supposed assassin!" + +Wrayson looked up inquiringly. It was a point which interested him. + +"Nearly all of you have assumed," the Colonel continued, "that it must +have taken a strong man to draw the cord tight enough to have killed that +poor fellow without any noticeable struggle. As a matter of fact, a child +with that particular knot could have done it. It requires no strength, +only delicacy of touch, rapidity and nerve." + +"A woman, then--" Wrayson began. + +"Bless you, yes! a woman could have done it easily," the Colonel +declared, "only unfortunately there don't seem to have been any women +about. Why, I've seen it done in Korea with a turn of the wrist. It's +all knack." + +Wrayson shuddered slightly. The Colonel's words had troubled him more +than he would have cared to let any one know. + +"Woman or man or child," Mason remarked, "the person who did it seems to +have vanished in some remarkable manner from the face of the earth." + +"He certainly seems," the Colonel admitted, "to have covered up his +traces with admirable skill. I have read every word of the evidence at +the inquest, and I can understand that the police are completely +confused." + +Heneage and Mason exchanged glances of quiet amusement whilst the +Colonel helped himself to cheese. + +"Dear old boy," the latter murmured, "he's off on his hobby. Let him go +on! He enjoys it more than anything in the world." + +Heneage nodded assent, and the Colonel returned to the subject with +avidity a few moments later. + +"This man Morris Barnes," he affirmed, "seems to have been a somewhat +despicable, at any rate, a by no means desirable individual. He was of +Jewish origin, and he had not long returned from South Africa, where +Heaven knows what his occupation was. The money of which he was +undoubtedly possessed he seems to have spent, or at any rate some part +of it, in aping the life of a dissipated man about town. He was known +to the fair promenaders of the Empire and Alhambra, he was an _habitué_ +of the places where these--er--ladies partake of supper after the +exertions of the evening. Of home life or respectable friends he seems +to have had none." + +"This," Mason declared, leaning back and lighting a cigarette, "is better +than the newspapers. Go on, Colonel! Your biography may not be +sympathetic, but it is lifelike!" + +The Colonel's eyes were full of a distinct and vivid light. He scarcely +heard the interruption. He was on fire with his subject. + +"You see," he continued, "that the man's days were spent amongst a class +where the passions run loose, where restraint is an unknown virtue, where +self and sensuality are the upraised gods. One can easily imagine that +from amongst such a slough might spring at any time the weed of tragedy. +In other words, this man Morris Barnes moved amongst a class of people +to whom murder, if it could be safely accomplished, would be little more +than an incident." + +The Colonel lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. He was enjoying +himself immensely. + +"The curious part of the affair is, though," he continued deliberately, +"that this murder, as I suppose we must call it, bears none of the +hall-marks of rude passion. On the contrary, it suggests in more ways +than one the touch of the finished artist. The man's whole evening has +been traced without the slightest difficulty. He dined at the Café Royal +alone, promenaded afterwards at the Alhambra, and drove on about +supper-time to the Continental. He left there at 12.30 with a couple of +ladies whom he appeared to know fairly well, called at their flat for a +drink, and sent one out to his cabby--rather unusual forethought for such +a bounder. When he reappeared and directed the man to drive him to +Cavendish Mansions, Battersea, the driver tried to excuse himself. Both +he and his horse were dead tired, he said. Barnes, however, insisted upon +keeping him, and off they went. At Cavendish Mansions, Barnes alighted +and offered the man a sovereign. Naturally enough the fellow could not +change it, and Barnes went in to get some silver from his rooms, +promising to return in a minute or two. The cabby descended and walked to +the corner of the street to see if he could beg a match for his pipe from +any passer-by. He may have been away for perhaps five minutes, certainly +no more, during which time he stood with his back to the Mansions. Seeing +no one about, he returned to his cab, ascended to his seat, naturally +without looking inside, and fell fast asleep. The next thing he remembers +is being awakened by Wrayson here! So much for the cabby." + +"What a fine criminal judge was lost to the country, Colonel, when you +chose the army for a career," Mason remarked, turning round to order some +coffee. "Such coherence--such an eye for detail. Pass the matches, +Wrayson. Thanks, old chap!" + +The Colonel smiled placidly. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that I should never have had the heart to +sentence anybody to anything, but I must admit that things of this sort +do interest me. I love to weigh them up and theorize. The more +melodramatic they are the better." + +Heneage helped himself to a cigarette from Mason's case, and leaned back +in his chair. + +"I never have the patience," he remarked, "to read about these things in +the newspapers, but the Colonel's _résumé_ is always thrilling. Do go on. +There won't be any pool till four o'clock." + +The Colonel smiled good-naturedly. + +"It's good of you fellows to listen to my prosing," he remarked. "No use +denying that it is a sort of hobby of mine. You all know it. Well, we'll +say we've finished with the cabby, then. Enter upon the scene, of all +people in the world, our friend Wrayson!" + +"Hear, hear!" murmured Mason. + +Wrayson changed his position slightly. With his head resting upon his +hand, he seemed to be engaged in tracing patterns upon the tablecloth. + +"Wrayson knows nothing of Barnes beyond the fact that they are neighbours +in the same flats. Being the assistant editor of a journal of world-wide +fame, however, he has naturally a telephone in his flat. By means of that +instrument he receives a message in the middle of the night from an +unknown person in an unknown place, which he is begged to convey to +Barnes. The message is in itself mysterious. Taken in conjunction with +what happened to Barnes, it is deeply interesting. Barnes, it seems, is +to go immediately on his arrival, at whatever hour, to the Hotel Francis. +Presumably he would know from whom the message came, and the sender does +not seem to have doubted that if it was conveyed to Barnes he would obey +the summons. Wrayson agrees to and does deliver it. That is to say, he +writes it down and leaves it in the letter-box of Barnes' door, Barnes not +having yet returned. Now we begin to get mysterious. That communication +from our friend here has not been discovered. It was not in the +letter-box; it was not upon the person of the dead man. We cannot tell +whether or not he ever received it. I believe that I am right so far?" + +"Absolutely," Wrayson admitted. + +"Our friend Wrayson, then," the Colonel continued, beaming upon his +neighbour, "instead of going to bed like a sensible man, takes up a book +and falls asleep in his easy-chair. He wakes up about three or four +o'clock, and his attention is then attracted by the jingling of a hansom +bell below. He looks out of window and sees a cab, both the driver and +the occupant of which appear to be asleep. The circumstance striking him +as somewhat unusual, he descends to the street and finds--well, rather +more than he expected. He finds the cabman asleep, and his fare +scientifically and effectually throttled by a piece of silken cord." + +Wrayson turned to the waiter and ordered a liqueur brandy. + +"Have one, you fellows?" he asked. "Good! Four, waiter." + +He tossed his own off directly it arrived. His lips were pale, and the +hand which raised the glass to his lips shook. Heneage alone, who was +watching him through a little cloud of tobacco smoke, noticed this. + +"Have you finished with me, Colonel?" Wrayson asked. + +"Practically," the Colonel answered, smiling, "unless you can answer one +of the three queries suggested by my _résumé_. First, who killed Morris +Barnes? Secondly, when was it done? Thirdly, where was it done? I have +left out a possible fourth, why was it done? because, in this case, I +think that the motive and the man are practically identical. I mean that +if you discover one, you discover the other." + +Heneage leaned across the table towards the Colonel. + +"You are a magician, Colonel," he declared quietly. "I glanced through +this case in the paper, and it did not even interest me. Since I have +listened to you I have fallen under the spell of the mysterious. Have you +any theories?" + +The Colonel's face fell a little. + +"Well, I am afraid not," he admitted regretfully. "To be perfectly +interesting the affair certainly ought to present something more definite +in the shape of a clue. You see, providing we accept the evidence of +Wrayson and the cabman, and I suppose," he added, laying his hand +affectionately upon Wrayson's shoulder, "we must, the actual murderer is +a person absolutely unseen or unheard of by any one. If you are all +really interested we will discuss it again in a week's time after the +adjourned inquest." + +"I, for one, shall look forward to it," Heneage remarked, glancing across +towards Wrayson. "What about a pool?" + +"I'm on," Wrayson declared, rising a little abruptly. + +"And I," Mason assented. + +"And I can't," the Colonel said regretfully. "I must go down to Balham +and see poor Carlo Mallini; I hear he's very queer." + +The Colonel loved pool, and he hated a sick-room. The click of the +billiard balls reached him as he descended the stairs, but he only sighed +and set out manfully for Charing Cross. On the way he entered a +fruiterer's shop and inquired the price of grapes. They were more than he +expected, and he counted out the contents of his trousers pockets before +purchasing. + +"A little short of change," he remarked cheerfully. "Yes! all right, I'll +take them." + +He marched out, swinging a paper bag between his fingers, travelled third +class to Balham, and sat for a couple of hours with the invalid whom he +had come to see, a lonely Italian musician, to whom his coming meant more +than all the medicine his doctor could prescribe. He talked to him +glowingly of the success of his recent concert (more than a score of the +tickets sold had been paid for secretly by the Colonel himself and his +friends), prophesied great things for the future, and laughed away all +the poor fellow's fears as to his condition. There were tears in his eyes +as he walked to the station, for he had visited too many sick-beds to +have much faith in his own cheerful words, and all the way back to London +he was engaged in thinking out the best means of getting the musician +sent back to his own country, Arrived at Charing Cross, he looked +longingly towards the club, and ruefully at the contents of his pocket. +Then with a sigh he turned into a little restaurant and dined for +eighteen-pence. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +UNDER A CLOUD + + +Exactly one week later, six men were smoking their after-dinner cigars at +the same round table in the dining-room at the Sheridan Club. As a rule, +it was the hour when, with all the reserve of the day thrown aside, +badinage and jest reigned supreme, and the humourist came to his own. +To-night chairs were drawn a little closer together, voices were subdued, +and the conversation was of a more serious order. Not even the pleasant +warmth of the room, the fragrance of tobacco, and the comfortable sense +of having dined, could altogether dispel a feeling of uneasiness which +all more or less shared. It chanced that all six were friends of Herbert +Wrayson's. + +The Colonel, as usual, was in the chair, but even on his kindly features +the cloud hovered. + +"Of course," he said, "none of us who know Wrayson well would believe for +a moment that he could be connected in any way with this beastly affair. +The unfortunate part of it is, that others, who do not know him, might +easily be led to think otherwise!" + +"It is altogether his own fault, too," Mason remarked. "He gave his +evidence shockingly." + +"And his movements that night, or rather that morning, were certainly a +little peculiar," another man remarked. "His connection with the affair +seemed to consist of a series of coincidences. The law does not look +favourably upon coincidences!" + +"But, after all," the Colonel remarked, "he scarcely knew the fellow! +Just nodded to him on the stairs, and that sort of thing. Why, there +isn't a shadow of a motive!" + +"We can't be sure of that, Colonel," Heneage remarked quietly. "I wonder +how much we really know of the inner lives of even our closest friends? I +fancy that we should be surprised if we realized our ignorance!" + +The Colonel stroked his grey moustache thoughtfully. + +"That may be true," he said, "of a good many of us. Wrayson, however, +never struck me as being a particularly secretive sort of chap." + +"Unfortunately, that counts for very little," Heneage declared. "The +things which surprise us most in life come often from the most unlikely +people. We none of us mean to be deceitful, but a perfectly honest life +is a luxury which few of us dare indulge in." + +The Colonel regarded him gravely. + +"I hope," he said, "that you don't mean that you consider Wrayson +capable--" + +"I wasn't thinking of Wrayson at all," Heneage interrupted. "I was +generalizing. But I must say this. I think that, given sufficient +provocation or motive, there isn't one of us who wouldn't be capable of +committing murder. A man's outer life is lived according to the laws of +circumstances and society: his inner one no one knows anything about, +except himself--and God!" + +"Heneage," Mason sighed, "is always cynical after 'kümmel.'" + +Heneage shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarette. + +"No!" he said, "I am not cynical. I simply have a weakness for the truth. +You will find it rather a hard material to collect if you set out in +earnest. But to return to Wrayson. Let me ask you a question. We are all +friends of his, more or less intimate friends. You would all of you scout +the idea of his having any share in the murder of Morris Barnes. What did +you make of his evidence at the inquest this afternoon? What do you think +of his whole deportment and condition?" + +"I can answer that in one word," the Colonel declared. "I think that it +is unfortunate. The poor fellow has been terribly upset, and his nerves +have not been able to stand the strain. That is all there is about it!" + +"Wrayson has been working up to the limit for years," Mason remarked, +"and he's not a particularly strong chap. I should say that he was about +due for a nervous breakdown." + +A waiter approached the table and addressed the Colonel--he was wanted on +the telephone. During his absence, Heneage leaned back in his chair and +relapsed into his usual imperturbability. He was known amongst his +friends generally as the silent man. It was very seldom that he +contributed so much to their discussions as upon this occasion. Perhaps +for that reason his words, when he spoke, always carried weight. Mason +changed his place and sat beside him. The others had wandered off into a +discussion upon a new magazine. + +"Between ourselves, Heneage," Mason said quietly, "have you anything at +the back of your head about Wrayson?" + +Heneage did not immediately reply. He was gazing at the little cloud of +blue tobacco smoke which he had just expelled from his lips. + +"There is no reason," he declared, "why my opinion should be worth any +more than any one else's. I think as highly of Wrayson as any of you." + +"Granted," Mason answered. "But you have a theory or an idea of some +sort concerning him. What is it?" + +"If you really want to know," Heneage said, "I believe that Wrayson has +kept something back. It is a very dangerous thing to do, and I believe +that he realizes it. I believe that he has some secret knowledge of the +affair which he has not disclosed--knowledge which he has kept out of his +evidence altogether." + +"A--guilty--knowledge?" Mason whispered. + +"Not necessarily!" Heneage answered. "He may be shielding some one." + +"If you are right," Mason said anxiously, "it is a serious affair." + +"Very serious indeed," Heneage assented. "I believe that he is +realizing it." + +The Colonel came back looking a little disturbed. + +"Sorry, boys, but I must be off," he announced. "Wrayson has just +telephoned to ask me to go down and see him. I'm afraid he's queer! I've +sent for a hansom." + +"Poor chap!" Mason murmured. "Let us know if any of us can do anything." + +The Colonel nodded and took his departure. The others drifted up into the +billiard-room. Heneage alone remained seated at the end of the table. He +was playing idly with his wineglass, but his eyes were fixed steadfastly, +if a little absently, upon the Colonel's empty place. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ON THE TELEPHONE + + +It was a little hard even for the Colonel to keep up his affectation of +cheerfulness when he found himself alone with the man whom he had come to +visit. His experience of life had been large and varied, but he had never +yet seen so remarkable a change in any human being in twenty-four hours. +There were deep black lines under his eyes, his cheeks were colourless, +every now and then his features twitched nervously, as though he were +suffering from an attack of St. Vitus' dance. His hand, which had lain +weakly in the Colonel's, was as cold as ice, although there was a roaring +fire in the room. He had admitted the Colonel himself, and almost dragged +him inside the door. + +"Did you meet any one outside--upon the stairs?" he asked feverishly. + +"No one upon the stairs," the Colonel answered. "There was a man lighting +his pipe in the doorway." + +Wrayson shivered as he turned away. + +"Watching me!" he declared. "There are two of them! They are watching me +all the time." + +The Colonel took off his coat. The room seemed to him like a furnace. +Then he stretched out his hands and laid them upon Wrayson's shoulders. + +"What if they are?" he declared cheerfully. "They won't eat you. Besides, +it is very likely the dead man's rooms they are watching." + +"They followed me home from the inquest," Wrayson muttered. + +The Colonel laughed. + +"And if I'd been living here," he remarked, "they'd have followed me +home just the same. Now, Herbert, my young friend," he continued, +"sit down and tell me all about it like a man. You're in a bit of +trouble, of course, underneath all this. Let's hear it, and we'll +find the best way out." + +The Colonel's figure was dominant; his presence alone seemed to dispel +that unreal army of ghosts and fancies which a few moments before had +seemed to Wrayson to be making his room like the padded cell of a lunatic +asylum. His tone, too, had just enough sympathy to make its cheerfulness +reassuring. Wrayson began to feel glimmerings of common sense. + +"Yes!" he said, "I've something to tell you. That's why I telephoned." + +The Colonel rose again to his feet, and began fumbling in the pocket of +his overcoat. + +"God bless my soul, I almost forgot!" he exclaimed, "and the fellows +would make me bring it. We guessed how you were feeling--much better to +have come up and dined with us. Here we are! Get some glasses, there's a +good chap." + +A gold-foiled bottle appeared, and a packet of hastily cut sandwiches. +Wrayson found himself mechanically eating and drinking before he knew +where he was. Then in an instant the sandwiches had become delicious, and +the wine was rushing through his veins like a new elixir of life. He was +himself again, the banging of anvils in his head had ceased; he was +shaken perhaps, but a sane man. His eyes filled with tears, and he +gripped the Colonel by the hand. + +"Colonel, you're--you're--God knows what you are," he murmured. "All the +ordinary things sound commonplace. I believe I was going mad." + +The Colonel leaned back and laughed as though the idea tickled him. + +"Not you!" he declared. "Bless you, I know what nerves are! Out in India, +thirty-five years ago, I've had to relieve men on frontier posts who +hadn't seen a soul to speak to for six months! Weird places some of them, +too--gives me the creeps to think of them sometimes! Now light up that +cigar," he added, throwing one across, "and let's hear the trouble." + +Wrayson lit his cigar with fingers which scarcely shook. He threw the +match away and smoked for a moment in silence. + +"It's about this Morris Barnes affair," he said abruptly. "I've kept +something back, and I'm a clumsy hand at telling a story that doesn't +contain all the truth. The consequence is, of course, that I'm suspected +of having had a hand in it myself." + +The Colonel's manner had for a moment imperceptibly changed. Lines had +come out in his face which were not usually visible, his upper lip had +stiffened. One could fancy that he might have led his men into battle +looking something like this. + +"What is it that you know?" he asked. + +"There was another person in the flats that night, who was interested in +Morris Barnes, who visited his rooms, who was with me when I first saw +him dead." + +The Colonel shaded his face with his hand. The heat from the fire +was intense. + +"Why have you kept back this knowledge?" he asked. + +"Because--it was a woman, and I am a fool!" Wrayson answered. + +There was a silence. Then the Colonel pushed back his chair and dabbed +his forehead with his handkerchief. The room was certainly hot, and the +handkerchief was wet. + +"Tell me about it," he said quietly. "I expected something of the sort!" + +"On that morning," Wrayson began, "I returned home about twelve o'clock, +let myself in with my own latch-key, and found a woman standing before my +open desk going through my papers." + +"A friend?" the Colonel asked. + +"A complete stranger!" Wrayson answered. "Her surprise at seeing me was +at least equal to my own. I gathered that she had believed herself to be +in the flat of Morris Barnes, which is the corresponding one above." + +"What did you do?" the Colonel asked. + +"What I should have done I am not sure," Wrayson answered, "but while I +was talking to her the telephone bell rang, and I received that message +which I spoke about at the inquest. It was a mysterious sort of +business--I can hear that voice now. I was interested, and while I stood +there she slipped away." + +"Is that all?" the Colonel asked. + +"No!" Wrayson answered with a groan. "I wish to God it was!" + +The Colonel moved his position a little. The cigar had burnt out between +his fingers, but he made no effort to light it. + +"Go on," he said. "Tell me the rest. Tell me what happened afterwards." + +"I wrote down the message for Barnes and left it in his letter-box. +There seemed then to be no light in his flat. Afterwards I lit a pipe, +left my door open, and sat down, with the intention of waiting till +Barnes came home and explaining what had happened. I fell asleep in my +chair and woke with a start. It was nearly three o'clock. I was going to +turn in when I heard the jingling of a hansom bell down below. I looked +out of the window and saw the cab standing in the street. Almost at the +same time I heard footsteps outside. I went to the door of my flat and +came face to face with the girl descending from the floor above." + +"At three o'clock in the morning?" the Colonel interrupted. + +Wrayson nodded. + +"She was white and shaking all over," he continued rapidly. "She asked +me for brandy and I gave it to her; she asked me to see her out of the +place, and I did so. When I opened the door to let her out and we saw +the man leaning back in the cab, she moaned softly to herself. I said +something about his being asleep or drunk--'or dead!' she whispered in +my ear, and then she rushed away from me. She turned into the Albert +Road and disappeared almost at once. I could not have followed her if I +would. I had just begun to realize that something was wrong with the man +in the cab!" + +"This is all?" the Colonel asked. + +"It is all!" Wrayson answered. + +"You do not know her name, or why she was here? You have not seen +her since?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I know absolutely nothing," he said, "beyond what I have told you." + +The Colonel struck a match and relit his cigar. + +"I should like to understand," he said quietly, "why you avoided all +mention of her in your evidence." + +Wrayson laughed oddly. + +"I should like to understand that myself," he declared. "I can only +repeat what I said before. She was a woman, and I was a fool." + +"In plain English," the Colonel said, "you did it to shield her?" + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered. + +The Colonel nodded thoughtfully. + +"Well," he said, "you were in a difficult position, and you made a +deliberate choice. I tell you frankly that I expected to hear worse +things. Do you believe that she committed the murder?" + +"No!" Wrayson answered. "I do not!" + +"You believe that she may be associated with--the person who did?" + +"I cannot tell," Wrayson declared. + +"In any case," the Colonel continued, "you seem to have been the only +person who saw her. Whether you were wise or not to omit all mention of +her in your evidence--well, we won't discuss that. The best of us have +gone on the wrong side of the hedge for a woman before now--and damned +glad to do it. What I can't quite understand, old chap, is why you have +worked yourself up into such a shocking state. You don't stand any chance +of being hanged, that I can see!" + +Wrayson laughed a little shamefacedly. + +"To tell you the truth," he said, "I am beginning to feel ashamed of +myself. I think it was the sense of being spied upon, and being +alone--in this room--which got a bit on my nerves. I feel a different man +since you came down." + +The Colonel nodded cheerfully. + +"That's all right," he declared. "The next thing to--" + +The Colonel broke off in the midst of his sentence. A few feet away from +him the telephone bell was ringing. Wrayson rose to his feet and took the +receiver into his hand. + +"Hullo!" he said. + +The voice which answered him was faint but clear. Wrayson almost dropped +the instrument. He recognized it at once. + +"Is that Mr. Herbert Wrayson?" it asked. + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered. "Who are you?" + +"I am the person who spoke to you a few nights ago," was the answer. +"Never mind my name for the present. I wish to arrange a meeting--for +some time to-morrow. I have a matter--of business--to discuss with you." + +"Anywhere--at any time," Wrayson answered, almost fiercely. "You cannot +be as anxious to see me as I am to know who you are." + +The voice changed a little in its intonation. A note of mockery had +stolen into it. + +"You flatter me," it said. "I trust that our meeting will be mutually +agreeable. You must excuse my coming to Battersea, as I understand that +your flat is subjected to a most inconvenient surveillance. May I call at +the office of your paper, at say eleven o'clock tomorrow?" + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered. "You know where it is?" + +"Certainly! I shall be there. A Mr. Bentham will ask for you. +Good night!" + +Wrayson's unknown friend had rung off. He replaced the receiver and +turned to the Colonel. + +"Do you know who that was?" he asked eagerly. + +"I can guess," the Colonel answered. + +"To-morrow, at eleven o'clock," Wrayson declared, "I shall know who +killed Morris Barnes." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ONE THOUSAND POUNDS' REWARD + + +But when the morrow came, and his visitor was shown into Wrayson's +private office, he was not quite so sure about it. Mr. Bentham had not in +the least the appearance of a murderer. Clean-shaven, a little slow in +speech, quietly dressed, he resembled more than anything a country +solicitor in moderate practice. + +He bowed in correct professional manner, and laid a brown paper parcel +upon the table. + +"I believe," he said, "that I have the honour of addressing Mr. Wrayson?" + +Wrayson nodded a little curtly. + +"And you, I suppose," he remarked, "are the owner of the mysterious +voice which summoned Morris Barnes to the Francis Hotel on the night of +his murder?" + +"It was I who spoke to you," Mr. Bentham admitted. + +"Very well," Wrayson said, "I am glad to see you. It was obvious, from +your message, that you knew of some danger which was threatening Morris +Barnes that night. It is therefore only fair to presume that you are also +aware of its source." + +"You go a little fast, sir," Mr. Bentham objected. + +"My presumption is a fair one," Wrayson declared. "You are perhaps aware +of my unfortunate connection with this affair. If so, you will understand +that I am particularly anxious to have it cleared up." + +"It is not at all certain that I can help you," his visitor said +precisely. "It depends entirely upon yourself. Will you permit me to put +my case before you?" + +"By all means," Wrayson answered. "Go ahead." + +Mr. Bentham took the chair towards which Wrayson had somewhat impatiently +pointed, and unbuttoned his coat. It was obvious that he was not a person +to be hurried. + +"In the first place, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "I must ask you distinctly to +understand that I am not addressing you on my own account. I am a lawyer, +and I am acting on behalf of a client." + +"Who is he?" Wrayson asked. "What is his name?" + +The ghost of a smile flickered across the lawyer's thin lips. + +"I am not at liberty to divulge his identity," he answered. "I am, +however, fully empowered to act for him." + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"He may find it necessary to disclose it, and before very long," he +remarked. "Well, go on." + +Mr. Bentham discreetly ignored the covert threat in Wrayson's words. + +"My mission to you, Mr. Wrayson," he declared, "is a somewhat delicate +one. It is not, in fact, connected with the actual--tragedy to which you +have alluded. My commission is to regain possession of a paper which was +stolen either from the person of Morris Barnes or from amongst his +effects, on that night." + +Wrayson looked up eagerly. + +"The motive at last!" he exclaimed. "What was the nature of this +paper, sir?" + +Mr. Bentham's eyebrows were slowly raised. + +"That," he said, "we need not enter into for the moment. The matter of +business between you and myself, or rather my client, is this. I am +authorized to offer a thousand pounds reward for its recovery." + +Wrayson was impressed, although the other's manner left him a +little puzzled. + +"Why not offer the reward for the discovery of the murderer?" he asked. +"It would come, I presume, to the same thing." + +"By no means," the lawyer answered dryly. "I am afraid that I have not +expressed myself well. My client cares nothing for Morris Barnes, dead or +alive. His interest begins and ends with the recovery of that paper." + +"But isn't it almost certain," Wrayson persisted, "that the thief and the +murderer are the same person? Your client ought to have come forward at +the inquest. The thing which has chiefly troubled the police in dealing +with this matter is the apparent lack of motive." + +"My client is not actuated in any way by philanthropic motives," Mr. +Bentham said coldly. "To tell you the truth, he does not care whether the +murderer of Morris Barnes is brought to justice or not. He is only +anxious to recover possession of the document of which I have spoken." + +"If he has a legal claim to it," Wrayson said, "he had better offer his +reward openly. He would probably help himself then, and also those who +are anxious to have this mystery solved." + +"Are you amongst those, Mr. Wrayson?" his visitor asked quietly. + +Wrayson started slightly, but he retained his self-composure. + +"I am very much amongst them," he answered. "My connection with the +affair was an extremely unpleasant one, and it will remain so until the +murderer of Morris Barnes is brought to book." + +"Or murderess," Mr. Bentham murmured softly. + +Wrayson reeled in his chair as though he had been struck a violent +and unexpected blow. He understood now the guarded menace of his +visitor's manner. He felt the man's eyes taking merciless note of his +whitening cheeks. + +"My client," the lawyer continued, "desires to ask no questions. All that +he wants is the document to which he is entitled, and which was stolen on +the night when Mr. Morris Barnes met with his unfortunate accident." + +Wrayson had pulled himself together with an effort. + +"I presume," he said, "from your frequent reiteration, that I may take +this as being to some extent a personal offer. If so, let me assure you, +sir, that so far as I am concerned I know nothing whatever of any papers +or other belongings which were in the possession of my late neighbour. I +have never seen or heard of any. I do not even know why you should have +come to me at all." + +"I came to you," Mr. Bentham said, "because I was very well aware that, +for some reason or other, your evidence at the inquest was not quite as +comprehensive as it might have been." + +"Then, for Heaven's sake, tell me all that you know!" Wrayson exclaimed. +"Take my word for it, I know nothing of this document or paper. I have +neither seen it nor heard of it. I know nothing whatever of the man or +his affairs. I can't help you. I would if I could. On the other hand, you +can throw some light upon the motive for the crime. Who is your client? +Let me go and see him for myself." + +Mr. Bentham rose to his feet, and began slowly to draw on his gloves. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he said quietly, "I am disappointed with the result of my +visit to you. I admit it frankly. You are either an extremely ingenuous +person, or a good deal too clever for me. In either case, if you will not +treat with me, I need not waste your time." + +Wrayson moved to the door and stood with his back to it. + +"I am not at all sure," he said, "that I am justified in letting you go +like this. You are in possession of information which would be invaluable +to the police in their search for the murderer of Morris Barnes." + +Mr. Bentham smiled coldly. + +"And are not you," he remarked, "in the same fortunate position--with the +unfortunate exception, perhaps, of having already given your testimony? +Of the two, if disclosures had to be made, I think that I should prefer +my own position." + +Wrayson remained where he was. + +"I am inclined," he said, "to risk it. At least you would be compelled to +disclose your client's name." + +Mr. Bentham visibly flinched. He recovered himself almost immediately, +but the shadow of fear had rested for a moment, at any rate, upon his +impassive features. + +"I am entirely at your service," he said coldly. "My client has at least +not broken the laws of his country." + +Wrayson stood away from the door. + +"You can go," he said shortly, "if you will leave me your address." + +Mr. Bentham bowed. + +"I regret that I have no card with me," he said, "but I have an office, +a single room only, in number 8, Paper Buildings, Adelphi. If you should +happen to come across--that document--" + +Wrayson held open the door. + +"If I should come to see you," he said, "it will be on other business." + + * * * * * + +Wrayson lunched at the club that morning, and received a warm greeting +from his friends. The subject of the murder was, as though by common +consent, avoided. Towards the end of the meal the Colonel received a +telegram, which he read and laid down upon the table in front of him. + +"By Jove!" he said softly, "I'd forgotten all about it. Boys, you've got +to help me out." + +"We're on," Mason declared. "What is it? a fight?" + +"It's a garden party my girls are giving to-morrow afternoon," the +Colonel answered. "I promised to take some of you down. Come, who's going +to help me out? Wrayson? Good! Heneage? Excellent! Mason? Good fellows, +all of you! Two-twenty from Waterloo, flannels and straw hats." + +The little group broke up, and the Colonel was hurried off into the +Committee Room. Wrayson and Heneage exchanged dubious glances. + +"A garden party in May!" the latter remarked. + +"Taking time by the forelock a little, isn't it?" + +Wrayson sighed resignedly. + +"It's the Colonel!" he declared. "We should have to go if it were +December!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER + + +After all, the garden party was not so bad. The weather was perfect, and +the grounds of Shirley House were large enough to find amusement for all +the guests. Wrayson, who had made great friends with the Colonel's +younger daughter, enjoyed himself immensely. After a particularly +strenuous set of tennis, she led him through the wide-open French windows +into a small morning-room. + +"We can rest for a few minutes in here," she remarked. "You can consider +it a special mark of favour, for this is my own den." + +"You are spoiling me," Wrayson declared, laughing. "May I see those +photographs?" + +"If you like," she answered, "only you mustn't be too critical, for I'm +only a beginner, you know. Here's a bookful of them you can look through, +while I go and start the next set." + +She placed a volume in his hand and swung out of the room, tall, fresh, +and graceful. Wrayson watched her admiringly. In her perfect naturalness +and unaffected good-humour, she reminded him a good deal of her father, +but curiously enough there was some other likeness which appealed to him +even more powerfully, and yet which he was unable to identify. It puzzled +him so that for a moment or two after her departure he sat watching the +door through which she had disappeared, with a slight frown upon his +forehead. She was undoubtedly charming, and yet something in connection +with her seemed to impress him with an impending sense of trouble. +Everything about her person and manners was frank and girlish, and yet +she was certainly recalling to his mind things that he had been +struggling all the afternoon to forget. Already he began to feel the +clouds of nervousness and depression stealing down upon him. He struck +the table with his clenched fist. He would have none of it. Outside was +the delicious sunshine, through the open window stole in the perfume of +the roses which covered the wall, and mignonette from the trim borders, +and stocks from the bed fringing the lawn. The murmur of pleasant +conversation was incessant and musical. For a time Wrayson had escaped. +He swore to himself that he would go back no more into bondage; that he +would dwell no more upon the horrors through which he had lived. He would +take hold of the pleasant things of life with both hands, and grip them +tightly. A man should be master of his thoughts, not the slave of +unwilling memories. He would choose for himself whither they should lead +him; he would fight with all his nerve and will against the unholy +fascination of those few thrilling hours. He looked impatiently towards +the door, and longed for the return of his late companion that he might +continue his half-laughing flirtation. Then he remembered the album still +upon his knee, and opened it quickly. He had dabbled a little in +photography; he would find something here to keep his thoughts from the +forbidden place. And he did indeed find something--something which set +his heart thumping, and drew all the colour, which the sun and vigorous +exercise had brought, from his cheeks; something at which he stared with +wide-open eyes, which he held before him with trembling, nerveless +fingers. The picture of a woman! The picture of her! + +It had lain loose in the book, with its back towards him. Only chance +made him turn it over. As he looked he understood. There was the +likeness, such likeness as there may be between a beautiful woman, a +little sad, a little scornful, with the faint lines of mockery about her +curving lips, the world-weary light in her distant eyes, and the fresh, +ingenuous girl with whom he had been bandying pleasantries during the +last few hours. He had felt it unknowingly. He realized it now, and the +thought of what it might mean made him catch at his breath like a +drowning man. Then she came in. + +He heard her gay laughter outside, a backward word flung to one of the +tennis players, as she stepped in through the window, her cheeks still +flushed, and her eyes aglow. + +"We really ought to watch this set," she declared. "That is, if you are +not too much absorbed in my handiwork. What have you got there?" + +He held it out to her with a valiant attempt at unconcern. + +"Do you mind telling me who this is?" he asked. + +She glanced at it carelessly enough, but at once her whole expression +changed. The smile left her lips, her eyes filled with trouble. + +"Where did you find it?" she asked, in a low tone. + +"In the album," he answered. "It was loose between the pages." + +She took it gently from his fingers, and crossing the room locked it +in her desk. + +"I had no idea that it was here," she said. "It is a picture of my +eldest sister, or rather my step-sister." + +The change in her manner was so apparent that, under ordinary +circumstances, Wrayson would not have dreamed of pursuing the subject. +But the conventions of life seemed to him small things just then. + +"Your step-sister!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea--shall I meet her this +afternoon?" + +"No!" she answered, gravely. "What do you say--shall we go out now?" + +She took up her racket, but he lingered. + +"Please don't think me hopelessly inquisitive, Miss Fitzmaurice," he +said, "but I have really a reason for being very interested in the +original of that picture. I should like to meet your step-sister." + +"You will never do so here, I am afraid," she answered. "My father and +she disagreed years ago. He does not allow us to see or hear from her. We +may not even mention her name." + +"Your father," Wrayson remarked thoughtfully, "is not a stern parent by +any means." + +"I should think not," she answered, smiling. "Dear old dad! I have never +heard him say an unkind word to any one in my life." + +"And yet--" Wrayson began, hesitatingly. + +"Do you mind if we don't talk any more about it?" she interrupted simply. +"I think you can understand that it is not a very pleasant subject. Do +you feel like another set, or would you rather do something else?" + +"Tennis, by all means, if you are rested," he answered. "We will find our +old opponents and challenge them again." + +Wrayson made a supreme effort, and his spirits for the rest of the +afternoon were almost boisterous. Yet all the time the nightmare was +there behind. It crept out whenever he caught sight of his host moving +about amongst his guests, beaming and kindly. His daughter! The Colonel's +daughter! What was he to do? The problem haunted him continually. All the +time he had to be pushing it back. + +The guests began to depart at last. By seven o'clock the last carriage +was rolling down the avenue. The Colonel, with a huge smile of relief, +and a large cigar, came and took Wrayson's arm. + +"Good man!" he exclaimed. "You've worked like a Trojan. We'll have one +whisky and soda, eh? and then I'll show you your room. Say when!" + +"I've enjoyed myself immensely," Wrayson declared. "Miss Edith has been +very kind to me." + +"I'm glad you've made friends with her," the Colonel said. "She's a +harum-scarum lot, I'm afraid, and a sad chatterbox, but she's the right +sort of a person for a man with nerves like you! You're looking a bit +white still, I see!" + +Wrayson would have spoken then, but his tongue seemed to cling to the +roof of his mouth. He had been asked to bring his clothes and dine, and +in the minutes' solitude while he changed, he made a resolute effort to +face this new problem. There was not the slightest doubt in his mind that +the girl whom he had surprised in his rooms, ransacking his desk, and +whom subsequently he had assisted to escape from the Mansions, was +identical with the original of this portrait. She was the Colonel's +daughter. With a flash of horror, he remembered that it had been the +Colonel himself who had pointed out the possibility of a woman's hands +having drawn that silken cord together! Half dressed he sat down in a +chair and buried his face in his hands. + +The dinner gong disturbed him. He sprang up, tied his tie with trembling +fingers, and hastily completed his toilet. Once more, with a great +effort, and an almost reckless resort to his host's champagne, he +triumphed over the demons of memory which racked his brain. At dinner his +gayety was almost feverish. Edith Fitzmaurice, who was his neighbour, +found him a delightful companion. Only the Colonel glanced towards him +now and then anxiously. He recognized the signs of high-pressure, and the +light in Wrayson's eyes puzzled him. + +There were no other men dining, and in course of time the two were left +alone. The Colonel passed the cigars and touched the port wine decanter, +which, however, he only offered in a half-hearted way. + +"If you don't care about any more wine," he said, "we might have a smoke +in the garden." + +Wrayson rose at once. + +"I should like it," he said abruptly. "I don't know how it is, but I seem +half-stifled to-day." + +They passed out into the soft, cool night. A nightingale was singing +somewhere in the elm trees which bordered the garden. The air was sweet +with the perfume of early summer flowers. Wrayson drew a long, deep +breath of content. + +"Let us sit down, Colonel," he said; "I have something to tell you." + +The Colonel led the way to a rustic seat. A few stars were out, but no +moon. In the dusky twilight, the shrubs and trees beyond stood out with +black and almost startling distinctness against the clear sky. + +"You remember the girl--I told you about, whom I found in my flat, and +afterwards?" Wrayson asked hoarsely. + +The Colonel nodded. + +"Certainly! What about her? To tell you the truth, I am afraid I--" + +Wrayson stopped him with a quick, fierce exclamation. + +"Don't, Colonel!" he said. "Wait until you have heard what I have to say. +I have seen her picture--to-day." + +The Colonel removed his cigar from his mouth. + +"Her picture!" he exclaimed. "To-day! Where? My dear fellow, this is very +interesting! You know my opinion as to that young--" + +Again Wrayson stopped him, this time with an oath. + +"In your house, Colonel," he said. "Your daughter showed it to me--in +an album!" + +The Colonel sat like a man turned to stone. The hand which held his cigar +shook so that the ash fell upon his waistcoat. + +"Go on!" he faltered. + +"I asked who it was. I was told that it was your daughter! Miss Edith's +step-sister! Forgive me, Colonel! I had to tell you!" + +The Colonel seemed to have shrunk in his place. The cigar slipped from +his fingers and fell unheeded on to the grass. His mouth trembled and +twitched pitifully. + +"My--my daughter Louise!" he faltered. "Wrayson, you are not serious!" + +"It is God's truth," Wrayson answered. "I would stake my soul upon it +that the girl--I told you about--was the original of that picture! When I +look at your daughter Edith I can see the likeness." + +The Colonel's head was buried in his hands. His exclamation sounded +like a sob. + +"My God!" he murmured. + +Then there was silence. Only the nightingale went on with his song. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE BARONESS INTERVENES + + +The Baroness trifled with some grapes and looked languidly round the +room. + +"My dear Louise," she declared, "it is the truth what every one tells me +of your country. You are a dull people. I weary myself here." + +The girl whom she had addressed as Louise shrugged her shoulders. + +"So do I, so do all of us," she answered, a little wearily. "What would +you have? One must live somewhere." + +The Baroness sighed, and from a chatelaine hung with elegant trifles +selected a gold cigarette case. An attentive waiter rushed for a match +and presented it. The Baroness gave a little sigh of content as she +leaned back in her chair. She smoked as one to the manner born. + +"One must live somewhere, it is true," she agreed, "but why London? I +think that of all great cities it is the most provincial. It lacks what +you call the atmosphere. The people are all so polite, and so deadly, +deadly dull. How different in Paris or Berlin, even Brussels!" + +"Circumstances are a little against us, aren't they?" Louise remarked. +"Our opportunities for making acquaintances are limited." + +The Baroness made a little grimace. + +"You, my young friend," she said, "are of the English--very English. +Quite Saxon, in fact. With you there would never be any making of +acquaintances! I feel myself in the bonds of a cast-iron chaperonage +whenever I move out with you. Why is it, little one? Have you never any +desire to amuse yourself?" + +"I don't quite understand you," her companion answered dryly. "If you +mean that I have no desire to encourage promiscuous acquaintances, you +are certainly right. I prefer to be dull." + +The Baroness sighed gently. + +"Some of my dearest friends," she murmured, "I have--but there, it is a +subject upon which we disagree. We will talk of something else. Shall we +go to the theatre to-night?" + +"As you will," Louise answered indifferently. "There isn't much that we +haven't seen, is there?" + +"We will send for a paper and see," the Baroness said. "We cannot sit and +look at one another all the evening. With music one can make dinner last +out till nine or even half past--an idea, my Louise!" she exclaimed +suddenly. "Cannot we go to a music-hall, the Alhambra, for example? We +could take a box and sit back." + +"It is not customary," Louise declared coldly. "If you really wish it, +though, I don't--I don't--" + +Her speech was broken off in a somewhat extraordinary manner. She was +leaning a little forward in her chair, all her listlessness and pallor +seemed to have been swept away by a sudden rush of emotion. The colour +had flooded her cheeks, her tired eyes were suddenly bright; was it with +fear or only surprise? The Baroness wasted no time in asking questions. +She raised her lorgnettes and turned round, facing the direction in +which Louise was looking. Coming directly towards them from the further +end of the restaurant was a young man, whose eyes never swerved from +their table. He was pale, somewhat slight, but the lines of his mouth +were straight and firm, and there was not lacking in him that air of +distinction which the Baroness never failed to recognize. She put down +her glasses and looked across at Louise with a smile. She was quite +prepared to approve. + +The young man stopped at their table and addressed himself directly to +Louise. The Baroness frowned as she saw how scanty were the signs of +encouragement in her young companion's face. She leaned a little forward, +ready at the first signs of an introduction to make every effort to atone +for Louise's coldness by a most complete amiability. This young man +should not be driven away if she could help it! + +"I have been hoping, Miss Fitzmaurice," Wrayson said calmly, "that I +might meet you somewhere." + +She shrank a little back for a moment. There flashed across her face a +quiver, as though of pain. + +"Why do you think," she asked, "that that is my name?" + +"Your father, Colonel Fitzmaurice, is one of my best friends," he +answered gravely. "I was at his house yesterday. I only came up this +morning. I beg your pardon! You are not well!" + +Every vestige of colour had left her cheeks. The Baroness touched her +foot under the table, and Louise found her voice with an effort. + +"How did you know that Colonel Fitzmaurice was my father?" she asked +breathlessly. + +"I found a picture in your sister's album," he answered. + +The answer seemed somehow to reassure her. She leaned a little towards +him. Under cover of the music her voice was inaudible to any one else. + +"Mr. Wrayson," she said, "please don't think me unkind. I know that I +have a great deal to thank you for, and that there are certain +explanations which you have almost a right to demand from me. And yet I +ask you to go away, to ask me nothing at all, to believe me when I assure +you that there is nothing in the world so undesirable as any acquaintance +between you and me." + +Wrayson was staggered, the words were so earnestly spoken, and the look +which accompanied them was so eloquent. He was never sure, when he +thought it over afterwards, what manner of reply he might not have made +to an appeal, the genuineness of which was absolutely convincing. But +before he could frame an answer, the Baroness intervened. + +"Louise," she said softly, "do you not think that this place is a +little public for intimate conversation, and will you not introduce to +me your friend?" + +Wrayson, who had been afraid of dismissal, turned at once, almost +eagerly, towards the Baroness. She smiled at him graciously. Louise +hesitated for a moment. There was no smile upon her lips. She bowed, +however, to the inevitable. + +"This is Mr. Wrayson," she said quietly; "the Baroness de Sturm." + +The Baroness raised her eyebrows, and she bestowed upon Wrayson a +comprehending look. The graciousness of her manner, however, underwent no +abatement. + +"I fancy," she said, "that I have heard of you somewhere lately, or is +it another of the same name? Will you not sit down and take your coffee +with us--and a cigarette--yes?" + +"We are keeping Mr. Wrayson from his friends, no doubt," Louise said +coldly. "Besides--do you see the time, Amy?" + +But Wrayson had already drawn up a chair to the table. + +"I am quite alone," he said. "If I may stay, I shall be delighted." + +"Why not?" the Baroness asked, passing her cigarette case. "You can solve +for us the problem we were just then discussing. Is it _comme-il-faut,_ +Mr. Wrayson, for two ladies, one of whom is almost middle-aged, to visit +a music-hall here in London unescorted?" + +Wrayson glanced from Louise to her friend. + +"May I inquire," he asked blandly, "which is the lady who is posing as +being almost middle-aged?" + +The Baroness laughed at him softly, with a little contraction of the +eyebrows, which she usually found effective. + +"We are going to be friends, Mr. Wrayson," she declared. "You are +sitting there in fear and trembling, and yet you have dared to pay a +compliment, the first I have heard for, oh! so many months. Do not be +afraid. Louise is not so terrible as she seems. I will not let her send +you away. Now you must answer my question. May we do this terrible +thing, Louise and I?" + +"Assuredly not," he answered gravely, "when there is a man at hand who is +so anxious to offer his escort as I." + +The Baroness clapped her hands. + +"Do you hear, Louise?" she exclaimed. + +"I hear," Louise answered dryly. + +The Baroness made a little grimace. + +"You are in an impossible humour, my dear child," she declared. +"Nevertheless, I declare for the music-hall, and for the escort of your +friend, Mr. Wrayson, if he really is in earnest." + +"I can assure you," he said, "that you would be doing me a great kindness +in allowing me to offer my services." + +The Baroness beamed upon him amiably, and rose to her feet. + +"You have come," she avowed, "in time to save me from despair. I am not +used to go about so much unescorted, and I am not so independent as +Louise. See," she added, pushing a gold purse towards him, "you shall pay +our bill while we put on our cloaks. And will you ask afterwards for my +carriage, and we will meet in the portico?" + +"With pleasure!" Wrayson answered, rising to his feet as they left the +table. "I will telephone for a box to the Alhambra. There is a wonderful +new ballet which every one is going to see." + +He called the waiter and paid the bill from a remarkably well-filled +purse. As he replaced the change, it was impossible for him to avoid +seeing a letter addressed and stamped ready for posting, which occupied +one side of the gold bag. The name upon the envelope struck him as being +vaguely familiar; what had he heard lately of Madame de Melbain? It was +associated somehow in his mind with a recent event. It lingered in his +memory for days afterwards. + +Louise and the Baroness left the room in silence. In the cloak-room the +latter watched her friend curiously as she arranged her wrap. + +"So that is Mr. Wrayson," she remarked. + +"Yes!" Louise answered deliberately. "I wish that you had let him go!" + +The Baroness laughed softly. + +"My dear child," she protested, "why? He seems to me quite a personable +young man, and he may be useful! Who can tell?" + +Louise shrugged her shoulders. She stood waiting while the Baroness made +somewhat extensive use of her powder-puff. + +"You forget," she said quietly, "that I am already in Mr. Wrayson's debt +pretty heavily." + +The Baroness looked quickly around. She considered her young friend a +little indiscreet. + +"I find you amusing, _ma chère_," she remarked. "Since when have you +developed scruples?" + +Louise turned towards the door. + +"You do not understand," she said. "Come!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A BOX AT THE ALHAMBRA + + +The Baroness lowered her lorgnettes and turned towards Wrayson. + +"There is a man," she remarked, "in the stalls, who finds us apparently +more interesting than the performance. I do not see very well even +with my glasses, but I fancy, no! I am quite sure, that his face is +familiar to me." + +Wrayson leaned forward from his seat in the back of the box and looked +downward. There was no mistaking the person indicated by the Baroness, +nor was it possible to doubt his obvious interest in their little party. +Wrayson frowned slightly as he returned his greeting. + +"Ah, then, you know him," the Baroness declared. "It is a friend, +without doubt." + +"He belongs to my club," Wrayson answered. "His name is Heneage. I beg +your pardon! I hope that wasn't my fault." + +The Baroness had dropped her lorgnettes on the floor. She stooped +instantly to discover them, rejecting almost peremptorily Wrayson's aid. +When she sat up again she pushed her chair a little further back. + +"It was my clumsiness entirely," she declared. "Ah! it is more restful +here. The lights are a little trying in front. You are wiser than I, my +dear Louise, to have chosen a seat back there." + +She turned towards the girl as she spoke, and Wrayson fancied that there +was some subtle meaning in the swift glance which passed between the two. +Almost involuntarily he leaned forward once more and looked downwards. +Heneage's inscrutable face was still upturned in their direction. There +was nothing to be read there, not even curiosity. As the eyes of the two +men met, Heneage rose and left his seat. + +"You know my friend, perhaps?" Wrayson remarked. "He is rather an +interesting person." + +The Baroness shrugged her shoulders. + +"We are cosmopolitans, Louise and I," she remarked. "We wander about so +much that we meet many people whose names even we do not remember. Is it +not so, _chérie_?" + +Louise assented carelessly. The incident appeared to have interested her +but slightly. She alone seemed to be taking an interest in the +performance, which from the first she had followed closely. More than +once Wrayson had fancied that her attention was only simulated, in order +to avoid conversation. + +"This ballet," she remarked, "is wonderful. I don't believe that you +people have seen any of it--you especially, Amy." + +The Baroness glanced towards the stage. + +"My dear Louise," she said, "you share one great failing with the +majority of your country-people. You cannot do more than one thing at a +time. Now I can watch and talk. Truly, the dresses are ravishing. +Doucet never conceived anything more delightful than that blend of +greens! Tell me about your mysterious-looking friend, Mr. Wrayson. Is +he, too, an editor?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"To tell you the truth," he said, "I know very little about him. He is +one of those men who seldom talk about themselves. He is a barrister, and +he has written a volume of travels. A clever fellow, I believe, but +possibly without ambition. At any rate, one never hears of his doing +anything now." + +"Perhaps," the Baroness remarked, with her eyes upon the stage, "he is +one of those who keep their own counsel, in more ways than one. He does +not look like a man who has no object in life." + +Wrayson glanced downwards at the empty stall. + +"Very likely," he admitted carelessly, "and yet, nowadays, it is a little +difficult, isn't it, to do anything really worth doing, and not be found +out? They say that the press is lynx-eyed." + +Louise leaned a little forward in her chair. + +"And you," she remarked, "are an editor! Do you feel quite safe, Amy? Mr. +Wrayson may rob us of our most cherished secrets." + +Her eyes challenged his, her lips were parted in a slight smile. +Underneath the levity of her remark, he was fully conscious of the +undernote of serious meaning. + +"I am not afraid of Mr. Wrayson," the Baroness answered, smiling. "My age +and my dressmaker are the only two things I keep entirely to myself, and +I don't think he is likely to guess either." + +"And you?" he asked, looking into her companion's eyes. + +"There are many things," she answered, in a low tone, "which one keeps +to oneself, because confidences with regard to them are impossible. +And yet--" + +She paused. Her eyes seemed to be following out the mystic design painted +upon her fan. + +"And yet?" he reminded her under his breath. + +"Yet," she continued, glancing towards the Baroness, and lowering her +voice as though anxious not to be overheard, "there is something +poisonous, I think, about secrets. To have them known without disclosing +them would be very often--a great relief." + +He leaned a little towards her. + +"Is that a challenge?" he asked, "if I can find out?" + +The colour left her face with amazing suddenness. She drew away from him +quickly. Her whisper was almost a moan. + +"No! for God's sake, no!" she murmured. "I meant nothing. You must not +think that I was speaking about myself." + +"I hoped that you were," he answered simply. + +The Baroness turned in her chair as though anxious to join in the +conversation. At that moment came a knock at the door of the box. Wrayson +rose and opened it. Heneage stood there and entered at once, as though +his coming were the most natural thing in the world. + +"Thought I recognized you," he remarked, shaking hands with Wrayson. "I +believe, too, I may be mistaken, but I fancy that I have had the pleasure +of meeting the Baroness de Sturm." + +The Baroness turned towards him with a smile. Nevertheless, Wrayson +noticed what seemed to him a strange thing. The slim-fingered, bejewelled +hand which rested upon the ledge of the box was trembling. The Baroness +was disturbed. + +"At Brussels, I believe," she remarked, inclining her head graciously. + +"At Brussels, certainly," he answered, bowing low. + +She turned to Louise. + +"Louise," she said, "you must let me present Mr. Heneage--Miss Deveney. +Mr. Heneage has a cousin, I believe, of the same name, in the Belgian +Legation. I remember seeing you dance with him at the Palace." + +The two exchanged greetings. Heneage accepted a chair and spoke of the +performance. The conversation became general and of stereotyped form. Yet +Wrayson was uneasily conscious of something underneath it all which he +could not fathom. The atmosphere of the box was charged with some +electrical disturbance. Heneage alone seemed thoroughly at his ease. He +kept his seat until the close of the performance, and even then seemed in +no hurry to depart. Wrayson, however, took his cue from the Baroness, who +was obviously anxious for him to go. + +"Goodnight, Heneage!" he said. "I may see you at the club later." + +Heneage smiled a little oddly as he turned away. + +"Perhaps," he said. + +It was not until they were on their way out that Wrayson realized that +she was slipping away from him once more. Then he took his courage into +his hands and spoke boldly. + +"I wonder," he said, "if I might be allowed to see you ladies home. I +have something to say to Miss Fitzmaurice," he added simply, turning to +the Baroness. + +"By all means," she answered graciously, "if you don't mind rather an +uncomfortable seat. We are staying in Battersea. It seems a long way out, +but it is quiet, and Louise and I like it." + +"In Battersea?" Wrayson repeated vaguely. + +The Baroness looked over her shoulder. They were standing on the +pavement, waiting for their electric brougham. + +"Yes!" she answered, dropping her voice a little, "in Frederic Mansions. +By the bye, we are neighbours, I believe, are we not?" + +"Quite close ones," Wrayson answered. "I live in the next block of +flats." + +The Baroness looked again over her shoulder. + +"Your friend, Mr. Heneage, is close behind," she whispered, "and we are +living so quietly, Louise and I, that we do not care for callers. Tell +the man 'home' simply." + +Wrayson obeyed, and the carriage glided off. Heneage had been within a +few feet of them when they had started, and although his attention +appeared to be elsewhere, the Baroness' caution was obviously justified. +She leaned back amongst the cushions with a little sigh of relief. + +"Mr. Wrayson," she inquired, "may I ask if Mr. Heneage is a particular +friend of yours?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I do not think that any man could call himself Heneage's particular +friend," he answered. "He is exceedingly reticent about himself and his +doings. He is a man whom none of us know much of." + +The Baroness leaned a little forward. + +"Mr. Heneage," she said slowly, "is associated in my mind with days and +events which, just at present, both Louise and I are only anxious to +forget. He may be everything that he should be. Perhaps I am +prejudiced. But if I were you, I would have as little to do as possible +with that man." + +"We do not often meet," Wrayson answered, "and ours is only a club +acquaintanceship. It is never likely to be more." + +"So much the better," the Baroness declared. "Don't you agree with +me, Louise?" + +"I do not like Mr. Heneage," the girl answered. "But then, I have never +spoken a dozen words to him in my life." + +"You have known him intimately?" Wrayson asked the Baroness. + +She shrugged her shoulders and looked out of the window. + +"Never that, quite," she answered. "I know enough of him, however, to be +quite sure that the advice which I have given you is good." + +The carriage drew up in the Albert Road, within a hundred yards or so of +Wrayson's own block of flats. The Baroness alighted first. + +"You must come in and have a whisky and soda," she said to Wrayson. + +"If I may," he answered, looking at Louise. + +The Baroness passed on. Louise, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, +followed her. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +OUTCAST + + +The room into which a waiting man servant showed them was large and +handsomely furnished. Whisky and soda, wine and sandwiches were upon the +sideboard. The Baroness, stopping only to light a cigarette, moved +towards the door. + +"I shall return," she said, "in a quarter of an hour." + +She looked for a moment steadily at her friend, and then turned away. +Louise strolled to the sideboard and helped herself to a sandwich. + +"Come and forage, won't you?" she asked carelessly. "There are some +_pâté_ sandwiches here, and you want whisky and soda, of course--or do +you prefer brandy?" + +"Neither, thanks!" Wrayson answered firmly. "I want what I came for. +Please sit down here and answer my questions." + +She laughed a little mockingly, and turning round, faced him, her head +thrown back, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly. The light from a +rose-shaded electric lamp glittered upon her hair. She was wearing black +again, and something in her appearance and attitude almost took his +breath away. It reminded him of the moment when he had seen her first. + +"First," she said, "I am going to ask you a question. Why did you do it?" + +"Do what?" he asked. + +She gave vent to a little gesture of impatience. He must know quite well +what she meant. + +"Why did you give evidence at the inquest and omit all mention of me?" + +"I don't know," he answered bluntly. + +"You have committed yourself to a story," she reminded him, "which is +certainly not altogether a truthful one. You have run a great risk, +apparently to shield me. Why?" + +"I suppose because I am a fool," he answered bitterly. + +She shook her head. + +"No!" she declared, "that is not the reason." + +He moved a step nearer to her. + +"If I were to admit my folly," he said, "what difference would it +make--if I were to tell you that I did it to save you--the inconvenience +of an examination into the motive for your presence in Morris Barnes' +rooms that night--what then?" + +"It was generous of you," she declared softly. "I ought to thank you." + +"I want no thanks," he answered, almost roughly. "I want to know that I +was justified in what I did. I want you to tell me what you were doing +there alone in the rooms of such a man, with a stolen key. And I want you +to tell me what you know about his death." + +"Is that all?" she asked. + +"Isn't it enough?" he declared savagely. "It is enough to be making an +old man of me, anyhow." + +"You have a right to ask these questions," she admitted slowly, "and I +have no right to refuse to answer them." + +"None at all," he declared. "You shall answer them." + +There was a moment's silence. She leaned a little further back against +the sideboard. Her eyes were fixed upon his, but her face was +inscrutable. + +"I cannot," she said slowly. "I can tell you nothing." + +Wrayson was speechless for a moment. It was not only the words +themselves, but the note of absolute finality with which they were +uttered, which staggered him. Then he found himself laughing, a sound +so unnatural and ominous that, for the first time, fear shone in the +girl's eyes. + +"Don't," she cried, and her hands flashed towards him for a moment +as though the sight of him hurt her. "Don't be angry! Have pity on +me instead." + +His nerves, already overwrought, gave way. + +"Pity on a murderess, a thief!" he cried. "Not I! I have suffered enough +for my folly. I will go and tell the truth to-morrow. It was you who +killed him. You did it in the cab and stole back to his rooms to +rob--afterwards. Horrible! Horrible!" + +Her face hardened. His lack of self-control seemed to stimulate her. + +"Have it so," she declared. "I never asked you for your silence. If you +repent it, go and make the best bargain you can with the law. They will +let you off cheaply in exchange for your information!" + +He walked the length of the room and back. Anything to escape from her +eyes. Already he hated the words which he had spoken. When he faced her +again he was master of himself. + +"Listen," he said; "I was a little overwrought. I spoke wildly. I have no +right to make such an accusation. But--" + +She held out her hand as though to stop him, but he went steadily on. + +"But I have a right to demand that you tell me the truth as to what you +were doing in Barnes' rooms that night, and what you know of his death. +Remember that but for me you would have had to tell your story to a less +sympathetic audience." + +"I never forget it," she answered, and for the first time her change to a +more natural tone helped him to believe in himself and his own judgment. +"If you want me to tell you how grateful I am, I might try, but it would +be a very hard task." + +"All that I ask of you," he pleaded, "is that you tell me enough to +convince me that my silence was justified. Tell me at least that you had +no knowledge of or share in that man's death!" + +"I cannot do that," she answered. + +He took a quick step backwards. The horror once more was chilling his +blood, floating before his eyes. + +"You cannot!" he repeated hoarsely. + +"No! I knew that the man was in danger of his life," she went on, calmly. +"On the whole, I think that he deserved to die. I do not mind telling you +this, though. I would have saved him if I could." + +He drew a great breath of relief. + +"You had nothing to do with his actual death, then?" + +"Nothing whatever," she declared. + +"It was all I asked you, this," he cried reproachfully. "Why could you +not have told me before?" + +She shook her head. + +"You asked me other things," she answered calmly. "So much of the truth +you shall know, at any rate. I have pleaded not guilty to the material +action of drawing that cord around the worthless neck of the man whom you +knew as Morris Barnes. I plead guilty to knowing why he was murdered, +even if I do not know the actual person who committed the deed, and I +admit that I was in his rooms for the purpose of robbery. That is all I +can tell you." + +He drew a little nearer to her. + +"Enough! Do you know what it is that you have said? What are you? +Who are you?" + +She shrugged her shoulders. Somehow, from her side at least, the tragical +note which had trembled throughout their interview had passed away. She +helped herself to soda water from a siphon on the sideboard. + +"You appear, somewhat to my surprise," she remarked, "to know that. I +wonder at poor little Edith giving me away." + +"All that I know is that you are living here under a false name," +he declared. + +She shook her head. + +"My mother's," she told him. "The discarded daughter always has a right +to that, you know." + +Her eyes mocked him. He felt himself helpless. This was the opportunity +for which he had longed, and it had come to him in vain. He recognized +the fact that his defeat was imminent. She was too strong for him. + +"I am disappointed," he said, a little wearily. "You will not let me +believe in you." + +"Why should you wish to?" she asked quickly + +Almost immediately she bit her lip, as though she regretted the words, +which had escaped her almost involuntarily. But he was ready enough with +his answer. + +"I cannot tell you that," he said gravely. "I never thought of myself as +a particularly emotional person. In fact, I have always rather prided +myself on my common sense. That night I think that I went a little mad. +Your appearance, you see, was so unusual." + +She nodded. + +"I must have been rather a shock to you," she admitted. + +She watched him closely. The fire in his eyes was not yet quenched. + +"Yes!" he said, "you were a shock. And the worst of it is--that you +remain one!" + +"Ah!" + +"You mean to keep me at arm's length," he said slowly, "to tell me as +little as possible, and get rid of me. I am not sure that I am willing." + +She only raised her eyebrows. She said nothing. + +"You have told me nothing of the things I want to know," he cried +passionately. "Who and what are you? What place do you hold in the +world?" + +"None," she answered quietly. "I am an outcast." + +He glanced around him. + +"You are rich!" + +"On the contrary," she assured him, "I am nearly a pauper." + +"How do you live, then?" he asked breathlessly. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Why do you ask me these questions?" she said. "I cannot answer them. +Whatever my life may be, I live it to myself." + +He leaned a little towards her. His breath was coming quickly, and she, +too, caught something of the nervous excitement of his manner. + +"There are better things," he began. + +"Not for me," she interrupted quickly. "I tell you that I am an +outcast. Of you, I ask only that you go away--now--before the Baroness +returns, and do your best to blot out the memory of that one night +from your life. Remember only that you did a generous action. Remember +that, and no more." + +"Too late," he answered; "I cannot do it." + +"You are a man," she answered, "and you say that?" + +"It is because I am a man, and you are what you are, that I cannot," he +answered slowly. + +There was a moment's breathless silence. Only he fancied that her face +had somehow grown softer. + +"You must not talk like that," she said. "You do not know what you are +saying--who or what I am. Listen! I think I hear the Baroness." + +She leaned a little forward, and the madness fired his blood. Half +stupefied, she yielded to his embrace, her lips rested upon his, her +frightened eyes were half closed. His arms held her like a vice, he could +feel her heart throbbing madly against his. How long they remained like +it he never knew--who can measure the hours spent in Paradise! She flung +him from her at last, taking him by surprise with a sudden burst of +energy, and before he could stop her she had left the room. In her place, +the Baroness was standing upon the threshold, dressed in a wonderful blue +wrapper, and with a cigarette between her teeth. She burst into a little +peal of laughter as she looked into his distraught face. + +"For an Englishman," she remarked, "you are a little rapid in your +love affairs, my dear Mr. Wrayson, is it not so? So she has left you +_planté là_!" + +"I--was mad," Wrayson muttered. + +The Baroness helped herself to whisky and soda. + +"Come again and make your peace, my friend," she said. "You will see no +more of her to-night." + +Wrayson accepted the hint and went. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +FALSE SENTIMENT + + +With his nerves strung to their utmost point of tension Wrayson walked +homeward with the unseeing eyes and mechanical footsteps of a man unable +as yet fully to collect his scattered senses. But for him the events of +the evening were not yet over. He had no sooner turned the key in the +latch of his door and entered his sitting-room, than he became aware of +the fact that he had a visitor. The air was fragrant with tobacco smoke; +a man rose deliberately from the easy-chair, and, throwing the ash from +his cigarette into the fire, turned to greet him. Wrayson was so +astonished that he could only gasp out his name. + +"Heneage!" he exclaimed. + +Heneage nodded. Of the two, he was by far the more at his ease. + +"I wanted to see you, Wrayson," he said, "and I persuaded your +housekeeper--with some difficulty--to let me wait for your arrival. Can +you spare me a few minutes?" + +"Of course," Wrayson answered. "Sit down. Will you have anything?" + +Heneage shook his head. + +"Not just now, thanks!" + +Wrayson took off his hat and coat, threw them upon the table, and lit a +cigarette. + +"Well," he said, "what is it?" + +"I have come," Heneage said quietly, "to offer you some very good +advice. You are run down, and you look it. You need a change. I should +recommend a sea voyage, the longer the better. They say that your paper +is making a lot of money. Why not a voyage round the world?" + +"What the devil do you mean?" Wrayson asked. + +Heneage flicked off the ash from his cigarette, and looked for a moment +thoughtfully into the fire. + +"Three weeks ago last Thursday, I think it was," he began, reflectively, +"I had supper with Austin at the Green Room Club, after the theatre. He +persuaded me, rather against my will, I remember, for I was tired that +night, to go home with him and make a fourth at bridge. Austin's flat, as +you know, is just below here, on the Albert Road." + +Wrayson stopped smoking. The cigarette burned unheeded between his +fingers. His eyes were fixed upon his visitor. + +"Go on," he said. + +"We played five rubbers," Heneage continued, still looking into the fire; +"it may have been six. I left somewhere in the small hours of the +morning, and walked along the Albert Road on the unlit side of the +street. As I passed the corner here, I saw a hansom waiting before your +door, and you--with somebody else, standing on the pavement." + +"Anything else?" Wrayson demanded. + +"No!" Heneage answered. "I saw you, I saw the lady, and I saw the cab. +It was a cold morning, and I am not naturally a curious person. I +hurried on." + +Wrayson picked up the cigarette, which had fallen from his fingers, and +sat down. He could scarcely believe that this was not a dream--that it +was indeed Stephen Heneage who sat opposite to him, Heneage the +impenetrable, whose calm, measured words left no indication whatever as +to his motive in making this amazing revelation. + +"You are naturally wondering," Heneage continued, "why, having seen what +I did see, I kept silence. I followed your lead, because I fancied, in +the first place, that the presence of that young lady was a personal +affair of your own, and that she could have no possible connection with +the tragedy itself. You were evidently disposed to shield her and +yourself at the same time. I considered your attitude reasonable, if a +little dangerous. No man is obliged to give himself away in matters of +this sort, and I am no scandalmonger. The situation, however, has +undergone a change." + +Wrayson looked up quickly. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +"To-night," Heneage said calmly, "I recognized your nocturnal visitor +with the Baroness de Sturm. + +"And what of that?" Wrayson demanded. + +Heneage, who was leaning back in his chair, looking into the fire with +half closed eyes, straightened himself, and turned directly towards his +companion. + +"How much do you know about the Baroness de Sturm?" he asked. + +"Nothing at all," Wrayson answered. "I met her for the first time +to-night." + +Heneage looked back into the fire. + +"Ah!" he murmured. "I thought that it might be so. The young lady is +perhaps an old friend?" + +"I cannot discuss her," Wrayson answered. "I can only say that I will +answer for her innocence as regards any complicity in the murder of +Morris Barnes." + +Heneage nodded sympathetically. + +"Still," he remarked, "the man was murdered." + +"I suppose so," Wrayson admitted. + +"And in a most mysterious manner," Heneage continued. "You have gathered, +I dare say, from your knowledge of me, that these affairs always interest +me immensely. I am almost as great a crank as the Colonel. I have been +thinking over this case a great deal, but I must confess that up to +to-night I have not been able to see a gleam of daylight. I had dismissed +the young lady from my mind. Now, however, I cannot do so." + +"Simply because you saw her with the Baroness de Sturm?" Wrayson asked. + +"They are living together," Heneage reminded him, "a condition which +naturally makes for a certain amount of intimacy." + +"Do you know anything against the Baroness?" Wrayson demanded. + +"Against her?" Heneage repeated thoughtfully. "Well, that depends." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that she is an adventuress?" Wrayson +asked bluntly. + +"Certainly not," Heneage replied. "She is a representative of one of the +oldest families in Europe, a _persona grata_ at the Court of her country, +and an intimate friend of Queen Helena's. She is by no means an +adventuress." + +"Then why," Wrayson asked, "should you attach such significance to the +fact of her friendship with Miss Deveney?" + +"Because," Heneage remarked, lighting another cigarette, "I happen to +know that the Baroness is at present under the strictest police +surveillance!" + +Wrayson started. Heneage's first statement had reassured him: his later +one was simply terrifying. He stared at his visitor in dumb alarm. + +"I came to know of this in rather a curious way," Heneage continued. "My +information, in fact, came direct from her own country. She is being +watched with extraordinary care, in connection with some affair of which +I must confess that I know nothing. She is staying in London, a city +which I happen to know she detests, without any ostensible reason. Of all +parts, she has chosen Battersea as a place of residence. It is her +companion whom I saw leaving your flat at three o'clock on the morning of +Barnes' murder. I am bound to say, Wrayson, that I find these facts +interesting." + +"Why have you come to me?" Wrayson asked. "What are you going to do +about them?" + +"I am going to set myself the task of solving the mystery of Morris +Barnes' death," Heneage answered calmly. "If I succeed, I am very much +afraid that, directly or indirectly, the presence of Miss Deveney in the +flats that night will become known." + +"And you advise me, therefore," Wrayson remarked, "to take a voyage--in +plain words, to clear out." + +"Exactly," Heneage agreed. + +Wrayson threw his cigarette angrily into the fire. + +"What the devil business is it of yours?" he demanded. + +Heneage looked at him steadily. + +"Wrayson," he said, "I am sorry that you should use that tone with me. I +am no moralist. I admit frankly that I take this matter up because my +personal tastes prompt me to. But murder, however great the provocation, +is an indefensible thing." + +"I am not seeking to justify it," Wrayson declared. + +"I am glad to hear that," Heneage answered. "I cannot believe, either, +that you would shield any one directly or indirectly connected with such +a crime. I am going to ask you, therefore, to tell me what Miss Deveney +was doing in these flats on that particular evening." + +Wrayson was silent. In the light of what he had just been told about the +Baroness, he knew very well how Heneage would regard the truth. Of +course, she was innocent, innocent of the deed itself and of all +knowledge of it. But Heneage did not know her; he would be hard to +convince. So Wrayson shook his head. + +"I can tell you nothing," he said. "I admit frankly my sympathies are not +with you. I should not say a word likely to bring even inconvenience upon +Miss Deveney." + +"Dare you tell me," Heneage asked calmly, "that her visit was to you? +No! I thought not," he added, as Wrayson remained silent. "I believe +that that young lady could solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' death, if +she chose." + +Then Wrayson had an idea. At any rate, the disclosure would do no harm. + +"Do you know who Miss Deveney is?" he asked. + +Heneage looked across at him quickly. + +"Do you?" + +"Yes! She is the eldest daughter of the Colonel!" + +"Our Colonel?" Heneage exclaimed. + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Her real name is Miss Fitzmaurice," he said. "Her mother's name +was Deveney." + +Heneage looked incredulous. + +"Are you sure about this?" he asked. + +"Absolutely," Wrayson answered. "I saw her picture the day of the garden +party, and I recognized her at once. There is no doubt about it +whatever. She and the Baroness were schoolfellows in Brussels. There is +no mystery about their friendship at all." + +Heneage was thoughtful for several moments. + +"This is interesting," he said at last, "but it does not, of course, +affect the situation." + +"You mean that you will go on just the same?" Wrayson demanded. + +"Certainly! And it rests with you to say whether you will be on my side +or theirs," Heneage declared. "If you are on mine, you will tell me what +Miss Deveney was doing in these flats on that night of all others. If you +are on theirs, you will go and warn them that I am determined to solve +the mystery of Morris Barnes' death--at all costs." + +"I had no idea," Wrayson remarked quietly, "that you were ambitious to +shine as an amateur policeman." + +"We all have our hobbies," Heneage answered. "Take the Colonel, for +instance, the most harmless, the most good-natured man who ever lived. +Nothing in the world fascinates him so much as the details of a tragedy +like this, however gruesome they may be. I have seen him handle a +murderer's knife as though he loved it. His favourite museum is the +professional Chamber of Horrors in Scotland Yard. My own interests run in +a slightly different direction. I like to look at an affair of this sort +as a chess problem, and to set myself to solve it. I like to make a +silent study of all the characters around, to search for motives and +dissect evidence. Human nature has its secrets, and very wonderful +secrets too." + +"I once," Wrayson said thoughtfully, "saw a man tracked down by +bloodhounds. My sympathies were with the man." + +Heneage nodded. + +"Your view of life," he remarked, "was always a sentimental one." + +"No correct view," Wrayson declared, "can ignore sentiment." + +"Granted; but it must be true sentiment, not false," Heneage said. "This +sentiment which interferes with justice is false sentiment." + +"Justice is altogether an arbitrary, a relative phrase," Wrayson +declared. "I know no more about the case of Morris Barnes than you do. I +knew the man by sight and repute, and I knew the manner of his life, and +it seems to me a likely thing that there is more human justice about his +death than in the punishing the person who compassed it." + +"There are cases of that sort," Heneage admitted. "That is the advantage +of being an amateur, like myself. My discoveries, if I make any, are my +own. I am not bound to publish them." + +Wrayson smiled a little bitterly. + +"You would be less than human if you didn't," he said. + +Heneage rose to his feet and began putting on his coat. Wrayson remained +in his seat, without offering to help him. + +"So I may take it, I suppose," he said, as he moved towards the door, +"that my visit to you is a failure?" + +"I have not the slightest idea of running away, if that is what you +mean," Wrayson answered. "I am obliged to you for your warning, but what +I did I am prepared to stand by." + +"I am sorry," Heneage answered. "Good night!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +TIDINGS FROM THE CAPE + + +Wrayson paused for a moment in his work to answer the telephone which +stood upon his table. + +"What is it?" he asked sharply. + +His manager spoke to him from the offices below. + +"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is a young man here who won't go +away without seeing you. His name is Barnes, and he says that he has just +arrived from South Africa." + +It was a busy morning with Wrayson, for in an hour or so the paper went +to press, but he did not hesitate for a moment. + +"I will see him," he declared. "Bring him up yourself." + +Wrayson laid down the telephone. Morris Barnes had come from South +Africa. It was a common name enough, and yet, from the first, he was sure +that this was some relative. What was the object of his visit? The ideas +chased one another through his brain. Was he, too, an avenger? + +There was a knock at the door, and the clerk from downstairs ushered in +his visitor. Wrayson could scarcely repress a start. It was a younger +edition of Morris Barnes who stood there, with an ingratiating smile upon +his pale face, a trifle more Semitic in appearance, perhaps, but in other +respects the likeness was almost startling. It extended even to the +clothes, for Wrayson recognized with a start a purple and white tie of +particularly loud pattern. The cut of his coat, the glossiness of his hat +and boots, too, were all strikingly reminiscent of the dead man. + +His visitor was becoming nervous under Wrayson's close scrutiny. His +manner betrayed a curious mixture of diffidence and assurance. He seemed +overanxious to create a favourable impression. + +"I took the liberty of coming to see you, Mr. Wrayson," he said, twisting +his hat round in his hand. "My name is Barnes, Sydney Barnes. Morris +Barnes was my brother." + +Wrayson pointed to a chair, into which his visitor subsided with +exaggerated expressions of gratitude. He had very small black eyes, set +very close together, and he blinked continually. The more Wrayson studied +him, the less prepossessing he found him. + +"What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?" he asked quietly. + +"I have just come from Cape Town," the young man said. "Such a shock it +was to me--about my poor brother! Oh! such a shock!" + +"How did you hear about it?" Wrayson asked. + +"Just a newspaper--I read an account of it all. It did give me a turn and +no mistake. Directly I'd finished, I went and booked my passage on the +_Dunottar Castle._ I had a very fair berth over there--two quid a week, +but I felt I must come home at once. Fact is," he continued, looking down +at his trousers, "I had no time to get my own togs together. I was so +anxious, you see. That's why I'm wearing some of poor Morris's." + +"Are you the only relative?" Wrayson asked. + +"'Pon my sam, I am," the other answered with emphasis. "We hadn't a +relation in the world. Father and mother died ten years ago, and Morris +and I were the only two. Anything that poor Morris possessed belongs to +me, sure! There's no one else to claim a farthing's worth. You must know +that yourself, Mr. Wrayson, eh?" + +"If, as you say, you are the only relative, your brother's effects, of +course, belong to you," Wrayson answered. + +"It's a sure thing," the young man declared. "I've been to the landlord +of the flat, and he gave me up the keys at once. There's only one +quarter's rent owing. Pretty stiff though--isn't it? Fifty pounds!" + +"Your brother's was a furnished flat, I believe," Wrayson answered. "That +makes a difference, of course." + +The young man's face fell. + +"Then the furniture wasn't his?" he remarked. + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"No! the furniture belongs to the landlord. There will be an inventory, +of course, and you will be able to find out if anything was your +brother's." + +It was obvious that Mr. Sydney Barnes had not as yet entered upon the +purpose of his visit. He fidgeted for a moment or two with his hat, and +looked up at Wrayson, only to look nervously away again. To set him more +at his ease, Wrayson lit a cigarette and passed the box over. + +"Thank you, Mr. Wrayson! Thank you, sir!" his visitor exclaimed. "You +see I'm a smoker," he added, holding up his yellow-stained forefinger. +"That is, I smoke when I can afford to. Things have been pretty dicky +out in South Africa lately, you know. Terrible hard it has been to make +a living." + +"Your brother was supposed to have done pretty well out there," Wrayson +remarked, more for the sake of keeping the conversation alive than +anything. The effect of his words, however, was electrical. Mr. Sydney +Barnes leaned over from his chair, and his little black eyes twinkled +like polished beads. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he declared, "a week before he sailed for England, Morris +was on his uppers! He was caught in Johannesburg when the war broke out, +and he had to stay there. When he turned up in Cape Town again, his own +mother wouldn't have known him. He was in rags--he'd come down on a +freight--he hadn't a scrap of luggage, or a copper to his name. That was +Morris when he came to me in Cape Town!" + +Wrayson was listening attentively; he almost feared to let his visitor +see how interested he was. + +"He was fair done in!" the young man continued. "He never had the pluck +of a chicken, and the night he found me in Cape Town he cried like a +baby. He had lost everything, he said. It was no use staying in the +country any longer. He was wild to get back to England. And yet, do you +know, sir, all the time I had the idea that he was keeping something back +from me. And he was! He was, too! The--!" + +He stopped short. The vindictiveness of his countenance supplied +the epithet. + +"You'll excuse me if I'm a bit excited, Mr. Wrayson," he continued. "I'll +leave you to judge how I've been served when you hear all. He got over +me, and I lent him nearly half of my savings, and he started back to +England. He took this flat at two hundred pounds a year the very week he +got back, and he's lived, from what I can hear, like a lord ever since. +Will you believe this, sir! He sent back the money he borrowed from me a +quid at a time, and wrote me to say he was saving it with great +difficulty--out of his salary of three pounds a week. When he'd paid back +the lot, I never heard another line from him. I was doing rotten myself, +and he knew well enough that I should have been over first steamer if I'd +known about his two hundred a year flat, and all the rest of it. What do +you think of my brother, sir, eh? What do you think of him? Treated me +nicely, didn't he? Nine pounds ten it was I lent him, and nine pounds ten +was all I had back, and here he was living like a duke, and lying to me +about his three pounds a week; and there was I hawkering groceries on a +barrow, selling sham diamonds, any blooming thing to get a mouthful to +eat. Nice sort of brother that, eh? What?" + +Wrayson repressed an inclination to smile. There was something grimly +humourous about his visitor's indignation. + +"You must remember," he said, "that your brother is dead, and that his +death itself was a terrible one. Besides, even if you have had to wait +for a little time, you are his heir now." + +The young man was breathing hard. The perspiration stood out in little +beads upon his forehead. He showed his teeth a little. He was becoming +more and more unpleasant to look upon as his excitement increased. + +"Look here, Mr. Wrayson!" he exclaimed. "I'm coming to that. I've been +through his things. Clothes! I never saw such a collection. All from a +West End tailor, too! And boots! Patent, with white tops; pumps, +everything slap up! Heaven knows what he must have spent upon his +clothes. Bills from restaurants, too; why, he seems to have thought +nothing of spending a quid or two on a dinner or a supper. Photographs +of ladies, little notes asking him to tea; why, between you and me, Mr. +Wrayson, sir, he was living like a prince! And look here!" + +He rose to his feet and planked down a bank-book on the desk in front +of Wrayson. + +"Look here, sir," he declared. "Every three months, within a day or two, +cash--five hundred pounds. Here you are. Here's the last: March +27--cash, £500! Look back! January 1--By cash £500! October 2--cash, +£500! There you are, right back to the very day he arrived in England. +And he left South Africa with ten bob of mine in his pocket, after he'd +paid his passage! and from what I can hear, he never did a day's work +after he landed. And me over there working thirteen and fourteen hours a +day, and half the time stony-broke! There's a brother for you! Cain was +a fool to him!" + +"But you must remember that after all you are going to reap the benefit +of it now," Wrayson remarked. + +"Ah! but am I?" the young man exclaimed fiercely. "That's what I want to +know. Look here! I've been through every letter and every scrap of paper +I can find, I've been to the bank and to his few pals, and strike me dead +if I can find where that five hundred pounds came from every three +months! It was in gold always; he must have gone and changed it +somewhere--five hundred golden sovereigns every three months, and I can't +find where they came from!" + +"Have you been to a solicitor?" Wrayson asked. + +"Not yet," the young man answered. "I don't see what good he'll be when I +do. Morris was always one of the close sort, and I can't fancy him +spending much over lawyers." + +"What made you come to me?" Wrayson inquired. + +"Well, the caretaker at the flat told me that you and Morris used to +speak now and then, and I'm trying every one. I'm afraid he wasn't quite +classy enough for you to have palled up with, but I thought he might have +let something slip perhaps." + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"He never spoke to me of his affairs," he said. "He always seemed to have +plenty of money, though." + +"Doesn't the bank-book prove it?" the young man exclaimed excitedly. +"Every one who knew anything about him says the same. There was I half +starved in Cape Town, and here was he spending two thousand a year. +Beast, he was! I'll find out where it came from if it takes me a +lifetime." + +Wrayson leaned back in his chair. Nothing since the events of that night +itself had appealed to him more than the coming of this young man and his +strange story. + +"I am sorry that I have no information to give you," he said. "On the +other hand, if I can help you in any other way I shall be very glad." + +"What should you advise me to do?" the young man asked. + +"I should like to think the matter over carefully," Wrayson answered. +"What are your engagements for to-day? Can you lunch with me?" + +"I have no engagements," his visitor answered eagerly. "When and +what time?" + +Wrayson repressed a smile. + +"I shall be ready in twenty minutes," he answered. "We will go out +together if you don't mind waiting." + +"I'm on," Mr. Sydney Barnes declared, crossing his legs. "Don't you hurry +on my account. I'll wait as long as you like." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SEARCHING THE CHAMBERS + + +Wrayson took his guest to a popular restaurant, where there was music and +a five-course luncheon for three and six. Their conversation during the +earlier part of the meal was limited, for Mr. Sydney Barnes showed +himself possessed of an appetite which his host contemplated with +respectful admiration. His sallow cheeks became flushed and his +nervousness had subsided, long before the arrival of the coffee. + +"I say, this is all right, this place is," he said, leaning back in his +chair with a large cigar between his teeth. "Jolly expensive, I suppose, +isn't it?" + +Wrayson smiled. + +"It depends," he answered. "I don't suppose your brother would have found +it so. A bachelor can do himself pretty well on two thousand a year." + +"I only hope I get hold of it," Mr. Sydney Barnes declared fervently. +"This is the way I should like to live, this is." + +"I hope you will," Wrayson answered. "An income of that sort could +scarcely disappear into thin air, could it? By the bye, Mr. Barnes, that +reminds me of a very important circumstance which, up to now, we have not +mentioned. I mean the way your brother met with his death." + +The young man nodded thoughtfully. + +"Ah!" he remarked, "he was murdered, wasn't he? Some one must have owed +him a nasty grudge. Morris always was a one to make enemies." + +"I don't know whether the same thing has occurred to you," Wrayson +continued, "but I can't help wondering whether there may not have been +some connection between his death and that mysterious income of his." + +"I've thought of that myself," the young man declared. "All the same, +I can't see what he could have carried about with him worth two +thousand a year." + +"Exactly," Wrayson answered, "but you see the matter stands like this. He +was in receipt of about £500 every three months, as his bank-book proves. +This sum would represent five per cent interest on forty thousand pounds. +Now, considering your brother's position when he left you at Cape Town, +and the fact that you cannot discover at his bankers or elsewhere any +documents alluding to property or shares of any sort, one can scarcely +help dismissing the hypothesis that this payment was the result of +dividends or interest. At any rate, let us put that out of the question +for the moment. Your brother received five hundred pounds every three +months from some one. People don't give money away for nothing nowadays, +you know. From whom and for what services did he receive that money?" + +Mr. Sydney Barnes looked puzzled. + +"Ask me another," he remarked facetiously. + +"You do not know of any secrets, I suppose, which your brother may have +stumbled into possession of?" + +"Not I! He went about with his eyes open and his mouth closed, but I +never heard of his having that sort of luck." + +"He could not have had any adventures on the steamer, for he came back +steerage," Wrayson continued thoughtfully, "and he was in funds almost +from the moment he landed in England. I am afraid, Mr. Barnes, that he +must have been deceiving you in Cape Town." + +"If I could only have a dozen words with him!" the young man +muttered savagely. + +"It would be useful," Wrayson admitted, "but, unfortunately, it is out of +the question. Either he was deceiving you, or he was in possession of +something which turned out far more valuable than he had imagined." + +"If so, where is it?" Mr. Sydney Barnes demanded. "If it was worth that +to him, it may be to me." + +"Exactly," Wrayson remarked, "but the question of your brother's +murder comes in there. People don't commit a crime like that for +nothing, you know. If it was information which your brother had, it +died with him. If it was documents, they were probably stolen by the +person who killed him." + +"Come, that's cheerful," the young man declared ruefully. "If you're +guessing right, where do I come in?" + +"I'm afraid you don't come in," Wrayson answered; "but remember I am only +following out a surmise. Have you looked through your brother's papers +carefully?" + +"I've gone through 'em all," Mr. Sydney Barnes answered, "but, of course, +I was looking for scrip or a memorandum of investments, or something of +that sort. Perhaps if a clever chap like you were to go through them, you +might come across a clue." + +"It seems hard to believe that he shouldn't have left something of the +sort behind him," Wrayson answered. "It might be only an address, or a +name, or anything." + +"Will you come round with me and see?" Mr. Barnes demanded eagerly. "It +wouldn't take you long. You're welcome to see everything there is there." + +Wrayson called for the bill. + +"Very well," he said, "we will take a hansom round there at once." + +They left the place a few minutes later, and drove to Battersea. + +"There's a quarter to run, the landlord says, so I'm staying here," +Barnes explained, as he unlocked the front door. "I can't afford a +servant or anything of that sort of course, but I shall just sleep here." + +The rooms had a ghostly and unkempt appearance. The atmosphere of the +sitting-room was stuffy and redolent of stale tobacco smoke. Wrayson's +first action was to throw open the window. + +"There isn't a sign of a paper anywhere, except in that desk," the young +man remarked. "You'll find things in a mess, but whatever was there is +there now. I've destroyed nothing." + +Wrayson seated himself before the desk, and began a careful search. There +were restaurant bills without number, and a variety of ladies' cards, +more or less soiled. There were Empire and Alhambra programmes, a bundle +of racing wires, and an account from a bookmaker showing a small debit +balance. There were other miscellaneous bills, a plaintive epistle from a +lady signing herself Flora, and begging for the loan of a fiver for a +week, and an invitation to tea from a spinster who called herself Poppy. +Amongst all this mass of miscellaneous documents there were only three +which Wrayson laid on one side for further consideration. One of these +was a note, dated from the Adelphi a few days before the tragedy, and +written in a stiff, legal hand. It contained only a few lines: + +"DEAR SIR,-- + +"My client will be happy to meet you at any time on Thursday you may be +pleased to appoint, either here or at your own address. Please reply, +making an appointment, by return of post. + +"Yours faithfully, + +"W. BENTHAM." + +The second document was also in the shape of a letter from a firm of +private detective agents and was dated only a day earlier than the +lawyer's letter. It ran as follows: + +"MY DEAR SIR,-- + +"In reply to your inquiry, our charges for watching a single person in +London only are three guineas a day, including all expenses. For that +sum we can guarantee that the person with whose movements you desire to +keep in touch will be closely shadowed from roof to roof, so long as +the person remains within seven miles of Charing Cross. A daily report +will be made to you, and should legal proceedings ensue from any +information procured by us, you may rely upon any witness whom we might +place in the box. + +"Trusting to hear from you, + +"We are, yours sincerely, + +"McKENNA & FOULDS." + +The third document which Wrayson had preserved was the Cunard sailing +list for the current month, the plan of a steamer which sailed within a +week of the murder, and a few lines from the steamship office respecting +accommodation. + +"These, at any rate, will give you something to do," Wrayson remarked. +"You can go to the lawyer and find out who his client was who desired to +see your brother. There is a chance there! You can go to McKenna & Foulds +and find out who it was whom he wanted shadowed, and you can go to the +Cunard office and see whether he really intended sailing for America." + +Mr. Sydney Barnes looked a little doubtful. + +"I suppose," he suggested timidly, "you couldn't spare the time to go +round to these places with me? You see, I'm not much class over here, +even in Morris's togs. They'd take more notice of you, being a gentleman. +Good God! what's that?" + +Both men had started, for the sound was unexpected. Some one was fitting +a latch-key into the door! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE DEAD MAN'S BROTHER + + +At the sight of the two men who awaited her entrance, the Baroness +stopped short. Whatever alarm or surprise she may have felt at their +presence was effectually concealed from them by the thick veil which she +wore, through which her features were undistinguishable. As though +purposely, she left to them the onus of speech. + +Wrayson took a quick step towards her. + +"Baroness!" he exclaimed. "What are you--I beg your pardon, but what are +you doing here?" + +She raised her veil and looked at them both attentively. In her hand she +still held the latch-key by means of which she entered. + +"Do you know," she answered quietly, "I was just going to ask you the +same thing." + +"Our presence is easily explained," Wrayson answered. "This is Mr. Sydney +Barnes, the brother of the Mr. Barnes who used to live here. He is +keeping the flat on for a short time." + +The Baroness was surprised, and showed it. Without a moment's hesitation, +however, she accepted Wrayson's words as an introduction to the young +man, and held out her hand to him with a brilliant smile. + +"I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Barnes," she said, "even under such +painful circumstances. I knew your brother very well, and I have heard +him speak of you." + +[Illustration: "AT THE SIGHT OF THE TWO MEN, THE BARONESS STOPPED SHORT"] + +Mr. Sydney Barnes did not attempt to conceal his surprise. He shook +hands with the Baroness, however, and regarded her with undisguised +admiration. + +"Well, this licks me!" he exclaimed frankly. "Do you mean to say that you +were a friend of Morris's?" + +"Certainly," the Baroness answered. "Why not?" + +"Oh! I don't know," the young man declared. "I'm getting past being +surprised at anything. I suppose it's the oof that makes the difference. +A friend of Morris's, you said. Why, perhaps--" He hesitated, and glanced +towards Wrayson. + +"There is no harm in asking the Baroness, at any rate," Wrayson said. +"The fact of the matter is," he continued, turning towards her, "that Mr. +Sydney Barnes here finds himself in a somewhat extraordinary position. He +is the sole relative and heir of his brother, and he has come over here +from South Africa, naturally enough, to take possession of his effects. +Now there is no doubt, from his bank-book, and his manner of life, that +Morris Barnes was possessed of a considerable income. According to his +bank-book it was £2,000 a year." + +The Baroness nodded thoughtfully. + +"He told me once that he was worth as much as that," she remarked, + +"Exactly, but the curious part of the affair is that, up to the present, +Mr. Sydney Barnes has been unable to discover the slightest trace of any +investments or any sum of money whatever. Now can you help us? Did +Morris Barnes ever happen to mention to you in what direction his +capital was invested? Did he ever give you any idea at all as to the +source of his income?" + +The Baroness stood quite still, as though lost in thought. Wrayson +watched her with a curious sense of fascination. He knew very well that +the subtle brain of the woman was occupied in no fruitless attempt at +reminiscence; he was convinced that the Baroness had never exchanged a +single word with Morris Barnes in her life. She was thinking her way +through this problem--how best to make use of this unexpected tool. Their +eyes met and she smiled faintly. She judged rightly that Wrayson, at any +rate, was not deceived. + +"I cannot give you any definite information," she said at last, "but--" + +She hesitated, and the young man's eagerness escaped all bounds. + +"But what?" he cried, leaning breathlessly towards her. "You know +something! What is it? Go on! Go on!" + +"I think that if I can remember it," she continued, "I can tell you the +name of the solicitor whom he employed." + +The young man dashed his fist upon the table. He was pale almost +to the lips. + +"By God! you must remember it," he cried. "Don't say you've forgotten. +It's most important. Two thousand a year!--pounds! Think!" + +She turned towards Wrayson. She wished to conciliate him, but the young +man was not a pleasant sight. + +"It was something like Benton," she suggested. + +Wrayson glanced downward at one of the three documents which he had +preserved. + +"Bentham!" he exclaimed. "Was that it?" + +The face of the Baroness cleared at once. + +"Of course it was! How stupid of me to have forgotten. His offices are +somewhere in the Adelphi." + +Barnes caught up his hat. + +"Where is that?" he exclaimed. "I'm off." + +Wrayson held out his hand. + +"Wait a moment," he said. "There is no hurry for an hour or so. This +affair may not be quite so simple, after all." + +"Why not?" the young man demanded fiercely. "It's my money, isn't it? I +can take out letters of administration. It belongs to me. He'll have to +give it up." + +"In the long run I should say that he will--if he has it," Wrayson +answered. "But before you go to him, remember this. He has seen the +account of your brother's death. He did not appear at the inquest. He has +taken no steps to discover his next of kin. Both of these proceedings +were part of his natural duty." + +"Mr. Wrayson is quite right," the Baroness remarked. "Mr. Bentham has not +behaved as an honest man. He will have to be treated firmly but +carefully. You are a little excited just now. Wait for an hour or so, and +perhaps Mr. Wrayson will go with you." + +Barnes turned towards him eagerly, and Wrayson nodded. + +"Yes! I'll go," he said. "I know Mr. Bentham slightly. He once paid me +rather a curious visit. But never mind that now." + +"Was it in connection with this affair?" the Baroness asked him quietly. + +Wrayson affected not to hear. He passed his cigarette case to Barnes, who +was stamping up and down the room, muttering to himself. + +"Look here, you'd better have a smoke and calm down, young man," he +said. "It's no use going to see Bentham in a state like this." + +The young man threw himself into a chair. Suddenly he sat up again, and +addressed the Baroness. + +"I say," he exclaimed, "how is it that you have a key to this flat? What +did you come here for this afternoon?" + +The Baroness laughed softly. + +"Well, I got the key from the landlord a few days ago. I told him that I +might take the flat, and he told me to come in and look at it and return +the key--which you see I haven't done. To be quite honest with you, +though, I had another reason for coming here." + +The young man looked at her with mingled suspicion and admiration. She +had raised her veil now, and even Wrayson was aware that he had scarcely +realized how beautiful a woman she was. Her tailor-made gown of dark +green cloth fitted her to perfection; she was turned out with all that +delightful perfection of detail which seems to be the Frenchwoman's +heritage. Her smile, half pathetic, half appealing, was certainly +sufficient to turn the head of a dozen young men such as Sydney Barnes. + +"I have told you," she continued, "that your brother and I used to be +very good friends. I wrote him now and then some rather foolish letters. +He promised to destroy them, but--men are so foolish, you know, +sometimes--I was never quite sure that he had kept his word, and I meant +to take this opportunity of looking for myself that he had not left them +about. You do not blame me, Mr. Sydney? You are not cross?" + +He kept his eyes upon her as though fascinated. + +"No!" he said. "No! I mean of course not." + +"These letters," she continued, "you have not seen them, Mr. Sydney? No? +Or you, Mr. Wrayson?" + +"We have not come across any letters at all answering to that +description," Wrayson assured her. + +The Baroness glanced across at Barnes, who was certainly regarding her in +somewhat peculiar fashion. + +"Why does Mr. Sydney look at me like that?" she asked, with a little +shrug of the shoulders. "He does not think that I came here to steal? +Why, Mr. Sydney," she added, "I am very, very much richer than ever your +brother was." + +"Richer--than he was! Richer than two thousand a year!" he gasped. + +The Baroness laughed softly but heartily. She stole a sidelong glance +at Wrayson. + +"Why, my dear young man," she said, "it costs me--oh! quite as much as +that each year to dress." + +Barnes looked at her as though she were something holy. When he spoke, +there was awe in his tone. The problem which had formed itself in his +thoughts demanded expression. + +"And you say that you were a pal--I mean a friend of Morris's? You wrote +him letters?" + +The Baroness smiled. + +"Why not?" she exclaimed. "Women have queer tastes, you know. We like all +sorts of men. I think I must ask Mr. Wrayson to bring you in to tea one +afternoon. Would you like to come?" + +"Yes!" he answered. + +She nodded a farewell and turned to Wrayson. + +"As for you," she said under her breath, "you had better come soon if +you want to make your peace with Louise." + +"May I come this afternoon?" he asked. + +She nodded, and held out her exquisitely gloved hand. + +"I knew you were going to be an ally," she murmured under her breath. +"Don't let the others get hold of him." + +She was gone before Wrayson could ask for an explanation. The others! If +only he could discover who they were. + +He turned back into the room. + +"Do you mind coming down into my flat for a moment, Barnes?" he asked. "I +want to telephone to the office before I go out with you again." + +The young man followed him heavily. He seemed a little dazed. In +Wrayson's sitting-room, he stood looking about him as though appraising +the value of the curios, pictures, and engravings with which the +apartment was crowded. Wrayson, while waiting for his call, watched him +curiously. In his present state his vulgarity was perhaps less glaringly +apparent, but his lack of attractiveness was accentuated. His ears seemed +to have grown larger, his pinched, Semitic features more repulsive, and +his complexion sallower. He was pitchforked into a world of which he knew +nothing, and he seemed stunned by his first contact with it. Only one +thing remained--the greed in his eyes. They seemed to have grown narrower +and brighter with desire. + +He did not speak until they were in the cab. Then he turned to Wrayson. + +"I say," he exclaimed, "what was her name?" + +Wrayson smiled. + +"The Baroness de Sturm," he answered. + +"Baroness! Real Baroness! All O.K., I suppose?" + +"Without a doubt," Wrayson answered. + +"And Morris knew her--she wrote letters to him," he continued, "a +woman--like that." + +He was silent for several moments. It was obvious that his opinion of his +brother was rising rapidly. His tone had become almost reverential. + +"I've got to find where that money is," he said abruptly. "If I go +through fire and water to get it, I'll have it! I'll keep on Morris's +flat. I'll go to his tailor! I'll--you're laughing at me. But I mean it! +I've had enough of grubbing along on nothing a week, and living in the +gutters. I want a bit of Morris's luck." + +Wrayson put his head out of the cab. The young man's face was not +pleasant to look at. + +"We are there," he said. "Come along." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE LAWYER'S SUGGESTION + + +The offices of Mr. Bentham were situated at the extreme end of a dingy, +depressing looking street which ran from the Adelphi to the Embankment +Gardens. It was a street of private hotels which no one had ever heard +of, and where apparently no one ever stayed. A few cranky institutions, +existing under the excuse of charity, had their offices there, and a firm +of publishers, whose glory was of the past, still dragged out their +uncomfortable and profitless existence in a building whose dusty windows +and smoke-stained walls sufficiently proclaimed their fast approaching +extinction. They found the name of Mr. Bentham upon a rusty brass plate +outside the last building in the street, with the additional intimation +that his offices were upon the first floor. There they found him, without +clerks, without even an errand boy, in a large bare apartment overlooking +the embankment. The room was darkened by the branches of one of a row of +elm trees, and the windows themselves were curtainless. There was no +carpet upon the floor, no paper upon the walls, no rows of tin boxes, +none of the usual surroundings of a lawyer's office. The solicitor, who +had bidden them enter, did not at first offer them any salutation. He +paused in a letter which he was writing and his eyes rested for a moment +upon Wrayson, and for a second or two longer upon his companion. + +"Good afternoon, Mr. Bentham!" Wrayson said. "My name is Wrayson--you +remember me, I daresay." + +"I remember you certainly, Mr. Wrayson," the lawyer answered. His eyes +were resting once more upon Sydney Barnes. + +"This," Wrayson explained, "is Mr. Sydney Barnes, a brother of the Mr. +Morris Barnes, who was, I believe, a client of yours." + +"Scarcely," the lawyer murmured, "a client of mine, although I must +confess that I was anxious to secure him as one. Possibly if he had lived +a few more hours, the epithet would have been in order." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"From a letter which we found in Mr. Barnes' desk," he remarked, "we +concluded that some business was pending between you. Hence our visit." + +Mr. Bentham betrayed no sign of interest or curiosity of any sort. + +"I regret," he said, "that I cannot offer you chairs. I am not +accustomed to receive my clients here. If you care to be seated upon +that form, pray do so." + +Wrayson glanced at the form and declined. Sydney Barnes seemed scarcely +to have heard the invitation. His eyes were glued upon the lawyer's face. + +"Will you tell me precisely," Mr. Bentham said, "in what way I can be of +service to you?" + +"I want to know where my brother's money is," Barnes declared, stepping a +little forward. "Two thousand a year he had. We've seen it in his +bank-book. Five hundred pounds every quarter day! And we can't find a +copper! You were his lawyer, or were going to be. You must have known +something about his position." + +Mr. Bentham looked straight ahead with still, impassive face. No trace +of the excitement in Sydney Barnes' face was reflected in his features. + +"Two thousand a year," he repeated calmly. "It was really as much as +that, was it? Your brother had, I believe, once mentioned the amount to +me. I had no idea, though, that it was quite so large." + +"I am his heir," the young man declared feverishly. "I'll take my oath +there's no one else. I'm going to take out letters of administration. He +hadn't another relation on God's earth." + +Mr. Bentham regarded the young man thoughtfully. + +"Have you any idea, Mr. Barnes," he asked, "as to the source of +this income?" + +"Of course I haven't," Barnes answered. "That's why we're here. You must +know something about it." + +"Your brother was not my client," the lawyer said slowly. "If his death +had not been quite so sudden, I think that he might have been. As it is, +I know very little of his affairs. I am afraid that I can be of very +little use to you." + +"You must know something," Barnes declared doggedly. "You must tell us +what you do know." + +"Your brother was," Mr. Bentham said, "a very remarkable man. Has it +never occurred to you, Mr. Barnes, that this two thousand a year might +have been money received in payment of services rendered--might have +been, in short, in the nature of a salary?" + +"Not likely," Barnes answered, contemptuously. "Morris did no work at +all. He did nothing but just enjoy himself and spend money." + +"Nothing but enjoy himself and spend money," Mr. Bentham repeated. "Ah! +Did you see a great deal of your brother during the last few years?" + +"I saw nothing of him at all. I was out in South Africa. I have only just +got back. Not but that I'd been here long ago," the young man added, with +a note of exasperation in his tone, "if I'd had any idea of the luck he +was in. Why, I lent him a bit to come back with, though I was only +earning thirty bob a week, and the brute only sent it me back in bits, +and not a farthing over." + +"That was not considerate of him," Mr. Bentham agreed--"not at all +considerate. Your brother had the command of considerable sums of money. +In fact, Mr. Barnes, I may tell you, without any breach of confidence, I +think that if he had kept his appointment with me on the night when he +was murdered, I was prepared, on behalf of my client, to hand him a +cheque for ten thousand pounds!" + +Barnes struck the table before him with his clenched fist. + +"For what?" he cried, hysterically. "Ten thousand pounds for what?" + +"Your brother," Mr. Bentham said calmly, "was possessed of securities +which were worth that much or even more to my client." + +"And where are they now?" Barnes gasped. + +"I do not know," Mr. Bentham answered. "If you can find them, I think it +very likely that my client might make you a similar offer." + +It was the first ray of hope. Barnes moistened his dry lips with his +tongue, and drew a long breath. + +"Securities!" he muttered. "What sort of securities?" + +"There, unfortunately," Mr. Bentham said, "I am unable to help you. I am +an agent only in the matter. They were securities which my client was +anxious to buy, and your brother was not unwilling to sell for cash, +notwithstanding the income which they were bringing him in." + +"But how can I look for them, if I don't know what they are?" Barnes +protested. + +"There are difficulties, certainly," the lawyer admitted, carefully +polishing his spectacles with the corner of a silk handkerchief; "but, +then, as you have doubtless surmised, the whole situation is a +difficult one." + +"You can get to know," Barnes exclaimed. "Your client would tell you." + +Mr. Bentham sighed gently. + +"Of course," he said, "I am only quoting my own opinion, but I do not +think that my client would do anything of the sort. These securities +happen to be of a somewhat secret nature. Your brother was in a position +to make an exceedingly clever use of them. It appears incidentally to +have cost him his life, but there are risks, of course, in every +profession." + +Barnes stared at him with wide-open eyes. He seemed, for the moment, +struck dumb. Wrayson, who had been silent during the greater part of the +conversation, turned towards the lawyer. + +"You believe, then," he asked, "that Morris Barnes was murdered for the +sake of these securities?" + +"I believe--nothing," the lawyer answered. "It is not my business to +believe. Mr. Morris Barnes was in the receipt of an income of two +thousand a year, which we might call dividend upon these securities. My +client, through me, made Mr. Barnes a cash offer to buy them outright, +and although I must admit that Mr. Barnes had not closed with us, yet I +believe that he was on the point of doing so. He had doubtless had it +brought home to him that there was a certain amount of danger associated +with his position generally. The night on which my client arrived in +England was the night upon which Mr. Morris Barnes was murdered. The +inference to be drawn from this circumstance I can leave, I am sure, to +the common sense of you two gentlemen." + +"First, then," Wrayson said, "it would appear that he was murdered by the +people who were paying him two thousand a year, and who were acting in +opposition to your client!" + +Mr. Bentham shrugged his shoulder gently. + +"It does not sound unreasonable," he admitted. + +"And secondly," Wrayson continued, "if that was so, he was probably +robbed of these securities at the same time." + +"Now that, also," Mr. Bentham said smoothly, "sounds reasonable. But, as +a matter of fact," he continued, looking down upon the table, "there are +certain indications which go to disprove it. My personal opinion is that +the assassin--granted that there was an assassin, and granted that he was +acting on behalf of the parties we have referred to--met with a +disappointment." + +"In plain words," Wrayson interrupted, "you mean that the other side have +not possessed themselves of the securities?" + +"They certainly have not," Mr. Bentham declared. "They still remain--the +property by inheritance of this young gentleman here--Mr. Sydney Barnes, +I believe." + +His tone was so even, so expressionless, that its slightest changes were +noticeable. It seemed to Wrayson that a faint note of sarcasm had crept +into these last few words. Mr. Barnes himself, however, was quite +oblivious of it. His yellow-stained fingers were spread out upon the +table. He leaned over towards the lawyer. His under lip protruded, his +deep-set eyes seemed closer than ever together. He was grimly, tragically +in earnest. + +"Look here," he said. "What can I do to get hold of 'em? I don't care +what it is. I'm game! I'll deal with your man--the cash client. I'll give +you a commission, see! Five per cent on all I get. How's that? I'll play +fair. Now chuck away all this mystery. What were these securities? Where +shall I start looking for them?" + +Mr. Bentham regarded him with stony face. "There are certain points," he +said, "upon which I cannot enlighten you. My duty to my client forbids +it. I cannot describe to you the nature of those securities. I cannot +suggest where you should look for them. All that I can say is that they +are still to be found, and that my client is still a buyer." + +The young man turned to Wrayson. His face was twitching with some +emotion, probably anger. + +"Did you ever hear such bally rot!" he exclaimed. "He knows all +about these securities all right. They belong to me. He ought to be +made to tell." + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"It does seem rather a wild-goose chase, doesn't it?" he remarked. "Can't +you tell him a little more, Mr. Bentham?" + +Mr. Bentham sighed, as though his impotence were a matter of sincere +regret to him. + +"The only advice I can offer Mr. Barnes," he said, "is that he induce you +to aid him in his search. Between you, I should never be surprised to +hear of your success." + +"And why," Wrayson asked, "should you consider me such a useful ally?" + +Mr. Bentham looked at him steadily for a moment. + +"You appear to me," he said, "to be a young man of intelligence--and you +know how to keep your own counsel. I should consider Mr. Barnes very +fortunate if you could make up your mind to aid him in his search." + +"It is not my affair," Wrayson answered stiffly. "I could not possibly +pledge myself to enter upon such a wild-goose chase." + +Mr. Bentham turned over some papers which lay upon the table before him. +He had apparently had enough of the conversation. + +"You must not call it exactly that, Mr. Wrayson," he said. "Mr. Barnes' +success in his quest would probably result in an act of justice to +society. To you personally, I should imagine it would be expressly +interesting." + +"What do you mean?" Wrayson asked, quickly. + +The lawyer looked at him calmly. + +"It should solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder!" he answered. + +Wrayson touched his companion on the shoulder. + +"I think that we might as well go," he said. "Mr. Bentham does not mean +to tell us anything more." + +Barnes moved slowly towards the door, but with reluctance manifested in +his sullen face and manner. + +"I don't know how I'm going to set about this job," he said, turning once +more towards the lawyer. "I shall do what I can, but you haven't seen the +last of me, yet, Mr. Bentham. If I fail, I shall come back to you." + +The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. He was already absorbed in other work. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A DINNER IN THE STRAND + + +Wrayson was conscious, from the moment they left Mr. Bentham's office, of +a change in the deportment of the young man who walked by his side. A +variety of evil passions had developed one at least more tolerable--he +was learning the lesson of self-restraint. He did not speak until they +reached the corner of the street. + +"Where can we get a drink?" he asked, almost abruptly. "I want +some brandy." + +Wrayson took him to a bar close by. They sat in a quiet corner. + +"I want to ask you something," he said, leaning halfway over the little +table between them. "How much do you know about the lady who came into my +brother's flat when we were there?" + +The direct significance of the question startled Wrayson. This young man +was beginning to think. + +"How much do I know of her?" he repeated. "Very little." + +"She is really a Baroness--not one of these faked-up ones?" + +"She is undoubtedly the Baroness de Sturm," Wrayson answered, a +little stiffly. + +"And she has plenty of coin?" + +"Certainly," Wrayson answered. "She is a great lady, I believe, in her +own country." + +Barnes struck the table softly with the flat of his hand. His eyes were +searching for his answer in Wrayson's face, almost before the words had +left his lips. + +"Do you believe then," he asked, "that a woman like that wrote +love-letters to Morris? You knew Morris. He was what those sort of people +call a bounder. Same as me! If he knew her at all it was a wonder. I +can't believe in the love-letters." + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"The whole affair," he declared, "everything connected with your brother, +is so mysterious that I really don't know what to say." + +"You knew Morris," the young man persisted. "You know the Baroness. Set +'em down side by side. They don't go, eh? You know that. Morris could tog +himself up as much as he liked, and he was always a good 'un at that when +he had the brass, but he'd never be able to make himself her sort. And if +she's a real lady, and wasn't after the brass, then I don't believe that +she ever wrote him love-letters. What?" + +Wrayson said nothing. The young man held out his empty glass to a waiter. + +"More brandy," he ordered briefly. "Look here, Mr. Wrayson," he added, +adopting once more his mysterious manner, "those love-letters don't go! +What did the Baroness want in my brother's flat? She struck me dumb when +I first saw her. I admit it. I'd have swallowed anything. More fool me! I +tell you, though, I'm not having any more. Will you come along with me to +her house now, and see if we can't make her tell us the truth?" + +Wrayson shook his head deliberately. + +"Mr. Barnes," he said, "I am sorry to disappoint you, and I sympathize +very much with your position, but you mustn't take it for granted that +I am, shall we say, your ally in this matter. I haven't either the time +or the patience to give to investigations of this sort. I have done +what I could for you, and I will give you what advice I can, or help +you in any way, if you care to come and see me. But you mustn't count +on anything else." + +Barnes' face dropped. He was obviously disappointed. + +"You won't come and see the Baroness with me even?" he asked. + +"I think not," Wrayson answered. "To tell you the truth, I don't think +that it would be of any use. Even if your suspicions are correct--and you +scarcely know what you suspect, do you?--the Baroness is much too clever +a woman to allow herself to be pumped by either you or me." + +Wrayson felt himself subjected for several moments to the scrutinizing +stare of those blinking, unpleasant eyes. + +"You're not taking her side against me, are you?" Barnes asked +distrustfully. + +"Certainly not," Wrayson answered impatiently. "You must be reasonable, +my young friend. I have done what I can to put you in the way of helping +yourself, but I am a busy man. I have my own affairs to look after, and I +can't afford to play the part of a twentieth-century Don Quixote." + +"I understand," the young man said slowly. "You are going to turn me up." + +"You are putting a very foolish construction upon what I have said," +Wrayson answered irritably. "I have gone out of my way to help you, but, +frankly, I think that yours is a wild-goose chase." + +Barnes rose to his feet and finished his brandy. + +"I don't believe it," he declared. "I'm going to have that two thousand a +year, if I have to take that man Bentham by the throat and strangle the +truth out of him. If I can't find out without, I'll make him tell me the +truth if I swing for it. By God, I will!" + +They left the place together and walked towards the corner of the street. + +"I shouldn't do anything rash, if I were you," Wrayson said. "I fancy +you'd find Bentham a pretty tough sort to tackle. You must excuse me now. +I am going into the club for a few minutes." + +"How are you, Wrayson?" a quiet voice asked behind. + +Wrayson turned round abruptly. It was Stephen Heneage who had greeted +him--the one man whom, at that moment, he was least anxious to meet of +any person in the world. Already he could see that Heneage was taking +quiet but earnest note of his companion. + +Wrayson nodded a little abruptly and left Barnes without any +further farewell. + +"Coming round to the club?" he asked. + +Heneage assented, and glanced carelessly behind at Barnes, who was +walking slowly in the opposite direction. + +"Who's your friend?" he asked. "You shook him off a little suddenly, +didn't you?" + +"He is not a friend," Wrayson answered, "and I was trying to get rid of +him when you came up. He is nobody of any account." + +Heneage shook his head thoughtfully. + +"It won't do, Wrayson," he said. "That young man possessed a cast of +features which are positively unmistakable." + +"What do you mean?" Wrayson demanded. + +"I mean that he was a relation, and a near relation, too, I should +imagine, of our deceased friend Morris Barnes," Heneage answered coolly. +"I shall be obliged to make that young man's acquaintance." + +"Damn you and your prying!" Wrayson exclaimed angrily. "I wish--" + +He stopped abruptly. Heneage was already retracing his steps. + +Wrayson, after a moment's indecision, went on to the club, and made his +way at once to the billiard-room. The Colonel was sitting in his usual +corner chair, watching a game of pool, beaming upon everybody with his +fatherly smile, encouraging the man who met with ill luck, and applauding +the successful shots. He was surrounded by his cronies, but he held out +his hand to Wrayson, who leaned against the wall by his side and waited +for his opportunity. + +"Colonel," he said at last in his ear, taking advantage of the applause +which followed a successful shot, "I want half an hour's talk with you, +quite by ourselves. Can you slip away and come and dine with me +somewhere?" + +The Colonel looked dubious. + +"I'm afraid they won't like it," he answered. "Freddy and George are +here, and Tempest's coming in later." + +"I can't help it," Wrayson answered. "You can guess what it's about. It's +a serious matter." + +The Colonel sighed. + +"We might find an opportunity later on," he suggested. + +"It won't do," Wrayson answered. "I want to get right away from here. I +wouldn't bother you if it wasn't necessary." + +"I'm sure you wouldn't," the Colonel admitted. "We'll slip away quietly +when this game is over. It won't be long. Good shot, Freddy! Sixpence, +you divide!" + +They found themselves in the Strand about half an hour later. + +"Where shall we go?" Wrayson asked. "Somewhere quiet." + +"Across the way," the Colonel answered. "We shan't see any one we +know there." + +Wrayson nodded, and they crossed the street and entered Luigi's. It was +early for diners, and they found a small table in a retired corner. +Wrayson ordered the dinner, and then leaned across the table towards +his guest. + +"It's that Barnes matter, Colonel," he said quietly. "Heneage has taken +it up and means going into it thoroughly. He saw me letting out your +daughter that night." + +The Colonel was in the act of helping himself to _hors d'oeuvre._ His +fork remained suspended for a moment in the air. Then he set it down with +trembling fingers. The cheery light had faded from his face. He seemed +suddenly older. His voice sounded unnatural. + +"Heneage!" he repeated, sharply. "Stephen Heneage! What affair is +it of his?" + +"None," Wrayson answered. "He likes that sort of thing, that's all. He +saw--your daughter with a lady--the Baroness de Sturm, and the seeing +them together, after he had watched her come out of the flat that night, +seemed to suggest something to him. He warned me that he had made up his +mind to solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder; he advised me, in +fact, to clear out. And now, since then--" + +The waiter brought the soup. Wrayson broke off and talked for a moment or +two to the _maître d'hôtel,_ who had paused at their table. Presently, +when they were alone, he went on. + +"Since then, a young brother of Barnes has turned up from South Africa. +There was some mystery about Morris Barnes and the source of his income. +The brother is just as determined to solve this as Heneage seems to be to +discover the--the murderer! They will work together, and I am afraid! Not +for myself! You know for whom." + +The Colonel was very grave. He ate slowly, and he seemed to be thinking. + +"There is one man, a solicitor named Bentham," Wrayson continued, "who I +believe knows everything. But I do not think that even Heneage will be +able to make him speak. His connection with the affair is on behalf of a +mysterious client. Young Barnes and I went to see him this afternoon, but +beyond encouraging the boy to search for the source of his brother's +income, he wouldn't open his mouth." + +"A solicitor named Bentham," the Colonel repeated mechanically. "Ah!" + +"Do you know him?" Wrayson asked. + +"I have heard of him," the Colonel answered. "A most disreputable person, +I believe. He has offices in the Adelphi." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"And whatever his business is," he continued, "it isn't the ordinary +business of a solicitor. He has no clerks--not even an office boy!" + +The Colonel poured himself out a glass of wine. + +"No clerks--not even an office boy! It all agrees with what I have heard. +A bad lot, Wrayson, I am afraid--a thoroughly bad lot. Are you sure that +up to now he has kept his own counsel?" + +"I am sure of it," Wrayson answered. + +The Colonel seemed in some measure to have recovered himself. He looked +Wrayson in the face, and though grave, his expression was decidedly +more natural. + +"Herbert," he asked, sinking his voice almost to a whisper, "who do you +believe murdered Morris Barnes?" + +"God knows," Wrayson answered. + +"Do you believe--that--my daughter had any hand in it?" + +"No!" Wrayson declared fiercely. + +The Colonel was silent for a moment. He seemed to be contemplating the +label on the bottle of claret which reposed in its cradle by their side. + +"And yet," he said thoughtfully, "she would necessarily be involved in +any disclosures which were made." + +"And so should I," Wrayson declared. "And those two, Sydney Barnes and +Heneage, mean to bring about disclosures. That is why I felt that I must +talk to some one about this. Colonel, can't you get your daughter to tell +us the whole truth--what she was doing in Barnes' flat that night, and +all the rest of it? We should be forewarned then!" + +The Colonel covered his face with his hand for a moment. The question +obviously distressed him. + +"I can't, Herbert," he said, in a low tone. "You would scarcely think, +would you, that I was the sort of man to live on irreconcilable terms +with one of my own family? But there it is. Don't think hardly of her. It +is more the fault of circumstances than her fault. But I couldn't go to +see her--and she wouldn't come to see me." + +Wrayson sighed. + +"It is like the rest of this cursed mystery, utterly incomprehensible," +he declared. "I shall never--" + +With his glass half raised to his lips, he paused suddenly in his +sentence. His face became a study in the expression of a boundless +amazement. His eyes were fastened upon the figures of two people on their +way up the room, preceded by the smiling _maître d'hôtel._ Some words, or +rather an exclamation, broke incoherently from his lips. He set down his +glass hurriedly, and a stain of red wine crept unheeded across the +tablecloth. + +"Look," he whispered hoarsely,--"look!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A CONFESSION OF LOVE + + +The Colonel turned bodily round in his chair. The couple to whom Wrayson +had drawn his attention were certainly incongruous enough to attract +notice anywhere. The man was lank, elderly, and of severe appearance. He +was bald, he had slight side-whiskers, he wore spectacles, and his face +was devoid of expression. He was dressed in plain dinner clothes of +old-fashioned cut. The tails of his coat were much too short, his collar +belonged to a departed generation, and his tie was ready made. In a small +Scotch town he might have passed muster readily enough as the clergyman +or lawyer of the place. As a diner at Luigi's, ushered up the room to the +soft strains of "La Mattchiche," and followed by such a companion, he was +almost ridiculously out of place. If anything, she was the more +noticeable of the two to the casual observer. Her hair was dazzlingly +yellow, and arranged with all the stiffness of the coiffeur's art. She +wore a dress of black sequins, cut perilously low, and shorn a little by +wear of its pristine splendour. Her complexion was as artificial as her +high-pitched voice; her very presence seemed to exude perfumes of the +patchouli type. She was the sort of person concerning whom the veriest +novice in such matters could have made no mistake. Yet her companion +seemed wholly unembarrassed. He handed her the menu and looked calmly +around the room. + +"Who are those people?" the Colonel asked. "Rather a queer combination, +aren't they?" + +"The man is Bentham, the lawyer," Wrayson answered. His eyes were fixed +upon the lady, who seemed not at all indisposed to become the object of +any stray attention. + +"That Bentham!" the Colonel repeated, under his breath. "But what on +earth--where the mischief could he pick up a companion like that?" + +Wrayson scarcely heard him. He had withdrawn his eyes from the lady with +an effort. + +"I have seen that woman somewhere," he said thoughtfully--"somewhere +where she seemed quite as much out of place as she does here. +Lately, too." + +"H'm!" the Colonel remarked, leaning back in his chair to allow the +waiter to serve him. "She's not the sort of person you'd be likely to +forget either, is she?" + +"And, by Heavens, I haven't!" Wrayson declared, suddenly laying down his +knife and fork. "I remember her now. It was at the inquest--Barnes' +inquest. She was one of the two women at whose flat he called on his way +home. What on earth is Bentham doing with her?" + +"You think," the Colonel remarked quietly, "that there is some +connection--" + +"Of course there is," Wrayson interrupted. "Does that old fossil look +like the sort to take such a creature about for nothing? Colonel, he +doesn't know himself--where those securities are! He's brought that +woman here to pump her!" + +The Colonel passed his hand across his forehead. + +"I am getting a little confused," he murmured. + +"And I," Wrayson declared, with barely suppressed excitement, "am +beginning to see at least the shadow of daylight. If only you had some +influence with your daughter, Colonel!" + +The Colonel looked at him steadfastly. Wrayson wondered whether it was +the light, or whether indeed his friend had aged so much during the last +few months. + +"I have no influence over my daughter, Wrayson," he said. "I thought that +I had already explained that. And, Herbert," he added, leaning over the +table, "why don't you let this matter alone? It doesn't concern you. You +are more likely to do harm than good by meddling with it. There may be +interests involved greater than you know of; you may find understanding a +good deal more dangerous than ignorance. It isn't your affair, anyhow. +Take my advice! Let it alone!" + +"I wish I could," Wrayson answered, with a little sigh. "Frankly, I would +if I could, but it fascinates me." + +"All that I have heard of it," the Colonel remarked wearily, "sounds +sordid enough." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"I think," he said, "that it is the sense of personal contact in a case +like this which stirs the blood. I have memories about that night, +Colonel, which I couldn't describe to you--or any one. And now this young +brother coming on the scene seems to bring the dead man to life again. +He's one of the worst type of young bounders I ever came into contact +with. A creature without sentiment or feeling of any sort--nothing but an +almost ravenous cupidity. He's wearing his brother's clothes now--thinks +nothing of it! He hasn't a single regret. I haven't heard a single decent +word pass his lips. But he wants the money. Nothing else! The money!" + +"Do you believe," the Colonel asked, "that he will get it?" + +"Who can tell?" Wrayson answered. "That Morris Barnes was in possession +of valuables of some sort, everything goes to prove. Just think of the +number of people who have shown their interest in him. There is Bentham +and his mysterious client, the Baroness de Sturm and your daughter, +and--the person who murdered him. Apparently, even though he lost his +life, Barnes was too clever for them, for his precious belongings must +still be undiscovered." + +The Colonel finished his wine and leaned back in his chair. + +"I am tired of this subject," he said. "I should like to get back to +the club." + +Wrayson called for the bill a little unwillingly. He was, in a sense, +disappointed at the Colonel's attitude. + +"Very well," he said, "we will bury it. But before we do so, there is one +thing I have had it in my mind to say--for some time. I want to say it +now. It is about your daughter, Colonel!" + +The Colonel looked at him curiously. + +"My daughter?" he repeated, under his breath. + +Wrayson leaned a little forward. Something new had come into his face. +This was the first time he had suffered such words to pass his +lips--almost the first time he had suffered such thoughts to form +themselves in his mind. + +"I never looked upon myself," he said quietly, "as a particularly +impulsive person. Yet it was an impulse which prompted me to conceal the +truth as to her presence in the flat buildings that night. It was a +serious thing to do, and somehow I fancy that the end is not yet." + +"Why did you do it?" the Colonel asked. "You did not know who she was. It +could not have been that." + +"Why did I do it?" Wrayson repeated. "I can't tell you. I only know that +I should do it again and again if the need came. If I told you exactly +how I felt, it would sound like rot. But I'm going to ask you that +question." + +"Well?" + +The Colonel's grey eyebrows were drawn together. His eyes were keen and +bright. So he might have looked in time of stress; but he was not in the +least like the genial idol of the Sheridan billiard-room. + +"If I came to you to-morrow," Wrayson said, "and told you that I had met +at last the woman whom I wished to make my wife, and that woman was your +daughter, what should you say?" + +"I should be glad," the Colonel answered simply. + +"You and she are, for some unhappy reason, not on speaking terms. That--" + +"Good God!" the Colonel interrupted, "whom do you mean? Whom are you +talking about?" + +"About your daughter--whom I shielded--the companion of the Baroness de +Sturm. Your daughter Louise." + +The Colonel raised his trembling fingers to his forehead. His voice +quivered ominously. + +"Of course! Of course! God help me, I thought you meant Edith! I never +thought of Louise. And Edith has spoken of you lately." + +"I found your younger daughter charming," Wrayson said seriously, "but +it was of your daughter Louise I was speaking. I thought that you would +understand that." + +"My daughter--whom you found--in Morris Barnes' flat--that night?" + +"Exactly," Wrayson answered, "and my question is this. I cannot ask you +why you and she parted, but at least you can tell me if you know of any +reason why I should not ask her to be my wife." + +The Colonel was silent. + +"No!" he said at last, "there is no reason. But she would not consent. I +am sure of that." + +"We will let it go at that," Wrayson answered. "Come!" + +He had chosen his moment for rising so as to pass down the room almost at +the same time as Mr. Bentham and his strange companion. Prolific of +smiles and somewhat elephantine graces, the lady's darkened eyes met +Wrayson's boldly, and finding there some encouragement, she even favoured +him with a backward glance. In the vestibule he slipped a half-crown into +the attendant's hand. + +"See if you can hear the address that lady gives her cabman," he +whispered. + +The boy nodded, and hurried out after them. Wrayson kept the Colonel back +under the pretence of lighting a fresh cigar. When at last they strolled +forward, they met the boy returning. He touched his hat to Wrayson. + +"Alhambra, sir!" he said, quietly. "Gone off alone, sir, in a hansom. +Gentleman walked." + +The Colonel kept silence until they were in the street. + +"Coming to the club?" he asked, a little abruptly. + +"No!" Wrayson answered. + +"You are going after that woman?" the Colonel exclaimed. + +"I am going to the Alhambra," Wrayson answered. "I can't help it. It +sounds foolish, I suppose, but this affair fascinates me. It works on my +nerves somehow. I must go." + +The Colonel turned on his heel. Without another word, he crossed the +Strand, leaving Wrayson standing upon the pavement. Wrayson, with a +little sigh, turned westwards. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE + + +Wrayson easily discovered the object of his search. She was seated upon a +lounge in the promenade, her ample charms lavishly displayed, and her +blackened eyes mutely questioning the passers-by. She welcomed Wrayson +with a smile which she meant to be inviting, albeit she was a little +suspicious. Men of Wrayson's stamp and appearance were not often such +easy victims. + +"Saw you at Luigi's, didn't I?" he asked, hat in hand. + +She nodded, and made room for him to sit down by her side. + +"Did you see the old stick I was with?" she asked. "I don't know why I +was fool enough to go out with him. Trying to pump me about poor old +Barney, too, all the time. Just as though I couldn't see through him." + +"Old Barney!" Wrayson repeated, a little perplexed. + +She laughed coarsely. + +"Oh! come, that won't do!" she declared. "I'm almost sure you're on the +same lay yourself. Didn't I see you at the inquest?--Morris Barnes' +inquest, of course? You know whom I mean right enough." + +"I know whom you mean now," Wrayson admitted. "Yes! I was there. Queer +affair, wasn't it?" + +The lady nodded. + +"I should like a liqueur," she remarked, with apparent irrelevance. +"Benedictine!" + +They were seated in front of a small table, and were at times the object +of expectant contemplation on the part of a magnificent individual in +livery and knee-breeches. Wrayson summoned him and ordered two +Benedictines. + +"Now I don't mind telling you," the lady continued, leaning over towards +him confidentially, "that I'm dead off that old man who came prying round +and took me out to dinner, to pump me about poor Barney! He didn't get +much out of me. For one thing, I don't know much. But the little I do +know I'd sooner tell you than him." + +"You're very kind," Wrayson murmured. "He used to come to these places a +good deal, didn't he?" + +She nodded assent. + +"He was always either here or at the Empire. He wasn't a bad sort, +Barney, although he was just like all the rest of them, close with his +money when he was sober, and chucking it about when he'd had a drop too +much. What did you want to know about him in particular?" + +"Well, for one thing," Wrayson answered, "where he got his money from." + +She shook her head. + +"He was always very close about that," she said. "The only story I ever +heard him tell was that he'd made it mining in South Africa." + +"You have really heard him say that?" Wrayson asked. + +"Half a dozen times," she declared. + +"That proves, at any rate," he remarked thoughtfully, "that there was +some mystery about his income, because I happen to know that he came +back from South Africa a pauper." + +"Very likely," she remarked. "Barney was always the sort who would rather +tell a lie than the truth." + +"Did he say anything to you that night about being in any kind of +danger?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"No! I don't think so. I didn't take particular notice of what he said, +because he was a bit squiffy. I believe he mentioned some thing about a +business appointment that night, but I really didn't take much notice." + +"You didn't tell them anything about that at the inquest," Wrayson +remarked. + +"I know I didn't," she admitted. "You see, I was so knocked over, and I +really didn't remember anything clearly, that I thought it was best to +say nothing at all. They'd only have been trying to ferret things out of +me that I couldn't have told them." + +"I think that you were very wise," Wrayson said. "You don't happen to +remember anything else that he said, I suppose?" + +"No! except that he seemed a little depressed. But there's something else +about Barney that I always suspected, that I've never heard mentioned +yet. Mind you, it may be true or it may not, but I always suspected it." + +"What was that?" Wrayson demanded. + +"I believe that he was married," she declared impressively. + +"Married!" + +Wrayson looked incredulous. It certainly did not seem probable. + +"Where is his wife then?" he asked. "Why hasn't she turned up to claim +his effects? Besides, he lived alone. He was my neighbour, you know. His +brother has taken possession of his flat." + +The lady rather enjoyed the impression she had made. She was not averse, +either, to being seen in so prominent a place in confidential talk with a +man of Wrayson's appearance. It might not be directly remunerative, but +it was likely to do her good. + +"He showed me a photograph once," she continued. "A baby-faced chit of a +girl it was, but he was evidently very proud of it. A little girl of his +down in the country, he told me. Then, do you know this? He was never in +London for Sunday. Every week-end he went off somewhere; and I never +heard of any one who ever saw him or knew where he went to." + +"This is very interesting," Wrayson admitted; "but if he was married, +surely his wife would have turned up by now!" + +"Why should she?" the lady answered. "Don't you see that she very likely +has what all you gentlemen seem to be so anxious about--his income?" + +"By Jove!" Wrayson exclaimed softly. "Of course, if there was +anything mysterious about the source of it, all the more reason for +her to keep dark." + +"Well, that's what I've had in my mind," she declared, summoning the +waiter. "I'll take another liqueur, if you don't mind." + +Wrayson nodded. His thoughts were travelling fast. + +"Did you tell Mr. Bentham this?" he asked. + +"Not I," she answered. "The old fool got about as much out of me as he +deserved--and that's nothing." + +"I'm sure I'm very much obliged," Wrayson answered, drawing out his +pocketbook. "I wonder if I might be allowed--?" + +He glanced at her inquiringly. She nodded. "I'm not proud," she +declared. + + * * * * * + +"As an amateur detective," Wrayson remarked to himself, as he strolled +homewards, "I am beginning rather to fancy myself. And yet--" + +His thoughts had stolen away. He forgot Morris Barnes and the sordid +mystery of which he was the centre. He remembered only the compelling +cause which was driving him towards the solution of it. The night was +warm, and he walked slowly, his hands behind him, and ever before his +eyes the shadowy image of the girl who had brought so many strange +sensations into his somewhat uneventful life. Would he ever see her, he +wondered, without the light of trouble in her eyes, with colour in her +cheeks, and joy in her tone? He thought of her violet-rimmed eyes, her +hesitating manner, her air always as of one who walked hand in hand with +fear. She was not meant for these things! Her lips and eyes were made for +laughter; she was, after all, only a girl. If he could but lift the +cloud! And then he looked upwards and saw her--leaning from the little +iron balcony, and looking out into the cool night. + +He half stopped. She did not move. It was too dark to see her features, +but as he looked upwards a strange idea came to him. Was it a gesture or +some unspoken summons which travelled down to him through the +semi-darkness? He only knew, as he turned and entered the flat, that a +new chapter of his life was opening itself out before him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +DESPERATE WOOING + + +Wrayson felt, from the moment he crossed the threshold of the room, that +he had entered an atmosphere charged with elusive emotion. He was not +sure of himself or of her as she turned slowly to greet him. Only he was +at once conscious that something of that change in her which he had +prophetically imagined was already shining out of her eyes. She was at +once more natural and further removed from him. + +"I am glad," she said simply. "I wanted to say good-bye to you." + +He was stunned for a moment. He had not imagined this. + +She nodded. + +"Good-bye!" he repeated. "You are going away?" + +"To-morrow. Oh! I am glad. You don't know how glad I am." + +She swept past him and sank into an easy-chair. She wore a black +velveteen evening dress, cut rather high, without ornament or relief of +any sort, and her neck gleamed like polished ivory from which creeps +always a subtle shade of pink. Her hair was parted in the middle and +brushed back in little waves, her eyes were full of fire, and her face +was no longer passive. Beautiful she had seemed to him before, but +beautiful with a sort of impersonal perfection. She was beautiful now in +her own right, the beauty of a woman whom nature has claimed for her own, +who acknowledges her heritage. The fear-frozen subjectivity in which he +had yet found enough to fascinate him had passed away. He felt that she +was a stranger. + +"Always," she murmured, "I shall think of London as the city of dreadful +memories. I should like to be going to set my face eastwards or westwards +until I was so far away that even memory had perished. But that is just +where the bonds tell, isn't it?" + +"There are many who can make the bonds elastic," he answered. "It is only +a question of going far enough." + +"Alas!" she answered, "a few hundred miles are all that are +granted to me. And London is like a terrible octopus. Its arms +stretch over the sea." + +"A few hundred miles," he repeated, with obvious relief. "Northward or +southward, or eastward or westward?" + +"Southward," she answered. "The other side of the Channel. That, at +least, is something. I always like to feel that there is sea between me +and a place which I--loathe!" + +"Is London so hateful to you, then?" he asked. + +"Perhaps I should not have said that," she answered. "Say a place of +which I am afraid!" + +He looked across at her. He, too, in obedience to a gesture from her, +was seated. + +"Come," he said, "we will not talk of London, then. Tell me where you +are going." + +She shook her head. + +"To a little Paradise I know of." + +"Paradise," he reminded her, "was meant for two." + +"There will be two of us," she answered, smiling. + +He felt his heart thump against his ribs. + +"Then if one wanted to play the part of intruder?" + +She shook her head. + +"The third person in Paradise was always very much _de trop_," she +reminded him. + +"It depends upon the people who are already there," he protested. + +"My friend," she said, "is in search of solitude, absolute and complete." + +He shook his head. + +"Such a place does not exist," he declared confidently. "Your friend +might as well have stayed at home." + +"She relies upon me to procure it for her," she said. + +A rare smile flashed from Wrayson's lips. + +"You can't imagine what a relief her sex is to me!" he exclaimed. + +"I don't know why," she answered pensively. "Do you know anything about +the North of France, Mr. Wrayson?" + +"Not much," he answered. "I hope to know more presently." + +Her eyes laughed across at him. + +"You know what I said about the third person in Paradise?" + +"I can't admit your Paradise," he said. + +"You are a heretic," she answered. "It is a matter of sex, of course." + +"Naturally! Paradise is so relative. It may be the halo thrown +round a court in the city or a rose garden in the country, any +place where love is!" + +"And may I not love my friend!" she demanded. + +"You may love me," he answered, the passion suddenly vibrating in his +tone. "I will be more faithful than any friend. I will build Paradise for +you--wherever you will! I will build the walls so high that no harm or +any fear shall pass them." + +She waved him back. Something of the old look, which he hated so to see, +was in her face. + +"You must not talk to me like this, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Indeed you +must not." + +"Why not?" he demanded. "If there is a reason I will know it." + +She looked him steadily in the eyes. + +"Can't you imagine one for yourself?" she asked. + +He laughed scornfully. + +"You don't understand," he said. "There is only one reason in the world +that I would admit--I don't even know that I would accept that. The other +things don't count. They don't exist." + +She looked at him a little incredulously. She was still sitting, and he +was standing now before her. Her fingers rested lightly upon the arms of +her chair, she was leaning slightly forward as though watching for +something in his face. + +"Tell me that there is another man," he cried, "that you don't care +for me, that you never could care for me, and I will go away and you +shall never see my face again. But nothing short of that will drive me +from you." + +He spoke quickly, his tone was full of nervous passion. It never occurred +to her to doubt him. + +"You can be what else you like," he continued, "thief, +adventuress--murderess! So long as there is no other man! Come to me and +I will take you away from it all." + +She laughed very softly, and his pulses thrilled at the sound, for there +was no note of mockery there; it was the laugh of a woman who listens to +hidden music. + +"You are a bold lover," she murmured. "Have you been reading romances +lately? Do you know that it is the twentieth century, and I have seen you +three times? You don't know what you say. You can't mean it." + +"By Heaven, I do!" he cried, and for one exquisite moment he held her in +his arms. Then she freed herself with a sudden start. She had lost her +composure. Her cheeks were flushed. + +"Don't!" she cried, sharply. "Remember our first meeting. I am not the +sort of person you imagine. I never can be. There are reasons--" + +He swept them aside. Something seemed to tell him that if he did not +succeed with her now, his opportunity would be gone forever. + +"I will listen to none of them," he declared, standing between her and +the door. "They don't matter! Nothing matters! I choose you for my wife, +and I will have you. I wouldn't care if you came to me from a prison. +Better give in, Louise. I shan't let you escape." + +She had indeed something of the look of a beautiful hunted animal as she +leaned a little towards him, her eyes riveted upon his, her lips a little +parted, her bosom rising and falling quickly. She was taken completely by +surprise. She had not given Wrayson credit for such strength of mind or +purpose. She had believed entirely in her own mastery over him, for any +such assault as he was now making. And she was learning the truth. Love +that makes a woman weak lends strength to the man. Their positions were +becoming reversed. It was he who was dictating to her. + +"I am going away," she said nervously. "You will forget me. You must +forget me." + +"You shall not go away," he answered, "unless I know where. Don't be +afraid. You can keep your secrets, whatever they are. I want to know +nothing. Go on exactly with the life you are leading, if it pleases you. +I shan't interfere. But you are going to be my wife, and you shall not +leave London without telling me about it." + +"I am leaving London," she faltered, "to-morrow." + +"I was thinking," he remarked, calmly, "of taking a little holiday +myself." + +She laughed uneasily. + +"You are absurd," she declared, "and you must go away. Really! The +Baroness will be home directly. I would rather, I would very much rather +that she did not find you here." + +He held out his arms to her. His eyes were bright with the joy of +conquest. + +"I will go, Louise," he answered, "but first I will have my answer--and +no answer save one will do!" + +She bit her lip. She was moved by some emotion, but he was unable, for +the moment, to classify it. + +"I think," she declared, "that you must be the most persistent man +on earth." + +"You are going to find me so," he assured her. + +"Listen," she said firmly, "I will not marry you!" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"On that point," he answered, "I am content to differ from you. +Anything else?" + +She stamped her foot. + +"I do not care for you! I do not wish to marry you!" she repeated. "I am +going away, and I forbid you to follow me." + +"No good!" he declared, stolidly. "I am past all that." + +She held up her finger, and glanced backward out of the window. + +"It is the Baroness," she said. "I must go and open the door." + +For one moment she lay passive in his arms; then he could have sworn that +her lips returned his kiss. She was there when they heard the turning of +a latch-key in the door. With a little cry she slipped away and left him +alone. The outer door was thrown open, and the Baroness stood upon the +threshold. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +STABBED THROUGH THE HEART + + +The Baroness recognized Wrayson with a little shrug of the shoulders. + +"Ah! my dear Mr. Wrayson," she exclaimed, "this is very kind of you. You +have been keeping Louise company, I hope. And see what droll things +happen! It is your friend, Mr. Barnes, who has brought me home this +evening, and who will take a whisky and soda before he goes. Is it not +so, my friend?" + +She turned around, but there was no immediate response. The Baroness +looked over the banisters and beheld her escort in the act of ascending. + +"Coming right along," he called out cheerfully. "It was the cabman who +tried to stop me. He wanted more than his fare. Found he'd tackled the +wrong Johnny this time." + +Mr. Sydney Barnes came slowly into view. He was wearing an evening suit, +obviously too large for him, a made-up white tie had slipped round +underneath his ear, a considerable fragment of red silk handkerchief was +visible between his waistcoat and much crumpled white shirt. An opera +hat, also too large for him, he was wearing very much on the back of his +head, and he was smoking a very black cigar, from which he had failed to +remove the band. He frowned when he saw Wrayson, but followed the +Baroness into the room with a pronounced swagger. + +"You two need no introduction, of course," the Baroness remarked. "I am +not going to tell you where I found Mr. Barnes. I do not expect to be +very much longer in England, so perhaps I am not so careful as I ought to +be. Louise, if she knew, would be shocked. Now, Mr. Wrayson, do not hurry +away. You will take some whisky and soda? I am afraid that my young +friend has not been very hospitable." + +"You are very kind," Wrayson said. "To tell you the truth, I was rather +hoping to see Miss Fitzmaurice again. She disappeared rather abruptly." + +The Baroness shook her finger at him in mock reproach. + +"You have been misbehaving," she declared. "Never mind. I will go and see +what I can do for you." + +She stood for a moment before a looking-glass arranging her hair, and +then left the room humming a light tune. Sydney Barnes, with his hands in +his pockets, flung himself into an easy-chair. + +"I say," he began, "I don't quite see what you're doing here." + +Wrayson looked at him for a moment in supercilious surprise. + +"I scarcely see," he answered, "how my movements concern you." + +Mr. Barnes was unabashed. + +"Oh! chuck it," he declared. "You know very well what I'm thinking of. To +tell you the truth, I've come to the conclusion that there's some +connection between this household and my brothers affairs. That's why I'm +palling on to the Baroness. She's a fine woman--class, you know, and all +that sort of thing, but what I want is the shino! You tumble?" + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"I wish you every success," he said. "Personally, I think that you are +wasting your time here." + +"Perhaps so," Barnes answered. "I'm taking my own risks." + +Wrayson turned away, and at that moment the Baroness re-entered the room. + +"My friend," she said, addressing Wrayson, "I can do nothing for you. +Whether you have offended Louise or made her too happy, I cannot say. But +she will not come down. You will not see her again to-night." + +"I am sorry," Wrayson answered. "She is going away to-morrow, I +understand?" + +The Baroness sighed. + +"Alas!" she declared, "I must not answer any questions. Louise has +forbidden it." + +Wrayson took up his hat. + +"In that case," he remarked, "there remains nothing for me but to wish +you good night!" + +There was a cab on the rank opposite, and Wrayson, after a moment's +hesitation, entered it and was driven to the club. He scarcely expected +to find any one there, but he was in no mood for sleep, and the thought +of his own empty rooms chilled him. Somewhat to his surprise, however, he +found the smoking-room full. The central figure of the most important +group was the Colonel, his face beaming with good-nature, and his cheeks +just a little flushed. He welcomed Wrayson almost boisterously. + +"Come along, Herbert," he cried. "Plenty of room. What'll you have to +drink, and have you heard the news?" + +"Whisky and soda," Wrayson answered, sinking into an easy-chair, "and I +haven't heard any news." + +The Colonel took his cigar from his mouth, and leaned forward in his +chair. He had the appearance of a man who was striving to appear more +grave than he felt. + +"You remember the old chap we saw dining at Luigi's to-night--Bentham, I +think you said his name was?" + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Of course! What about him?" + +"He's dead!" the Colonel declared. + +Wrayson jumped out of his chair. + +"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean it, Colonel!" + +"Unfortunately, I do," the Colonel answered. "He was found dead on the +stairs leading to his office, about ten o'clock to-night. A most +interesting case. The murder, presuming it was a murder, appears to have +been committed--" + +Wrayson was suddenly pale. + +"Murder!" he repeated. "Colonel, do you mean this?" + +The Colonel, who hated being interrupted, answered a little testily. + +"My dear Wrayson," he expostulated, "is this the sort of thing a man +invents for fun? Do listen for a moment, if you can, in patience. It is a +deeply interesting case. If you remember, it was about nine o'clock when +we left Luigi's; Bentham must have gone almost straight to his office, +for he was found there dead a very few minutes after ten." + +"Who killed him, and why?" Wrayson asked breathlessly. + +"That, I suppose, we shall know later," the Colonel answered. "The +police will be on their mettle this time, but it isn't a particularly +easy case. He was found lying on his face, stabbed through the heart. +That is all anybody knows." + +The thoughts went rushing through Wrayson's brain. He remembered the man +as he had seemed only a few hours ago, cold, stonily indifferent to +young Barnes' passionate questions, inflexibly silent, a man who might +easily kindle hatreds, to all appearance without a soft spot or any +human feeling. He remembered the close of their interview, and Sydney +Barnes' rash threat. The suggested idea clothed itself almost +unconsciously with words. + +"I have just seen young Barnes," he said. "He has been at the Empire all +the evening." + +The Colonel lit another cigar. + +"It takes a man of nerve and deliberation," he remarked, "to commit a +murder. From what I have heard of him, I should not imagine your young +friend to be possessed of either. The lady whom he was entertaining, or +rather failing to entertain, at dinner--" + +"I have seen her since," Wrayson interrupted shortly. "She went straight +to the Alhambra." + +The Colonel nodded. + +"I would have insured her against even suspicion," he remarked. "She was +a large, placid woman, of the flabby order of nerves. She will probably +faint when she hears what has happened. She might box a man's ears, but +her arm would never drive a dagger home into his heart, especially with +such beautiful, almost mathematical accuracy. We must look elsewhere, I +fancy, for the person who has paid Bentham's debt to society. Heneage, +here, has an interesting theory." + +Wrayson looked across and found that his eyes met Heneage's. He was +sitting a little in the background, with a newspaper in his hand, which +he was, however, only affecting to read. He was taking note of every word +of the conversation. He was obviously annoyed at the Colonel's reference +to him, but he did his best to conceal it. + +"Scarcely a theory," he remarked, laying down his paper for a moment. "I +can hardly call it that. I only remarked that I happened to know a little +about Bentham, and that his clients, if he had any, were mostly +foreigners, and their business of a shady nature. As a matter of fact, he +was struck off the rolls here some years ago. I forget the case now, but +I know that it was a pretty bad one." + +"So you see," the Colonel resumed, "he was probably in touch with a loose +lot, though what benefit his death could have been to any one it is, of +course, a little hard to imagine. Makes one think, somehow, of this +Morris Barnes affair, doesn't it? I wonder if there is any connection +between the two." + +Heneage laid down his paper now, and abandoned his attitude of +indifferent listener. He was obviously listening for what Wrayson +had to say. + +"Connection of some sort between the two men there certainly was," +Wrayson admitted. "We know that." + +"Exactly," Heneage remarked. "I speak without knowing very much about +the matter, but I am thoroughly convinced of one thing. If you can find +the murderer of Morris Barnes, you will solve, at the same time, the +mystery of Bentham's death. It is the same affair; part and parcel of +the same tangle." + +The Colonel was silent for a few moments. He seemed to be reflecting on +Heneage's words. + +"I believe you are right," he said at last. "I should be curious to know, +though, how you arrived at this decision." + +Heneage looked past him at Wrayson. + +"You should ask Wrayson," he said. + +But Wrayson had risen, and was sauntering towards the door. + +"I'm off," he remarked, looking backwards and nodding his farewells. "If +I stay here any longer, I shall have nightmare. Time you fellows were in +bed, too. How's the Malleni fund, Colonel?" + +The Colonel's face relaxed. A smile of genuine pleasure lit up his +features. + +"Going strong," he declared triumphantly. "We shall ship him off for +Italy next week with a very tidy little cheque in his pocket. Dear old +Dobson gave us ten pounds, and the concert fund is turning out well." + +Wrayson lit a cigarette and looked back from the open door. + +"You're more at home with philanthropy than horrors, Colonel," he +remarked. "Good night, everybody!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE FLIGHT OF LOUISE + + +The Baroness was looking her best, and knew it. She had slept well the +night before, and her eyes were soft and clear. Her maid had been +unusually successful with her hair, and her hat, which had arrived +only that morning from Paris, was quite the smartest in the room. She +was at her favourite restaurant, and her solitary companion was a +good-looking man, added to which the caviar was delightfully fresh, +and the toast crisp and thin. Consequently the Baroness was in a +particularly good temper. + +"I really do wish, my dear friend," she said, smiling across at him, +"that I could do what you ask. But it is not so simple, not so simple as +you think. You say, 'Give me the address of your friend,' You ask me +nicely, and I like you well enough to be glad to do it. But Louise she +say to me, 'Give no one my address! Let no one know where I am gone.'" + +"I'm sure she didn't mean that to apply to me," Wrayson pleaded. + +"Ah! but she even mentioned your name," the Baroness declared. "I say to +her, 'Not even Mr. Wrayson?' and she answered, 'No! No! No!'" + +"And you promised?" he asked. + +"Why, yes! What else could I do?" she replied. "I say to her, 'You are a +very foolish girl, Louise. After you have gone you will be sorry. Mr. +Wrayson will be angry with you, and I shall make myself very, very +agreeable to him, and who knows but he will forget all about you?' But +Louise she only shake her head. She knows her own countrymen too well. +They are so terribly insularly constant." + +"Is that such a very bad quality, Baroness?" + +"Ah! I find it so," she admitted. "I do not like the man who can think of +only one thing, only one woman at a time. He is so dull, he has no +imagination. If he has only one sweetheart, how can he know anything +about us? for in a hundred different women there are no two alike." + +"That is all very well," Wrayson answered, smiling; "but, you see, if a +man cares very much for one particular woman, he hasn't the least +curiosity about the rest of her sex." + +She sighed gently, and her eyes flashed her regrets. Very blue eyes they +were to-day, almost as blue as the turquoises about her throat. + +"They say," she murmured, "that some Englishmen are like that. It is so +much a pity--when they are nice!" + +"I suppose," he suggested, "that yours is the Continental point of view." + +She was silent until the waiter, who was filling her glass with white +wine, had departed. Then she leaned over towards him. Her forehead was a +little wrinkled, her eyebrows raised. She had the half-plaintive air of a +child who is complaining of being unjustly whipped. + +"Yes! I think it is," she answered. "The lover, as I know him, is one who +could not be unkind to a woman. In his heart he is faithful, perhaps, to +one, but for her sake the whole world of beautiful women are objects of +interest to him. He will flirt with them when they will. He is always +their admirer. In the background there may always be what you call the +preference, but that is his secret." + +Wrayson smiled across the table. + +"This is a very dangerous doctrine, Baroness!" he declared. + +"Dangerous?" she murmured. + +"For us! Remember that we are a susceptible race." + +She flung out her hands and shook her head. Susceptible! She denied it +vehemently. + +"It is on the contrary," she declared. "You do not lose your heads or +your hearts very easily, you Englishmen." + +"You do not know us," he protested. + +"I know _you_," she answered. "For myself, I admit it. When I am with a +man who is nice, I try that I may make him, just a little, no more, but +just a little in love with me. It makes things more amusing. It is better +for him, and we are not bored. But with you, _mon ami, I_ know very well +that I waste my time. And so, I ask you instead this question. Tell me +why you have invited me to take luncheon with you." + +She flashed her question across at him carelessly enough, but he felt +that she expected an answer, and that she was not to be deceived. + +"I wanted Miss Fitzmaurice's address," he said. + +"Naturally. But what else?" + +He sighed. + +"I want to know more than you will tell me, I am afraid," he said. "I +want to know why you and Miss Fitzmaurice are living together in London +and leading such an unusual life, and how in Heaven's name you became +concerned in the affairs of Morris Barnes." + +"Ah!" she said. "You want to know that? So!" + +"I do," he admitted. + +"And yet," she remarked, "even for that it was not worth while to make +love to me! You ask so much, my friend, and you give so little." + +"If you--" he began, a little awkwardly. + +Her light laugh stopped him. + +"Ah, no! my friend, you must not be foolish," she said. "I will tell you +what I can for nothing, and that, I am afraid, is very little more than +nothing. But as for offering me a bribe, you must not think of that. It +would not be _comme-il-faut;_ not at all _gentil_." + +"Tell me what you can, then," he begged. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"It is so little," she declared; "only this. We are not adventuresses, +Louise and I. We are living together because we were schoolfellows, and +because we are both anxious to succeed in a certain undertaking to which, +for different reasons, we have pledged ourselves. To succeed we needed +some papers which had come into the hands of Mr. Morris Barnes. That is +why I am civil to that little--what you call bounder, his brother." + +"It sounds reasonable enough, this," Wrayson said; "but what about +the murder of Morris Barnes, on the very night, you know, when Louise +was there?" + +"It is all a very simple matter," the Baroness answered, quietly, "but +yet it is a matter where the death of a few such men would count for +nothing. A few ages ago it would not have been a matter of a dozen Morris +Barnes, no, nor a thousand! Diplomacy is just as cruel, and just as +ruthless, as the battlefield, only it works, down there--underground!" + +"It is a political matter, then?" Wrayson asked swiftly. + +The Baroness smiled. She took a cigarette from her little gold case +and lit it. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed, "you must not try to, what you say, pump me! You can +call it what you will. Only to Louise, as to me, it is very much a +personal affair. Shall we talk now, for a little, of other things?" + +Wrayson sighed. + +"I may not know, then," he begged, "where Louise has gone, or why?" + +"It would not be her wish," the Baroness answered, "that I should +tell you." + +"Very well," Wrayson said, "I will ask you no more questions. Only this. +I have told you of this man Bentham." + +The Baroness inclined her head. He had told her nothing that was +news to her. + +"Was he on your side, or opposed to you?" + +"You are puzzling me," the Baroness confessed. + +"Already," Wrayson explained, "I know as much of the affair as this. +Morris Barnes was in possession of something, I do not know whether it +was documents, or what possible material shape it had, but it brought him +in a considerable income, and both you and some others were endeavouring +to obtain possession of it. So far, I believe that neither of you have +succeeded. Morris Barnes has been murdered in vain; Bentham the lawyer, +who telephoned to me on the night of his death, has shared his fate. To +whose account do these two murders go, yours or the others'?" + +"I cannot answer that question, Mr. Wrayson," the Baroness said. + +"Do you know," Wrayson demanded, dropping his voice a little, "that, but +for my moral, if not actual perjury, Louise herself would have been +charged with the murder of Morris Barnes?" + +"She had a narrow escape," the Baroness admitted. + +"She had a narrow escape," Wrayson declared, "but the unfortunate part of +the affair is, that she is not even now safe!" + +The Baroness looked at him curiously. She was in the act of drawing on +her gloves, but her fingers suddenly became rigid. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +"I mean," Wrayson said, "that another person saw her come out of the +flats that night. It was a friend of mine, who kept silence at first +because he believed that it was a private assignation of my own. Since +then events have occurred to make him think differently. He has gone +over to the other side. He is spending his time with young Sydney +Barnes, and he has set himself to discover the mystery of Morris Barnes' +murder. He has even gone so far as to give me warning that I should be +better out of England." + +"Who is this person?" the Baroness asked calmly. + +"His name is Stephen Heneage, and he is a member of my club, the club to +which Louise's father also belongs," Wrayson replied. + +The Baroness suddenly dropped her veil, but not before Wrayson had seen +a sudden change in her face. He remembered suddenly that Heneage was no +stranger to her, he remembered the embarrassment of their meeting at +the Alhambra. + +"You know him, of course," he repeated. "Heneage is not a man to be +trifled with. He has had experience in affairs of this sort, he is no +ordinary amateur detective." + +"Yes! I know Mr. Stephen Heneage," the Baroness said. "Tell me, does +Louise know?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I have had no opportunity of telling her," he answered. "I might not +have thought so seriously of it, but this morning I received a note +from Heneage." + +"Yes! What did he say?" + +"It was only a line or two," Wrayson answered. "He reminded me of his +previous warning to me to leave England for a time, and he underlined it. +Louise ought to know. I want to tell her!" + +"I am glad you did not tell me this before," the Baroness said, as they +left the room together, "or it would have spoiled my luncheon. I do not +like your friend, Mr. Heneage!" + +"You will give me Louise's address?" he asked. "Some one must see her." + +"I will send it you," the Baroness promised, "before the day is out." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE CHÂTEAU OF ÉTARPE + + +"One would scarcely believe," Wrayson remarked, leaning back in his chair +and drawing in a long deep breath, "that we are within three miles of one +of the noisiest and most bustling of French watering places." + +"It is incredible," his companion admitted. + +They were seated in a garden behind the old inn of the _Lion d'Or_, in +the village of St. Étarpe. Before them was a round table, on whose +spotless white cloth still remained dishes of fruit and a bottle of +wine--not the _vin ordinaire_ which had been served with their repast, +but something which Wrayson had ordered specially, and which the landlord +himself, all smiles and bows, had uncorked and placed before them. +Wrayson produced his cigarette case. + +"How did you hear of this place?" he asked, watching the smoke curl +upwards into the breathless air. "I fancy that you and I are the only +guests here." + +Wrayson's companion, tall, broad-shouldered, and heavily bearded, was +busy filling a pipe from a pouch by his side. His features were +unmistakably Saxon, and his cheeks were tanned, as though by much +exposure to all sorts of weathers. He was still apparently on the right +side of middle age, but his manners were grave, almost reserved. + +"I was in the neighbourhood many years ago," he answered. "I had a fancy +to revisit the place. And you?" + +"I discovered it entirely by accident," Wrayson admitted. "I walked out +from Chourville this morning, stayed here for some luncheon, and was so +delighted that I took a room and went straight back for my bag. There +isn't an emperor in Europe who has so beautiful a dining-room as this!" + +Together they looked across the valley, a wonderful panorama of vine-clad +slopes and meadows, starred with many-coloured wild flowers, through +which the river wound its way, now hidden, now visible, a thin line of +gleaming quicksilver. Tall poplars fringed its banks, and there were +white cottages and farmhouses, mostly built in the shelter of the +vine-covered cliffs. To the left a rolling mass of woods was pierced by +one long green avenue, at the summit of which stretched the grey front +and towers of the Château de St. Étarpe. Wrayson looked long at the +fertile and beautiful country, which seemed to fade so softly away in the +horizon; but he looked longest at the chateâu amongst the woods. + +"I wonder who lives there," he remarked. "I meant to have asked +the waiter." + +"I can tell you," the stranger said. "The château belongs to the Baroness +de Sturm." + +"A Frenchwoman?" Wrayson asked. + +"Half French, half Belgian. She has estates in both countries, I +believe," his companion answered. "As a matter of fact, I believe that +this château is hers in her own right as a daughter of the Étarpes. She +married a Belgian nobleman." + +"You seem well acquainted with the neighbourhood," Wrayson remarked. + +"I have been here before," was the somewhat short answer. + +Wrayson produced his card-case. + +"As we seem likely to see something of one another during the next few +days, _nolens volens_," he remarked, "may I introduce myself? My name is +Wrayson, Herbert Wrayson, and I come from London." + +The stranger took the card a little doubtfully. + +"I am much obliged," he said. "I do not carry a card-case, but my name +is Duncan." + +"An Englishman, of course?" Wrayson remarked smiling. + +"I am English," Mr. Duncan answered, "but I have not been in England for +many years." + +There was something about his manner which forbade any further +questioning on Wrayson's part. The two men sat together in silence, and +Wrayson, although not of a curious turn of mind, began to feel more than +an ordinary interest in his companion. One thing he noticed in +particular. Although, as the sun sank lower, the beauties of the +landscape below increased, Duncan's eyes scarcely for a moment rested +upon them. He had turned his chair a little, and he sat directly facing +the chateâu. The golden cornfields, the stained-glass windows of the grey +church rising like a cathedral, as it were, in the midst of the +daffodil-starred meadows, caught now with the flood of the dying sunlight +mingled so harmoniously with their own time-mellowed richness, the +increasing perfume of the flowers by which they were surrounded,--none of +these things seemed for one moment to distract his attention. Steadily +and fixedly he gazed up that deep green avenue, empty indeed of any +moving object, and yet seemingly not empty to him. For he had the air of +one who sees beyond the world of visible objects, of one who sees things +dimmed to those of only natural powers. With what figures, Wrayson +wondered, idly, was he peopling that empty avenue, what were the fancies +which had crept out from his brain and held him spellbound? He had +admitted a more or less intimate acquaintance with the place: was he, +perhaps, a former lover of the Baroness, when she had been simply Amy de +St. Étarpe? Wrayson forgot, for a while, his own affairs, in following +out these mild speculations. The soft twilight stole down upon them; here +and there little patches of grey mist came curling up the valley. A bat +came flying about their heads, and Wrayson at last rose. + +"I shall take a stroll." he remarked, "and turn in. Good night, if I +don't see you again!" + +The man named Duncan turned his head. + +"Good night!" he said, mechanically. + +Wrayson walked down the garden and passed through a wicket-gate into the +broad white road. Setting his back to the village, he came, in a few +minutes, to the great entrance gate of the château, hung from massive +stone pillars of great age, and themselves fashioned of intricate and +curiously wrought ironwork. The gates themselves were closed fast, and +the smaller ones on either side, intended for pedestrians, were fastened +with a padlock. Wrayson stood for a moment looking through the bars into +the park. The drive ran for half a mile perfectly straight, and then, +taking an abrupt bend, passed upwards into the woods, amongst which was +the château. + +"What do you want?" an abrupt voice demanded. + +Wrayson looked round in surprise. A man in gamekeeper's clothes had +issued from the lodge, carrying a gun. + +"Good evening!" Wrayson said. "Is it permitted for the public to enter +the park?" + +"By no means," was the surly answer. "Cannot monsieur see that the gates +are locked?" + +"I understood from the landlord of the _Lion d'Or_" Wrayson said, "that +the villagers were allowed the privilege of walking in the park." + +The man looked at him suspiciously. + +"You are not of the village," he said. + +"I am staying there," Wrayson answered. + +"It makes nothing. For the present, villagers and every one are forbidden +to enter. There are visitors at the château." + +Wrayson turned away. + +"Very well," he said. "Good night!" + +The man did not answer him. Wrayson continued to climb the hill which +skirted the park. He did not turn round, but he heard the gates open, and +he was convinced that he was being watched, if he was not followed. He +kept on, however, until he came to some more iron gates, from which +stretched the grass avenue which led straight to the gardens of the +château. Dimly, through the gathering dusk, he caught a view of it, which +was little more than an impression; silver grey and quiet with the peace +which the centuries can bring, it seemed to him, with its fantastic +towers, and imperfectly visible outline, like a palace of dreams rather +than a dwelling house, however magnificent, of material stone and brick. +An owl flew out from the trees a few yards to the left of him, and +drifted slowly over his head, with much flapping of wings, and a weird, +soft call, faintly answered in the distance by his mate; from far away +down in the valley came the slow ringing of a single evening bell. Save +for these things, a silence almost wonderful reigned. Gradually Wrayson +began to feel that sense of soothed nerves, of inexpressible relief, +which Nature alone dispenses--her one unequalled drug! All the agitation +and turmoil of the last few months seemed to fall away from him. He felt +that he had been living in a world of false proportions; that the maze of +doubts and fears through which he had wandered was, after all, no part of +life itself, merely a tissue of irrelevant issues, to which his distorted +imagination had affixed a purely fictitious importance. What concern of +his was it how Morris Barnes had lived or died? And who was Bentham that +his fate should ever disturb him? The secrets of other people were theirs +to keep. His own secret was more wonderful by far. Alone, from amidst the +tangle of his other emotions, he felt its survival--more than its +survival, its absolute conquest of all other feelings and considerations. +It was truth, he knew, that men sought after in the quiet places, and it +was the truth which he had found. If he could but see her coming down the +avenue, coming to him across the daisy-strewn grass, beneath the shadow +of the stately poplars! The very thought set his heart beating like a +boy's. He felt the blood singing in his veins, the love-music swelling in +his heart. He shook the gates. They, too, were padlocked. Then he +listened. There was no sound of any footfall in the road. He moved a few +steps higher up, and, making use of the pillars of the gate, he climbed +on to the wall. It was a six-foot drop, but he came down noiselessly +into a bed of moss. Once more he paused to listen. There was no sound +save the burring of some night insect over his head. Stealthily, and +keeping in the shadow of the trees, he began to climb the grassy avenue +towards the château. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A PASSIONATE PILGRIM + + +It seemed to Wrayson, as by and by he began to make bolder and more +rapid progress, that it was an actual fairy world into which he was +passing with beating heart and this strange new sense of delicious +excitement. As he drew nearer, the round Norman towers and immense grey +front of the château began to take to themselves more definite shape. +The gardens began to spread themselves out; terraced lawns, from whose +flower-beds, now a blurred chaos so far as colour was concerned, waves +of perfume came stealing down to him; statuary appeared, white and +ghostly in the half light, and here and there startlingly lifelike; +there were trimmed shrubs, and a long wall of roses trailed down from +the high stone balcony. But, as yet, there was no sound or sign of human +life! That was to come. + +Wrayson came to a pause at last. He had passed from the shelter of the +woods into a laurel walk, but further than this he could not go without +being plainly visible to any one in the château. So he waited and +watched. There were lights, he could see now, behind many of the ground +floor windows of the chateâu, and more than once he fancied that he could +catch the sound of music. He tried to fancy in which room she was, to +project his passionate will through the twilight, so that she should come +to him. But the curtains remained undrawn, and the windows closed. Still +Wrayson waited! + +Then at last Providence intervened. Above the top of the woods, over on +the other side of the château, came first a faint lightening in the sky, +which gradually deepened into a glow. Slowly the rim of the moon crept +up, and very soon the spectral twilight was at an end. The shadowy +landscape became real and vivid. It was a new splendour creeping softly +into the night. Wrayson moved a little further back into his shelter, and +even as he did so one of the lower windows of the château was thrown +open, and two women, followed by a man, stepped out. Their appearance was +so sudden that Wrayson felt his breath almost taken away. He leaned a +little forward and watched them eagerly. + +The woman, who was foremost of the little group, was a stranger to him, +although her features, and a somewhat peculiar headdress which she wore, +seemed in a sense familiar. She was tall and dark, and she carried +herself with the easy dignity of a woman of rank. Her face was thoughtful +and her expression sweet; if she was not actually beautiful, she was at +least a woman whom it was impossible to ignore. But Wrayson glanced at +her only for a minute. It was Louise who stood by her side!--the music of +her voice came floating down to him. Heavens! had he ever realized how +beautiful she was? He devoured her with his eyes, he strained his nerves +to hear what they were saying. He was ridiculously relieved to see that +the man who stood by their side was grey-headed. He was beginning to +realize what love was. Jealousy would be intolerable. + +They moved about the terrace. He scarcely knew whether he hoped or feared +the more that they would descend and come nearer to him. After all, it +was cruelly tantalizing. He dared not disobey the Baroness, or he would +have stepped boldly from his hiding-place and gone up to them. But that, +by the terms of his promise, was impossible. He was to make his presence +known to Louise only if he could do so secretly. He was not to accost her +in the presence of any other person. It might be days or weeks before the +opportunity came--or it might--it might be minutes! For, almost without +warning, she was alone. The others had left her, with farewells, if any, +of the briefest. She came forward to the grey stone parapet, and, with +her head resting upon her hand, looked out towards the woods. + +His heart began to beat faster--his brain was confused. Was there any +chance that she would descend into the gardens--dare he make a signal +to her? Her head and shoulders were bare, and a slight breeze had +sprung up during the last few minutes. Perhaps she would feel the cold +and go in! Perhaps-- + +He watched her breathlessly. She had abandoned her thoughtful attitude +and was standing upright, looking around her. She looked once at the +window. She was apparently undecided whether to go in or not. Wrayson +prayed then, if he had never prayed before. He didn't know to whom! He +was simply conscious of an intense desire, which seemed somehow +formulated into an appeal. Before he was fully conscious of it, she was +coming down the steps. She stood on the edge of the lawn for a moment, as +though considering; then, carefully raising her skirts in both hands, she +picked her way amongst the flower-beds, coming almost directly towards +him. Glancing round, he saw her objective--a rustic seat under a dark +cedar tree, and he saw, too, that she must pass within a few feet of +where he stood. She walked as one dreaming, or whose thoughts are far +distant, her head thrown back, her eyes half closed. The awakening, when +it came, was sudden enough. + +"Louise," he called to her softly, "Louise!" + +She dropped her skirts. For a moment he feared that she was going +to cry out. + +"Who is that?" she asked sharply. + +"It is I, Herbert Wrayson," he answered. "Don't be afraid. Shall I come +out to you, or will you come down the laurel path?" + +"You!" she murmured. "You!" + +He saw the light in her face, and his voice was hoarse with passion. + +"Come," he cried, "or I must fetch you! Louise! Sweetheart!" + +She came towards him a little timidly, her eyebrows arched, a divine +smile playing about her lips. She stood at the entrance to the laurel +grove and peered a little forward. + +"Where are you?" she asked. "Is it really you? I think that I am a little +afraid! Oh!" + +He took her into his arms with a little laugh of happiness. Time and life +itself stood still. Her feeble remonstrances were swept away in the tide +of his passion. His lips hung burning against hers. + +"My sweetheart!" he murmured. "Thank God you came!"... + +She disengaged herself presently. A clock from the stables was striking. +She counted the hours. + +"Eleven o'clock!" she exclaimed. "Herbert, how long have I been here?" + +"Don't ask me that," he answered. "Only tell me how long you are +going to stay." + +"Not another minute, really," she declared. "They will be sending out +search parties for me directly. And--Herbert--how did you get here?" she +demanded anxiously. + +"I climbed over the wall," he answered cheerfully. "There didn't seem to +be any other way." + +She seemed almost incredulous. + +"Didn't you see any watchmen?" she asked. + +"There was one at the gates," he answered. "I fancied he followed me up +the road, but I gave him the slip all right." + +"Be careful how you go back," she begged. "This place is supposed to be +closely watched." + +"Watched! Why?" he asked. "Are you afraid of robbers?" + +"How much did the Baroness tell you?" she asked. + +"Nothing, except that I should find you here," he declared. "She made me +promise that I would wait for an opportunity of seeing you alone." + +"And why," she asked, "have you come?" + +He took her into his arms again. + +"I have learnt what love is," he murmured, "and I have forgotten the +other things." + +"That is all very well," she laughed, smoothing out her hair; "but the +other things may be very important to me." + +"A man named Stephen Heneage has taken up this Barnes affair," he +answered. "He saw you leave the flats that night, and he is likely, if he +thinks that it might lead to anything, to give the whole show away. He +warned me to get away from England and--but you want the truth, don't +you? All these are excuses! I came because I wanted you!--because I +couldn't live without you, Louise! Couldn't we steal away somewhere and +never go back? Why need we? We could go to Paris to-morrow, catch the +Orient express the next day--I know a dozen hiding-places where we should +be safe enough. We will make our own world and our own life--and forget!" + +"Forget!" She drew a little away from him. Her tone chilled him. +"Herbert," she said, "whatever happens, I must go now--this moment. Where +are you stopping?" + +"The _Lion d'Or_," he answered, "down in the village." + +"I will send a note in the morning," she said eagerly. "Only you must go +now, dear. Some one will be out to look for me, and I cannot think--I +must have a little time to decide. Be very careful as you go back. If you +are stopped, be sure and make them understand that you are an Englishman. +Good night!" + +He kissed her passionately. She yielded to his embrace, but almost +immediately drew herself away. He clutched at her hand, but she eluded +him. With swift footsteps she crossed the lawn. Just as she reached the +terrace, the windows opened once more and some one called her name. + +"I am coming in now," he heard her answer. "It has been such a +wonderful night!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + +The landlord of the _Lion d'Or,_ who had appeared for a moment to chat +with his guests while they took their morning coffee, pointed downwards +into the valley, where little clouds of mist hung over the lowlands. + +"The _messieurs_ will find themselves hot to-day," he remarked. "Here, +only, there will be a breeze. Eleven hundred feet up, and only three +miles from the sea! It is wonderful, eh?" + +Wrayson pointed across towards the château, whose towers rose from the +bosom of the cool green woods. + +"There, also," he said, "it will be very pleasant. The château is as high +as we are, is it not so?" + +The landlord shrugged his shoulders. + +"There is little difference," he admitted, "and in the woods there is +always shade. But who may go there? Never was an estate kept so zealously +private, and, does monsieur know? Since yesterday a new order has been +issued. The villagers were forbidden even their ancient rights of walking +across the park! The head forester has posted a notice in the village." + +"I have heard something of it," Wrayson admitted. "Has any reason been +given. Are the family in residence there?" + +The landlord shook his head. + +"Madame la Baronne was never so exacting," he replied. "One hears that +she has lent the château to friends. Two ladies are there, and one +gentleman. It is all." + +"Do you know who they are?" Wrayson asked. + +The landlord assumed an air of mystery. + +"One," he said, "is a young English lady. The other--well, they call her +Madame de Melbain." + +"What?" + +The exclamation came like a pistol-shot from Wrayson's fellow-guest at +the inn, who, up to now, had taken no part in the conversation. He had +turned suddenly round, and was facing the startled landlord. + +"Madame de Melbain," he repeated. "Monsieur, perhaps, knows the lady?" + +There was a moment's silence. Then the man who had called himself Duncan +looked away, frowning. + +"No!" he said, "I do not know her. The name is familiar, but there is no +lady of my acquaintance bearing it at present." + +The landlord looked a little disappointed. + +"Ah!" he remarked, "I had hoped that monsieur would have been able to +give us a little information. There are many people in the village who +would like to know who this Madame de Melbain is, for it is since her +coming that all has been different. The park has been closed, the +peasants and farmers have received orders forbidding them to accept +boarders at present, and I myself am asked--for a consideration, I +admit--to receive no further guests. Naturally, we ask ourselves, +monsieur, what does it mean? One does not wish to gossip, but there is +much here to wonder at!" + +"What is she like, this Madame de Melbain?" Duncan asked. + +"No one has seen her, monsieur," the landlord answered. "She arrived in +a close carriage, since when she has not passed the lodge gates. She has +her own servants who wait upon her. Without doubt she is a person of some +importance! Possibly, though, she is eccentric. They say that every +entrance to the château is guarded, and that a cordon of men are always +watching." + +Wrayson laughed. + +"A little exaggeration, my friend, there, eh?" + +The landlord shrugged his shoulders. + +"One cannot tell," he declared. "This, at least, is singular," he +continued, bending forward confidentially. "Since the arrival of these +two ladies several strangers have been observed about the place, some of +whom have endeavoured to procure lodgings. They spoke French, but they +were not Frenchmen or Englishmen. True, this may be a coincidence, but +one can never tell. Monsieur has any further commands?" + +Monsieur had none, and the landlord withdrew, smiling and bowing. + +Duncan leaned across the table. + +"My French," he said deliberately, "is rotten. I couldn't understand half +of what that fellow said. Do you mind repeating it to me?" + +Wrayson did so, and his companion listened moodily. When he had finished, +Duncan was gazing steadfastly over towards the château, and knocking the +ashes from his pipe. + +"Sounds a little feudal, doesn't it?" he remarked, drawing his pouch +from his pocket. "However, I don't suppose it is any concern of yours +or of mine." + +Wrayson made no direct answer. He was fully conscious that his companion +was watching him closely, and he affected to be deeply interested in the +selection of a cigarette. + +"No!" he said at last; "it is no concern of ours, of course. And yet one +cannot help feeling a little interested. I noticed myself that the lodge +gates of the château were rather strictly guarded." + +"Very likely," the other answered. "Women of fashion who suffer from +nerves take strange fancies nowadays. This Madame de Melbain is probably +one of these." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Very likely," he admitted. "What are you going to do with +yourself all day?" + +"Loaf! I am going to lie down in the fields there amongst the wild +flowers, in the shade of the woods," Duncan answered; "that is, if +one may take so great a liberty with the woods of madame! This sort +of country rather fascinates me," he added thoughtfully. "I have +lived so long in a land where the vegetation is a jungle and the +flowers are exotics. There is a species of exaggeration about it all. +I find this restful." + +"Africa?" Wrayson asked. + +The other nodded silently. He did not seem inclined to continue the +conversation. + +"You are the second man I have met lately who has come home from Africa," +Wrayson remarked, "and you represent the opposite poles of life." + +"It is very possible," Duncan admitted. "We are a polyglot lot who come +from there." + +"You were in the war, of course?" Wrayson asked. + +"I was in the war," Duncan answered, "almost to the finish. Afterwards I +went into Rhodesia, and incidentally made money. That's all I have to +say about Africa. I hate the country, and I don't want to talk about it. +See you later, I suppose." + +He rose from his chair and stretched himself. Across the lawn the +landlord came hurrying, his face perturbed and uneasy. His bow to Wrayson +was subtly different. Here was perhaps an aristocrat under an assumed +name, a person to be, without doubt, conciliated. + +"Monsieur," he announced, with a little flourish of the white serviette +which, from habit, he was carrying, "there is outside a young lady from +the château who is inquiring for you." + +"Which way?" Wrayson demanded anxiously. + +"Monsieur will be pleased to follow me," the landlord answered. + +Louise was alone in a victoria, drawn up before the front door of the +inn. Wrayson saw at once that something had happened to disturb her. Even +under her white veil he knew that she was pale, and that there were rings +under her eyes. She leaned towards him and held out her hand in +conventional manner for the benefit of the landlord, who lingered upon +the steps. + +"Come round to the other side of the carriage, Herbert," she said. "I +have something to say to you. The coachman does not understand English. I +have tried him." + +Wrayson crossed behind the carriage and stood by her side. + +"Herbert," she asked, anxiously, "will you do something for me, something +I want you to do very much?" + +"If I can," he answered simply. + +"You can do this," she declared. "It is very easy. I want you to leave +this place this morning, go away, anywhere! You can go back to London, or +you can travel. Only start this morning." + +"Willingly," he answered, "on one condition." + +"What is it?" she asked quickly. + +"That you go with me," he declared. + +She shook her head impatiently. + +"You know that is not what I mean," she said reproachfully. "I was mad +last night. You took me by surprise and I forgot everything. I was awake +all night. This morning I can see things clearly. Nothing--of that +sort--is possible between you and me. So I want you to go away!" + +He shook his head, gently but firmly. + +"It isn't possible, Louise," he said. "You mustn't ask me to do anything +of that sort after last night. It's too late you see, dear. You belong to +me now. Nothing can alter that." + +"It is not too late," she answered passionately. "Last night was just +an hour of madness. I shall cut it out of my life. You must cut it out +of yours." + +He leaned over till his head nearly touched hers, and under the holland +dust-sheet which covered her knees he gripped her hand. + +"I will not," he answered. "I will not go away. You belong to me, and I +will have you!" + +She looked at him for a moment without speech. Wrayson's features, more +distinguished in a general way by delicacy than strength, had assumed a +curiously set and dogged appearance. His eyes met hers kindly but +mercilessly. He looked like a man who has spoken his last word. + +"Herbert," she murmured, "there are things which you do not know and +which I cannot tell you, but they stand between us! They must stand +between us forever!" + +"Of that," he said, "I mean to be the judge. And until you tell me what +they are, I shall treat them as though they did not exist." + +"I came here," she said, "to ask you, to beg you to go away." + +"Then I am afraid you must write your mission down a failure," he +answered doggedly, "for I refuse to go!" + +Her eyes flashed at him from underneath her veil. He felt the pressure +of her fingers upon his hand. He heard a little sigh--could it have been +of relief? + +"If I failed--" she began. + +"And you have failed," he said decidedly. + +"I was to bring you," she continued, "an invitation to dine to-night at +the château. It is only a verbal one, but perhaps you will forgive that." + +The colour streamed into his cheeks. He could scarcely believe his ears. + +"Louise!" he exclaimed, "you mean it?" + +"Yes!" she answered softly. "It would be better for you, better, perhaps, +for me, if you would do as I ask--if you would go away and forget! But if +you will not do that, there is no reason why you should not come to the +château. A carriage will arrive for you at seven o'clock." + +"And you will come with me again into the gardens?" he whispered +passionately. + +"Perhaps," she murmured. + +The horses, teased by the flies, tossed their heads, and the jingling of +harness reminded Louise that half the village, from various vantage +points, were watching the interview between the young lady from the +château and the visitor at the inn. + +"I must go at once," she said to Wrayson. "About to-night, do not be +surprised at anything you see at the château. I have no time to say more. +If you notice anything that seems to you at all unusual, accept it +naturally. I will explain afterwards." + +She spoke a word to the immovable man on the box, and waved her hand to +Wrayson as the horses started forward. They were round the corner in a +moment, and out of sight. Wrayson turned back to the inn, but before he +had taken half a dozen paces he stopped short. He had happened to glance +towards the upper windows of the small hotel, and he caught a sudden +vision of a man's face--a familiar face, transformed, rigid, yet with +staring eyes following the departing carriage. Wrayson himself was +conscious of a quick shock of surprise, followed by a sense of +apprehension. What could there possibly have been in the appearance of +Louise to have brought a look like that into the face of his +fellow-guest? + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE MAN IN THE YELLOW BOOTS + + +The two men did not meet again until luncheon-time, Anglicized into a +one-o'clock meal for their benefit. Already seated at the table they +found a short fair man, in the costume of a pedestrian tourist. He wore a +tweed knickerbocker suit, and a knapsack lay upon the grass by his side. +As Wrayson and his fellow-guest arrived almost at the same time, the +newcomer rose and bowed. + +"Good morning, gentlemen!" he said. "I trust you will permit me a seat at +your table. It appears to be the only one." + +Duncan contented himself with a nod. Wrayson felt compelled to be a +little more civil. The man certainly seemed harmless enough. + +"A very delightful spot, gentlemen," he continued, "and a fine, a very +fine church that in the valley. I am spending my holiday taking +photographs of churches of a certain period in this vicinity. I am +looking forward to explore this one." + +"I am afraid," Wrayson remarked, "that I do not know much of +ecclesiastical architecture, but the aesthetic effect of this one, at +least, is very fine." + +The newcomer nodded. + +"You are an artist perhaps, sir?" he asked innocently. + +"I hope so--in some degree," Wrayson answered. + +"Every one is fundamentally an artist, I suppose, who is capable of +appreciating a work of beauty." + +Duncan smiled slightly to himself. So far he had not spoken. + +"It is all new country to me," the newcomer continued, "but from what I +have seen of it, I should think it a grand place for painters. Not much +for the ordinary tourist, eh?" + +"That depends," Wrayson answered, "upon the ordinary tourist." + +"Exactly! Quite so!" the little man agreed. "Of course, if one wanted a +quiet time, what could be better than this? There must be others who +think so besides yourselves." + +"Who?" Wrayson asked. + +"Your fellow-guests here." + +"We have no fellow-guests," Wrayson answered, a little incautiously. + +The newcomer leaned back in his chair with a disconcerted look. + +"Then I wonder why," he exclaimed, "the landlord told me that he had not +a single room." + +Wrayson bit his lip. + +"I fancy," he said, "that he is not in the habit of having people +stay here." + +"I am afraid," the little fair man said, "that it is not an hospitable +village. I tried to get a room elsewhere, but, alas! with no success. +They do not seem to want tourists at St. Étarpe." + +Wrayson looked at the knapsack, at the camera, and at the little man +himself. He spoke English easily, and without any trace of an accent. +His clothes, too, had the look of having come from an English +ready-made shop. Yet there was something about the man himself not +altogether British. + +"I fancy the people are busy getting ready for the harvest," Wrayson +remarked at last. "You will find lots of places as pretty as this along +the coast." + +"Perhaps so," the visitor admitted, "and yet when one has taken a fancy +to a place, it seems a pity to have to leave it so soon. You couldn't +speak a word to the landlord for me, sir, I suppose--you or your friend. +I don't fancy he understood my French very well." + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I'm afraid it wouldn't be any use," he said. "As a matter of fact, I +know that he does not intend to take any more visitors. He has not the +staff to deal with them." + +"It is a pity," the little man said dejectedly. "I think that I must try +again in the village. By the by, sir, perhaps you can tell me to whom the +château there belongs?" + +"Madame la Baronne de Sturm," Wrayson answered. "At least, so our host +told me yesterday." + +"It is a very beautiful place--very beautiful," the tourist said +reverently. "I dare say there is a chapel there, too! Can one gain +admission there, do you know, sir?" + +Wrayson laid down his knife and fork. + +"Look here," he said good-humouredly, "I'm not a guide-book, you know, +and I only arrived here yesterday myself. You've reached the limit of my +information. You had better try the landlord. He will tell you all that +you want to know." + +Duncan pushed his chair back. He had eaten very little luncheon, but he +was filling his pipe preparatory to leaving the table. As soon as it +began to draw, he rose and turned to Wrayson. The little tourist he +absolutely ignored, as he had done all the time during the meal. + +"I should like a word with you before you go out," he said. + +Wrayson nodded, and followed him in a few minutes to the summer-house at +the end of the lawn. Duncan did not beat about the bush. + +"That little brute over there," he said, inclining his head towards the +table, "is neither an Englishman nor a tourist. I have seen him before, +and I never forget a face." + +"What is he then?" Wrayson asked. + +"Heaven knows what he is now," Duncan answered. "I saw him last at +Colenso, where he narrowly escaped being shot for a spy. He is either a +Dutchman or a German, and whatever he may be up to here, I'll swear +ecclesiastical architecture is not his game." + +There was a moment's silence. Wrayson had turned involuntarily towards +the château, and Duncan had followed suit. They both looked up the +broad green avenue to where the windows of the great building flashed +back the sunlight. At the same moment their mutual action was realized +by both of them. + +Wrayson first turned away and glanced round at the table which they had +just quitted. The little man, who was still seated there, had lit a cigar +and was talking to the waiter. He looked back again and moved his head +thoughtfully in the direction of the château. + +"He asked questions about the château," Wrayson remarked. "Do you suppose +that there can be anything going on there to interest him?" + +"You should know better than I," Duncan answered. "You received a visit +this morning from one of the two ladies who are staying there." + +Wrayson turned a little pale. He looked at Duncan steadily for a moment. +A giant in height, his features, too, were of a large and resolute type. +His eyes were clear and truthful; his expression, notwithstanding a +certain gloom which scarcely accorded with his years and apparent +health, was unmistakably honest. Wrayson felt instinctively that he was +to be trusted. + +"Look here," he said, "I should like to tell you the truth--as much of it +as is necessary. I happen to know that the young lady with whom you saw +me talking this morning, and who is a friend of the Baroness de Sturm's, +is suspected in certain quarters of being implicated in a--criminal +affair which took place recently in London. I myself, in a lesser degree, +am also under suspicion. I came over here to warn her." + +Duncan was looking very grave indeed. + +"In a criminal affair," he repeated. "That is a little vague." + +"I am sorry," Wrayson answered, "but I cannot very well be more +explicit. The matter is one in which a good many other people are +concerned, and I might add that it is a hopeless mystery to me. All I +know is that a crime was committed; that this young lady was present +under suspicious circumstances; that I, in certain evidence I had to +give, concealed the fact of her presence; and that now a third person +turns up, who also knew of the young lady's presence, but who was not +called upon to give evidence, who is working on his own account to clear +up the whole affair. He happens to be a friend of mine, and he warned me +frankly to clear out." + +"I am beginning to follow you," Duncan said thoughtfully. "Now what +about Madame de Melbain?" + +"I know absolutely nothing of her," Wrayson answered. "I found out where +the young lady was from the Baroness de Sturm, with whom she was living +in London, and I came over to warn her." + +"The young lady was living with the Baroness de Sturm?" Duncan repeated. +"Is she, then, an orphan?" + +"No!" Wrayson answered. "She is, for some reason--I do not know +why--estranged from her family. Now the question arises, has this fellow +here come over to track her down? Is he an English detective?" + +Duncan turned deliberately round and stared at the person whom they were +discussing. + +"I should doubt it very much," he answered. "For my part, I don't believe +for a moment that he is an Englishman at all." + +"I am very glad to hear you say so," Wrayson declared. "But the question +is, if he is not on this business, what the devil is he doing here?" + +"Have you the _entrée_ to the chateâu?" Duncan asked abruptly. + +"I am invited to dine there this evening," Wrayson answered. + +"Then, if I were you," Duncan said, "I should make a point of +ascertaining, if you can, the personality of this Madame de Melbain." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"I shall see her, of course," he said, "and I will do so." + +"My own idea," Duncan said deliberately, "is that it is in connection +with her presence here that the landlord of the inn and the villagers +have received these injunctions about strangers. Try and find out what +you can about her, and in the meantime I will look after the gentleman +over there. He wants to be friendly--I will make a companion of him. When +you come back to-night we will have another talk." + +"It's awfully good of you," Wrayson said. "And now--I've one thing +more to say." + +Duncan nodded. + +"Go on," he said. + +"I have taken you into my confidence so far as was possible," Wrayson +said slowly. "I am going to ask you a question now." + +"I cannot promise to answer it," Duncan declared, taking up his pipe and +carefully refilling it. + +"Naturally! But I am going to ask it," Wrayson said. "An hour or so ago I +was talking to the young lady in front of the inn, and you were watching +us. I saw your face at the window as she was driving off." + +"Well?" + +The monosyllable was hard and dry. + +"You are neither an inquisitive nor an emotional person," Wrayson said. +"I am sure of that. I want an explanation." + +"Of what?" + +"Of your suddenly becoming both!" + +Duncan had lit his pipe now, and smoked for a few moments furiously. + +"I will not bandy words with you," he said at last. "You want an +explanation which I cannot give." + +Wrayson looked as he felt, dissatisfied. + +"Look here," he said, "I'm not asking for your confidence. I'm simply +asking you to explain why the sight of that young lady should be a matter +of emotion to you. You know who she is, I am convinced. What else?" + +Duncan shook his head. + +"I'm sorry," he said. "You may trust me or not, as you like. All I can +say about myself is this. I've been up against it hard--very hard. So far +as regards the ordinary affairs of life I simply don't count. I'm a +negation--a purely subjective personage. I may be able to help you a +little here--I shall certainly never be in your way. My interest in the +place--there, I will tell you that--is purely of a sentimental nature. My +interest in life itself is something of the same sort. Take my advice. +Let it go at that." + +"I will," Wrayson declared, with sudden heartiness. + +Duncan nodded. + +"I'll go and look after our little friend in the yellow boots," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +MADAME DE MELBAIN + + +Punctually at half-past seven the carriage arrived to take Wrayson to the +château. A few minutes' drive along a road fragrant with the perfume of +hay, and with the pleasant sound of the reaping machines in his ears, and +the carriage turned into the park through the great iron gates, which +opened this time without demur. By the side of the road was a clear trout +stream, a little further away a herd of deer stood watching the carriage +pass. The park was uncultivated but picturesque, becoming more wooded as +they climbed the hill leading to the chateâu. Wrayson smiled to himself +as he remembered that this magnificent home and estate belonged to the +woman who was his neighbour at Battersea, and whom he himself had been +more than half inclined to put down as an adventuress. + +A major-domo in quiet black clothes, who seemed to reflect in his tone +and manner the subdued splendour of the place, received him at the door, +passing him on at once to a footman in powdered hair and resplendent +livery. Across a great hall, whose white stone floor, height, and +stained-glass windows gave Wrayson the impression that he had found his +way by mistake into the nave of a cathedral, he was ushered into a +drawing-room, whose modernity and comparatively low ceiling were almost a +relief. Here there were books and flowers and music, some exquisite +water-colours upon the white walls, newspapers and magazines lying about, +which gave the place a habitable air. A great semicircular window +commanded a wonderful view of the park, but Wrayson had little time to +admire it. A door was opened at the further end of the room, and he heard +the soft rustling of a woman's gown upon the carpet. It was Louise who +came towards him. + +She was dressed in white muslin, unrelieved by ornament or any suggestion +of colour. Her cheeks were unusually pale, and the shadows under her eyes +seemed to speak of trouble. Yet Wrayson thought that he had never seen +her look more beautiful. She gave him her hand with a faint smile of +welcome, and permitted him to raise it to his lips. + +"This is very, very foolish," she said softly, "and I know that I ought +to be ashamed of myself." + +"On the contrary," he answered, "I think that it is very natural. But, +seriously, I feel a little overpowered. You won't want to live always in +a castle, will you, Louise?" + +She sighed, and smiled, and sighed again. + +"I am afraid that our castle, Herbert," she murmured, "will exist only in +the air! But listen. I must speak to you before the others come in." + +"I am all attention," he assured her. + +"It is about Madame de Melbain," she began, a little hesitatingly. + +He waited for her to continue. She seemed to be in some difficulty. + +"I want you to watch and do just what we others do," she said, "and not +to be surprised if some of our arrangements seem a little curious. For +instance, although she is the elder, do not give her your arm for +dinner. She will go in first alone, and you must take me." + +"I can assure you," Wrayson said, smiling, "that I shall make no +difficulty about that." + +"And she doesn't like to be talked to very much," Louise continued. + +"I will humour her in that also," Wrayson promised. "She is a good sort +to let me come here at all." + +"She is very kind and very considerate," Louise said, "and her life has +been a very unhappy one." + +Wrayson moved his chair a little nearer. + +"Need we talk about her any more?" he asked. "There is so much I want to +say to you about ourselves." + +She looked at him for a moment, a little sadly, a little wistfully. + +"Ah! don't," she murmured. "Don't talk about definite things at all. For +to-night--to-night only, let us drift!" + +He smiled at her reassuringly. + +"Don't be afraid," he said. "I am not going to ask you any questions. I +am not going to ask for any explanations. I think that we have passed all +that. It is of the future I wanted to speak." + +"Don't," she begged softly. "Of the past I dare not think, nor of the +future. It is only the present which belongs to us." + +"The present and the future," he answered firmly. + +She rose suddenly to her feet, and Wrayson instinctively followed her +example. They were no longer alone. Two women, who had entered by a door +at the further end of the apartment, were slowly approaching them. The +foremost was tall and dark, a little slim, perhaps, but with an elegant +figure, and a carriage of singular dignity. Her face was youthful, and +her brown eyes were soft and clear as the eyes of a girl, but her dark +hair was plentifully streaked with grey, and there was about her whole +appearance an air of repressed sadness. + +"This is Mr. Wrayson, is it not?" she asked, in a very sweet voice, but +with a strong foreign accent. "We have so few visitors that one can +scarcely make a mistake. You are very welcome." + +She did not offer to shake hands, and Wrayson contented himself with +a low bow. + +"You are very kind," he murmured. + +"Monsieur le Baron," she remarked, turning to an elderly gentleman who +had just entered, "will doubtless find your coming pleasant. The +entertainment of three ladies must have seemed at times a little trying. +Let me make you gentlemen known to one another, Monsieur Wrayson, +Monsieur le Baron de Courcelles. And Ida," she added, turning to her +companion, who had moved a few steps apart, "permit that I present to +you, also, Mr. Wrayson--Mademoiselle de Courcelles." + +The conversation for a moment or two followed the obvious lines. Madame +de Melbain and Louise had drawn a little apart; a few remarks as to the +beauty of the chateâu and its situation passed between Wrayson and the +Baron. The name of its owner was mentioned, and Wrayson indicated his +acquaintance with her. At the sound of her name, Madame de Melbain +turned somewhat abruptly round, and seemed to be listening; but at that +moment the door was thrown open, and the major-domo of the household, +who had received Wrayson, announced dinner. He directly addressed Madame +de Melbain. + +"Madame is served," he murmured respectfully. + +The little procession arranged itself as Louise had intimated. Madame de +Melbain led the way, ushered by the major-domo and followed immediately +by the Baron and Mademoiselle de Courcelles. Wrayson, with Louise, +brought up the rear. They crossed the white flagged hall and entered an +apartment which Wrayson, although his capacity for wonder was +diminishing, felt himself compelled to pause and admire. It was of great +height, and again the curiously shaped windows were filled with stained +glass. The oak-panelled walls, black with age, were hung with portraits, +sombre and yet vivid, and upon a marble pedestal at the end of the room, +lifelike, and untouched by the centuries, stood a wonderful presentation +of Ralph de St. Étarpe, the founder of the house, clad in the armour of +his days. The dinner table, with its brilliant and modern appurtenances +of flowers and plate, standing in the middle of the floor, seemed like a +minute and yet startling anachronism. The brilliant patches of scarlet +geranium, the deep blue livery of the two footmen, the glitter of the +Venetian glass upon the table, were like notes of alien colour amongst +surroundings whose chief characteristic was a magnificent restraint, and +yet such dignity as it was possible to impart into the everyday business +of eating and drinking was certainly manifest in the meal, which +presently took its leisurely course. + +Wrayson, although no one could accuse him of a lack of _savoir faire_, +found himself scarcely at his ease. Madame de Melbain; erect; dignified, +and beautiful, sat at the head of the table, and although she addressed +a remark to each of them occasionally, she remained always +unapproachable. The Baron made only formal attempts at conversation, and +Mademoiselle de Courcelles was absolutely silent. Wrayson was unable to +divest himself of the feeling of representing an alien presence amongst a +little community drawn closely together by some mysterious tie. Louise +was his only link with them, and to Louise he decided to devote himself +entirely, regardless of the apparent demands of custom. His position at +the table enabled him to do this, and very soon he discovered that it was +precisely what was expected of him. The conversation between the others, +such as it was, lapsed into German, or some kindred tongue. Wrayson found +himself able presently to talk confidentially with Louise. + +"Remember," he said, after a slight pause, "that I have finished +altogether with the role of investigator. I no longer have any curiosity +about anything. Still, I think that there is something which I ought to +tell you." + +She smiled. + +"You may tell me as much as you like," she said, "as long as you don't +ask questions." + +"Exactly! Well, there is another Englishman staying at the _Lion d'Or._ +He appears to be a decent fellow, and a gentleman. I am not going to talk +about him. I imagine that he is harmless." + +"We have heard of him," Louise murmured. "It certainly appears as though +he were only an ordinary tourist. Has any one else arrived?" + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered, "some one else has arrived, and I want to tell +you about him." + +Louise was obviously disturbed. She refused a course a little +impatiently, and turned towards Wrayson anxiously. + +"But the landlord," she said in a low tone, "has orders to receive no +more guests." + +"This man arrived to luncheon to-day," Wrayson answered. "The landlord +could not refuse him that. He wished for a room and was told that he +could not be taken in." + +"Well, who is he, what is he like?" she demanded. + +"He is a miserable sort of bounder--an imitation cockney tourist, with +ready-made English clothes, a knapsack, and a camera. I should have felt +suspicious about him myself, but the other fellow whom I told you about, +who is staying at the inn, recognized him. He had seen him abroad, and +what he told me seems decisive. I am afraid that he is a spy." + +Wrayson cursed himself for a moment that he had been so outspoken, for +the girl by his side seemed almost on the point of collapse. Her eyes +were full of fear, and she clutched at the tablecloth as though overcome +with a spasm of terror. + +"Don't be alarmed," Wrayson whispered in her ear. "I am sure, I am quite +sure that he is not here for what you may fear. I don't believe he is an +Englishman at all." + +The girl recovered herself amazingly. + +"I was not thinking of myself," she said quietly; and Wrayson noticed +that her eyes were fixed upon the pale, distinguished face of the woman +who sat with a certain air of isolation at the head of the table. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE SPY + + +Wrayson found himself a few minutes later alone with the Baron, who, with +some solemnity, rose and took the chair opposite to him. Conversation +between them, however, languished, for the Baron spoke only in +monosyllables, and his attitude gave Wrayson the idea that he viewed his +presence at the chateâu with disfavour. With stiff punctiliousness, he +begged Wrayson to try some wonderful Burgundy, and passed a box of +cigarettes. He did not, however, open any topic of conversation, and +Wrayson, embarrassed in his choice of subjects by the fact that any +remark he could make might sound like an attempt at gratifying his +curiosity, remained also silent. In a very few minutes the Baron rose. + +"You will take another glass of wine, sir?" he asked. + +Wrayson rose too with alacrity, and bowed his refusal. They recrossed the +great hall and entered the drawing-room. Louise and Madame de Melbain +were talking earnestly together in a corner, and from the look that the +latter threw at him as they entered, Wrayson was convinced that in some +way he was concerned with the subject of their conversation. It was a +look deliberate and scrutinizing, in a sense doubtful, and yet not +unkindly. Behind it all, Wrayson felt that there was something which he +could not understand, there was something of the mystery in those dark +sad eyes which seemed to pervade the whole atmosphere of the place and +the lives of these people. + +Louise rose as he approached and motioned him to take her vacated place. + +"Madame de Melbain would like to talk to you for a few moments," she said +quietly. "Afterwards will you come on to the terrace?" + +She swept away through the open window, and was at once followed by the +Baron. Mademoiselle de Courcelles was playing very softly on a grand +piano in an unseen corner of the apartment. Wrayson and his hostess +were alone. + +She turned towards him with a faint smile. She spoke with great +deliberation, but very clearly, and there was in her voice some hidden +quality, indefinable in words, yet both musical and singularly +attractive. + +"I shall not keep you very long, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Louise has been +talking to me about you. She is happy, I think, to have found a friend so +chivalrous and so discerning." + +Wrayson smiled doubtfully as he answered. + +"It is very little that I have been able to do for her," he said. "My +complaint is that she will not give me the opportunity of doing more." + +"You are too modest," Madame de Melbain said slowly. "Louise has told me +a good deal. I think that you have been a very faithful friend." + +Wrayson bowed but said nothing. If Madame de Melbain had anything to +say to him, he preferred to afford her the opportunity of an +attentive silence. + +"Louise and I," Madame de Melbain continued, "were school friends. So +you see that I have known her all my life. She has had her troubles, as +I have! Only mine are a righteous judgment upon me, and hers she has +done nothing to deserve. It is the burden of others which she fastens +upon her back." + +Wrayson felt instinctively that his continued silence was what she most +desired. She was speaking to him, but her eyes had travelled far away. It +was as though she had come into touch with other and greater things. + +"Louise has not told me everything," she continued. "There is much that +she will not confess. So it is necessary, Mr. Wrayson, that I ask you a +question. Do you care for her?" + +"I do!" Wrayson answered simply. + +"You wish to marry her?" + +"To-morrow, if she would!" + +Madame de Melbain leaned a little forward. Her cheeks were still entirely +colourless, but some spark of emotion glittered in her full dark eyes. + +"You will be alone with her presently. Try and persuade her to marry you +at once. There is nothing but an absurd scruple between you! Remember +that always." + +"It is a scruple which up till now has been too strong for me," Wrayson +remarked quietly. + +She measured him with her eyes, as though making a deliberate estimate of +his powers. + +"A man," she said, "should be able to do much with the woman whom he +cares for--the woman who cares for him." + +"If I could believe that," he murmured. + +She shrugged her shoulders slightly. He understood the gesture. + +"You are right," he declared, with more confidence. "I will do my best." + +She moved her head slowly, a sign of assent, also of dismissal. He rose +to his feet. + +"Louise is on the terrace," she said. "Will you give me your arm? The +Baron is there also. We will join them." + +They stepped through the high French windows on to the carpeted terrace. +It seemed to Wrayson that they had passed into a veritable land of +enchantment. The service of dinner had been a somewhat leisurely affair, +and the hour was already late. The moon was slowly rising behind the +trees, but the landscape was at present wrapped in the soft doubtful +obscurity of a late twilight. The flowers, with whose perfume the air was +faintly fragrant, remained unseen, or visible only in blurred outline; +the tall trees, whose tops were unstirred by even the slightest breeze, +stood out like silent sentinels against the violet sky. Madame de Melbain +stopped short upon the threshold of the terrace, with head slightly +thrown back, and half-closed eyes. + +"Suzanne was right," she murmured, "there is peace here--peace, if only +it would last!" + +The Baron came hastily forward. He seemed to be eyeing Wrayson a little +doubtfully. Madame de Melbain pointed down the avenue. + +"I think," she said, "that it would be pleasant to walk for a little +way. Give me your arm, Baron. We will go first. Mr. Wrayson will follow +with Louise." + +They descended the steps, crossed the lawn, and through a gate into the +broad grass-grown avenue, cut through the woods to the road. Wrayson at +first was silent, and Louise seemed a little nervous. More than once she +started at the sound of a rabbit scurrying through the undergrowth. +There was something a little mysterious about the otherwise profound +silence of the impenetrable woods. Even their footsteps fell noiselessly +upon the spongy turf. + +Wrayson spoke at last. They had fallen sufficiently far behind the others +to be out of earshot. + +"Do you know what Madame de Melbain has been saying to me?" he asked. + +Louise turned her head a little. There was the faintest flicker of a +smile about her lips. + +"I cannot imagine," she declared, looking once more straight ahead. + +"She has been inciting me to bold deeds," Wrayson said. "How should you +like to be carried off in mediaeval fashion--married, willing or +unwilling?" + +"Is that what Madame de Melbain has been recommending you to do?" +she asked. + +He nodded. + +"Yes! And I am thinking of taking her advice," he said coolly. + +She laughed quietly, yet his ears were quick, and he caught the note of +sadness which a moment later crept into her eyes. + +"It would solve so much that is troublesome, wouldn't it?" she remarked. +"May I ask if that has been the sole topic of your conversation?" + +"Absolutely! Louise! Dear!" + +She turned a little towards him. His voice was compelling. The fingers of +her hand closed readily enough upon his, and the soft touch thrilled him. + +"You have some fancy in your brain," he said, in a low, passionate +whisper. "It is nothing but a fancy, I am assured. You have heard what +your own friend has advised. You don't doubt that I love you, Louise, +that I want to make you happy." + +She leaned a little towards him. A sudden wave of abandonment seemed to +have swept over her. He drew her face to his and kissed her with a sudden +passion. Her lips met his soft and unresisting. Already he felt the song +of triumph in his heart. She was his! She could never be anybody else's +now. Very softly she disengaged herself. The other two were still in +sight, and already the curve of the moon was creeping over the trees. + +"Don't spoil it," she murmured. "Don't talk of to-morrow, or the future! +We have to-night."... + +There followed minutes of which he took no count, and then of a sudden +her hand clutched his arm. + +"Listen," she whispered hoarsely. + +He came suddenly down to earth. They were walking in the shadow of the +trees, close to the side of the wood, and their footsteps upon the soft +turf were noiseless. Wrayson almost held his breath as he leaned towards +the dark chaos of the thickly planted trees. Only a few yards away he +could distinctly hear the dry snapping of twigs. Some one was keeping +pace with them inside the wood, now he could see the stooping figure of +a man creeping stealthily along. A little exclamation broke from +Louise's lips. + +"It is a spy after all," she muttered. "They said that every entrance to +the place was guarded." + +Wrayson had time to take only one quick step towards the wood, when a +shrill cry rang out upon the still night. Then there was the trampling +under foot of bushes and undergrowth, the sound of men's voices, one +English and threatening, the other guttural and terrified. Madame de +Melbain and her escort had paused and were looking back. Louise was +moving towards them, and Wrayson was on the point of entering the wood. +Into the little semicircle formed by these four people there suddenly +strode Wrayson's friend from the inn, grasping by the collar a shrinking +and protesting figure in a much dishevelled tweed suit. + +"We were right, Mr. Wrayson," the former remarked quietly. "This fellow +has been spying round all day. You had better ask your friends what they +wish done with him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE SCENE IN THE AVENUE + + +There followed a few minutes of somewhat curious silence. At the first +sound of the voice of the man who had made so startling an appearance in +their midst, a cry, only half suppressed, had broken from Madame de +Melbain's lips. She had moved impulsively a little forward; the moon, +visible now from over the tree tops, was shining faintly upon her +absolutely colourless face and dilated eyes. For some reason she seemed +terror-stricken, both she and Louise, who was clinging now to her arm. +Neither of them seemed even to have glanced at the cowering figure of the +man, who had relapsed now into a venomous silence. Both of them were +gazing at his captor, and upon their faces was the strangest expression +which Wrayson had ever seen on any human features. It was as though they +stood upon the edge of the world and peered downwards, into the forbidden +depths; as though they suddenly found themselves in the presence of a +thing so wonderful that thought and speech alike were chained. Wrayson +involuntarily followed the direction of their rapt gaze. The stranger +certainly presented a somewhat formidable appearance. He was standing +upon slightly higher ground, and the massive proportions of his tall, +powerful figure stood out with almost startling distinctness against the +empty background. His face was half in the shadow, yet it seemed to +Wrayson that some touch of the mystery which was quivering in the drawn +face of the two women was also reflected in his dimly seen features. +Something indefinable was in the air, something so mysterious and +wonderful, that voices seemed stricken dumb, and life itself suspended. +An owl flew slowly out from the wood with ponderous flapping of wings, +and sailed over their heads. Every one started: Madame de Melbain gave a +half-stifled shriek. The strain was over. Louise and she were half +sobbing now in one another's arms. + +"I will leave this fellow to be dealt with as the owners of the chateâu +may direct," the stranger said stiffly, turning to Wrayson. "You can tell +them all that we know about him." + +He turned on his heel, but the Baron laid his hand upon his shoulder and +peered into his face inquisitively. + +"_We_ should like to know," he said, "whom we have to thank for the +capture of this intruder!" + +"I am a stranger here, and to all of you," was the quiet answer. "You owe +me no thanks. I have seen something of this fellow before," he added, +pointing to his captive, who was now standing sullenly in the centre of +the group. "I felt sure that he was up to no good, and I watched him." + +For the first time the fair-haired little tourist, who had been dragged +so submissively into their midst, suffered a gleam of intelligence to +appear in his face. He changed his position so that he could see his +captor better. + +"Ah!" he muttered, "you have seen me before, eh? And I you, perhaps! Let +me think! Was it--" + +Wrayson's friend leaned a little forwards, and with the careless ease of +one flicking away a fly, he struck the speaker with the back of his hand +across the face. The blow was not a particularly severe one, but its +victim collapsed upon the turf. + +"Look here," his assailant said, standing for a moment over him, "you can +go on and finish your sentence if you like. I only want to warn you, that +if you do, I will break every bone in your body, one by one, the next +time we meet. Go on, if you think it worth while." + +The man on the ground was dumb, because he was afraid. But the same +thought presented itself to all of them. The Baron, who was least of all +affected, expressed it. + +"Perhaps, sir," he said, "you will not object to telling me--the Baron de +Courcelles--whom we have to thank for the discovery of this--intruder!" + +Wrayson's friend edged a little away. There was no response in his manner +to the courtesy with which the Baron had sought to introduce himself. + +"You have nothing to thank me for," he said shortly. "My name would be +quite unknown to you, and I am leaving this part of the world at once. +Permit me to wish you good evening!" + +He had already turned on his heel when Madame de Melbain's voice +arrested him. Clear and peremptory, the first words which had passed her +lips since the surprise had come to them, seemed somehow to introduce a +new note into an atmosphere from which an element of tragedy had never +been lacking. + +"Please stop!" + +He turned and faced her with obvious unwillingness. She stretched out her +hand as though forbidding him to go, but addressed at the same time the +two men, apparently gamekeepers, who had suddenly emerged from the wood. + +"Monsieur Robert," she said, "we have caught this man trespassing in the +woods here, notwithstanding the precautions which I understood you had +taken. Take him away at once, if you please. I trust that you will be +able to hand him over to the gendarmes." + +Monsieur Robert, the steward of the estates, an elderly man, whose face +was twitching with anxiety, stepped forward with a low bow. + +"Madame," he said, "we had word of this intrusion. We were even now upon +the track of this ruffian. There was another, also, who climbed the +wall--ah! I see him! The Englishman there!" + +"He is our friend," Madame de Melbain said. "You must not interfere +with him." + +"As Madame wills! Come, you rascal," he added, gripping his prisoner by +the shoulder. "We will show you what it means to climb over walls and +trespass on the estate of Madame la Baronne. Come then!" + +The intruder accepted the situation with the most philosophic calm. Only +one remark he ventured to make as he was led off. + +"It is not hospitable, this! I only wished to see the chateâu by +moonlight!" + +Wrayson's fellow guest at the _Lion d'Or_ turned to follow them. + +"The fellow might try to escape," he muttered; but again Madame de +Melbain called to him. + +"You must not go away," she said, "yet!" + +Then she moved forward with smooth, deliberate footsteps, yet with +something almost supernatural in her white face and set, dilated eyes. It +was as though she were looking once more through the windows of the +world, as though she could see the figures of dead men playing once more +their part in the game of life. And she looked always at the Englishman. + +"Listen," she said, "there is something about you, sir, which I do not +understand. Who are you, and where do you come from?" + +He made no answer. Only he held out his hand as though to keep her away, +and drew a little further back. + +"You shall not escape," she continued, the words leaving her lips with a +sort of staccato incisiveness, crisp and emotional. "No! you are here, +and you shall answer. Who are you who come here to mock us all; because +it is a dead man who speaks with your voice, and looks with your eyes? +You will not dare to say that you are Duncan Fitzmaurice!" + +The figure in the shadows seemed to loom larger and larger. He was no +longer shrinking away. + +"I know nothing of the man of whom you speak!" he declared. "I am a +wanderer. I have no name and no home." + +Madame de Melbain reeled and would have fallen. Then for a moment events +seemed to leap forward. White and fainting, she lay in the arms of the +man who had sprung to her succour, yet through her half-opened eyes there +flashed a strange and wonderful light--a light of passionate and amazing +content. He held her, almost roughly, for several moments, yet his lips +were pressed to hers with a tenderness almost indescribable. No one of +the little group moved. Wrayson felt simply that events, impossible for +him to understand, had marched too quickly for him. He stood like a man +in a dream, whose limbs are rigid, whose brain alone is working. And the +others, too, seemed to have become part of a silent and wonderful +tableau. For years after Wrayson carried with him the memory of those few +minutes,--the perfume from the woods, faint but penetrating; the shadowy +light, the passionate faces of the man and the woman, the woman yielding +to a beautiful dream, and the man to a moment of divine madness. +Movement, when it came, came from the principal actors in that wonderful +scene. Madame de Melbain was alone, supported in Louise's arms, the +Englishman's heavy footsteps were already audible, crashing through the +undergrowth. Louise pointed to the wood and called out to Wrayson: + +"Follow him! Don't let him out of your sight! Quick!" + +Wrayson turned and sped down the avenue. When he reached the wall, he +stood there and waited. Presently Duncan came crashing through the +wood and vaulted the wall. Wrayson met him in the middle of the hard +white road. + +"We will walk back to the _Lion d'Or_ together," he said calmly, "I have +a few things to say to you!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +A SUBSTANTIAL GHOST + + +Monsieur Jules, of the _Lion d'Or,_ was in a state of excitement +bordering upon frenzy. Events were happening indeed with him, this placid +August weather. First the occupancy of the château by the mysterious +lady, and the subsequent edict of the steward against all strangers; then +the coming of this tourist yesterday, who had gone for an evening stroll +without paying his bill, and was now a prisoner of the law, Heaven only +knew on what charge! Added to this--a matter of excitement enough +surely--the giant Englishman, who had been his guest for nearly three +weeks--a model guest too,--had departed at a minute's notice, though not, +the saints be praised, without paying his bill. And now, though the hour +was yet scarcely nine o'clock, a carriage with steaming horses was +standing at his door, and the beautiful young English lady was herself +inside his inn. He was indeed conducting her down the grey stone passage +out on to the rose-bordered garden, which was the pride of his heart, and +where monsieur, the remaining Englishman, was smoking his morning +cigarette. + +She barely waited until Monsieur Jules had bowed himself out of hearing +distance. She looked at Wrayson, at the table laid for one only, and at +the empty garden. + +"Where is he--your friend?" she demanded breathlessly. + +"Gone," Wrayson answered. "I am sorry, but I did my best. He went away +at daylight. I saw him off, but I could not keep him." + +"Where to?" she asked. "You know that, at least." + +He pointed towards the distant coast line. + +"In that direction! That is all I know." + +"He told you nothing before he went?" she asked eagerly. + +"Nothing at all," he answered. "He refused to discuss what had happened. +Sit down, Louise," he added firmly. "I want to talk to you." + +He placed a chair for her under the trees. She sank into it a +little wearily. + +"A certain measure of ignorance," he said, "I am willing to put up with, +but when you exhibit such extraordinary interest in another man, I +really feel that my limit has been reached. Who is he, Louise? You must +tell me, please!" + +"I wish I could tell you," she answered. "I wish I could say that I knew. +Half the night the three of us have talked and wondered. I have heard +plenty of theories as to a second life on some imaginary planet, but I +never heard of the dead who lived again here, in this world!" + +He looked puzzled. + +"Do you mean," he asked, "that he was like some one whom you believed +to be dead?" + +She was silent for a moment. The sun was hot even where they sat, but he +fancied that he saw her shiver. She looked into his face, and something +of the terror of the night before was in her eyes. + +"To us," she said slowly, "to Madame de Melbain and to me, he was a +ghost, an actual apparition. He spoke to us with the voice of one whom +we know to be dead. He came to us, in his form." + +Wrayson looked across at her with a quiet smile. + +"There was nothing of the ghost about Duncan!" he remarked. "I should +consider him a remarkably substantial person. Don't you think that we +were all a little overwrought last night? A strong likeness and a little +imagination will often work wonders." + +"If it was a likeness only," she said, "why did he leave us so abruptly, +why has he left this place at a moment's notice to avoid us?" + +Wrayson was silent for a few seconds. + +"Look here," he said, "this is a matter of common sense after all. If you +were _not_ deceived by a likeness, it was the man himself! That goes +without saying. What reasons had you for supposing that he was dead?" + +"The newspapers, the War Office, even the return of his effects." + +"From where?" Wrayson asked. + +"From South Africa. He was shot through the lungs in Natal!" + +"Men have turned up before, after having been reported dead," he remarked +sententiously. + +"But he was in the army," she replied. "Don't you see that if he was +alive now, he would be a deserter. He has never rejoined. He was +certified as having died in the hospital at Ladysmith!" + +Wrayson looked steadily into her agitated face. + +"Supposing," he said, "that he turned out to be the man whom you have in +your mind, what is he to you?" + +"My brother," she answered simply. + +Wrayson's first impulse was of surprise. Then he drew a long breath of +relief. He looked back upon his long hours of anxiety, and cursed himself +for a fool. + +"What an idiot I have been!" he declared. "Of course, I know that you +lost a brother in South Africa. But--but what about Madame de Melbain?" + +"Madame de Melbain and my brother were friends," she said quietly. "There +were obstacles or they would have been more than friends." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Now supposing," he said, "that, by some miracle, your brother +still lived, that this was he, is there any reason why he should +avoid you both?" + +She thought for a moment. + +"Yes!" she said slowly, "there is." + +"I suppose," he continued tentatively, "you couldn't tell me all +about it?" + +"I couldn't," she answered. "It isn't my secret." + +Wrayson looked for a moment away from her, across the valley with its +flower-spangled meadows, parted by that sinuous poplar-fringed line of +silver, the lazy, slow-flowing river stealing through the quiet land to +the sea. The full summer heat was scarcely yet in the air, but already a +faint blue haze was rising from the lowlands. Up on the plateau, where +they were sitting, a slight breeze stirred amongst the trees; Monsieur +Jules had indeed some ground for his pride in this tiny sylvan paradise. + +"I think," he said, "that for one day we will forget all this tangle of +secrets and unaccountable doings. What do you say, Louise?" he whispered, +taking her unresisting hand into his. "May I tell Monsieur Jules to serve +breakfast for two in the arbour there?" + +She laughed softly into his face. There was the look in her eyes which +he loved to see, half wistful, half content, almost happy. + +"But you are never satisfied," she declared. "If I give you a day, a +whole precious day out of my valuable life--" + +"They belong to me, all of them," he declared, bending over her till his +lips touched her cheek. "Some day I am very sure that I shall take them +all into my charge." + +She disengaged herself from his embrace with a sudden start. Wrayson +turned his head. Within a yard or two of them, Madame de Melbain had +paused in the centre of the little plot of grass. She was looking at them +from underneath her lace parasol, with faintly uplifted eyebrows, and the +dawn of a smile upon her beautiful lips. Louise sprang to her feet, and +Wrayson followed her example. Madame de Melbain lowered her parasol as +though to shut out the sight of the two. + +"May I come on?" she asked. "I want to speak to Louise, although I am +afraid I am shockingly _de trop._" + +Wrayson had an idea, and acted upon it promptly. + +"Madame de Melbain," he said, "I believe that you have some influence +with Louise, I am sure that you are one of those who sympathize with the +unfortunate. Can't I bespeak your good offices?" + +She lowered her parasol to the ground, and leaned a little forward upon +it. Her eyes were fixed steadily upon Wrayson. + +"Go on," she said briefly. + +"I love Louise," Wrayson said, "and I believe she cares for me. +Nevertheless, she refuses to marry me, and will give no intelligible +reason. My first meeting with her was of an extraordinary nature. I +assisted her to leave a house in which a murder had been committed, +since which time I think we have both run a risk of trouble with the +authorities. Louise lives always in the shadow of some mystery, and when +I, who surely have the right to know her secrets, beg for her confidence, +she refuses it." + +"And what is it that you wish me to do?" Madame de Melbain asked softly. + +"To use your influence with Louise," Wrayson pleaded. "Let her give me +her confidence, and let her accept from me the shelter of my name." + +Madame de Melbain was silent for several moments. She seemed to be +thinking. Louise's face was expressionless. She had made one attempt to +check Wrayson, but recognizing its futility she had at once abandoned it. +From below in the valley came the faint whir of the reaping machines, +from the rose garden a murmur of bees. But between the two women and the +man there was silence--silence which lasted so long that Monsieur Jules, +who was watching from a window, called softly upon all the saints of his +acquaintance to explain to him of what nature was this mystery, which +seemed to be developing, as it were, under his own surveillance. + +At last Madame de Melbain appeared to come to a decision. She moved +slowly forward, until she stood within a few feet of him. Then she raised +her eyes to his and looked him long and earnestly in the face. + +"You look," she said, half under her breath, "like a man who might be +trusted. I will trust you. I will be kinder to you than Louise, for I +will tell you all that you want to know. But when I have told you, you +will have in your keeping the honour of an unfortunate woman whose name +alone is great." + +Wrayson looked her for a moment in the eyes. Then he bowed low. + +"Madame," he said, "that trust will be to me my most sacred possession." + +She smiled at him faintly, nodding her head as though to keep pace with +her thoughts. + +"I believe you, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Yes, I believe you! Let me tell +you this, then. I count it amongst my misfortunes that my own troubles +have become in so large a manner the troubles of my friends. You will +appreciate that the more, perhaps, when I tell you that Madame de Melbain +is not the name by which I am generally known. I am that unfortunate +woman the Queen of Mexonia!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE QUEEN OF MEXONIA + + +Wrayson, who had been prepared for something surprising, was yet startled +out of his composure. The affairs of the unhappy Royal House of Mexonia +were the property of the world. He half rose to his feet, but Madame de +Melbain instantly waved him back again. + +"My friends," she said, "deem it advisable that my whereabouts should not +be known. I certainly am very anxious that my incognita should be +preserved." + +She paused, and Wrayson, without hesitation, answered her unspoken +question. Unconsciously, too, he found himself using the same manner of +address as the others. + +"Madame," he said, "whatever you choose to tell me will be sacred." + +She bowed her head slightly. + +"I am going to tell you a good deal," she said, glancing across at +Louise. + +Louise opened her lips as though about to intervene. Madame de Melbain +continued, however, without a break. + +"I am going to tell you more than may seem necessary," she said, "because +I believe that I am one of those unfortunate persons whose evil lot it is +to bring unhappiness upon their friends. So far as I can avoid this, Mr. +Wrayson, I mean to. Further--it is possible that I may ask +you--presently--to render me a service." + +Wrayson bowed low. He felt that she was already well aware of his +willingness. + +"First, then, let me tell you," she continued, leaning back in her chair, +and looking away across the valley with eyes whose light was wholly +reminiscent, "that we three were schoolgirls together, Louise, Amy--whom +you know better, perhaps, as the Baroness de Sturm--and myself. We were +at a convent near Brussels. There were not many pupils, and we three were +friends.... + +"We had a great deal of liberty--more liberty, perhaps, than our friends +would have approved of. We worked, it is true, in the mornings, but in +the afternoons we rode or played tennis in the Bois. It was there that I +met Prince Frederick, who afterwards became my husband. + +"I was only sixteen years old, and just as silly, I suppose, as a girl +brought up as I had been brought up was certain to be. I was very much +flattered by Prince Frederick's attentions, and quite ready to respond +to them. My own family was noble, and the match was not considered a +particularly unequal one, for though Frederick was of the Royal House, +he was a long way from the succession. Still, there was a good deal of +trouble when a messenger from Frederick went to my father. He declared +that I was altogether too young; my mother, on the other hand, was +just as anxious to conclude the match. Eventually it was arranged that +the betrothal should take place in six months--and Frederick went back +to Mexonia." + +Madame de Melbain paused for a moment. Wrayson felt, from her slightly +altered attitude and a significant lowering of her voice, that she was +reaching the part of her narrative which she found the most difficult. + +"We girls," she continued, "went back to school, and just at that time +Louise's brother came over to Brussels. I think that I have already told +you that the supervision over us was far from strict. There was nothing +to prevent Captain Fitzmaurice being a good deal with us. We had +picnics, tennis parties, rides! Long before the six months were up I +understood how foolish I had been. I wrote to Prince Frederick and +begged him to release me from our uncompleted engagement. His answer was +to appear in person. He made a scene. My mother and father were now +wholly on his side. Within a few weeks he had lost both a cousin and a +brother. His succession to the throne was almost a certainty. His own +people were just as anxious to have him married. I did not know why +then, but I found out later on. They had their way. I believe that +things are different in an English home. In mine, I can assure you that +I never had any chance. I entered upon my married life without the least +possibility of happiness. Needless to say, I never realized any! For the +last four years my husband has been trying for a divorce! Very soon it +is possible that he will succeed." + +Wrayson leaned a little towards her. + +"Is it permitted, Madame, to ask a question?" + +"Why not?" + +"You have fought against this divorce, you and your friends, so +zealously. Yet your life has been unhappy. Release could scarcely have +been anything but a relief to you!" + +Madame de Melbain raised her head slightly. Her brows were a little +contracted. From her eyes there flashed the silent fire of a +queen's disdain. + +"Release! Yes, I would welcome that! If it were death it would be very +welcome! But divorce--he to divorce me, he, whose brutality and +infidelities are the scandal of every Court in Europe! No! A divorce I +never shall accept. Separation I have insisted upon." + +Wrayson hesitated for a moment. + +"May I be pardoned," he said, "if I repeat to you what I saw in print +lately--in a famous English paper? They spoke of this divorce case which +has lasted so long; they spoke of it as about to be finally decided. +There was some fresh evidence about to be produced, a special court was +to be held." + +Madame de Melbain turned, if possible, a shade paler. + +"Yes!" she said slowly, "I have heard of that. We have all heard of that. +I want to tell you, Mr. Wrayson, what that fresh evidence consists of." + +Wrayson bowed and waited. Somehow he felt that he was on the eve of a +great discovery. + +"Both before my marriage and afterwards," Madame de Melbain said quietly, +"I wrote to--Captain Fitzmaurice. I was always impulsive--when I was +younger, and my letters, especially one written on the eve of my +marriage, would no doubt decide the case against me. Captain Fitzmaurice +was killed--in Natal, but in a mysterious way news has reached me of the +letters since his death." + +"In what way?" Wrayson asked. + +For the first time, Madame de Melbain glanced a little nervously about +her. Against listeners, however, they seemed absolutely secure. There was +no hiding-place, nor any one within sight. Upon the land was everywhere +the silence of a great heat. Even in the shade where they sat the still +air was hot and breathless. Down in the valley the cows stood knee deep +in the stream, and a blue haze hung over the vineyards. + +"Nearly eighteen months ago," Madame de Melbain continued, "I received a +letter signed by the name of Morris Barnes. The writer said that he had +just arrived from South Africa, and had picked up on one of the +battlefields there a bundle of letters, which he had come to the +conclusion must have been written by me. He did not mince matters in the +least. He was a blackmailer pure and simple. He had given me the first +chance of buying these letters! What was my offer?" + +A sharp ejaculation broke from Wrayson's lips. Louise signed to him to +be silent. + +"Amy was with me when the letters came," Madame de Melbain continued. +"She left at once for England to see this man. The sum he demanded was +impossible. All that she could do was to ask for time, and to arrange to +pay him so much a month whilst we were considering how to raise the +money. He accepted this, and promised to keep silence. He kept his word, +but for a time only. He made inquiries, and he seems to have come to the +conclusion that the money was on the other side. At any rate, he +approached the advisers of my husband. He was in treaty with them for the +letters--when he--when he met with his death!" + +Wrayson had a feeling that the heat was becoming intolerable. He dared +not look at Louise. His eyes were fixed upon the still expressionless +face of the woman whose story was slowly unfolding its tragic course. + +"A rumour of this," Madame de Melbain continued, "reached us in Mexonia! +I telegraphed to Amy! She and Louise were at their wits' ends. Louise +decided to go and see this man Barnes, to make her way, if she could, +into his flat, to search for and, if she could find them, to steal these +letters. She carried out her purpose or rather her attempted purpose. The +rest you know, for it was you who saved her!" + +"The man," Wrayson said hoarsely, "was murdered." + +Madame de Melbain inclined her head. + +"So I have understood," she remarked. + +"He was murdered," Wrayson continued in a harsh, unnatural voice, "on +that very night, the night when he was to have made over these letters to +your--enemies! The message was telephoned to me! He was to go to the +Hotel Francis. He was warned that there was danger. And there was! He was +murdered--while the cab waited--to take him there!" + +Her eyes held his--she did not flinch. + +"The man who telephoned to me--Bentham his name was, the agent of your +enemies,--he, too, was murdered!" + +"So I have heard," she said calmly. + +"The letters!" he faltered. "Where are they?" + +"No one knows," she answered. "That is why I live always on the brink of +a volcano. Many people are searching for them. No one as yet has +succeeded. But that may come at any moment." + +"Madame," he said, "can you tell me who killed these men?" + +She raised her eyebrows. + +"I cannot," she answered coldly. + +"Madame," he declared, "the man Barnes was a pitiful blackmailing little +Jew! For all I know, he deserved death a dozen times over--ay, and +Bentham too! But the law does not look upon it like that. Whoever killed +these men will assuredly be hanged if they are caught. Don't you think +that your friends are a little too zealous?" + +She met his gaze unflinchingly. + +"If friends of mine have done these things," she said, "they are at least +unknown to me!" + +He drew a short choking breath of relief. Yet even now the mystery was +deeper than ever! He began to think out loud. + +"A friend of yours it must have been," he declared. "Barnes was murdered +when in a few hours he would have parted with those letters to your +enemies; Bentham was murdered when he was on the point of discovering +them! There is some one working for you, guarding you, who desires to +remain unknown. I wonder!" + +He stopped short. A sudden illumining idea flashed through his mind. He +looked at Madame de Melbain fixedly. + +"This man Duncan who has disappeared so suddenly," he said thickly. "Whom +did you say--who was it that he reminded you of?" + +Madame de Melbain lost at last her composure. She was white to the lips, +her eyes seemed suddenly lit with a horrible dread. She pushed out her +hands as though to thrust it from her. + +"He was killed!" she cried. "It was not he! He is dead! Don't dare to +speak of anything so horrible!" + +Then, before they could realize that he was actually amongst them, he was +there. They heard only a crashing of boughs, the parting of the hedge. He +was there on his knees, with his arms around the terrified woman who had +sobbed out his name. Louise, too, swayed upon her feet, her fascinated +eyes fixed upon the newcomer. Wrayson understood, then, that in some way +this man had indeed come back from the dead. + +[Illustration: "HE WAS THERE ON HIS KNEES, WITH HIS ARMS AROUND THE +TERRIFIED WOMAN"] + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +RETURNED FROM THE TOMB + + +The intervention which a few seconds later abruptly terminated an +emotional crisis was in itself a very commonplace one. Monsieur the +proprietor deemed the moment advisable for solving a question which was +beginning to distract his better half in the kitchen. He advanced towards +them, all smiles and bows and gestures. + +"Monsieur would pardon his inquiring--would Monsieur and the ladies be +taking _dejeuner?_ A fowl of excellence unusual was then being +roasted, the salad--Monsieur could see it growing! And Madame had +thought of an omelet! There was no cooler place in all France on a day +of heat so extraordinary as the table under the trees yonder. And as +for strawberries--well, Monsieur could see them grow for himself! or +if it was _fraises de Bois_ that Madame preferred, the children had +brought in baskets full only that morning, fresh and juicy, and of a +wonderful size." + +Wrayson interrupted him at last. + +"Let luncheon be served as you suggest," he directed. "In the meantime--" + +Monsieur Jules understood and withdrew with more bows and smiles. The +significance of his brief appearance upon the lawn was a thing of which +he had not the least idea. Yet after his departure, the strain to a +certain extent had passed away. Only Madame de Melbain's eyes seemed +scarcely to leave the face of the man who stood still by her chair. + +"Alive!" she murmured, grasping his hand in hers. "You alive!" + +Louise had taken his other hand. He was imprisoned between the two. + +"Yes!" he said, "I made what they called a wonderful recovery. I suppose +it was almost a miracle." + +"But your death," Louise declared, "was never contradicted." + +"A good deal of news went astray about that time," he remarked grimly. "I +was left, and forgotten. When I found what had been done, I let it go. It +seemed to me to be better. I went up to Rhodesia, and of course I had the +devil's luck. I've come back to Europe simply because I couldn't stand it +any longer. I was not coming to England, and I had no idea of seeing you, +Emilie! I travelled here on a little pilgrimage." + +"It was fate," she murmured. + +"But since I am here," he continued, "and since we have met again, I must +ask you this. Your husband is trying to divorce you?" + +"Yes!" she murmured. + +"And why?" + +"Because he is a brute," she answered quietly. "We have been separated +for more than a year. I think that he wants to marry again." + +"And you permit this?" he asked. + +"No!" she answered, "I contest it. Up to now, the courts have been in +my favour." + +"Up to now! They must always be in your favour!" he declared vehemently. +"What can they say against a saint like you?" + +She smiled up at him tenderly, a little wistfully. + +"They would say a good deal," she whispered, "if they could see you +here now." + +He drew abruptly away. + +"I am a thoughtless brute," he declared. "It was for that that I decided +to remain dead. I will go away at once." + +Her fingers closed over his. She drew him a little nearer with glad +recklessness. + +"You shall not," she murmured. "It is worth a little risk, this." + +Wrayson touched Louise on the arm and they turned away. He found her a +seat in a quiet corner of the fruit garden, where a tall row of +hollyhocks shielded them from observation. She was very white, and in a +semi-hysterical state. + +"I can't believe," she said, "that that is really Duncan--Duncan himself. +It is too wonderful!" + +"There is no doubt about it being your brother," he answered. "What I +don't quite understand is why he has kept away so long." + +"It is because of her," she answered. "If they had been on the same +continent, I believe that nothing could have kept them apart!" + +"And now?" he asked. + +"I cannot tell," she answered, "I, nor any one else! God made them for +one another, I am very sure!" + +He took her hand and held it tightly in his. + +"And you for me, dearest," he whispered. "Shall I tell you why I am +sure of it?" + +She leaned back with half-closed eyes. Endurance has its limits, and the +mesmeric influence of the drowsy summer day was in her veins. + +"If you like," she murmured, simply.... + +And only a few yards away, the man from the dead and the woman who had +loved him seemed to have drifted into a summer day-dream. The strangeness +of this thing held them both--ordinary intercourse seemed impossible. +What they spoke about they scarcely knew! There were days, golden days to +be whispered about and lived again; treasured minutes to be recalled, +looks and words remembered. Of the future, of the actual present, save of +their two selves, they scarcely spoke. It was an hour snatched from +Paradise for her! She would not let it go lightly. She would not suffer +even a cloud to pass across it! + +In time, Monsieur Jules found himself constrained to announce that +_dejeuner_ was served. He found it useless to try to attract the +attention of either Madame de Melbain or Duncan, so he went in search +of Wrayson. + +"Monsieur is served," he announced, looking blandly upwards at a passing +cloud. "There remains the wine only." + +"Chablis of the best, and ice, and mineral water," Wrayson ordered. +"Come, Louise." + +She sighed a little as she rose and followed him along the narrow path, +where the rose-bushes brushed against her skirt, and the air was fragrant +with lavender. It had been an interlude only, after all, though the man +whose hand she still held would never have admitted it. But--he did not +know! She prayed to Heaven that he never might. + +Luncheon, after all, with a waiter within hearing, and Monsieur Jules +hovering round, banished in a great measure the curious sense of +unreality from which none of them were wholly free. And when coffee came, +Madame leaned a little towards Duncan, and with her hand upon his arm +whispered a question. + +"My letters, Duncan! What became of them?" + +He sighed. + +"I was a little rash, perhaps," he said, "but--they were all I had left. +They were with me at Colenso, in an envelope, sealed and addressed, to be +burnt unopened. When I was hit, I got a Red Cross man to cut them out of +my coat and destroy them." + +Madame de Melbain looked at him for a moment, and her eyes were soft +with unshed tears. Then she turned away, though her hand still +rested upon his. + +"Duncan," she said quietly, "don't think that I mind. You did all that +you could, and indeed I would rather that you cared so much. But the +letters were not destroyed." + +For a moment he failed to realize the import of her words. + +"Not destroyed?" he repeated, a little vaguely. + +"No!" she answered. "They came into the hands of some one in London. +Terrible things have happened in connexion with them. Duncan, if you will +listen to me quietly, I will tell you about it. Sit down, dear." + +She saw the gathering storm. The man's face was black with anger. He was +still a little dazed however. + +"You mean--that the man to whom I trusted them--" + +"He kept them for his own purpose," she said softly. + +"Don't look like that, Duncan. He has paid his debt. He is dead!" + +"And the letters?" + +"We do not know. My husband's advisers are trying to get possession of +them. That is why the courts have not yet pronounced their judgment." + +He had risen to his feet, but she drew him gently down again. + +"Remember, Duncan, that the man is dead! Be calm, and I will tell you all +about it." + +He looked at her wonderingly. + +"You are not angry with me?" + +"Angry! Why should I be? I am only happy to know that you never +forgot--that you could not bear to destroy the only link that was left +between us. Do you know, I am almost sorry that I spoke to you about +this! We seem to have snatched an hour or two out of Paradise, and it +is I who have stirred up the dark waters. Let us forget it for a few +more minutes!" + +He drew her away with him towards their seat under the trees. Wrayson +looked across at Louise with a smile. + +"You, too," he said. "May we not forget a little longer?" + +She smiled at him sadly, and shook her head. + +"No!" she answered. "With them it is different. I can scarcely yet +realize that I have a brother: think what it must be to Emilie to have +the man whom she loved come back from the grave. Listen!" + +Outside they heard the sound of galloping horses. A moment later the +Baron de Courcelles issued from the inn and crossed the lawn towards +Madame de Melbain. + +"Madame," he said, "the man who was caught in the park last night is, +without doubt, a spy from Mexonia! He can be charged with nothing more +serious than trespass, and in a few minutes he will be free. Should he +return, this"--he glanced towards Duncan--"would be the end. I have a +carriage waiting for you." + +Madame de Melbain rose at once. With a little gesture of excuse she drew +Duncan on one side. + +"Wait here," she begged, "until you hear from me. Baron de Courcelles is +my one faithful friend at Court. I am going to consult with him." + +"I shall see you again?" he asked. + +She hesitated. + +"Is it wise?" she murmured. "If my enemies knew that you were alive, +that I had seen you here, what chance should I have, do you think, +before the courts?" + +He bent over her hands. + +"I have brought enough trouble upon you," he said simply. "I will wait! +Only I hope that there will be work for me to do!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +AT THE HÔTEL SPLENDIDE + + +"I asked you," the Baron remarked, helping himself to _hors d'oeuvres,_ +"to dine with me here, because I fancy that the little inn at St. Étarpe +is being closely watched. Always when one has private matters to discuss, +I believe in a certain amount of publicity. Here we are in a quiet +corner, it is true, but we are surrounded by several hundreds of other +people. They are far too occupied with their own affairs to watch us. It +is the last place, for instance, where our friend from Mexonia would +dream of looking for us." + +The three men were seated at a small round table in the great +dining-room of the _Hôtel Splendide_ of Dinant-on-Sea. The season was at +its height, and the room was full. On every side they were surrounded by +chattering groups of English tourists and French holiday makers. Outside +on the promenade a band was playing, and a leisurely crowd was passing +back and forth. + +"The lady whom we will continue, if you please, to call Madame de +Melbain," the Baron continued, "has desired me to take you two gentlemen +into our entire confidence. You are both aware that for eighteen months +the suit for divorce brought by that lady's husband has been before a +special court." + +"One understands," Wrayson remarked, "that the sympathies of all Europe +are with--the lady." + +The Baron bowed. + +"Entirely. Her cause, too, is the popular one in Mexonia. It is the +ministry and the aristocracy who are on the other side. These are anxious +for an alliance which will safeguard Mexonia from certain dangers to +which she is at present exposed. Madame de Melbain, as you are both +aware, comes from one of the oldest families of Europe, but it is a +family without any political significance. The betrothal was completed +before Frederick stood so near to the throne. If his accession had seemed +even a likely thing at the time, it would not have been sanctioned. I +speak as the staunch friend of the lady whose cause is so dear to us, but +I wish you to grasp the facts." + +There was a brief pause whilst a fresh course was served by an apologetic +and breathless waiter. The three men spoke together for a while on some +chance subject. Then, when they were alone, the Baron continued. + +"The court, although powerful influences were at work, found itself +unable to pronounce the decree which those in authority so much desired. +All that those who were behind the scenes could do was to keep the case +open, hoping that while living apart from her husband some trifling +indiscretion on the part of Madame would afford them a pretext for giving +the desired verdict. I need not say that, up to the present, no such +indiscretion has occurred. But all the time we have been on the brink of +a volcano!" + +"The letters!" Duncan muttered. + +The Baron nodded. + +"About a year ago," he said, "Madame de Melbain received a terrifying +letter from the miscreant into whose hands they had fallen. Madame very +wisely made a confidant of me, and, with the Baroness de Sturm, I left +at once for London, and saw this man. I very soon persuaded myself that +he had the letters and that he knew their value. He asked a sum for them +which it was utterly unable for us to pay." + +"Did he explain," Duncan asked, "how they came into his hands?" + +"He said that they were picked up on the battlefield of Colenso at +first," the Baron declared. "Afterwards he was brutally frank. You see +your death was gazetted, a fact of which he was no doubt aware. He +admitted that they had been given to him to destroy." + +Duncan leaned across the table. + +"Baron," he said, "who killed that man? He cheated me of my task, but I +should like to know who it was." + +"So would a great many more of us," the Baron answered. "The fact is, we +are in the curious position of having an unknown friend." + +"An unknown friend?" Duncan repeated. + +The Baron nodded. + +"We paid that man two thousand a year," he said, "but he was not +satisfied. He communicated secretly with the other side, and they agreed +to buy the letters for ten thousand pounds. We knew the very night when +he had arranged to hand them over to a man named Bentham in London. But +we were powerless. We could not have found the half of ten thousand +pounds. One thing only was tried, and that very nearly ended in disaster. +An attempt was made to steal the letters. Mr. Wrayson will tell you about +that--presently." + +A _maître d'hôtel_ paused at their table to hope that messieurs were well +served. In a season so busy it was not possible to give the attention to +every one they would like! Was there anything he could do? Messieurs were +drinking, he noticed, the best wine in the cellars! He trusted that they +approved of it. The young lady there with the diamond collar and the +wonderful eyes? He bent a little lower over the table. That was +Mademoiselle Diane, of the Folies Bergères! And the gentleman? He had +registered under another name, but he was well known as the Baron X----, +a great capitalist in Paris! + +The _maître d'hôtel_ passed on, well satisfied that he had interested the +three distinguished looking gentlemen who dined alone. Wrayson, as soon +as he was out of hearing, leaned over the table. + +"It is on that night," he said to Duncan, "that I come into touch with +the affairs of which our friend has spoken. The man Barnes had a flat +corresponding to mine on the floor above. I returned home about midnight +and found a young lady, who was a complete stranger to me, engaged in +searching my desk. I turned up the lights and demanded an explanation. +She was apparently quite as much surprised to see me as I was to see her. +It appeared that she had imagined herself in Barnes' flat. Whilst I was +talking to her, the telephone bell rang. Some unknown person asked me to +convey a message to Barnes. When I had finished she was gone. I sat down +and tried to make head or tail of the affair. I couldn't. Barnes was a +disreputable little bounder! This girl was a lady. What connexion could +there be between the two? I fancied what might happen if she were +surprised by Barnes, and I determined not to go to bed until I heard her +come down. I fell asleep over my fire, and I woke with a start to find +her once more upon the threshold of my room. She was fainting--almost on +the point of collapse! I gave her some brandy and helped her downstairs. +At the door of the flat was a cab, and in it was the man Barnes, +dead--murdered!" + +The breath came through Duncan's teeth with a little hiss. One could +fancy that he was wishing that his had been the hand to strike the blow. +The Baron glanced round casually. He called a waiter and complained of +the slow service, sent for another bottle of wine, and lit a cigarette. + +"I think," he said, "that we will pause for a moment or so. Mr. +Wrayson's narrative is a little dramatic! Ah! Mademoiselle la danseuse +goes! What a toilet!" + +Mademoiselle favoured their table with her particular regard as she +passed out, and accepted with a delightful smile the fan which she +dropped in passing, and which the Baron as speedily restored. He resumed +his seat, stroking his grey moustache. + +"A very handsome young lady," he remarked. "I think that now we may +continue." + +"The girl?" Duncan asked quickly. + +"Was your sister," Wrayson answered. + +There was a moment's intense silence. Duncan was doing his best to look +unconcerned, but the hand which played with his wineglass shook. + +"How--was he murdered?" + +"Strangled with a fine cord," Wrayson answered. + +"In the cab?" + +"There or inside the building! It is impossible to say." + +"And no one was ever tried for the murder?" + +"No one," Wrayson answered. + +Duncan swallowed a glassful of wine. + +"But my sister," he said, "was in his rooms--she might have seen him!" + +"Your sister's name was never mentioned in the matter," Wrayson said. "I +was the only witness who knew anything about her--and--I said nothing." + +Duncan drew a little breath. + +"Why?" he asked. + +"An impulse," Wrayson answered. "I felt that she could not have been +concerned in such a deed, and I felt that if I told all that I knew, she +would have been suspected. So I said nothing. I saved her a good deal of +trouble and anxiety I dare say, and I do not believe that I interfered in +any way with the course of justice." + +Duncan looked across the table and raised his glass. + +"I should like to shake hands with you, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "only the +Baron would have fits. You acted like a brick. I only hope that Louise is +as grateful as she ought to be." + +"My silence," Wrayson said, "was really an impulse. There have been times +since when I have wondered whether I was wise. There are people now at +work in London trying to solve the mystery of this murder. I acted upon +the supposition that no one had seen your sister leave the flat except +myself. I found afterwards that I was mistaken!" + +The Baron leaned forward. + +"One moment, Mr. Wrayson," he interrupted. "You have said that there are +people in London who are trying to solve the mystery of Barnes' death. +Who are they?" + +"One is the man's brother," Wrayson answered, "if possible, a more +contemptible little cur than the man himself was. His only interest is +to discover the source of his brother's income. He wants money! Nothing +but money. The other is a much more dangerous person. His name is +Heneage, and he is an acquaintance of my own, a barrister, and a man of +education." + +"Why does he interest himself in such an affair?" Duncan asked. + +"Because the solution of such matters is a hobby of his," Wrayson +answered. "It was he who saw your sister and I come out from the flat +that morning. It was he who warned us both to leave England." + +The Baron leaned forward in his chair. + +"Forgive me, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "but there is a--lady at your right +who seems anxious to attract your attention. We are none of us anxious to +advertise our presence here. Is she, by any chance, a friend of yours?" + +Wrayson looked quickly round. He understood at once the Baron's slight +pause. The ladies of the French half-world are skilled enough, when +necessary, in concealing their profession: their English sister, if she +attempts it at all, attempts a hopeless task. Over-powdered, over-rouged, +with hair at least two shades nearer copper coloured than last time he +had seen her, badly but showily dressed, it was his friend from the +Alhambra whose welcoming smile Wrayson received with a thrill of +interest. She was seated at a small table with a slightly less repulsive +edition of herself, and her smile changed at once into a gesture of +invitation. Wrayson rose to his feet almost eagerly. + +"This is a coincidence," he said under his breath. "She, too, holds a +hand in the game!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A HAND IN THE GAME + + +The diners at the _Hotel Splendide_ were a little surprised to see the +tall, distinguished-looking Englishman leave his seat and accost with +quiet deference the elder of the two women, whose entrance a few minutes +before had occasioned a good many not very flattering comments. The lady +who called herself Blanche meant to make the most of her opportunity. + +"Fancy meeting you here," she remarked. "Flo, this is a friend of +mine. Mrs. Harrigod! Gentleman's name doesn't matter, does it?" she +added, laughing. + +Wrayson bowed, and murmured something inaudible. Blanche's friend +regarded him with unconcealed and flattering approval. + +"Over here for a little flutter, I suppose?" she remarked. "It is so hot +in town we had to get away somewhere. Are you alone with your friends?" + +"Quite alone," Wrayson answered. "We are only staying for a day or two." + +The lady nodded. + +"We shall stay for a week if we like it," she said. "If not, we shall go +on to Dieppe. Did you get my letter?" + +"Letter!" Wrayson repeated. "No! Have you written to me?" + +She nodded. + +"I wrote to you a week ago." + +"I have been staying near here," Wrayson said, "and my letters have not +been forwarded." + +He bent a little lower over the table. The perfume of violet scent was +almost unbearable, but he did not flinch. + +"You had some news for me?" he asked eagerly. + +"Yes!" she answered. "I'm not going to tell you now. We are going to +sit outside after dinner. You must come to us there. No good having +smart friends unless you make use of them," she added, with a shrill +little laugh. + +"I shall take some chairs and order coffee," Wrayson said. "In the +meantime--?" + +"If you like to order us a bottle of champagne and tell the waiter to put +it on your bill, we shan't be offended," Blanche declared. "We were just +wondering whether we could run to it." + +"You must do me the honour of being my guests for dinner also," +Wrayson declared, calling a waiter. "It was very good of you to +remember to write." + +The friend murmured something about it being very kind of the gentleman. +Blanche shrugged her shoulders. + +"Oh! I remember right enough," she said. "It wasn't that. But there, wait +until I've told you about it. It's an odd story, and sometimes I wish I'd +never had anything to do with it. I get a cold shiver every time I think +of that old man who took me to dine at Luigi's. Outside in three-quarters +of an hour, then!" + +"I will keep some chairs and order coffee," Wrayson said, turning away. + +"And bring one of your friends," Blanche added. "It won't do him any +harm. We shan't bite him!" + +"I will bring them both," Wrayson promised. + +He went back to his own table and people watched him curiously. + +"I believe," he said quietly, as he sat down, "that if there is a person +in the world who can put us on the track of those letters, it is the lady +with whom I have just been talking." + +The Baron looked across at the two women with new interest. + +"What on earth have they got to do with it, Wrayson?" he asked. + +"The fair one was a friend of Barnes'," Wrayson answered. "It was at her +flat that he called the night he was murdered." + +"You are sure," Duncan asked, "that the letters have not been found yet +by the other side?" + +"Quite sure," the Baron answered. "We have agents in Mexonia, even +about the King's person, and we should hear in an hour if they had +the letters." + +"Presuming, then," Duncan said thoughtfully, "that Barnes was murdered +for the sake of these letters--and as he was murdered on the very night +he was going to hand them over to the other side, I don't see what else +we can suppose,--the crime would appear to have been committed by some +one on our side." + +"It certainly does seem so," the Baron admitted. + +"And this man Bentham! He was the agent for--the King's people. He too +was murdered! Baron!" + +"Well?" + +"Who killed Barnes? He robbed me of my right, but I want to know." + +The Baron shook his head. + +"I have no idea," he said gravely. "We have agents in London, of course, +but no one who would go to such lengths. I do not know who killed +Barnes, nor do I know who killed Bentham." + +There was a short silence. The Baron's words were impressively spoken. +It was impossible to doubt their veracity. Yet both to Wrayson and to +Duncan they had a serious import. The same thought was present in the +mind of all three of them--and each avoided the others' eyes. Wrayson, +however, was not disposed to let the matter go without one more +effort. The corners of his mouth tightened, and he looked the Baron +steadily in the face. + +"Baron," he said, "I have told you that there is a man in London who has +set himself to solve the mystery of Barnes' death. The two people whom he +would naturally suspect are Miss Fitzmaurice and myself. There is strong +presumptive evidence against us, owing to my silence at the inquest, and +at any moment we might either of us have to face this charge. Knowing +this, do I understand you to say that, if the necessity arose, you would +be absolutely unable to throw any light upon the matter?" + +"Absolutely!" the Baron declared. "Both those murders are as complete an +enigma to me as to you." + +"You have agents in London?" + +"Agents, yes!" the Baron declared, "but they are in the nature of +detectives only. They would not dream of going to such lengths, either +with instructions or without them. Neither, I am sure, would any one who +was employed to collect evidence upon the other side." + +There was no more to be said. Wrayson rose to his feet a little abruptly. + +"The air is stifling here," he said. "Let us go outside and take +our coffee." + +They found seats on the veranda, looking out upon the promenade. The +Baron looked a little dubiously at the stream of people passing backwards +and forwards. + +"Are we not a little conspicuous?" he remarked. + +"Does it really matter?" Wrayson asked. "It is only for this evening. I +shall leave for London tomorrow, in any event. Besides, it is part of the +bargain that we take coffee with these ladies. Here they are." + +Wrayson introduced his friends with perfect gravity. Chairs were found, +and coffee and liqueurs ordered. Wrayson contrived to sit on the outside, +and next to his copper-haired friend. + +"Now for our little talk," he said. "Will you have a cigarette? You'll +find these all right." + +She threw a sidelong glance at him and sighed. What an exceedingly +earnest young man this was! + +"Well," she said, "I know you'll give me no peace till I've told you. +There may be nothing in it. That's for you to find out. I think myself +there is. It was last Thursday night in the promenade at the Alhambra +that I saw her!" + +"Saw whom?" Wrayson interrupted. + +"I'm coming to that," she declared. "Let me tell you my own way. I was +talking to a friend, and I overheard all that she said. She was quietly +dressed, and she looked frightened; a poor, pale-faced little thing she +was anyway, and she was walking up and down like a stage-doll, peering +round corners and looking everywhere, as though she'd lost somebody. +Presently she went up to one of the attendants, and I heard her ask him +if he knew a Mr. Augustus Howard who came there often. The man shook his +head, and then she tried to describe him. It was a bit flattering, but +an idea jumped into my head all of a sudden that it was Barnes she was +looking for." + +"By Jove!" Wrayson muttered, under his breath. "Did you speak to her?" + +She nodded. + +"I waited till she was alone, and then I made her sit down with me and +describe him all over again. By the time she'd finished, I was jolly well +sure that it was Barnes she was after." + +"Did you tell her?" Wrayson asked. + +"Not I!" she answered. "I didn't want a scene there, and besides, it's +your little show, not mine. I told her that I felt sure I recognized him, +and that if she would be in the same place at nine o'clock a week from +that night, I could send some one whom I thought would be able to tell +her about her friend. That was last Thursday. You want to be just outside +the refreshment-room at nine o'clock to-morrow night, and you can't +mistake her. She looks as though she'd blown in from an A B C shop." + +Wrayson possessed himself of her hand for a moment in an impulse of +apparent gallantry. Something which rustled pleasantly was instantly and +safely transferred to the metal purse which hung from her waistband. + +"You will allow me?" he murmured. + +"Rather," she answered, with a little laugh. "What a stroke of luck it +was meeting you here! Flo and I were both stony. We hadn't a sovereign +between us when we'd paid for our tickets." + +"Have you seen anything of Barnes' brother?" he asked. + +"Once or twice at the Alhambra," she answered. + +"He was wearing his brother's clothes, but he looked pretty dicky." + +"You didn't mention this young woman to him, I suppose?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"Not I! You're the only person I've told. Hope it brings you luck." + +Wrayson rose to his feet. The Baron and Duncan followed his example. They +took leave of the ladies and turned towards the promenade. + +"I'm going to London by the morning boat," Wrayson announced. "I believe +I'm on the track of those letters." + +They walked up and down for a few moments talking. As they passed the +front of the hotel, they heard a shrill peal of laughter. Blanche and her +friend were talking to a little group of men. The Baron smiled. + +"We have broken the ice for them," he said, "but I am afraid that we are +already forgotten." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +AN ILL-ASSORTED COUPLE + + +Wrayson looked anxiously at his watch. It was already ten minutes past +nine, and although he was standing on the precise spot indicated, there +was no one about who in the least resembled the young woman of whom he +was in search. The overture to the ballet was being played, a good many +people were strolling about, or seated at the small round tables, but +they were all of the usual class, the ladies ornate and obvious, and all +having the air of _habitués_. In vain Wrayson scanned the faces of the +passers-by, and even the occupants of the back seats. There was no sign +of the young woman of whom he was in search. + +Presently he began to stroll somewhat aimlessly about, still taking note +of every one amongst the throng, and in a little while he caught sight of +a familiar figure, sitting alone at one of the small round tables. He +accosted him at once. + +"How are you, Heneage?" he said quietly. "What are you doing in town at +this time of the year?" + +Heneage started when he was addressed, and his manner, when he recognized +Wrayson, lacked altogether its usual composure. + +"I'm all right," he answered. "Beastly hot in town, though, isn't it? I'm +off in a day or two. Where have you been to?" + +"North of France," Wrayson answered. "You look as though you wanted +a change!" + +"I'm going to Scotland directly I can get away." + +The two men looked at one another for a moment. Heneage was certainly +looking ill. There were dark lines under his eyes, and his face seemed +thinner. Then, too, he was still in his morning clothes, his tie was ill +arranged, and his linen not unexceptionable. Wrayson was puzzled. +Something had gone wrong with the man. + +"You see," he said quietly, "I have been forced to disregard your +warning. I shall be in England for some little time at any rate. May I +ask, am I in any particular danger?" + +Heneage shook his head. + +"Not from me, at any rate!" + +Wrayson looked at him for a moment steadily. + +"Do you mean that, Heneage?" he asked. + +"Yes!" + +"You are satisfied, then, that neither I nor the young lady had +anything to do with the death of Morris Barnes?" Heneage moved in his +chair uneasily. + +"Yes!" he answered. "Don't talk to me about that damned business," he +added, with a little burst of half-suppressed passion. "I've done with +it. Come and have a drink." + +Wrayson drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps, for the first time, he realized +how great a weight this thing had been upon his spirits. He had feared +Heneage!--not this man, but the cold, capable Stephen Heneage of his +earlier acquaintance; feared him not only for his own sake, but hers. +After all, his visit to the Alhambra had brought some good to him. + +Heneage had risen to his feet. + +"We'll go into the American bar," he said. "Not here. The women fuss +round one so. I'm glad you've turned up, Wrayson. I've got the hump!" + +The bar was crowded, but they found a quiet corner. Heneage ordered a +large brandy and soda, and drunk half of it at a gulp. + +"How's every one?" Wrayson asked. "I haven't been in the club yet." + +"All right, I believe. I haven't been in myself for a week," +Heneage answered. + +Wrayson looked at him in surprise. + +"Haven't been in the club for a week?" he repeated. "That's rather +unusual, isn't it?" + +"Damn it all! I'm not obliged to go there, am I?" Heneage +exclaimed testily. + +Wrayson looked at him in amazement. Heneage, as a rule, was one of the +most deliberate and even-tempered of men. + +"Of course not," he answered. "You won't mind telling me how the Colonel +is, though, will you?" + +"I believe he is very well," Heneage answered, more calmly. "He doesn't +come up to town so often this hot weather. Forgive me for being a bit +impatient, old fellow. I've got a fit of nerves, I think." + +"You want a change," Wrayson said earnestly. "There's no doubt +about that." + +"I am going away very soon," Heneage answered. "As soon as I can get off. +I don't mind telling you, Wrayson, that I've had a shock, and it has +upset me." + +Wrayson nodded sympathetically. + +"All right, old chap," he said. "I'm beastly sorry, but if you take my +advice, you'll get out of London as soon as you can. Go to Trouville or +Dinard, or some place where there's plenty of life. I shouldn't busy +myself in the country, if I were you. By the bye," he added, "there is +one more question I should like to ask you, if you don't mind." + +Heneage called a waiter and ordered more drinks. Then he turned to +Wrayson. + +"Well," he said, "go on!" + +"About that little brute, Barnes' brother. Is he about still?" + +Heneage's face darkened. He clenched his fist, but recovered himself with +a visible effort. + +"Yes!" he answered shortly, "he is about. He is everywhere. The little +brute haunts me! He dogs my footsteps, Wrayson. Sometimes I wonder that I +don't sweep him off the face of the earth." + +"But why?" Wrayson asked. "What does he want with you?" + +"I will tell you," Heneage answered. "When he first turned up, I was +interested in his story, as you know. We commenced working at the thing +together. You understand, Wrayson?" + +"Perfectly!" + +"Well--after a while it suited me--to drop it. Perhaps I told him so a +little abruptly. At any rate, he was disappointed. Now he has got an idea +in his brain. He believes that I have discovered something which I will +not tell him. He follows me about. He pesters me to death. He is a slave +to that one idea--a hideous, almost unnatural craving to get his hands +on the source of his brother's money. I think that he will very soon be +mad. To tell you the truth, I came in here to-night because I thought I +should be safe from him. I don't believe he has five shillings to get in +the place." + +Wrayson lit a cigarette and smoked for a moment in silence. Then he +turned towards his companion. + +"Heneage," he said, "I don't want to annoy you, but you must remember +that this matter means a good deal to me. I am forced to ask you a +question, and you must answer it. Have you really found anything out? You +don't often give a thing up without a reason." + +Heneage answered him with greater composure than he had expected, though +perhaps to less satisfactory effect. + +"Look here, Wrayson," he said, "you appreciate plain speaking, +don't you?" + +Wrayson nodded. Heneage continued: + +"You can go to hell with your questions! You understand that? It's +plain English." + +"Admirably simple," Wrayson answered, "and perfectly satisfactory." + +"What do you mean?" + +"It answers my question," Wrayson declared quietly. + +Heneage shrugged his shoulders. + +"You can get what satisfaction you like out of it," he said doggedly. + +"It isn't much," Wrayson admitted. "I wish I could induce you to treat me +a little more generously." + +Heneage looked at him with a curious gleam in his eyes. + +"Look here," he said. "Take my advice. Drop the whole affair. You see +what it's made of me. It'll do the same to you. I shan't tell you +anything! You can swear to that. I've done with it, Wrayson, done with +it! You understand that? Talk about something else, or leave me alone!" + +Wrayson looked at the man whom he had once called his friend. + +"You're in a queer sort of mood, Heneage," he said. + +"Let it go at that," Heneage answered. "Every man has a right to his +moods, hasn't he? No right to inflict them upon his friends, you'd say! +Perhaps not, but you know I'm a reasonable person as a rule. +Don't--don't--" + +He broke off abruptly in his sentence. His eyes were fixed upon a distant +corner of the room. Their expression was unfathomable, but Wrayson +shuddered as he looked away and followed their direction. Then he, too, +started. He recognized the miserable little figure whose presence a group +just broken up left revealed. Heneage rose softly to his feet. + +"Let us go before he sees us," he whispered hurriedly. "Look sharp!" + +But they were too late. Already he was on his way towards them, shambling +rather than walking down the room, an unwholesome, unattractive, even +repulsive figure. He seemed to have shrunken in size since his arrival in +England, and his brother's clothes, always too large, hung about him +loose and ungraceful. His tie was grimy; his shirt frayed; his trousers +turned up, but still falling over his heels; his hat, too large for him, +came almost to his ears. In the increased pallor and thinness of his +face, his dark eyes seemed to have come nearer together. He would have +been a ludicrous object but for the intense earnestness of his +expression. He came towards them with rapidly blinking eyes. He took no +notice of Heneage, but he insisted upon shaking hands with Wrayson. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "I am glad to see you again, sir. You always +treated me like a gentleman. Not like him," he added, motioning with his +head towards Heneage. "He's a thief, he is!" + +"Steady," Wrayson interrupted, "you mustn't call people names like that." + +"Why not?" Barnes asked. "He is a thief. He knows it. He knows who robbed +me of my money. And he won't tell. That's what I call being a thief." + +Wrayson glanced towards Heneage and was amazed at his demeanour. He had +shrunk back in his chair, and he was sitting with his hands in his +pockets and his eyes fixed upon the table. Of the two, his miserable +little accuser was the dominant figure. + +"He's very likely spending it now--my money!" Barnes continued. "Here +am I living on crusts and four-penny dinners, and begging my way in +here, and some one else is spending my money. Never mind! It may be my +turn yet! It may be only a matter of hours," he added, leaning over +towards them and showing his yellow teeth, "and I may have the laugh on +both of you." + +Heneage looked up quickly. He was obviously discomposed. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +Sydney Barnes indulged in the graceless but expressive proceeding of +sticking his tongue in his cheek. After which he turned to Wrayson. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "lend me a quid. I've got the flat to sleep in +for a few more weeks, but I haven't got money enough for a meal. I'll pay +you back some day--perhaps before you expect it." + +Wrayson produced a sovereign and handed it over silently. + +"If I were you," he said, "I'd spend my time looking for a situation, +instead of hunting about for this supposed fortune of your brother's." + +Barnes took the sovereign with hot, trembling fingers, and deposited it +carefully in his waistcoat pocket. Then he smiled in a somewhat +mysterious manner. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "perhaps I'm not so far off, after all. Other +people can find out what he knows," he added, pointing at Heneage. "He +ain't the only one who can see through a brick wall. Say, Mr. Wrayson, +you've always treated me fair and square," he added, leaning towards him +and dropping his voice. "Can you tell me this? Did Morry ever go +swaggering about calling himself by any other name--bit more tony, eh?" + +Wrayson started. For a moment he did not reply. Thoughts were rushing +through his brain. Was he forestalled in his search for this girl? +Meanwhile, Barnes watched him with a cunning gleam in his deep-set eyes. + +"Such as Augustus Howard, eh? Real tony name that for Morry!" + +Wrayson, with a sudden instinctive knowledge, brushed him on one side, +and half standing up, gazed across the room at the corner from which his +questioner had come. With her back against the wall, her cheap prettiness +marred by her red eyes, her ill-arranged hair, and ugly hat, sat, beyond +a doubt, the girl for whom he had waited in the promenade. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +HIS WIFE + + +Wrayson drew a little breath and looked back at Sydney Barnes. + +"You asked me a question," he said. "I believe I have heard of your +brother calling himself by some such name." + +Barnes grasped him by the arm. + +"Look here," he said, "come and repeat that to the young lady over there. +She's with me. It won't do you any harm." + +Wrayson rose to his feet, but before he could move he felt Heneage's hand +fall upon his arm. + +"Where are you going, Wrayson?" he asked. + +Barnes looked up at him anxiously. His pale face seemed twisted +into a scowl. + +"Don't you interfere!" he exclaimed. "You've done me enough harm, you +have. You let Mr. Wrayson pass. He's coming with me." + +Heneage took no more notice of him than he would of a yapping terrier. He +looked over his head into Wrayson's eyes. + +"Wrayson," he said, "don't have anything more to do with this business. +Take my advice. I know more than you do about it. If you go on, I swear +to you that there is nothing but misery at the end." + +"I know more than you think I do," Wrayson answered quietly. "I know more +indeed than you have any idea of. If the end were in hell I should not +hold back." + +Heneage hesitated for a moment. He stood there with darkening face, an +obstinate, almost a threatening figure. Passers-by looked with a gleam of +interest at the oddly assorted trio, whose conversation was obviously far +removed from the ordinary chatter of the loungers about the place. One or +two made an excuse to linger by--it seemed possible that there might be +developments. Heneage, however, disappointed them. He turned suddenly +upon his heel and left the room. Those who had the curiosity to follow +along the corridor saw him, without glancing to the right or to the left, +descend the stairs and walk out of the building. He had the air of a man +who abandons finally a hopeless task. + +The look of relief in Barnes' face as he saw him go was a ludicrous +thing. He drew Wrayson at once towards the corner. + +"Queer thing about this girl," he whispered in his ear. "She ain't like +the others about here. She just comes to make inquiries about a friend +who's given her the chuck, and whose name she says was Howard. I believe +it's Morry she means. Just like him to take a toff's name!" + +"Wait a moment before we speak to her," Wrayson said. "How did you +find her out?" + +"She spoke to me," Barnes answered. "Asked me if my name was Howard, said +I was a bit like the man she was looking for. Then I palled up to her, +and I'm pretty certain Morry was her man. I want her to go to the flat +with me and see his clothes and picture, but she's scared. Mr. Wrayson, +you might do me a good turn. She'll come if you'd go too!" + +"Do you know why I am here to-night?" Wrayson asked. + +"No! Why?" + +"To meet that young woman of yours," Wrayson answered. + +Barnes looked at him in amazement. + +"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. "You don't know her, do you?" + +His sallow cheeks were paler than ever. His narrow eyes, furtively raised +to Wrayson's, were full of inquisitive fear. + +"No! I don't know her," Wrayson answered, "but I rather fancy, all the +same, that she is the young person whom I came here to meet to-night." + +Barnes waited breathlessly for an explanation. He did not say a word, but +his whole attitude was an insistent interrogation point. + +"You remember," Wrayson said, "that when you and I were pursuing these +investigations together, I made some inquiries of the woman at whose flat +your brother called on the night of his murder. I saw her again at Dinant +yesterday, and she told me of this young person. She also evidently +believed that the man for whom she was inquiring was your brother." + +Barnes nodded. + +"She told me that she was to have met a gentleman to-night," he said. +"Here, we must go and speak to her now, or she'll think that +something's up." + +He performed something that was meant for an introduction. + +"Friend of mine, Miss," he said, indicating Wrayson. "Knew my brother +well, lived in the flat just below him, in fact. Perhaps you'd like to +ask him a few questions." + +"There is only one question I want answered," the girl replied, with +straining eyes fixed upon Wrayson's face, and a little break in her tone. +"Shall I see him again? If Augustus was really--his brother--where is he? +What has happened to him?" + +There was a moment's silence. Sydney Barnes had evidently said nothing as +to his brother's tragic end. Wrayson could see, too, that the girl was on +the brink of hysterics, and needed careful handling. + +"We will tell you everything," he said presently. "But first of all +we have to decide whether your Augustus Howard and Morris Barnes were +the same person. I think that the best way for you to decide this +would be to come home to my flat. Mr. Barnes' is just above, and I +dare say you can recognize some of his brother's belongings, if he +really was--your friend." + +She rose at once. She was perfectly willing to go. They left the place +together and entered a four-wheeler. During the drive she scarcely opened +her lips. She sat in a corner looking absently out of the window, and +nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. She answered a remark of +Sydney Barnes' without turning her head. + +"I always watch the people," she said. "Wherever I am, I always look +out of the window. I have always hoped--that I might see Augustus again +that way." + +Wrayson, from his seat in the opposite corner of the cab, watched her +with growing sympathy. In her very conformity to type, she represented so +naturally a real and living unit of humanity. Her poor commonplace +prettiness was already on the wane, stamped out by the fear and trouble +of the last few months. Yet inane though her features, lacking altogether +strength or distinction, there was stamped into them something of that +dumb, dog-like fidelity to some object which redeemed them from utter +insignificance. Wrayson, as he watched her, found himself thinking more +kindly of the dead man himself. In his vulgar, selfish way, he had +probably been kind to her: he must have done something to have kindled +this flame of dogged, persevering affection. Already he scarcely doubted +that Morris Barnes and Augustus Howard had been the same person. Within a +very few minutes of her entering the flats there remained no doubt at +all. With a low moan, like a dumb animal mortally hurt, she sank down +upon the nearest chair, clasping the photograph which Sydney Barnes had +passed her in her hands. + +For a few moments there was silence. Then she looked up--at Wrayson. Her +lips moved but no words came. She began again. This time he was able to +catch the indistinct whisper. + +"Where is he?" + +Wrayson took a seat by her side upon the sofa. + +"You do not read the newspapers?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"Not much. My eyes are not very good, and it tires me to read." + +"I am afraid," he said gently, "that it will be bad news." + +A little sob caught in her throat. + +"Go on," she faltered. + +"He is dead," Wrayson said simply. + +She fainted quietly away. + +Wrayson hurried downstairs to his own flat for some brandy. When he +returned the girl was still unconscious. Her pocket was turned inside out +and the front of her dress was disordered. Sydney Barnes was bending +close over her. Wrayson pushed him roughly away. + +"You can wait, at least, until she is well," he said contemptuously. + +Sydney Barnes was wholly unabashed. He watched Wrayson pour brandy +between the girl's lips, bathe her temples, and chafe her hands. All the +time he stood doggedly waiting close by. No considerations of decency or +humanity would weigh with him for one single second. The fever of his +great desire still ran like fire through his veins. He did not think of +the girl as a human creature at all. Simply there was a pair of lips +there which might point out to him the way to his Paradise. + +She opened her eyes at last. Sydney Barnes came a step nearer, but +Wrayson pushed him once more roughly away. + +"You are feeling better?" he asked kindly. + +She nodded, and struggled up into a sitting posture. + +"Tell me," she said, "how did he die? It must have been quite sudden. Was +it an accident?--or--or--" + +He saw the terror in her eyes, and he spoke quickly. All the time he +found himself wondering how it was that she was guessing at the truth. + +"We are afraid," he said "that he was murdered. It is surprising that you +did not read about it in the papers." + +She shook her head. + +"I do not read much," she said, "and the name was different. Who was +it--that killed him?" + +"No one knows," he answered. + +"When was it?" she asked. + +He told her the date. She repeated it tearfully. + +"He was down with me the day before," she said. "He was terribly excited +all the time, and I know that he was a little afraid of something +happening to him. He had been threatened!" + +"Do you know by whom?" Wrayson asked. + +She shook her head. + +"He never told me," she answered. "He didn't tell me much. But he was +very, very good to me. I was at the refreshment-room at London Bridge +when I first met him. He used to come in and see me every day. Then he +began to take me out, and at last he found me a little house down at +Putney, and I was so happy. I had been so tired all my life," she added, +with a little sigh, "and down there I did nothing but rest and rest and +wait for him to come. It was too good to last, of course, but I didn't +think it would end like this!" + +Quietly but very persistently Sydney Barnes insisted on being heard. + +"It's my turn now," he said, standing by Wrayson's side. "Look here, +Miss, I'm his brother. You can see that, can't you?" + +"You are something like him," she admitted, "only he was much, much nicer +to look at than you." + +"Never mind that," he continued eagerly. "I'm his brother, his nearest +relative. Everything he left behind belongs to me!" + +"Not--quite everything," she protested. + +"What do you mean?" he asked sharply. + +"You may be his brother," she answered, "but I," holding out her left +hand a little nervously, "I was his wife!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +THE MURDERED MAN'S EFFECTS + + +Both men had been totally unprepared for the girl's timid avowal. To +Wrayson, however, after the first mild shock of surprise, it was of no +special import. To Sydney Barnes, although he made a speedy effort to +grapple with the situation, it came very much as a thunderclap. + +"You have your certificate?" he asked sharply. "You were married properly +in a church?" + +She nodded. "We were married at Dulwich Parish Church," she answered. "It +was nearly a year ago." + +"Very well," Sydney Barnes said. "It is lucky that I am here to look +after your interests. We divide everything, you know." + +She seemed about to cry. + +"I want Augustus," she murmured. "He was very good to me." + +"Look here," he said, "Augustus always seemed to have plenty of oof, +didn't he?" + +She nodded. + +"He was very generous with it, too," she declared. "He gave me lots and +lots of beautiful things." + +His eyes travelled over her hands and neck, destitute of ornaments. + +"Where are they?" he asked sharply. + +"I've had to sell them," she answered, "to get along at all, I hated to, +but I couldn't starve." + +The young man's face darkened. + +"Come," he said. "We'd better have no secrets from one another. You know +how to get at his money, I suppose?" + +She shook her head. + +"Indeed I don't know anything about it," she declared. + +"You must know where it came from," he persisted. + +"I don't," she repeated. "Indeed I don't. He never told me and I never +asked him. I understood that he had made it in South Africa." + +Sydney Barnes wiped the perspiration from his forehead. + +"Look here," he said in a voice which, notwithstanding his efforts to +control it, trembled a little, "this is a very serious matter for us. You +don't want to go back to the refreshment bar again, do you?" + +"I don't care what I do," she answered dully. "I hated that, but I shall +hate everything now that he is gone." + +"It's only for a day or two you'll feel like that," he declared. "We've +got a right, you and I, to whatever Morry left behind, and whatever +happens I mean to have my share. Look around you!" + +It was not an inspiring spectacle. The room was dirty, and almost devoid +of furniture. + +"All that I've had out of it so far," he declared, "is free quarters +here. The rent's paid up to the end of the year. I've had to sell the +furniture bit by bit to keep alive. It was a cheap lot, cheap and showy, +and it fetched jolly little. Morry always did like to have things that +looked worth more than he gave for them. Even his jewellery was +sham--every bally bit of it. There wasn't a real pearl or a real diamond +amongst the lot. But there's no doubt about the money. I've had the +bank-book. He was worth a cool two thousand a year was Morry--that's +five hundred each quarter day, you understand, and somewhere or other +there must be the bonds or securities from which this money came. He +never kept them here. I'll swear to that. Therefore they must be +somewhere that you ought to know about." + +She nodded wearily. + +"Very likely," she said. "I have a parcel he gave me to take care of." + +The effect of her simple words on Barnes was almost magical. The dull +colour streamed into his sallow cheeks, he shook all over with +excitement. His voice, when he spoke, was almost hysterical. He had been +so near to despair. This indeed had been almost his last hope. + +"A parcel!" he gasped. "A parcel! What sort of a parcel? Did he say that +it was important?" + +"It's just a long envelope tied up with red tape and sealed," she +answered. "Yes! he made a great fuss about leaving it with me." + +"Tell us all about it," he demanded greedily. "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! +Be quick!" + +"It must have been almost the very day it happened," she said, with a +little shudder. "He came down in the afternoon and he seemed a bit queer, +as though he had something on his mind. He took out the envelope once or +twice and looked at it. Once he said to me, 'Agnes,' he said, 'there are +men in London who, if they knew that I carried this with me, would kill +me for it. I was frightened, and I begged him to leave it somewhere. I +think he said that he had to have it always with him, because he couldn't +think of a safe hiding-place for it. Just as he was going, though, he +came back and took it out of his pocket once more." + +"He left it with you?" Barnes exclaimed. "You have it safe?" + +She nodded. + +"I was going to tell you. 'Look here, Agnes,' he said, 'I'm nervous +to-night. I don't want to carry this about with me. I shall want it +to-morrow and I'll come down for it. To-night's a dangerous night for +me to be carrying it about.' Those were just about his last words. He +gave me the packet and I begged him to be careful. Then he kissed me +and off he went, smoking a cigar, and as cheerful as though he were +going to a wedding." + +She began to cry again, but Barnes broke in upon her grief. + +"Didn't he tell you anything more about it?" he demanded. + +"He told me--if anything happened to him," she sobbed, "to open it." + +"We must do so," he declared. "We must do so at once. There must be a +quarter's dividends overdue. We can get the money to-morrow, and +then--oh! my God!" he exclaimed, as though the very anticipation made him +faint. "Where is the packet?" + +"At the bottom of my tin trunk in my rooms," she answered. "I had to +leave the house. I couldn't pay the rent any longer." + +"Where are the rooms?" he demanded. "We'll go there now." + +"In Labrador Street," she answered. "It's a poor part, but I've only a +few shillings in the world." + +"We'll have a cab," he declared, rising. "Mr. Wrayson will lend us the +money, perhaps?" + +"I will come with you," Wrayson said quietly. + +"We needn't bother you to do that," Sydney Barnes declared, with a +suspicious glance. + +The young woman looked towards him appealingly. He nodded reassuringly. + +"I think," he said, "that it will be better for me to come. I am +concerned in this business after all, you know." + +"I don't see how," Barnes declared sullenly. "_If_ this young lady is my +sister-in-law, surely she and I can settle up our own affairs." + +Wrayson stood with his back to the door, facing them. + +"I hope," he said, "that you will not, either of you, be disappointed in +what you find in that packet. But I think it is only right to warn you. I +have reason to believe that you will not find any securities or bonds +there at all! I believe that you will find that packet to consist of +merely a bundle of old letters and a photograph!" + +Barnes spat upon the floor. He was shaking with fright and anger. + +"I don't believe it," he declared. "What can you know about it?" + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"Look here," he said, "the matter is easily settled. We will put this +young lady in a cab and she shall bring the packet to my flat below. You +and she shall open it, and if you find securities there I have no more to +say, except to wish you both luck. If, on the other hand, you find the +letters, it will be a different matter." + +The girl had risen to her feet. + +"I would rather go alone," she said. "If you will pay my cab, I will +bring the packet straight back." + +Wrayson and Barnes waited in the former's flat. Barnes drank two brandy +and sodas, and walked restlessly up and down the room. Wrayson was busy +at the telephone, and carried on a conversation for some moments in +French. Directly he had finished, Barnes turned upon him. + +"Whom were you talking to?" he demanded. + +"A friend of yours," he answered. "I have asked her to come round for a +few minutes." + +"A friend of mine?" + +"The Baroness!" + +The colour burned once more in his cheeks. He looked down at his attire +with dissatisfaction. + +"I didn't want to see her again just yet," he muttered. Wrayson smiled. + +"She won't look at your clothes," he remarked, "and I rather want +her here." + +Barnes was suddenly suspicious. + +"What for?" he demanded. "What has she got to do with the affair? I won't +have strangers present." + +"My young friend," Wrayson said, "I may just as well warn you that I +think you are going to be disappointed. I am almost certain that I know +the contents of that packet. You will find that it consists, as I told +you before, not of securities at all, but simply a few old letters." + +Barnes' eyes narrowed. + +"Whatever they are," he said, "they meant a couple of thousand a year to +Morry, and they were worth his life to somebody! How do you account for +that, eh?" + +"You want the truth?" Wrayson asked. + +"Yes!" + +"Your brother was a blackmailer!" + +The breath came through Barnes' teeth with a little hiss. He realized +his position almost at once. He was trapped. + +He walked up to Wrayson's side. His voice shook, but he was in +deadly earnest. + +"Look here," he said, "the contents of that packet, whatever they may be, +are mine--mine and hers! You have nothing to do with the matter at all. I +will not have you in the room when they are opened." + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"The packet will be opened here," he said, "and I shall certainly +be present." + +Barnes ground his teeth. + +"If you touch one of those papers or letters or whatever they may be, you +shall be prosecuted for theft," he declared. "I swear it!" + +Wrayson smiled. + +"I will run the risk," he declared. "Ah! Baroness, this is kind of you," +he added, throwing open the door and ushering her in. "There is a young +friend of yours here who is dying to renew his acquaintance with you." + +She smiled delightfully at Sydney Barnes, and threw back her cloak. +She had just come in from the opera, and diamonds were flashing +from her neck and bosom. Her gown was exquisite, the touch of her +fingers an enchantment. It was impossible for him to resist the +spell of her presence. + +"You have been very unkind," she declared. "You have not been to see me +for a very long time. I do not think that I shall forgive you. What do +you say, Mr. Wrayson? Do you think that he deserves it?" + +Wrayson smiled as he threw open the door once more. He felt that the next +few minutes might prove interesting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +THE WIDOW'S ULTIMATUM + + +Sydney Barnes stepped quickly forward. If Wrayson had permitted it, he +would have snatched the packet from the girl's fingers. Wrayson, however, +saw his intent and intervened. He stepped forward and led her to his +writing table. + +"I want you to sit down here quietly and open the envelope," he said, +switching on the electric lamp. "That is what he told you to do, isn't +it? There may be a message for you inside." + +She looked round a little fearfully. The presence of the Baroness +evidently discomposed her. + +"I thought," she said, "that we were going to be alone, that there would +have been no one here but him and you." + +"The lady is a friend of mine," Wrayson said, "and it is very likely that +she may be interested in the contents of this envelope." + +She untied the string with trembling fingers. Wrayson handed her a +paper-knife and she cut open the top of the envelope. Then she looked up +at him appealingly. + +"I--I don't want to look inside," she half sobbed. + +Wrayson took up the envelope and shook out its contents before her. There +was a letter addressed simply to Agnes, and a small packet wrapped in +brown oilcloth and secured with dark-green ribbon. Sydney Barnes' hand +stole out, but Wrayson was too quick for him. He changed his position, +so as to interpose his person between the packet and any one in the room. + +"Read the letter," he told the girl. "It is addressed to you." + +She handed it to him. Her eyes were blinded with tears. + +"Read it for me, please," she said. + +He tore open the envelope and read the few lines scrawled upon a half +sheet of notepaper. He read them very softly into her ear, but the words +were audible enough to all of them. + +"MY DEAR AGNES,--I have just discovered that there are some people on my +track who mean mischief. I have a secret they want to rob me of. I seem +to be followed about everywhere I go. What they want is the little packet +in this envelope. I'm leaving it with you because I daren't carry it +about with me. I've had two narrow escapes already. + +"Now you'll never read this letter unless anything happens to me. I've +made up my mind to sell this packet for what I can get for it, and take +you with me out of the country. It'll be a matter of ten thousand quid, +and I only wish I had my fingers on it now and was well out of the +country. But this is where the rub comes in. If anything happens to me +before I can bring this off, I'm hanged if I know what to tell you to do +with the packet. It's worth its weight in banknotes to more persons than +one, but there's a beastly risk in having anything to do with it. I think +you'd better burn it! There's money in it, but I don't see how you could +handle it. Burn it, Agnes. It's too risky a business for you! I only +hope that in a week or so I shall burn this letter myself, and you and I +will be on our way to America. + +"So long, Nessie, + +"from your loving husband. + +"P.S.--By the bye, my real name is Morris Barnes!" + +There was an instant's pause as Wrayson finished reading. Then there came +a long-drawn-out whisper from Sydney Barnes. He was close to the girl, +and his eyes were riveted upon the little packet. + +"Ten--thousand--pounds! Ah! Five thousand each! Give me the packet, +sister-in-law!" + +She stretched out her hand as though to obey. Wrayson checked her. + +"Remember," he said, "what your husband told you. You were to burn that +packet. He was right. Your husband was a blackmailer, Mrs. Barnes, and he +paid the penalty of his infamous career with his life. I shall not allow +either you or your brother-in-law to follow in his footsteps!" + +She flashed an indignant glance upon him. + +"Who are you calling names?" she demanded. "He was my husband and he was +good to me!" + +"I beg your pardon and his," Wrayson said. "I was wrong to use such a +word. But I want you to understand that to attempt to make money by the +contents of that packet is a crime! Your husband paid the penalty. He +knew what he was doing when he commanded you to burn it." + +She looked towards Sydney Barnes. + +"What do you say?" she asked. + +The words leaped from his mouth. He was half beside himself. + +"I say let us open the packet and look it through ourselves before we +decide. What the devil business is it of anybody else's. He was my +brother and your husband. These people weren't even his friends. They've +no right to poke their noses into our affairs. You tell them so; +sister-in-law. Give me the packet. Come away with me somewhere where we +can look it through quietly. I'm fair and straight. It shall be halves, I +swear. I say, sister-in-law Agnes, you don't want to go back to the +refreshment bar, do you?" + +"No!" she moaned. "No! no!" + +"Nor do I want to go back to the gutter," he declared fiercely. +"But money isn't to be had for the picking up. Ten thousand pounds +Morris expected to get for that packet. It's hard if we can't make +half of that." + +She looked up at Wrayson as though for advice. + +"Mrs. Barnes," he said gravely, "I can tell you what is in that packet. +You can see for yourself, then, whether it is anything by means of which +you can make money. It consists of the letters of a very famous woman to +the man whom she loved. They were stolen from him on the battlefield. I +do not wish to pain you, but the thief was Morris Barnes. The friends of +the lady who wrote them paid your brother two thousand pounds a year. Her +enemies offered him--ten thousand pounds down. There is the secret of +Morris Barnes' wealth." + +Sydney Barnes leaned over the back of her chair. His hot whisper seemed +to burn her cheek. + +"Keep the packet, sister-in-law. Don't part!" + +"Your brother-in-law," Wrayson remarked, "is evidently disposed to +continue your husband's operations. Remember you are not at liberty to +do as he asks. Your husband's words are plain. He orders you to burn +the packet." + +"How do I know that you are telling me the truth?" she asked abruptly. + +"Undo the packet," he suggested. "A glance inside should show you." + +For some reason or other she seemed dissatisfied. She pointed towards +the Baroness. + +"What is she doing here?" she asked. + +"She is a friend of the woman who wrote those letters," Wrayson answered. +"I want her to see them destroyed." + +There was silence for several moments. The girl's fingers closed upon the +packet. She turned round and faced them all. She faced them all, but she +addressed more particularly Wrayson. + +"You are wondering why I hesitate," she said slowly. "Augustus said +destroy the packet, and I suppose I ought to do it." + +"By God, you shan't!" Sydney Barnes broke in fiercely. "Morry didn't know +that I should be here to look after things." + +She waited until he had finished, but she seemed to take very little, if +any, notice of his intervention. + +"It isn't," she continued, "that I'm afraid to go back to the bar. I'll +have to go to work some where, I suppose, but it isn't that. I want to +know," she leaned a little forward,--"I want to know who it is that has +robbed me of my husband. I don't care what he was to other people! He was +very good to me, and I loved him. I should like to see the person who +killed him hanged!" + +Wrayson, for a moment, was discomposed. + +"But that," he said, "has nothing to do with obeying your husband's +directions about that packet." + +She looked at him with tired eyes and changeless expression. + +"Hasn't it?" she asked. "I am not so sure. You have explained about these +letters. It is quite certain that my husband was killed by either the +friends or the enemies of the woman who wrote these letters. I think that +if I take this packet to the police it will help them to find the +murderer!" + +Her new attitude was a perplexing one. Wrayson glanced at the Baroness +as though for counsel. She stepped forward and laid her hand upon the +girl's shoulder. + +"There is one thing which you must not forget, Mrs. Barnes," she said +quietly. "Your husband knew that he was running a great risk in keeping +these letters and making a living out of them. His letter to you shows +that he was perfectly aware of it. Of course, it is a very terrible, a +very inexcusable thing that he should have been killed. But he knew +perfectly well that he was in danger. Can't you sympathize a little with +the poor woman whose life he made so miserable? Let her have her letters +back. You will not find her ungrateful!" + +The girl turned slowly round and faced the Baroness. They might indeed +have represented the opposite poles in femininity. From the tips of her +perfectly manicured fingers to the crown of her admirably coiffured hair, +the Baroness stood for all that was elegant and refined in the innermost +circles of her sex. Agnes would have looked more in place behind the +refreshment bar from which Morris Barnes had brought her. Her dress of +cheap shiny silk was ill fitting and hopeless, her hat with its faded +flowers and crushed shape an atrocity, boots and gloves, and brooch of +artificial gems--all were shocking. Little was left of her pale-faced +prettiness. The tragedy which had stolen into her life had changed all +that. Yet she faced the Baroness without flinching. She seemed sustained +by the suppressed emotion of the moment. + +"He was my man," she said fiercely, "and no one had any right to take him +away from me. He was my husband, and he was brutally murdered. You tell +me that I must give up the letters for the sake of the woman who wrote +them! What do I care about her! Is she as unhappy as I am, I wonder? I +will not give up the letters," she added, clasping them in her hand, +"except--on one condition." + +"If it is a reasonable one," the Baroness said, smiling, "there will be +no difficulty." + +Agnes faced her a little defiantly. + +"It depends upon what you call reasonable," she said. "Find out for me +who it was that killed my husband, you or any one of you, and you shall +have the letters." + +Sydney Barnes smiled, and left off nervously tugging at his moustache. If +this was not exactly according to his own ideas, it was, at any rate, a +step in the right direction. Wrayson was evidently perplexed. The +Baroness adopted a persuasive attitude. + +"My dear girl," she said, "we don't any of us know who killed your +husband. After all, what does it matter? It is terribly sad, of course, +but he can't be brought back to life again. You have yourself to think +of, and how you are to live in the future. Give me that packet, I will +destroy it before your eyes, and I promise you that you shall have no +more anxiety about your future." + +The girl rose to her feet. The packet was already transferred to the +bosom of her dress. + +"I have told you my terms," she said. "Some of you know all about +it, I dare say! Tell me the truth and you shall have the packet, any +one of you." + +Wrayson leaned forward. + +"The truth is simple," he said earnestly. "We do not know. I can answer +for myself. I think that I can answer for the others." + +"Then the packet shall help me to find out," she declared. + +The Baroness shook her head. + +"It will not do, my dear girl," she said quietly. "The packet is +not yours." + +The girl faced her defiantly. + +"Who says that it is not mine?" she demanded. + +"I do," the Baroness replied. + +"And I!" Wrayson echoed. + +"And I say that it is hers--hers and mine," Sydney Barnes declared. "She +shall do what she likes with it. She shall not be made to give it up." + +"Mrs. Barnes," the Baroness declared briskly, "you must try to be +reasonable. We will buy the packet from you." + +Sydney Barnes nodded his head approvingly. + +"That," he said, "is what I call talking common sense." + +"We will give you a thousand pounds for it," the Baroness continued. + +"It's not enough, not near enough," Barnes called out hastily. "Don't you +listen to them, Agnes." + +"I shall not," she answered. "Ten thousand pounds would not buy it. I +have said my last word. I am going now. In three days' time I shall +return. I will give up the letters then in exchange for the name of my +husband's murderer. If I do not get that, I shall go to the police!" + +She rose and walked out of the room. They all followed her. The Baroness +whispered in Wrayson's ear, but he shook his head. + +"It is impossible," he said firmly. "We cannot take them from her +by force." + +The Baroness shrugged her shoulders. She caught the girl up upon the +stairs and they descended together. Wrayson and Sydney Barnes followed, +the latter biting his nails nervously and maintaining a gloomy silence. +At the entrance, Wrayson whistled for a cab and handed Agnes in. Sydney +Barnes attempted to follow her. + +"I will see my sister-in-law home," he declared; but Wrayson's hand fell +upon his arm. + +"No!" he said. "Mrs. Barnes can take care of herself. She is not to be +interfered with." + +She nodded back at him from the cab. + +"I don't want him," she said. "I don't want any one. In three days' time +I will return." + +"And until then you will not part with the letters?" Wrayson said. + +"Until then," she answered, "I promise." + +The cab drove off. Sydney Barnes turned upon Wrayson, white and venomous. + +"Where do I come in here?" he demanded fiercely. + +"I sincerely trust," Wrayson answered suavely, "that you are not coming +in at all. But you, too, can return in three days." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +INEFFECTUAL WOOING + + +"At last!" Wrayson said to himself, almost under his breath. "Shall we +have a hansom, Louise, or do you care for a walk?" + +"A walk, by all means," she answered hurriedly. + +"It is not far, is it?" + +"A mile--a little more perhaps," he answered. + +"You are sure that you are not tired?" + +"Tired only of sitting still," she answered. "We had a delightful +crossing. This way, isn't it?" + +They left the Grosvenor Hotel, where Louise, with Madame de Melbain, had +arrived about an hour ago, and turned towards Battersea. Louise began to +talk, nervously, and with a very obvious desire to keep the conversation +to indifferent subjects. Wrayson humoured her for some time. They spoke +of the journey, suddenly determined upon by Madame de Melbain on receipt +of his telegram, of the beauty of St. Étarpe, of the wonderful +reappearance of her brother. + +"I can scarcely realize even now," she said, "that he is really alive. He +is so altered. He seems a different person altogether." + +"He has gone through a good deal," Wrayson remarked. + +She sighed. + +"Poor Duncan!" she murmured. + +"He is very much to be pitied," Wrayson said seriously. "I, at any rate, +can feel for him." + +He turned towards her as he spoke, and his words were charged with +meaning. She began quickly to speak of something else, but he +interrupted her. + +"Louise," he said, "is London so far from St. Étarpe?" + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +"I think that you know very well," he answered. "I am sure that you do. +At St. Étarpe you were content to accept what, believe me, is quite +inevitable. Here--well, you have been doing all you can to avoid me, +haven't you?" + +"Perhaps," she admitted. "St. Étarpe was an interlude. I told you so. You +ought to have understood that." + +They entered the Park, and Wrayson was silent for a few minutes. He led +the way towards an empty seat. + +"Let us sit down," he said, "and talk this out." + +She hesitated. + +"I think--" she began, but he interrupted her ruthlessly. + +"If you prefer it, I will come to the Baroness with you," he declared. + +She shrugged her shoulders and sat down. + +"Very well," she said, "but I warn you that I am in a bad temper. I am +hot and tired and dusty. We shall probably quarrel." + +He looked at her critically. She was a little pale, perhaps, but there +was nothing else to indicate that she had just arrived from a journey. +Her dress of dull black glace silk was cool and spotless, her hat and +veil were immaculate. Always she had the air of having just come from the +hands of an experienced maid. From the tips of her patent shoes to the +fall of her veil, she was orderly and correct. + +"It takes two," he said, "to quarrel. I shall not quarrel with you. All +that I ask from you is a realization of the fact that we are engaged to +be married." + +She withdrew the hand which he had calmly possessed himself of. + +"We are nothing of the sort," she declared. + +He looked puzzled. + +"Perhaps," he remarked, "I forgot to mention the matter last time I saw +you, but I quite thought that you would take it for granted. In case I +was forgetful, please let me impress the fact upon you now. We are going +to be married, and very shortly. In fact, the sooner the better." + +Of her own free will she laid her hand upon his. He fancied that behind +her veil the tears had gathered in her eyes. + +"Dear friend," she said softly, "I cannot marry you! I shall never +marry any one. Will you please believe that? It will make it so much +easier for me." + +He was a little taken aback. She had changed her methods suddenly, and he +had had no time to adapt himself to them. + +"Don't hate me, please," she murmured. "Indeed, it would make me very +happy if we could be friends." + +He laughed a little unnaturally, and turned in his seat until he was +facing her. + +"Would you mind lifting your veil for a moment, Louise?" he asked her. + +She obeyed him with fingers which trembled a little. He saw then that the +tears had indeed been in her eyes. Her lips quivered. She looked at him +sadly, but very wistfully. + +"Thank you!" he said. "Now would you mind asking yourself whether +friendship between us is possible! Remember St. Étarpe, and ask yourself +that! Remember our seat amongst the roses--remember what you will of that +long golden day." + +She covered her face with her hands. + +"Ah, no!" he went on. "You know yourself that only one thing is possible. +I cannot force you into my arms, Louise. If you care to take up my life +and break it in two, you can do it. But think what it means! I am not +rich, but I am rich enough to take you where you will, to live with you +in any country you desire. I don't know what your scruples are--I shall +never ask you again. But, dear, you must not! You must not send me away." + +She was silent. She had dropped her veil and her head had sunk a little. + +"If I believed that there was anybody else," he continued, "I would go +away and leave you alone. If I doubted for a single moment that I could +make you happy, I would not trouble you any more. But you belong to me, +Louise! You have taken up your place in my life, in my heart! I cannot +live without you! I do not think that you can live without me! You +mustn't try, dear! You mustn't!" + +He held her unresisting hand, but her face was hidden from him. + +"What it is that you fancy comes between us I cannot tell," he continued, +more gravely. "Only let me tell you this. We are no longer in any danger +from Stephen Heneage. He has abandoned his quest altogether. He has told +me so with his own lips." + +"You are sure of that?" she asked softly. + +"Absolutely," he answered. + +She hesitated for a moment. He remained purposely silent. He was anxious +to try and comprehend the drift of her thoughts. + +"Do you know why?" she asked. "Did he find the task too difficult, or did +he relinquish it from any other motive?" + +"I am not sure," Wrayson answered. "I met him the night before last. He +was very much altered. He had the appearance of a man altogether +unnerved. Perhaps it was my fancy, but I got the idea--" + +"Well?" she demanded eagerly. + +"That he had come across something in the course of his investigations +which had given him a shock," he said. "He seemed all broken up. Of +course, it may have been something else altogether. At any rate, I have +his word for it. He has ceased his investigations altogether, and broken +with Sydney Barnes." + +The afternoon was warm, but she shivered as she rose a little abruptly to +her feet. He laid his hand upon her arm. + +"Not without my answer," he begged. + +She shook her head sadly. + +"My very dear friend," she said sadly, "you must always be. That is all!" + +He took his place by her side. + +"Your very dear friend," he repeated. "Well, it is a relationship I don't +know much about. I haven't had many friendships amongst your sex. Tell me +exactly what my privileges would be." + +"You will learn that," she said, "in time." + +He shook his head. + +"I think not," he declared. "Friendship, to be frank with you, would not +satisfy me in the least." + +"Then I must lose you altogether," she murmured, in a low tone. + +"I don't think so," he affirmed coolly. "I consider that you belong to me +already. You are only postponing the time when I shall claim you." + +She made no remark, and behind her veil her face told him little. A +moment later they issued from the Park and stood on the pavement before +the Baroness' flat. She held out her hand without a word. + +"I think," he said, "that I should like to come in and see the Baroness." + +"Not now," she begged. "We shall meet again at dinner-time." + +"Where?" he asked eagerly. + +"Madame desired me to ask you to join us at the Grosvenor," she answered, +"at half-past eight." + +"I shall be delighted," he answered, promptly. "You nearly forgot +to tell me." + +She shook her head. + +"No! I didn't," she said. "I should not have let you go away without +giving you her message." + +"And you will let me bring you home afterwards?" + +"We shall be delighted," she answered. "I shall be with Amy, of course." + +He smiled as he raised his hat and let her pass in. + +"The Baroness," he said, "is always kind." + +He stood for a moment on the pavement. Then he glanced at his watch and +hailed a cab. + +"The Sheridan Club," he told the man. He had decided to appeal to +the Colonel. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +THE COLONEL'S MISSION + + +Wrayson was greeted enthusiastically, as he entered the club +billiard-room, by a little circle of friends, unbroken except for the +absence of Stephen Heneage. The Colonel came across and laid his hand +affectionately on his arm. + +"How goes it, Herbert?" he asked. "The seabreezes haven't tanned +you much." + +"I'm all right," Wrayson declared. "Had a capital time." + +"You'll dine here to-night, Herbert?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I meant to," he declared, "but another engagement's turned up. No! I +don't want to play pool, Mason. Can't stop. Colonel, do me a favour." + +The Colonel, who was always ready to do any one a favour, signified his +willingness promptly enough. But even then Wrayson hesitated. + +"I want to talk to you for a few minutes," he said, "without all these +fellows round. Should you mind coming down into the smoking-room?" + +The Colonel rose promptly from his seat. + +"Not a bit in the world," he declared. "We'll go into the +smoking-room. Scarcely a soul there. Much cooler, too. Bring your +drink. See you boys later." + +They found two easy-chairs in the smoking-room, of which they were the +sole occupants. The Colonel cut off the end of his cigar and made +himself comfortable. + +"Now, my young friend," he said, "proceed." + +Wrayson did not beat about the bush. + +"It's about your daughter Louise, Colonel," he said. "She won't +marry me!" + +The Colonel pinched his cigar reflectively. + +"She always was a most peculiar girl," he affirmed. "Does she give +any reasons?" + +"That's just what she won't do," Wrayson explained. "That's just why I've +come to you. I--I--Colonel, I'm fond of her. I never expected to feel +like it about any woman." + +The Colonel nodded sympathetically. + +"And although it may sound conceited to say so," Wrayson continued, "I +believe--no! I'm sure that she's fond of me. She's admitted it. There!" + +The Colonel smiled understandingly. + +"Well." he said, "then where's the trouble? You don't want my consent. +You know that." + +"Louise won't marry me," Wrayson repeated. "That's the trouble. She won't +explain her attitude. She simply declares that marriage for her is an +impossibility." + +The Colonel sighed. + +"I'm afraid," he murmured, regretfully, "that my daughter is a fool." + +"She is anything but that," Wrayson declared. "She has some scruple. What +it is I can't imagine. Of course, at first I thought it was because we +were, both of us, involved in that Morris Barnes affair. But I know now +that it isn't that. Heneage, who threatened me, and indirectly her, has +chucked the whole business. Such danger as there was is over. I--" + +"Interrupting you for one moment," the Colonel said quietly, "what has +become of Heneage?" + +"He's in a very queer way," Wrayson answered. "You know he started on hot +to solve this Morris Barnes business. He warned us both to get out of the +country. Well, I saw him last night, and he was a perfect wreck. He +looked like a man just recovering from a bout of dissipation, or +something of the sort." + +"Did you speak to him?" the Colonel asked. + +"I was with him some time," Wrayson answered. "His manner was just as +changed as his appearance." + +The Colonel was looking, for him, quite grave. His cigar had gone out, +and he forgot to relight it. + +"Dear me," he said, "I am sorry to hear this. Did he allude to the Morris +Barnes affair at all?" + +"He did," Wrayson answered. "He gave me to understand, in fact, that he +had discovered a little more than he wanted to." + +The Colonel stretched out his hand for a match, and relit his cigar. + +"You believe, then," he said, "that Heneage has succeeded in solving the +mystery of Barnes' murder, and is keeping the knowledge to himself?" + +"That was the conclusion I came to," Wrayson admitted. + +The Colonel smoked for a moment or two in thoughtful silence. + +"Well," he said, "it isn't like Heneage. I always looked upon him as a +man without nerves, a man who would carry through any purpose he set +himself to, without going to pieces about it. Shows how difficult it is +to understand the most obvious of us." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"But after all," he said, "it wasn't to talk about Heneage that I +brought you down here. What I want to know, Colonel, is if you can help +me at all with Louise." + +The Colonel's forehead was furrowed with perplexity. + +"My dear Herbert," he declared, "there is no man in the world I would +sooner have for a son-in-law. But what can I do? Louise wouldn't listen +to me in any case. I haven't any authority or any influence over her. I +say it to my sorrow, but it's the truth. If it were my little girl down +at home, now, it would be a different matter. But Louise has taken her +life into her own hands. She has not spoken to me for years. She +certainly would not listen to my advice." + +"Then if you cannot help me directly, Colonel," Wrayson continued, "can +you help me indirectly? I have asked you a question something like this +before, but I want to repeat it. I have told you that Louise refuses to +marry me. She has something on her mind, some scruple, some fear. Can you +form any idea as to what it may be?" + +The Colonel was silent for an unusually long time. He was leaning back in +his chair, looking up through the cloud of blue tobacco smoke to the +ceiling. In reflection his features seemed to have assumed a graver and +somewhat weary expression. + +"Yes!" he said at last, "I think that I can." + +Wrayson felt his heart jump. His eyes were brighter. An influx of new +life seemed to have come to him. He leaned forward eagerly. + +"You will tell me what it is, Colonel?" he begged. + +The Colonel looked at him with a queer little smile. + +"I am not sure that I can do that, Herbert," he said. "I am not sure +that it would help you if I did. And you are asking me rather more than +you know." + +Wrayson felt a little chill of discouragement. + +"Colonel," he said, "I am in your hands. But I love your daughter, and I +swear that I would make her happy." + +The Colonel looked at his watch. + +"Do you know where Louise is?" he asked quietly. + +"Number 17, Frederic Mansions, Battersea," Wrayson answered. + +The Colonel rose to his feet. + +"I will go down and see her," he said simply. "You had better wait here +for me. I will come straight back." + +"Colonel, you're a brick," Wrayson declared, walking with him +towards the door. + +"I'll do my best, Herbert," he answered quietly, "but I can't promise. I +can't promise anything." + +Wrayson watched him leave the club and step into a hansom. He walked a +little more slowly than usual, his head was a little bent, and he passed +a club acquaintance in the hall without his customary greeting. Wrayson +retraced his steps and ascended towards the billiard-room, with his first +enthusiasm a little damped. Was his errand, he wondered, so grievously +distasteful to his old friend, or was the Colonel losing at last the +magnificent elasticity and vigour which had kept him so long independent +of the years? + +There were others besides Wrayson who noticed a certain alteration in the +Colonel when he re-entered the billiard-room an hour or so later. His +usual greeting was unspoken, he sank a little heavily into a chair, and +he called for a drink without waiting for some one to share it with him. +They gathered round him sympathetically. + +"Feeling the heat a bit, Colonel?" + +"Anything wrong downstairs?" + +The Colonel recovered himself promptly. He beamed upon them all +affectionately, and set down an empty tumbler with a little sigh of +satisfaction. + +"I'm all right, boys," he declared. "I couldn't find a cab--had to walk +further than I meant, and I wanted a drink badly. Wrayson, come over +here. I want to talk to you." + +Wrayson sat down by his side. + +"I've done the best I could," the Colonel said. "Things may not come all +right for you quite at once, but within a week I fancy it'll be all +squared up. I've found out why she refused to marry you, and you can take +my word for it that within a week the cause will be removed." + +"You're a brick, Colonel," Wrayson declared heartily. "There's only one +thing more I'd love to have you to tell me." + +"I'm afraid--" the Colonel began. + +"That you and Louise were reconciled," Wrayson declared. "Colonel, there +can't be anything between you two, of all the people in the world, there +can't be anything sufficient to keep you and her, father and daughter, +completely apart." + +"You are quite right, Wrayson," the Colonel assented, a little more +cheerfully. "Well, you may find that all will come right very soon now. +By the by, I've been talking to the Baroness. I want you to let me be at +your rooms to-morrow night." + +Wrayson hesitated for a moment. + +"You know how we stand?" he asked. + +"Exactly," the Colonel answered. "I only wish that I had known before. +You will have no objection to my coming, I suppose?" + +"None at all," Wrayson declared. "But, Colonel! there is one more +question that I must ask you. Did Louise speak to you about her brother?" + +The Colonel nodded. + +"She blamed me, of course," he said slowly, "because I had never told +her. It was his own desire, and I think that he was right. I have +telegraphed for him to come over. He will be here to-night or to-morrow." + +Wrayson left the club, feeling almost light-hearted. It was the old story +over again--the Colonel to the rescue! + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +BLACKMAIL + + +Sydney Barnes staggered into his apartment with a little exclamation +of relief which was almost a groan. He slammed the door and sank into +an easy-chair. With both his hands he was grasping it so that his +fingers were hot and wet with perspiration. At last he had obtained +his soul's desire! + +He sat there for several minutes without moving. The blinds were close +drawn and the room was in darkness. Gradually he began to be afraid. He +rose, and with trembling fingers struck a match. On the corner of the +table--fortunately he knew exactly where to find it--was a candle. He lit +it, and holding it over his head, peered fearfully around. Convinced at +last that he was alone, he set it down again, wiped the perspiration from +his forehead, and opening a cupboard in the chiffonnier, produced a +bottle and a glass. + +He poured out some spirits and drank it. Then, after rummaging for +several moments in his coat pocket, he produced several crumpled +cigarettes of a cheap variety. One of these he proceeded to smoke, +whilst, with trembling fingers, he undid the packet which he had been +carrying, and began a painstaking study of its contents. A delicate +perfume stole out into the room from those closely pressed sheets, so +eagerly clutched in his yellow-stained fingers. A little bunch of crushed +violets slipped to the floor unheeded. Ghoul-like he bent over the pages +of delicate writing, the intimate, passionate cry of a soul seeking for +its mate. They were no ordinary love-letters. Mostly they were beyond the +comprehension of the creature who spelt them out word for word, seeking +all the time to appraise their exact monetary value to himself. But for +what he had heard he would have found them disappointing. As it was, he +gloated over them. Two thousand pounds a year his clever brother had +earned by merely possessing them! He looked at them almost reverently. +Then he suddenly remembered what else his brother had earned by their +possession, and he shivered. A moment later the electric bell outside +pealed, and there came a soft knocking at the door. + +A little cry--half stifled--broke from his lips. With numbed and +trembling fingers he began tying up the letters. The perspiration had +broken out upon his forehead. Some one to see him! Who could it be? He +was quite determined not to go to the door. He would let no one in. Again +the bell! Soon they would get tired of ringing and go away. He was quite +safe so long as he remained quiet. Quite safe, he told himself +feverishly. Then his pulses seemed to stop beating. There was a rush of +blood to his head. He clutched at the sides of his chair, but to rise was +a sheer impossibility. + +The thing which was terrifying him was a small thing in itself--the +turning of a latch-key in the door. Before him on the table was his +own--he knew of no other. Yet some one was opening, had opened his front +door! He sprang to his feet at last with something which was almost a +shriek. The door of the room in which he was, was slowly being pushed +open. By the dim candlelight he could distinguish the figure of his +visitor standing upon the threshold and peering into the room. + +His impulse was, without doubt, one of relief. The figure was the figure +of a complete stranger. Nor was there anything the least threatening +about his appearance. He saw a tall, white-haired gentleman, carefully +dressed with military exactitude, regarding him with a benevolent and +apologetic smile. + +"I really must apologize," he said, "for such an unceremonious entrance. +I felt sure that you were in, but I am a trifle deaf, and I could not be +sure whether or not the bell was ringing. So I ventured to use my own +latch-key, with, as you are doubtless observing, complete success." + +"Who are you, and what do you want?" Barnes asked, finding his +voice at last. + +"My name is Colonel Fitzmaurice," was the courteous reply. "You will +allow me to sit down? I have the pleasure of conversing, I believe, with +Mr. Sydney Barnes?" + +"That's my name," Barnes answered. "What do you want with me?" + +Despite his visitor's urbanity, he was still a little nervous. The +Colonel had a somewhat purposeful air, and he had seated himself directly +in front of the door. + +"I want," the Colonel said calmly, "that packet which you have just +stolen from Mrs. Morris Barnes, and which you have in your pocket there!" + +Barnes rose at once, trembling, to his feet. His bead-like eyes were +bright and venomous. He was terrified, but he had the courage of despair. + +"I have stolen nothing," he declared, "I don't know what you're talking +about. I won't listen to you. You have no right to force your way into my +flat. Colonel or no colonel, I won't have it. I'll send for the police." + +The Colonel smiled. + +"No," he said, "don't do that. Besides, I know what I'm talking about. I +mean the packet which I think I can see sticking out of your coat pocket. +You have just stolen that from Mrs. Barnes' tin trunk, you know." + +"I have stolen nothing," the young man declared, "nothing at all. I am +not a thief. I am not afraid of the police." + +The Colonel smiled tolerantly. + +"That is good," he said. "I hate cowards. But I am going to make you very +much afraid of me--unless you are wise and give me that packet." + +Barnes breathed thickly for a moment. Coward he knew that he was to the +marrow of his bones, but other of the evil passions were stirring in him +then. His narrow eyes were alight with greed. He had the animal courage +of vermin hard pressed. + +"The packet is mine," he said fiercely. "It's nothing to do with you. Get +out of my room." + +He rose to his feet. The Colonel awaited him with equable countenance. He +made, however, no advance. + +"Young man," the Colonel said quietly, "do you know what happened to +your brother?" + +Sydney Barnes stood still and shivered. He could say nothing. His tongue +seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth. + +"Your brother was another of your breed," the Colonel continued. "A +blackmailer! A low-living, evil-minded brute. Do you know how he came by +those letters?" + +"I don't know and I don't care," Barnes answered with a weak attempt at +bluster. "They're mine now, and I'm going to stick to them." + +The Colonel shook his head. + +"He broke his trust to a dying man," he said softly,--"to a man who lay +on the veldt at Colenso with three great wounds in his body, and his +life's blood staining the ground. He had carried those letters into +action with him, because they were precious to him. His last thought was +that they should be destroyed. Your brother swore to do this. He broke +his word. He turned blackmailer." + +"You're very fond of that word," Barnes muttered. "How do you know so +much?" + +"The soldier was my son," the Colonel answered, "and he did not die. You +see I have a right to those letters. Will you give them to me?" + +Give them up! Give up all his hopes of affluence, his dreams of an easy +life, of the cheap luxuries and riches which formed the Heaven of his +desire! No! He was not coward enough for that. He did not believe that +this mild-looking old gentleman would use force. Besides, he could not be +very strong. He ought to be able to push him over and escape! + +"No!" he answered bluntly, "I won't!" + +The Colonel looked thoughtful. + +"It is a pity," he said quietly. "I am sorry to hear you say that. Your +brother, when I asked him, made the same reply." + +Barnes felt himself suddenly grow hot and then cold. The perspiration +stood out upon his forehead. + +"I called upon your brother a few days before his death," the Colonel +continued calmly. "I explained my claim to the letters and I asked him +for them. He too refused! Do you remember, by the by, what happened to +your brother?" + +Sydney Barnes did not answer, but his cheeks were like chalk. His mouth +was a little open, disclosing his yellow teeth. He stared at the Colonel +with frightened, fascinated eyes. + +"I can see," the Colonel continued, "that you remember. Young man," he +added, with a curious alteration in his tone, "be wiser than your +brother! Give me the packet." + +"You killed him," the young man gasped. "It was you who killed Morris." + +The Colonel nodded gravely. + +"He had his chance," he said, "even as you have it." + +There was a dead silence. The Colonel was waiting. Sydney Barnes was +breathing hard. He was alone, then, with a murderer. He tried to speak, +but found a difficulty in using his voice. It was a situation which might +have abashed a bolder ruffian. + +The Colonel rose to his feet. + +"I am sorry to hurry you," he said, "but we are already late for our +appointment with Wrayson and his friends." + +Sydney Barnes snatched up the packet and retreated behind the table. The +Colonel leaned forward and blew out the candle. + +"I can see better in the dark," he remarked calmly. "You are a very +foolish young man!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE COLONEL SPEAKS + + +Wrayson glanced at the clock for the twentieth time. + +"I am afraid," he said gravely, "that Mr. Sydney Barnes has been one too +many for us." + +"Do you think," Louise asked, "that he has persuaded the girl to give him +the packet?" + +"It looks like it," Wrayson confessed. + +Louise frowned. + +"Of course," she said, "I think that you were mad to let her go before. +She had the letters here in the room. You would have been perfectly +justified in taking them from her." + +"I suppose so," Wrayson assented, doubtfully. "Somehow she seemed to get +the upper hand of us towards the end. I think she suspected that some of +us knew more than we cared to tell her about--her husband's death." + +Louise shivered a little and remained silent. Wrayson walked to the +window and back. + +"To tell you the truth," he said, "I expected some one else here +to-night who has failed to turn up." + +"Who is that?" the Baroness asked. + +Wrayson hesitated for a moment and glanced towards Louise. + +"Colonel Fitzmaurice," he said. + +Louise seemed to turn suddenly rigid. She looked at him steadfastly for a +moment without speaking. + +"My father," she murmured at last. + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Yes!" he said. + +"But--what has he to do with this?" Louise asked, with her eyes fixed +anxiously, almost fearfully, upon his. + +"I went to him for advice," Wrayson said quietly. "He has been always +very kind, and I thought it possible that he might be able to help us. He +promised to be here at the same hour as the others. Listen! There is the +bell at last." + +The Colonel entered the room. Louise half rose to her feet. Wrayson +hastened to meet him. + +"Herbert," he said, with an affectionate smile, "forgive me for being a +little late. Baroness, I am delighted to see you--and Louise." + +The Baroness held out both her hands, which the Colonel raised gallantly +to his lips. Louise he greeted with a fatherly and unembarrassed smile. + +"I must apologize to all of you," he said, "but perhaps this will be my +best excuse." + +He took the packet from his breast pocket and handed it over to the +Baroness. The room seemed filled with exclamations. The Colonel beamed +upon them all. + +"Quite simple," he declared. "I have just taken them from Mr. Sydney +Barnes upstairs. He, in his turn, took them from--" + +The door was suddenly opened. Mrs. Morris Barnes rushed into the room and +gazed wildly around. + +"Where is he?" she exclaimed. "He has robbed me. The little beast! He got +into my rooms while I was out." + +The Colonel led her gallantly to a chair. + +"Calm yourself, my dear young lady," he said. + +"Where is he?" she cried. "Has he been here?" + +The Colonel shook his head. + +"He is in his room upstairs, but," he said, "I should not advise you to +go to him." + +"He has my packet--Augustus' packet," she cried, springing up. + +The Colonel laid his hand upon her arm. + +"No!" he said, "that packet has been restored to its rightful owner." + +She rose to her feet, trembling with anger. The Colonel motioned her to +resume her seat. + +"Come," he said, "so far as you are concerned, you have nothing to +complain of. You offered, I believe, to give it up yourself on one +condition." + +She looked at him with sudden eagerness. + +"Well?" she cried, impatiently. + +"That condition," he said, "shall be complied with." + +She looked into his face with strange intentness. + +"You mean," she said slowly, "that I shall know who it was that killed +my husband?" + +"Yes!" the Colonel answered. + +A sudden cry rang through the room. Louise was on her feet. She came +staggering towards them, her hands outstretched. + +"No!" she screamed, "no! Father, you are mad! Send the woman away!" + +He smiled at her deprecatingly. + +"My dear Louise!" he exclaimed, "our word has been passed to this young +woman. Besides," he added, "circumstances which have occurred within the +last hour with our young friend upstairs would probably render an +explanation imperative! I am sorry for your sake, my dear young lady," he +continued, turning to Mrs. Barnes, "to have to tell you this, but if you +insist upon knowing, it was I who killed your husband." + +Louise fell back into her chair and covered her face with her hands. The +Baroness looked shocked but not surprised. Wrayson, dumb and unnerved, +had staggered back, and was leaning against the table. Mrs. Barnes had +already taken a step towards the door. She was very pale, but her eyes +were ablaze. Incredulity struggled with her passionate desire for +vengeance. + +"You!" she exclaimed. "What should you want to kill him for?" + +The Colonel sighed regretfully. + +"My dear young lady," he said, "it is very painful for me to have to be +so explicit, but the situation demands it. I killed him because he was +unfit to live--because he was a blackmailer of women, an unclean liver, +a foul thing upon the face of the earth." + +"It's a damned lie!" the girl hissed. "He was good to me, and you shall +swing for it!" + +The Colonel looked genuinely distressed. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that you are prejudiced. If he was, as you say, +kind to you, it was for his own pleasure. Believe me, I made a careful +study of his character before I decided that he must go." + +She looked at him with fierce curiosity. + +"Are you a god," she demanded, "that you should have power of life or +death? Who are you to set yourself up as a judge?" + +"Pray do not believe," he begged, "that I arrogate to myself any such +position. Only, unfortunately, as regards your late husband's character +there could be no mistake, and concerning such men as he I have very +strong convictions." + +Wrayson, who had recovered himself a little, laid his hand upon the +Colonel's shoulder. + +"Colonel," he said hoarsely, "you're not serious! You can't be! Be +careful. This woman means mischief. She will take you at your word." + +"How else should she take me?" the Colonel asked calmly. "I suppose her +prejudice in favour of this man was natural, but all I can say is that, +under similar circumstances, I should act to-day precisely as I did on +the night when I found him about to sell a woman's honour, for money to +minister to the degraded pleasures of his life." + +The woman leaned towards him, venomous and passionate. + +"You're a nice one to preach, you are," she cried hysterically, "you, +with a man's blood upon your hands! You, a murderer! Degraded indeed! +What were his poor sins compared with yours?" + +The Colonel shook his head sadly. + +"I am afraid, my dear young lady," he said, "that I should never be able +to convert you to my point of view. You are naturally prejudiced, and +when I consider that I have failed to convince my own daughter"--he +glanced towards Louise--"of the soundness of my views, it goes without +saying that I should find you also unsympathetic. You are anxious, I see, +to leave us. Permit me!" + +He held open the door for her with grave courtesy, but Wrayson pushed him +aside. He had recovered himself to some extent, but he still felt as +though he were moving in some horrible dream. + +"Colonel!" he exclaimed hoarsely, "you know what this means! You know +where she will go!" + +[Illustration: "'TO THE NEAREST POLICE STATION! THAT'S WHERE I'M OFF.'"] + +"If he don't, let me tell him," she interrupted. "To the nearest police +station! That's where I'm off." + +Wrayson glanced quickly at the Colonel, who seemed in no way discomposed. + +"Naturally," he assented. "No one, my dear young lady, will interfere +with you in your desire to carry out your painfully imperfect sense of +justice. Pray pass out!" + +She hesitated for a moment. Her poor little brain was struggling, +perhaps, for the last time, to adapt itself to his point of view--to +understand why, at a moment so critical, he should treat her with the +easy composure and tolerant good-nature of one who gives to a spoilt +child its own way. Then she saw signs of further interference on +Wrayson's part, and she delayed no longer. + +The Colonel closed the door after her, and stood for a moment with his +back against it, for Wrayson had shown signs of a desire to follow the +woman whose egress he had just permitted. He looked into their faces, +white with horror--full of dread of what was to come, and he smiled +reassuringly. + +"Amy," he said, turning to the Baroness, "surely you and Wrayson here are +possessed of some grains of common sense. Louise, I know, is too easily +swayed by sentiment. But you, Wrayson! Surely I can rely on you!" + +"For anything," Wrayson answered, with trembling lips. "But what can I +do? What is there to be done?" + +The Colonel smiled gently. + +"Simply to listen intelligently--sympathetically if you can," he +declared. "I want to make my position clear to you if I can. You heard +what that poor young woman called me? Probably you would have used the +same word yourself. A murderer!" + +"Yes!" Wrayson muttered. "I heard!" + +"When I came back from the Soudan twelve years ago, I had been +instrumental in killing some thousands of brave men, I dare say I had +killed a score or so with my own hand. Was I a murderer then?" + +"No!" Wrayson answered. "It was a different thing." + +"Then killing is not necessarily murder," the Colonel remarked. "Good! +Now take the case of a man like Morris Barnes. He belonged to the class +of humanity which you can call by no other name than that of vermin. +Whatever he touched he defiled. He was without a single good instinct, a +single passable quality. Wherever he lived, he bred contamination. +Whoever touched him was the worse for it. His influence upon the world +was an unchanging one for evil. Put aside sentiment for one moment, false +sentiment I should say, and ask yourself what possible sin can there be +in taking the life of such a one. If he had gone on four legs instead of +two, his breed would have been exterminated centuries ago." + +"We are not the judges," Wrayson began, weakly enough. + +"We are, sir," the Colonel thundered. "For what else have we been given +brains, the moral sense, the knowledge of good or evil? There are those +amongst us who become decadents, whose presence amongst us breeds +corruption, whose dirty little lives are like the trail of a foul insect +across the page of life. I hold it a just and moral thing to rid the +world of such a creature. The sanctity of human life is the canting cry +of the falsely sentimental. Human life is sacred or not, according to +its achievements. Such a one as Morris Barnes I would brush away like a +poisonous fly." + +"Bentham!" Wrayson faltered. + +"I killed him, sir!" the Colonel answered, "and others of his kidney +before him. Louise knew it. I argued with her as I am doing with you, but +it was useless. Nevertheless, I have lived as seemed good to me." + +"There is the law," Wrayson said, with a horrified glance towards Louise. +He understood now. + +The Colonel bowed his head. + +"I am prepared," the Colonel answered, "to pay the penalty of all +reformers." + +There was a ring at the bell. Wrayson threw open the door. A small boy +stood there. He held a piece of paper in his hand. + +"The lidy said," he declared, "that the white-headed gentleman would give +me 'arf a crown for this 'ere!" + +Wrayson gave him the money, and stepped back into the room. He gave +the paper to the Colonel, who read it calmly, first to himself and +then aloud. + + * * * * * + +"I leave you to your conshens. He may have been bad, but he was +good to me! + +"AGNES B." + + * * * * * + +The Colonel's eyes grew very soft. + +"Poor little woman," he said to himself. "Wrayson, you'll look after her. +You'll see she doesn't come to grief!" + +There was the sound of a heavy fall in the room above. The Colonel's face +assumed an air of intense irritation. + +"It's that infernal window pole," he declared. "I had doubts about it all +the time." + +Wrayson looked at him in horror. + +"What do you mean?" he demanded. + +"Perhaps you had better go up and see," the Colonel answered, taking up +his hat. "A very commonplace tragedy after all! I don't quite see what +else he could have done. He was penniless, half mad with disappointment; +he'd been smoking too many cigarettes and drinking too much cheap liquor, +and he was in danger of arrest for selling the landlord's furniture. No +other end for him, I am afraid." + +Wrayson threw open the door. + +"Don't hurry," the Colonel declared. "You'll probably find that he has +hanged himself, but he must have been dead for some time." + +Wrayson tore up the stairs. The Colonel watched him for a moment. Then, +with a little sigh, he began to descend. + +"False sentiment," he murmured to himself sadly. "The world's full of +it." + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +LOVE REMAINS + + +Wrayson rode slowly up the great avenue, and paused at the bend to see +for the first time at close quarters the house, which from the valley +below had seemed little more than a speck of white set in a deep bower of +green. Seen at close quarters its size amazed him. With its cluster of +outbuildings, it occupied nearly the whole of the plateau, which was like +a jutting tableland out from the side of the mountain. It was of two +stories only, and encircled with a great veranda supported by embowered +pillars. Free at last from the densely growing trees, Wrayson, for the +first time during his long climb, caught an uninterrupted view of the +magnificent panorama below. A land of hills, of black forests and shining +rivers; a land uncultivated but rich in promise, magnificent in its +primitivism. It was a wonderful dwelling this, of which the owner, +springing down from the veranda, was now on his way to meet his guest. + +The two men shook hands with unaffected heartiness. Duncan Fitzmaurice, +in his white linen riding clothes, seemed taller than ever, a little +gaunt and thin, too, from a recent attack of fever. There was no doubt +about the pleasure with which he received his guest. + +"Where is Louise?" he asked, looking behind down the valley. + +"Coming up in the wagons," Wrayson answered. "She has been riding all +day and was tired." + +A Kaffir boy came out with a tray and glasses. Wrayson helped himself to +a whisky and soda, and lit a cigar. + +"I'll get my pony and ride back with you to meet them," Duncan said. + +Wrayson detained him. + +"One moment," he said, "I have something to say to you first." + +Duncan glanced at him a little anxiously. Wrayson answered the look. + +"Nothing--disturbing," he said. "You learnt the end of everything from +my letters?" + +"I think so," Duncan answered. + +"The verdict on your father's death was absolutely unanimous," Wrayson +said. "He was seen to stagger on the platform just as the train came in, +and he seemed to make every effort to save himself. He was killed quite +instantaneously. I do not think that any one had a suspicion that it was +not entirely accidental." + +Duncan nodded. + +"And the other affair?" + +"You mean the death of Sydney Barnes? No one has ever doubted that he +committed suicide. Everything seemed to point to it. There is only one +man who knew about Morris Barnes and probably guesses the rest. His name +was Heneage, and he was your father's friend. He did not speak when he +was alive, so he is not likely to now. There is the young woman, of +course, Mrs. Morris Barnes. She has married again and gone to Canada. +Louise looked after her." + +Duncan took up his riding-whip from the table. + +"Now tell me," he said, "what it is that you have to say to me." + +"Do you read the papers?" Wrayson asked abruptly. + +"Only so far as they treat of matters connected with this country," +Duncan answered. + +"You have not read, then, of the Mexonian divorce?" + +The man's eyes were lit with fire. The handle of the riding-whip snapped +in his hands. + +"They have never granted it!" he cried. + +"Not in its first form," Wrayson answered hastily. "The whole suit fell +to the ground for want of evidence." + +"It is abandoned, then?" Duncan demanded. + +"On the contrary, the courts have granted the decree," Wrayson answered, +"but on political grounds only. Every material charge against the Queen +was withdrawn, and the divorce became a matter of arrangement." + +"She is free from that brute, then," Duncan said quietly. "I am glad." + +Wrayson glanced down towards the valley. A couple of wagons and several +Kaffir boys with led horses were just entering the valley. + +"Yes!" he said, "she is free!" + +Something in his intonation, some change in his face, gripped hold of +Duncan. He caught his visitor by the shoulder roughly. + +"What the devil do you mean?" he demanded, "What difference does it make? +She would never dare--to--" + +"You can never tell," Wrayson said, with a little sigh, "what a woman +will dare to do. Tell me the truth, Duncan. You care for her still?" + +"God knows it!" he answered fiercely. "There has never been another +woman. There never could be." + +"Jump on your pony, then, and ride down and meet them. Gently, man! +Don't break your neck." ... + +Later on they sat out upon the veranda. The swift darkness was falling +already upon the land, the colour was fading fast from the gorgeous +fragments of piled-up clouds in the western sky. Almost as they watched, +the outline faded away from the distant mountains, the rolling woods lost +their shape. + +"It's a wonderful country, yours, Duncan," Wrayson said. + +"It is God's own country," Duncan answered quietly. "What we shall make +of it, He only knows! It is the country of eternal mysteries." + +He pointed northwards. + +"Think," he said, "beneath those forests are the ruins of cities, +magnificent in civilization and art before a stone of Babylon was built, +when Nineveh was unknown. What a heritage! What a splendid heritage, if +only we can prove ourselves worthy of it!" + +"Why not?" Wrayson asked quietly. "Our day of decline is not yet. Even +the historians admit that." + +"It is the money-grabbers of the world who belittle empire," Duncan +answered. "It is from the money-grabbers of the Transvaal that we have +most to fear. Only those can know what Africa is, what it might mean to +us, who shake the dust of civilization from their feet, and creep a +little way into its heart. It is here in the quiet places that one begins +to understand. One has the sense of coming into a virgin country, strong, +fresh, and wonderful. Think of the race who might be bred here! They +would rejuvenate the world!" + +"And yet," the woman at his side murmured, the woman who had been a +queen, "it is not a virgin country after all. A little further +northwards and the forests have in their keeping the secrets of ages. +Shall we ever possess them, I wonder!" + +In the darkness she felt his arms about her. Louise and her husband had +wandered away. + +"One thing at least remains, changeless and eternal as history itself," +he murmured, as their lips met. "Thank God for it!" + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Avenger, by E. 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PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + p {margin-top:.75em;text-align:justify;margin-bottom:.75em;text-indent:2%;} + +.c {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;} + +.cb {text-align:center;text-indent:0%;font-weight:bold;} + + h1,h3 {margin-top:15%;text-align:center;clear:both;} + + hr {width:90%;margin:2em auto 2em auto;clear:both;color:black;} + + table {margin-left:auto;margin-right:auto;border:none;text-align:left;} + + body{margin-left:10%;margin-right:10%;background:#fdfdfd;color:black;font-family:"Times New Roman", serif;font-size:medium;} + +a:link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + + link {background-color:#ffffff;color:blue;text-decoration:none;} + +a:visited {background-color:#ffffff;color:purple;text-decoration:none;} + +a:hover {background-color:#ffffff;color:#FF0000;text-decoration:underline;} + + img {border:none;} + +.caption {font-weight:bold;font-size:small;} + +.figcenter {margin:8% auto 8% auto;text-align:center;} +</style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Avenger, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Avenger + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Posting Date: October 20, 2010 +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9871] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AVENGER *** + + + + +Produced by E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary +Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg +HTML version produced by Chuck Greif + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 258px;"> +<a name="front" id="front"></a> +<img src="images/illfront.jpg" width="258" height="400" alt="frontispiece" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"THERE PLASHED ACROSS HER FACE A QUIVER, AS THOUGH OF PAIN"</span> +</div> + +<h1>THE AVENGER</h1> + +<p class="cb">BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM</p> + +<p class="cb">Author of<br /><br /> +"The Master Mummer," "A Maker of History,"<br /> +"The Malefactor," "The Lost Leader,"<br /> +"The Great Secret," Etc.<br /><br /> +<i>Illustrated by</i><br /><br /> +ALEC BALL<br /><br /> +1908</p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="contents" +style="font-size:small;"> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">I.</a></td><td align="left">A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">II.</a></td><td align="left">THE HORROR OF THE HANSOM</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">III.</a></td><td align="left">DISCUSSING THE CRIME</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">IV.</a></td><td align="left">UNDER A CLOUD</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">V.</a></td><td align="left">ON THE TELEPHONE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">VI.</a></td><td align="left">ONE THOUSAND POUNDS' REWARD</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">VII.</a></td><td align="left">THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">VIII.</a></td><td align="left">THE BARONESS INTERVENES</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">IX.</a></td><td align="left">A BOX AT THE ALHAMBRA</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">X.</a></td><td align="left">OUTCAST</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">XI.</a></td><td align="left">FALSE SENTIMENT</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">XII.</a></td><td align="left">TIDINGS FROM THE CAPE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">XIII.</a></td><td align="left">SEARCHING THE CHAMBERS</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">XIV.</a></td><td align="left">THE DEAD MAN'S BROTHER</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">XV.</a></td><td align="left">THE LAWYER'S SUGGESTION</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">XVI.</a></td><td align="left">A DINNER IN THE STRAND</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">XVII.</a></td><td align="left">A CONFESSION OF LOVE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">XVIII.</a></td><td align="left">AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">XIX.</a></td><td align="left">DESPERATE WOOING</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">XX.</a></td><td align="left">STABBED THROUGH THE HEART</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">XXI.</a></td><td align="left">THE FLIGHT OF LOUISE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">XXII.</a></td><td align="left">THE CHÂTEAU OF ÉTARPE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">XXIII.</a></td><td align="left">A PASSIONATE PILGRIM</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">XXIV.</a></td><td align="left">AN INVITATION TO DINNER</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">XXV.</a></td><td align="left">THE MAN IN THE YELLOW BOOTS</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">XXVI.</a></td><td align="left">MADAME DE MELBAIN</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">XXVII.</a></td><td align="left">THE SPY</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">XXVIII.</a></td><td align="left">THE SCENE IN THE AVENUE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">XXIX.</a></td><td align="left">A SUBSTANTIAL GHOST</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">XXX.</a></td><td align="left">THE QUEEN OF MEXONIA</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">XXXI.</a></td><td align="left">RETURNED FROM THE TOMB</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">XXXII.</a></td><td align="left">AT THE HÔTEL SPLENDIDE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">XXXIII.</a></td><td align="left">A HAND IN THE GAME</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">XXXIV.</a></td><td align="left">AN ILL-ASSORTED COUPLE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">XXXV.</a></td><td align="left">HIS WIFE</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">XXXVI.</a></td><td align="left">THE MURDERED MAN'S EFFECTS</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">XXXVII.</a></td><td align="left">THE WIDOW'S ULTIMATUM</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">XXXVIII.</a></td><td align="left">INEFFECTUAL WOOING</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">XXXIX.</a></td><td align="left">THE COLONEL'S MISSION</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">XL.</a></td><td align="left">BLACKMAIL</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">XLI.</a></td><td align="left">THE COLONEL SPEAKS</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">XLII.</a></td><td align="left">LOVE REMAINS</td></tr> +</table> + +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> + +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary="illustrations" +style="font-size:small;"> +<tr><td align="center"><a href="#front">"THERE PLASHED ACROSS HER FACE A QUIVER, AS THOUGH OF PAIN"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><a href="#at">"AT THE SIGHT OF THE TWO MEN, THE BARONESS STOPPED SHORT"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><a href="#he">"HE WAS THERE ON HIS KNEES, WITH HIS ARMS AROUND THE TERRIFIED WOMAN"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="center"><a href="#to">"'TO THE NEAREST POLICE STATION! THAT'S WHERE I'M OFF.'"</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I<br /><br /> +A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR</h3> + +<p>The man and the woman stood facing one another, although in the uncertain +firelight which alone illuminated the room neither could see much save +the outline of the other's form. The woman stood at the further end of +the apartment by the side of the desk—his desk. The slim trembling +fingers of one hand rested lightly upon it, the other was hanging by her +side, nervously crumpling up the glove which she had only taken off a few +minutes before. The man stood with his back to the door through which he +had just entered. He was in evening dress; he carried an overcoat over +his arm, and his hat was slightly on the back of his head. A cigarette +was still burning between his lips, the key by means of which he had +entered was swinging from his little finger. So far no words had passed +between them. Both were apparently stupefied for the moment by the +other's unexpected presence.</p> + +<p>It was the man who recovered his self-possession first. He threw his +overcoat into a chair, and touched the brass knobs behind the door. +Instantly the room was flooded with the soft radiance of the electric +lights. They could see one another now distinctly. The woman leaned a +little forward, and there was amazement as well as fear flashing in her +soft, dark eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded to herself unnatural. +To him it came as a surprise, for the world of men and women was his +study, and he recognized at once its quality.</p> + +<p>"Who are you?" she exclaimed. "What do you want?"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"It seems to me," he answered, "that I might more fittingly assume the +role of questioner. However, I have no objection to introduce myself. My +name is Herbert Wrayson. May I ask," he continued with quiet sarcasm, "to +what I am indebted for this unexpected visit?"</p> + +<p>She was silent for a moment, and as he watched her his surprise grew. +Equivocal though her position was, he knew very well that this was no +ordinary thief whom he had surprised in his rooms, engaged to all +appearance in rifling his desk. The fact that she was a beautiful woman +was one which he scarcely took into account. There were other things more +surprising which he could not ignore. Her evening dress of black net was +faultlessly made, and he knew enough of such things to be well aware that +it came from the hands of no ordinary dressmaker. A string of pearls, her +only ornament, hung from her neck, and her black hat with its drooping +feathers was the fellow of one which he had admired a few evenings ago at +the Ritz in Paris. It flashed upon him that this was a woman of +distinction, one who belonged naturally, if not in effect, to the world +of which even he could not claim to be a habitant. What was she doing in +his rooms?—of what interest to her were he and his few possessions?</p> + +<p>"Herbert Wrayson," she repeated, leaning a little towards him. "If your +name is Herbert Wrayson, what are you doing in these rooms?"</p> + +<p>"They happen to be mine," he answered calmly.</p> + +<p>"Yours!"</p> + +<p>She picked up a small latch-key from the desk.</p> + +<p>"This is number 11, isn't it?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"No! Number 11 is the flat immediately overhead," he told her.</p> + +<p>She appeared unconvinced.</p> + +<p>"But I opened the door with this key," she declared.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Barnes and I have similar locks," he said. "The fact remains that +this is number 9, and number 11 is one story overhead."</p> + +<p>She drew a long breath, presumably of relief, and moved a step forward.</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry!" she declared. "I have made a mistake. You must please +accept my apologies."</p> + +<p>He stood motionless in front of the door. He was pale, clean-shaven, and +slim, and in his correct evening clothes he seemed a somewhat ordinary +type of the well-bred young Englishman. But his eyes were grey, and his +mouth straight and firm.</p> + +<p>She came to a standstill. Her eyes seemed to be questioning him. She +scarcely understood his attitude.</p> + +<p>"Kindly allow me to pass!" she said coldly.</p> + +<p>"Presently!" he answered.</p> + +<p>Her veil was still raised, and the flash of her eyes would surely have +made a weaker man quail. But Wrayson never flinched.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?" she demanded. "I have explained my presence +in your room. It was an accident which I regret. Let me pass at once."</p> + +<p>"You have explained your presence here," he answered, "after a fashion! +But you have not explained what your object may be in making use of that +key to enter Mr. Barnes' flat. Are you proposing to subject his +belongings to the same inspection as mine?" he asked, pointing to his +disordered desk.</p> + +<p>"My business with Mr. Barnes is no concern of yours!" she exclaimed +haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Under ordinary circumstances, no!" he admitted. "But these are not +ordinary circumstances. Forgive me if I speak plainly. I found you +engaged in searching my desk. The presumption is that you wish to do the +same thing to Mr. Barnes'."</p> + +<p>"And if I do, sir!" she demanded, "what concern is it of yours? How do +you know that I have not permission to visit his rooms—that he did not +himself give me this key?"</p> + +<p>She held it out before him. He glanced at it and back into her face.</p> + +<p>"The supposition," he said, "does not commend itself to me."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>He looked at the clock.</p> + +<p>"You see," he declared, "that it is within a few minutes of midnight. To +be frank with you, you do not seem to me the sort of person likely to +visit a bachelor such as Mr. Barnes, in a bachelor flat, at this hour, +without some serious object."</p> + +<p>She kept silence for several moments. Her bosom was rising and falling +quickly, and a brilliant spot of colour was burning in her cheeks. Her +head was thrown a little back, she was regarding him with an intentness +which he found almost disconcerting. He had an uncomfortable sense that +he was in the presence of a human being who, if it had lain in her +power, would have killed him where he stood. Further, he was realizing +that the woman whom at first glance he had pronounced beautiful, was +absolutely the first of her sex whom he had ever seen who satisfied +completely the demands of a somewhat critical and highly cultivated +taste. The silence between them seemed extended over a time crowded and +rich with sensations. He found time to marvel at the delicate whiteness +of her bosom, gleaming like polished ivory under the network of her black +gown, to appreciate with a quick throb of delight the slim roundness of +her perfect figure, the wonderful poise of her head, the soft richness of +her braided hair. Every detail of feature and of toilet seemed to satisfy +to the last degree each critical faculty of which he was possessed. He +felt a little shiver of apprehension when he recalled the cold brutality +of the words which had just left his lips! Yet how could he deal with her +differently?</p> + +<p>"Is this man—Morris Barnes—your friend?" she asked, breaking a silence +which had done more than anything else to unnerve him.</p> + +<p>"No!" he answered. "I scarcely know the man. I have never seen him except +in the lift, or on the stairs."</p> + +<p>"Then you have no excuse for keeping me here," she declared. "I may be +his friend, or I may be his enemy. At least I possess the key of his +flat, presumably with his permission. My presence here I have explained. +I can assure you that it is entirely accidental! You have no right to +detain me for a moment."</p> + +<p>The clock on the mantelpiece struck midnight. A sudden passion surged in +his veins, a passion which, although at the time he could not have +classified it, was assuredly a passion of jealousy! He remembered the man +Barnes, whom he hated.</p> + +<p>"You shall not go to his rooms—at this hour!" he exclaimed. "You don't +know the man! If you were seen—"</p> + +<p>She laughed mockingly.</p> + +<p>"Let me pass!" she insisted.</p> + +<p>He hesitated. She saw very clearly that she was conquering. A moment +before she had respected this man. After all, though, he was like +the others.</p> + +<p>"I will go with you and wait outside," he said doggedly. "Barnes, at this +hour—is not always sober!"</p> + +<p>Her lips curled.</p> + +<p>"Be wise," she said, "and let me go. I do not need your protection or—"</p> + +<p>She broke off suddenly. The interruption was certainly startling +enough. From a table only a few feet off came the shrill tinkle of a +telephone bell. Wrayson mechanically stepped backwards and took the +receiver into his hand.</p> + +<p>"Who is it?" he asked.</p> + +<p>The voice which answered him was faint but clear. It seemed to Wrayson to +come from a long way off.</p> + +<p>"Is that Mr. Wrayson's flat in Cavendish Mansions?" it asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Wrayson answered. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am a friend of Mr. Morris Barnes," the voice answered. "May I +apologize for calling you up, but the matter is urgent. Can you tell me +if Mr. Barnes is in?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure, but I believe he is never in before one or two o'clock," +Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"Will you write down a message and leave it in his letter-box?" the +voice asked anxiously. "It is very important or I would not trouble you."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Wrayson answered. "What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Tell him instantly he returns to leave his flat and go to the Hotel +Francis. A friend is waiting there for him, the friend whom he has been +expecting!"</p> + +<p>"A lady?" Wrayson remarked a little sarcastically.</p> + +<p>"No!" the voice answered. "A friend. Will you do this? Will you promise +to do it?"</p> + +<p>"Very well," Wrayson said. "Who are you, and where are you ringing up +from?"</p> + +<p>"Remember you have promised!" was the only reply.</p> + +<p>"All right! Tell me your name," Wrayson demanded.</p> + +<p>No answer. Wrayson turned the handle of the instrument viciously.</p> + +<p>"Exchange," he asked, "who was that talking to me just now?"</p> + +<p>"Don't know," was the prompt answer. "We can't remember all the calls we +get. Ring off, please!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson laid down the receiver and turned round with a sudden sense of +apprehension. There was a feeling of emptiness in the room. He had not +heard a sound, but he knew very well what had happened. The door was +slightly open and the room was empty. She had taken advantage of his +momentary absorption to slip away.</p> + +<p>He stepped outside and stood by the lift, listening. The landing was +deserted, and there was no sound of any one moving anywhere. The lift +itself was on the ground floor. It had not ascended recently or he must +have heard it. He returned to his room and softly closed the door. Again +the sense of emptiness oppressed him. A faint perfume around the place +where she had stood came to him like a whiff of some delicious memory. He +set his teeth, lit a cigarette, and sitting down at his desk wrote a few +lines to his neighbour, embodying the message which had been given him. +With the note in his hand he ascended to the next floor.</p> + +<p>There was apparently no light in flat number 11, but he rang the bell and +listened. There was no answer, no sound of any one moving within. For +nearly ten minutes he waited—listening. He was strongly tempted to open +the door with his own key and see for himself if she was there. Then he +remembered that Barnes was a man whom he barely knew, and cordially +disliked, and that if he should return unexpectedly, the situation would +be a little difficult to explain. Reluctantly he descended to his own +flat, and mixing himself a whisky and soda, lit a pipe and sat down, +determined to wait until he heard Barnes return. In less than a quarter +of an hour he was asleep!</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II<br /><br /> +THE HORROR OF THE HANSOM</h3> + +<p>Wrayson sat up with a sudden and violent start. His pipe had fallen on to +the floor, leaving a long trail of grey ash upon his waistcoat and +trousers. The electric lights were still burning, but of the fire nothing +remained but a pile of ashes. As soon as he could be said to be conscious +of anything, he was conscious of two things. One was that he was +shivering with cold, the other that he was afraid.</p> + +<p>Wrayson was by no means a coward. He had come once or twice in his life +into close touch with dangerous happenings, and conducted himself with +average pluck. He never attempted to conceal from himself, however, that +these few minutes were minutes of breathless, unreasoning fear. His heart +was thumping against his side, and the muscles at the back of his neck +were almost numb as he slowly looked round the room. His eyes paused at +the door. It was slightly open, to his nervous fancy it seemed to be +shaking. His teeth chattered, he felt his forehead, and it was wet.</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet and listened. There was no sound anywhere, from above +or below. He tried to remember what it was that had awakened him so +suddenly. He could remember nothing except that awful start. Something +must have disturbed him! He listened again. Still no sound. He drew a +little breath, and, with his eyes glued upon the half-closed door, +recollected that he himself had left it open that he might hear Barnes go +upstairs. With a little laugh, still not altogether natural, he moved to +the spirit decanter and drank off half a wineglassful of neat whisky!</p> + +<p>"Nerves," he said softly to himself. "This won't do! What an idiot I was +to go to sleep there!"</p> + +<p>He glanced at the clock. It was five minutes to three. Then he moved +towards the door, and stood for several moments with the handle in his +hand. Gradually his confidence was returning. He listened attentively. +There was not a sound to be heard in the entire building. He turned back +into the room with a little sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Time I turned in," he muttered. "Wonder if that's rain."</p> + +<p>He lifted the blind and looked out. A few stars were shining still in a +misty sky, but a bank of clouds was rolling up and rain was beginning to +fall. The pavements were already wet, and the lamp-posts obscured. He was +about to turn away when a familiar, but unexpected, sound from the street +immediately below attracted his notice. The window was open at the top, +and he had distinctly heard the jingling of a hansom bell.</p> + +<p>He threw open the bottom sash and leaned out. A hansom cab was waiting at +the entrance to the flats. Wrayson glanced once more instinctively +towards the clock. Who on earth of his neighbours could be keeping a cab +waiting outside at that hour in the morning? With the exception of Barnes +and himself, they were most of them early people. Once more he looked out +of the window. The cabman was leaning forward in his seat with his head +resting upon his folded arms. He was either tired out or asleep. The +attitude of the horse was one of extreme and wearied dejection. Wrayson +was on the point of closing the window when he became aware for the first +time that the cab had an occupant. He could see the figure of a man +leaning back in one corner, he could even distinguish a white-gloved hand +resting upon the apron. The figure was not unlike the figure of Barnes, +and Barnes, as he happened to remember, always wore white gloves in the +evening. Barnes it probably was, waiting—for what? Wrayson closed the +window a little impatiently, and turned back into the room.</p> + +<p>"Barnes and his friends can go to the devil," he muttered. "I am +off to bed."</p> + +<p>He took a couple of steps across the room, and then stopped short. The +fear was upon him again. He felt his heart almost stop beating, a cold +shiver shook his whole frame. He was standing facing his half-open door, +and outside on the stone steps he heard the soft, even footfall of +slippered feet, and the gentle rustling of a woman's gown.</p> + +<p>He was not conscious of any movement, but when she reached the landing he +was standing there on the threshold, with the soft halo of light from +behind shining on to his white, fiercely questioning face. She came +towards him without speech, and her veil was lowered so that he could +only imperfectly see her face, but she walked as one newly recovered from +illness, with trembling footsteps, and with one hand always upon the +banisters. When she reached the corner she stopped, and seemed about to +collapse. She spoke to him, and her voice had lost all its quality. It +sounded harsh and unreal.</p> + +<p>"Why are you—spying on me?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I am not spying," he answered. "I have been asleep—and woke up +suddenly."</p> + +<p>"Give me—some brandy!" she begged.</p> + +<p>She stood upon the threshold and drank from the wineglass which he +had filled. When she gave it back to him, he noticed that her fingers +were steady.</p> + +<p>"Will you come downstairs and let me out?" she asked. "I have looked +down and it is all dark on the ground floor. I am not sure that I +know my way."</p> + +<p>He hesitated, but only for a moment. Side by side they walked down four +flights of steps in unbroken silence. He asked no question, she attempted +no explanation. Only when he opened the door and she saw the waiting +hansom she very nearly collapsed. For a moment she clung to him.</p> + +<p>"He is there—in the cab," she moaned. "Where can I hide?"</p> + +<p>"Whoever it is," Wrayson answered, with his eyes fixed upon the hansom, +"he is either drunk or asleep."</p> + +<p>"Or dead!" she whispered in his ear. "Go and see!"</p> + +<p>Then, before Wrayson could recover from the shock of her words, she was +gone, flitting down the unlit side of the street with swift silent +footsteps. His eyes followed her mechanically. Then, when she had turned +the corner, he crossed the pavement towards the cab. Even now he could +see little of the figure in the corner, for his silk hat was drawn down +over his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Barnes?" he asked.</p> + +<p>There came not the slightest response. Then for the first time the +hideous meaning of those farewell words of hers broke in upon his brain. +Had she meant it? Had she known or guessed? He leaned forward and +touched the white-gloved hand. He raised it and let go. It fell like a +dead, inert thing. He stepped back and confronted the cabman, who was +rubbing his eyes.</p> + +<p>"There's something wrong with your fare, cabby," he said.</p> + +<p>The cabby raised the trap door, looked down, and descended heavily on to +the pavement.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm blowed!" he said. "Here, wake up, guv'nor!"</p> + +<p>There was no response. The cabby threw open the apron of the cab and +gently shook the recumbent figure.</p> + +<p>"I can't wait 'ere all night for my fare!" he exclaimed. "Wake up, God +luv us!" he broke off.</p> + +<p>He stepped hastily back on to the pavement, and began tugging at one of +his lamps.</p> + +<p>"Push his hat back, sir," he said. "Let's 'ave a look at 'im."</p> + +<p>Wrayson stood upon the step of the cab and lifted the silk hat from the +head of the recumbent figure. Then he sprang back quickly with a little +exclamation of horror. The lamp was shining full now upon the man's face, +livid and white, upon his staring but sightless eyes, upon something +around his neck, a fragment of silken cord, drawn so tightly that the +flesh seemed to hang over and almost conceal it.</p> + +<p>"Throttled, by God!" the cabman exclaimed. "I'm off to the police +station."</p> + +<p>He clambered up to his seat, and without another word struck his horse +with the whip. The cab drove off and disappeared. Wrayson turned slowly +round, and, closing the door of the flats, mounted with leaden feet to +the fourth story.</p> + +<p>He entered his own rooms, and walked without hesitation to the window, +which was still open. The fresh air was almost a necessity, for he felt +himself being slowly stifled. His knees were shaking, a cold icy horror +was numbing his heart and senses. A feeling of nightmare was upon him, as +though he had risen unexpectedly from a bed of delirium. There in front +of him, a little to the left, was the broad empty street amongst whose +shadows she had disappeared. On one side was the Park, and there was +obscurity indefinable, mysterious; on the other a long row of tall +mansions, a rain-soaked pavement, and a curving line of gas lamps. +Beyond, the river, marked with a glittering arc of yellow dots; further +away the glow of the sleeping city. Shelter enough there for any +one—even for her. A soft, damp breeze was blowing in his face; from +amongst the dripping trees of the Park the birds were beginning to make +their morning music. Already the blackness of night was passing away, the +clouds were lightening, the stars were growing fainter. Wrayson leaned a +little forward. His eyes were fixed upon the exact spot where she had +crossed the road and disappeared. All the horror of the coming day and +the days to come loomed out from the background of his thoughts.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III<br /><br /> +DISCUSSING THE CRIME</h3> + +<p>The murder of Morris Barnes, considered merely as an event, came as a +Godsend to the halfpenny press, which has an unwritten but immutable +contract with the public to provide it with so much sensation during the +week, in season or out of season. Nothing else was talked about anywhere. +Under the influence of the general example, Wrayson found himself within +a few days discussing its details with perfect coolness, and with an +interest which never flagged. He seemed continually to forget his own +personal and actual connection with the affair.</p> + +<p>It was discussed, amongst other places, at the Sheridan Club, of which +Wrayson was a member, and where he spent most of his spare time. At one +particular luncheon party the day after the inquest, nothing else was +spoken of. For the first time, in Wrayson's hearing, a new and somewhat +ominous light was thrown upon the affair.</p> + +<p>There were four men at the luncheon party, which was really not a +luncheon party at all, but a promiscuous coming together of four of the +men who usually sat at what was called the Colonel's table. First of all +there was the Colonel himself,—Colonel Edgar Fitzmaurice, C.B., +D.S.O.,—easily the most popular member of the club, a distinguished +retired officer, white-haired, kindly and genial, a man of whom no one +had ever heard another say an unkind word, whose hand was always in his +none too well-filled pockets, and whose sympathies were always ready to +be enlisted in any forlorn cause, deserving or otherwise. At his right +hand sat Wrayson; on his left Sydney Mason, a rising young sculptor, and +also a popular member of this somewhat Bohemian circle. Opposite was +Stephen Heneage, a man of a different and more secretive type. He called +himself a barrister, but he never practised; a journalist at times, but +he seldom put his name to anything he wrote. His interests, if he had +any, he kept to himself. In a club where a man's standing was reckoned by +what he was and what he produced, he owed such consideration as he +received to a certain air of reserved strength, the more noteworthy +amongst a little coterie of men, who amongst themselves were accustomed +to speak their minds freely, and at all times. If he was never brilliant, +he had never been heard to say a foolish thing or make a pointless +remark. He moved on his way through life, and held his place there more +by reason of certain negative qualities which, amongst a community of +optimists, were universally ascribed to him, than through any more +personal or likable gifts. He had a dark, strong face, but a slim, weakly +body. He was never unduly silent, but he was a better listener than +talker. If he had no close friends, he certainly had no enemies. Whether +he was rich or poor no man knew, but next to the Colonel himself, no one +was more ready to subscribe to any of those charities which the +Sheridanites were continually inaugurating on behalf of their less +fortunate members. The man who succeeds in keeping the "ego" out of sight +as a rule neither irritates nor greatly attracts. Stephen Heneage was +one of those who stood in this position.</p> + +<p>They were talking about the murder, or rather the Colonel was talking and +they were listening.</p> + +<p>"There is one point," he remarked, filling his glass and beaming +good-humouredly upon his companions, "which seems to have been entirely +overlooked. I am referring to the sex of the supposed assassin!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked up inquiringly. It was a point which interested him.</p> + +<p>"Nearly all of you have assumed," the Colonel continued, "that it must +have taken a strong man to draw the cord tight enough to have killed that +poor fellow without any noticeable struggle. As a matter of fact, a child +with that particular knot could have done it. It requires no strength, +only delicacy of touch, rapidity and nerve."</p> + +<p>"A woman, then—" Wrayson began.</p> + +<p>"Bless you, yes! a woman could have done it easily," the Colonel +declared, "only unfortunately there don't seem to have been any women +about. Why, I've seen it done in Korea with a turn of the wrist. It's +all knack."</p> + +<p>Wrayson shuddered slightly. The Colonel's words had troubled him more +than he would have cared to let any one know.</p> + +<p>"Woman or man or child," Mason remarked, "the person who did it seems to +have vanished in some remarkable manner from the face of the earth."</p> + +<p>"He certainly seems," the Colonel admitted, "to have covered up his +traces with admirable skill. I have read every word of the evidence at +the inquest, and I can understand that the police are completely +confused."</p> + +<p>Heneage and Mason exchanged glances of quiet amusement whilst the +Colonel helped himself to cheese.</p> + +<p>"Dear old boy," the latter murmured, "he's off on his hobby. Let him go +on! He enjoys it more than anything in the world."</p> + +<p>Heneage nodded assent, and the Colonel returned to the subject with +avidity a few moments later.</p> + +<p>"This man Morris Barnes," he affirmed, "seems to have been a somewhat +despicable, at any rate, a by no means desirable individual. He was of +Jewish origin, and he had not long returned from South Africa, where +Heaven knows what his occupation was. The money of which he was +undoubtedly possessed he seems to have spent, or at any rate some part +of it, in aping the life of a dissipated man about town. He was known +to the fair promenaders of the Empire and Alhambra, he was an <i>habitué</i> +of the places where these—er—ladies partake of supper after the +exertions of the evening. Of home life or respectable friends he seems +to have had none."</p> + +<p>"This," Mason declared, leaning back and lighting a cigarette, "is better +than the newspapers. Go on, Colonel! Your biography may not be +sympathetic, but it is lifelike!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel's eyes were full of a distinct and vivid light. He scarcely +heard the interruption. He was on fire with his subject.</p> + +<p>"You see," he continued, "that the man's days were spent amongst a class +where the passions run loose, where restraint is an unknown virtue, where +self and sensuality are the upraised gods. One can easily imagine that +from amongst such a slough might spring at any time the weed of tragedy. +In other words, this man Morris Barnes moved amongst a class of people +to whom murder, if it could be safely accomplished, would be little more +than an incident."</p> + +<p>The Colonel lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. He was enjoying +himself immensely.</p> + +<p>"The curious part of the affair is, though," he continued deliberately, +"that this murder, as I suppose we must call it, bears none of the +hall-marks of rude passion. On the contrary, it suggests in more ways +than one the touch of the finished artist. The man's whole evening has +been traced without the slightest difficulty. He dined at the Café Royal +alone, promenaded afterwards at the Alhambra, and drove on about +supper-time to the Continental. He left there at 12.30 with a couple of +ladies whom he appeared to know fairly well, called at their flat for a +drink, and sent one out to his cabby—rather unusual forethought for such +a bounder. When he reappeared and directed the man to drive him to +Cavendish Mansions, Battersea, the driver tried to excuse himself. Both +he and his horse were dead tired, he said. Barnes, however, insisted upon +keeping him, and off they went. At Cavendish Mansions, Barnes alighted +and offered the man a sovereign. Naturally enough the fellow could not +change it, and Barnes went in to get some silver from his rooms, +promising to return in a minute or two. The cabby descended and walked to +the corner of the street to see if he could beg a match for his pipe from +any passer-by. He may have been away for perhaps five minutes, certainly +no more, during which time he stood with his back to the Mansions. Seeing +no one about, he returned to his cab, ascended to his seat, naturally +without looking inside, and fell fast asleep. The next thing he remembers +is being awakened by Wrayson here! So much for the cabby."</p> + +<p>"What a fine criminal judge was lost to the country, Colonel, when you +chose the army for a career," Mason remarked, turning round to order some +coffee. "Such coherence—such an eye for detail. Pass the matches, +Wrayson. Thanks, old chap!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel smiled placidly.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," he said, "that I should never have had the heart to +sentence anybody to anything, but I must admit that things of this sort +do interest me. I love to weigh them up and theorize. The more +melodramatic they are the better."</p> + +<p>Heneage helped himself to a cigarette from Mason's case, and leaned back +in his chair.</p> + +<p>"I never have the patience," he remarked, "to read about these things in +the newspapers, but the Colonel's <i>résumé</i> is always thrilling. Do go on. +There won't be any pool till four o'clock."</p> + +<p>The Colonel smiled good-naturedly.</p> + +<p>"It's good of you fellows to listen to my prosing," he remarked. "No use +denying that it is a sort of hobby of mine. You all know it. Well, we'll +say we've finished with the cabby, then. Enter upon the scene, of all +people in the world, our friend Wrayson!"</p> + +<p>"Hear, hear!" murmured Mason.</p> + +<p>Wrayson changed his position slightly. With his head resting upon his +hand, he seemed to be engaged in tracing patterns upon the tablecloth.</p> + +<p>"Wrayson knows nothing of Barnes beyond the fact that they are neighbours +in the same flats. Being the assistant editor of a journal of world-wide +fame, however, he has naturally a telephone in his flat. By means of that +instrument he receives a message in the middle of the night from an +unknown person in an unknown place, which he is begged to convey to +Barnes. The message is in itself mysterious. Taken in conjunction with +what happened to Barnes, it is deeply interesting. Barnes, it seems, is +to go immediately on his arrival, at whatever hour, to the Hotel Francis. +Presumably he would know from whom the message came, and the sender does +not seem to have doubted that if it was conveyed to Barnes he would obey +the summons. Wrayson agrees to and does deliver it. That is to say, he +writes it down and leaves it in the letter-box of Barnes' door, Barnes not +having yet returned. Now we begin to get mysterious. That communication +from our friend here has not been discovered. It was not in the +letter-box; it was not upon the person of the dead man. We cannot tell +whether or not he ever received it. I believe that I am right so far?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely," Wrayson admitted.</p> + +<p>"Our friend Wrayson, then," the Colonel continued, beaming upon his +neighbour, "instead of going to bed like a sensible man, takes up a book +and falls asleep in his easy-chair. He wakes up about three or four +o'clock, and his attention is then attracted by the jingling of a hansom +bell below. He looks out of window and sees a cab, both the driver and +the occupant of which appear to be asleep. The circumstance striking him +as somewhat unusual, he descends to the street and finds—well, rather +more than he expected. He finds the cabman asleep, and his fare +scientifically and effectually throttled by a piece of silken cord."</p> + +<p>Wrayson turned to the waiter and ordered a liqueur brandy.</p> + +<p>"Have one, you fellows?" he asked. "Good! Four, waiter."</p> + +<p>He tossed his own off directly it arrived. His lips were pale, and the +hand which raised the glass to his lips shook. Heneage alone, who was +watching him through a little cloud of tobacco smoke, noticed this.</p> + +<p>"Have you finished with me, Colonel?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"Practically," the Colonel answered, smiling, "unless you can answer one +of the three queries suggested by my <i>résumé</i>. First, who killed Morris +Barnes? Secondly, when was it done? Thirdly, where was it done? I have +left out a possible fourth, why was it done? because, in this case, I +think that the motive and the man are practically identical. I mean that +if you discover one, you discover the other."</p> + +<p>Heneage leaned across the table towards the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"You are a magician, Colonel," he declared quietly. "I glanced through +this case in the paper, and it did not even interest me. Since I have +listened to you I have fallen under the spell of the mysterious. Have you +any theories?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel's face fell a little.</p> + +<p>"Well, I am afraid not," he admitted regretfully. "To be perfectly +interesting the affair certainly ought to present something more definite +in the shape of a clue. You see, providing we accept the evidence of +Wrayson and the cabman, and I suppose," he added, laying his hand +affectionately upon Wrayson's shoulder, "we must, the actual murderer is +a person absolutely unseen or unheard of by any one. If you are all +really interested we will discuss it again in a week's time after the +adjourned inquest."</p> + +<p>"I, for one, shall look forward to it," Heneage remarked, glancing across +towards Wrayson. "What about a pool?"</p> + +<p>"I'm on," Wrayson declared, rising a little abruptly.</p> + +<p>"And I," Mason assented.</p> + +<p>"And I can't," the Colonel said regretfully. "I must go down to Balham +and see poor Carlo Mallini; I hear he's very queer."</p> + +<p>The Colonel loved pool, and he hated a sick-room. The click of the +billiard balls reached him as he descended the stairs, but he only sighed +and set out manfully for Charing Cross. On the way he entered a +fruiterer's shop and inquired the price of grapes. They were more than he +expected, and he counted out the contents of his trousers pockets before +purchasing.</p> + +<p>"A little short of change," he remarked cheerfully. "Yes! all right, I'll +take them."</p> + +<p>He marched out, swinging a paper bag between his fingers, travelled third +class to Balham, and sat for a couple of hours with the invalid whom he +had come to see, a lonely Italian musician, to whom his coming meant more +than all the medicine his doctor could prescribe. He talked to him +glowingly of the success of his recent concert (more than a score of the +tickets sold had been paid for secretly by the Colonel himself and his +friends), prophesied great things for the future, and laughed away all +the poor fellow's fears as to his condition. There were tears in his eyes +as he walked to the station, for he had visited too many sick-beds to +have much faith in his own cheerful words, and all the way back to London +he was engaged in thinking out the best means of getting the musician +sent back to his own country, Arrived at Charing Cross, he looked +longingly towards the club, and ruefully at the contents of his pocket. +Then with a sigh he turned into a little restaurant and dined for +eighteen-pence.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV<br /><br /> +UNDER A CLOUD</h3> + +<p>Exactly one week later, six men were smoking their after-dinner cigars at +the same round table in the dining-room at the Sheridan Club. As a rule, +it was the hour when, with all the reserve of the day thrown aside, +badinage and jest reigned supreme, and the humourist came to his own. +To-night chairs were drawn a little closer together, voices were subdued, +and the conversation was of a more serious order. Not even the pleasant +warmth of the room, the fragrance of tobacco, and the comfortable sense +of having dined, could altogether dispel a feeling of uneasiness which +all more or less shared. It chanced that all six were friends of Herbert +Wrayson's.</p> + +<p>The Colonel, as usual, was in the chair, but even on his kindly features +the cloud hovered.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said, "none of us who know Wrayson well would believe for +a moment that he could be connected in any way with this beastly affair. +The unfortunate part of it is, that others, who do not know him, might +easily be led to think otherwise!"</p> + +<p>"It is altogether his own fault, too," Mason remarked. "He gave his +evidence shockingly."</p> + +<p>"And his movements that night, or rather that morning, were certainly a +little peculiar," another man remarked. "His connection with the affair +seemed to consist of a series of coincidences. The law does not look +favourably upon coincidences!"</p> + +<p>"But, after all," the Colonel remarked, "he scarcely knew the fellow! +Just nodded to him on the stairs, and that sort of thing. Why, there +isn't a shadow of a motive!"</p> + +<p>"We can't be sure of that, Colonel," Heneage remarked quietly. "I wonder +how much we really know of the inner lives of even our closest friends? I +fancy that we should be surprised if we realized our ignorance!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel stroked his grey moustache thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"That may be true," he said, "of a good many of us. Wrayson, however, +never struck me as being a particularly secretive sort of chap."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, that counts for very little," Heneage declared. "The +things which surprise us most in life come often from the most unlikely +people. We none of us mean to be deceitful, but a perfectly honest life +is a luxury which few of us dare indulge in."</p> + +<p>The Colonel regarded him gravely.</p> + +<p>"I hope," he said, "that you don't mean that you consider Wrayson +capable—"</p> + +<p>"I wasn't thinking of Wrayson at all," Heneage interrupted. "I was +generalizing. But I must say this. I think that, given sufficient +provocation or motive, there isn't one of us who wouldn't be capable of +committing murder. A man's outer life is lived according to the laws of +circumstances and society: his inner one no one knows anything about, +except himself—and God!"</p> + +<p>"Heneage," Mason sighed, "is always cynical after 'kümmel.'"</p> + +<p>Heneage shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"No!" he said, "I am not cynical. I simply have a weakness for the truth. +You will find it rather a hard material to collect if you set out in +earnest. But to return to Wrayson. Let me ask you a question. We are all +friends of his, more or less intimate friends. You would all of you scout +the idea of his having any share in the murder of Morris Barnes. What did +you make of his evidence at the inquest this afternoon? What do you think +of his whole deportment and condition?"</p> + +<p>"I can answer that in one word," the Colonel declared. "I think that it +is unfortunate. The poor fellow has been terribly upset, and his nerves +have not been able to stand the strain. That is all there is about it!"</p> + +<p>"Wrayson has been working up to the limit for years," Mason remarked, +"and he's not a particularly strong chap. I should say that he was about +due for a nervous breakdown."</p> + +<p>A waiter approached the table and addressed the Colonel—he was wanted on +the telephone. During his absence, Heneage leaned back in his chair and +relapsed into his usual imperturbability. He was known amongst his +friends generally as the silent man. It was very seldom that he +contributed so much to their discussions as upon this occasion. Perhaps +for that reason his words, when he spoke, always carried weight. Mason +changed his place and sat beside him. The others had wandered off into a +discussion upon a new magazine.</p> + +<p>"Between ourselves, Heneage," Mason said quietly, "have you anything at +the back of your head about Wrayson?"</p> + +<p>Heneage did not immediately reply. He was gazing at the little cloud of +blue tobacco smoke which he had just expelled from his lips.</p> + +<p>"There is no reason," he declared, "why my opinion should be worth any +more than any one else's. I think as highly of Wrayson as any of you."</p> + +<p>"Granted," Mason answered. "But you have a theory or an idea of some +sort concerning him. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"If you really want to know," Heneage said, "I believe that Wrayson has +kept something back. It is a very dangerous thing to do, and I believe +that he realizes it. I believe that he has some secret knowledge of the +affair which he has not disclosed—knowledge which he has kept out of his +evidence altogether."</p> + +<p>"A—guilty—knowledge?" Mason whispered.</p> + +<p>"Not necessarily!" Heneage answered. "He may be shielding some one."</p> + +<p>"If you are right," Mason said anxiously, "it is a serious affair."</p> + +<p>"Very serious indeed," Heneage assented. "I believe that he is +realizing it."</p> + +<p>The Colonel came back looking a little disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Sorry, boys, but I must be off," he announced. "Wrayson has just +telephoned to ask me to go down and see him. I'm afraid he's queer! I've +sent for a hansom."</p> + +<p>"Poor chap!" Mason murmured. "Let us know if any of us can do anything."</p> + +<p>The Colonel nodded and took his departure. The others drifted up into the +billiard-room. Heneage alone remained seated at the end of the table. He +was playing idly with his wineglass, but his eyes were fixed steadfastly, +if a little absently, upon the Colonel's empty place.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V<br /><br /> +ON THE TELEPHONE</h3> + +<p>It was a little hard even for the Colonel to keep up his affectation of +cheerfulness when he found himself alone with the man whom he had come to +visit. His experience of life had been large and varied, but he had never +yet seen so remarkable a change in any human being in twenty-four hours. +There were deep black lines under his eyes, his cheeks were colourless, +every now and then his features twitched nervously, as though he were +suffering from an attack of St. Vitus' dance. His hand, which had lain +weakly in the Colonel's, was as cold as ice, although there was a roaring +fire in the room. He had admitted the Colonel himself, and almost dragged +him inside the door.</p> + +<p>"Did you meet any one outside—upon the stairs?" he asked feverishly.</p> + +<p>"No one upon the stairs," the Colonel answered. "There was a man lighting +his pipe in the doorway."</p> + +<p>Wrayson shivered as he turned away.</p> + +<p>"Watching me!" he declared. "There are two of them! They are watching me +all the time."</p> + +<p>The Colonel took off his coat. The room seemed to him like a furnace. +Then he stretched out his hands and laid them upon Wrayson's shoulders.</p> + +<p>"What if they are?" he declared cheerfully. "They won't eat you. Besides, +it is very likely the dead man's rooms they are watching."</p> + +<p>"They followed me home from the inquest," Wrayson muttered.</p> + +<p>The Colonel laughed.</p> + +<p>"And if I'd been living here," he remarked, "they'd have followed me +home just the same. Now, Herbert, my young friend," he continued, +"sit down and tell me all about it like a man. You're in a bit of +trouble, of course, underneath all this. Let's hear it, and we'll +find the best way out."</p> + +<p>The Colonel's figure was dominant; his presence alone seemed to dispel +that unreal army of ghosts and fancies which a few moments before had +seemed to Wrayson to be making his room like the padded cell of a lunatic +asylum. His tone, too, had just enough sympathy to make its cheerfulness +reassuring. Wrayson began to feel glimmerings of common sense.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he said, "I've something to tell you. That's why I telephoned."</p> + +<p>The Colonel rose again to his feet, and began fumbling in the pocket of +his overcoat.</p> + +<p>"God bless my soul, I almost forgot!" he exclaimed, "and the fellows +would make me bring it. We guessed how you were feeling—much better to +have come up and dined with us. Here we are! Get some glasses, there's a +good chap."</p> + +<p>A gold-foiled bottle appeared, and a packet of hastily cut sandwiches. +Wrayson found himself mechanically eating and drinking before he knew +where he was. Then in an instant the sandwiches had become delicious, and +the wine was rushing through his veins like a new elixir of life. He was +himself again, the banging of anvils in his head had ceased; he was +shaken perhaps, but a sane man. His eyes filled with tears, and he +gripped the Colonel by the hand.</p> + +<p>"Colonel, you're—you're—God knows what you are," he murmured. "All the +ordinary things sound commonplace. I believe I was going mad."</p> + +<p>The Colonel leaned back and laughed as though the idea tickled him.</p> + +<p>"Not you!" he declared. "Bless you, I know what nerves are! Out in India, +thirty-five years ago, I've had to relieve men on frontier posts who +hadn't seen a soul to speak to for six months! Weird places some of them, +too—gives me the creeps to think of them sometimes! Now light up that +cigar," he added, throwing one across, "and let's hear the trouble."</p> + +<p>Wrayson lit his cigar with fingers which scarcely shook. He threw the +match away and smoked for a moment in silence.</p> + +<p>"It's about this Morris Barnes affair," he said abruptly. "I've kept +something back, and I'm a clumsy hand at telling a story that doesn't +contain all the truth. The consequence is, of course, that I'm suspected +of having had a hand in it myself."</p> + +<p>The Colonel's manner had for a moment imperceptibly changed. Lines had +come out in his face which were not usually visible, his upper lip had +stiffened. One could fancy that he might have led his men into battle +looking something like this.</p> + +<p>"What is it that you know?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"There was another person in the flats that night, who was interested in +Morris Barnes, who visited his rooms, who was with me when I first saw +him dead."</p> + +<p>The Colonel shaded his face with his hand. The heat from the fire +was intense.</p> + +<p>"Why have you kept back this knowledge?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Because—it was a woman, and I am a fool!" Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>There was a silence. Then the Colonel pushed back his chair and dabbed +his forehead with his handkerchief. The room was certainly hot, and the +handkerchief was wet.</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it," he said quietly. "I expected something of the sort!"</p> + +<p>"On that morning," Wrayson began, "I returned home about twelve o'clock, +let myself in with my own latch-key, and found a woman standing before my +open desk going through my papers."</p> + +<p>"A friend?" the Colonel asked.</p> + +<p>"A complete stranger!" Wrayson answered. "Her surprise at seeing me was +at least equal to my own. I gathered that she had believed herself to be +in the flat of Morris Barnes, which is the corresponding one above."</p> + +<p>"What did you do?" the Colonel asked.</p> + +<p>"What I should have done I am not sure," Wrayson answered, "but while I +was talking to her the telephone bell rang, and I received that message +which I spoke about at the inquest. It was a mysterious sort of +business—I can hear that voice now. I was interested, and while I stood +there she slipped away."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" the Colonel asked.</p> + +<p>"No!" Wrayson answered with a groan. "I wish to God it was!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel moved his position a little. The cigar had burnt out between +his fingers, but he made no effort to light it.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said. "Tell me the rest. Tell me what happened afterwards."</p> + +<p>"I wrote down the message for Barnes and left it in his letter-box. +There seemed then to be no light in his flat. Afterwards I lit a pipe, +left my door open, and sat down, with the intention of waiting till +Barnes came home and explaining what had happened. I fell asleep in my +chair and woke with a start. It was nearly three o'clock. I was going to +turn in when I heard the jingling of a hansom bell down below. I looked +out of the window and saw the cab standing in the street. Almost at the +same time I heard footsteps outside. I went to the door of my flat and +came face to face with the girl descending from the floor above."</p> + +<p>"At three o'clock in the morning?" the Colonel interrupted.</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"She was white and shaking all over," he continued rapidly. "She asked +me for brandy and I gave it to her; she asked me to see her out of the +place, and I did so. When I opened the door to let her out and we saw +the man leaning back in the cab, she moaned softly to herself. I said +something about his being asleep or drunk—'or dead!' she whispered in +my ear, and then she rushed away from me. She turned into the Albert +Road and disappeared almost at once. I could not have followed her if I +would. I had just begun to realize that something was wrong with the man +in the cab!"</p> + +<p>"This is all?" the Colonel asked.</p> + +<p>"It is all!" Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"You do not know her name, or why she was here? You have not seen +her since?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I know absolutely nothing," he said, "beyond what I have told you."</p> + +<p>The Colonel struck a match and relit his cigar.</p> + +<p>"I should like to understand," he said quietly, "why you avoided all +mention of her in your evidence."</p> + +<p>Wrayson laughed oddly.</p> + +<p>"I should like to understand that myself," he declared. "I can only +repeat what I said before. She was a woman, and I was a fool."</p> + +<p>"In plain English," the Colonel said, "you did it to shield her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>The Colonel nodded thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "you were in a difficult position, and you made a +deliberate choice. I tell you frankly that I expected to hear worse +things. Do you believe that she committed the murder?"</p> + +<p>"No!" Wrayson answered. "I do not!"</p> + +<p>"You believe that she may be associated with—the person who did?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," Wrayson declared.</p> + +<p>"In any case," the Colonel continued, "you seem to have been the only +person who saw her. Whether you were wise or not to omit all mention of +her in your evidence—well, we won't discuss that. The best of us have +gone on the wrong side of the hedge for a woman before now—and damned +glad to do it. What I can't quite understand, old chap, is why you have +worked yourself up into such a shocking state. You don't stand any chance +of being hanged, that I can see!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson laughed a little shamefacedly.</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth," he said, "I am beginning to feel ashamed of +myself. I think it was the sense of being spied upon, and being +alone—in this room—which got a bit on my nerves. I feel a different man +since you came down."</p> + +<p>The Colonel nodded cheerfully.</p> + +<p>"That's all right," he declared. "The next thing to—"</p> + +<p>The Colonel broke off in the midst of his sentence. A few feet away from +him the telephone bell was ringing. Wrayson rose to his feet and took the +receiver into his hand.</p> + +<p>"Hullo!" he said.</p> + +<p>The voice which answered him was faint but clear. Wrayson almost dropped +the instrument. He recognized it at once.</p> + +<p>"Is that Mr. Herbert Wrayson?" it asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Wrayson answered. "Who are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am the person who spoke to you a few nights ago," was the answer. +"Never mind my name for the present. I wish to arrange a meeting—for +some time to-morrow. I have a matter—of business—to discuss with you."</p> + +<p>"Anywhere—at any time," Wrayson answered, almost fiercely. "You cannot +be as anxious to see me as I am to know who you are."</p> + +<p>The voice changed a little in its intonation. A note of mockery had +stolen into it.</p> + +<p>"You flatter me," it said. "I trust that our meeting will be mutually +agreeable. You must excuse my coming to Battersea, as I understand that +your flat is subjected to a most inconvenient surveillance. May I call at +the office of your paper, at say eleven o'clock tomorrow?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Wrayson answered. "You know where it is?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly! I shall be there. A Mr. Bentham will ask for you. +Good night!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson's unknown friend had rung off. He replaced the receiver and +turned to the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Do you know who that was?" he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I can guess," the Colonel answered.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, at eleven o'clock," Wrayson declared, "I shall know who +killed Morris Barnes."</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI<br /><br /> +ONE THOUSAND POUNDS' REWARD</h3> + +<p>But when the morrow came, and his visitor was shown into Wrayson's +private office, he was not quite so sure about it. Mr. Bentham had not in +the least the appearance of a murderer. Clean-shaven, a little slow in +speech, quietly dressed, he resembled more than anything a country +solicitor in moderate practice.</p> + +<p>He bowed in correct professional manner, and laid a brown paper parcel +upon the table.</p> + +<p>"I believe," he said, "that I have the honour of addressing Mr. Wrayson?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded a little curtly.</p> + +<p>"And you, I suppose," he remarked, "are the owner of the mysterious +voice which summoned Morris Barnes to the Francis Hotel on the night of +his murder?"</p> + +<p>"It was I who spoke to you," Mr. Bentham admitted.</p> + +<p>"Very well," Wrayson said, "I am glad to see you. It was obvious, from +your message, that you knew of some danger which was threatening Morris +Barnes that night. It is therefore only fair to presume that you are also +aware of its source."</p> + +<p>"You go a little fast, sir," Mr. Bentham objected.</p> + +<p>"My presumption is a fair one," Wrayson declared. "You are perhaps aware +of my unfortunate connection with this affair. If so, you will understand +that I am particularly anxious to have it cleared up."</p> + +<p>"It is not at all certain that I can help you," his visitor said +precisely. "It depends entirely upon yourself. Will you permit me to put +my case before you?"</p> + +<p>"By all means," Wrayson answered. "Go ahead."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham took the chair towards which Wrayson had somewhat impatiently +pointed, and unbuttoned his coat. It was obvious that he was not a person +to be hurried.</p> + +<p>"In the first place, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "I must ask you distinctly to +understand that I am not addressing you on my own account. I am a lawyer, +and I am acting on behalf of a client."</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" Wrayson asked. "What is his name?"</p> + +<p>The ghost of a smile flickered across the lawyer's thin lips.</p> + +<p>"I am not at liberty to divulge his identity," he answered. "I am, +however, fully empowered to act for him."</p> + +<p>Wrayson shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"He may find it necessary to disclose it, and before very long," he +remarked. "Well, go on."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham discreetly ignored the covert threat in Wrayson's words.</p> + +<p>"My mission to you, Mr. Wrayson," he declared, "is a somewhat delicate +one. It is not, in fact, connected with the actual—tragedy to which you +have alluded. My commission is to regain possession of a paper which was +stolen either from the person of Morris Barnes or from amongst his +effects, on that night."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked up eagerly.</p> + +<p>"The motive at last!" he exclaimed. "What was the nature of this +paper, sir?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham's eyebrows were slowly raised.</p> + +<p>"That," he said, "we need not enter into for the moment. The matter of +business between you and myself, or rather my client, is this. I am +authorized to offer a thousand pounds reward for its recovery."</p> + +<p>Wrayson was impressed, although the other's manner left him a +little puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Why not offer the reward for the discovery of the murderer?" he asked. +"It would come, I presume, to the same thing."</p> + +<p>"By no means," the lawyer answered dryly. "I am afraid that I have not +expressed myself well. My client cares nothing for Morris Barnes, dead or +alive. His interest begins and ends with the recovery of that paper."</p> + +<p>"But isn't it almost certain," Wrayson persisted, "that the thief and the +murderer are the same person? Your client ought to have come forward at +the inquest. The thing which has chiefly troubled the police in dealing +with this matter is the apparent lack of motive."</p> + +<p>"My client is not actuated in any way by philanthropic motives," Mr. +Bentham said coldly. "To tell you the truth, he does not care whether the +murderer of Morris Barnes is brought to justice or not. He is only +anxious to recover possession of the document of which I have spoken."</p> + +<p>"If he has a legal claim to it," Wrayson said, "he had better offer his +reward openly. He would probably help himself then, and also those who +are anxious to have this mystery solved."</p> + +<p>"Are you amongst those, Mr. Wrayson?" his visitor asked quietly.</p> + +<p>Wrayson started slightly, but he retained his self-composure.</p> + +<p>"I am very much amongst them," he answered. "My connection with the +affair was an extremely unpleasant one, and it will remain so until the +murderer of Morris Barnes is brought to book."</p> + +<p>"Or murderess," Mr. Bentham murmured softly.</p> + +<p>Wrayson reeled in his chair as though he had been struck a violent +and unexpected blow. He understood now the guarded menace of his +visitor's manner. He felt the man's eyes taking merciless note of his +whitening cheeks.</p> + +<p>"My client," the lawyer continued, "desires to ask no questions. All that +he wants is the document to which he is entitled, and which was stolen on +the night when Mr. Morris Barnes met with his unfortunate accident."</p> + +<p>Wrayson had pulled himself together with an effort.</p> + +<p>"I presume," he said, "from your frequent reiteration, that I may take +this as being to some extent a personal offer. If so, let me assure you, +sir, that so far as I am concerned I know nothing whatever of any papers +or other belongings which were in the possession of my late neighbour. I +have never seen or heard of any. I do not even know why you should have +come to me at all."</p> + +<p>"I came to you," Mr. Bentham said, "because I was very well aware that, +for some reason or other, your evidence at the inquest was not quite as +comprehensive as it might have been."</p> + +<p>"Then, for Heaven's sake, tell me all that you know!" Wrayson exclaimed. +"Take my word for it, I know nothing of this document or paper. I have +neither seen it nor heard of it. I know nothing whatever of the man or +his affairs. I can't help you. I would if I could. On the other hand, you +can throw some light upon the motive for the crime. Who is your client? +Let me go and see him for myself."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham rose to his feet, and began slowly to draw on his gloves.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wrayson," he said quietly, "I am disappointed with the result of my +visit to you. I admit it frankly. You are either an extremely ingenuous +person, or a good deal too clever for me. In either case, if you will not +treat with me, I need not waste your time."</p> + +<p>Wrayson moved to the door and stood with his back to it.</p> + +<p>"I am not at all sure," he said, "that I am justified in letting you go +like this. You are in possession of information which would be invaluable +to the police in their search for the murderer of Morris Barnes."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham smiled coldly.</p> + +<p>"And are not you," he remarked, "in the same fortunate position—with the +unfortunate exception, perhaps, of having already given your testimony? +Of the two, if disclosures had to be made, I think that I should prefer +my own position."</p> + +<p>Wrayson remained where he was.</p> + +<p>"I am inclined," he said, "to risk it. At least you would be compelled to +disclose your client's name."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham visibly flinched. He recovered himself almost immediately, +but the shadow of fear had rested for a moment, at any rate, upon his +impassive features.</p> + +<p>"I am entirely at your service," he said coldly. "My client has at least +not broken the laws of his country."</p> + +<p>Wrayson stood away from the door.</p> + +<p>"You can go," he said shortly, "if you will leave me your address."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham bowed.</p> + +<p>"I regret that I have no card with me," he said, "but I have an office, +a single room only, in number 8, Paper Buildings, Adelphi. If you should +happen to come across—that document—"</p> + +<p>Wrayson held open the door.</p> + +<p>"If I should come to see you," he said, "it will be on other business."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Wrayson lunched at the club that morning, and received a warm greeting +from his friends. The subject of the murder was, as though by common +consent, avoided. Towards the end of the meal the Colonel received a +telegram, which he read and laid down upon the table in front of him.</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" he said softly, "I'd forgotten all about it. Boys, you've got +to help me out."</p> + +<p>"We're on," Mason declared. "What is it? a fight?"</p> + +<p>"It's a garden party my girls are giving to-morrow afternoon," the +Colonel answered. "I promised to take some of you down. Come, who's going +to help me out? Wrayson? Good! Heneage? Excellent! Mason? Good fellows, +all of you! Two-twenty from Waterloo, flannels and straw hats."</p> + +<p>The little group broke up, and the Colonel was hurried off into the +Committee Room. Wrayson and Heneage exchanged dubious glances.</p> + +<p>"A garden party in May!" the latter remarked.</p> + +<p>"Taking time by the forelock a little, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson sighed resignedly.</p> + +<p>"It's the Colonel!" he declared. "We should have to go if it were +December!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII<br /><br /> +THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER</h3> + +<p>After all, the garden party was not so bad. The weather was perfect, and +the grounds of Shirley House were large enough to find amusement for all +the guests. Wrayson, who had made great friends with the Colonel's +younger daughter, enjoyed himself immensely. After a particularly +strenuous set of tennis, she led him through the wide-open French windows +into a small morning-room.</p> + +<p>"We can rest for a few minutes in here," she remarked. "You can consider +it a special mark of favour, for this is my own den."</p> + +<p>"You are spoiling me," Wrayson declared, laughing. "May I see those +photographs?"</p> + +<p>"If you like," she answered, "only you mustn't be too critical, for I'm +only a beginner, you know. Here's a bookful of them you can look through, +while I go and start the next set."</p> + +<p>She placed a volume in his hand and swung out of the room, tall, fresh, +and graceful. Wrayson watched her admiringly. In her perfect naturalness +and unaffected good-humour, she reminded him a good deal of her father, +but curiously enough there was some other likeness which appealed to him +even more powerfully, and yet which he was unable to identify. It puzzled +him so that for a moment or two after her departure he sat watching the +door through which she had disappeared, with a slight frown upon his +forehead. She was undoubtedly charming, and yet something in connection +with her seemed to impress him with an impending sense of trouble. +Everything about her person and manners was frank and girlish, and yet +she was certainly recalling to his mind things that he had been +struggling all the afternoon to forget. Already he began to feel the +clouds of nervousness and depression stealing down upon him. He struck +the table with his clenched fist. He would have none of it. Outside was +the delicious sunshine, through the open window stole in the perfume of +the roses which covered the wall, and mignonette from the trim borders, +and stocks from the bed fringing the lawn. The murmur of pleasant +conversation was incessant and musical. For a time Wrayson had escaped. +He swore to himself that he would go back no more into bondage; that he +would dwell no more upon the horrors through which he had lived. He would +take hold of the pleasant things of life with both hands, and grip them +tightly. A man should be master of his thoughts, not the slave of +unwilling memories. He would choose for himself whither they should lead +him; he would fight with all his nerve and will against the unholy +fascination of those few thrilling hours. He looked impatiently towards +the door, and longed for the return of his late companion that he might +continue his half-laughing flirtation. Then he remembered the album still +upon his knee, and opened it quickly. He had dabbled a little in +photography; he would find something here to keep his thoughts from the +forbidden place. And he did indeed find something—something which set +his heart thumping, and drew all the colour, which the sun and vigorous +exercise had brought, from his cheeks; something at which he stared with +wide-open eyes, which he held before him with trembling, nerveless +fingers. The picture of a woman! The picture of her!</p> + +<p>It had lain loose in the book, with its back towards him. Only chance +made him turn it over. As he looked he understood. There was the +likeness, such likeness as there may be between a beautiful woman, a +little sad, a little scornful, with the faint lines of mockery about her +curving lips, the world-weary light in her distant eyes, and the fresh, +ingenuous girl with whom he had been bandying pleasantries during the +last few hours. He had felt it unknowingly. He realized it now, and the +thought of what it might mean made him catch at his breath like a +drowning man. Then she came in.</p> + +<p>He heard her gay laughter outside, a backward word flung to one of the +tennis players, as she stepped in through the window, her cheeks still +flushed, and her eyes aglow.</p> + +<p>"We really ought to watch this set," she declared. "That is, if you are +not too much absorbed in my handiwork. What have you got there?"</p> + +<p>He held it out to her with a valiant attempt at unconcern.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind telling me who this is?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She glanced at it carelessly enough, but at once her whole expression +changed. The smile left her lips, her eyes filled with trouble.</p> + +<p>"Where did you find it?" she asked, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"In the album," he answered. "It was loose between the pages."</p> + +<p>She took it gently from his fingers, and crossing the room locked it +in her desk.</p> + +<p>"I had no idea that it was here," she said. "It is a picture of my +eldest sister, or rather my step-sister."</p> + +<p>The change in her manner was so apparent that, under ordinary +circumstances, Wrayson would not have dreamed of pursuing the subject. +But the conventions of life seemed to him small things just then.</p> + +<p>"Your step-sister!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea—shall I meet her this +afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"No!" she answered, gravely. "What do you say—shall we go out now?"</p> + +<p>She took up her racket, but he lingered.</p> + +<p>"Please don't think me hopelessly inquisitive, Miss Fitzmaurice," he +said, "but I have really a reason for being very interested in the +original of that picture. I should like to meet your step-sister."</p> + +<p>"You will never do so here, I am afraid," she answered. "My father and +she disagreed years ago. He does not allow us to see or hear from her. We +may not even mention her name."</p> + +<p>"Your father," Wrayson remarked thoughtfully, "is not a stern parent by +any means."</p> + +<p>"I should think not," she answered, smiling. "Dear old dad! I have never +heard him say an unkind word to any one in my life."</p> + +<p>"And yet—" Wrayson began, hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind if we don't talk any more about it?" she interrupted simply. +"I think you can understand that it is not a very pleasant subject. Do +you feel like another set, or would you rather do something else?"</p> + +<p>"Tennis, by all means, if you are rested," he answered. "We will find our +old opponents and challenge them again."</p> + +<p>Wrayson made a supreme effort, and his spirits for the rest of the +afternoon were almost boisterous. Yet all the time the nightmare was +there behind. It crept out whenever he caught sight of his host moving +about amongst his guests, beaming and kindly. His daughter! The Colonel's +daughter! What was he to do? The problem haunted him continually. All the +time he had to be pushing it back.</p> + +<p>The guests began to depart at last. By seven o'clock the last carriage +was rolling down the avenue. The Colonel, with a huge smile of relief, +and a large cigar, came and took Wrayson's arm.</p> + +<p>"Good man!" he exclaimed. "You've worked like a Trojan. We'll have one +whisky and soda, eh? and then I'll show you your room. Say when!"</p> + +<p>"I've enjoyed myself immensely," Wrayson declared. "Miss Edith has been +very kind to me."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you've made friends with her," the Colonel said. "She's a +harum-scarum lot, I'm afraid, and a sad chatterbox, but she's the right +sort of a person for a man with nerves like you! You're looking a bit +white still, I see!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson would have spoken then, but his tongue seemed to cling to the +roof of his mouth. He had been asked to bring his clothes and dine, and +in the minutes' solitude while he changed, he made a resolute effort to +face this new problem. There was not the slightest doubt in his mind that +the girl whom he had surprised in his rooms, ransacking his desk, and +whom subsequently he had assisted to escape from the Mansions, was +identical with the original of this portrait. She was the Colonel's +daughter. With a flash of horror, he remembered that it had been the +Colonel himself who had pointed out the possibility of a woman's hands +having drawn that silken cord together! Half dressed he sat down in a +chair and buried his face in his hands.</p> + +<p>The dinner gong disturbed him. He sprang up, tied his tie with trembling +fingers, and hastily completed his toilet. Once more, with a great +effort, and an almost reckless resort to his host's champagne, he +triumphed over the demons of memory which racked his brain. At dinner his +gayety was almost feverish. Edith Fitzmaurice, who was his neighbour, +found him a delightful companion. Only the Colonel glanced towards him +now and then anxiously. He recognized the signs of high-pressure, and the +light in Wrayson's eyes puzzled him.</p> + +<p>There were no other men dining, and in course of time the two were left +alone. The Colonel passed the cigars and touched the port wine decanter, +which, however, he only offered in a half-hearted way.</p> + +<p>"If you don't care about any more wine," he said, "we might have a smoke +in the garden."</p> + +<p>Wrayson rose at once.</p> + +<p>"I should like it," he said abruptly. "I don't know how it is, but I seem +half-stifled to-day."</p> + +<p>They passed out into the soft, cool night. A nightingale was singing +somewhere in the elm trees which bordered the garden. The air was sweet +with the perfume of early summer flowers. Wrayson drew a long, deep +breath of content.</p> + +<p>"Let us sit down, Colonel," he said; "I have something to tell you."</p> + +<p>The Colonel led the way to a rustic seat. A few stars were out, but no +moon. In the dusky twilight, the shrubs and trees beyond stood out with +black and almost startling distinctness against the clear sky.</p> + +<p>"You remember the girl—I told you about, whom I found in my flat, and +afterwards?" Wrayson asked hoarsely.</p> + +<p>The Colonel nodded.</p> + +<p>"Certainly! What about her? To tell you the truth, I am afraid I—"</p> + +<p>Wrayson stopped him with a quick, fierce exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Don't, Colonel!" he said. "Wait until you have heard what I have to say. +I have seen her picture—to-day."</p> + +<p>The Colonel removed his cigar from his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Her picture!" he exclaimed. "To-day! Where? My dear fellow, this is very +interesting! You know my opinion as to that young—"</p> + +<p>Again Wrayson stopped him, this time with an oath.</p> + +<p>"In your house, Colonel," he said. "Your daughter showed it to me—in +an album!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel sat like a man turned to stone. The hand which held his cigar +shook so that the ash fell upon his waistcoat.</p> + +<p>"Go on!" he faltered.</p> + +<p>"I asked who it was. I was told that it was your daughter! Miss Edith's +step-sister! Forgive me, Colonel! I had to tell you!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel seemed to have shrunk in his place. The cigar slipped from +his fingers and fell unheeded on to the grass. His mouth trembled and +twitched pitifully.</p> + +<p>"My—my daughter Louise!" he faltered. "Wrayson, you are not serious!"</p> + +<p>"It is God's truth," Wrayson answered. "I would stake my soul upon it +that the girl—I told you about—was the original of that picture! When I +look at your daughter Edith I can see the likeness."</p> + +<p>The Colonel's head was buried in his hands. His exclamation sounded +like a sob.</p> + +<p>"My God!" he murmured.</p> + +<p>Then there was silence. Only the nightingale went on with his song.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII<br /><br /> +THE BARONESS INTERVENES</h3> + +<p>The Baroness trifled with some grapes and looked languidly round the +room.</p> + +<p>"My dear Louise," she declared, "it is the truth what every one tells me +of your country. You are a dull people. I weary myself here."</p> + +<p>The girl whom she had addressed as Louise shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"So do I, so do all of us," she answered, a little wearily. "What would +you have? One must live somewhere."</p> + +<p>The Baroness sighed, and from a chatelaine hung with elegant trifles +selected a gold cigarette case. An attentive waiter rushed for a match +and presented it. The Baroness gave a little sigh of content as she +leaned back in her chair. She smoked as one to the manner born.</p> + +<p>"One must live somewhere, it is true," she agreed, "but why London? I +think that of all great cities it is the most provincial. It lacks what +you call the atmosphere. The people are all so polite, and so deadly, +deadly dull. How different in Paris or Berlin, even Brussels!"</p> + +<p>"Circumstances are a little against us, aren't they?" Louise remarked. +"Our opportunities for making acquaintances are limited."</p> + +<p>The Baroness made a little grimace.</p> + +<p>"You, my young friend," she said, "are of the English—very English. +Quite Saxon, in fact. With you there would never be any making of +acquaintances! I feel myself in the bonds of a cast-iron chaperonage +whenever I move out with you. Why is it, little one? Have you never any +desire to amuse yourself?"</p> + +<p>"I don't quite understand you," her companion answered dryly. "If you +mean that I have no desire to encourage promiscuous acquaintances, you +are certainly right. I prefer to be dull."</p> + +<p>The Baroness sighed gently.</p> + +<p>"Some of my dearest friends," she murmured, "I have—but there, it is a +subject upon which we disagree. We will talk of something else. Shall we +go to the theatre to-night?"</p> + +<p>"As you will," Louise answered indifferently. "There isn't much that we +haven't seen, is there?"</p> + +<p>"We will send for a paper and see," the Baroness said. "We cannot sit and +look at one another all the evening. With music one can make dinner last +out till nine or even half past—an idea, my Louise!" she exclaimed +suddenly. "Cannot we go to a music-hall, the Alhambra, for example? We +could take a box and sit back."</p> + +<p>"It is not customary," Louise declared coldly. "If you really wish it, +though, I don't—I don't—"</p> + +<p>Her speech was broken off in a somewhat extraordinary manner. She was +leaning a little forward in her chair, all her listlessness and pallor +seemed to have been swept away by a sudden rush of emotion. The colour +had flooded her cheeks, her tired eyes were suddenly bright; was it with +fear or only surprise? The Baroness wasted no time in asking questions. +She raised her lorgnettes and turned round, facing the direction in +which Louise was looking. Coming directly towards them from the further +end of the restaurant was a young man, whose eyes never swerved from +their table. He was pale, somewhat slight, but the lines of his mouth +were straight and firm, and there was not lacking in him that air of +distinction which the Baroness never failed to recognize. She put down +her glasses and looked across at Louise with a smile. She was quite +prepared to approve.</p> + +<p>The young man stopped at their table and addressed himself directly to +Louise. The Baroness frowned as she saw how scanty were the signs of +encouragement in her young companion's face. She leaned a little forward, +ready at the first signs of an introduction to make every effort to atone +for Louise's coldness by a most complete amiability. This young man +should not be driven away if she could help it!</p> + +<p>"I have been hoping, Miss Fitzmaurice," Wrayson said calmly, "that I +might meet you somewhere."</p> + +<p>She shrank a little back for a moment. There flashed across her face a +quiver, as though of pain.</p> + +<p>"Why do you think," she asked, "that that is my name?"</p> + +<p>"Your father, Colonel Fitzmaurice, is one of my best friends," he +answered gravely. "I was at his house yesterday. I only came up this +morning. I beg your pardon! You are not well!"</p> + +<p>Every vestige of colour had left her cheeks. The Baroness touched her +foot under the table, and Louise found her voice with an effort.</p> + +<p>"How did you know that Colonel Fitzmaurice was my father?" she asked +breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"I found a picture in your sister's album," he answered.</p> + +<p>The answer seemed somehow to reassure her. She leaned a little towards +him. Under cover of the music her voice was inaudible to any one else.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wrayson," she said, "please don't think me unkind. I know that I +have a great deal to thank you for, and that there are certain +explanations which you have almost a right to demand from me. And yet I +ask you to go away, to ask me nothing at all, to believe me when I assure +you that there is nothing in the world so undesirable as any acquaintance +between you and me."</p> + +<p>Wrayson was staggered, the words were so earnestly spoken, and the look +which accompanied them was so eloquent. He was never sure, when he +thought it over afterwards, what manner of reply he might not have made +to an appeal, the genuineness of which was absolutely convincing. But +before he could frame an answer, the Baroness intervened.</p> + +<p>"Louise," she said softly, "do you not think that this place is a +little public for intimate conversation, and will you not introduce to +me your friend?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson, who had been afraid of dismissal, turned at once, almost +eagerly, towards the Baroness. She smiled at him graciously. Louise +hesitated for a moment. There was no smile upon her lips. She bowed, +however, to the inevitable.</p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Wrayson," she said quietly; "the Baroness de Sturm."</p> + +<p>The Baroness raised her eyebrows, and she bestowed upon Wrayson a +comprehending look. The graciousness of her manner, however, underwent no +abatement.</p> + +<p>"I fancy," she said, "that I have heard of you somewhere lately, or is +it another of the same name? Will you not sit down and take your coffee +with us—and a cigarette—yes?"</p> + +<p>"We are keeping Mr. Wrayson from his friends, no doubt," Louise said +coldly. "Besides—do you see the time, Amy?"</p> + +<p>But Wrayson had already drawn up a chair to the table.</p> + +<p>"I am quite alone," he said. "If I may stay, I shall be delighted."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" the Baroness asked, passing her cigarette case. "You can solve +for us the problem we were just then discussing. Is it <i>comme-il-faut,</i> +Mr. Wrayson, for two ladies, one of whom is almost middle-aged, to visit +a music-hall here in London unescorted?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson glanced from Louise to her friend.</p> + +<p>"May I inquire," he asked blandly, "which is the lady who is posing as +being almost middle-aged?"</p> + +<p>The Baroness laughed at him softly, with a little contraction of the +eyebrows, which she usually found effective.</p> + +<p>"We are going to be friends, Mr. Wrayson," she declared. "You are +sitting there in fear and trembling, and yet you have dared to pay a +compliment, the first I have heard for, oh! so many months. Do not be +afraid. Louise is not so terrible as she seems. I will not let her send +you away. Now you must answer my question. May we do this terrible +thing, Louise and I?"</p> + +<p>"Assuredly not," he answered gravely, "when there is a man at hand who is +so anxious to offer his escort as I."</p> + +<p>The Baroness clapped her hands.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear, Louise?" she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I hear," Louise answered dryly.</p> + +<p>The Baroness made a little grimace.</p> + +<p>"You are in an impossible humour, my dear child," she declared. +"Nevertheless, I declare for the music-hall, and for the escort of your +friend, Mr. Wrayson, if he really is in earnest."</p> + +<p>"I can assure you," he said, "that you would be doing me a great kindness +in allowing me to offer my services."</p> + +<p>The Baroness beamed upon him amiably, and rose to her feet.</p> + +<p>"You have come," she avowed, "in time to save me from despair. I am not +used to go about so much unescorted, and I am not so independent as +Louise. See," she added, pushing a gold purse towards him, "you shall pay +our bill while we put on our cloaks. And will you ask afterwards for my +carriage, and we will meet in the portico?"</p> + +<p>"With pleasure!" Wrayson answered, rising to his feet as they left the +table. "I will telephone for a box to the Alhambra. There is a wonderful +new ballet which every one is going to see."</p> + +<p>He called the waiter and paid the bill from a remarkably well-filled +purse. As he replaced the change, it was impossible for him to avoid +seeing a letter addressed and stamped ready for posting, which occupied +one side of the gold bag. The name upon the envelope struck him as being +vaguely familiar; what had he heard lately of Madame de Melbain? It was +associated somehow in his mind with a recent event. It lingered in his +memory for days afterwards.</p> + +<p>Louise and the Baroness left the room in silence. In the cloak-room the +latter watched her friend curiously as she arranged her wrap.</p> + +<p>"So that is Mr. Wrayson," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Louise answered deliberately. "I wish that you had let him go!"</p> + +<p>The Baroness laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," she protested, "why? He seems to me quite a personable +young man, and he may be useful! Who can tell?"</p> + +<p>Louise shrugged her shoulders. She stood waiting while the Baroness made +somewhat extensive use of her powder-puff.</p> + +<p>"You forget," she said quietly, "that I am already in Mr. Wrayson's debt +pretty heavily."</p> + +<p>The Baroness looked quickly around. She considered her young friend a +little indiscreet.</p> + +<p>"I find you amusing, <i>ma chère</i>," she remarked. "Since when have you +developed scruples?"</p> + +<p>Louise turned towards the door.</p> + +<p>"You do not understand," she said. "Come!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX<br /><br /> +A BOX AT THE ALHAMBRA</h3> + +<p>The Baroness lowered her lorgnettes and turned towards Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"There is a man," she remarked, "in the stalls, who finds us apparently +more interesting than the performance. I do not see very well even +with my glasses, but I fancy, no! I am quite sure, that his face is +familiar to me."</p> + +<p>Wrayson leaned forward from his seat in the back of the box and looked +downward. There was no mistaking the person indicated by the Baroness, +nor was it possible to doubt his obvious interest in their little party. +Wrayson frowned slightly as he returned his greeting.</p> + +<p>"Ah, then, you know him," the Baroness declared. "It is a friend, +without doubt."</p> + +<p>"He belongs to my club," Wrayson answered. "His name is Heneage. I beg +your pardon! I hope that wasn't my fault."</p> + +<p>The Baroness had dropped her lorgnettes on the floor. She stooped +instantly to discover them, rejecting almost peremptorily Wrayson's aid. +When she sat up again she pushed her chair a little further back.</p> + +<p>"It was my clumsiness entirely," she declared. "Ah! it is more restful +here. The lights are a little trying in front. You are wiser than I, my +dear Louise, to have chosen a seat back there."</p> + +<p>She turned towards the girl as she spoke, and Wrayson fancied that there +was some subtle meaning in the swift glance which passed between the two. +Almost involuntarily he leaned forward once more and looked downwards. +Heneage's inscrutable face was still upturned in their direction. There +was nothing to be read there, not even curiosity. As the eyes of the two +men met, Heneage rose and left his seat.</p> + +<p>"You know my friend, perhaps?" Wrayson remarked. "He is rather an +interesting person."</p> + +<p>The Baroness shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"We are cosmopolitans, Louise and I," she remarked. "We wander about so +much that we meet many people whose names even we do not remember. Is it +not so, <i>chérie</i>?"</p> + +<p>Louise assented carelessly. The incident appeared to have interested her +but slightly. She alone seemed to be taking an interest in the +performance, which from the first she had followed closely. More than +once Wrayson had fancied that her attention was only simulated, in order +to avoid conversation.</p> + +<p>"This ballet," she remarked, "is wonderful. I don't believe that you +people have seen any of it—you especially, Amy."</p> + +<p>The Baroness glanced towards the stage.</p> + +<p>"My dear Louise," she said, "you share one great failing with the +majority of your country-people. You cannot do more than one thing at a +time. Now I can watch and talk. Truly, the dresses are ravishing. +Doucet never conceived anything more delightful than that blend of +greens! Tell me about your mysterious-looking friend, Mr. Wrayson. Is +he, too, an editor?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson shook his head.</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth," he said, "I know very little about him. He is +one of those men who seldom talk about themselves. He is a barrister, and +he has written a volume of travels. A clever fellow, I believe, but +possibly without ambition. At any rate, one never hears of his doing +anything now."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," the Baroness remarked, with her eyes upon the stage, "he is +one of those who keep their own counsel, in more ways than one. He does +not look like a man who has no object in life."</p> + +<p>Wrayson glanced downwards at the empty stall.</p> + +<p>"Very likely," he admitted carelessly, "and yet, nowadays, it is a little +difficult, isn't it, to do anything really worth doing, and not be found +out? They say that the press is lynx-eyed."</p> + +<p>Louise leaned a little forward in her chair.</p> + +<p>"And you," she remarked, "are an editor! Do you feel quite safe, Amy? Mr. +Wrayson may rob us of our most cherished secrets."</p> + +<p>Her eyes challenged his, her lips were parted in a slight smile. +Underneath the levity of her remark, he was fully conscious of the +undernote of serious meaning.</p> + +<p>"I am not afraid of Mr. Wrayson," the Baroness answered, smiling. "My age +and my dressmaker are the only two things I keep entirely to myself, and +I don't think he is likely to guess either."</p> + +<p>"And you?" he asked, looking into her companion's eyes.</p> + +<p>"There are many things," she answered, in a low tone, "which one keeps +to oneself, because confidences with regard to them are impossible. +And yet—"</p> + +<p>She paused. Her eyes seemed to be following out the mystic design painted +upon her fan.</p> + +<p>"And yet?" he reminded her under his breath.</p> + +<p>"Yet," she continued, glancing towards the Baroness, and lowering her +voice as though anxious not to be overheard, "there is something +poisonous, I think, about secrets. To have them known without disclosing +them would be very often—a great relief."</p> + +<p>He leaned a little towards her.</p> + +<p>"Is that a challenge?" he asked, "if I can find out?"</p> + +<p>The colour left her face with amazing suddenness. She drew away from him +quickly. Her whisper was almost a moan.</p> + +<p>"No! for God's sake, no!" she murmured. "I meant nothing. You must not +think that I was speaking about myself."</p> + +<p>"I hoped that you were," he answered simply.</p> + +<p>The Baroness turned in her chair as though anxious to join in the +conversation. At that moment came a knock at the door of the box. Wrayson +rose and opened it. Heneage stood there and entered at once, as though +his coming were the most natural thing in the world.</p> + +<p>"Thought I recognized you," he remarked, shaking hands with Wrayson. "I +believe, too, I may be mistaken, but I fancy that I have had the pleasure +of meeting the Baroness de Sturm."</p> + +<p>The Baroness turned towards him with a smile. Nevertheless, Wrayson +noticed what seemed to him a strange thing. The slim-fingered, bejewelled +hand which rested upon the ledge of the box was trembling. The Baroness +was disturbed.</p> + +<p>"At Brussels, I believe," she remarked, inclining her head graciously.</p> + +<p>"At Brussels, certainly," he answered, bowing low.</p> + +<p>She turned to Louise.</p> + +<p>"Louise," she said, "you must let me present Mr. Heneage—Miss Deveney. +Mr. Heneage has a cousin, I believe, of the same name, in the Belgian +Legation. I remember seeing you dance with him at the Palace."</p> + +<p>The two exchanged greetings. Heneage accepted a chair and spoke of the +performance. The conversation became general and of stereotyped form. Yet +Wrayson was uneasily conscious of something underneath it all which he +could not fathom. The atmosphere of the box was charged with some +electrical disturbance. Heneage alone seemed thoroughly at his ease. He +kept his seat until the close of the performance, and even then seemed in +no hurry to depart. Wrayson, however, took his cue from the Baroness, who +was obviously anxious for him to go.</p> + +<p>"Goodnight, Heneage!" he said. "I may see you at the club later."</p> + +<p>Heneage smiled a little oddly as he turned away.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he said.</p> + +<p>It was not until they were on their way out that Wrayson realized that +she was slipping away from him once more. Then he took his courage into +his hands and spoke boldly.</p> + +<p>"I wonder," he said, "if I might be allowed to see you ladies home. I +have something to say to Miss Fitzmaurice," he added simply, turning to +the Baroness.</p> + +<p>"By all means," she answered graciously, "if you don't mind rather an +uncomfortable seat. We are staying in Battersea. It seems a long way out, +but it is quiet, and Louise and I like it."</p> + +<p>"In Battersea?" Wrayson repeated vaguely.</p> + +<p>The Baroness looked over her shoulder. They were standing on the +pavement, waiting for their electric brougham.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she answered, dropping her voice a little, "in Frederic Mansions. +By the bye, we are neighbours, I believe, are we not?"</p> + +<p>"Quite close ones," Wrayson answered. "I live in the next block of +flats."</p> + +<p>The Baroness looked again over her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Your friend, Mr. Heneage, is close behind," she whispered, "and we are +living so quietly, Louise and I, that we do not care for callers. Tell +the man 'home' simply."</p> + +<p>Wrayson obeyed, and the carriage glided off. Heneage had been within a +few feet of them when they had started, and although his attention +appeared to be elsewhere, the Baroness' caution was obviously justified. +She leaned back amongst the cushions with a little sigh of relief.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wrayson," she inquired, "may I ask if Mr. Heneage is a particular +friend of yours?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I do not think that any man could call himself Heneage's particular +friend," he answered. "He is exceedingly reticent about himself and his +doings. He is a man whom none of us know much of."</p> + +<p>The Baroness leaned a little forward.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Heneage," she said slowly, "is associated in my mind with days and +events which, just at present, both Louise and I are only anxious to +forget. He may be everything that he should be. Perhaps I am +prejudiced. But if I were you, I would have as little to do as possible +with that man."</p> + +<p>"We do not often meet," Wrayson answered, "and ours is only a club +acquaintanceship. It is never likely to be more."</p> + +<p>"So much the better," the Baroness declared. "Don't you agree with +me, Louise?"</p> + +<p>"I do not like Mr. Heneage," the girl answered. "But then, I have never +spoken a dozen words to him in my life."</p> + +<p>"You have known him intimately?" Wrayson asked the Baroness.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders and looked out of the window.</p> + +<p>"Never that, quite," she answered. "I know enough of him, however, to be +quite sure that the advice which I have given you is good."</p> + +<p>The carriage drew up in the Albert Road, within a hundred yards or so of +Wrayson's own block of flats. The Baroness alighted first.</p> + +<p>"You must come in and have a whisky and soda," she said to Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"If I may," he answered, looking at Louise.</p> + +<p>The Baroness passed on. Louise, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, +followed her.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X<br /><br /> +OUTCAST</h3> + +<p>The room into which a waiting man servant showed them was large and +handsomely furnished. Whisky and soda, wine and sandwiches were upon the +sideboard. The Baroness, stopping only to light a cigarette, moved +towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I shall return," she said, "in a quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p>She looked for a moment steadily at her friend, and then turned away. +Louise strolled to the sideboard and helped herself to a sandwich.</p> + +<p>"Come and forage, won't you?" she asked carelessly. "There are some +<i>pâté</i> sandwiches here, and you want whisky and soda, of course—or do +you prefer brandy?"</p> + +<p>"Neither, thanks!" Wrayson answered firmly. "I want what I came for. +Please sit down here and answer my questions."</p> + +<p>She laughed a little mockingly, and turning round, faced him, her head +thrown back, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly. The light from a +rose-shaded electric lamp glittered upon her hair. She was wearing black +again, and something in her appearance and attitude almost took his +breath away. It reminded him of the moment when he had seen her first.</p> + +<p>"First," she said, "I am going to ask you a question. Why did you do it?"</p> + +<p>"Do what?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She gave vent to a little gesture of impatience. He must know quite well +what she meant.</p> + +<p>"Why did you give evidence at the inquest and omit all mention of me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," he answered bluntly.</p> + +<p>"You have committed yourself to a story," she reminded him, "which is +certainly not altogether a truthful one. You have run a great risk, +apparently to shield me. Why?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose because I am a fool," he answered bitterly.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No!" she declared, "that is not the reason."</p> + +<p>He moved a step nearer to her.</p> + +<p>"If I were to admit my folly," he said, "what difference would it +make—if I were to tell you that I did it to save you—the inconvenience +of an examination into the motive for your presence in Morris Barnes' +rooms that night—what then?"</p> + +<p>"It was generous of you," she declared softly. "I ought to thank you."</p> + +<p>"I want no thanks," he answered, almost roughly. "I want to know that I +was justified in what I did. I want you to tell me what you were doing +there alone in the rooms of such a man, with a stolen key. And I want you +to tell me what you know about his death."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it enough?" he declared savagely. "It is enough to be making an +old man of me, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"You have a right to ask these questions," she admitted slowly, "and I +have no right to refuse to answer them."</p> + +<p>"None at all," he declared. "You shall answer them."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. She leaned a little further back against +the sideboard. Her eyes were fixed upon his, but her face was +inscrutable.</p> + +<p>"I cannot," she said slowly. "I can tell you nothing."</p> + +<p>Wrayson was speechless for a moment. It was not only the words +themselves, but the note of absolute finality with which they were +uttered, which staggered him. Then he found himself laughing, a sound +so unnatural and ominous that, for the first time, fear shone in the +girl's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Don't," she cried, and her hands flashed towards him for a moment +as though the sight of him hurt her. "Don't be angry! Have pity on +me instead."</p> + +<p>His nerves, already overwrought, gave way.</p> + +<p>"Pity on a murderess, a thief!" he cried. "Not I! I have suffered enough +for my folly. I will go and tell the truth to-morrow. It was you who +killed him. You did it in the cab and stole back to his rooms to +rob—afterwards. Horrible! Horrible!"</p> + +<p>Her face hardened. His lack of self-control seemed to stimulate her.</p> + +<p>"Have it so," she declared. "I never asked you for your silence. If you +repent it, go and make the best bargain you can with the law. They will +let you off cheaply in exchange for your information!"</p> + +<p>He walked the length of the room and back. Anything to escape from her +eyes. Already he hated the words which he had spoken. When he faced her +again he was master of himself.</p> + +<p>"Listen," he said; "I was a little overwrought. I spoke wildly. I have no +right to make such an accusation. But—"</p> + +<p>She held out her hand as though to stop him, but he went steadily on.</p> + +<p>"But I have a right to demand that you tell me the truth as to what you +were doing in Barnes' rooms that night, and what you know of his death. +Remember that but for me you would have had to tell your story to a less +sympathetic audience."</p> + +<p>"I never forget it," she answered, and for the first time her change to a +more natural tone helped him to believe in himself and his own judgment. +"If you want me to tell you how grateful I am, I might try, but it would +be a very hard task."</p> + +<p>"All that I ask of you," he pleaded, "is that you tell me enough to +convince me that my silence was justified. Tell me at least that you had +no knowledge of or share in that man's death!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot do that," she answered.</p> + +<p>He took a quick step backwards. The horror once more was chilling his +blood, floating before his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You cannot!" he repeated hoarsely.</p> + +<p>"No! I knew that the man was in danger of his life," she went on, calmly. +"On the whole, I think that he deserved to die. I do not mind telling you +this, though. I would have saved him if I could."</p> + +<p>He drew a great breath of relief.</p> + +<p>"You had nothing to do with his actual death, then?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing whatever," she declared.</p> + +<p>"It was all I asked you, this," he cried reproachfully. "Why could you +not have told me before?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"You asked me other things," she answered calmly. "So much of the truth +you shall know, at any rate. I have pleaded not guilty to the material +action of drawing that cord around the worthless neck of the man whom you +knew as Morris Barnes. I plead guilty to knowing why he was murdered, +even if I do not know the actual person who committed the deed, and I +admit that I was in his rooms for the purpose of robbery. That is all I +can tell you."</p> + +<p>He drew a little nearer to her.</p> + +<p>"Enough! Do you know what it is that you have said? What are you? +Who are you?"</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders. Somehow, from her side at least, the tragical +note which had trembled throughout their interview had passed away. She +helped herself to soda water from a siphon on the sideboard.</p> + +<p>"You appear, somewhat to my surprise," she remarked, "to know that. I +wonder at poor little Edith giving me away."</p> + +<p>"All that I know is that you are living here under a false name," +he declared.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"My mother's," she told him. "The discarded daughter always has a right +to that, you know."</p> + +<p>Her eyes mocked him. He felt himself helpless. This was the opportunity +for which he had longed, and it had come to him in vain. He recognized +the fact that his defeat was imminent. She was too strong for him.</p> + +<p>"I am disappointed," he said, a little wearily. "You will not let me +believe in you."</p> + +<p>"Why should you wish to?" she asked quickly</p> + +<p>Almost immediately she bit her lip, as though she regretted the words, +which had escaped her almost involuntarily. But he was ready enough with +his answer.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you that," he said gravely. "I never thought of myself as +a particularly emotional person. In fact, I have always rather prided +myself on my common sense. That night I think that I went a little mad. +Your appearance, you see, was so unusual."</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"I must have been rather a shock to you," she admitted.</p> + +<p>She watched him closely. The fire in his eyes was not yet quenched.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he said, "you were a shock. And the worst of it is—that you +remain one!"</p> + +<p>"Ah!"</p> + +<p>"You mean to keep me at arm's length," he said slowly, "to tell me as +little as possible, and get rid of me. I am not sure that I am willing."</p> + +<p>She only raised her eyebrows. She said nothing.</p> + +<p>"You have told me nothing of the things I want to know," he cried +passionately. "Who and what are you? What place do you hold in the +world?"</p> + +<p>"None," she answered quietly. "I am an outcast."</p> + +<p>He glanced around him.</p> + +<p>"You are rich!"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," she assured him, "I am nearly a pauper."</p> + +<p>"How do you live, then?" he asked breathlessly.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Why do you ask me these questions?" she said. "I cannot answer them. +Whatever my life may be, I live it to myself."</p> + +<p>He leaned a little towards her. His breath was coming quickly, and she, +too, caught something of the nervous excitement of his manner.</p> + +<p>"There are better things," he began.</p> + +<p>"Not for me," she interrupted quickly. "I tell you that I am an +outcast. Of you, I ask only that you go away—now—before the Baroness +returns, and do your best to blot out the memory of that one night +from your life. Remember only that you did a generous action. Remember +that, and no more."</p> + +<p>"Too late," he answered; "I cannot do it."</p> + +<p>"You are a man," she answered, "and you say that?"</p> + +<p>"It is because I am a man, and you are what you are, that I cannot," he +answered slowly.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's breathless silence. Only he fancied that her face +had somehow grown softer.</p> + +<p>"You must not talk like that," she said. "You do not know what you are +saying—who or what I am. Listen! I think I hear the Baroness."</p> + +<p>She leaned a little forward, and the madness fired his blood. Half +stupefied, she yielded to his embrace, her lips rested upon his, her +frightened eyes were half closed. His arms held her like a vice, he could +feel her heart throbbing madly against his. How long they remained like +it he never knew—who can measure the hours spent in Paradise! She flung +him from her at last, taking him by surprise with a sudden burst of +energy, and before he could stop her she had left the room. In her place, +the Baroness was standing upon the threshold, dressed in a wonderful blue +wrapper, and with a cigarette between her teeth. She burst into a little +peal of laughter as she looked into his distraught face.</p> + +<p>"For an Englishman," she remarked, "you are a little rapid in your +love affairs, my dear Mr. Wrayson, is it not so? So she has left you +<i>planté là</i>!"</p> + +<p>"I—was mad," Wrayson muttered.</p> + +<p>The Baroness helped herself to whisky and soda.</p> + +<p>"Come again and make your peace, my friend," she said. "You will see no +more of her to-night."</p> + +<p>Wrayson accepted the hint and went.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI<br /><br /> +FALSE SENTIMENT</h3> + +<p>With his nerves strung to their utmost point of tension Wrayson walked +homeward with the unseeing eyes and mechanical footsteps of a man unable +as yet fully to collect his scattered senses. But for him the events of +the evening were not yet over. He had no sooner turned the key in the +latch of his door and entered his sitting-room, than he became aware of +the fact that he had a visitor. The air was fragrant with tobacco smoke; +a man rose deliberately from the easy-chair, and, throwing the ash from +his cigarette into the fire, turned to greet him. Wrayson was so +astonished that he could only gasp out his name.</p> + +<p>"Heneage!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Heneage nodded. Of the two, he was by far the more at his ease.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to see you, Wrayson," he said, "and I persuaded your +housekeeper—with some difficulty—to let me wait for your arrival. Can +you spare me a few minutes?"</p> + +<p>"Of course," Wrayson answered. "Sit down. Will you have anything?"</p> + +<p>Heneage shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Not just now, thanks!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson took off his hat and coat, threw them upon the table, and lit a +cigarette.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "what is it?"</p> + +<p>"I have come," Heneage said quietly, "to offer you some very good +advice. You are run down, and you look it. You need a change. I should +recommend a sea voyage, the longer the better. They say that your paper +is making a lot of money. Why not a voyage round the world?"</p> + +<p>"What the devil do you mean?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>Heneage flicked off the ash from his cigarette, and looked for a moment +thoughtfully into the fire.</p> + +<p>"Three weeks ago last Thursday, I think it was," he began, reflectively, +"I had supper with Austin at the Green Room Club, after the theatre. He +persuaded me, rather against my will, I remember, for I was tired that +night, to go home with him and make a fourth at bridge. Austin's flat, as +you know, is just below here, on the Albert Road."</p> + +<p>Wrayson stopped smoking. The cigarette burned unheeded between his +fingers. His eyes were fixed upon his visitor.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said.</p> + +<p>"We played five rubbers," Heneage continued, still looking into the fire; +"it may have been six. I left somewhere in the small hours of the +morning, and walked along the Albert Road on the unlit side of the +street. As I passed the corner here, I saw a hansom waiting before your +door, and you—with somebody else, standing on the pavement."</p> + +<p>"Anything else?" Wrayson demanded.</p> + +<p>"No!" Heneage answered. "I saw you, I saw the lady, and I saw the cab. +It was a cold morning, and I am not naturally a curious person. I +hurried on."</p> + +<p>Wrayson picked up the cigarette, which had fallen from his fingers, and +sat down. He could scarcely believe that this was not a dream—that it +was indeed Stephen Heneage who sat opposite to him, Heneage the +impenetrable, whose calm, measured words left no indication whatever as +to his motive in making this amazing revelation.</p> + +<p>"You are naturally wondering," Heneage continued, "why, having seen what +I did see, I kept silence. I followed your lead, because I fancied, in +the first place, that the presence of that young lady was a personal +affair of your own, and that she could have no possible connection with +the tragedy itself. You were evidently disposed to shield her and +yourself at the same time. I considered your attitude reasonable, if a +little dangerous. No man is obliged to give himself away in matters of +this sort, and I am no scandalmonger. The situation, however, has +undergone a change."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"To-night," Heneage said calmly, "I recognized your nocturnal visitor +with the Baroness de Sturm.</p> + +<p>"And what of that?" Wrayson demanded.</p> + +<p>Heneage, who was leaning back in his chair, looking into the fire with +half closed eyes, straightened himself, and turned directly towards his +companion.</p> + +<p>"How much do you know about the Baroness de Sturm?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all," Wrayson answered. "I met her for the first time +to-night."</p> + +<p>Heneage looked back into the fire.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he murmured. "I thought that it might be so. The young lady is +perhaps an old friend?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot discuss her," Wrayson answered. "I can only say that I will +answer for her innocence as regards any complicity in the murder of +Morris Barnes."</p> + +<p>Heneage nodded sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"Still," he remarked, "the man was murdered."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," Wrayson admitted.</p> + +<p>"And in a most mysterious manner," Heneage continued. "You have gathered, +I dare say, from your knowledge of me, that these affairs always interest +me immensely. I am almost as great a crank as the Colonel. I have been +thinking over this case a great deal, but I must confess that up to +to-night I have not been able to see a gleam of daylight. I had dismissed +the young lady from my mind. Now, however, I cannot do so."</p> + +<p>"Simply because you saw her with the Baroness de Sturm?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"They are living together," Heneage reminded him, "a condition which +naturally makes for a certain amount of intimacy."</p> + +<p>"Do you know anything against the Baroness?" Wrayson demanded.</p> + +<p>"Against her?" Heneage repeated thoughtfully. "Well, that depends."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to insinuate that she is an adventuress?" Wrayson +asked bluntly.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Heneage replied. "She is a representative of one of the +oldest families in Europe, a <i>persona grata</i> at the Court of her country, +and an intimate friend of Queen Helena's. She is by no means an +adventuress."</p> + +<p>"Then why," Wrayson asked, "should you attach such significance to the +fact of her friendship with Miss Deveney?"</p> + +<p>"Because," Heneage remarked, lighting another cigarette, "I happen to +know that the Baroness is at present under the strictest police +surveillance!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson started. Heneage's first statement had reassured him: his later +one was simply terrifying. He stared at his visitor in dumb alarm.</p> + +<p>"I came to know of this in rather a curious way," Heneage continued. "My +information, in fact, came direct from her own country. She is being +watched with extraordinary care, in connection with some affair of which +I must confess that I know nothing. She is staying in London, a city +which I happen to know she detests, without any ostensible reason. Of all +parts, she has chosen Battersea as a place of residence. It is her +companion whom I saw leaving your flat at three o'clock on the morning of +Barnes' murder. I am bound to say, Wrayson, that I find these facts +interesting."</p> + +<p>"Why have you come to me?" Wrayson asked. "What are you going to do +about them?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to set myself the task of solving the mystery of Morris +Barnes' death," Heneage answered calmly. "If I succeed, I am very much +afraid that, directly or indirectly, the presence of Miss Deveney in the +flats that night will become known."</p> + +<p>"And you advise me, therefore," Wrayson remarked, "to take a voyage—in +plain words, to clear out."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," Heneage agreed.</p> + +<p>Wrayson threw his cigarette angrily into the fire.</p> + +<p>"What the devil business is it of yours?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>Heneage looked at him steadily.</p> + +<p>"Wrayson," he said, "I am sorry that you should use that tone with me. I +am no moralist. I admit frankly that I take this matter up because my +personal tastes prompt me to. But murder, however great the provocation, +is an indefensible thing."</p> + +<p>"I am not seeking to justify it," Wrayson declared.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to hear that," Heneage answered. "I cannot believe, either, +that you would shield any one directly or indirectly connected with such +a crime. I am going to ask you, therefore, to tell me what Miss Deveney +was doing in these flats on that particular evening."</p> + +<p>Wrayson was silent. In the light of what he had just been told about the +Baroness, he knew very well how Heneage would regard the truth. Of +course, she was innocent, innocent of the deed itself and of all +knowledge of it. But Heneage did not know her; he would be hard to +convince. So Wrayson shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you nothing," he said. "I admit frankly my sympathies are not +with you. I should not say a word likely to bring even inconvenience upon +Miss Deveney."</p> + +<p>"Dare you tell me," Heneage asked calmly, "that her visit was to you? +No! I thought not," he added, as Wrayson remained silent. "I believe +that that young lady could solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' death, if +she chose."</p> + +<p>Then Wrayson had an idea. At any rate, the disclosure would do no harm.</p> + +<p>"Do you know who Miss Deveney is?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Heneage looked across at him quickly.</p> + +<p>"Do you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes! She is the eldest daughter of the Colonel!"</p> + +<p>"Our Colonel?" Heneage exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"Her real name is Miss Fitzmaurice," he said. "Her mother's name +was Deveney."</p> + +<p>Heneage looked incredulous.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure about this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely," Wrayson answered. "I saw her picture the day of the garden +party, and I recognized her at once. There is no doubt about it +whatever. She and the Baroness were schoolfellows in Brussels. There is +no mystery about their friendship at all."</p> + +<p>Heneage was thoughtful for several moments.</p> + +<p>"This is interesting," he said at last, "but it does not, of course, +affect the situation."</p> + +<p>"You mean that you will go on just the same?" Wrayson demanded.</p> + +<p>"Certainly! And it rests with you to say whether you will be on my side +or theirs," Heneage declared. "If you are on mine, you will tell me what +Miss Deveney was doing in these flats on that night of all others. If you +are on theirs, you will go and warn them that I am determined to solve +the mystery of Morris Barnes' death—at all costs."</p> + +<p>"I had no idea," Wrayson remarked quietly, "that you were ambitious to +shine as an amateur policeman."</p> + +<p>"We all have our hobbies," Heneage answered. "Take the Colonel, for +instance, the most harmless, the most good-natured man who ever lived. +Nothing in the world fascinates him so much as the details of a tragedy +like this, however gruesome they may be. I have seen him handle a +murderer's knife as though he loved it. His favourite museum is the +professional Chamber of Horrors in Scotland Yard. My own interests run in +a slightly different direction. I like to look at an affair of this sort +as a chess problem, and to set myself to solve it. I like to make a +silent study of all the characters around, to search for motives and +dissect evidence. Human nature has its secrets, and very wonderful +secrets too."</p> + +<p>"I once," Wrayson said thoughtfully, "saw a man tracked down by +bloodhounds. My sympathies were with the man."</p> + +<p>Heneage nodded.</p> + +<p>"Your view of life," he remarked, "was always a sentimental one."</p> + +<p>"No correct view," Wrayson declared, "can ignore sentiment."</p> + +<p>"Granted; but it must be true sentiment, not false," Heneage said. "This +sentiment which interferes with justice is false sentiment."</p> + +<p>"Justice is altogether an arbitrary, a relative phrase," Wrayson +declared. "I know no more about the case of Morris Barnes than you do. I +knew the man by sight and repute, and I knew the manner of his life, and +it seems to me a likely thing that there is more human justice about his +death than in the punishing the person who compassed it."</p> + +<p>"There are cases of that sort," Heneage admitted. "That is the advantage +of being an amateur, like myself. My discoveries, if I make any, are my +own. I am not bound to publish them."</p> + +<p>Wrayson smiled a little bitterly.</p> + +<p>"You would be less than human if you didn't," he said.</p> + +<p>Heneage rose to his feet and began putting on his coat. Wrayson remained +in his seat, without offering to help him.</p> + +<p>"So I may take it, I suppose," he said, as he moved towards the door, +"that my visit to you is a failure?"</p> + +<p>"I have not the slightest idea of running away, if that is what you +mean," Wrayson answered. "I am obliged to you for your warning, but what +I did I am prepared to stand by."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," Heneage answered. "Good night!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII<br /><br /> +TIDINGS FROM THE CAPE</h3> + +<p>Wrayson paused for a moment in his work to answer the telephone which +stood upon his table.</p> + +<p>"What is it?" he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>His manager spoke to him from the offices below.</p> + +<p>"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is a young man here who won't go +away without seeing you. His name is Barnes, and he says that he has just +arrived from South Africa."</p> + +<p>It was a busy morning with Wrayson, for in an hour or so the paper went +to press, but he did not hesitate for a moment.</p> + +<p>"I will see him," he declared. "Bring him up yourself."</p> + +<p>Wrayson laid down the telephone. Morris Barnes had come from South +Africa. It was a common name enough, and yet, from the first, he was sure +that this was some relative. What was the object of his visit? The ideas +chased one another through his brain. Was he, too, an avenger?</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the door, and the clerk from downstairs ushered in +his visitor. Wrayson could scarcely repress a start. It was a younger +edition of Morris Barnes who stood there, with an ingratiating smile upon +his pale face, a trifle more Semitic in appearance, perhaps, but in other +respects the likeness was almost startling. It extended even to the +clothes, for Wrayson recognized with a start a purple and white tie of +particularly loud pattern. The cut of his coat, the glossiness of his hat +and boots, too, were all strikingly reminiscent of the dead man.</p> + +<p>His visitor was becoming nervous under Wrayson's close scrutiny. His +manner betrayed a curious mixture of diffidence and assurance. He seemed +overanxious to create a favourable impression.</p> + +<p>"I took the liberty of coming to see you, Mr. Wrayson," he said, twisting +his hat round in his hand. "My name is Barnes, Sydney Barnes. Morris +Barnes was my brother."</p> + +<p>Wrayson pointed to a chair, into which his visitor subsided with +exaggerated expressions of gratitude. He had very small black eyes, set +very close together, and he blinked continually. The more Wrayson studied +him, the less prepossessing he found him.</p> + +<p>"What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"I have just come from Cape Town," the young man said. "Such a shock it +was to me—about my poor brother! Oh! such a shock!"</p> + +<p>"How did you hear about it?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"Just a newspaper—I read an account of it all. It did give me a turn and +no mistake. Directly I'd finished, I went and booked my passage on the +<i>Dunottar Castle.</i> I had a very fair berth over there—two quid a week, +but I felt I must come home at once. Fact is," he continued, looking down +at his trousers, "I had no time to get my own togs together. I was so +anxious, you see. That's why I'm wearing some of poor Morris's."</p> + +<p>"Are you the only relative?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"'Pon my sam, I am," the other answered with emphasis. "We hadn't a +relation in the world. Father and mother died ten years ago, and Morris +and I were the only two. Anything that poor Morris possessed belongs to +me, sure! There's no one else to claim a farthing's worth. You must know +that yourself, Mr. Wrayson, eh?"</p> + +<p>"If, as you say, you are the only relative, your brother's effects, of +course, belong to you," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"It's a sure thing," the young man declared. "I've been to the landlord +of the flat, and he gave me up the keys at once. There's only one +quarter's rent owing. Pretty stiff though—isn't it? Fifty pounds!"</p> + +<p>"Your brother's was a furnished flat, I believe," Wrayson answered. "That +makes a difference, of course."</p> + +<p>The young man's face fell.</p> + +<p>"Then the furniture wasn't his?" he remarked.</p> + +<p>Wrayson shook his head.</p> + +<p>"No! the furniture belongs to the landlord. There will be an inventory, +of course, and you will be able to find out if anything was your +brother's."</p> + +<p>It was obvious that Mr. Sydney Barnes had not as yet entered upon the +purpose of his visit. He fidgeted for a moment or two with his hat, and +looked up at Wrayson, only to look nervously away again. To set him more +at his ease, Wrayson lit a cigarette and passed the box over.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Mr. Wrayson! Thank you, sir!" his visitor exclaimed. "You +see I'm a smoker," he added, holding up his yellow-stained forefinger. +"That is, I smoke when I can afford to. Things have been pretty dicky +out in South Africa lately, you know. Terrible hard it has been to make +a living."</p> + +<p>"Your brother was supposed to have done pretty well out there," Wrayson +remarked, more for the sake of keeping the conversation alive than +anything. The effect of his words, however, was electrical. Mr. Sydney +Barnes leaned over from his chair, and his little black eyes twinkled +like polished beads.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wrayson," he declared, "a week before he sailed for England, Morris +was on his uppers! He was caught in Johannesburg when the war broke out, +and he had to stay there. When he turned up in Cape Town again, his own +mother wouldn't have known him. He was in rags—he'd come down on a +freight—he hadn't a scrap of luggage, or a copper to his name. That was +Morris when he came to me in Cape Town!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson was listening attentively; he almost feared to let his visitor +see how interested he was.</p> + +<p>"He was fair done in!" the young man continued. "He never had the pluck +of a chicken, and the night he found me in Cape Town he cried like a +baby. He had lost everything, he said. It was no use staying in the +country any longer. He was wild to get back to England. And yet, do you +know, sir, all the time I had the idea that he was keeping something back +from me. And he was! He was, too! The—!"</p> + +<p>He stopped short. The vindictiveness of his countenance supplied +the epithet.</p> + +<p>"You'll excuse me if I'm a bit excited, Mr. Wrayson," he continued. "I'll +leave you to judge how I've been served when you hear all. He got over +me, and I lent him nearly half of my savings, and he started back to +England. He took this flat at two hundred pounds a year the very week he +got back, and he's lived, from what I can hear, like a lord ever since. +Will you believe this, sir! He sent back the money he borrowed from me a +quid at a time, and wrote me to say he was saving it with great +difficulty—out of his salary of three pounds a week. When he'd paid back +the lot, I never heard another line from him. I was doing rotten myself, +and he knew well enough that I should have been over first steamer if I'd +known about his two hundred a year flat, and all the rest of it. What do +you think of my brother, sir, eh? What do you think of him? Treated me +nicely, didn't he? Nine pounds ten it was I lent him, and nine pounds ten +was all I had back, and here he was living like a duke, and lying to me +about his three pounds a week; and there was I hawkering groceries on a +barrow, selling sham diamonds, any blooming thing to get a mouthful to +eat. Nice sort of brother that, eh? What?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson repressed an inclination to smile. There was something grimly +humourous about his visitor's indignation.</p> + +<p>"You must remember," he said, "that your brother is dead, and that his +death itself was a terrible one. Besides, even if you have had to wait +for a little time, you are his heir now."</p> + +<p>The young man was breathing hard. The perspiration stood out in little +beads upon his forehead. He showed his teeth a little. He was becoming +more and more unpleasant to look upon as his excitement increased.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Mr. Wrayson!" he exclaimed. "I'm coming to that. I've been +through his things. Clothes! I never saw such a collection. All from a +West End tailor, too! And boots! Patent, with white tops; pumps, +everything slap up! Heaven knows what he must have spent upon his +clothes. Bills from restaurants, too; why, he seems to have thought +nothing of spending a quid or two on a dinner or a supper. Photographs +of ladies, little notes asking him to tea; why, between you and me, Mr. +Wrayson, sir, he was living like a prince! And look here!"</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet and planked down a bank-book on the desk in front +of Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"Look here, sir," he declared. "Every three months, within a day or two, +cash—five hundred pounds. Here you are. Here's the last: March +27—cash, £500! Look back! January 1—By cash £500! October 2—cash, +£500! There you are, right back to the very day he arrived in England. +And he left South Africa with ten bob of mine in his pocket, after he'd +paid his passage! and from what I can hear, he never did a day's work +after he landed. And me over there working thirteen and fourteen hours a +day, and half the time stony-broke! There's a brother for you! Cain was +a fool to him!"</p> + +<p>"But you must remember that after all you are going to reap the benefit +of it now," Wrayson remarked.</p> + +<p>"Ah! but am I?" the young man exclaimed fiercely. "That's what I want to +know. Look here! I've been through every letter and every scrap of paper +I can find, I've been to the bank and to his few pals, and strike me dead +if I can find where that five hundred pounds came from every three +months! It was in gold always; he must have gone and changed it +somewhere—five hundred golden sovereigns every three months, and I can't +find where they came from!"</p> + +<p>"Have you been to a solicitor?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"Not yet," the young man answered. "I don't see what good he'll be when I +do. Morris was always one of the close sort, and I can't fancy him +spending much over lawyers."</p> + +<p>"What made you come to me?" Wrayson inquired.</p> + +<p>"Well, the caretaker at the flat told me that you and Morris used to +speak now and then, and I'm trying every one. I'm afraid he wasn't quite +classy enough for you to have palled up with, but I thought he might have +let something slip perhaps."</p> + +<p>Wrayson shook his head.</p> + +<p>"He never spoke to me of his affairs," he said. "He always seemed to have +plenty of money, though."</p> + +<p>"Doesn't the bank-book prove it?" the young man exclaimed excitedly. +"Every one who knew anything about him says the same. There was I half +starved in Cape Town, and here was he spending two thousand a year. +Beast, he was! I'll find out where it came from if it takes me a +lifetime."</p> + +<p>Wrayson leaned back in his chair. Nothing since the events of that night +itself had appealed to him more than the coming of this young man and his +strange story.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that I have no information to give you," he said. "On the +other hand, if I can help you in any other way I shall be very glad."</p> + +<p>"What should you advise me to do?" the young man asked.</p> + +<p>"I should like to think the matter over carefully," Wrayson answered. +"What are your engagements for to-day? Can you lunch with me?"</p> + +<p>"I have no engagements," his visitor answered eagerly. "When and +what time?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson repressed a smile.</p> + +<p>"I shall be ready in twenty minutes," he answered. "We will go out +together if you don't mind waiting."</p> + +<p>"I'm on," Mr. Sydney Barnes declared, crossing his legs. "Don't you hurry +on my account. I'll wait as long as you like."</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII<br /><br /> +SEARCHING THE CHAMBERS</h3> + +<p>Wrayson took his guest to a popular restaurant, where there was music and +a five-course luncheon for three and six. Their conversation during the +earlier part of the meal was limited, for Mr. Sydney Barnes showed +himself possessed of an appetite which his host contemplated with +respectful admiration. His sallow cheeks became flushed and his +nervousness had subsided, long before the arrival of the coffee.</p> + +<p>"I say, this is all right, this place is," he said, leaning back in his +chair with a large cigar between his teeth. "Jolly expensive, I suppose, +isn't it?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson smiled.</p> + +<p>"It depends," he answered. "I don't suppose your brother would have found +it so. A bachelor can do himself pretty well on two thousand a year."</p> + +<p>"I only hope I get hold of it," Mr. Sydney Barnes declared fervently. +"This is the way I should like to live, this is."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will," Wrayson answered. "An income of that sort could +scarcely disappear into thin air, could it? By the bye, Mr. Barnes, that +reminds me of a very important circumstance which, up to now, we have not +mentioned. I mean the way your brother met with his death."</p> + +<p>The young man nodded thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he remarked, "he was murdered, wasn't he? Some one must have owed +him a nasty grudge. Morris always was a one to make enemies."</p> + +<p>"I don't know whether the same thing has occurred to you," Wrayson +continued, "but I can't help wondering whether there may not have been +some connection between his death and that mysterious income of his."</p> + +<p>"I've thought of that myself," the young man declared. "All the same, +I can't see what he could have carried about with him worth two +thousand a year."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," Wrayson answered, "but you see the matter stands like this. He +was in receipt of about £500 every three months, as his bank-book proves. +This sum would represent five per cent interest on forty thousand pounds. +Now, considering your brother's position when he left you at Cape Town, +and the fact that you cannot discover at his bankers or elsewhere any +documents alluding to property or shares of any sort, one can scarcely +help dismissing the hypothesis that this payment was the result of +dividends or interest. At any rate, let us put that out of the question +for the moment. Your brother received five hundred pounds every three +months from some one. People don't give money away for nothing nowadays, +you know. From whom and for what services did he receive that money?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Sydney Barnes looked puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Ask me another," he remarked facetiously.</p> + +<p>"You do not know of any secrets, I suppose, which your brother may have +stumbled into possession of?"</p> + +<p>"Not I! He went about with his eyes open and his mouth closed, but I +never heard of his having that sort of luck."</p> + +<p>"He could not have had any adventures on the steamer, for he came back +steerage," Wrayson continued thoughtfully, "and he was in funds almost +from the moment he landed in England. I am afraid, Mr. Barnes, that he +must have been deceiving you in Cape Town."</p> + +<p>"If I could only have a dozen words with him!" the young man +muttered savagely.</p> + +<p>"It would be useful," Wrayson admitted, "but, unfortunately, it is out of +the question. Either he was deceiving you, or he was in possession of +something which turned out far more valuable than he had imagined."</p> + +<p>"If so, where is it?" Mr. Sydney Barnes demanded. "If it was worth that +to him, it may be to me."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," Wrayson remarked, "but the question of your brother's +murder comes in there. People don't commit a crime like that for +nothing, you know. If it was information which your brother had, it +died with him. If it was documents, they were probably stolen by the +person who killed him."</p> + +<p>"Come, that's cheerful," the young man declared ruefully. "If you're +guessing right, where do I come in?"</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you don't come in," Wrayson answered; "but remember I am only +following out a surmise. Have you looked through your brother's papers +carefully?"</p> + +<p>"I've gone through 'em all," Mr. Sydney Barnes answered, "but, of course, +I was looking for scrip or a memorandum of investments, or something of +that sort. Perhaps if a clever chap like you were to go through them, you +might come across a clue."</p> + +<p>"It seems hard to believe that he shouldn't have left something of the +sort behind him," Wrayson answered. "It might be only an address, or a +name, or anything."</p> + +<p>"Will you come round with me and see?" Mr. Barnes demanded eagerly. "It +wouldn't take you long. You're welcome to see everything there is there."</p> + +<p>Wrayson called for the bill.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said, "we will take a hansom round there at once."</p> + +<p>They left the place a few minutes later, and drove to Battersea.</p> + +<p>"There's a quarter to run, the landlord says, so I'm staying here," +Barnes explained, as he unlocked the front door. "I can't afford a +servant or anything of that sort of course, but I shall just sleep here."</p> + +<p>The rooms had a ghostly and unkempt appearance. The atmosphere of the +sitting-room was stuffy and redolent of stale tobacco smoke. Wrayson's +first action was to throw open the window.</p> + +<p>"There isn't a sign of a paper anywhere, except in that desk," the young +man remarked. "You'll find things in a mess, but whatever was there is +there now. I've destroyed nothing."</p> + +<p>Wrayson seated himself before the desk, and began a careful search. There +were restaurant bills without number, and a variety of ladies' cards, +more or less soiled. There were Empire and Alhambra programmes, a bundle +of racing wires, and an account from a bookmaker showing a small debit +balance. There were other miscellaneous bills, a plaintive epistle from a +lady signing herself Flora, and begging for the loan of a fiver for a +week, and an invitation to tea from a spinster who called herself Poppy. +Amongst all this mass of miscellaneous documents there were only three +which Wrayson laid on one side for further consideration. One of these +was a note, dated from the Adelphi a few days before the tragedy, and +written in a stiff, legal hand. It contained only a few lines:</p> + +<p>"DEAR SIR,—</p> + +<p>"My client will be happy to meet you at any time on Thursday you may be +pleased to appoint, either here or at your own address. Please reply, +making an appointment, by return of post.</p> + +<p>"Yours faithfully,</p> + +<p>"W. BENTHAM."</p> + +<p>The second document was also in the shape of a letter from a firm of +private detective agents and was dated only a day earlier than the +lawyer's letter. It ran as follows:</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR SIR,—</p> + +<p>"In reply to your inquiry, our charges for watching a single person in +London only are three guineas a day, including all expenses. For that +sum we can guarantee that the person with whose movements you desire to +keep in touch will be closely shadowed from roof to roof, so long as +the person remains within seven miles of Charing Cross. A daily report +will be made to you, and should legal proceedings ensue from any +information procured by us, you may rely upon any witness whom we might +place in the box.</p> + +<p>"Trusting to hear from you,</p> + +<p>"We are, yours sincerely,</p> + +<p>"McKENNA & FOULDS."</p> + +<p>The third document which Wrayson had preserved was the Cunard sailing +list for the current month, the plan of a steamer which sailed within a +week of the murder, and a few lines from the steamship office respecting +accommodation.</p> + +<p>"These, at any rate, will give you something to do," Wrayson remarked. +"You can go to the lawyer and find out who his client was who desired to +see your brother. There is a chance there! You can go to McKenna & Foulds +and find out who it was whom he wanted shadowed, and you can go to the +Cunard office and see whether he really intended sailing for America."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sydney Barnes looked a little doubtful.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he suggested timidly, "you couldn't spare the time to go +round to these places with me? You see, I'm not much class over here, +even in Morris's togs. They'd take more notice of you, being a gentleman. +Good God! what's that?"</p> + +<p>Both men had started, for the sound was unexpected. Some one was fitting +a latch-key into the door!</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV<br /><br /> +THE DEAD MAN'S BROTHER</h3> + +<p>At the sight of the two men who awaited her entrance, the Baroness +stopped short. Whatever alarm or surprise she may have felt at their +presence was effectually concealed from them by the thick veil which she +wore, through which her features were undistinguishable. As though +purposely, she left to them the onus of speech.</p> + +<p>Wrayson took a quick step towards her.</p> + +<p>"Baroness!" he exclaimed. "What are you—I beg your pardon, but what are +you doing here?"</p> + +<p>She raised her veil and looked at them both attentively. In her hand she +still held the latch-key by means of which she entered.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," she answered quietly, "I was just going to ask you the +same thing."</p> + +<p>"Our presence is easily explained," Wrayson answered. "This is Mr. Sydney +Barnes, the brother of the Mr. Barnes who used to live here. He is +keeping the flat on for a short time."</p> + +<p>The Baroness was surprised, and showed it. Without a moment's hesitation, +however, she accepted Wrayson's words as an introduction to the young +man, and held out her hand to him with a brilliant smile.</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Barnes," she said, "even under such +painful circumstances. I knew your brother very well, and I have heard +him speak of you."</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 260px;"> +<a name="at" id="at"></a> +<img src="images/illp092.jpg" width="260" height="400" alt=""AT THE SIGHT OF THE TWO MEN, THE BARONESS STOPPED SHORT"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"AT THE SIGHT OF THE TWO MEN, THE BARONESS STOPPED SHORT"</span> +</div> + +<p>Mr. Sydney Barnes did not attempt to conceal his surprise. He shook +hands with the Baroness, however, and regarded her with undisguised +admiration.</p> + +<p>"Well, this licks me!" he exclaimed frankly. "Do you mean to say that you +were a friend of Morris's?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," the Baroness answered. "Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I don't know," the young man declared. "I'm getting past being +surprised at anything. I suppose it's the oof that makes the difference. +A friend of Morris's, you said. Why, perhaps—" He hesitated, and glanced +towards Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"There is no harm in asking the Baroness, at any rate," Wrayson said. +"The fact of the matter is," he continued, turning towards her, "that Mr. +Sydney Barnes here finds himself in a somewhat extraordinary position. He +is the sole relative and heir of his brother, and he has come over here +from South Africa, naturally enough, to take possession of his effects. +Now there is no doubt, from his bank-book, and his manner of life, that +Morris Barnes was possessed of a considerable income. According to his +bank-book it was £2,000 a year."</p> + +<p>The Baroness nodded thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"He told me once that he was worth as much as that," she remarked,</p> + +<p>"Exactly, but the curious part of the affair is that, up to the present, +Mr. Sydney Barnes has been unable to discover the slightest trace of any +investments or any sum of money whatever. Now can you help us? Did +Morris Barnes ever happen to mention to you in what direction his +capital was invested? Did he ever give you any idea at all as to the +source of his income?"</p> + +<p>The Baroness stood quite still, as though lost in thought. Wrayson +watched her with a curious sense of fascination. He knew very well that +the subtle brain of the woman was occupied in no fruitless attempt at +reminiscence; he was convinced that the Baroness had never exchanged a +single word with Morris Barnes in her life. She was thinking her way +through this problem—how best to make use of this unexpected tool. Their +eyes met and she smiled faintly. She judged rightly that Wrayson, at any +rate, was not deceived.</p> + +<p>"I cannot give you any definite information," she said at last, "but—"</p> + +<p>She hesitated, and the young man's eagerness escaped all bounds.</p> + +<p>"But what?" he cried, leaning breathlessly towards her. "You know +something! What is it? Go on! Go on!"</p> + +<p>"I think that if I can remember it," she continued, "I can tell you the +name of the solicitor whom he employed."</p> + +<p>The young man dashed his fist upon the table. He was pale almost +to the lips.</p> + +<p>"By God! you must remember it," he cried. "Don't say you've forgotten. +It's most important. Two thousand a year!—pounds! Think!"</p> + +<p>She turned towards Wrayson. She wished to conciliate him, but the young +man was not a pleasant sight.</p> + +<p>"It was something like Benton," she suggested.</p> + +<p>Wrayson glanced downward at one of the three documents which he had +preserved.</p> + +<p>"Bentham!" he exclaimed. "Was that it?"</p> + +<p>The face of the Baroness cleared at once.</p> + +<p>"Of course it was! How stupid of me to have forgotten. His offices are +somewhere in the Adelphi."</p> + +<p>Barnes caught up his hat.</p> + +<p>"Where is that?" he exclaimed. "I'm off."</p> + +<p>Wrayson held out his hand.</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment," he said. "There is no hurry for an hour or so. This +affair may not be quite so simple, after all."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" the young man demanded fiercely. "It's my money, isn't it? I +can take out letters of administration. It belongs to me. He'll have to +give it up."</p> + +<p>"In the long run I should say that he will—if he has it," Wrayson +answered. "But before you go to him, remember this. He has seen the +account of your brother's death. He did not appear at the inquest. He has +taken no steps to discover his next of kin. Both of these proceedings +were part of his natural duty."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wrayson is quite right," the Baroness remarked. "Mr. Bentham has not +behaved as an honest man. He will have to be treated firmly but +carefully. You are a little excited just now. Wait for an hour or so, and +perhaps Mr. Wrayson will go with you."</p> + +<p>Barnes turned towards him eagerly, and Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes! I'll go," he said. "I know Mr. Bentham slightly. He once paid me +rather a curious visit. But never mind that now."</p> + +<p>"Was it in connection with this affair?" the Baroness asked him quietly.</p> + +<p>Wrayson affected not to hear. He passed his cigarette case to Barnes, who +was stamping up and down the room, muttering to himself.</p> + +<p>"Look here, you'd better have a smoke and calm down, young man," he +said. "It's no use going to see Bentham in a state like this."</p> + +<p>The young man threw himself into a chair. Suddenly he sat up again, and +addressed the Baroness.</p> + +<p>"I say," he exclaimed, "how is it that you have a key to this flat? What +did you come here for this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>The Baroness laughed softly.</p> + +<p>"Well, I got the key from the landlord a few days ago. I told him that I +might take the flat, and he told me to come in and look at it and return +the key—which you see I haven't done. To be quite honest with you, +though, I had another reason for coming here."</p> + +<p>The young man looked at her with mingled suspicion and admiration. She +had raised her veil now, and even Wrayson was aware that he had scarcely +realized how beautiful a woman she was. Her tailor-made gown of dark +green cloth fitted her to perfection; she was turned out with all that +delightful perfection of detail which seems to be the Frenchwoman's +heritage. Her smile, half pathetic, half appealing, was certainly +sufficient to turn the head of a dozen young men such as Sydney Barnes.</p> + +<p>"I have told you," she continued, "that your brother and I used to be +very good friends. I wrote him now and then some rather foolish letters. +He promised to destroy them, but—men are so foolish, you know, +sometimes—I was never quite sure that he had kept his word, and I meant +to take this opportunity of looking for myself that he had not left them +about. You do not blame me, Mr. Sydney? You are not cross?"</p> + +<p>He kept his eyes upon her as though fascinated.</p> + +<p>"No!" he said. "No! I mean of course not."</p> + +<p>"These letters," she continued, "you have not seen them, Mr. Sydney? No? +Or you, Mr. Wrayson?"</p> + +<p>"We have not come across any letters at all answering to that +description," Wrayson assured her.</p> + +<p>The Baroness glanced across at Barnes, who was certainly regarding her in +somewhat peculiar fashion.</p> + +<p>"Why does Mr. Sydney look at me like that?" she asked, with a little +shrug of the shoulders. "He does not think that I came here to steal? +Why, Mr. Sydney," she added, "I am very, very much richer than ever your +brother was."</p> + +<p>"Richer—than he was! Richer than two thousand a year!" he gasped.</p> + +<p>The Baroness laughed softly but heartily. She stole a sidelong glance +at Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear young man," she said, "it costs me—oh! quite as much as +that each year to dress."</p> + +<p>Barnes looked at her as though she were something holy. When he spoke, +there was awe in his tone. The problem which had formed itself in his +thoughts demanded expression.</p> + +<p>"And you say that you were a pal—I mean a friend of Morris's? You wrote +him letters?"</p> + +<p>The Baroness smiled.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" she exclaimed. "Women have queer tastes, you know. We like all +sorts of men. I think I must ask Mr. Wrayson to bring you in to tea one +afternoon. Would you like to come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he answered.</p> + +<p>She nodded a farewell and turned to Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"As for you," she said under her breath, "you had better come soon if +you want to make your peace with Louise."</p> + +<p>"May I come this afternoon?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She nodded, and held out her exquisitely gloved hand.</p> + +<p>"I knew you were going to be an ally," she murmured under her breath. +"Don't let the others get hold of him."</p> + +<p>She was gone before Wrayson could ask for an explanation. The others! If +only he could discover who they were.</p> + +<p>He turned back into the room.</p> + +<p>"Do you mind coming down into my flat for a moment, Barnes?" he asked. "I +want to telephone to the office before I go out with you again."</p> + +<p>The young man followed him heavily. He seemed a little dazed. In +Wrayson's sitting-room, he stood looking about him as though appraising +the value of the curios, pictures, and engravings with which the +apartment was crowded. Wrayson, while waiting for his call, watched him +curiously. In his present state his vulgarity was perhaps less glaringly +apparent, but his lack of attractiveness was accentuated. His ears seemed +to have grown larger, his pinched, Semitic features more repulsive, and +his complexion sallower. He was pitchforked into a world of which he knew +nothing, and he seemed stunned by his first contact with it. Only one +thing remained—the greed in his eyes. They seemed to have grown narrower +and brighter with desire.</p> + +<p>He did not speak until they were in the cab. Then he turned to Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"I say," he exclaimed, "what was her name?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson smiled.</p> + +<p>"The Baroness de Sturm," he answered.</p> + +<p>"Baroness! Real Baroness! All O.K., I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"Without a doubt," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"And Morris knew her—she wrote letters to him," he continued, "a +woman—like that."</p> + +<p>He was silent for several moments. It was obvious that his opinion of his +brother was rising rapidly. His tone had become almost reverential.</p> + +<p>"I've got to find where that money is," he said abruptly. "If I go +through fire and water to get it, I'll have it! I'll keep on Morris's +flat. I'll go to his tailor! I'll—you're laughing at me. But I mean it! +I've had enough of grubbing along on nothing a week, and living in the +gutters. I want a bit of Morris's luck."</p> + +<p>Wrayson put his head out of the cab. The young man's face was not +pleasant to look at.</p> + +<p>"We are there," he said. "Come along."</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV<br /><br /> +THE LAWYER'S SUGGESTION</h3> + +<p>The offices of Mr. Bentham were situated at the extreme end of a dingy, +depressing looking street which ran from the Adelphi to the Embankment +Gardens. It was a street of private hotels which no one had ever heard +of, and where apparently no one ever stayed. A few cranky institutions, +existing under the excuse of charity, had their offices there, and a firm +of publishers, whose glory was of the past, still dragged out their +uncomfortable and profitless existence in a building whose dusty windows +and smoke-stained walls sufficiently proclaimed their fast approaching +extinction. They found the name of Mr. Bentham upon a rusty brass plate +outside the last building in the street, with the additional intimation +that his offices were upon the first floor. There they found him, without +clerks, without even an errand boy, in a large bare apartment overlooking +the embankment. The room was darkened by the branches of one of a row of +elm trees, and the windows themselves were curtainless. There was no +carpet upon the floor, no paper upon the walls, no rows of tin boxes, +none of the usual surroundings of a lawyer's office. The solicitor, who +had bidden them enter, did not at first offer them any salutation. He +paused in a letter which he was writing and his eyes rested for a moment +upon Wrayson, and for a second or two longer upon his companion.</p> + +<p>"Good afternoon, Mr. Bentham!" Wrayson said. "My name is Wrayson—you +remember me, I daresay."</p> + +<p>"I remember you certainly, Mr. Wrayson," the lawyer answered. His eyes +were resting once more upon Sydney Barnes.</p> + +<p>"This," Wrayson explained, "is Mr. Sydney Barnes, a brother of the Mr. +Morris Barnes, who was, I believe, a client of yours."</p> + +<p>"Scarcely," the lawyer murmured, "a client of mine, although I must +confess that I was anxious to secure him as one. Possibly if he had lived +a few more hours, the epithet would have been in order."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"From a letter which we found in Mr. Barnes' desk," he remarked, "we +concluded that some business was pending between you. Hence our visit."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham betrayed no sign of interest or curiosity of any sort.</p> + +<p>"I regret," he said, "that I cannot offer you chairs. I am not +accustomed to receive my clients here. If you care to be seated upon +that form, pray do so."</p> + +<p>Wrayson glanced at the form and declined. Sydney Barnes seemed scarcely +to have heard the invitation. His eyes were glued upon the lawyer's face.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me precisely," Mr. Bentham said, "in what way I can be of +service to you?"</p> + +<p>"I want to know where my brother's money is," Barnes declared, stepping a +little forward. "Two thousand a year he had. We've seen it in his +bank-book. Five hundred pounds every quarter day! And we can't find a +copper! You were his lawyer, or were going to be. You must have known +something about his position."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham looked straight ahead with still, impassive face. No trace +of the excitement in Sydney Barnes' face was reflected in his features.</p> + +<p>"Two thousand a year," he repeated calmly. "It was really as much as +that, was it? Your brother had, I believe, once mentioned the amount to +me. I had no idea, though, that it was quite so large."</p> + +<p>"I am his heir," the young man declared feverishly. "I'll take my oath +there's no one else. I'm going to take out letters of administration. He +hadn't another relation on God's earth."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham regarded the young man thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"Have you any idea, Mr. Barnes," he asked, "as to the source of +this income?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I haven't," Barnes answered. "That's why we're here. You must +know something about it."</p> + +<p>"Your brother was not my client," the lawyer said slowly. "If his death +had not been quite so sudden, I think that he might have been. As it is, +I know very little of his affairs. I am afraid that I can be of very +little use to you."</p> + +<p>"You must know something," Barnes declared doggedly. "You must tell us +what you do know."</p> + +<p>"Your brother was," Mr. Bentham said, "a very remarkable man. Has it +never occurred to you, Mr. Barnes, that this two thousand a year might +have been money received in payment of services rendered—might have +been, in short, in the nature of a salary?"</p> + +<p>"Not likely," Barnes answered, contemptuously. "Morris did no work at +all. He did nothing but just enjoy himself and spend money."</p> + +<p>"Nothing but enjoy himself and spend money," Mr. Bentham repeated. "Ah! +Did you see a great deal of your brother during the last few years?"</p> + +<p>"I saw nothing of him at all. I was out in South Africa. I have only just +got back. Not but that I'd been here long ago," the young man added, with +a note of exasperation in his tone, "if I'd had any idea of the luck he +was in. Why, I lent him a bit to come back with, though I was only +earning thirty bob a week, and the brute only sent it me back in bits, +and not a farthing over."</p> + +<p>"That was not considerate of him," Mr. Bentham agreed—"not at all +considerate. Your brother had the command of considerable sums of money. +In fact, Mr. Barnes, I may tell you, without any breach of confidence, I +think that if he had kept his appointment with me on the night when he +was murdered, I was prepared, on behalf of my client, to hand him a +cheque for ten thousand pounds!"</p> + +<p>Barnes struck the table before him with his clenched fist.</p> + +<p>"For what?" he cried, hysterically. "Ten thousand pounds for what?"</p> + +<p>"Your brother," Mr. Bentham said calmly, "was possessed of securities +which were worth that much or even more to my client."</p> + +<p>"And where are they now?" Barnes gasped.</p> + +<p>"I do not know," Mr. Bentham answered. "If you can find them, I think it +very likely that my client might make you a similar offer."</p> + +<p>It was the first ray of hope. Barnes moistened his dry lips with his +tongue, and drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>"Securities!" he muttered. "What sort of securities?"</p> + +<p>"There, unfortunately," Mr. Bentham said, "I am unable to help you. I am +an agent only in the matter. They were securities which my client was +anxious to buy, and your brother was not unwilling to sell for cash, +notwithstanding the income which they were bringing him in."</p> + +<p>"But how can I look for them, if I don't know what they are?" Barnes +protested.</p> + +<p>"There are difficulties, certainly," the lawyer admitted, carefully +polishing his spectacles with the corner of a silk handkerchief; "but, +then, as you have doubtless surmised, the whole situation is a +difficult one."</p> + +<p>"You can get to know," Barnes exclaimed. "Your client would tell you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham sighed gently.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said, "I am only quoting my own opinion, but I do not +think that my client would do anything of the sort. These securities +happen to be of a somewhat secret nature. Your brother was in a position +to make an exceedingly clever use of them. It appears incidentally to +have cost him his life, but there are risks, of course, in every +profession."</p> + +<p>Barnes stared at him with wide-open eyes. He seemed, for the moment, +struck dumb. Wrayson, who had been silent during the greater part of the +conversation, turned towards the lawyer.</p> + +<p>"You believe, then," he asked, "that Morris Barnes was murdered for the +sake of these securities?"</p> + +<p>"I believe—nothing," the lawyer answered. "It is not my business to +believe. Mr. Morris Barnes was in the receipt of an income of two +thousand a year, which we might call dividend upon these securities. My +client, through me, made Mr. Barnes a cash offer to buy them outright, +and although I must admit that Mr. Barnes had not closed with us, yet I +believe that he was on the point of doing so. He had doubtless had it +brought home to him that there was a certain amount of danger associated +with his position generally. The night on which my client arrived in +England was the night upon which Mr. Morris Barnes was murdered. The +inference to be drawn from this circumstance I can leave, I am sure, to +the common sense of you two gentlemen."</p> + +<p>"First, then," Wrayson said, "it would appear that he was murdered by the +people who were paying him two thousand a year, and who were acting in +opposition to your client!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham shrugged his shoulder gently.</p> + +<p>"It does not sound unreasonable," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"And secondly," Wrayson continued, "if that was so, he was probably +robbed of these securities at the same time."</p> + +<p>"Now that, also," Mr. Bentham said smoothly, "sounds reasonable. But, as +a matter of fact," he continued, looking down upon the table, "there are +certain indications which go to disprove it. My personal opinion is that +the assassin—granted that there was an assassin, and granted that he was +acting on behalf of the parties we have referred to—met with a +disappointment."</p> + +<p>"In plain words," Wrayson interrupted, "you mean that the other side have +not possessed themselves of the securities?"</p> + +<p>"They certainly have not," Mr. Bentham declared. "They still remain—the +property by inheritance of this young gentleman here—Mr. Sydney Barnes, +I believe."</p> + +<p>His tone was so even, so expressionless, that its slightest changes were +noticeable. It seemed to Wrayson that a faint note of sarcasm had crept +into these last few words. Mr. Barnes himself, however, was quite +oblivious of it. His yellow-stained fingers were spread out upon the +table. He leaned over towards the lawyer. His under lip protruded, his +deep-set eyes seemed closer than ever together. He was grimly, tragically +in earnest.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said. "What can I do to get hold of 'em? I don't care +what it is. I'm game! I'll deal with your man—the cash client. I'll give +you a commission, see! Five per cent on all I get. How's that? I'll play +fair. Now chuck away all this mystery. What were these securities? Where +shall I start looking for them?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham regarded him with stony face. "There are certain points," he +said, "upon which I cannot enlighten you. My duty to my client forbids +it. I cannot describe to you the nature of those securities. I cannot +suggest where you should look for them. All that I can say is that they +are still to be found, and that my client is still a buyer."</p> + +<p>The young man turned to Wrayson. His face was twitching with some +emotion, probably anger.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever hear such bally rot!" he exclaimed. "He knows all +about these securities all right. They belong to me. He ought to be +made to tell."</p> + +<p>Wrayson shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"It does seem rather a wild-goose chase, doesn't it?" he remarked. "Can't +you tell him a little more, Mr. Bentham?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham sighed, as though his impotence were a matter of sincere +regret to him.</p> + +<p>"The only advice I can offer Mr. Barnes," he said, "is that he induce you +to aid him in his search. Between you, I should never be surprised to +hear of your success."</p> + +<p>"And why," Wrayson asked, "should you consider me such a useful ally?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham looked at him steadily for a moment.</p> + +<p>"You appear to me," he said, "to be a young man of intelligence—and you +know how to keep your own counsel. I should consider Mr. Barnes very +fortunate if you could make up your mind to aid him in his search."</p> + +<p>"It is not my affair," Wrayson answered stiffly. "I could not possibly +pledge myself to enter upon such a wild-goose chase."</p> + +<p>Mr. Bentham turned over some papers which lay upon the table before him. +He had apparently had enough of the conversation.</p> + +<p>"You must not call it exactly that, Mr. Wrayson," he said. "Mr. Barnes' +success in his quest would probably result in an act of justice to +society. To you personally, I should imagine it would be expressly +interesting."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Wrayson asked, quickly.</p> + +<p>The lawyer looked at him calmly.</p> + +<p>"It should solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder!" he answered.</p> + +<p>Wrayson touched his companion on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I think that we might as well go," he said. "Mr. Bentham does not mean +to tell us anything more."</p> + +<p>Barnes moved slowly towards the door, but with reluctance manifested in +his sullen face and manner.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how I'm going to set about this job," he said, turning once +more towards the lawyer. "I shall do what I can, but you haven't seen the +last of me, yet, Mr. Bentham. If I fail, I shall come back to you."</p> + +<p>The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. He was already absorbed in other work.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI<br /><br /> +A DINNER IN THE STRAND</h3> + +<p>Wrayson was conscious, from the moment they left Mr. Bentham's office, of +a change in the deportment of the young man who walked by his side. A +variety of evil passions had developed one at least more tolerable—he +was learning the lesson of self-restraint. He did not speak until they +reached the corner of the street.</p> + +<p>"Where can we get a drink?" he asked, almost abruptly. "I want +some brandy."</p> + +<p>Wrayson took him to a bar close by. They sat in a quiet corner.</p> + +<p>"I want to ask you something," he said, leaning halfway over the little +table between them. "How much do you know about the lady who came into my +brother's flat when we were there?"</p> + +<p>The direct significance of the question startled Wrayson. This young man +was beginning to think.</p> + +<p>"How much do I know of her?" he repeated. "Very little."</p> + +<p>"She is really a Baroness—not one of these faked-up ones?"</p> + +<p>"She is undoubtedly the Baroness de Sturm," Wrayson answered, a +little stiffly.</p> + +<p>"And she has plenty of coin?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly," Wrayson answered. "She is a great lady, I believe, in her +own country."</p> + +<p>Barnes struck the table softly with the flat of his hand. His eyes were +searching for his answer in Wrayson's face, almost before the words had +left his lips.</p> + +<p>"Do you believe then," he asked, "that a woman like that wrote +love-letters to Morris? You knew Morris. He was what those sort of people +call a bounder. Same as me! If he knew her at all it was a wonder. I +can't believe in the love-letters."</p> + +<p>Wrayson shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"The whole affair," he declared, "everything connected with your brother, +is so mysterious that I really don't know what to say."</p> + +<p>"You knew Morris," the young man persisted. "You know the Baroness. Set +'em down side by side. They don't go, eh? You know that. Morris could tog +himself up as much as he liked, and he was always a good 'un at that when +he had the brass, but he'd never be able to make himself her sort. And if +she's a real lady, and wasn't after the brass, then I don't believe that +she ever wrote him love-letters. What?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson said nothing. The young man held out his empty glass to a waiter.</p> + +<p>"More brandy," he ordered briefly. "Look here, Mr. Wrayson," he added, +adopting once more his mysterious manner, "those love-letters don't go! +What did the Baroness want in my brother's flat? She struck me dumb when +I first saw her. I admit it. I'd have swallowed anything. More fool me! I +tell you, though, I'm not having any more. Will you come along with me to +her house now, and see if we can't make her tell us the truth?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson shook his head deliberately.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Barnes," he said, "I am sorry to disappoint you, and I sympathize +very much with your position, but you mustn't take it for granted that +I am, shall we say, your ally in this matter. I haven't either the time +or the patience to give to investigations of this sort. I have done +what I could for you, and I will give you what advice I can, or help +you in any way, if you care to come and see me. But you mustn't count +on anything else."</p> + +<p>Barnes' face dropped. He was obviously disappointed.</p> + +<p>"You won't come and see the Baroness with me even?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I think not," Wrayson answered. "To tell you the truth, I don't think +that it would be of any use. Even if your suspicions are correct—and you +scarcely know what you suspect, do you?—the Baroness is much too clever +a woman to allow herself to be pumped by either you or me."</p> + +<p>Wrayson felt himself subjected for several moments to the scrutinizing +stare of those blinking, unpleasant eyes.</p> + +<p>"You're not taking her side against me, are you?" Barnes asked +distrustfully.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not," Wrayson answered impatiently. "You must be reasonable, +my young friend. I have done what I can to put you in the way of helping +yourself, but I am a busy man. I have my own affairs to look after, and I +can't afford to play the part of a twentieth-century Don Quixote."</p> + +<p>"I understand," the young man said slowly. "You are going to turn me up."</p> + +<p>"You are putting a very foolish construction upon what I have said," +Wrayson answered irritably. "I have gone out of my way to help you, but, +frankly, I think that yours is a wild-goose chase."</p> + +<p>Barnes rose to his feet and finished his brandy.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," he declared. "I'm going to have that two thousand a +year, if I have to take that man Bentham by the throat and strangle the +truth out of him. If I can't find out without, I'll make him tell me the +truth if I swing for it. By God, I will!"</p> + +<p>They left the place together and walked towards the corner of the street.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't do anything rash, if I were you," Wrayson said. "I fancy +you'd find Bentham a pretty tough sort to tackle. You must excuse me now. +I am going into the club for a few minutes."</p> + +<p>"How are you, Wrayson?" a quiet voice asked behind.</p> + +<p>Wrayson turned round abruptly. It was Stephen Heneage who had greeted +him—the one man whom, at that moment, he was least anxious to meet of +any person in the world. Already he could see that Heneage was taking +quiet but earnest note of his companion.</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded a little abruptly and left Barnes without any +further farewell.</p> + +<p>"Coming round to the club?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Heneage assented, and glanced carelessly behind at Barnes, who was +walking slowly in the opposite direction.</p> + +<p>"Who's your friend?" he asked. "You shook him off a little suddenly, +didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"He is not a friend," Wrayson answered, "and I was trying to get rid of +him when you came up. He is nobody of any account."</p> + +<p>Heneage shook his head thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"It won't do, Wrayson," he said. "That young man possessed a cast of +features which are positively unmistakable."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" Wrayson demanded.</p> + +<p>"I mean that he was a relation, and a near relation, too, I should +imagine, of our deceased friend Morris Barnes," Heneage answered coolly. +"I shall be obliged to make that young man's acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"Damn you and your prying!" Wrayson exclaimed angrily. "I wish—"</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly. Heneage was already retracing his steps.</p> + +<p>Wrayson, after a moment's indecision, went on to the club, and made his +way at once to the billiard-room. The Colonel was sitting in his usual +corner chair, watching a game of pool, beaming upon everybody with his +fatherly smile, encouraging the man who met with ill luck, and applauding +the successful shots. He was surrounded by his cronies, but he held out +his hand to Wrayson, who leaned against the wall by his side and waited +for his opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Colonel," he said at last in his ear, taking advantage of the applause +which followed a successful shot, "I want half an hour's talk with you, +quite by ourselves. Can you slip away and come and dine with me +somewhere?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel looked dubious.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid they won't like it," he answered. "Freddy and George are +here, and Tempest's coming in later."</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," Wrayson answered. "You can guess what it's about. It's +a serious matter."</p> + +<p>The Colonel sighed.</p> + +<p>"We might find an opportunity later on," he suggested.</p> + +<p>"It won't do," Wrayson answered. "I want to get right away from here. I +wouldn't bother you if it wasn't necessary."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you wouldn't," the Colonel admitted. "We'll slip away quietly +when this game is over. It won't be long. Good shot, Freddy! Sixpence, +you divide!"</p> + +<p>They found themselves in the Strand about half an hour later.</p> + +<p>"Where shall we go?" Wrayson asked. "Somewhere quiet."</p> + +<p>"Across the way," the Colonel answered. "We shan't see any one we +know there."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded, and they crossed the street and entered Luigi's. It was +early for diners, and they found a small table in a retired corner. +Wrayson ordered the dinner, and then leaned across the table towards +his guest.</p> + +<p>"It's that Barnes matter, Colonel," he said quietly. "Heneage has taken +it up and means going into it thoroughly. He saw me letting out your +daughter that night."</p> + +<p>The Colonel was in the act of helping himself to <i>hors d'œuvre.</i> His +fork remained suspended for a moment in the air. Then he set it down with +trembling fingers. The cheery light had faded from his face. He seemed +suddenly older. His voice sounded unnatural.</p> + +<p>"Heneage!" he repeated, sharply. "Stephen Heneage! What affair is +it of his?"</p> + +<p>"None," Wrayson answered. "He likes that sort of thing, that's all. He +saw—your daughter with a lady—the Baroness de Sturm, and the seeing +them together, after he had watched her come out of the flat that night, +seemed to suggest something to him. He warned me that he had made up his +mind to solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder; he advised me, in +fact, to clear out. And now, since then—"</p> + +<p>The waiter brought the soup. Wrayson broke off and talked for a moment or +two to the <i>maître d'hôtel,</i> who had paused at their table. Presently, +when they were alone, he went on.</p> + +<p>"Since then, a young brother of Barnes has turned up from South Africa. +There was some mystery about Morris Barnes and the source of his income. +The brother is just as determined to solve this as Heneage seems to be to +discover the—the murderer! They will work together, and I am afraid! Not +for myself! You know for whom."</p> + +<p>The Colonel was very grave. He ate slowly, and he seemed to be thinking.</p> + +<p>"There is one man, a solicitor named Bentham," Wrayson continued, "who I +believe knows everything. But I do not think that even Heneage will be +able to make him speak. His connection with the affair is on behalf of a +mysterious client. Young Barnes and I went to see him this afternoon, but +beyond encouraging the boy to search for the source of his brother's +income, he wouldn't open his mouth."</p> + +<p>"A solicitor named Bentham," the Colonel repeated mechanically. "Ah!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know him?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"I have heard of him," the Colonel answered. "A most disreputable person, +I believe. He has offices in the Adelphi."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"And whatever his business is," he continued, "it isn't the ordinary +business of a solicitor. He has no clerks—not even an office boy!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel poured himself out a glass of wine.</p> + +<p>"No clerks—not even an office boy! It all agrees with what I have heard. +A bad lot, Wrayson, I am afraid—a thoroughly bad lot. Are you sure that +up to now he has kept his own counsel?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure of it," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>The Colonel seemed in some measure to have recovered himself. He looked +Wrayson in the face, and though grave, his expression was decidedly +more natural.</p> + +<p>"Herbert," he asked, sinking his voice almost to a whisper, "who do you +believe murdered Morris Barnes?"</p> + +<p>"God knows," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"Do you believe—that—my daughter had any hand in it?"</p> + +<p>"No!" Wrayson declared fiercely.</p> + +<p>The Colonel was silent for a moment. He seemed to be contemplating the +label on the bottle of claret which reposed in its cradle by their side.</p> + +<p>"And yet," he said thoughtfully, "she would necessarily be involved in +any disclosures which were made."</p> + +<p>"And so should I," Wrayson declared. "And those two, Sydney Barnes and +Heneage, mean to bring about disclosures. That is why I felt that I must +talk to some one about this. Colonel, can't you get your daughter to tell +us the whole truth—what she was doing in Barnes' flat that night, and +all the rest of it? We should be forewarned then!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel covered his face with his hand for a moment. The question +obviously distressed him.</p> + +<p>"I can't, Herbert," he said, in a low tone. "You would scarcely think, +would you, that I was the sort of man to live on irreconcilable terms +with one of my own family? But there it is. Don't think hardly of her. It +is more the fault of circumstances than her fault. But I couldn't go to +see her—and she wouldn't come to see me."</p> + +<p>Wrayson sighed.</p> + +<p>"It is like the rest of this cursed mystery, utterly incomprehensible," +he declared. "I shall never—"</p> + +<p>With his glass half raised to his lips, he paused suddenly in his +sentence. His face became a study in the expression of a boundless +amazement. His eyes were fastened upon the figures of two people on their +way up the room, preceded by the smiling <i>maître d'hôtel.</i> Some words, or +rather an exclamation, broke incoherently from his lips. He set down his +glass hurriedly, and a stain of red wine crept unheeded across the +tablecloth.</p> + +<p>"Look," he whispered hoarsely,—"look!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII<br /><br /> +A CONFESSION OF LOVE</h3> + +<p>The Colonel turned bodily round in his chair. The couple to whom Wrayson +had drawn his attention were certainly incongruous enough to attract +notice anywhere. The man was lank, elderly, and of severe appearance. He +was bald, he had slight side-whiskers, he wore spectacles, and his face +was devoid of expression. He was dressed in plain dinner clothes of +old-fashioned cut. The tails of his coat were much too short, his collar +belonged to a departed generation, and his tie was ready made. In a small +Scotch town he might have passed muster readily enough as the clergyman +or lawyer of the place. As a diner at Luigi's, ushered up the room to the +soft strains of "La Mattchiche," and followed by such a companion, he was +almost ridiculously out of place. If anything, she was the more +noticeable of the two to the casual observer. Her hair was dazzlingly +yellow, and arranged with all the stiffness of the coiffeur's art. She +wore a dress of black sequins, cut perilously low, and shorn a little by +wear of its pristine splendour. Her complexion was as artificial as her +high-pitched voice; her very presence seemed to exude perfumes of the +patchouli type. She was the sort of person concerning whom the veriest +novice in such matters could have made no mistake. Yet her companion +seemed wholly unembarrassed. He handed her the menu and looked calmly +around the room.</p> + +<p>"Who are those people?" the Colonel asked. "Rather a queer combination, +aren't they?"</p> + +<p>"The man is Bentham, the lawyer," Wrayson answered. His eyes were fixed +upon the lady, who seemed not at all indisposed to become the object of +any stray attention.</p> + +<p>"That Bentham!" the Colonel repeated, under his breath. "But what on +earth—where the mischief could he pick up a companion like that?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson scarcely heard him. He had withdrawn his eyes from the lady with +an effort.</p> + +<p>"I have seen that woman somewhere," he said thoughtfully—"somewhere +where she seemed quite as much out of place as she does here. +Lately, too."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" the Colonel remarked, leaning back in his chair to allow the +waiter to serve him. "She's not the sort of person you'd be likely to +forget either, is she?"</p> + +<p>"And, by Heavens, I haven't!" Wrayson declared, suddenly laying down his +knife and fork. "I remember her now. It was at the inquest—Barnes' +inquest. She was one of the two women at whose flat he called on his way +home. What on earth is Bentham doing with her?"</p> + +<p>"You think," the Colonel remarked quietly, "that there is some +connection—"</p> + +<p>"Of course there is," Wrayson interrupted. "Does that old fossil look +like the sort to take such a creature about for nothing? Colonel, he +doesn't know himself—where those securities are! He's brought that +woman here to pump her!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel passed his hand across his forehead.</p> + +<p>"I am getting a little confused," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"And I," Wrayson declared, with barely suppressed excitement, "am +beginning to see at least the shadow of daylight. If only you had some +influence with your daughter, Colonel!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel looked at him steadfastly. Wrayson wondered whether it was +the light, or whether indeed his friend had aged so much during the last +few months.</p> + +<p>"I have no influence over my daughter, Wrayson," he said. "I thought that +I had already explained that. And, Herbert," he added, leaning over the +table, "why don't you let this matter alone? It doesn't concern you. You +are more likely to do harm than good by meddling with it. There may be +interests involved greater than you know of; you may find understanding a +good deal more dangerous than ignorance. It isn't your affair, anyhow. +Take my advice! Let it alone!"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could," Wrayson answered, with a little sigh. "Frankly, I would +if I could, but it fascinates me."</p> + +<p>"All that I have heard of it," the Colonel remarked wearily, "sounds +sordid enough."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "that it is the sense of personal contact in a case +like this which stirs the blood. I have memories about that night, +Colonel, which I couldn't describe to you—or any one. And now this young +brother coming on the scene seems to bring the dead man to life again. +He's one of the worst type of young bounders I ever came into contact +with. A creature without sentiment or feeling of any sort—nothing but an +almost ravenous cupidity. He's wearing his brother's clothes now—thinks +nothing of it! He hasn't a single regret. I haven't heard a single decent +word pass his lips. But he wants the money. Nothing else! The money!"</p> + +<p>"Do you believe," the Colonel asked, "that he will get it?"</p> + +<p>"Who can tell?" Wrayson answered. "That Morris Barnes was in possession +of valuables of some sort, everything goes to prove. Just think of the +number of people who have shown their interest in him. There is Bentham +and his mysterious client, the Baroness de Sturm and your daughter, +and—the person who murdered him. Apparently, even though he lost his +life, Barnes was too clever for them, for his precious belongings must +still be undiscovered."</p> + +<p>The Colonel finished his wine and leaned back in his chair.</p> + +<p>"I am tired of this subject," he said. "I should like to get back to +the club."</p> + +<p>Wrayson called for the bill a little unwillingly. He was, in a sense, +disappointed at the Colonel's attitude.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said, "we will bury it. But before we do so, there is one +thing I have had it in my mind to say—for some time. I want to say it +now. It is about your daughter, Colonel!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel looked at him curiously.</p> + +<p>"My daughter?" he repeated, under his breath.</p> + +<p>Wrayson leaned a little forward. Something new had come into his face. +This was the first time he had suffered such words to pass his +lips—almost the first time he had suffered such thoughts to form +themselves in his mind.</p> + +<p>"I never looked upon myself," he said quietly, "as a particularly +impulsive person. Yet it was an impulse which prompted me to conceal the +truth as to her presence in the flat buildings that night. It was a +serious thing to do, and somehow I fancy that the end is not yet."</p> + +<p>"Why did you do it?" the Colonel asked. "You did not know who she was. It +could not have been that."</p> + +<p>"Why did I do it?" Wrayson repeated. "I can't tell you. I only know that +I should do it again and again if the need came. If I told you exactly +how I felt, it would sound like rot. But I'm going to ask you that +question."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel's grey eyebrows were drawn together. His eyes were keen and +bright. So he might have looked in time of stress; but he was not in the +least like the genial idol of the Sheridan billiard-room.</p> + +<p>"If I came to you to-morrow," Wrayson said, "and told you that I had met +at last the woman whom I wished to make my wife, and that woman was your +daughter, what should you say?"</p> + +<p>"I should be glad," the Colonel answered simply.</p> + +<p>"You and she are, for some unhappy reason, not on speaking terms. That—"</p> + +<p>"Good God!" the Colonel interrupted, "whom do you mean? Whom are you +talking about?"</p> + +<p>"About your daughter—whom I shielded—the companion of the Baroness de +Sturm. Your daughter Louise."</p> + +<p>The Colonel raised his trembling fingers to his forehead. His voice +quivered ominously.</p> + +<p>"Of course! Of course! God help me, I thought you meant Edith! I never +thought of Louise. And Edith has spoken of you lately."</p> + +<p>"I found your younger daughter charming," Wrayson said seriously, "but +it was of your daughter Louise I was speaking. I thought that you would +understand that."</p> + +<p>"My daughter—whom you found—in Morris Barnes' flat—that night?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly," Wrayson answered, "and my question is this. I cannot ask you +why you and she parted, but at least you can tell me if you know of any +reason why I should not ask her to be my wife."</p> + +<p>The Colonel was silent.</p> + +<p>"No!" he said at last, "there is no reason. But she would not consent. I +am sure of that."</p> + +<p>"We will let it go at that," Wrayson answered. "Come!"</p> + +<p>He had chosen his moment for rising so as to pass down the room almost at +the same time as Mr. Bentham and his strange companion. Prolific of +smiles and somewhat elephantine graces, the lady's darkened eyes met +Wrayson's boldly, and finding there some encouragement, she even favoured +him with a backward glance. In the vestibule he slipped a half-crown into +the attendant's hand.</p> + +<p>"See if you can hear the address that lady gives her cabman," he +whispered.</p> + +<p>The boy nodded, and hurried out after them. Wrayson kept the Colonel back +under the pretence of lighting a fresh cigar. When at last they strolled +forward, they met the boy returning. He touched his hat to Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"Alhambra, sir!" he said, quietly. "Gone off alone, sir, in a hansom. +Gentleman walked."</p> + +<p>The Colonel kept silence until they were in the street.</p> + +<p>"Coming to the club?" he asked, a little abruptly.</p> + +<p>"No!" Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"You are going after that woman?" the Colonel exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I am going to the Alhambra," Wrayson answered. "I can't help it. It +sounds foolish, I suppose, but this affair fascinates me. It works on my +nerves somehow. I must go."</p> + +<p>The Colonel turned on his heel. Without another word, he crossed the +Strand, leaving Wrayson standing upon the pavement. Wrayson, with a +little sigh, turned westwards.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII<br /><br /> +AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE</h3> + +<p>Wrayson easily discovered the object of his search. She was seated upon a +lounge in the promenade, her ample charms lavishly displayed, and her +blackened eyes mutely questioning the passers-by. She welcomed Wrayson +with a smile which she meant to be inviting, albeit she was a little +suspicious. Men of Wrayson's stamp and appearance were not often such +easy victims.</p> + +<p>"Saw you at Luigi's, didn't I?" he asked, hat in hand.</p> + +<p>She nodded, and made room for him to sit down by her side.</p> + +<p>"Did you see the old stick I was with?" she asked. "I don't know why I +was fool enough to go out with him. Trying to pump me about poor old +Barney, too, all the time. Just as though I couldn't see through him."</p> + +<p>"Old Barney!" Wrayson repeated, a little perplexed.</p> + +<p>She laughed coarsely.</p> + +<p>"Oh! come, that won't do!" she declared. "I'm almost sure you're on the +same lay yourself. Didn't I see you at the inquest?—Morris Barnes' +inquest, of course? You know whom I mean right enough."</p> + +<p>"I know whom you mean now," Wrayson admitted. "Yes! I was there. Queer +affair, wasn't it?"</p> + +<p>The lady nodded.</p> + +<p>"I should like a liqueur," she remarked, with apparent irrelevance. +"Benedictine!"</p> + +<p>They were seated in front of a small table, and were at times the object +of expectant contemplation on the part of a magnificent individual in +livery and knee-breeches. Wrayson summoned him and ordered two +Benedictines.</p> + +<p>"Now I don't mind telling you," the lady continued, leaning over towards +him confidentially, "that I'm dead off that old man who came prying round +and took me out to dinner, to pump me about poor Barney! He didn't get +much out of me. For one thing, I don't know much. But the little I do +know I'd sooner tell you than him."</p> + +<p>"You're very kind," Wrayson murmured. "He used to come to these places a +good deal, didn't he?"</p> + +<p>She nodded assent.</p> + +<p>"He was always either here or at the Empire. He wasn't a bad sort, +Barney, although he was just like all the rest of them, close with his +money when he was sober, and chucking it about when he'd had a drop too +much. What did you want to know about him in particular?"</p> + +<p>"Well, for one thing," Wrayson answered, "where he got his money from."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"He was always very close about that," she said. "The only story I ever +heard him tell was that he'd made it mining in South Africa."</p> + +<p>"You have really heard him say that?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"Half a dozen times," she declared.</p> + +<p>"That proves, at any rate," he remarked thoughtfully, "that there was +some mystery about his income, because I happen to know that he came +back from South Africa a pauper."</p> + +<p>"Very likely," she remarked. "Barney was always the sort who would rather +tell a lie than the truth."</p> + +<p>"Did he say anything to you that night about being in any kind of +danger?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No! I don't think so. I didn't take particular notice of what he said, +because he was a bit squiffy. I believe he mentioned some thing about a +business appointment that night, but I really didn't take much notice."</p> + +<p>"You didn't tell them anything about that at the inquest," Wrayson +remarked.</p> + +<p>"I know I didn't," she admitted. "You see, I was so knocked over, and I +really didn't remember anything clearly, that I thought it was best to +say nothing at all. They'd only have been trying to ferret things out of +me that I couldn't have told them."</p> + +<p>"I think that you were very wise," Wrayson said. "You don't happen to +remember anything else that he said, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No! except that he seemed a little depressed. But there's something else +about Barney that I always suspected, that I've never heard mentioned +yet. Mind you, it may be true or it may not, but I always suspected it."</p> + +<p>"What was that?" Wrayson demanded.</p> + +<p>"I believe that he was married," she declared impressively.</p> + +<p>"Married!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked incredulous. It certainly did not seem probable.</p> + +<p>"Where is his wife then?" he asked. "Why hasn't she turned up to claim +his effects? Besides, he lived alone. He was my neighbour, you know. His +brother has taken possession of his flat."</p> + +<p>The lady rather enjoyed the impression she had made. She was not averse, +either, to being seen in so prominent a place in confidential talk with a +man of Wrayson's appearance. It might not be directly remunerative, but +it was likely to do her good.</p> + +<p>"He showed me a photograph once," she continued. "A baby-faced chit of a +girl it was, but he was evidently very proud of it. A little girl of his +down in the country, he told me. Then, do you know this? He was never in +London for Sunday. Every week-end he went off somewhere; and I never +heard of any one who ever saw him or knew where he went to."</p> + +<p>"This is very interesting," Wrayson admitted; "but if he was married, +surely his wife would have turned up by now!"</p> + +<p>"Why should she?" the lady answered. "Don't you see that she very likely +has what all you gentlemen seem to be so anxious about—his income?"</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" Wrayson exclaimed softly. "Of course, if there was +anything mysterious about the source of it, all the more reason for +her to keep dark."</p> + +<p>"Well, that's what I've had in my mind," she declared, summoning the +waiter. "I'll take another liqueur, if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded. His thoughts were travelling fast.</p> + +<p>"Did you tell Mr. Bentham this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Not I," she answered. "The old fool got about as much out of me as he +deserved—and that's nothing."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I'm very much obliged," Wrayson answered, drawing out his +pocketbook. "I wonder if I might be allowed—?"</p> + +<p>He glanced at her inquiringly. She nodded. "I'm not proud," she +declared.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"As an amateur detective," Wrayson remarked to himself, as he strolled +homewards, "I am beginning rather to fancy myself. And yet—"</p> + +<p>His thoughts had stolen away. He forgot Morris Barnes and the sordid +mystery of which he was the centre. He remembered only the compelling +cause which was driving him towards the solution of it. The night was +warm, and he walked slowly, his hands behind him, and ever before his +eyes the shadowy image of the girl who had brought so many strange +sensations into his somewhat uneventful life. Would he ever see her, he +wondered, without the light of trouble in her eyes, with colour in her +cheeks, and joy in her tone? He thought of her violet-rimmed eyes, her +hesitating manner, her air always as of one who walked hand in hand with +fear. She was not meant for these things! Her lips and eyes were made for +laughter; she was, after all, only a girl. If he could but lift the +cloud! And then he looked upwards and saw her—leaning from the little +iron balcony, and looking out into the cool night.</p> + +<p>He half stopped. She did not move. It was too dark to see her features, +but as he looked upwards a strange idea came to him. Was it a gesture or +some unspoken summons which travelled down to him through the +semi-darkness? He only knew, as he turned and entered the flat, that a +new chapter of his life was opening itself out before him.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX<br /><br /> +DESPERATE WOOING</h3> + +<p>Wrayson felt, from the moment he crossed the threshold of the room, that +he had entered an atmosphere charged with elusive emotion. He was not +sure of himself or of her as she turned slowly to greet him. Only he was +at once conscious that something of that change in her which he had +prophetically imagined was already shining out of her eyes. She was at +once more natural and further removed from him.</p> + +<p>"I am glad," she said simply. "I wanted to say good-bye to you."</p> + +<p>He was stunned for a moment. He had not imagined this.</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye!" he repeated. "You are going away?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow. Oh! I am glad. You don't know how glad I am."</p> + +<p>She swept past him and sank into an easy-chair. She wore a black +velveteen evening dress, cut rather high, without ornament or relief of +any sort, and her neck gleamed like polished ivory from which creeps +always a subtle shade of pink. Her hair was parted in the middle and +brushed back in little waves, her eyes were full of fire, and her face +was no longer passive. Beautiful she had seemed to him before, but +beautiful with a sort of impersonal perfection. She was beautiful now in +her own right, the beauty of a woman whom nature has claimed for her own, +who acknowledges her heritage. The fear-frozen subjectivity in which he +had yet found enough to fascinate him had passed away. He felt that she +was a stranger.</p> + +<p>"Always," she murmured, "I shall think of London as the city of dreadful +memories. I should like to be going to set my face eastwards or westwards +until I was so far away that even memory had perished. But that is just +where the bonds tell, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"There are many who can make the bonds elastic," he answered. "It is only +a question of going far enough."</p> + +<p>"Alas!" she answered, "a few hundred miles are all that are +granted to me. And London is like a terrible octopus. Its arms +stretch over the sea."</p> + +<p>"A few hundred miles," he repeated, with obvious relief. "Northward or +southward, or eastward or westward?"</p> + +<p>"Southward," she answered. "The other side of the Channel. That, at +least, is something. I always like to feel that there is sea between me +and a place which I—loathe!"</p> + +<p>"Is London so hateful to you, then?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I should not have said that," she answered. "Say a place of +which I am afraid!"</p> + +<p>He looked across at her. He, too, in obedience to a gesture from her, +was seated.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, "we will not talk of London, then. Tell me where you +are going."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"To a little Paradise I know of."</p> + +<p>"Paradise," he reminded her, "was meant for two."</p> + +<p>"There will be two of us," she answered, smiling.</p> + +<p>He felt his heart thump against his ribs.</p> + +<p>"Then if one wanted to play the part of intruder?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"The third person in Paradise was always very much <i>de trop</i>," she +reminded him.</p> + +<p>"It depends upon the people who are already there," he protested.</p> + +<p>"My friend," she said, "is in search of solitude, absolute and complete."</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Such a place does not exist," he declared confidently. "Your friend +might as well have stayed at home."</p> + +<p>"She relies upon me to procure it for her," she said.</p> + +<p>A rare smile flashed from Wrayson's lips.</p> + +<p>"You can't imagine what a relief her sex is to me!" he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"I don't know why," she answered pensively. "Do you know anything about +the North of France, Mr. Wrayson?"</p> + +<p>"Not much," he answered. "I hope to know more presently."</p> + +<p>Her eyes laughed across at him.</p> + +<p>"You know what I said about the third person in Paradise?"</p> + +<p>"I can't admit your Paradise," he said.</p> + +<p>"You are a heretic," she answered. "It is a matter of sex, of course."</p> + +<p>"Naturally! Paradise is so relative. It may be the halo thrown +round a court in the city or a rose garden in the country, any +place where love is!"</p> + +<p>"And may I not love my friend!" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"You may love me," he answered, the passion suddenly vibrating in his +tone. "I will be more faithful than any friend. I will build Paradise for +you—wherever you will! I will build the walls so high that no harm or +any fear shall pass them."</p> + +<p>She waved him back. Something of the old look, which he hated so to see, +was in her face.</p> + +<p>"You must not talk to me like this, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Indeed you +must not."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" he demanded. "If there is a reason I will know it."</p> + +<p>She looked him steadily in the eyes.</p> + +<p>"Can't you imagine one for yourself?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He laughed scornfully.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand," he said. "There is only one reason in the world +that I would admit—I don't even know that I would accept that. The other +things don't count. They don't exist."</p> + +<p>She looked at him a little incredulously. She was still sitting, and he +was standing now before her. Her fingers rested lightly upon the arms of +her chair, she was leaning slightly forward as though watching for +something in his face.</p> + +<p>"Tell me that there is another man," he cried, "that you don't care +for me, that you never could care for me, and I will go away and you +shall never see my face again. But nothing short of that will drive me +from you."</p> + +<p>He spoke quickly, his tone was full of nervous passion. It never occurred +to her to doubt him.</p> + +<p>"You can be what else you like," he continued, "thief, +adventuress—murderess! So long as there is no other man! Come to me and +I will take you away from it all."</p> + +<p>She laughed very softly, and his pulses thrilled at the sound, for there +was no note of mockery there; it was the laugh of a woman who listens to +hidden music.</p> + +<p>"You are a bold lover," she murmured. "Have you been reading romances +lately? Do you know that it is the twentieth century, and I have seen you +three times? You don't know what you say. You can't mean it."</p> + +<p>"By Heaven, I do!" he cried, and for one exquisite moment he held her in +his arms. Then she freed herself with a sudden start. She had lost her +composure. Her cheeks were flushed.</p> + +<p>"Don't!" she cried, sharply. "Remember our first meeting. I am not the +sort of person you imagine. I never can be. There are reasons—"</p> + +<p>He swept them aside. Something seemed to tell him that if he did not +succeed with her now, his opportunity would be gone forever.</p> + +<p>"I will listen to none of them," he declared, standing between her and +the door. "They don't matter! Nothing matters! I choose you for my wife, +and I will have you. I wouldn't care if you came to me from a prison. +Better give in, Louise. I shan't let you escape."</p> + +<p>She had indeed something of the look of a beautiful hunted animal as she +leaned a little towards him, her eyes riveted upon his, her lips a little +parted, her bosom rising and falling quickly. She was taken completely by +surprise. She had not given Wrayson credit for such strength of mind or +purpose. She had believed entirely in her own mastery over him, for any +such assault as he was now making. And she was learning the truth. Love +that makes a woman weak lends strength to the man. Their positions were +becoming reversed. It was he who was dictating to her.</p> + +<p>"I am going away," she said nervously. "You will forget me. You must +forget me."</p> + +<p>"You shall not go away," he answered, "unless I know where. Don't be +afraid. You can keep your secrets, whatever they are. I want to know +nothing. Go on exactly with the life you are leading, if it pleases you. +I shan't interfere. But you are going to be my wife, and you shall not +leave London without telling me about it."</p> + +<p>"I am leaving London," she faltered, "to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking," he remarked, calmly, "of taking a little holiday +myself."</p> + +<p>She laughed uneasily.</p> + +<p>"You are absurd," she declared, "and you must go away. Really! The +Baroness will be home directly. I would rather, I would very much rather +that she did not find you here."</p> + +<p>He held out his arms to her. His eyes were bright with the joy of +conquest.</p> + +<p>"I will go, Louise," he answered, "but first I will have my answer—and +no answer save one will do!"</p> + +<p>She bit her lip. She was moved by some emotion, but he was unable, for +the moment, to classify it.</p> + +<p>"I think," she declared, "that you must be the most persistent man +on earth."</p> + +<p>"You are going to find me so," he assured her.</p> + +<p>"Listen," she said firmly, "I will not marry you!"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"On that point," he answered, "I am content to differ from you. +Anything else?"</p> + +<p>She stamped her foot.</p> + +<p>"I do not care for you! I do not wish to marry you!" she repeated. "I am +going away, and I forbid you to follow me."</p> + +<p>"No good!" he declared, stolidly. "I am past all that."</p> + +<p>She held up her finger, and glanced backward out of the window.</p> + +<p>"It is the Baroness," she said. "I must go and open the door."</p> + +<p>For one moment she lay passive in his arms; then he could have sworn that +her lips returned his kiss. She was there when they heard the turning of +a latch-key in the door. With a little cry she slipped away and left him +alone. The outer door was thrown open, and the Baroness stood upon the +threshold.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX<br /><br /> +STABBED THROUGH THE HEART</h3> + +<p>The Baroness recognized Wrayson with a little shrug of the shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Ah! my dear Mr. Wrayson," she exclaimed, "this is very kind of you. You +have been keeping Louise company, I hope. And see what droll things +happen! It is your friend, Mr. Barnes, who has brought me home this +evening, and who will take a whisky and soda before he goes. Is it not +so, my friend?"</p> + +<p>She turned around, but there was no immediate response. The Baroness +looked over the banisters and beheld her escort in the act of ascending.</p> + +<p>"Coming right along," he called out cheerfully. "It was the cabman who +tried to stop me. He wanted more than his fare. Found he'd tackled the +wrong Johnny this time."</p> + +<p>Mr. Sydney Barnes came slowly into view. He was wearing an evening suit, +obviously too large for him, a made-up white tie had slipped round +underneath his ear, a considerable fragment of red silk handkerchief was +visible between his waistcoat and much crumpled white shirt. An opera +hat, also too large for him, he was wearing very much on the back of his +head, and he was smoking a very black cigar, from which he had failed to +remove the band. He frowned when he saw Wrayson, but followed the +Baroness into the room with a pronounced swagger.</p> + +<p>"You two need no introduction, of course," the Baroness remarked. "I am +not going to tell you where I found Mr. Barnes. I do not expect to be +very much longer in England, so perhaps I am not so careful as I ought to +be. Louise, if she knew, would be shocked. Now, Mr. Wrayson, do not hurry +away. You will take some whisky and soda? I am afraid that my young +friend has not been very hospitable."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind," Wrayson said. "To tell you the truth, I was rather +hoping to see Miss Fitzmaurice again. She disappeared rather abruptly."</p> + +<p>The Baroness shook her finger at him in mock reproach.</p> + +<p>"You have been misbehaving," she declared. "Never mind. I will go and see +what I can do for you."</p> + +<p>She stood for a moment before a looking-glass arranging her hair, and +then left the room humming a light tune. Sydney Barnes, with his hands in +his pockets, flung himself into an easy-chair.</p> + +<p>"I say," he began, "I don't quite see what you're doing here."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked at him for a moment in supercilious surprise.</p> + +<p>"I scarcely see," he answered, "how my movements concern you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Barnes was unabashed.</p> + +<p>"Oh! chuck it," he declared. "You know very well what I'm thinking of. To +tell you the truth, I've come to the conclusion that there's some +connection between this household and my brothers affairs. That's why I'm +palling on to the Baroness. She's a fine woman—class, you know, and all +that sort of thing, but what I want is the shino! You tumble?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson shrugged his shoulders slightly.</p> + +<p>"I wish you every success," he said. "Personally, I think that you are +wasting your time here."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," Barnes answered. "I'm taking my own risks."</p> + +<p>Wrayson turned away, and at that moment the Baroness re-entered the room.</p> + +<p>"My friend," she said, addressing Wrayson, "I can do nothing for you. +Whether you have offended Louise or made her too happy, I cannot say. But +she will not come down. You will not see her again to-night."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," Wrayson answered. "She is going away to-morrow, I +understand?"</p> + +<p>The Baroness sighed.</p> + +<p>"Alas!" she declared, "I must not answer any questions. Louise has +forbidden it."</p> + +<p>Wrayson took up his hat.</p> + +<p>"In that case," he remarked, "there remains nothing for me but to wish +you good night!"</p> + +<p>There was a cab on the rank opposite, and Wrayson, after a moment's +hesitation, entered it and was driven to the club. He scarcely expected +to find any one there, but he was in no mood for sleep, and the thought +of his own empty rooms chilled him. Somewhat to his surprise, however, he +found the smoking-room full. The central figure of the most important +group was the Colonel, his face beaming with good-nature, and his cheeks +just a little flushed. He welcomed Wrayson almost boisterously.</p> + +<p>"Come along, Herbert," he cried. "Plenty of room. What'll you have to +drink, and have you heard the news?"</p> + +<p>"Whisky and soda," Wrayson answered, sinking into an easy-chair, "and I +haven't heard any news."</p> + +<p>The Colonel took his cigar from his mouth, and leaned forward in his +chair. He had the appearance of a man who was striving to appear more +grave than he felt.</p> + +<p>"You remember the old chap we saw dining at Luigi's to-night—Bentham, I +think you said his name was?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"Of course! What about him?"</p> + +<p>"He's dead!" the Colonel declared.</p> + +<p>Wrayson jumped out of his chair.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean it, Colonel!"</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, I do," the Colonel answered. "He was found dead on the +stairs leading to his office, about ten o'clock to-night. A most +interesting case. The murder, presuming it was a murder, appears to have +been committed—"</p> + +<p>Wrayson was suddenly pale.</p> + +<p>"Murder!" he repeated. "Colonel, do you mean this?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel, who hated being interrupted, answered a little testily.</p> + +<p>"My dear Wrayson," he expostulated, "is this the sort of thing a man +invents for fun? Do listen for a moment, if you can, in patience. It is a +deeply interesting case. If you remember, it was about nine o'clock when +we left Luigi's; Bentham must have gone almost straight to his office, +for he was found there dead a very few minutes after ten."</p> + +<p>"Who killed him, and why?" Wrayson asked breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"That, I suppose, we shall know later," the Colonel answered. "The +police will be on their mettle this time, but it isn't a particularly +easy case. He was found lying on his face, stabbed through the heart. +That is all anybody knows."</p> + +<p>The thoughts went rushing through Wrayson's brain. He remembered the man +as he had seemed only a few hours ago, cold, stonily indifferent to +young Barnes' passionate questions, inflexibly silent, a man who might +easily kindle hatreds, to all appearance without a soft spot or any +human feeling. He remembered the close of their interview, and Sydney +Barnes' rash threat. The suggested idea clothed itself almost +unconsciously with words.</p> + +<p>"I have just seen young Barnes," he said. "He has been at the Empire all +the evening."</p> + +<p>The Colonel lit another cigar.</p> + +<p>"It takes a man of nerve and deliberation," he remarked, "to commit a +murder. From what I have heard of him, I should not imagine your young +friend to be possessed of either. The lady whom he was entertaining, or +rather failing to entertain, at dinner—"</p> + +<p>"I have seen her since," Wrayson interrupted shortly. "She went straight +to the Alhambra."</p> + +<p>The Colonel nodded.</p> + +<p>"I would have insured her against even suspicion," he remarked. "She was +a large, placid woman, of the flabby order of nerves. She will probably +faint when she hears what has happened. She might box a man's ears, but +her arm would never drive a dagger home into his heart, especially with +such beautiful, almost mathematical accuracy. We must look elsewhere, I +fancy, for the person who has paid Bentham's debt to society. Heneage, +here, has an interesting theory."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked across and found that his eyes met Heneage's. He was +sitting a little in the background, with a newspaper in his hand, which +he was, however, only affecting to read. He was taking note of every word +of the conversation. He was obviously annoyed at the Colonel's reference +to him, but he did his best to conceal it.</p> + +<p>"Scarcely a theory," he remarked, laying down his paper for a moment. "I +can hardly call it that. I only remarked that I happened to know a little +about Bentham, and that his clients, if he had any, were mostly +foreigners, and their business of a shady nature. As a matter of fact, he +was struck off the rolls here some years ago. I forget the case now, but +I know that it was a pretty bad one."</p> + +<p>"So you see," the Colonel resumed, "he was probably in touch with a loose +lot, though what benefit his death could have been to any one it is, of +course, a little hard to imagine. Makes one think, somehow, of this +Morris Barnes affair, doesn't it? I wonder if there is any connection +between the two."</p> + +<p>Heneage laid down his paper now, and abandoned his attitude of +indifferent listener. He was obviously listening for what Wrayson +had to say.</p> + +<p>"Connection of some sort between the two men there certainly was," +Wrayson admitted. "We know that."</p> + +<p>"Exactly," Heneage remarked. "I speak without knowing very much about +the matter, but I am thoroughly convinced of one thing. If you can find +the murderer of Morris Barnes, you will solve, at the same time, the +mystery of Bentham's death. It is the same affair; part and parcel of +the same tangle."</p> + +<p>The Colonel was silent for a few moments. He seemed to be reflecting on +Heneage's words.</p> + +<p>"I believe you are right," he said at last. "I should be curious to know, +though, how you arrived at this decision."</p> + +<p>Heneage looked past him at Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"You should ask Wrayson," he said.</p> + +<p>But Wrayson had risen, and was sauntering towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I'm off," he remarked, looking backwards and nodding his farewells. "If +I stay here any longer, I shall have nightmare. Time you fellows were in +bed, too. How's the Malleni fund, Colonel?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel's face relaxed. A smile of genuine pleasure lit up his +features.</p> + +<p>"Going strong," he declared triumphantly. "We shall ship him off for +Italy next week with a very tidy little cheque in his pocket. Dear old +Dobson gave us ten pounds, and the concert fund is turning out well."</p> + +<p>Wrayson lit a cigarette and looked back from the open door.</p> + +<p>"You're more at home with philanthropy than horrors, Colonel," he +remarked. "Good night, everybody!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI<br /><br /> +THE FLIGHT OF LOUISE</h3> + +<p>The Baroness was looking her best, and knew it. She had slept well the +night before, and her eyes were soft and clear. Her maid had been +unusually successful with her hair, and her hat, which had arrived +only that morning from Paris, was quite the smartest in the room. She +was at her favourite restaurant, and her solitary companion was a +good-looking man, added to which the caviar was delightfully fresh, +and the toast crisp and thin. Consequently the Baroness was in a +particularly good temper.</p> + +<p>"I really do wish, my dear friend," she said, smiling across at him, +"that I could do what you ask. But it is not so simple, not so simple as +you think. You say, 'Give me the address of your friend,' You ask me +nicely, and I like you well enough to be glad to do it. But Louise she +say to me, 'Give no one my address! Let no one know where I am gone.'"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure she didn't mean that to apply to me," Wrayson pleaded.</p> + +<p>"Ah! but she even mentioned your name," the Baroness declared. "I say to +her, 'Not even Mr. Wrayson?' and she answered, 'No! No! No!'"</p> + +<p>"And you promised?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, yes! What else could I do?" she replied. "I say to her, 'You are a +very foolish girl, Louise. After you have gone you will be sorry. Mr. +Wrayson will be angry with you, and I shall make myself very, very +agreeable to him, and who knows but he will forget all about you?' But +Louise she only shake her head. She knows her own countrymen too well. +They are so terribly insularly constant."</p> + +<p>"Is that such a very bad quality, Baroness?"</p> + +<p>"Ah! I find it so," she admitted. "I do not like the man who can think of +only one thing, only one woman at a time. He is so dull, he has no +imagination. If he has only one sweetheart, how can he know anything +about us? for in a hundred different women there are no two alike."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well," Wrayson answered, smiling; "but, you see, if a +man cares very much for one particular woman, he hasn't the least +curiosity about the rest of her sex."</p> + +<p>She sighed gently, and her eyes flashed her regrets. Very blue eyes they +were to-day, almost as blue as the turquoises about her throat.</p> + +<p>"They say," she murmured, "that some Englishmen are like that. It is so +much a pity—when they are nice!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he suggested, "that yours is the Continental point of view."</p> + +<p>She was silent until the waiter, who was filling her glass with white +wine, had departed. Then she leaned over towards him. Her forehead was a +little wrinkled, her eyebrows raised. She had the half-plaintive air of a +child who is complaining of being unjustly whipped.</p> + +<p>"Yes! I think it is," she answered. "The lover, as I know him, is one who +could not be unkind to a woman. In his heart he is faithful, perhaps, to +one, but for her sake the whole world of beautiful women are objects of +interest to him. He will flirt with them when they will. He is always +their admirer. In the background there may always be what you call the +preference, but that is his secret."</p> + +<p>Wrayson smiled across the table.</p> + +<p>"This is a very dangerous doctrine, Baroness!" he declared.</p> + +<p>"Dangerous?" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"For us! Remember that we are a susceptible race."</p> + +<p>She flung out her hands and shook her head. Susceptible! She denied it +vehemently.</p> + +<p>"It is on the contrary," she declared. "You do not lose your heads or +your hearts very easily, you Englishmen."</p> + +<p>"You do not know us," he protested.</p> + +<p>"I know <i>you</i>," she answered. "For myself, I admit it. When I am with a +man who is nice, I try that I may make him, just a little, no more, but +just a little in love with me. It makes things more amusing. It is better +for him, and we are not bored. But with you, <i>mon ami, I</i> know very well +that I waste my time. And so, I ask you instead this question. Tell me +why you have invited me to take luncheon with you."</p> + +<p>She flashed her question across at him carelessly enough, but he felt +that she expected an answer, and that she was not to be deceived.</p> + +<p>"I wanted Miss Fitzmaurice's address," he said.</p> + +<p>"Naturally. But what else?"</p> + +<p>He sighed.</p> + +<p>"I want to know more than you will tell me, I am afraid," he said. "I +want to know why you and Miss Fitzmaurice are living together in London +and leading such an unusual life, and how in Heaven's name you became +concerned in the affairs of Morris Barnes."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she said. "You want to know that? So!"</p> + +<p>"I do," he admitted.</p> + +<p>"And yet," she remarked, "even for that it was not worth while to make +love to me! You ask so much, my friend, and you give so little."</p> + +<p>"If you—" he began, a little awkwardly.</p> + +<p>Her light laugh stopped him.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no! my friend, you must not be foolish," she said. "I will tell you +what I can for nothing, and that, I am afraid, is very little more than +nothing. But as for offering me a bribe, you must not think of that. It +would not be <i>comme-il-faut;</i> not at all <i>gentil</i>."</p> + +<p>"Tell me what you can, then," he begged.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"It is so little," she declared; "only this. We are not adventuresses, +Louise and I. We are living together because we were schoolfellows, and +because we are both anxious to succeed in a certain undertaking to which, +for different reasons, we have pledged ourselves. To succeed we needed +some papers which had come into the hands of Mr. Morris Barnes. That is +why I am civil to that little—what you call bounder, his brother."</p> + +<p>"It sounds reasonable enough, this," Wrayson said; "but what about +the murder of Morris Barnes, on the very night, you know, when Louise +was there?"</p> + +<p>"It is all a very simple matter," the Baroness answered, quietly, "but +yet it is a matter where the death of a few such men would count for +nothing. A few ages ago it would not have been a matter of a dozen Morris +Barnes, no, nor a thousand! Diplomacy is just as cruel, and just as +ruthless, as the battlefield, only it works, down there—underground!"</p> + +<p>"It is a political matter, then?" Wrayson asked swiftly.</p> + +<p>The Baroness smiled. She took a cigarette from her little gold case +and lit it.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" she exclaimed, "you must not try to, what you say, pump me! You can +call it what you will. Only to Louise, as to me, it is very much a +personal affair. Shall we talk now, for a little, of other things?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson sighed.</p> + +<p>"I may not know, then," he begged, "where Louise has gone, or why?"</p> + +<p>"It would not be her wish," the Baroness answered, "that I should +tell you."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Wrayson said, "I will ask you no more questions. Only this. +I have told you of this man Bentham."</p> + +<p>The Baroness inclined her head. He had told her nothing that was +news to her.</p> + +<p>"Was he on your side, or opposed to you?"</p> + +<p>"You are puzzling me," the Baroness confessed.</p> + +<p>"Already," Wrayson explained, "I know as much of the affair as this. +Morris Barnes was in possession of something, I do not know whether it +was documents, or what possible material shape it had, but it brought him +in a considerable income, and both you and some others were endeavouring +to obtain possession of it. So far, I believe that neither of you have +succeeded. Morris Barnes has been murdered in vain; Bentham the lawyer, +who telephoned to me on the night of his death, has shared his fate. To +whose account do these two murders go, yours or the others'?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot answer that question, Mr. Wrayson," the Baroness said.</p> + +<p>"Do you know," Wrayson demanded, dropping his voice a little, "that, but +for my moral, if not actual perjury, Louise herself would have been +charged with the murder of Morris Barnes?"</p> + +<p>"She had a narrow escape," the Baroness admitted.</p> + +<p>"She had a narrow escape," Wrayson declared, "but the unfortunate part of +the affair is, that she is not even now safe!"</p> + +<p>The Baroness looked at him curiously. She was in the act of drawing on +her gloves, but her fingers suddenly became rigid.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I mean," Wrayson said, "that another person saw her come out of the +flats that night. It was a friend of mine, who kept silence at first +because he believed that it was a private assignation of my own. Since +then events have occurred to make him think differently. He has gone +over to the other side. He is spending his time with young Sydney +Barnes, and he has set himself to discover the mystery of Morris Barnes' +murder. He has even gone so far as to give me warning that I should be +better out of England."</p> + +<p>"Who is this person?" the Baroness asked calmly.</p> + +<p>"His name is Stephen Heneage, and he is a member of my club, the club to +which Louise's father also belongs," Wrayson replied.</p> + +<p>The Baroness suddenly dropped her veil, but not before Wrayson had seen +a sudden change in her face. He remembered suddenly that Heneage was no +stranger to her, he remembered the embarrassment of their meeting at +the Alhambra.</p> + +<p>"You know him, of course," he repeated. "Heneage is not a man to be +trifled with. He has had experience in affairs of this sort, he is no +ordinary amateur detective."</p> + +<p>"Yes! I know Mr. Stephen Heneage," the Baroness said. "Tell me, does +Louise know?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I have had no opportunity of telling her," he answered. "I might not +have thought so seriously of it, but this morning I received a note +from Heneage."</p> + +<p>"Yes! What did he say?"</p> + +<p>"It was only a line or two," Wrayson answered. "He reminded me of his +previous warning to me to leave England for a time, and he underlined it. +Louise ought to know. I want to tell her!"</p> + +<p>"I am glad you did not tell me this before," the Baroness said, as they +left the room together, "or it would have spoiled my luncheon. I do not +like your friend, Mr. Heneage!"</p> + +<p>"You will give me Louise's address?" he asked. "Some one must see her."</p> + +<p>"I will send it you," the Baroness promised, "before the day is out."</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII<br /><br /> +THE CHÂTEAU OF ÉTARPE</h3> + +<p>"One would scarcely believe," Wrayson remarked, leaning back in his chair +and drawing in a long deep breath, "that we are within three miles of one +of the noisiest and most bustling of French watering places."</p> + +<p>"It is incredible," his companion admitted.</p> + +<p>They were seated in a garden behind the old inn of the <i>Lion d'Or</i>, in +the village of St. Étarpe. Before them was a round table, on whose +spotless white cloth still remained dishes of fruit and a bottle of +wine—not the <i>vin ordinaire</i> which had been served with their repast, +but something which Wrayson had ordered specially, and which the landlord +himself, all smiles and bows, had uncorked and placed before them. +Wrayson produced his cigarette case.</p> + +<p>"How did you hear of this place?" he asked, watching the smoke curl +upwards into the breathless air. "I fancy that you and I are the only +guests here."</p> + +<p>Wrayson's companion, tall, broad-shouldered, and heavily bearded, was +busy filling a pipe from a pouch by his side. His features were +unmistakably Saxon, and his cheeks were tanned, as though by much +exposure to all sorts of weathers. He was still apparently on the right +side of middle age, but his manners were grave, almost reserved.</p> + +<p>"I was in the neighbourhood many years ago," he answered. "I had a fancy +to revisit the place. And you?"</p> + +<p>"I discovered it entirely by accident," Wrayson admitted. "I walked out +from Chourville this morning, stayed here for some luncheon, and was so +delighted that I took a room and went straight back for my bag. There +isn't an emperor in Europe who has so beautiful a dining-room as this!"</p> + +<p>Together they looked across the valley, a wonderful panorama of vine-clad +slopes and meadows, starred with many-coloured wild flowers, through +which the river wound its way, now hidden, now visible, a thin line of +gleaming quicksilver. Tall poplars fringed its banks, and there were +white cottages and farmhouses, mostly built in the shelter of the +vine-covered cliffs. To the left a rolling mass of woods was pierced by +one long green avenue, at the summit of which stretched the grey front +and towers of the Château de St. Étarpe. Wrayson looked long at the +fertile and beautiful country, which seemed to fade so softly away in the +horizon; but he looked longest at the chateâu amongst the woods.</p> + +<p>"I wonder who lives there," he remarked. "I meant to have asked +the waiter."</p> + +<p>"I can tell you," the stranger said. "The château belongs to the Baroness +de Sturm."</p> + +<p>"A Frenchwoman?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"Half French, half Belgian. She has estates in both countries, I +believe," his companion answered. "As a matter of fact, I believe that +this château is hers in her own right as a daughter of the Étarpes. She +married a Belgian nobleman."</p> + +<p>"You seem well acquainted with the neighbourhood," Wrayson remarked.</p> + +<p>"I have been here before," was the somewhat short answer.</p> + +<p>Wrayson produced his card-case.</p> + +<p>"As we seem likely to see something of one another during the next few +days, <i>nolens volens</i>," he remarked, "may I introduce myself? My name is +Wrayson, Herbert Wrayson, and I come from London."</p> + +<p>The stranger took the card a little doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged," he said. "I do not carry a card-case, but my name +is Duncan."</p> + +<p>"An Englishman, of course?" Wrayson remarked smiling.</p> + +<p>"I am English," Mr. Duncan answered, "but I have not been in England for +many years."</p> + +<p>There was something about his manner which forbade any further +questioning on Wrayson's part. The two men sat together in silence, and +Wrayson, although not of a curious turn of mind, began to feel more than +an ordinary interest in his companion. One thing he noticed in +particular. Although, as the sun sank lower, the beauties of the +landscape below increased, Duncan's eyes scarcely for a moment rested +upon them. He had turned his chair a little, and he sat directly facing +the chateâu. The golden cornfields, the stained-glass windows of the grey +church rising like a cathedral, as it were, in the midst of the +daffodil-starred meadows, caught now with the flood of the dying sunlight +mingled so harmoniously with their own time-mellowed richness, the +increasing perfume of the flowers by which they were surrounded,—none of +these things seemed for one moment to distract his attention. Steadily +and fixedly he gazed up that deep green avenue, empty indeed of any +moving object, and yet seemingly not empty to him. For he had the air of +one who sees beyond the world of visible objects, of one who sees things +dimmed to those of only natural powers. With what figures, Wrayson +wondered, idly, was he peopling that empty avenue, what were the fancies +which had crept out from his brain and held him spellbound? He had +admitted a more or less intimate acquaintance with the place: was he, +perhaps, a former lover of the Baroness, when she had been simply Amy de +St. Étarpe? Wrayson forgot, for a while, his own affairs, in following +out these mild speculations. The soft twilight stole down upon them; here +and there little patches of grey mist came curling up the valley. A bat +came flying about their heads, and Wrayson at last rose.</p> + +<p>"I shall take a stroll." he remarked, "and turn in. Good night, if I +don't see you again!"</p> + +<p>The man named Duncan turned his head.</p> + +<p>"Good night!" he said, mechanically.</p> + +<p>Wrayson walked down the garden and passed through a wicket-gate into the +broad white road. Setting his back to the village, he came, in a few +minutes, to the great entrance gate of the château, hung from massive +stone pillars of great age, and themselves fashioned of intricate and +curiously wrought ironwork. The gates themselves were closed fast, and +the smaller ones on either side, intended for pedestrians, were fastened +with a padlock. Wrayson stood for a moment looking through the bars into +the park. The drive ran for half a mile perfectly straight, and then, +taking an abrupt bend, passed upwards into the woods, amongst which was +the château.</p> + +<p>"What do you want?" an abrupt voice demanded.</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked round in surprise. A man in gamekeeper's clothes had +issued from the lodge, carrying a gun.</p> + +<p>"Good evening!" Wrayson said. "Is it permitted for the public to enter +the park?"</p> + +<p>"By no means," was the surly answer. "Cannot monsieur see that the gates +are locked?"</p> + +<p>"I understood from the landlord of the <i>Lion d'Or</i>" Wrayson said, "that +the villagers were allowed the privilege of walking in the park."</p> + +<p>The man looked at him suspiciously.</p> + +<p>"You are not of the village," he said.</p> + +<p>"I am staying there," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"It makes nothing. For the present, villagers and every one are forbidden +to enter. There are visitors at the château."</p> + +<p>Wrayson turned away.</p> + +<p>"Very well," he said. "Good night!"</p> + +<p>The man did not answer him. Wrayson continued to climb the hill which +skirted the park. He did not turn round, but he heard the gates open, and +he was convinced that he was being watched, if he was not followed. He +kept on, however, until he came to some more iron gates, from which +stretched the grass avenue which led straight to the gardens of the +château. Dimly, through the gathering dusk, he caught a view of it, which +was little more than an impression; silver grey and quiet with the peace +which the centuries can bring, it seemed to him, with its fantastic +towers, and imperfectly visible outline, like a palace of dreams rather +than a dwelling house, however magnificent, of material stone and brick. +An owl flew out from the trees a few yards to the left of him, and +drifted slowly over his head, with much flapping of wings, and a weird, +soft call, faintly answered in the distance by his mate; from far away +down in the valley came the slow ringing of a single evening bell. Save +for these things, a silence almost wonderful reigned. Gradually Wrayson +began to feel that sense of soothed nerves, of inexpressible relief, +which Nature alone dispenses—her one unequalled drug! All the agitation +and turmoil of the last few months seemed to fall away from him. He felt +that he had been living in a world of false proportions; that the maze of +doubts and fears through which he had wandered was, after all, no part of +life itself, merely a tissue of irrelevant issues, to which his distorted +imagination had affixed a purely fictitious importance. What concern of +his was it how Morris Barnes had lived or died? And who was Bentham that +his fate should ever disturb him? The secrets of other people were theirs +to keep. His own secret was more wonderful by far. Alone, from amidst the +tangle of his other emotions, he felt its survival—more than its +survival, its absolute conquest of all other feelings and considerations. +It was truth, he knew, that men sought after in the quiet places, and it +was the truth which he had found. If he could but see her coming down the +avenue, coming to him across the daisy-strewn grass, beneath the shadow +of the stately poplars! The very thought set his heart beating like a +boy's. He felt the blood singing in his veins, the love-music swelling in +his heart. He shook the gates. They, too, were padlocked. Then he +listened. There was no sound of any footfall in the road. He moved a few +steps higher up, and, making use of the pillars of the gate, he climbed +on to the wall. It was a six-foot drop, but he came down noiselessly +into a bed of moss. Once more he paused to listen. There was no sound +save the burring of some night insect over his head. Stealthily, and +keeping in the shadow of the trees, he began to climb the grassy avenue +towards the château.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII<br /><br /> +A PASSIONATE PILGRIM</h3> + +<p>It seemed to Wrayson, as by and by he began to make bolder and more +rapid progress, that it was an actual fairy world into which he was +passing with beating heart and this strange new sense of delicious +excitement. As he drew nearer, the round Norman towers and immense grey +front of the château began to take to themselves more definite shape. +The gardens began to spread themselves out; terraced lawns, from whose +flower-beds, now a blurred chaos so far as colour was concerned, waves +of perfume came stealing down to him; statuary appeared, white and +ghostly in the half light, and here and there startlingly lifelike; +there were trimmed shrubs, and a long wall of roses trailed down from +the high stone balcony. But, as yet, there was no sound or sign of human +life! That was to come.</p> + +<p>Wrayson came to a pause at last. He had passed from the shelter of the +woods into a laurel walk, but further than this he could not go without +being plainly visible to any one in the château. So he waited and +watched. There were lights, he could see now, behind many of the ground +floor windows of the chateâu, and more than once he fancied that he could +catch the sound of music. He tried to fancy in which room she was, to +project his passionate will through the twilight, so that she should come +to him. But the curtains remained undrawn, and the windows closed. Still +Wrayson waited!</p> + +<p>Then at last Providence intervened. Above the top of the woods, over on +the other side of the château, came first a faint lightening in the sky, +which gradually deepened into a glow. Slowly the rim of the moon crept +up, and very soon the spectral twilight was at an end. The shadowy +landscape became real and vivid. It was a new splendour creeping softly +into the night. Wrayson moved a little further back into his shelter, and +even as he did so one of the lower windows of the château was thrown +open, and two women, followed by a man, stepped out. Their appearance was +so sudden that Wrayson felt his breath almost taken away. He leaned a +little forward and watched them eagerly.</p> + +<p>The woman, who was foremost of the little group, was a stranger to him, +although her features, and a somewhat peculiar headdress which she wore, +seemed in a sense familiar. She was tall and dark, and she carried +herself with the easy dignity of a woman of rank. Her face was thoughtful +and her expression sweet; if she was not actually beautiful, she was at +least a woman whom it was impossible to ignore. But Wrayson glanced at +her only for a minute. It was Louise who stood by her side!—the music of +her voice came floating down to him. Heavens! had he ever realized how +beautiful she was? He devoured her with his eyes, he strained his nerves +to hear what they were saying. He was ridiculously relieved to see that +the man who stood by their side was grey-headed. He was beginning to +realize what love was. Jealousy would be intolerable.</p> + +<p>They moved about the terrace. He scarcely knew whether he hoped or feared +the more that they would descend and come nearer to him. After all, it +was cruelly tantalizing. He dared not disobey the Baroness, or he would +have stepped boldly from his hiding-place and gone up to them. But that, +by the terms of his promise, was impossible. He was to make his presence +known to Louise only if he could do so secretly. He was not to accost her +in the presence of any other person. It might be days or weeks before the +opportunity came—or it might—it might be minutes! For, almost without +warning, she was alone. The others had left her, with farewells, if any, +of the briefest. She came forward to the grey stone parapet, and, with +her head resting upon her hand, looked out towards the woods.</p> + +<p>His heart began to beat faster—his brain was confused. Was there any +chance that she would descend into the gardens—dare he make a signal +to her? Her head and shoulders were bare, and a slight breeze had +sprung up during the last few minutes. Perhaps she would feel the cold +and go in! Perhaps—</p> + +<p>He watched her breathlessly. She had abandoned her thoughtful attitude +and was standing upright, looking around her. She looked once at the +window. She was apparently undecided whether to go in or not. Wrayson +prayed then, if he had never prayed before. He didn't know to whom! He +was simply conscious of an intense desire, which seemed somehow +formulated into an appeal. Before he was fully conscious of it, she was +coming down the steps. She stood on the edge of the lawn for a moment, as +though considering; then, carefully raising her skirts in both hands, she +picked her way amongst the flower-beds, coming almost directly towards +him. Glancing round, he saw her objective—a rustic seat under a dark +cedar tree, and he saw, too, that she must pass within a few feet of +where he stood. She walked as one dreaming, or whose thoughts are far +distant, her head thrown back, her eyes half closed. The awakening, when +it came, was sudden enough.</p> + +<p>"Louise," he called to her softly, "Louise!"</p> + +<p>She dropped her skirts. For a moment he feared that she was going +to cry out.</p> + +<p>"Who is that?" she asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"It is I, Herbert Wrayson," he answered. "Don't be afraid. Shall I come +out to you, or will you come down the laurel path?"</p> + +<p>"You!" she murmured. "You!"</p> + +<p>He saw the light in her face, and his voice was hoarse with passion.</p> + +<p>"Come," he cried, "or I must fetch you! Louise! Sweetheart!"</p> + +<p>She came towards him a little timidly, her eyebrows arched, a divine +smile playing about her lips. She stood at the entrance to the laurel +grove and peered a little forward.</p> + +<p>"Where are you?" she asked. "Is it really you? I think that I am a little +afraid! Oh!"</p> + +<p>He took her into his arms with a little laugh of happiness. Time and life +itself stood still. Her feeble remonstrances were swept away in the tide +of his passion. His lips hung burning against hers.</p> + +<p>"My sweetheart!" he murmured. "Thank God you came!"...</p> + +<p>She disengaged herself presently. A clock from the stables was striking. +She counted the hours.</p> + +<p>"Eleven o'clock!" she exclaimed. "Herbert, how long have I been here?"</p> + +<p>"Don't ask me that," he answered. "Only tell me how long you are +going to stay."</p> + +<p>"Not another minute, really," she declared. "They will be sending out +search parties for me directly. And—Herbert—how did you get here?" she +demanded anxiously.</p> + +<p>"I climbed over the wall," he answered cheerfully. "There didn't seem to +be any other way."</p> + +<p>She seemed almost incredulous.</p> + +<p>"Didn't you see any watchmen?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"There was one at the gates," he answered. "I fancied he followed me up +the road, but I gave him the slip all right."</p> + +<p>"Be careful how you go back," she begged. "This place is supposed to be +closely watched."</p> + +<p>"Watched! Why?" he asked. "Are you afraid of robbers?"</p> + +<p>"How much did the Baroness tell you?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, except that I should find you here," he declared. "She made me +promise that I would wait for an opportunity of seeing you alone."</p> + +<p>"And why," she asked, "have you come?"</p> + +<p>He took her into his arms again.</p> + +<p>"I have learnt what love is," he murmured, "and I have forgotten the +other things."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well," she laughed, smoothing out her hair; "but the +other things may be very important to me."</p> + +<p>"A man named Stephen Heneage has taken up this Barnes affair," he +answered. "He saw you leave the flats that night, and he is likely, if he +thinks that it might lead to anything, to give the whole show away. He +warned me to get away from England and—but you want the truth, don't +you? All these are excuses! I came because I wanted you!—because I +couldn't live without you, Louise! Couldn't we steal away somewhere and +never go back? Why need we? We could go to Paris to-morrow, catch the +Orient express the next day—I know a dozen hiding-places where we should +be safe enough. We will make our own world and our own life—and forget!"</p> + +<p>"Forget!" She drew a little away from him. Her tone chilled him. +"Herbert," she said, "whatever happens, I must go now—this moment. Where +are you stopping?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>Lion d'Or</i>," he answered, "down in the village."</p> + +<p>"I will send a note in the morning," she said eagerly. "Only you must go +now, dear. Some one will be out to look for me, and I cannot think—I +must have a little time to decide. Be very careful as you go back. If you +are stopped, be sure and make them understand that you are an Englishman. +Good night!"</p> + +<p>He kissed her passionately. She yielded to his embrace, but almost +immediately drew herself away. He clutched at her hand, but she eluded +him. With swift footsteps she crossed the lawn. Just as she reached the +terrace, the windows opened once more and some one called her name.</p> + +<p>"I am coming in now," he heard her answer. "It has been such a +wonderful night!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV<br /><br /> +AN INVITATION TO DINNER</h3> + +<p>The landlord of the <i>Lion d'Or,</i> who had appeared for a moment to chat +with his guests while they took their morning coffee, pointed downwards +into the valley, where little clouds of mist hung over the lowlands.</p> + +<p>"The <i>messieurs</i> will find themselves hot to-day," he remarked. "Here, +only, there will be a breeze. Eleven hundred feet up, and only three +miles from the sea! It is wonderful, eh?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson pointed across towards the château, whose towers rose from the +bosom of the cool green woods.</p> + +<p>"There, also," he said, "it will be very pleasant. The château is as high +as we are, is it not so?"</p> + +<p>The landlord shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"There is little difference," he admitted, "and in the woods there is +always shade. But who may go there? Never was an estate kept so zealously +private, and, does monsieur know? Since yesterday a new order has been +issued. The villagers were forbidden even their ancient rights of walking +across the park! The head forester has posted a notice in the village."</p> + +<p>"I have heard something of it," Wrayson admitted. "Has any reason been +given. Are the family in residence there?"</p> + +<p>The landlord shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Madame la Baronne was never so exacting," he replied. "One hears that +she has lent the château to friends. Two ladies are there, and one +gentleman. It is all."</p> + +<p>"Do you know who they are?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>The landlord assumed an air of mystery.</p> + +<p>"One," he said, "is a young English lady. The other—well, they call her +Madame de Melbain."</p> + +<p>"What?"</p> + +<p>The exclamation came like a pistol-shot from Wrayson's fellow-guest at +the inn, who, up to now, had taken no part in the conversation. He had +turned suddenly round, and was facing the startled landlord.</p> + +<p>"Madame de Melbain," he repeated. "Monsieur, perhaps, knows the lady?"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Then the man who had called himself Duncan +looked away, frowning.</p> + +<p>"No!" he said, "I do not know her. The name is familiar, but there is no +lady of my acquaintance bearing it at present."</p> + +<p>The landlord looked a little disappointed.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he remarked, "I had hoped that monsieur would have been able to +give us a little information. There are many people in the village who +would like to know who this Madame de Melbain is, for it is since her +coming that all has been different. The park has been closed, the +peasants and farmers have received orders forbidding them to accept +boarders at present, and I myself am asked—for a consideration, I +admit—to receive no further guests. Naturally, we ask ourselves, +monsieur, what does it mean? One does not wish to gossip, but there is +much here to wonder at!"</p> + +<p>"What is she like, this Madame de Melbain?" Duncan asked.</p> + +<p>"No one has seen her, monsieur," the landlord answered. "She arrived in +a close carriage, since when she has not passed the lodge gates. She has +her own servants who wait upon her. Without doubt she is a person of some +importance! Possibly, though, she is eccentric. They say that every +entrance to the château is guarded, and that a cordon of men are always +watching."</p> + +<p>Wrayson laughed.</p> + +<p>"A little exaggeration, my friend, there, eh?"</p> + +<p>The landlord shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"One cannot tell," he declared. "This, at least, is singular," he +continued, bending forward confidentially. "Since the arrival of these +two ladies several strangers have been observed about the place, some of +whom have endeavoured to procure lodgings. They spoke French, but they +were not Frenchmen or Englishmen. True, this may be a coincidence, but +one can never tell. Monsieur has any further commands?"</p> + +<p>Monsieur had none, and the landlord withdrew, smiling and bowing.</p> + +<p>Duncan leaned across the table.</p> + +<p>"My French," he said deliberately, "is rotten. I couldn't understand half +of what that fellow said. Do you mind repeating it to me?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson did so, and his companion listened moodily. When he had finished, +Duncan was gazing steadfastly over towards the château, and knocking the +ashes from his pipe.</p> + +<p>"Sounds a little feudal, doesn't it?" he remarked, drawing his pouch +from his pocket. "However, I don't suppose it is any concern of yours +or of mine."</p> + +<p>Wrayson made no direct answer. He was fully conscious that his companion +was watching him closely, and he affected to be deeply interested in the +selection of a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"No!" he said at last; "it is no concern of ours, of course. And yet one +cannot help feeling a little interested. I noticed myself that the lodge +gates of the château were rather strictly guarded."</p> + +<p>"Very likely," the other answered. "Women of fashion who suffer from +nerves take strange fancies nowadays. This Madame de Melbain is probably +one of these."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"Very likely," he admitted. "What are you going to do with +yourself all day?"</p> + +<p>"Loaf! I am going to lie down in the fields there amongst the wild +flowers, in the shade of the woods," Duncan answered; "that is, if +one may take so great a liberty with the woods of madame! This sort +of country rather fascinates me," he added thoughtfully. "I have +lived so long in a land where the vegetation is a jungle and the +flowers are exotics. There is a species of exaggeration about it all. +I find this restful."</p> + +<p>"Africa?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>The other nodded silently. He did not seem inclined to continue the +conversation.</p> + +<p>"You are the second man I have met lately who has come home from Africa," +Wrayson remarked, "and you represent the opposite poles of life."</p> + +<p>"It is very possible," Duncan admitted. "We are a polyglot lot who come +from there."</p> + +<p>"You were in the war, of course?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"I was in the war," Duncan answered, "almost to the finish. Afterwards I +went into Rhodesia, and incidentally made money. That's all I have to +say about Africa. I hate the country, and I don't want to talk about it. +See you later, I suppose."</p> + +<p>He rose from his chair and stretched himself. Across the lawn the +landlord came hurrying, his face perturbed and uneasy. His bow to Wrayson +was subtly different. Here was perhaps an aristocrat under an assumed +name, a person to be, without doubt, conciliated.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur," he announced, with a little flourish of the white serviette +which, from habit, he was carrying, "there is outside a young lady from +the château who is inquiring for you."</p> + +<p>"Which way?" Wrayson demanded anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur will be pleased to follow me," the landlord answered.</p> + +<p>Louise was alone in a victoria, drawn up before the front door of the +inn. Wrayson saw at once that something had happened to disturb her. Even +under her white veil he knew that she was pale, and that there were rings +under her eyes. She leaned towards him and held out her hand in +conventional manner for the benefit of the landlord, who lingered upon +the steps.</p> + +<p>"Come round to the other side of the carriage, Herbert," she said. "I +have something to say to you. The coachman does not understand English. I +have tried him."</p> + +<p>Wrayson crossed behind the carriage and stood by her side.</p> + +<p>"Herbert," she asked, anxiously, "will you do something for me, something +I want you to do very much?"</p> + +<p>"If I can," he answered simply.</p> + +<p>"You can do this," she declared. "It is very easy. I want you to leave +this place this morning, go away, anywhere! You can go back to London, or +you can travel. Only start this morning."</p> + +<p>"Willingly," he answered, "on one condition."</p> + +<p>"What is it?" she asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"That you go with me," he declared.</p> + +<p>She shook her head impatiently.</p> + +<p>"You know that is not what I mean," she said reproachfully. "I was mad +last night. You took me by surprise and I forgot everything. I was awake +all night. This morning I can see things clearly. Nothing—of that +sort—is possible between you and me. So I want you to go away!"</p> + +<p>He shook his head, gently but firmly.</p> + +<p>"It isn't possible, Louise," he said. "You mustn't ask me to do anything +of that sort after last night. It's too late you see, dear. You belong to +me now. Nothing can alter that."</p> + +<p>"It is not too late," she answered passionately. "Last night was just +an hour of madness. I shall cut it out of my life. You must cut it out +of yours."</p> + +<p>He leaned over till his head nearly touched hers, and under the holland +dust-sheet which covered her knees he gripped her hand.</p> + +<p>"I will not," he answered. "I will not go away. You belong to me, and I +will have you!"</p> + +<p>She looked at him for a moment without speech. Wrayson's features, more +distinguished in a general way by delicacy than strength, had assumed a +curiously set and dogged appearance. His eyes met hers kindly but +mercilessly. He looked like a man who has spoken his last word.</p> + +<p>"Herbert," she murmured, "there are things which you do not know and +which I cannot tell you, but they stand between us! They must stand +between us forever!"</p> + +<p>"Of that," he said, "I mean to be the judge. And until you tell me what +they are, I shall treat them as though they did not exist."</p> + +<p>"I came here," she said, "to ask you, to beg you to go away."</p> + +<p>"Then I am afraid you must write your mission down a failure," he +answered doggedly, "for I refuse to go!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes flashed at him from underneath her veil. He felt the pressure +of her fingers upon his hand. He heard a little sigh—could it have been +of relief?</p> + +<p>"If I failed—" she began.</p> + +<p>"And you have failed," he said decidedly.</p> + +<p>"I was to bring you," she continued, "an invitation to dine to-night at +the château. It is only a verbal one, but perhaps you will forgive that."</p> + +<p>The colour streamed into his cheeks. He could scarcely believe his ears.</p> + +<p>"Louise!" he exclaimed, "you mean it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she answered softly. "It would be better for you, better, perhaps, +for me, if you would do as I ask—if you would go away and forget! But if +you will not do that, there is no reason why you should not come to the +château. A carriage will arrive for you at seven o'clock."</p> + +<p>"And you will come with me again into the gardens?" he whispered +passionately.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she murmured.</p> + +<p>The horses, teased by the flies, tossed their heads, and the jingling of +harness reminded Louise that half the village, from various vantage +points, were watching the interview between the young lady from the +château and the visitor at the inn.</p> + +<p>"I must go at once," she said to Wrayson. "About to-night, do not be +surprised at anything you see at the château. I have no time to say more. +If you notice anything that seems to you at all unusual, accept it +naturally. I will explain afterwards."</p> + +<p>She spoke a word to the immovable man on the box, and waved her hand to +Wrayson as the horses started forward. They were round the corner in a +moment, and out of sight. Wrayson turned back to the inn, but before he +had taken half a dozen paces he stopped short. He had happened to glance +towards the upper windows of the small hotel, and he caught a sudden +vision of a man's face—a familiar face, transformed, rigid, yet with +staring eyes following the departing carriage. Wrayson himself was +conscious of a quick shock of surprise, followed by a sense of +apprehension. What could there possibly have been in the appearance of +Louise to have brought a look like that into the face of his +fellow-guest?</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV<br /><br /> +THE MAN IN THE YELLOW BOOTS</h3> + +<p>The two men did not meet again until luncheon-time, Anglicized into a +one-o'clock meal for their benefit. Already seated at the table they +found a short fair man, in the costume of a pedestrian tourist. He wore a +tweed knickerbocker suit, and a knapsack lay upon the grass by his side. +As Wrayson and his fellow-guest arrived almost at the same time, the +newcomer rose and bowed.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, gentlemen!" he said. "I trust you will permit me a seat at +your table. It appears to be the only one."</p> + +<p>Duncan contented himself with a nod. Wrayson felt compelled to be a +little more civil. The man certainly seemed harmless enough.</p> + +<p>"A very delightful spot, gentlemen," he continued, "and a fine, a very +fine church that in the valley. I am spending my holiday taking +photographs of churches of a certain period in this vicinity. I am +looking forward to explore this one."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," Wrayson remarked, "that I do not know much of +ecclesiastical architecture, but the æsthetic effect of this one, at +least, is very fine."</p> + +<p>The newcomer nodded.</p> + +<p>"You are an artist perhaps, sir?" he asked innocently.</p> + +<p>"I hope so—in some degree," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"Every one is fundamentally an artist, I suppose, who is capable of +appreciating a work of beauty."</p> + +<p>Duncan smiled slightly to himself. So far he had not spoken.</p> + +<p>"It is all new country to me," the newcomer continued, "but from what I +have seen of it, I should think it a grand place for painters. Not much +for the ordinary tourist, eh?"</p> + +<p>"That depends," Wrayson answered, "upon the ordinary tourist."</p> + +<p>"Exactly! Quite so!" the little man agreed. "Of course, if one wanted a +quiet time, what could be better than this? There must be others who +think so besides yourselves."</p> + +<p>"Who?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"Your fellow-guests here."</p> + +<p>"We have no fellow-guests," Wrayson answered, a little incautiously.</p> + +<p>The newcomer leaned back in his chair with a disconcerted look.</p> + +<p>"Then I wonder why," he exclaimed, "the landlord told me that he had not +a single room."</p> + +<p>Wrayson bit his lip.</p> + +<p>"I fancy," he said, "that he is not in the habit of having people +stay here."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," the little fair man said, "that it is not an hospitable +village. I tried to get a room elsewhere, but, alas! with no success. +They do not seem to want tourists at St. Étarpe."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked at the knapsack, at the camera, and at the little man +himself. He spoke English easily, and without any trace of an accent. +His clothes, too, had the look of having come from an English +ready-made shop. Yet there was something about the man himself not +altogether British.</p> + +<p>"I fancy the people are busy getting ready for the harvest," Wrayson +remarked at last. "You will find lots of places as pretty as this along +the coast."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps so," the visitor admitted, "and yet when one has taken a fancy +to a place, it seems a pity to have to leave it so soon. You couldn't +speak a word to the landlord for me, sir, I suppose—you or your friend. +I don't fancy he understood my French very well."</p> + +<p>Wrayson shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it wouldn't be any use," he said. "As a matter of fact, I +know that he does not intend to take any more visitors. He has not the +staff to deal with them."</p> + +<p>"It is a pity," the little man said dejectedly. "I think that I must try +again in the village. By the by, sir, perhaps you can tell me to whom the +château there belongs?"</p> + +<p>"Madame la Baronne de Sturm," Wrayson answered. "At least, so our host +told me yesterday."</p> + +<p>"It is a very beautiful place—very beautiful," the tourist said +reverently. "I dare say there is a chapel there, too! Can one gain +admission there, do you know, sir?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson laid down his knife and fork.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said good-humouredly, "I'm not a guide-book, you know, +and I only arrived here yesterday myself. You've reached the limit of my +information. You had better try the landlord. He will tell you all that +you want to know."</p> + +<p>Duncan pushed his chair back. He had eaten very little luncheon, but he +was filling his pipe preparatory to leaving the table. As soon as it +began to draw, he rose and turned to Wrayson. The little tourist he +absolutely ignored, as he had done all the time during the meal.</p> + +<p>"I should like a word with you before you go out," he said.</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded, and followed him in a few minutes to the summer-house at +the end of the lawn. Duncan did not beat about the bush.</p> + +<p>"That little brute over there," he said, inclining his head towards the +table, "is neither an Englishman nor a tourist. I have seen him before, +and I never forget a face."</p> + +<p>"What is he then?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"Heaven knows what he is now," Duncan answered. "I saw him last at +Colenso, where he narrowly escaped being shot for a spy. He is either a +Dutchman or a German, and whatever he may be up to here, I'll swear +ecclesiastical architecture is not his game."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Wrayson had turned involuntarily towards +the château, and Duncan had followed suit. They both looked up the +broad green avenue to where the windows of the great building flashed +back the sunlight. At the same moment their mutual action was realized +by both of them.</p> + +<p>Wrayson first turned away and glanced round at the table which they had +just quitted. The little man, who was still seated there, had lit a cigar +and was talking to the waiter. He looked back again and moved his head +thoughtfully in the direction of the château.</p> + +<p>"He asked questions about the château," Wrayson remarked. "Do you suppose +that there can be anything going on there to interest him?"</p> + +<p>"You should know better than I," Duncan answered. "You received a visit +this morning from one of the two ladies who are staying there."</p> + +<p>Wrayson turned a little pale. He looked at Duncan steadily for a moment. +A giant in height, his features, too, were of a large and resolute type. +His eyes were clear and truthful; his expression, notwithstanding a +certain gloom which scarcely accorded with his years and apparent +health, was unmistakably honest. Wrayson felt instinctively that he was +to be trusted.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "I should like to tell you the truth—as much of it +as is necessary. I happen to know that the young lady with whom you saw +me talking this morning, and who is a friend of the Baroness de Sturm's, +is suspected in certain quarters of being implicated in a—criminal +affair which took place recently in London. I myself, in a lesser degree, +am also under suspicion. I came over here to warn her."</p> + +<p>Duncan was looking very grave indeed.</p> + +<p>"In a criminal affair," he repeated. "That is a little vague."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry," Wrayson answered, "but I cannot very well be more +explicit. The matter is one in which a good many other people are +concerned, and I might add that it is a hopeless mystery to me. All I +know is that a crime was committed; that this young lady was present +under suspicious circumstances; that I, in certain evidence I had to +give, concealed the fact of her presence; and that now a third person +turns up, who also knew of the young lady's presence, but who was not +called upon to give evidence, who is working on his own account to clear +up the whole affair. He happens to be a friend of mine, and he warned me +frankly to clear out."</p> + +<p>"I am beginning to follow you," Duncan said thoughtfully. "Now what +about Madame de Melbain?"</p> + +<p>"I know absolutely nothing of her," Wrayson answered. "I found out where +the young lady was from the Baroness de Sturm, with whom she was living +in London, and I came over to warn her."</p> + +<p>"The young lady was living with the Baroness de Sturm?" Duncan repeated. +"Is she, then, an orphan?"</p> + +<p>"No!" Wrayson answered. "She is, for some reason—I do not know +why—estranged from her family. Now the question arises, has this fellow +here come over to track her down? Is he an English detective?"</p> + +<p>Duncan turned deliberately round and stared at the person whom they were +discussing.</p> + +<p>"I should doubt it very much," he answered. "For my part, I don't believe +for a moment that he is an Englishman at all."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to hear you say so," Wrayson declared. "But the question +is, if he is not on this business, what the devil is he doing here?"</p> + +<p>"Have you the <i>entrée</i> to the chateâu?" Duncan asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"I am invited to dine there this evening," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"Then, if I were you," Duncan said, "I should make a point of +ascertaining, if you can, the personality of this Madame de Melbain."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"I shall see her, of course," he said, "and I will do so."</p> + +<p>"My own idea," Duncan said deliberately, "is that it is in connection +with her presence here that the landlord of the inn and the villagers +have received these injunctions about strangers. Try and find out what +you can about her, and in the meantime I will look after the gentleman +over there. He wants to be friendly—I will make a companion of him. When +you come back to-night we will have another talk."</p> + +<p>"It's awfully good of you," Wrayson said. "And now—I've one thing +more to say."</p> + +<p>Duncan nodded.</p> + +<p>"Go on," he said.</p> + +<p>"I have taken you into my confidence so far as was possible," Wrayson +said slowly. "I am going to ask you a question now."</p> + +<p>"I cannot promise to answer it," Duncan declared, taking up his pipe and +carefully refilling it.</p> + +<p>"Naturally! But I am going to ask it," Wrayson said. "An hour or so ago I +was talking to the young lady in front of the inn, and you were watching +us. I saw your face at the window as she was driving off."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>The monosyllable was hard and dry.</p> + +<p>"You are neither an inquisitive nor an emotional person," Wrayson said. +"I am sure of that. I want an explanation."</p> + +<p>"Of what?"</p> + +<p>"Of your suddenly becoming both!"</p> + +<p>Duncan had lit his pipe now, and smoked for a few moments furiously.</p> + +<p>"I will not bandy words with you," he said at last. "You want an +explanation which I cannot give."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked as he felt, dissatisfied.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "I'm not asking for your confidence. I'm simply +asking you to explain why the sight of that young lady should be a matter +of emotion to you. You know who she is, I am convinced. What else?"</p> + +<p>Duncan shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm sorry," he said. "You may trust me or not, as you like. All I can +say about myself is this. I've been up against it hard—very hard. So far +as regards the ordinary affairs of life I simply don't count. I'm a +negation—a purely subjective personage. I may be able to help you a +little here—I shall certainly never be in your way. My interest in the +place—there, I will tell you that—is purely of a sentimental nature. My +interest in life itself is something of the same sort. Take my advice. +Let it go at that."</p> + +<p>"I will," Wrayson declared, with sudden heartiness.</p> + +<p>Duncan nodded.</p> + +<p>"I'll go and look after our little friend in the yellow boots," he said.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI<br /><br /> +MADAME DE MELBAIN</h3> + +<p>Punctually at half-past seven the carriage arrived to take Wrayson to the +château. A few minutes' drive along a road fragrant with the perfume of +hay, and with the pleasant sound of the reaping machines in his ears, and +the carriage turned into the park through the great iron gates, which +opened this time without demur. By the side of the road was a clear trout +stream, a little further away a herd of deer stood watching the carriage +pass. The park was uncultivated but picturesque, becoming more wooded as +they climbed the hill leading to the chateâu. Wrayson smiled to himself +as he remembered that this magnificent home and estate belonged to the +woman who was his neighbour at Battersea, and whom he himself had been +more than half inclined to put down as an adventuress.</p> + +<p>A major-domo in quiet black clothes, who seemed to reflect in his tone +and manner the subdued splendour of the place, received him at the door, +passing him on at once to a footman in powdered hair and resplendent +livery. Across a great hall, whose white stone floor, height, and +stained-glass windows gave Wrayson the impression that he had found his +way by mistake into the nave of a cathedral, he was ushered into a +drawing-room, whose modernity and comparatively low ceiling were almost a +relief. Here there were books and flowers and music, some exquisite +water-colours upon the white walls, newspapers and magazines lying about, +which gave the place a habitable air. A great semicircular window +commanded a wonderful view of the park, but Wrayson had little time to +admire it. A door was opened at the further end of the room, and he heard +the soft rustling of a woman's gown upon the carpet. It was Louise who +came towards him.</p> + +<p>She was dressed in white muslin, unrelieved by ornament or any suggestion +of colour. Her cheeks were unusually pale, and the shadows under her eyes +seemed to speak of trouble. Yet Wrayson thought that he had never seen +her look more beautiful. She gave him her hand with a faint smile of +welcome, and permitted him to raise it to his lips.</p> + +<p>"This is very, very foolish," she said softly, "and I know that I ought +to be ashamed of myself."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary," he answered, "I think that it is very natural. But, +seriously, I feel a little overpowered. You won't want to live always in +a castle, will you, Louise?"</p> + +<p>She sighed, and smiled, and sighed again.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that our castle, Herbert," she murmured, "will exist only in +the air! But listen. I must speak to you before the others come in."</p> + +<p>"I am all attention," he assured her.</p> + +<p>"It is about Madame de Melbain," she began, a little hesitatingly.</p> + +<p>He waited for her to continue. She seemed to be in some difficulty.</p> + +<p>"I want you to watch and do just what we others do," she said, "and not +to be surprised if some of our arrangements seem a little curious. For +instance, although she is the elder, do not give her your arm for +dinner. She will go in first alone, and you must take me."</p> + +<p>"I can assure you," Wrayson said, smiling, "that I shall make no +difficulty about that."</p> + +<p>"And she doesn't like to be talked to very much," Louise continued.</p> + +<p>"I will humour her in that also," Wrayson promised. "She is a good sort +to let me come here at all."</p> + +<p>"She is very kind and very considerate," Louise said, "and her life has +been a very unhappy one."</p> + +<p>Wrayson moved his chair a little nearer.</p> + +<p>"Need we talk about her any more?" he asked. "There is so much I want to +say to you about ourselves."</p> + +<p>She looked at him for a moment, a little sadly, a little wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Ah! don't," she murmured. "Don't talk about definite things at all. For +to-night—to-night only, let us drift!"</p> + +<p>He smiled at her reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"Don't be afraid," he said. "I am not going to ask you any questions. I +am not going to ask for any explanations. I think that we have passed all +that. It is of the future I wanted to speak."</p> + +<p>"Don't," she begged softly. "Of the past I dare not think, nor of the +future. It is only the present which belongs to us."</p> + +<p>"The present and the future," he answered firmly.</p> + +<p>She rose suddenly to her feet, and Wrayson instinctively followed her +example. They were no longer alone. Two women, who had entered by a door +at the further end of the apartment, were slowly approaching them. The +foremost was tall and dark, a little slim, perhaps, but with an elegant +figure, and a carriage of singular dignity. Her face was youthful, and +her brown eyes were soft and clear as the eyes of a girl, but her dark +hair was plentifully streaked with grey, and there was about her whole +appearance an air of repressed sadness.</p> + +<p>"This is Mr. Wrayson, is it not?" she asked, in a very sweet voice, but +with a strong foreign accent. "We have so few visitors that one can +scarcely make a mistake. You are very welcome."</p> + +<p>She did not offer to shake hands, and Wrayson contented himself with +a low bow.</p> + +<p>"You are very kind," he murmured.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur le Baron," she remarked, turning to an elderly gentleman who +had just entered, "will doubtless find your coming pleasant. The +entertainment of three ladies must have seemed at times a little trying. +Let me make you gentlemen known to one another, Monsieur Wrayson, +Monsieur le Baron de Courcelles. And Ida," she added, turning to her +companion, who had moved a few steps apart, "permit that I present to +you, also, Mr. Wrayson—Mademoiselle de Courcelles."</p> + +<p>The conversation for a moment or two followed the obvious lines. Madame +de Melbain and Louise had drawn a little apart; a few remarks as to the +beauty of the chateâu and its situation passed between Wrayson and the +Baron. The name of its owner was mentioned, and Wrayson indicated his +acquaintance with her. At the sound of her name, Madame de Melbain +turned somewhat abruptly round, and seemed to be listening; but at that +moment the door was thrown open, and the major-domo of the household, +who had received Wrayson, announced dinner. He directly addressed Madame +de Melbain.</p> + +<p>"Madame is served," he murmured respectfully.</p> + +<p>The little procession arranged itself as Louise had intimated. Madame de +Melbain led the way, ushered by the major-domo and followed immediately +by the Baron and Mademoiselle de Courcelles. Wrayson, with Louise, +brought up the rear. They crossed the white flagged hall and entered an +apartment which Wrayson, although his capacity for wonder was +diminishing, felt himself compelled to pause and admire. It was of great +height, and again the curiously shaped windows were filled with stained +glass. The oak-panelled walls, black with age, were hung with portraits, +sombre and yet vivid, and upon a marble pedestal at the end of the room, +lifelike, and untouched by the centuries, stood a wonderful presentation +of Ralph de St. Étarpe, the founder of the house, clad in the armour of +his days. The dinner table, with its brilliant and modern appurtenances +of flowers and plate, standing in the middle of the floor, seemed like a +minute and yet startling anachronism. The brilliant patches of scarlet +geranium, the deep blue livery of the two footmen, the glitter of the +Venetian glass upon the table, were like notes of alien colour amongst +surroundings whose chief characteristic was a magnificent restraint, and +yet such dignity as it was possible to impart into the everyday business +of eating and drinking was certainly manifest in the meal, which +presently took its leisurely course.</p> + +<p>Wrayson, although no one could accuse him of a lack of <i>savoir faire</i>, +found himself scarcely at his ease. Madame de Melbain; erect; dignified, +and beautiful, sat at the head of the table, and although she addressed +a remark to each of them occasionally, she remained always +unapproachable. The Baron made only formal attempts at conversation, and +Mademoiselle de Courcelles was absolutely silent. Wrayson was unable to +divest himself of the feeling of representing an alien presence amongst a +little community drawn closely together by some mysterious tie. Louise +was his only link with them, and to Louise he decided to devote himself +entirely, regardless of the apparent demands of custom. His position at +the table enabled him to do this, and very soon he discovered that it was +precisely what was expected of him. The conversation between the others, +such as it was, lapsed into German, or some kindred tongue. Wrayson found +himself able presently to talk confidentially with Louise.</p> + +<p>"Remember," he said, after a slight pause, "that I have finished +altogether with the role of investigator. I no longer have any curiosity +about anything. Still, I think that there is something which I ought to +tell you."</p> + +<p>She smiled.</p> + +<p>"You may tell me as much as you like," she said, "as long as you don't +ask questions."</p> + +<p>"Exactly! Well, there is another Englishman staying at the <i>Lion d'Or.</i> +He appears to be a decent fellow, and a gentleman. I am not going to talk +about him. I imagine that he is harmless."</p> + +<p>"We have heard of him," Louise murmured. "It certainly appears as though +he were only an ordinary tourist. Has any one else arrived?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Wrayson answered, "some one else has arrived, and I want to tell +you about him."</p> + +<p>Louise was obviously disturbed. She refused a course a little +impatiently, and turned towards Wrayson anxiously.</p> + +<p>"But the landlord," she said in a low tone, "has orders to receive no +more guests."</p> + +<p>"This man arrived to luncheon to-day," Wrayson answered. "The landlord +could not refuse him that. He wished for a room and was told that he +could not be taken in."</p> + +<p>"Well, who is he, what is he like?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"He is a miserable sort of bounder—an imitation cockney tourist, with +ready-made English clothes, a knapsack, and a camera. I should have felt +suspicious about him myself, but the other fellow whom I told you about, +who is staying at the inn, recognized him. He had seen him abroad, and +what he told me seems decisive. I am afraid that he is a spy."</p> + +<p>Wrayson cursed himself for a moment that he had been so outspoken, for +the girl by his side seemed almost on the point of collapse. Her eyes +were full of fear, and she clutched at the tablecloth as though overcome +with a spasm of terror.</p> + +<p>"Don't be alarmed," Wrayson whispered in her ear. "I am sure, I am quite +sure that he is not here for what you may fear. I don't believe he is an +Englishman at all."</p> + +<p>The girl recovered herself amazingly.</p> + +<p>"I was not thinking of myself," she said quietly; and Wrayson noticed +that her eyes were fixed upon the pale, distinguished face of the woman +who sat with a certain air of isolation at the head of the table.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII<br /><br /> +THE SPY</h3> + +<p>Wrayson found himself a few minutes later alone with the Baron, who, with +some solemnity, rose and took the chair opposite to him. Conversation +between them, however, languished, for the Baron spoke only in +monosyllables, and his attitude gave Wrayson the idea that he viewed his +presence at the chateâu with disfavour. With stiff punctiliousness, he +begged Wrayson to try some wonderful Burgundy, and passed a box of +cigarettes. He did not, however, open any topic of conversation, and +Wrayson, embarrassed in his choice of subjects by the fact that any +remark he could make might sound like an attempt at gratifying his +curiosity, remained also silent. In a very few minutes the Baron rose.</p> + +<p>"You will take another glass of wine, sir?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Wrayson rose too with alacrity, and bowed his refusal. They recrossed the +great hall and entered the drawing-room. Louise and Madame de Melbain +were talking earnestly together in a corner, and from the look that the +latter threw at him as they entered, Wrayson was convinced that in some +way he was concerned with the subject of their conversation. It was a +look deliberate and scrutinizing, in a sense doubtful, and yet not +unkindly. Behind it all, Wrayson felt that there was something which he +could not understand, there was something of the mystery in those dark +sad eyes which seemed to pervade the whole atmosphere of the place and +the lives of these people.</p> + +<p>Louise rose as he approached and motioned him to take her vacated place.</p> + +<p>"Madame de Melbain would like to talk to you for a few moments," she said +quietly. "Afterwards will you come on to the terrace?"</p> + +<p>She swept away through the open window, and was at once followed by the +Baron. Mademoiselle de Courcelles was playing very softly on a grand +piano in an unseen corner of the apartment. Wrayson and his hostess +were alone.</p> + +<p>She turned towards him with a faint smile. She spoke with great +deliberation, but very clearly, and there was in her voice some hidden +quality, indefinable in words, yet both musical and singularly +attractive.</p> + +<p>"I shall not keep you very long, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Louise has been +talking to me about you. She is happy, I think, to have found a friend so +chivalrous and so discerning."</p> + +<p>Wrayson smiled doubtfully as he answered.</p> + +<p>"It is very little that I have been able to do for her," he said. "My +complaint is that she will not give me the opportunity of doing more."</p> + +<p>"You are too modest," Madame de Melbain said slowly. "Louise has told me +a good deal. I think that you have been a very faithful friend."</p> + +<p>Wrayson bowed but said nothing. If Madame de Melbain had anything to +say to him, he preferred to afford her the opportunity of an +attentive silence.</p> + +<p>"Louise and I," Madame de Melbain continued, "were school friends. So +you see that I have known her all my life. She has had her troubles, as +I have! Only mine are a righteous judgment upon me, and hers she has +done nothing to deserve. It is the burden of others which she fastens +upon her back."</p> + +<p>Wrayson felt instinctively that his continued silence was what she most +desired. She was speaking to him, but her eyes had travelled far away. It +was as though she had come into touch with other and greater things.</p> + +<p>"Louise has not told me everything," she continued. "There is much that +she will not confess. So it is necessary, Mr. Wrayson, that I ask you a +question. Do you care for her?"</p> + +<p>"I do!" Wrayson answered simply.</p> + +<p>"You wish to marry her?"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, if she would!"</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain leaned a little forward. Her cheeks were still entirely +colourless, but some spark of emotion glittered in her full dark eyes.</p> + +<p>"You will be alone with her presently. Try and persuade her to marry you +at once. There is nothing but an absurd scruple between you! Remember +that always."</p> + +<p>"It is a scruple which up till now has been too strong for me," Wrayson +remarked quietly.</p> + +<p>She measured him with her eyes, as though making a deliberate estimate of +his powers.</p> + +<p>"A man," she said, "should be able to do much with the woman whom he +cares for—the woman who cares for him."</p> + +<p>"If I could believe that," he murmured.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders slightly. He understood the gesture.</p> + +<p>"You are right," he declared, with more confidence. "I will do my best."</p> + +<p>She moved her head slowly, a sign of assent, also of dismissal. He rose +to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Louise is on the terrace," she said. "Will you give me your arm? The +Baron is there also. We will join them."</p> + +<p>They stepped through the high French windows on to the carpeted terrace. +It seemed to Wrayson that they had passed into a veritable land of +enchantment. The service of dinner had been a somewhat leisurely affair, +and the hour was already late. The moon was slowly rising behind the +trees, but the landscape was at present wrapped in the soft doubtful +obscurity of a late twilight. The flowers, with whose perfume the air was +faintly fragrant, remained unseen, or visible only in blurred outline; +the tall trees, whose tops were unstirred by even the slightest breeze, +stood out like silent sentinels against the violet sky. Madame de Melbain +stopped short upon the threshold of the terrace, with head slightly +thrown back, and half-closed eyes.</p> + +<p>"Suzanne was right," she murmured, "there is peace here—peace, if only +it would last!"</p> + +<p>The Baron came hastily forward. He seemed to be eyeing Wrayson a little +doubtfully. Madame de Melbain pointed down the avenue.</p> + +<p>"I think," she said, "that it would be pleasant to walk for a little +way. Give me your arm, Baron. We will go first. Mr. Wrayson will follow +with Louise."</p> + +<p>They descended the steps, crossed the lawn, and through a gate into the +broad grass-grown avenue, cut through the woods to the road. Wrayson at +first was silent, and Louise seemed a little nervous. More than once she +started at the sound of a rabbit scurrying through the undergrowth. +There was something a little mysterious about the otherwise profound +silence of the impenetrable woods. Even their footsteps fell noiselessly +upon the spongy turf.</p> + +<p>Wrayson spoke at last. They had fallen sufficiently far behind the others +to be out of earshot.</p> + +<p>"Do you know what Madame de Melbain has been saying to me?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Louise turned her head a little. There was the faintest flicker of a +smile about her lips.</p> + +<p>"I cannot imagine," she declared, looking once more straight ahead.</p> + +<p>"She has been inciting me to bold deeds," Wrayson said. "How should you +like to be carried off in mediæval fashion—married, willing or +unwilling?"</p> + +<p>"Is that what Madame de Melbain has been recommending you to do?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>He nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes! And I am thinking of taking her advice," he said coolly.</p> + +<p>She laughed quietly, yet his ears were quick, and he caught the note of +sadness which a moment later crept into her eyes.</p> + +<p>"It would solve so much that is troublesome, wouldn't it?" she remarked. +"May I ask if that has been the sole topic of your conversation?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely! Louise! Dear!"</p> + +<p>She turned a little towards him. His voice was compelling. The fingers of +her hand closed readily enough upon his, and the soft touch thrilled him.</p> + +<p>"You have some fancy in your brain," he said, in a low, passionate +whisper. "It is nothing but a fancy, I am assured. You have heard what +your own friend has advised. You don't doubt that I love you, Louise, +that I want to make you happy."</p> + +<p>She leaned a little towards him. A sudden wave of abandonment seemed to +have swept over her. He drew her face to his and kissed her with a sudden +passion. Her lips met his soft and unresisting. Already he felt the song +of triumph in his heart. She was his! She could never be anybody else's +now. Very softly she disengaged herself. The other two were still in +sight, and already the curve of the moon was creeping over the trees.</p> + +<p>"Don't spoil it," she murmured. "Don't talk of to-morrow, or the future! +We have to-night."...</p> + +<p>There followed minutes of which he took no count, and then of a sudden +her hand clutched his arm.</p> + +<p>"Listen," she whispered hoarsely.</p> + +<p>He came suddenly down to earth. They were walking in the shadow of the +trees, close to the side of the wood, and their footsteps upon the soft +turf were noiseless. Wrayson almost held his breath as he leaned towards +the dark chaos of the thickly planted trees. Only a few yards away he +could distinctly hear the dry snapping of twigs. Some one was keeping +pace with them inside the wood, now he could see the stooping figure of +a man creeping stealthily along. A little exclamation broke from +Louise's lips.</p> + +<p>"It is a spy after all," she muttered. "They said that every entrance to +the place was guarded."</p> + +<p>Wrayson had time to take only one quick step towards the wood, when a +shrill cry rang out upon the still night. Then there was the trampling +under foot of bushes and undergrowth, the sound of men's voices, one +English and threatening, the other guttural and terrified. Madame de +Melbain and her escort had paused and were looking back. Louise was +moving towards them, and Wrayson was on the point of entering the wood. +Into the little semicircle formed by these four people there suddenly +strode Wrayson's friend from the inn, grasping by the collar a shrinking +and protesting figure in a much dishevelled tweed suit.</p> + +<p>"We were right, Mr. Wrayson," the former remarked quietly. "This fellow +has been spying round all day. You had better ask your friends what they +wish done with him."</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /><br /> +THE SCENE IN THE AVENUE</h3> + +<p>There followed a few minutes of somewhat curious silence. At the first +sound of the voice of the man who had made so startling an appearance in +their midst, a cry, only half suppressed, had broken from Madame de +Melbain's lips. She had moved impulsively a little forward; the moon, +visible now from over the tree tops, was shining faintly upon her +absolutely colourless face and dilated eyes. For some reason she seemed +terror-stricken, both she and Louise, who was clinging now to her arm. +Neither of them seemed even to have glanced at the cowering figure of the +man, who had relapsed now into a venomous silence. Both of them were +gazing at his captor, and upon their faces was the strangest expression +which Wrayson had ever seen on any human features. It was as though they +stood upon the edge of the world and peered downwards, into the forbidden +depths; as though they suddenly found themselves in the presence of a +thing so wonderful that thought and speech alike were chained. Wrayson +involuntarily followed the direction of their rapt gaze. The stranger +certainly presented a somewhat formidable appearance. He was standing +upon slightly higher ground, and the massive proportions of his tall, +powerful figure stood out with almost startling distinctness against the +empty background. His face was half in the shadow, yet it seemed to +Wrayson that some touch of the mystery which was quivering in the drawn +face of the two women was also reflected in his dimly seen features. +Something indefinable was in the air, something so mysterious and +wonderful, that voices seemed stricken dumb, and life itself suspended. +An owl flew slowly out from the wood with ponderous flapping of wings, +and sailed over their heads. Every one started: Madame de Melbain gave a +half-stifled shriek. The strain was over. Louise and she were half +sobbing now in one another's arms.</p> + +<p>"I will leave this fellow to be dealt with as the owners of the chateâu +may direct," the stranger said stiffly, turning to Wrayson. "You can tell +them all that we know about him."</p> + +<p>He turned on his heel, but the Baron laid his hand upon his shoulder and +peered into his face inquisitively.</p> + +<p>"<i>We</i> should like to know," he said, "whom we have to thank for the +capture of this intruder!"</p> + +<p>"I am a stranger here, and to all of you," was the quiet answer. "You owe +me no thanks. I have seen something of this fellow before," he added, +pointing to his captive, who was now standing sullenly in the centre of +the group. "I felt sure that he was up to no good, and I watched him."</p> + +<p>For the first time the fair-haired little tourist, who had been dragged +so submissively into their midst, suffered a gleam of intelligence to +appear in his face. He changed his position so that he could see his +captor better.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he muttered, "you have seen me before, eh? And I you, perhaps! Let +me think! Was it—"</p> + +<p>Wrayson's friend leaned a little forwards, and with the careless ease of +one flicking away a fly, he struck the speaker with the back of his hand +across the face. The blow was not a particularly severe one, but its +victim collapsed upon the turf.</p> + +<p>"Look here," his assailant said, standing for a moment over him, "you can +go on and finish your sentence if you like. I only want to warn you, that +if you do, I will break every bone in your body, one by one, the next +time we meet. Go on, if you think it worth while."</p> + +<p>The man on the ground was dumb, because he was afraid. But the same +thought presented itself to all of them. The Baron, who was least of all +affected, expressed it.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, sir," he said, "you will not object to telling me—the Baron de +Courcelles—whom we have to thank for the discovery of this—intruder!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson's friend edged a little away. There was no response in his manner +to the courtesy with which the Baron had sought to introduce himself.</p> + +<p>"You have nothing to thank me for," he said shortly. "My name would be +quite unknown to you, and I am leaving this part of the world at once. +Permit me to wish you good evening!"</p> + +<p>He had already turned on his heel when Madame de Melbain's voice +arrested him. Clear and peremptory, the first words which had passed her +lips since the surprise had come to them, seemed somehow to introduce a +new note into an atmosphere from which an element of tragedy had never +been lacking.</p> + +<p>"Please stop!"</p> + +<p>He turned and faced her with obvious unwillingness. She stretched out her +hand as though forbidding him to go, but addressed at the same time the +two men, apparently gamekeepers, who had suddenly emerged from the wood.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Robert," she said, "we have caught this man trespassing in the +woods here, notwithstanding the precautions which I understood you had +taken. Take him away at once, if you please. I trust that you will be +able to hand him over to the gendarmes."</p> + +<p>Monsieur Robert, the steward of the estates, an elderly man, whose face +was twitching with anxiety, stepped forward with a low bow.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "we had word of this intrusion. We were even now upon +the track of this ruffian. There was another, also, who climbed the +wall—ah! I see him! The Englishman there!"</p> + +<p>"He is our friend," Madame de Melbain said. "You must not interfere +with him."</p> + +<p>"As Madame wills! Come, you rascal," he added, gripping his prisoner by +the shoulder. "We will show you what it means to climb over walls and +trespass on the estate of Madame la Baronne. Come then!"</p> + +<p>The intruder accepted the situation with the most philosophic calm. Only +one remark he ventured to make as he was led off.</p> + +<p>"It is not hospitable, this! I only wished to see the chateâu by +moonlight!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson's fellow guest at the <i>Lion d'Or</i> turned to follow them.</p> + +<p>"The fellow might try to escape," he muttered; but again Madame de +Melbain called to him.</p> + +<p>"You must not go away," she said, "yet!"</p> + +<p>Then she moved forward with smooth, deliberate footsteps, yet with +something almost supernatural in her white face and set, dilated eyes. It +was as though she were looking once more through the windows of the +world, as though she could see the figures of dead men playing once more +their part in the game of life. And she looked always at the Englishman.</p> + +<p>"Listen," she said, "there is something about you, sir, which I do not +understand. Who are you, and where do you come from?"</p> + +<p>He made no answer. Only he held out his hand as though to keep her away, +and drew a little further back.</p> + +<p>"You shall not escape," she continued, the words leaving her lips with a +sort of staccato incisiveness, crisp and emotional. "No! you are here, +and you shall answer. Who are you who come here to mock us all; because +it is a dead man who speaks with your voice, and looks with your eyes? +You will not dare to say that you are Duncan Fitzmaurice!"</p> + +<p>The figure in the shadows seemed to loom larger and larger. He was no +longer shrinking away.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of the man of whom you speak!" he declared. "I am a +wanderer. I have no name and no home."</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain reeled and would have fallen. Then for a moment events +seemed to leap forward. White and fainting, she lay in the arms of the +man who had sprung to her succour, yet through her half-opened eyes there +flashed a strange and wonderful light—a light of passionate and amazing +content. He held her, almost roughly, for several moments, yet his lips +were pressed to hers with a tenderness almost indescribable. No one of +the little group moved. Wrayson felt simply that events, impossible for +him to understand, had marched too quickly for him. He stood like a man +in a dream, whose limbs are rigid, whose brain alone is working. And the +others, too, seemed to have become part of a silent and wonderful +tableau. For years after Wrayson carried with him the memory of those few +minutes,—the perfume from the woods, faint but penetrating; the shadowy +light, the passionate faces of the man and the woman, the woman yielding +to a beautiful dream, and the man to a moment of divine madness. +Movement, when it came, came from the principal actors in that wonderful +scene. Madame de Melbain was alone, supported in Louise's arms, the +Englishman's heavy footsteps were already audible, crashing through the +undergrowth. Louise pointed to the wood and called out to Wrayson:</p> + +<p>"Follow him! Don't let him out of your sight! Quick!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson turned and sped down the avenue. When he reached the wall, he +stood there and waited. Presently Duncan came crashing through the +wood and vaulted the wall. Wrayson met him in the middle of the hard +white road.</p> + +<p>"We will walk back to the <i>Lion d'Or</i> together," he said calmly, "I have +a few things to say to you!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX<br /><br /> +A SUBSTANTIAL GHOST</h3> + +<p>Monsieur Jules, of the <i>Lion d'Or,</i> was in a state of excitement +bordering upon frenzy. Events were happening indeed with him, this placid +August weather. First the occupancy of the château by the mysterious +lady, and the subsequent edict of the steward against all strangers; then +the coming of this tourist yesterday, who had gone for an evening stroll +without paying his bill, and was now a prisoner of the law, Heaven only +knew on what charge! Added to this—a matter of excitement enough +surely—the giant Englishman, who had been his guest for nearly three +weeks—a model guest too,—had departed at a minute's notice, though not, +the saints be praised, without paying his bill. And now, though the hour +was yet scarcely nine o'clock, a carriage with steaming horses was +standing at his door, and the beautiful young English lady was herself +inside his inn. He was indeed conducting her down the grey stone passage +out on to the rose-bordered garden, which was the pride of his heart, and +where monsieur, the remaining Englishman, was smoking his morning +cigarette.</p> + +<p>She barely waited until Monsieur Jules had bowed himself out of hearing +distance. She looked at Wrayson, at the table laid for one only, and at +the empty garden.</p> + +<p>"Where is he—your friend?" she demanded breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Gone," Wrayson answered. "I am sorry, but I did my best. He went away +at daylight. I saw him off, but I could not keep him."</p> + +<p>"Where to?" she asked. "You know that, at least."</p> + +<p>He pointed towards the distant coast line.</p> + +<p>"In that direction! That is all I know."</p> + +<p>"He told you nothing before he went?" she asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all," he answered. "He refused to discuss what had happened. +Sit down, Louise," he added firmly. "I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>He placed a chair for her under the trees. She sank into it a +little wearily.</p> + +<p>"A certain measure of ignorance," he said, "I am willing to put up with, +but when you exhibit such extraordinary interest in another man, I +really feel that my limit has been reached. Who is he, Louise? You must +tell me, please!"</p> + +<p>"I wish I could tell you," she answered. "I wish I could say that I knew. +Half the night the three of us have talked and wondered. I have heard +plenty of theories as to a second life on some imaginary planet, but I +never heard of the dead who lived again here, in this world!"</p> + +<p>He looked puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," he asked, "that he was like some one whom you believed +to be dead?"</p> + +<p>She was silent for a moment. The sun was hot even where they sat, but he +fancied that he saw her shiver. She looked into his face, and something +of the terror of the night before was in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"To us," she said slowly, "to Madame de Melbain and to me, he was a +ghost, an actual apparition. He spoke to us with the voice of one whom +we know to be dead. He came to us, in his form."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked across at her with a quiet smile.</p> + +<p>"There was nothing of the ghost about Duncan!" he remarked. "I should +consider him a remarkably substantial person. Don't you think that we +were all a little overwrought last night? A strong likeness and a little +imagination will often work wonders."</p> + +<p>"If it was a likeness only," she said, "why did he leave us so abruptly, +why has he left this place at a moment's notice to avoid us?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson was silent for a few seconds.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "this is a matter of common sense after all. If you +were <i>not</i> deceived by a likeness, it was the man himself! That goes +without saying. What reasons had you for supposing that he was dead?"</p> + +<p>"The newspapers, the War Office, even the return of his effects."</p> + +<p>"From where?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"From South Africa. He was shot through the lungs in Natal!"</p> + +<p>"Men have turned up before, after having been reported dead," he remarked +sententiously.</p> + +<p>"But he was in the army," she replied. "Don't you see that if he was +alive now, he would be a deserter. He has never rejoined. He was +certified as having died in the hospital at Ladysmith!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked steadily into her agitated face.</p> + +<p>"Supposing," he said, "that he turned out to be the man whom you have in +your mind, what is he to you?"</p> + +<p>"My brother," she answered simply.</p> + +<p>Wrayson's first impulse was of surprise. Then he drew a long breath of +relief. He looked back upon his long hours of anxiety, and cursed himself +for a fool.</p> + +<p>"What an idiot I have been!" he declared. "Of course, I know that you +lost a brother in South Africa. But—but what about Madame de Melbain?"</p> + +<p>"Madame de Melbain and my brother were friends," she said quietly. "There +were obstacles or they would have been more than friends."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"Now supposing," he said, "that, by some miracle, your brother +still lived, that this was he, is there any reason why he should +avoid you both?"</p> + +<p>She thought for a moment.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she said slowly, "there is."</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he continued tentatively, "you couldn't tell me all +about it?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't," she answered. "It isn't my secret."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked for a moment away from her, across the valley with its +flower-spangled meadows, parted by that sinuous poplar-fringed line of +silver, the lazy, slow-flowing river stealing through the quiet land to +the sea. The full summer heat was scarcely yet in the air, but already a +faint blue haze was rising from the lowlands. Up on the plateau, where +they were sitting, a slight breeze stirred amongst the trees; Monsieur +Jules had indeed some ground for his pride in this tiny sylvan paradise.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "that for one day we will forget all this tangle of +secrets and unaccountable doings. What do you say, Louise?" he whispered, +taking her unresisting hand into his. "May I tell Monsieur Jules to serve +breakfast for two in the arbour there?"</p> + +<p>She laughed softly into his face. There was the look in her eyes which +he loved to see, half wistful, half content, almost happy.</p> + +<p>"But you are never satisfied," she declared. "If I give you a day, a +whole precious day out of my valuable life—"</p> + +<p>"They belong to me, all of them," he declared, bending over her till his +lips touched her cheek. "Some day I am very sure that I shall take them +all into my charge."</p> + +<p>She disengaged herself from his embrace with a sudden start. Wrayson +turned his head. Within a yard or two of them, Madame de Melbain had +paused in the centre of the little plot of grass. She was looking at them +from underneath her lace parasol, with faintly uplifted eyebrows, and the +dawn of a smile upon her beautiful lips. Louise sprang to her feet, and +Wrayson followed her example. Madame de Melbain lowered her parasol as +though to shut out the sight of the two.</p> + +<p>"May I come on?" she asked. "I want to speak to Louise, although I am +afraid I am shockingly <i>de trop.</i>"</p> + +<p>Wrayson had an idea, and acted upon it promptly.</p> + +<p>"Madame de Melbain," he said, "I believe that you have some influence +with Louise, I am sure that you are one of those who sympathize with the +unfortunate. Can't I bespeak your good offices?"</p> + +<p>She lowered her parasol to the ground, and leaned a little forward upon +it. Her eyes were fixed steadily upon Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"Go on," she said briefly.</p> + +<p>"I love Louise," Wrayson said, "and I believe she cares for me. +Nevertheless, she refuses to marry me, and will give no intelligible +reason. My first meeting with her was of an extraordinary nature. I +assisted her to leave a house in which a murder had been committed, +since which time I think we have both run a risk of trouble with the +authorities. Louise lives always in the shadow of some mystery, and when +I, who surely have the right to know her secrets, beg for her confidence, +she refuses it."</p> + +<p>"And what is it that you wish me to do?" Madame de Melbain asked softly.</p> + +<p>"To use your influence with Louise," Wrayson pleaded. "Let her give me +her confidence, and let her accept from me the shelter of my name."</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain was silent for several moments. She seemed to be +thinking. Louise's face was expressionless. She had made one attempt to +check Wrayson, but recognizing its futility she had at once abandoned it. +From below in the valley came the faint whir of the reaping machines, +from the rose garden a murmur of bees. But between the two women and the +man there was silence—silence which lasted so long that Monsieur Jules, +who was watching from a window, called softly upon all the saints of his +acquaintance to explain to him of what nature was this mystery, which +seemed to be developing, as it were, under his own surveillance.</p> + +<p>At last Madame de Melbain appeared to come to a decision. She moved +slowly forward, until she stood within a few feet of him. Then she raised +her eyes to his and looked him long and earnestly in the face.</p> + +<p>"You look," she said, half under her breath, "like a man who might be +trusted. I will trust you. I will be kinder to you than Louise, for I +will tell you all that you want to know. But when I have told you, you +will have in your keeping the honour of an unfortunate woman whose name +alone is great."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked her for a moment in the eyes. Then he bowed low.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "that trust will be to me my most sacred possession."</p> + +<p>She smiled at him faintly, nodding her head as though to keep pace with +her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I believe you, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Yes, I believe you! Let me tell +you this, then. I count it amongst my misfortunes that my own troubles +have become in so large a manner the troubles of my friends. You will +appreciate that the more, perhaps, when I tell you that Madame de Melbain +is not the name by which I am generally known. I am that unfortunate +woman the Queen of Mexonia!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX<br /><br /> +THE QUEEN OF MEXONIA</h3> + +<p>Wrayson, who had been prepared for something surprising, was yet startled +out of his composure. The affairs of the unhappy Royal House of Mexonia +were the property of the world. He half rose to his feet, but Madame de +Melbain instantly waved him back again.</p> + +<p>"My friends," she said, "deem it advisable that my whereabouts should not +be known. I certainly am very anxious that my incognita should be +preserved."</p> + +<p>She paused, and Wrayson, without hesitation, answered her unspoken +question. Unconsciously, too, he found himself using the same manner of +address as the others.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "whatever you choose to tell me will be sacred."</p> + +<p>She bowed her head slightly.</p> + +<p>"I am going to tell you a good deal," she said, glancing across at +Louise.</p> + +<p>Louise opened her lips as though about to intervene. Madame de Melbain +continued, however, without a break.</p> + +<p>"I am going to tell you more than may seem necessary," she said, "because +I believe that I am one of those unfortunate persons whose evil lot it is +to bring unhappiness upon their friends. So far as I can avoid this, Mr. +Wrayson, I mean to. Further—it is possible that I may ask +you—presently—to render me a service."</p> + +<p>Wrayson bowed low. He felt that she was already well aware of his +willingness.</p> + +<p>"First, then, let me tell you," she continued, leaning back in her chair, +and looking away across the valley with eyes whose light was wholly +reminiscent, "that we three were schoolgirls together, Louise, Amy—whom +you know better, perhaps, as the Baroness de Sturm—and myself. We were +at a convent near Brussels. There were not many pupils, and we three were +friends....</p> + +<p>"We had a great deal of liberty—more liberty, perhaps, than our friends +would have approved of. We worked, it is true, in the mornings, but in +the afternoons we rode or played tennis in the Bois. It was there that I +met Prince Frederick, who afterwards became my husband.</p> + +<p>"I was only sixteen years old, and just as silly, I suppose, as a girl +brought up as I had been brought up was certain to be. I was very much +flattered by Prince Frederick's attentions, and quite ready to respond +to them. My own family was noble, and the match was not considered a +particularly unequal one, for though Frederick was of the Royal House, +he was a long way from the succession. Still, there was a good deal of +trouble when a messenger from Frederick went to my father. He declared +that I was altogether too young; my mother, on the other hand, was +just as anxious to conclude the match. Eventually it was arranged that +the betrothal should take place in six months—and Frederick went back +to Mexonia."</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain paused for a moment. Wrayson felt, from her slightly +altered attitude and a significant lowering of her voice, that she was +reaching the part of her narrative which she found the most difficult.</p> + +<p>"We girls," she continued, "went back to school, and just at that time +Louise's brother came over to Brussels. I think that I have already told +you that the supervision over us was far from strict. There was nothing +to prevent Captain Fitzmaurice being a good deal with us. We had +picnics, tennis parties, rides! Long before the six months were up I +understood how foolish I had been. I wrote to Prince Frederick and +begged him to release me from our uncompleted engagement. His answer was +to appear in person. He made a scene. My mother and father were now +wholly on his side. Within a few weeks he had lost both a cousin and a +brother. His succession to the throne was almost a certainty. His own +people were just as anxious to have him married. I did not know why +then, but I found out later on. They had their way. I believe that +things are different in an English home. In mine, I can assure you that +I never had any chance. I entered upon my married life without the least +possibility of happiness. Needless to say, I never realized any! For the +last four years my husband has been trying for a divorce! Very soon it +is possible that he will succeed."</p> + +<p>Wrayson leaned a little towards her.</p> + +<p>"Is it permitted, Madame, to ask a question?"</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"You have fought against this divorce, you and your friends, so +zealously. Yet your life has been unhappy. Release could scarcely have +been anything but a relief to you!"</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain raised her head slightly. Her brows were a little +contracted. From her eyes there flashed the silent fire of a +queen's disdain.</p> + +<p>"Release! Yes, I would welcome that! If it were death it would be very +welcome! But divorce—he to divorce me, he, whose brutality and +infidelities are the scandal of every Court in Europe! No! A divorce I +never shall accept. Separation I have insisted upon."</p> + +<p>Wrayson hesitated for a moment.</p> + +<p>"May I be pardoned," he said, "if I repeat to you what I saw in print +lately—in a famous English paper? They spoke of this divorce case which +has lasted so long; they spoke of it as about to be finally decided. +There was some fresh evidence about to be produced, a special court was +to be held."</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain turned, if possible, a shade paler.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she said slowly, "I have heard of that. We have all heard of that. +I want to tell you, Mr. Wrayson, what that fresh evidence consists of."</p> + +<p>Wrayson bowed and waited. Somehow he felt that he was on the eve of a +great discovery.</p> + +<p>"Both before my marriage and afterwards," Madame de Melbain said quietly, +"I wrote to—Captain Fitzmaurice. I was always impulsive—when I was +younger, and my letters, especially one written on the eve of my +marriage, would no doubt decide the case against me. Captain Fitzmaurice +was killed—in Natal, but in a mysterious way news has reached me of the +letters since his death."</p> + +<p>"In what way?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>For the first time, Madame de Melbain glanced a little nervously about +her. Against listeners, however, they seemed absolutely secure. There was +no hiding-place, nor any one within sight. Upon the land was everywhere +the silence of a great heat. Even in the shade where they sat the still +air was hot and breathless. Down in the valley the cows stood knee deep +in the stream, and a blue haze hung over the vineyards.</p> + +<p>"Nearly eighteen months ago," Madame de Melbain continued, "I received a +letter signed by the name of Morris Barnes. The writer said that he had +just arrived from South Africa, and had picked up on one of the +battlefields there a bundle of letters, which he had come to the +conclusion must have been written by me. He did not mince matters in the +least. He was a blackmailer pure and simple. He had given me the first +chance of buying these letters! What was my offer?"</p> + +<p>A sharp ejaculation broke from Wrayson's lips. Louise signed to him to +be silent.</p> + +<p>"Amy was with me when the letters came," Madame de Melbain continued. +"She left at once for England to see this man. The sum he demanded was +impossible. All that she could do was to ask for time, and to arrange to +pay him so much a month whilst we were considering how to raise the +money. He accepted this, and promised to keep silence. He kept his word, +but for a time only. He made inquiries, and he seems to have come to the +conclusion that the money was on the other side. At any rate, he +approached the advisers of my husband. He was in treaty with them for the +letters—when he—when he met with his death!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson had a feeling that the heat was becoming intolerable. He dared +not look at Louise. His eyes were fixed upon the still expressionless +face of the woman whose story was slowly unfolding its tragic course.</p> + +<p>"A rumour of this," Madame de Melbain continued, "reached us in Mexonia! +I telegraphed to Amy! She and Louise were at their wits' ends. Louise +decided to go and see this man Barnes, to make her way, if she could, +into his flat, to search for and, if she could find them, to steal these +letters. She carried out her purpose or rather her attempted purpose. The +rest you know, for it was you who saved her!"</p> + +<p>"The man," Wrayson said hoarsely, "was murdered."</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain inclined her head.</p> + +<p>"So I have understood," she remarked.</p> + +<p>"He was murdered," Wrayson continued in a harsh, unnatural voice, "on +that very night, the night when he was to have made over these letters to +your—enemies! The message was telephoned to me! He was to go to the +Hotel Francis. He was warned that there was danger. And there was! He was +murdered—while the cab waited—to take him there!"</p> + +<p>Her eyes held his—she did not flinch.</p> + +<p>"The man who telephoned to me—Bentham his name was, the agent of your +enemies,—he, too, was murdered!"</p> + +<p>"So I have heard," she said calmly.</p> + +<p>"The letters!" he faltered. "Where are they?"</p> + +<p>"No one knows," she answered. "That is why I live always on the brink of +a volcano. Many people are searching for them. No one as yet has +succeeded. But that may come at any moment."</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "can you tell me who killed these men?"</p> + +<p>She raised her eyebrows.</p> + +<p>"I cannot," she answered coldly.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he declared, "the man Barnes was a pitiful blackmailing little +Jew! For all I know, he deserved death a dozen times over—ay, and +Bentham too! But the law does not look upon it like that. Whoever killed +these men will assuredly be hanged if they are caught. Don't you think +that your friends are a little too zealous?"</p> + +<p>She met his gaze unflinchingly.</p> + +<p>"If friends of mine have done these things," she said, "they are at least +unknown to me!"</p> + +<p>He drew a short choking breath of relief. Yet even now the mystery was +deeper than ever! He began to think out loud.</p> + +<p>"A friend of yours it must have been," he declared. "Barnes was murdered +when in a few hours he would have parted with those letters to your +enemies; Bentham was murdered when he was on the point of discovering +them! There is some one working for you, guarding you, who desires to +remain unknown. I wonder!"</p> + +<p>He stopped short. A sudden illumining idea flashed through his mind. He +looked at Madame de Melbain fixedly.</p> + +<p>"This man Duncan who has disappeared so suddenly," he said thickly. "Whom +did you say—who was it that he reminded you of?"</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain lost at last her composure. She was white to the lips, +her eyes seemed suddenly lit with a horrible dread. She pushed out her +hands as though to thrust it from her.</p> + +<p>"He was killed!" she cried. "It was not he! He is dead! Don't dare to +speak of anything so horrible!"</p> + +<p>Then, before they could realize that he was actually amongst them, he was +there. They heard only a crashing of boughs, the parting of the hedge. He +was there on his knees, with his arms around the terrified woman who had +sobbed out his name. Louise, too, swayed upon her feet, her fascinated +eyes fixed upon the newcomer. Wrayson understood, then, that in some way +this man had indeed come back from the dead.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 251px;"> +<a name="he" id="he"></a> +<img src="images/illp212.jpg" width="251" height="400" alt=""HE WAS THERE ON HIS KNEES, WITH HIS ARMS AROUND THE +TERRIFIED WOMAN"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"HE WAS THERE ON HIS KNEES, WITH HIS ARMS AROUND THE +TERRIFIED WOMAN"</span> +</div> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI<br /><br /> +RETURNED FROM THE TOMB</h3> + +<p>The intervention which a few seconds later abruptly terminated an +emotional crisis was in itself a very commonplace one. Monsieur the +proprietor deemed the moment advisable for solving a question which was +beginning to distract his better half in the kitchen. He advanced towards +them, all smiles and bows and gestures.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur would pardon his inquiring—would Monsieur and the ladies be +taking <i>dejeuner?</i> A fowl of excellence unusual was then being +roasted, the salad—Monsieur could see it growing! And Madame had +thought of an omelet! There was no cooler place in all France on a day +of heat so extraordinary as the table under the trees yonder. And as +for strawberries—well, Monsieur could see them grow for himself! or +if it was <i>fraises de Bois</i> that Madame preferred, the children had +brought in baskets full only that morning, fresh and juicy, and of a +wonderful size."</p> + +<p>Wrayson interrupted him at last.</p> + +<p>"Let luncheon be served as you suggest," he directed. "In the meantime—"</p> + +<p>Monsieur Jules understood and withdrew with more bows and smiles. The +significance of his brief appearance upon the lawn was a thing of which +he had not the least idea. Yet after his departure, the strain to a +certain extent had passed away. Only Madame de Melbain's eyes seemed +scarcely to leave the face of the man who stood still by her chair.</p> + +<p>"Alive!" she murmured, grasping his hand in hers. "You alive!"</p> + +<p>Louise had taken his other hand. He was imprisoned between the two.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he said, "I made what they called a wonderful recovery. I suppose +it was almost a miracle."</p> + +<p>"But your death," Louise declared, "was never contradicted."</p> + +<p>"A good deal of news went astray about that time," he remarked grimly. "I +was left, and forgotten. When I found what had been done, I let it go. It +seemed to me to be better. I went up to Rhodesia, and of course I had the +devil's luck. I've come back to Europe simply because I couldn't stand it +any longer. I was not coming to England, and I had no idea of seeing you, +Emilie! I travelled here on a little pilgrimage."</p> + +<p>"It was fate," she murmured.</p> + +<p>"But since I am here," he continued, "and since we have met again, I must +ask you this. Your husband is trying to divorce you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"And why?"</p> + +<p>"Because he is a brute," she answered quietly. "We have been separated +for more than a year. I think that he wants to marry again."</p> + +<p>"And you permit this?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No!" she answered, "I contest it. Up to now, the courts have been in +my favour."</p> + +<p>"Up to now! They must always be in your favour!" he declared vehemently. +"What can they say against a saint like you?"</p> + +<p>She smiled up at him tenderly, a little wistfully.</p> + +<p>"They would say a good deal," she whispered, "if they could see you +here now."</p> + +<p>He drew abruptly away.</p> + +<p>"I am a thoughtless brute," he declared. "It was for that that I decided +to remain dead. I will go away at once."</p> + +<p>Her fingers closed over his. She drew him a little nearer with glad +recklessness.</p> + +<p>"You shall not," she murmured. "It is worth a little risk, this."</p> + +<p>Wrayson touched Louise on the arm and they turned away. He found her a +seat in a quiet corner of the fruit garden, where a tall row of +hollyhocks shielded them from observation. She was very white, and in a +semi-hysterical state.</p> + +<p>"I can't believe," she said, "that that is really Duncan—Duncan himself. +It is too wonderful!"</p> + +<p>"There is no doubt about it being your brother," he answered. "What I +don't quite understand is why he has kept away so long."</p> + +<p>"It is because of her," she answered. "If they had been on the same +continent, I believe that nothing could have kept them apart!"</p> + +<p>"And now?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell," she answered, "I, nor any one else! God made them for +one another, I am very sure!"</p> + +<p>He took her hand and held it tightly in his.</p> + +<p>"And you for me, dearest," he whispered. "Shall I tell you why I am +sure of it?"</p> + +<p>She leaned back with half-closed eyes. Endurance has its limits, and the +mesmeric influence of the drowsy summer day was in her veins.</p> + +<p>"If you like," she murmured, simply....</p> + +<p>And only a few yards away, the man from the dead and the woman who had +loved him seemed to have drifted into a summer day-dream. The strangeness +of this thing held them both—ordinary intercourse seemed impossible. +What they spoke about they scarcely knew! There were days, golden days to +be whispered about and lived again; treasured minutes to be recalled, +looks and words remembered. Of the future, of the actual present, save of +their two selves, they scarcely spoke. It was an hour snatched from +Paradise for her! She would not let it go lightly. She would not suffer +even a cloud to pass across it!</p> + +<p>In time, Monsieur Jules found himself constrained to announce that +<i>dejeuner</i> was served. He found it useless to try to attract the +attention of either Madame de Melbain or Duncan, so he went in search +of Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur is served," he announced, looking blandly upwards at a passing +cloud. "There remains the wine only."</p> + +<p>"Chablis of the best, and ice, and mineral water," Wrayson ordered. +"Come, Louise."</p> + +<p>She sighed a little as she rose and followed him along the narrow path, +where the rose-bushes brushed against her skirt, and the air was fragrant +with lavender. It had been an interlude only, after all, though the man +whose hand she still held would never have admitted it. But—he did not +know! She prayed to Heaven that he never might.</p> + +<p>Luncheon, after all, with a waiter within hearing, and Monsieur Jules +hovering round, banished in a great measure the curious sense of +unreality from which none of them were wholly free. And when coffee came, +Madame leaned a little towards Duncan, and with her hand upon his arm +whispered a question.</p> + +<p>"My letters, Duncan! What became of them?"</p> + +<p>He sighed.</p> + +<p>"I was a little rash, perhaps," he said, "but—they were all I had left. +They were with me at Colenso, in an envelope, sealed and addressed, to be +burnt unopened. When I was hit, I got a Red Cross man to cut them out of +my coat and destroy them."</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain looked at him for a moment, and her eyes were soft +with unshed tears. Then she turned away, though her hand still +rested upon his.</p> + +<p>"Duncan," she said quietly, "don't think that I mind. You did all that +you could, and indeed I would rather that you cared so much. But the +letters were not destroyed."</p> + +<p>For a moment he failed to realize the import of her words.</p> + +<p>"Not destroyed?" he repeated, a little vaguely.</p> + +<p>"No!" she answered. "They came into the hands of some one in London. +Terrible things have happened in connexion with them. Duncan, if you will +listen to me quietly, I will tell you about it. Sit down, dear."</p> + +<p>She saw the gathering storm. The man's face was black with anger. He was +still a little dazed however.</p> + +<p>"You mean—that the man to whom I trusted them—"</p> + +<p>"He kept them for his own purpose," she said softly.</p> + +<p>"Don't look like that, Duncan. He has paid his debt. He is dead!"</p> + +<p>"And the letters?"</p> + +<p>"We do not know. My husband's advisers are trying to get possession of +them. That is why the courts have not yet pronounced their judgment."</p> + +<p>He had risen to his feet, but she drew him gently down again.</p> + +<p>"Remember, Duncan, that the man is dead! Be calm, and I will tell you all +about it."</p> + +<p>He looked at her wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"You are not angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"Angry! Why should I be? I am only happy to know that you never +forgot—that you could not bear to destroy the only link that was left +between us. Do you know, I am almost sorry that I spoke to you about +this! We seem to have snatched an hour or two out of Paradise, and it +is I who have stirred up the dark waters. Let us forget it for a few +more minutes!"</p> + +<p>He drew her away with him towards their seat under the trees. Wrayson +looked across at Louise with a smile.</p> + +<p>"You, too," he said. "May we not forget a little longer?"</p> + +<p>She smiled at him sadly, and shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No!" she answered. "With them it is different. I can scarcely yet +realize that I have a brother: think what it must be to Emilie to have +the man whom she loved come back from the grave. Listen!"</p> + +<p>Outside they heard the sound of galloping horses. A moment later the +Baron de Courcelles issued from the inn and crossed the lawn towards +Madame de Melbain.</p> + +<p>"Madame," he said, "the man who was caught in the park last night is, +without doubt, a spy from Mexonia! He can be charged with nothing more +serious than trespass, and in a few minutes he will be free. Should he +return, this"—he glanced towards Duncan—"would be the end. I have a +carriage waiting for you."</p> + +<p>Madame de Melbain rose at once. With a little gesture of excuse she drew +Duncan on one side.</p> + +<p>"Wait here," she begged, "until you hear from me. Baron de Courcelles is +my one faithful friend at Court. I am going to consult with him."</p> + +<p>"I shall see you again?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She hesitated.</p> + +<p>"Is it wise?" she murmured. "If my enemies knew that you were alive, +that I had seen you here, what chance should I have, do you think, +before the courts?"</p> + +<p>He bent over her hands.</p> + +<p>"I have brought enough trouble upon you," he said simply. "I will wait! +Only I hope that there will be work for me to do!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII<br /><br /> +AT THE HÔTEL SPLENDIDE</h3> + +<p>"I asked you," the Baron remarked, helping himself to <i>hors d'œuvres,</i> +"to dine with me here, because I fancy that the little inn at St. Étarpe +is being closely watched. Always when one has private matters to discuss, +I believe in a certain amount of publicity. Here we are in a quiet +corner, it is true, but we are surrounded by several hundreds of other +people. They are far too occupied with their own affairs to watch us. It +is the last place, for instance, where our friend from Mexonia would +dream of looking for us."</p> + +<p>The three men were seated at a small round table in the great +dining-room of the <i>Hôtel Splendide</i> of Dinant-on-Sea. The season was at +its height, and the room was full. On every side they were surrounded by +chattering groups of English tourists and French holiday makers. Outside +on the promenade a band was playing, and a leisurely crowd was passing +back and forth.</p> + +<p>"The lady whom we will continue, if you please, to call Madame de +Melbain," the Baron continued, "has desired me to take you two gentlemen +into our entire confidence. You are both aware that for eighteen months +the suit for divorce brought by that lady's husband has been before a +special court."</p> + +<p>"One understands," Wrayson remarked, "that the sympathies of all Europe +are with—the lady."</p> + +<p>The Baron bowed.</p> + +<p>"Entirely. Her cause, too, is the popular one in Mexonia. It is the +ministry and the aristocracy who are on the other side. These are anxious +for an alliance which will safeguard Mexonia from certain dangers to +which she is at present exposed. Madame de Melbain, as you are both +aware, comes from one of the oldest families of Europe, but it is a +family without any political significance. The betrothal was completed +before Frederick stood so near to the throne. If his accession had seemed +even a likely thing at the time, it would not have been sanctioned. I +speak as the staunch friend of the lady whose cause is so dear to us, but +I wish you to grasp the facts."</p> + +<p>There was a brief pause whilst a fresh course was served by an apologetic +and breathless waiter. The three men spoke together for a while on some +chance subject. Then, when they were alone, the Baron continued.</p> + +<p>"The court, although powerful influences were at work, found itself +unable to pronounce the decree which those in authority so much desired. +All that those who were behind the scenes could do was to keep the case +open, hoping that while living apart from her husband some trifling +indiscretion on the part of Madame would afford them a pretext for giving +the desired verdict. I need not say that, up to the present, no such +indiscretion has occurred. But all the time we have been on the brink of +a volcano!"</p> + +<p>"The letters!" Duncan muttered.</p> + +<p>The Baron nodded.</p> + +<p>"About a year ago," he said, "Madame de Melbain received a terrifying +letter from the miscreant into whose hands they had fallen. Madame very +wisely made a confidant of me, and, with the Baroness de Sturm, I left +at once for London, and saw this man. I very soon persuaded myself that +he had the letters and that he knew their value. He asked a sum for them +which it was utterly unable for us to pay."</p> + +<p>"Did he explain," Duncan asked, "how they came into his hands?"</p> + +<p>"He said that they were picked up on the battlefield of Colenso at +first," the Baron declared. "Afterwards he was brutally frank. You see +your death was gazetted, a fact of which he was no doubt aware. He +admitted that they had been given to him to destroy."</p> + +<p>Duncan leaned across the table.</p> + +<p>"Baron," he said, "who killed that man? He cheated me of my task, but I +should like to know who it was."</p> + +<p>"So would a great many more of us," the Baron answered. "The fact is, we +are in the curious position of having an unknown friend."</p> + +<p>"An unknown friend?" Duncan repeated.</p> + +<p>The Baron nodded.</p> + +<p>"We paid that man two thousand a year," he said, "but he was not +satisfied. He communicated secretly with the other side, and they agreed +to buy the letters for ten thousand pounds. We knew the very night when +he had arranged to hand them over to a man named Bentham in London. But +we were powerless. We could not have found the half of ten thousand +pounds. One thing only was tried, and that very nearly ended in disaster. +An attempt was made to steal the letters. Mr. Wrayson will tell you about +that—presently."</p> + +<p>A <i>maître d'hôtel</i> paused at their table to hope that messieurs were well +served. In a season so busy it was not possible to give the attention to +every one they would like! Was there anything he could do? Messieurs were +drinking, he noticed, the best wine in the cellars! He trusted that they +approved of it. The young lady there with the diamond collar and the +wonderful eyes? He bent a little lower over the table. That was +Mademoiselle Diane, of the Folies Bergères! And the gentleman? He had +registered under another name, but he was well known as the Baron X——, +a great capitalist in Paris!</p> + +<p>The <i>maître d'hôtel</i> passed on, well satisfied that he had interested the +three distinguished looking gentlemen who dined alone. Wrayson, as soon +as he was out of hearing, leaned over the table.</p> + +<p>"It is on that night," he said to Duncan, "that I come into touch with +the affairs of which our friend has spoken. The man Barnes had a flat +corresponding to mine on the floor above. I returned home about midnight +and found a young lady, who was a complete stranger to me, engaged in +searching my desk. I turned up the lights and demanded an explanation. +She was apparently quite as much surprised to see me as I was to see her. +It appeared that she had imagined herself in Barnes' flat. Whilst I was +talking to her, the telephone bell rang. Some unknown person asked me to +convey a message to Barnes. When I had finished she was gone. I sat down +and tried to make head or tail of the affair. I couldn't. Barnes was a +disreputable little bounder! This girl was a lady. What connexion could +there be between the two? I fancied what might happen if she were +surprised by Barnes, and I determined not to go to bed until I heard her +come down. I fell asleep over my fire, and I woke with a start to find +her once more upon the threshold of my room. She was fainting—almost on +the point of collapse! I gave her some brandy and helped her downstairs. +At the door of the flat was a cab, and in it was the man Barnes, +dead—murdered!"</p> + +<p>The breath came through Duncan's teeth with a little hiss. One could +fancy that he was wishing that his had been the hand to strike the blow. +The Baron glanced round casually. He called a waiter and complained of +the slow service, sent for another bottle of wine, and lit a cigarette.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "that we will pause for a moment or so. Mr. +Wrayson's narrative is a little dramatic! Ah! Mademoiselle la danseuse +goes! What a toilet!"</p> + +<p>Mademoiselle favoured their table with her particular regard as she +passed out, and accepted with a delightful smile the fan which she +dropped in passing, and which the Baron as speedily restored. He resumed +his seat, stroking his grey moustache.</p> + +<p>"A very handsome young lady," he remarked. "I think that now we may +continue."</p> + +<p>"The girl?" Duncan asked quickly.</p> + +<p>"Was your sister," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>There was a moment's intense silence. Duncan was doing his best to look +unconcerned, but the hand which played with his wineglass shook.</p> + +<p>"How—was he murdered?"</p> + +<p>"Strangled with a fine cord," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>"In the cab?"</p> + +<p>"There or inside the building! It is impossible to say."</p> + +<p>"And no one was ever tried for the murder?" +</p> + +<p> +"No one," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>Duncan swallowed a glassful of wine.</p> + +<p>"But my sister," he said, "was in his rooms—she might have seen him!"</p> + +<p>"Your sister's name was never mentioned in the matter," Wrayson said. "I +was the only witness who knew anything about her—and—I said nothing."</p> + +<p>Duncan drew a little breath.</p> + +<p>"Why?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"An impulse," Wrayson answered. "I felt that she could not have been +concerned in such a deed, and I felt that if I told all that I knew, she +would have been suspected. So I said nothing. I saved her a good deal of +trouble and anxiety I dare say, and I do not believe that I interfered in +any way with the course of justice."</p> + +<p>Duncan looked across the table and raised his glass.</p> + +<p>"I should like to shake hands with you, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "only the +Baron would have fits. You acted like a brick. I only hope that Louise is +as grateful as she ought to be."</p> + +<p>"My silence," Wrayson said, "was really an impulse. There have been times +since when I have wondered whether I was wise. There are people now at +work in London trying to solve the mystery of this murder. I acted upon +the supposition that no one had seen your sister leave the flat except +myself. I found afterwards that I was mistaken!"</p> + +<p>The Baron leaned forward.</p> + +<p>"One moment, Mr. Wrayson," he interrupted. "You have said that there are +people in London who are trying to solve the mystery of Barnes' death. +Who are they?"</p> + +<p>"One is the man's brother," Wrayson answered, "if possible, a more +contemptible little cur than the man himself was. His only interest is +to discover the source of his brother's income. He wants money! Nothing +but money. The other is a much more dangerous person. His name is +Heneage, and he is an acquaintance of my own, a barrister, and a man of +education."</p> + +<p>"Why does he interest himself in such an affair?" Duncan asked.</p> + +<p>"Because the solution of such matters is a hobby of his," Wrayson +answered. "It was he who saw your sister and I come out from the flat +that morning. It was he who warned us both to leave England."</p> + +<p>The Baron leaned forward in his chair.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "but there is a—lady at your right +who seems anxious to attract your attention. We are none of us anxious to +advertise our presence here. Is she, by any chance, a friend of yours?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked quickly round. He understood at once the Baron's slight +pause. The ladies of the French half-world are skilled enough, when +necessary, in concealing their profession: their English sister, if she +attempts it at all, attempts a hopeless task. Over-powdered, over-rouged, +with hair at least two shades nearer copper coloured than last time he +had seen her, badly but showily dressed, it was his friend from the +Alhambra whose welcoming smile Wrayson received with a thrill of +interest. She was seated at a small table with a slightly less repulsive +edition of herself, and her smile changed at once into a gesture of +invitation. Wrayson rose to his feet almost eagerly.</p> + +<p>"This is a coincidence," he said under his breath. "She, too, holds a +hand in the game!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII<br /><br /> +A HAND IN THE GAME</h3> + +<p>The diners at the <i>Hotel Splendide</i> were a little surprised to see the +tall, distinguished-looking Englishman leave his seat and accost with +quiet deference the elder of the two women, whose entrance a few minutes +before had occasioned a good many not very flattering comments. The lady +who called herself Blanche meant to make the most of her opportunity.</p> + +<p>"Fancy meeting you here," she remarked. "Flo, this is a friend of +mine. Mrs. Harrigod! Gentleman's name doesn't matter, does it?" she +added, laughing.</p> + +<p>Wrayson bowed, and murmured something inaudible. Blanche's friend +regarded him with unconcealed and flattering approval.</p> + +<p>"Over here for a little flutter, I suppose?" she remarked. "It is so hot +in town we had to get away somewhere. Are you alone with your friends?"</p> + +<p>"Quite alone," Wrayson answered. "We are only staying for a day or two."</p> + +<p>The lady nodded.</p> + +<p>"We shall stay for a week if we like it," she said. "If not, we shall go +on to Dieppe. Did you get my letter?"</p> + +<p>"Letter!" Wrayson repeated. "No! Have you written to me?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"I wrote to you a week ago."</p> + +<p>"I have been staying near here," Wrayson said, "and my letters have not +been forwarded."</p> + +<p>He bent a little lower over the table. The perfume of violet scent was +almost unbearable, but he did not flinch.</p> + +<p>"You had some news for me?" he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" she answered. "I'm not going to tell you now. We are going to +sit outside after dinner. You must come to us there. No good having +smart friends unless you make use of them," she added, with a shrill +little laugh.</p> + +<p>"I shall take some chairs and order coffee," Wrayson said. "In the +meantime—?"</p> + +<p>"If you like to order us a bottle of champagne and tell the waiter to put +it on your bill, we shan't be offended," Blanche declared. "We were just +wondering whether we could run to it."</p> + +<p>"You must do me the honour of being my guests for dinner also," +Wrayson declared, calling a waiter. "It was very good of you to +remember to write."</p> + +<p>The friend murmured something about it being very kind of the gentleman. +Blanche shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I remember right enough," she said. "It wasn't that. But there, wait +until I've told you about it. It's an odd story, and sometimes I wish I'd +never had anything to do with it. I get a cold shiver every time I think +of that old man who took me to dine at Luigi's. Outside in three-quarters +of an hour, then!"</p> + +<p>"I will keep some chairs and order coffee," Wrayson said, turning away.</p> + +<p>"And bring one of your friends," Blanche added. "It won't do him any +harm. We shan't bite him!"</p> + +<p>"I will bring them both," Wrayson promised.</p> + +<p>He went back to his own table and people watched him curiously.</p> + +<p>"I believe," he said quietly, as he sat down, "that if there is a person +in the world who can put us on the track of those letters, it is the lady +with whom I have just been talking."</p> + +<p>The Baron looked across at the two women with new interest.</p> + +<p>"What on earth have they got to do with it, Wrayson?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The fair one was a friend of Barnes'," Wrayson answered. "It was at her +flat that he called the night he was murdered."</p> + +<p>"You are sure," Duncan asked, "that the letters have not been found yet +by the other side?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure," the Baron answered. "We have agents in Mexonia, even +about the King's person, and we should hear in an hour if they had +the letters."</p> + +<p>"Presuming, then," Duncan said thoughtfully, "that Barnes was murdered +for the sake of these letters—and as he was murdered on the very night +he was going to hand them over to the other side, I don't see what else +we can suppose,—the crime would appear to have been committed by some +one on our side."</p> + +<p>"It certainly does seem so," the Baron admitted.</p> + +<p>"And this man Bentham! He was the agent for—the King's people. He too +was murdered! Baron!"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Who killed Barnes? He robbed me of my right, but I want to know."</p> + +<p>The Baron shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I have no idea," he said gravely. "We have agents in London, of course, +but no one who would go to such lengths. I do not know who killed +Barnes, nor do I know who killed Bentham."</p> + +<p>There was a short silence. The Baron's words were impressively spoken. +It was impossible to doubt their veracity. Yet both to Wrayson and to +Duncan they had a serious import. The same thought was present in the +mind of all three of them—and each avoided the others' eyes. Wrayson, +however, was not disposed to let the matter go without one more +effort. The corners of his mouth tightened, and he looked the Baron +steadily in the face.</p> + +<p>"Baron," he said, "I have told you that there is a man in London who has +set himself to solve the mystery of Barnes' death. The two people whom he +would naturally suspect are Miss Fitzmaurice and myself. There is strong +presumptive evidence against us, owing to my silence at the inquest, and +at any moment we might either of us have to face this charge. Knowing +this, do I understand you to say that, if the necessity arose, you would +be absolutely unable to throw any light upon the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Absolutely!" the Baron declared. "Both those murders are as complete an +enigma to me as to you."</p> + +<p>"You have agents in London?"</p> + +<p>"Agents, yes!" the Baron declared, "but they are in the nature of +detectives only. They would not dream of going to such lengths, either +with instructions or without them. Neither, I am sure, would any one who +was employed to collect evidence upon the other side."</p> + +<p>There was no more to be said. Wrayson rose to his feet a little abruptly.</p> + +<p>"The air is stifling here," he said. "Let us go outside and take +our coffee."</p> + +<p>They found seats on the veranda, looking out upon the promenade. The +Baron looked a little dubiously at the stream of people passing backwards +and forwards.</p> + +<p>"Are we not a little conspicuous?" he remarked.</p> + +<p>"Does it really matter?" Wrayson asked. "It is only for this evening. I +shall leave for London tomorrow, in any event. Besides, it is part of the +bargain that we take coffee with these ladies. Here they are."</p> + +<p>Wrayson introduced his friends with perfect gravity. Chairs were found, +and coffee and liqueurs ordered. Wrayson contrived to sit on the outside, +and next to his copper-haired friend.</p> + +<p>"Now for our little talk," he said. "Will you have a cigarette? You'll +find these all right."</p> + +<p>She threw a sidelong glance at him and sighed. What an exceedingly +earnest young man this was!</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "I know you'll give me no peace till I've told you. +There may be nothing in it. That's for you to find out. I think myself +there is. It was last Thursday night in the promenade at the Alhambra +that I saw her!"</p> + +<p>"Saw whom?" Wrayson interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I'm coming to that," she declared. "Let me tell you my own way. I was +talking to a friend, and I overheard all that she said. She was quietly +dressed, and she looked frightened; a poor, pale-faced little thing she +was anyway, and she was walking up and down like a stage-doll, peering +round corners and looking everywhere, as though she'd lost somebody. +Presently she went up to one of the attendants, and I heard her ask him +if he knew a Mr. Augustus Howard who came there often. The man shook his +head, and then she tried to describe him. It was a bit flattering, but +an idea jumped into my head all of a sudden that it was Barnes she was +looking for."</p> + +<p>"By Jove!" Wrayson muttered, under his breath. "Did you speak to her?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"I waited till she was alone, and then I made her sit down with me and +describe him all over again. By the time she'd finished, I was jolly well +sure that it was Barnes she was after."</p> + +<p>"Did you tell her?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"Not I!" she answered. "I didn't want a scene there, and besides, it's +your little show, not mine. I told her that I felt sure I recognized him, +and that if she would be in the same place at nine o'clock a week from +that night, I could send some one whom I thought would be able to tell +her about her friend. That was last Thursday. You want to be just outside +the refreshment-room at nine o'clock to-morrow night, and you can't +mistake her. She looks as though she'd blown in from an A B C shop."</p> + +<p>Wrayson possessed himself of her hand for a moment in an impulse of +apparent gallantry. Something which rustled pleasantly was instantly and +safely transferred to the metal purse which hung from her waistband.</p> + +<p>"You will allow me?" he murmured.</p> + +<p>"Rather," she answered, with a little laugh. "What a stroke of luck it +was meeting you here! Flo and I were both stony. We hadn't a sovereign +between us when we'd paid for our tickets."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen anything of Barnes' brother?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Once or twice at the Alhambra," she answered.</p> + +<p>"He was wearing his brother's clothes, but he looked pretty dicky."</p> + +<p>"You didn't mention this young woman to him, I suppose?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Not I! You're the only person I've told. Hope it brings you luck."</p> + +<p>Wrayson rose to his feet. The Baron and Duncan followed his example. They +took leave of the ladies and turned towards the promenade.</p> + +<p>"I'm going to London by the morning boat," Wrayson announced. "I believe +I'm on the track of those letters."</p> + +<p>They walked up and down for a few moments talking. As they passed the +front of the hotel, they heard a shrill peal of laughter. Blanche and her +friend were talking to a little group of men. The Baron smiled.</p> + +<p>"We have broken the ice for them," he said, "but I am afraid that we are +already forgotten."</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV<br /><br /> +AN ILL-ASSORTED COUPLE</h3> + +<p>Wrayson looked anxiously at his watch. It was already ten minutes past +nine, and although he was standing on the precise spot indicated, there +was no one about who in the least resembled the young woman of whom he +was in search. The overture to the ballet was being played, a good many +people were strolling about, or seated at the small round tables, but +they were all of the usual class, the ladies ornate and obvious, and all +having the air of <i>habitués</i>. In vain Wrayson scanned the faces of the +passers-by, and even the occupants of the back seats. There was no sign +of the young woman of whom he was in search.</p> + +<p>Presently he began to stroll somewhat aimlessly about, still taking note +of every one amongst the throng, and in a little while he caught sight of +a familiar figure, sitting alone at one of the small round tables. He +accosted him at once.</p> + +<p>"How are you, Heneage?" he said quietly. "What are you doing in town at +this time of the year?"</p> + +<p>Heneage started when he was addressed, and his manner, when he recognized +Wrayson, lacked altogether its usual composure.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," he answered. "Beastly hot in town, though, isn't it? I'm +off in a day or two. Where have you been to?"</p> + +<p>"North of France," Wrayson answered. "You look as though you wanted +a change!"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to Scotland directly I can get away."</p> + +<p>The two men looked at one another for a moment. Heneage was certainly +looking ill. There were dark lines under his eyes, and his face seemed +thinner. Then, too, he was still in his morning clothes, his tie was ill +arranged, and his linen not unexceptionable. Wrayson was puzzled. +Something had gone wrong with the man.</p> + +<p>"You see," he said quietly, "I have been forced to disregard your +warning. I shall be in England for some little time at any rate. May I +ask, am I in any particular danger?"</p> + +<p>Heneage shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Not from me, at any rate!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked at him for a moment steadily.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that, Heneage?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"You are satisfied, then, that neither I nor the young lady had +anything to do with the death of Morris Barnes?" Heneage moved in his +chair uneasily.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he answered. "Don't talk to me about that damned business," he +added, with a little burst of half-suppressed passion. "I've done with +it. Come and have a drink."</p> + +<p>Wrayson drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps, for the first time, he realized +how great a weight this thing had been upon his spirits. He had feared +Heneage!—not this man, but the cold, capable Stephen Heneage of his +earlier acquaintance; feared him not only for his own sake, but hers. +After all, his visit to the Alhambra had brought some good to him.</p> + +<p>Heneage had risen to his feet.</p> + +<p>"We'll go into the American bar," he said. "Not here. The women fuss +round one so. I'm glad you've turned up, Wrayson. I've got the hump!"</p> + +<p>The bar was crowded, but they found a quiet corner. Heneage ordered a +large brandy and soda, and drunk half of it at a gulp.</p> + +<p>"How's every one?" Wrayson asked. "I haven't been in the club yet."</p> + +<p>"All right, I believe. I haven't been in myself for a week," +Heneage answered.</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked at him in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Haven't been in the club for a week?" he repeated. "That's rather +unusual, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Damn it all! I'm not obliged to go there, am I?" Heneage +exclaimed testily.</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked at him in amazement. Heneage, as a rule, was one of the +most deliberate and even-tempered of men.</p> + +<p>"Of course not," he answered. "You won't mind telling me how the Colonel +is, though, will you?"</p> + +<p>"I believe he is very well," Heneage answered, more calmly. "He doesn't +come up to town so often this hot weather. Forgive me for being a bit +impatient, old fellow. I've got a fit of nerves, I think."</p> + +<p>"You want a change," Wrayson said earnestly. "There's no doubt +about that."</p> + +<p>"I am going away very soon," Heneage answered. "As soon as I can get off. +I don't mind telling you, Wrayson, that I've had a shock, and it has +upset me."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"All right, old chap," he said. "I'm beastly sorry, but if you take my +advice, you'll get out of London as soon as you can. Go to Trouville or +Dinard, or some place where there's plenty of life. I shouldn't busy +myself in the country, if I were you. By the bye," he added, "there is +one more question I should like to ask you, if you don't mind."</p> + +<p>Heneage called a waiter and ordered more drinks. Then he turned to +Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "go on!"</p> + +<p>"About that little brute, Barnes' brother. Is he about still?"</p> + +<p>Heneage's face darkened. He clenched his fist, but recovered himself with +a visible effort.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he answered shortly, "he is about. He is everywhere. The little +brute haunts me! He dogs my footsteps, Wrayson. Sometimes I wonder that I +don't sweep him off the face of the earth."</p> + +<p>"But why?" Wrayson asked. "What does he want with you?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell you," Heneage answered. "When he first turned up, I was +interested in his story, as you know. We commenced working at the thing +together. You understand, Wrayson?"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly!"</p> + +<p>"Well—after a while it suited me—to drop it. Perhaps I told him so a +little abruptly. At any rate, he was disappointed. Now he has got an idea +in his brain. He believes that I have discovered something which I will +not tell him. He follows me about. He pesters me to death. He is a slave +to that one idea—a hideous, almost unnatural craving to get his hands +on the source of his brother's money. I think that he will very soon be +mad. To tell you the truth, I came in here to-night because I thought I +should be safe from him. I don't believe he has five shillings to get in +the place."</p> + +<p>Wrayson lit a cigarette and smoked for a moment in silence. Then he +turned towards his companion.</p> + +<p>"Heneage," he said, "I don't want to annoy you, but you must remember +that this matter means a good deal to me. I am forced to ask you a +question, and you must answer it. Have you really found anything out? You +don't often give a thing up without a reason."</p> + +<p>Heneage answered him with greater composure than he had expected, though +perhaps to less satisfactory effect.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Wrayson," he said, "you appreciate plain speaking, +don't you?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded. Heneage continued:</p> + +<p>"You can go to hell with your questions! You understand that? It's +plain English."</p> + +<p>"Admirably simple," Wrayson answered, "and perfectly satisfactory."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"It answers my question," Wrayson declared quietly.</p> + +<p>Heneage shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"You can get what satisfaction you like out of it," he said doggedly.</p> + +<p>"It isn't much," Wrayson admitted. "I wish I could induce you to treat me +a little more generously."</p> + +<p>Heneage looked at him with a curious gleam in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said. "Take my advice. Drop the whole affair. You see +what it's made of me. It'll do the same to you. I shan't tell you +anything! You can swear to that. I've done with it, Wrayson, done with +it! You understand that? Talk about something else, or leave me alone!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked at the man whom he had once called his friend.</p> + +<p>"You're in a queer sort of mood, Heneage," he said.</p> + +<p>"Let it go at that," Heneage answered. "Every man has a right to his +moods, hasn't he? No right to inflict them upon his friends, you'd say! +Perhaps not, but you know I'm a reasonable person as a rule. +Don't—don't—"</p> + +<p>He broke off abruptly in his sentence. His eyes were fixed upon a distant +corner of the room. Their expression was unfathomable, but Wrayson +shuddered as he looked away and followed their direction. Then he, too, +started. He recognized the miserable little figure whose presence a group +just broken up left revealed. Heneage rose softly to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Let us go before he sees us," he whispered hurriedly. "Look sharp!"</p> + +<p>But they were too late. Already he was on his way towards them, shambling +rather than walking down the room, an unwholesome, unattractive, even +repulsive figure. He seemed to have shrunken in size since his arrival in +England, and his brother's clothes, always too large, hung about him +loose and ungraceful. His tie was grimy; his shirt frayed; his trousers +turned up, but still falling over his heels; his hat, too large for him, +came almost to his ears. In the increased pallor and thinness of his +face, his dark eyes seemed to have come nearer together. He would have +been a ludicrous object but for the intense earnestness of his +expression. He came towards them with rapidly blinking eyes. He took no +notice of Heneage, but he insisted upon shaking hands with Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "I am glad to see you again, sir. You always +treated me like a gentleman. Not like him," he added, motioning with his +head towards Heneage. "He's a thief, he is!"</p> + +<p>"Steady," Wrayson interrupted, "you mustn't call people names like that."</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Barnes asked. "He is a thief. He knows it. He knows who robbed +me of my money. And he won't tell. That's what I call being a thief."</p> + +<p>Wrayson glanced towards Heneage and was amazed at his demeanour. He had +shrunk back in his chair, and he was sitting with his hands in his +pockets and his eyes fixed upon the table. Of the two, his miserable +little accuser was the dominant figure.</p> + +<p>"He's very likely spending it now—my money!" Barnes continued. "Here +am I living on crusts and four-penny dinners, and begging my way in +here, and some one else is spending my money. Never mind! It may be my +turn yet! It may be only a matter of hours," he added, leaning over +towards them and showing his yellow teeth, "and I may have the laugh on +both of you."</p> + +<p>Heneage looked up quickly. He was obviously discomposed.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Sydney Barnes indulged in the graceless but expressive proceeding of +sticking his tongue in his cheek. After which he turned to Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "lend me a quid. I've got the flat to sleep in +for a few more weeks, but I haven't got money enough for a meal. I'll pay +you back some day—perhaps before you expect it."</p> + +<p>Wrayson produced a sovereign and handed it over silently.</p> + +<p>"If I were you," he said, "I'd spend my time looking for a situation, +instead of hunting about for this supposed fortune of your brother's."</p> + +<p>Barnes took the sovereign with hot, trembling fingers, and deposited it +carefully in his waistcoat pocket. Then he smiled in a somewhat +mysterious manner.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "perhaps I'm not so far off, after all. Other +people can find out what he knows," he added, pointing at Heneage. "He +ain't the only one who can see through a brick wall. Say, Mr. Wrayson, +you've always treated me fair and square," he added, leaning towards him +and dropping his voice. "Can you tell me this? Did Morry ever go +swaggering about calling himself by any other name—bit more tony, eh?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson started. For a moment he did not reply. Thoughts were rushing +through his brain. Was he forestalled in his search for this girl? +Meanwhile, Barnes watched him with a cunning gleam in his deep-set eyes.</p> + +<p>"Such as Augustus Howard, eh? Real tony name that for Morry!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson, with a sudden instinctive knowledge, brushed him on one side, +and half standing up, gazed across the room at the corner from which his +questioner had come. With her back against the wall, her cheap prettiness +marred by her red eyes, her ill-arranged hair, and ugly hat, sat, beyond +a doubt, the girl for whom he had waited in the promenade.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV<br /><br /> +HIS WIFE</h3> + +<p>Wrayson drew a little breath and looked back at Sydney Barnes.</p> + +<p>"You asked me a question," he said. "I believe I have heard of your +brother calling himself by some such name."</p> + +<p>Barnes grasped him by the arm.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "come and repeat that to the young lady over there. +She's with me. It won't do you any harm."</p> + +<p>Wrayson rose to his feet, but before he could move he felt Heneage's hand +fall upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, Wrayson?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Barnes looked up at him anxiously. His pale face seemed twisted +into a scowl.</p> + +<p>"Don't you interfere!" he exclaimed. "You've done me enough harm, you +have. You let Mr. Wrayson pass. He's coming with me."</p> + +<p>Heneage took no more notice of him than he would of a yapping terrier. He +looked over his head into Wrayson's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Wrayson," he said, "don't have anything more to do with this business. +Take my advice. I know more than you do about it. If you go on, I swear +to you that there is nothing but misery at the end."</p> + +<p>"I know more than you think I do," Wrayson answered quietly. "I know more +indeed than you have any idea of. If the end were in hell I should not +hold back."</p> + +<p>Heneage hesitated for a moment. He stood there with darkening face, an +obstinate, almost a threatening figure. Passers-by looked with a gleam of +interest at the oddly assorted trio, whose conversation was obviously far +removed from the ordinary chatter of the loungers about the place. One or +two made an excuse to linger by—it seemed possible that there might be +developments. Heneage, however, disappointed them. He turned suddenly +upon his heel and left the room. Those who had the curiosity to follow +along the corridor saw him, without glancing to the right or to the left, +descend the stairs and walk out of the building. He had the air of a man +who abandons finally a hopeless task.</p> + +<p>The look of relief in Barnes' face as he saw him go was a ludicrous +thing. He drew Wrayson at once towards the corner.</p> + +<p>"Queer thing about this girl," he whispered in his ear. "She ain't like +the others about here. She just comes to make inquiries about a friend +who's given her the chuck, and whose name she says was Howard. I believe +it's Morry she means. Just like him to take a toff's name!"</p> + +<p>"Wait a moment before we speak to her," Wrayson said. "How did you +find her out?"</p> + +<p>"She spoke to me," Barnes answered. "Asked me if my name was Howard, said +I was a bit like the man she was looking for. Then I palled up to her, +and I'm pretty certain Morry was her man. I want her to go to the flat +with me and see his clothes and picture, but she's scared. Mr. Wrayson, +you might do me a good turn. She'll come if you'd go too!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know why I am here to-night?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"No! Why?"</p> + +<p>"To meet that young woman of yours," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>Barnes looked at him in amazement.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. "You don't know her, do you?"</p> + +<p>His sallow cheeks were paler than ever. His narrow eyes, furtively raised +to Wrayson's, were full of inquisitive fear.</p> + +<p>"No! I don't know her," Wrayson answered, "but I rather fancy, all the +same, that she is the young person whom I came here to meet to-night."</p> + +<p>Barnes waited breathlessly for an explanation. He did not say a word, but +his whole attitude was an insistent interrogation point.</p> + +<p>"You remember," Wrayson said, "that when you and I were pursuing these +investigations together, I made some inquiries of the woman at whose flat +your brother called on the night of his murder. I saw her again at Dinant +yesterday, and she told me of this young person. She also evidently +believed that the man for whom she was inquiring was your brother."</p> + +<p>Barnes nodded.</p> + +<p>"She told me that she was to have met a gentleman to-night," he said. +"Here, we must go and speak to her now, or she'll think that +something's up."</p> + +<p>He performed something that was meant for an introduction.</p> + +<p>"Friend of mine, Miss," he said, indicating Wrayson. "Knew my brother +well, lived in the flat just below him, in fact. Perhaps you'd like to +ask him a few questions."</p> + +<p>"There is only one question I want answered," the girl replied, with +straining eyes fixed upon Wrayson's face, and a little break in her tone. +"Shall I see him again? If Augustus was really—his brother—where is he? +What has happened to him?"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence. Sydney Barnes had evidently said nothing as +to his brother's tragic end. Wrayson could see, too, that the girl was on +the brink of hysterics, and needed careful handling.</p> + +<p>"We will tell you everything," he said presently. "But first of all +we have to decide whether your Augustus Howard and Morris Barnes were +the same person. I think that the best way for you to decide this +would be to come home to my flat. Mr. Barnes' is just above, and I +dare say you can recognize some of his brother's belongings, if he +really was—your friend."</p> + +<p>She rose at once. She was perfectly willing to go. They left the place +together and entered a four-wheeler. During the drive she scarcely opened +her lips. She sat in a corner looking absently out of the window, and +nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. She answered a remark of +Sydney Barnes' without turning her head.</p> + +<p>"I always watch the people," she said. "Wherever I am, I always look +out of the window. I have always hoped—that I might see Augustus again +that way."</p> + +<p>Wrayson, from his seat in the opposite corner of the cab, watched her +with growing sympathy. In her very conformity to type, she represented so +naturally a real and living unit of humanity. Her poor commonplace +prettiness was already on the wane, stamped out by the fear and trouble +of the last few months. Yet inane though her features, lacking altogether +strength or distinction, there was stamped into them something of that +dumb, dog-like fidelity to some object which redeemed them from utter +insignificance. Wrayson, as he watched her, found himself thinking more +kindly of the dead man himself. In his vulgar, selfish way, he had +probably been kind to her: he must have done something to have kindled +this flame of dogged, persevering affection. Already he scarcely doubted +that Morris Barnes and Augustus Howard had been the same person. Within a +very few minutes of her entering the flats there remained no doubt at +all. With a low moan, like a dumb animal mortally hurt, she sank down +upon the nearest chair, clasping the photograph which Sydney Barnes had +passed her in her hands.</p> + +<p>For a few moments there was silence. Then she looked up—at Wrayson. Her +lips moved but no words came. She began again. This time he was able to +catch the indistinct whisper.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson took a seat by her side upon the sofa.</p> + +<p>"You do not read the newspapers?" he asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Not much. My eyes are not very good, and it tires me to read."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," he said gently, "that it will be bad news."</p> + +<p>A little sob caught in her throat.</p> + +<p>"Go on," she faltered.</p> + +<p>"He is dead," Wrayson said simply.</p> + +<p>She fainted quietly away.</p> + +<p>Wrayson hurried downstairs to his own flat for some brandy. When he +returned the girl was still unconscious. Her pocket was turned inside out +and the front of her dress was disordered. Sydney Barnes was bending +close over her. Wrayson pushed him roughly away.</p> + +<p>"You can wait, at least, until she is well," he said contemptuously.</p> + +<p>Sydney Barnes was wholly unabashed. He watched Wrayson pour brandy +between the girl's lips, bathe her temples, and chafe her hands. All the +time he stood doggedly waiting close by. No considerations of decency or +humanity would weigh with him for one single second. The fever of his +great desire still ran like fire through his veins. He did not think of +the girl as a human creature at all. Simply there was a pair of lips +there which might point out to him the way to his Paradise.</p> + +<p>She opened her eyes at last. Sydney Barnes came a step nearer, but +Wrayson pushed him once more roughly away.</p> + +<p>"You are feeling better?" he asked kindly.</p> + +<p>She nodded, and struggled up into a sitting posture.</p> + +<p>"Tell me," she said, "how did he die? It must have been quite sudden. Was +it an accident?—or—or—"</p> + +<p>He saw the terror in her eyes, and he spoke quickly. All the time he +found himself wondering how it was that she was guessing at the truth.</p> + +<p>"We are afraid," he said "that he was murdered. It is surprising that you +did not read about it in the papers."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I do not read much," she said, "and the name was different. Who was +it—that killed him?"</p> + +<p>"No one knows," he answered.</p> + +<p>"When was it?" she asked.</p> + +<p>He told her the date. She repeated it tearfully.</p> + +<p>"He was down with me the day before," she said. "He was terribly excited +all the time, and I know that he was a little afraid of something +happening to him. He had been threatened!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know by whom?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"He never told me," she answered. "He didn't tell me much. But he was +very, very good to me. I was at the refreshment-room at London Bridge +when I first met him. He used to come in and see me every day. Then he +began to take me out, and at last he found me a little house down at +Putney, and I was so happy. I had been so tired all my life," she added, +with a little sigh, "and down there I did nothing but rest and rest and +wait for him to come. It was too good to last, of course, but I didn't +think it would end like this!"</p> + +<p>Quietly but very persistently Sydney Barnes insisted on being heard.</p> + +<p>"It's my turn now," he said, standing by Wrayson's side. "Look here, +Miss, I'm his brother. You can see that, can't you?"</p> + +<p>"You are something like him," she admitted, "only he was much, much nicer +to look at than you."</p> + +<p>"Never mind that," he continued eagerly. "I'm his brother, his nearest +relative. Everything he left behind belongs to me!"</p> + +<p>"Not—quite everything," she protested.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"You may be his brother," she answered, "but I," holding out her left +hand a little nervously, "I was his wife!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI<br /><br /> +THE MURDERED MAN'S EFFECTS</h3> + +<p>Both men had been totally unprepared for the girl's timid avowal. To +Wrayson, however, after the first mild shock of surprise, it was of no +special import. To Sydney Barnes, although he made a speedy effort to +grapple with the situation, it came very much as a thunderclap.</p> + +<p>"You have your certificate?" he asked sharply. "You were married properly +in a church?"</p> + +<p>She nodded. "We were married at Dulwich Parish Church," she answered. "It +was nearly a year ago."</p> + +<p>"Very well," Sydney Barnes said. "It is lucky that I am here to look +after your interests. We divide everything, you know."</p> + +<p>She seemed about to cry.</p> + +<p>"I want Augustus," she murmured. "He was very good to me."</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "Augustus always seemed to have plenty of oof, +didn't he?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"He was very generous with it, too," she declared. "He gave me lots and +lots of beautiful things."</p> + +<p>His eyes travelled over her hands and neck, destitute of ornaments.</p> + +<p>"Where are they?" he asked sharply.</p> + +<p>"I've had to sell them," she answered, "to get along at all, I hated to, +but I couldn't starve."</p> + +<p>The young man's face darkened.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said. "We'd better have no secrets from one another. You know +how to get at his money, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I don't know anything about it," she declared.</p> + +<p>"You must know where it came from," he persisted.</p> + +<p>"I don't," she repeated. "Indeed I don't. He never told me and I never +asked him. I understood that he had made it in South Africa."</p> + +<p>Sydney Barnes wiped the perspiration from his forehead.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said in a voice which, notwithstanding his efforts to +control it, trembled a little, "this is a very serious matter for us. You +don't want to go back to the refreshment bar again, do you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care what I do," she answered dully. "I hated that, but I shall +hate everything now that he is gone."</p> + +<p>"It's only for a day or two you'll feel like that," he declared. "We've +got a right, you and I, to whatever Morry left behind, and whatever +happens I mean to have my share. Look around you!"</p> + +<p>It was not an inspiring spectacle. The room was dirty, and almost devoid +of furniture.</p> + +<p>"All that I've had out of it so far," he declared, "is free quarters +here. The rent's paid up to the end of the year. I've had to sell the +furniture bit by bit to keep alive. It was a cheap lot, cheap and showy, +and it fetched jolly little. Morry always did like to have things that +looked worth more than he gave for them. Even his jewellery was +sham—every bally bit of it. There wasn't a real pearl or a real diamond +amongst the lot. But there's no doubt about the money. I've had the +bank-book. He was worth a cool two thousand a year was Morry—that's +five hundred each quarter day, you understand, and somewhere or other +there must be the bonds or securities from which this money came. He +never kept them here. I'll swear to that. Therefore they must be +somewhere that you ought to know about."</p> + +<p>She nodded wearily.</p> + +<p>"Very likely," she said. "I have a parcel he gave me to take care of."</p> + +<p>The effect of her simple words on Barnes was almost magical. The dull +colour streamed into his sallow cheeks, he shook all over with +excitement. His voice, when he spoke, was almost hysterical. He had been +so near to despair. This indeed had been almost his last hope.</p> + +<p>"A parcel!" he gasped. "A parcel! What sort of a parcel? Did he say that +it was important?"</p> + +<p>"It's just a long envelope tied up with red tape and sealed," she +answered. "Yes! he made a great fuss about leaving it with me."</p> + +<p>"Tell us all about it," he demanded greedily. "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! +Be quick!"</p> + +<p>"It must have been almost the very day it happened," she said, with a +little shudder. "He came down in the afternoon and he seemed a bit queer, +as though he had something on his mind. He took out the envelope once or +twice and looked at it. Once he said to me, 'Agnes,' he said, 'there are +men in London who, if they knew that I carried this with me, would kill +me for it. I was frightened, and I begged him to leave it somewhere. I +think he said that he had to have it always with him, because he couldn't +think of a safe hiding-place for it. Just as he was going, though, he +came back and took it out of his pocket once more."</p> + +<p>"He left it with you?" Barnes exclaimed. "You have it safe?"</p> + +<p>She nodded.</p> + +<p>"I was going to tell you. 'Look here, Agnes,' he said, 'I'm nervous +to-night. I don't want to carry this about with me. I shall want it +to-morrow and I'll come down for it. To-night's a dangerous night for +me to be carrying it about.' Those were just about his last words. He +gave me the packet and I begged him to be careful. Then he kissed me +and off he went, smoking a cigar, and as cheerful as though he were +going to a wedding."</p> + +<p>She began to cry again, but Barnes broke in upon her grief.</p> + +<p>"Didn't he tell you anything more about it?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"He told me—if anything happened to him," she sobbed, "to open it."</p> + +<p>"We must do so," he declared. "We must do so at once. There must be a +quarter's dividends overdue. We can get the money to-morrow, and +then—oh! my God!" he exclaimed, as though the very anticipation made him +faint. "Where is the packet?"</p> + +<p>"At the bottom of my tin trunk in my rooms," she answered. "I had to +leave the house. I couldn't pay the rent any longer."</p> + +<p>"Where are the rooms?" he demanded. "We'll go there now."</p> + +<p>"In Labrador Street," she answered. "It's a poor part, but I've only a +few shillings in the world."</p> + +<p>"We'll have a cab," he declared, rising. "Mr. Wrayson will lend us the +money, perhaps?"</p> + +<p>"I will come with you," Wrayson said quietly.</p> + +<p>"We needn't bother you to do that," Sydney Barnes declared, with a +suspicious glance.</p> + +<p>The young woman looked towards him appealingly. He nodded reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "that it will be better for me to come. I am +concerned in this business after all, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how," Barnes declared sullenly. "<i>If</i> this young lady is my +sister-in-law, surely she and I can settle up our own affairs."</p> + +<p>Wrayson stood with his back to the door, facing them.</p> + +<p>"I hope," he said, "that you will not, either of you, be disappointed in +what you find in that packet. But I think it is only right to warn you. I +have reason to believe that you will not find any securities or bonds +there at all! I believe that you will find that packet to consist of +merely a bundle of old letters and a photograph!"</p> + +<p>Barnes spat upon the floor. He was shaking with fright and anger.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," he declared. "What can you know about it?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "the matter is easily settled. We will put this +young lady in a cab and she shall bring the packet to my flat below. You +and she shall open it, and if you find securities there I have no more to +say, except to wish you both luck. If, on the other hand, you find the +letters, it will be a different matter."</p> + +<p>The girl had risen to her feet.</p> + +<p>"I would rather go alone," she said. "If you will pay my cab, I will +bring the packet straight back."</p> + +<p>Wrayson and Barnes waited in the former's flat. Barnes drank two brandy +and sodas, and walked restlessly up and down the room. Wrayson was busy +at the telephone, and carried on a conversation for some moments in +French. Directly he had finished, Barnes turned upon him.</p> + +<p>"Whom were you talking to?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"A friend of yours," he answered. "I have asked her to come round for a +few minutes."</p> + +<p>"A friend of mine?"</p> + +<p>"The Baroness!"</p> + +<p>The colour burned once more in his cheeks. He looked down at his attire +with dissatisfaction.</p> + +<p>"I didn't want to see her again just yet," he muttered. Wrayson smiled.</p> + +<p>"She won't look at your clothes," he remarked, "and I rather want +her here."</p> + +<p>Barnes was suddenly suspicious.</p> + +<p>"What for?" he demanded. "What has she got to do with the affair? I won't +have strangers present."</p> + +<p>"My young friend," Wrayson said, "I may just as well warn you that I +think you are going to be disappointed. I am almost certain that I know +the contents of that packet. You will find that it consists, as I told +you before, not of securities at all, but simply a few old letters."</p> + +<p>Barnes' eyes narrowed.</p> + +<p>"Whatever they are," he said, "they meant a couple of thousand a year to +Morry, and they were worth his life to somebody! How do you account for +that, eh?"</p> + +<p>"You want the truth?" Wrayson asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"Your brother was a blackmailer!"</p> + +<p>The breath came through Barnes' teeth with a little hiss. He realized +his position almost at once. He was trapped.</p> + +<p>He walked up to Wrayson's side. His voice shook, but he was in +deadly earnest.</p> + +<p>"Look here," he said, "the contents of that packet, whatever they may be, +are mine—mine and hers! You have nothing to do with the matter at all. I +will not have you in the room when they are opened."</p> + +<p>Wrayson shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"The packet will be opened here," he said, "and I shall certainly +be present."</p> + +<p>Barnes ground his teeth.</p> + +<p>"If you touch one of those papers or letters or whatever they may be, you +shall be prosecuted for theft," he declared. "I swear it!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson smiled.</p> + +<p>"I will run the risk," he declared. "Ah! Baroness, this is kind of you," +he added, throwing open the door and ushering her in. "There is a young +friend of yours here who is dying to renew his acquaintance with you."</p> + +<p>She smiled delightfully at Sydney Barnes, and threw back her cloak. +She had just come in from the opera, and diamonds were flashing +from her neck and bosom. Her gown was exquisite, the touch of her +fingers an enchantment. It was impossible for him to resist the +spell of her presence.</p> + +<p>"You have been very unkind," she declared. "You have not been to see me +for a very long time. I do not think that I shall forgive you. What do +you say, Mr. Wrayson? Do you think that he deserves it?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson smiled as he threw open the door once more. He felt that the next +few minutes might prove interesting.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII<br /><br /> +THE WIDOW'S ULTIMATUM</h3> + +<p>Sydney Barnes stepped quickly forward. If Wrayson had permitted it, he +would have snatched the packet from the girl's fingers. Wrayson, however, +saw his intent and intervened. He stepped forward and led her to his +writing table.</p> + +<p>"I want you to sit down here quietly and open the envelope," he said, +switching on the electric lamp. "That is what he told you to do, isn't +it? There may be a message for you inside."</p> + +<p>She looked round a little fearfully. The presence of the Baroness +evidently discomposed her.</p> + +<p>"I thought," she said, "that we were going to be alone, that there would +have been no one here but him and you."</p> + +<p>"The lady is a friend of mine," Wrayson said, "and it is very likely that +she may be interested in the contents of this envelope."</p> + +<p>She untied the string with trembling fingers. Wrayson handed her a +paper-knife and she cut open the top of the envelope. Then she looked up +at him appealingly.</p> + +<p>"I—I don't want to look inside," she half sobbed.</p> + +<p>Wrayson took up the envelope and shook out its contents before her. There +was a letter addressed simply to Agnes, and a small packet wrapped in +brown oilcloth and secured with dark-green ribbon. Sydney Barnes' hand +stole out, but Wrayson was too quick for him. He changed his position, +so as to interpose his person between the packet and any one in the room.</p> + +<p>"Read the letter," he told the girl. "It is addressed to you."</p> + +<p>She handed it to him. Her eyes were blinded with tears.</p> + +<p>"Read it for me, please," she said.</p> + +<p>He tore open the envelope and read the few lines scrawled upon a half +sheet of notepaper. He read them very softly into her ear, but the words +were audible enough to all of them.</p> + +<p>"MY DEAR AGNES,—I have just discovered that there are some people on my +track who mean mischief. I have a secret they want to rob me of. I seem +to be followed about everywhere I go. What they want is the little packet +in this envelope. I'm leaving it with you because I daren't carry it +about with me. I've had two narrow escapes already.</p> + +<p>"Now you'll never read this letter unless anything happens to me. I've +made up my mind to sell this packet for what I can get for it, and take +you with me out of the country. It'll be a matter of ten thousand quid, +and I only wish I had my fingers on it now and was well out of the +country. But this is where the rub comes in. If anything happens to me +before I can bring this off, I'm hanged if I know what to tell you to do +with the packet. It's worth its weight in banknotes to more persons than +one, but there's a beastly risk in having anything to do with it. I think +you'd better burn it! There's money in it, but I don't see how you could +handle it. Burn it, Agnes. It's too risky a business for you! I only +hope that in a week or so I shall burn this letter myself, and you and I +will be on our way to America.</p> + +<p>"So long, Nessie,</p> + +<p>"from your loving husband.</p> + +<p>"P.S.—By the bye, my real name is Morris Barnes!"</p> + +<p>There was an instant's pause as Wrayson finished reading. Then there came +a long-drawn-out whisper from Sydney Barnes. He was close to the girl, +and his eyes were riveted upon the little packet.</p> + +<p>"Ten—thousand—pounds! Ah! Five thousand each! Give me the packet, +sister-in-law!"</p> + +<p>She stretched out her hand as though to obey. Wrayson checked her.</p> + +<p>"Remember," he said, "what your husband told you. You were to burn that +packet. He was right. Your husband was a blackmailer, Mrs. Barnes, and he +paid the penalty of his infamous career with his life. I shall not allow +either you or your brother-in-law to follow in his footsteps!"</p> + +<p>She flashed an indignant glance upon him.</p> + +<p>"Who are you calling names?" she demanded. "He was my husband and he was +good to me!"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon and his," Wrayson said. "I was wrong to use such a +word. But I want you to understand that to attempt to make money by the +contents of that packet is a crime! Your husband paid the penalty. He +knew what he was doing when he commanded you to burn it."</p> + +<p>She looked towards Sydney Barnes.</p> + +<p>"What do you say?" she asked.</p> + +<p>The words leaped from his mouth. He was half beside himself.</p> + +<p>"I say let us open the packet and look it through ourselves before we +decide. What the devil business is it of anybody else's. He was my +brother and your husband. These people weren't even his friends. They've +no right to poke their noses into our affairs. You tell them so; +sister-in-law. Give me the packet. Come away with me somewhere where we +can look it through quietly. I'm fair and straight. It shall be halves, I +swear. I say, sister-in-law Agnes, you don't want to go back to the +refreshment bar, do you?"</p> + +<p>"No!" she moaned. "No! no!"</p> + +<p>"Nor do I want to go back to the gutter," he declared fiercely. +"But money isn't to be had for the picking up. Ten thousand pounds +Morris expected to get for that packet. It's hard if we can't make +half of that."</p> + +<p>She looked up at Wrayson as though for advice.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Barnes," he said gravely, "I can tell you what is in that packet. +You can see for yourself, then, whether it is anything by means of which +you can make money. It consists of the letters of a very famous woman to +the man whom she loved. They were stolen from him on the battlefield. I +do not wish to pain you, but the thief was Morris Barnes. The friends of +the lady who wrote them paid your brother two thousand pounds a year. Her +enemies offered him—ten thousand pounds down. There is the secret of +Morris Barnes' wealth."</p> + +<p>Sydney Barnes leaned over the back of her chair. His hot whisper seemed +to burn her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Keep the packet, sister-in-law. Don't part!"</p> + +<p>"Your brother-in-law," Wrayson remarked, "is evidently disposed to +continue your husband's operations. Remember you are not at liberty to +do as he asks. Your husband's words are plain. He orders you to burn +the packet."</p> + +<p>"How do I know that you are telling me the truth?" she asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Undo the packet," he suggested. "A glance inside should show you."</p> + +<p>For some reason or other she seemed dissatisfied. She pointed towards +the Baroness.</p> + +<p>"What is she doing here?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"She is a friend of the woman who wrote those letters," Wrayson answered. +"I want her to see them destroyed."</p> + +<p>There was silence for several moments. The girl's fingers closed upon the +packet. She turned round and faced them all. She faced them all, but she +addressed more particularly Wrayson.</p> + +<p>"You are wondering why I hesitate," she said slowly. "Augustus said +destroy the packet, and I suppose I ought to do it."</p> + +<p>"By God, you shan't!" Sydney Barnes broke in fiercely. "Morry didn't know +that I should be here to look after things."</p> + +<p>She waited until he had finished, but she seemed to take very little, if +any, notice of his intervention.</p> + +<p>"It isn't," she continued, "that I'm afraid to go back to the bar. I'll +have to go to work some where, I suppose, but it isn't that. I want to +know," she leaned a little forward,—"I want to know who it is that has +robbed me of my husband. I don't care what he was to other people! He was +very good to me, and I loved him. I should like to see the person who +killed him hanged!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson, for a moment, was discomposed.</p> + +<p>"But that," he said, "has nothing to do with obeying your husband's +directions about that packet."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with tired eyes and changeless expression.</p> + +<p>"Hasn't it?" she asked. "I am not so sure. You have explained about these +letters. It is quite certain that my husband was killed by either the +friends or the enemies of the woman who wrote these letters. I think that +if I take this packet to the police it will help them to find the +murderer!"</p> + +<p>Her new attitude was a perplexing one. Wrayson glanced at the Baroness +as though for counsel. She stepped forward and laid her hand upon the +girl's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"There is one thing which you must not forget, Mrs. Barnes," she said +quietly. "Your husband knew that he was running a great risk in keeping +these letters and making a living out of them. His letter to you shows +that he was perfectly aware of it. Of course, it is a very terrible, a +very inexcusable thing that he should have been killed. But he knew +perfectly well that he was in danger. Can't you sympathize a little with +the poor woman whose life he made so miserable? Let her have her letters +back. You will not find her ungrateful!"</p> + +<p>The girl turned slowly round and faced the Baroness. They might indeed +have represented the opposite poles in femininity. From the tips of her +perfectly manicured fingers to the crown of her admirably coiffured hair, +the Baroness stood for all that was elegant and refined in the innermost +circles of her sex. Agnes would have looked more in place behind the +refreshment bar from which Morris Barnes had brought her. Her dress of +cheap shiny silk was ill fitting and hopeless, her hat with its faded +flowers and crushed shape an atrocity, boots and gloves, and brooch of +artificial gems—all were shocking. Little was left of her pale-faced +prettiness. The tragedy which had stolen into her life had changed all +that. Yet she faced the Baroness without flinching. She seemed sustained +by the suppressed emotion of the moment.</p> + +<p>"He was my man," she said fiercely, "and no one had any right to take him +away from me. He was my husband, and he was brutally murdered. You tell +me that I must give up the letters for the sake of the woman who wrote +them! What do I care about her! Is she as unhappy as I am, I wonder? I +will not give up the letters," she added, clasping them in her hand, +"except—on one condition."</p> + +<p>"If it is a reasonable one," the Baroness said, smiling, "there will be +no difficulty."</p> + +<p>Agnes faced her a little defiantly.</p> + +<p>"It depends upon what you call reasonable," she said. "Find out for me +who it was that killed my husband, you or any one of you, and you shall +have the letters."</p> + +<p>Sydney Barnes smiled, and left off nervously tugging at his moustache. If +this was not exactly according to his own ideas, it was, at any rate, a +step in the right direction. Wrayson was evidently perplexed. The +Baroness adopted a persuasive attitude.</p> + +<p>"My dear girl," she said, "we don't any of us know who killed your +husband. After all, what does it matter? It is terribly sad, of course, +but he can't be brought back to life again. You have yourself to think +of, and how you are to live in the future. Give me that packet, I will +destroy it before your eyes, and I promise you that you shall have no +more anxiety about your future."</p> + +<p>The girl rose to her feet. The packet was already transferred to the +bosom of her dress.</p> + +<p>"I have told you my terms," she said. "Some of you know all about +it, I dare say! Tell me the truth and you shall have the packet, any +one of you."</p> + +<p>Wrayson leaned forward.</p> + +<p>"The truth is simple," he said earnestly. "We do not know. I can answer +for myself. I think that I can answer for the others."</p> + +<p>"Then the packet shall help me to find out," she declared.</p> + +<p>The Baroness shook her head.</p> + +<p>"It will not do, my dear girl," she said quietly. "The packet is +not yours."</p> + +<p>The girl faced her defiantly.</p> + +<p>"Who says that it is not mine?" she demanded.</p> + +<p>"I do," the Baroness replied.</p> + +<p>"And I!" Wrayson echoed.</p> + +<p>"And I say that it is hers—hers and mine," Sydney Barnes declared. "She +shall do what she likes with it. She shall not be made to give it up."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Barnes," the Baroness declared briskly, "you must try to be +reasonable. We will buy the packet from you."</p> + +<p>Sydney Barnes nodded his head approvingly.</p> + +<p>"That," he said, "is what I call talking common sense."</p> + +<p>"We will give you a thousand pounds for it," the Baroness continued.</p> + +<p>"It's not enough, not near enough," Barnes called out hastily. "Don't you +listen to them, Agnes."</p> + +<p>"I shall not," she answered. "Ten thousand pounds would not buy it. I +have said my last word. I am going now. In three days' time I shall +return. I will give up the letters then in exchange for the name of my +husband's murderer. If I do not get that, I shall go to the police!"</p> + +<p>She rose and walked out of the room. They all followed her. The Baroness +whispered in Wrayson's ear, but he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible," he said firmly. "We cannot take them from her +by force."</p> + +<p>The Baroness shrugged her shoulders. She caught the girl up upon the +stairs and they descended together. Wrayson and Sydney Barnes followed, +the latter biting his nails nervously and maintaining a gloomy silence. +At the entrance, Wrayson whistled for a cab and handed Agnes in. Sydney +Barnes attempted to follow her.</p> + +<p>"I will see my sister-in-law home," he declared; but Wrayson's hand fell +upon his arm.</p> + +<p>"No!" he said. "Mrs. Barnes can take care of herself. She is not to be +interfered with."</p> + +<p>She nodded back at him from the cab.</p> + +<p>"I don't want him," she said. "I don't want any one. In three days' time +I will return."</p> + +<p>"And until then you will not part with the letters?" Wrayson said.</p> + +<p>"Until then," she answered, "I promise."</p> + +<p>The cab drove off. Sydney Barnes turned upon Wrayson, white and venomous.</p> + +<p>"Where do I come in here?" he demanded fiercely.</p> + +<p>"I sincerely trust," Wrayson answered suavely, "that you are not coming +in at all. But you, too, can return in three days."</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII<br /><br /> +INEFFECTUAL WOOING</h3> + +<p>"At last!" Wrayson said to himself, almost under his breath. "Shall we +have a hansom, Louise, or do you care for a walk?"</p> + +<p>"A walk, by all means," she answered hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"It is not far, is it?"</p> + +<p>"A mile—a little more perhaps," he answered.</p> + +<p>"You are sure that you are not tired?"</p> + +<p>"Tired only of sitting still," she answered. "We had a delightful +crossing. This way, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>They left the Grosvenor Hotel, where Louise, with Madame de Melbain, had +arrived about an hour ago, and turned towards Battersea. Louise began to +talk, nervously, and with a very obvious desire to keep the conversation +to indifferent subjects. Wrayson humoured her for some time. They spoke +of the journey, suddenly determined upon by Madame de Melbain on receipt +of his telegram, of the beauty of St. Étarpe, of the wonderful +reappearance of her brother.</p> + +<p>"I can scarcely realize even now," she said, "that he is really alive. He +is so altered. He seems a different person altogether."</p> + +<p>"He has gone through a good deal," Wrayson remarked.</p> + +<p>She sighed.</p> + +<p>"Poor Duncan!" she murmured.</p> + +<p>"He is very much to be pitied," Wrayson said seriously. "I, at any rate, +can feel for him."</p> + +<p>He turned towards her as he spoke, and his words were charged with +meaning. She began quickly to speak of something else, but he +interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"Louise," he said, "is London so far from St. Étarpe?"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I think that you know very well," he answered. "I am sure that you do. +At St. Étarpe you were content to accept what, believe me, is quite +inevitable. Here—well, you have been doing all you can to avoid me, +haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," she admitted. "St. Étarpe was an interlude. I told you so. You +ought to have understood that."</p> + +<p>They entered the Park, and Wrayson was silent for a few minutes. He led +the way towards an empty seat.</p> + +<p>"Let us sit down," he said, "and talk this out."</p> + +<p>She hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I think—" she began, but he interrupted her ruthlessly.</p> + +<p>"If you prefer it, I will come to the Baroness with you," he declared.</p> + +<p>She shrugged her shoulders and sat down.</p> + +<p>"Very well," she said, "but I warn you that I am in a bad temper. I am +hot and tired and dusty. We shall probably quarrel."</p> + +<p>He looked at her critically. She was a little pale, perhaps, but there +was nothing else to indicate that she had just arrived from a journey. +Her dress of dull black glace silk was cool and spotless, her hat and +veil were immaculate. Always she had the air of having just come from the +hands of an experienced maid. From the tips of her patent shoes to the +fall of her veil, she was orderly and correct.</p> + +<p>"It takes two," he said, "to quarrel. I shall not quarrel with you. All +that I ask from you is a realization of the fact that we are engaged to +be married."</p> + +<p>She withdrew the hand which he had calmly possessed himself of.</p> + +<p>"We are nothing of the sort," she declared.</p> + +<p>He looked puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," he remarked, "I forgot to mention the matter last time I saw +you, but I quite thought that you would take it for granted. In case I +was forgetful, please let me impress the fact upon you now. We are going +to be married, and very shortly. In fact, the sooner the better."</p> + +<p>Of her own free will she laid her hand upon his. He fancied that behind +her veil the tears had gathered in her eyes.</p> + +<p>"Dear friend," she said softly, "I cannot marry you! I shall never +marry any one. Will you please believe that? It will make it so much +easier for me."</p> + +<p>He was a little taken aback. She had changed her methods suddenly, and he +had had no time to adapt himself to them.</p> + +<p>"Don't hate me, please," she murmured. "Indeed, it would make me very +happy if we could be friends."</p> + +<p>He laughed a little unnaturally, and turned in his seat until he was +facing her.</p> + +<p>"Would you mind lifting your veil for a moment, Louise?" he asked her.</p> + +<p>She obeyed him with fingers which trembled a little. He saw then that the +tears had indeed been in her eyes. Her lips quivered. She looked at him +sadly, but very wistfully.</p> + +<p>"Thank you!" he said. "Now would you mind asking yourself whether +friendship between us is possible! Remember St. Étarpe, and ask yourself +that! Remember our seat amongst the roses—remember what you will of that +long golden day."</p> + +<p>She covered her face with her hands.</p> + +<p>"Ah, no!" he went on. "You know yourself that only one thing is possible. +I cannot force you into my arms, Louise. If you care to take up my life +and break it in two, you can do it. But think what it means! I am not +rich, but I am rich enough to take you where you will, to live with you +in any country you desire. I don't know what your scruples are—I shall +never ask you again. But, dear, you must not! You must not send me away."</p> + +<p>She was silent. She had dropped her veil and her head had sunk a little.</p> + +<p>"If I believed that there was anybody else," he continued, "I would go +away and leave you alone. If I doubted for a single moment that I could +make you happy, I would not trouble you any more. But you belong to me, +Louise! You have taken up your place in my life, in my heart! I cannot +live without you! I do not think that you can live without me! You +mustn't try, dear! You mustn't!"</p> + +<p>He held her unresisting hand, but her face was hidden from him.</p> + +<p>"What it is that you fancy comes between us I cannot tell," he continued, +more gravely. "Only let me tell you this. We are no longer in any danger +from Stephen Heneage. He has abandoned his quest altogether. He has told +me so with his own lips."</p> + +<p>"You are sure of that?" she asked softly.</p> + +<p>"Absolutely," he answered.</p> + +<p>She hesitated for a moment. He remained purposely silent. He was anxious +to try and comprehend the drift of her thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Do you know why?" she asked. "Did he find the task too difficult, or did +he relinquish it from any other motive?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure," Wrayson answered. "I met him the night before last. He +was very much altered. He had the appearance of a man altogether +unnerved. Perhaps it was my fancy, but I got the idea—"</p> + +<p>"Well?" she demanded eagerly.</p> + +<p>"That he had come across something in the course of his investigations +which had given him a shock," he said. "He seemed all broken up. Of +course, it may have been something else altogether. At any rate, I have +his word for it. He has ceased his investigations altogether, and broken +with Sydney Barnes."</p> + +<p>The afternoon was warm, but she shivered as she rose a little abruptly to +her feet. He laid his hand upon her arm.</p> + +<p>"Not without my answer," he begged.</p> + +<p>She shook her head sadly.</p> + +<p>"My very dear friend," she said sadly, "you must always be. That is all!"</p> + +<p>He took his place by her side.</p> + +<p>"Your very dear friend," he repeated. "Well, it is a relationship I don't +know much about. I haven't had many friendships amongst your sex. Tell me +exactly what my privileges would be."</p> + +<p>"You will learn that," she said, "in time."</p> + +<p>He shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I think not," he declared. "Friendship, to be frank with you, would not +satisfy me in the least."</p> + +<p>"Then I must lose you altogether," she murmured, in a low tone.</p> + +<p>"I don't think so," he affirmed coolly. "I consider that you belong to me +already. You are only postponing the time when I shall claim you."</p> + +<p>She made no remark, and behind her veil her face told him little. A +moment later they issued from the Park and stood on the pavement before +the Baroness' flat. She held out her hand without a word.</p> + +<p>"I think," he said, "that I should like to come in and see the Baroness."</p> + +<p>"Not now," she begged. "We shall meet again at dinner-time."</p> + +<p>"Where?" he asked eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Madame desired me to ask you to join us at the Grosvenor," she answered, +"at half-past eight."</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted," he answered, promptly. "You nearly forgot +to tell me."</p> + +<p>She shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No! I didn't," she said. "I should not have let you go away without +giving you her message."</p> + +<p>"And you will let me bring you home afterwards?"</p> + +<p>"We shall be delighted," she answered. "I shall be with Amy, of course."</p> + +<p>He smiled as he raised his hat and let her pass in.</p> + +<p>"The Baroness," he said, "is always kind."</p> + +<p>He stood for a moment on the pavement. Then he glanced at his watch and +hailed a cab.</p> + +<p>"The Sheridan Club," he told the man. He had decided to appeal to +the Colonel.</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX<br /><br /> +THE COLONEL'S MISSION</h3> + +<p>Wrayson was greeted enthusiastically, as he entered the club +billiard-room, by a little circle of friends, unbroken except for the +absence of Stephen Heneage. The Colonel came across and laid his hand +affectionately on his arm.</p> + +<p>"How goes it, Herbert?" he asked. "The seabreezes haven't tanned +you much."</p> + +<p>"I'm all right," Wrayson declared. "Had a capital time."</p> + +<p>"You'll dine here to-night, Herbert?"</p> + +<p>Wrayson shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I meant to," he declared, "but another engagement's turned up. No! I +don't want to play pool, Mason. Can't stop. Colonel, do me a favour."</p> + +<p>The Colonel, who was always ready to do any one a favour, signified his +willingness promptly enough. But even then Wrayson hesitated.</p> + +<p>"I want to talk to you for a few minutes," he said, "without all these +fellows round. Should you mind coming down into the smoking-room?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel rose promptly from his seat.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit in the world," he declared. "We'll go into the +smoking-room. Scarcely a soul there. Much cooler, too. Bring your +drink. See you boys later."</p> + +<p>They found two easy-chairs in the smoking-room, of which they were the +sole occupants. The Colonel cut off the end of his cigar and made +himself comfortable.</p> + +<p>"Now, my young friend," he said, "proceed."</p> + +<p>Wrayson did not beat about the bush.</p> + +<p>"It's about your daughter Louise, Colonel," he said. "She won't +marry me!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel pinched his cigar reflectively.</p> + +<p>"She always was a most peculiar girl," he affirmed. "Does she give +any reasons?"</p> + +<p>"That's just what she won't do," Wrayson explained. "That's just why I've +come to you. I—I—Colonel, I'm fond of her. I never expected to feel +like it about any woman."</p> + +<p>The Colonel nodded sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"And although it may sound conceited to say so," Wrayson continued, "I +believe—no! I'm sure that she's fond of me. She's admitted it. There!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel smiled understandingly.</p> + +<p>"Well." he said, "then where's the trouble? You don't want my consent. +You know that."</p> + +<p>"Louise won't marry me," Wrayson repeated. "That's the trouble. She won't +explain her attitude. She simply declares that marriage for her is an +impossibility."</p> + +<p>The Colonel sighed.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," he murmured, regretfully, "that my daughter is a fool."</p> + +<p>"She is anything but that," Wrayson declared. "She has some scruple. What +it is I can't imagine. Of course, at first I thought it was because we +were, both of us, involved in that Morris Barnes affair. But I know now +that it isn't that. Heneage, who threatened me, and indirectly her, has +chucked the whole business. Such danger as there was is over. I—"</p> + +<p>"Interrupting you for one moment," the Colonel said quietly, "what has +become of Heneage?"</p> + +<p>"He's in a very queer way," Wrayson answered. "You know he started on hot +to solve this Morris Barnes business. He warned us both to get out of the +country. Well, I saw him last night, and he was a perfect wreck. He +looked like a man just recovering from a bout of dissipation, or +something of the sort."</p> + +<p>"Did you speak to him?" the Colonel asked.</p> + +<p>"I was with him some time," Wrayson answered. "His manner was just as +changed as his appearance."</p> + +<p>The Colonel was looking, for him, quite grave. His cigar had gone out, +and he forgot to relight it.</p> + +<p>"Dear me," he said, "I am sorry to hear this. Did he allude to the Morris +Barnes affair at all?"</p> + +<p>"He did," Wrayson answered. "He gave me to understand, in fact, that he +had discovered a little more than he wanted to."</p> + +<p>The Colonel stretched out his hand for a match, and relit his cigar.</p> + +<p>"You believe, then," he said, "that Heneage has succeeded in solving the +mystery of Barnes' murder, and is keeping the knowledge to himself?"</p> + +<p>"That was the conclusion I came to," Wrayson admitted.</p> + +<p>The Colonel smoked for a moment or two in thoughtful silence.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "it isn't like Heneage. I always looked upon him as a +man without nerves, a man who would carry through any purpose he set +himself to, without going to pieces about it. Shows how difficult it is +to understand the most obvious of us."</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"But after all," he said, "it wasn't to talk about Heneage that I +brought you down here. What I want to know, Colonel, is if you can help +me at all with Louise."</p> + +<p>The Colonel's forehead was furrowed with perplexity.</p> + +<p>"My dear Herbert," he declared, "there is no man in the world I would +sooner have for a son-in-law. But what can I do? Louise wouldn't listen +to me in any case. I haven't any authority or any influence over her. I +say it to my sorrow, but it's the truth. If it were my little girl down +at home, now, it would be a different matter. But Louise has taken her +life into her own hands. She has not spoken to me for years. She +certainly would not listen to my advice."</p> + +<p>"Then if you cannot help me directly, Colonel," Wrayson continued, "can +you help me indirectly? I have asked you a question something like this +before, but I want to repeat it. I have told you that Louise refuses to +marry me. She has something on her mind, some scruple, some fear. Can you +form any idea as to what it may be?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel was silent for an unusually long time. He was leaning back in +his chair, looking up through the cloud of blue tobacco smoke to the +ceiling. In reflection his features seemed to have assumed a graver and +somewhat weary expression.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he said at last, "I think that I can."</p> + +<p>Wrayson felt his heart jump. His eyes were brighter. An influx of new +life seemed to have come to him. He leaned forward eagerly.</p> + +<p>"You will tell me what it is, Colonel?" he begged.</p> + +<p>The Colonel looked at him with a queer little smile.</p> + +<p>"I am not sure that I can do that, Herbert," he said. "I am not sure +that it would help you if I did. And you are asking me rather more than +you know."</p> + +<p>Wrayson felt a little chill of discouragement.</p> + +<p>"Colonel," he said, "I am in your hands. But I love your daughter, and I +swear that I would make her happy."</p> + +<p>The Colonel looked at his watch.</p> + +<p>"Do you know where Louise is?" he asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Number 17, Frederic Mansions, Battersea," Wrayson answered.</p> + +<p>The Colonel rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I will go down and see her," he said simply. "You had better wait here +for me. I will come straight back."</p> + +<p>"Colonel, you're a brick," Wrayson declared, walking with him +towards the door.</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best, Herbert," he answered quietly, "but I can't promise. I +can't promise anything."</p> + +<p>Wrayson watched him leave the club and step into a hansom. He walked a +little more slowly than usual, his head was a little bent, and he passed +a club acquaintance in the hall without his customary greeting. Wrayson +retraced his steps and ascended towards the billiard-room, with his first +enthusiasm a little damped. Was his errand, he wondered, so grievously +distasteful to his old friend, or was the Colonel losing at last the +magnificent elasticity and vigour which had kept him so long independent +of the years?</p> + +<p>There were others besides Wrayson who noticed a certain alteration in the +Colonel when he re-entered the billiard-room an hour or so later. His +usual greeting was unspoken, he sank a little heavily into a chair, and +he called for a drink without waiting for some one to share it with him. +They gathered round him sympathetically.</p> + +<p>"Feeling the heat a bit, Colonel?"</p> + +<p>"Anything wrong downstairs?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel recovered himself promptly. He beamed upon them all +affectionately, and set down an empty tumbler with a little sigh of +satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"I'm all right, boys," he declared. "I couldn't find a cab—had to walk +further than I meant, and I wanted a drink badly. Wrayson, come over +here. I want to talk to you."</p> + +<p>Wrayson sat down by his side.</p> + +<p>"I've done the best I could," the Colonel said. "Things may not come all +right for you quite at once, but within a week I fancy it'll be all +squared up. I've found out why she refused to marry you, and you can take +my word for it that within a week the cause will be removed."</p> + +<p>"You're a brick, Colonel," Wrayson declared heartily. "There's only one +thing more I'd love to have you to tell me."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid—" the Colonel began.</p> + +<p>"That you and Louise were reconciled," Wrayson declared. "Colonel, there +can't be anything between you two, of all the people in the world, there +can't be anything sufficient to keep you and her, father and daughter, +completely apart."</p> + +<p>"You are quite right, Wrayson," the Colonel assented, a little more +cheerfully. "Well, you may find that all will come right very soon now. +By the by, I've been talking to the Baroness. I want you to let me be at +your rooms to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>Wrayson hesitated for a moment.</p> + +<p>"You know how we stand?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Exactly," the Colonel answered. "I only wish that I had known before. +You will have no objection to my coming, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"None at all," Wrayson declared. "But, Colonel! there is one more +question that I must ask you. Did Louise speak to you about her brother?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel nodded.</p> + +<p>"She blamed me, of course," he said slowly, "because I had never told +her. It was his own desire, and I think that he was right. I have +telegraphed for him to come over. He will be here to-night or to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Wrayson left the club, feeling almost light-hearted. It was the old story +over again—the Colonel to the rescue!</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL<br /><br /> +BLACKMAIL</h3> + +<p>Sydney Barnes staggered into his apartment with a little exclamation +of relief which was almost a groan. He slammed the door and sank into +an easy-chair. With both his hands he was grasping it so that his +fingers were hot and wet with perspiration. At last he had obtained +his soul's desire!</p> + +<p>He sat there for several minutes without moving. The blinds were close +drawn and the room was in darkness. Gradually he began to be afraid. He +rose, and with trembling fingers struck a match. On the corner of the +table—fortunately he knew exactly where to find it—was a candle. He lit +it, and holding it over his head, peered fearfully around. Convinced at +last that he was alone, he set it down again, wiped the perspiration from +his forehead, and opening a cupboard in the chiffonnier, produced a +bottle and a glass.</p> + +<p>He poured out some spirits and drank it. Then, after rummaging for +several moments in his coat pocket, he produced several crumpled +cigarettes of a cheap variety. One of these he proceeded to smoke, +whilst, with trembling fingers, he undid the packet which he had been +carrying, and began a painstaking study of its contents. A delicate +perfume stole out into the room from those closely pressed sheets, so +eagerly clutched in his yellow-stained fingers. A little bunch of crushed +violets slipped to the floor unheeded. Ghoul-like he bent over the pages +of delicate writing, the intimate, passionate cry of a soul seeking for +its mate. They were no ordinary love-letters. Mostly they were beyond the +comprehension of the creature who spelt them out word for word, seeking +all the time to appraise their exact monetary value to himself. But for +what he had heard he would have found them disappointing. As it was, he +gloated over them. Two thousand pounds a year his clever brother had +earned by merely possessing them! He looked at them almost reverently. +Then he suddenly remembered what else his brother had earned by their +possession, and he shivered. A moment later the electric bell outside +pealed, and there came a soft knocking at the door.</p> + +<p>A little cry—half stifled—broke from his lips. With numbed and +trembling fingers he began tying up the letters. The perspiration had +broken out upon his forehead. Some one to see him! Who could it be? He +was quite determined not to go to the door. He would let no one in. Again +the bell! Soon they would get tired of ringing and go away. He was quite +safe so long as he remained quiet. Quite safe, he told himself +feverishly. Then his pulses seemed to stop beating. There was a rush of +blood to his head. He clutched at the sides of his chair, but to rise was +a sheer impossibility.</p> + +<p>The thing which was terrifying him was a small thing in itself—the +turning of a latch-key in the door. Before him on the table was his +own—he knew of no other. Yet some one was opening, had opened his front +door! He sprang to his feet at last with something which was almost a +shriek. The door of the room in which he was, was slowly being pushed +open. By the dim candlelight he could distinguish the figure of his +visitor standing upon the threshold and peering into the room.</p> + +<p>His impulse was, without doubt, one of relief. The figure was the figure +of a complete stranger. Nor was there anything the least threatening +about his appearance. He saw a tall, white-haired gentleman, carefully +dressed with military exactitude, regarding him with a benevolent and +apologetic smile.</p> + +<p>"I really must apologize," he said, "for such an unceremonious entrance. +I felt sure that you were in, but I am a trifle deaf, and I could not be +sure whether or not the bell was ringing. So I ventured to use my own +latch-key, with, as you are doubtless observing, complete success."</p> + +<p>"Who are you, and what do you want?" Barnes asked, finding his +voice at last.</p> + +<p>"My name is Colonel Fitzmaurice," was the courteous reply. "You will +allow me to sit down? I have the pleasure of conversing, I believe, with +Mr. Sydney Barnes?"</p> + +<p>"That's my name," Barnes answered. "What do you want with me?"</p> + +<p>Despite his visitor's urbanity, he was still a little nervous. The +Colonel had a somewhat purposeful air, and he had seated himself directly +in front of the door.</p> + +<p>"I want," the Colonel said calmly, "that packet which you have just +stolen from Mrs. Morris Barnes, and which you have in your pocket there!"</p> + +<p>Barnes rose at once, trembling, to his feet. His bead-like eyes were +bright and venomous. He was terrified, but he had the courage of despair.</p> + +<p>"I have stolen nothing," he declared, "I don't know what you're talking +about. I won't listen to you. You have no right to force your way into my +flat. Colonel or no colonel, I won't have it. I'll send for the police."</p> + +<p>The Colonel smiled.</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "don't do that. Besides, I know what I'm talking about. I +mean the packet which I think I can see sticking out of your coat pocket. +You have just stolen that from Mrs. Barnes' tin trunk, you know."</p> + +<p>"I have stolen nothing," the young man declared, "nothing at all. I am +not a thief. I am not afraid of the police."</p> + +<p>The Colonel smiled tolerantly.</p> + +<p>"That is good," he said. "I hate cowards. But I am going to make you very +much afraid of me—unless you are wise and give me that packet."</p> + +<p>Barnes breathed thickly for a moment. Coward he knew that he was to the +marrow of his bones, but other of the evil passions were stirring in him +then. His narrow eyes were alight with greed. He had the animal courage +of vermin hard pressed.</p> + +<p>"The packet is mine," he said fiercely. "It's nothing to do with you. Get +out of my room."</p> + +<p>He rose to his feet. The Colonel awaited him with equable countenance. He +made, however, no advance.</p> + +<p>"Young man," the Colonel said quietly, "do you know what happened to +your brother?"</p> + +<p>Sydney Barnes stood still and shivered. He could say nothing. His tongue +seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth.</p> + +<p>"Your brother was another of your breed," the Colonel continued. "A +blackmailer! A low-living, evil-minded brute. Do you know how he came by +those letters?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know and I don't care," Barnes answered with a weak attempt at +bluster. "They're mine now, and I'm going to stick to them."</p> + +<p>The Colonel shook his head.</p> + +<p>"He broke his trust to a dying man," he said softly,—"to a man who lay +on the veldt at Colenso with three great wounds in his body, and his +life's blood staining the ground. He had carried those letters into +action with him, because they were precious to him. His last thought was +that they should be destroyed. Your brother swore to do this. He broke +his word. He turned blackmailer."</p> + +<p>"You're very fond of that word," Barnes muttered. "How do you know so +much?"</p> + +<p>"The soldier was my son," the Colonel answered, "and he did not die. You +see I have a right to those letters. Will you give them to me?"</p> + +<p>Give them up! Give up all his hopes of affluence, his dreams of an easy +life, of the cheap luxuries and riches which formed the Heaven of his +desire! No! He was not coward enough for that. He did not believe that +this mild-looking old gentleman would use force. Besides, he could not be +very strong. He ought to be able to push him over and escape!</p> + +<p>"No!" he answered bluntly, "I won't!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel looked thoughtful.</p> + +<p>"It is a pity," he said quietly. "I am sorry to hear you say that. Your +brother, when I asked him, made the same reply."</p> + +<p>Barnes felt himself suddenly grow hot and then cold. The perspiration +stood out upon his forehead.</p> + +<p>"I called upon your brother a few days before his death," the Colonel +continued calmly. "I explained my claim to the letters and I asked him +for them. He too refused! Do you remember, by the by, what happened to +your brother?"</p> + +<p>Sydney Barnes did not answer, but his cheeks were like chalk. His mouth +was a little open, disclosing his yellow teeth. He stared at the Colonel +with frightened, fascinated eyes.</p> + +<p>"I can see," the Colonel continued, "that you remember. Young man," he +added, with a curious alteration in his tone, "be wiser than your +brother! Give me the packet."</p> + +<p>"You killed him," the young man gasped. "It was you who killed Morris."</p> + +<p>The Colonel nodded gravely.</p> + +<p>"He had his chance," he said, "even as you have it."</p> + +<p>There was a dead silence. The Colonel was waiting. Sydney Barnes was +breathing hard. He was alone, then, with a murderer. He tried to speak, +but found a difficulty in using his voice. It was a situation which might +have abashed a bolder ruffian.</p> + +<p>The Colonel rose to his feet.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to hurry you," he said, "but we are already late for our +appointment with Wrayson and his friends."</p> + +<p>Sydney Barnes snatched up the packet and retreated behind the table. The +Colonel leaned forward and blew out the candle.</p> + +<p>"I can see better in the dark," he remarked calmly. "You are a very +foolish young man!"</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI<br /><br /> +THE COLONEL SPEAKS</h3> + +<p>Wrayson glanced at the clock for the twentieth time.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," he said gravely, "that Mr. Sydney Barnes has been one too +many for us."</p> + +<p>"Do you think," Louise asked, "that he has persuaded the girl to give him +the packet?"</p> + +<p>"It looks like it," Wrayson confessed.</p> + +<p>Louise frowned.</p> + +<p>"Of course," she said, "I think that you were mad to let her go before. +She had the letters here in the room. You would have been perfectly +justified in taking them from her."</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," Wrayson assented, doubtfully. "Somehow she seemed to get +the upper hand of us towards the end. I think she suspected that some of +us knew more than we cared to tell her about—her husband's death."</p> + +<p>Louise shivered a little and remained silent. Wrayson walked to the +window and back.</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth," he said, "I expected some one else here +to-night who has failed to turn up."</p> + +<p>"Who is that?" the Baroness asked.</p> + +<p>Wrayson hesitated for a moment and glanced towards Louise.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Fitzmaurice," he said.</p> + +<p>Louise seemed to turn suddenly rigid. She looked at him steadfastly for a +moment without speaking.</p> + +<p>"My father," she murmured at last.</p> + +<p>Wrayson nodded.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he said.</p> + +<p>"But—what has he to do with this?" Louise asked, with her eyes fixed +anxiously, almost fearfully, upon his.</p> + +<p>"I went to him for advice," Wrayson said quietly. "He has been always +very kind, and I thought it possible that he might be able to help us. He +promised to be here at the same hour as the others. Listen! There is the +bell at last."</p> + +<p>The Colonel entered the room. Louise half rose to her feet. Wrayson +hastened to meet him.</p> + +<p>"Herbert," he said, with an affectionate smile, "forgive me for being a +little late. Baroness, I am delighted to see you—and Louise."</p> + +<p>The Baroness held out both her hands, which the Colonel raised gallantly +to his lips. Louise he greeted with a fatherly and unembarrassed smile.</p> + +<p>"I must apologize to all of you," he said, "but perhaps this will be my +best excuse."</p> + +<p>He took the packet from his breast pocket and handed it over to the +Baroness. The room seemed filled with exclamations. The Colonel beamed +upon them all.</p> + +<p>"Quite simple," he declared. "I have just taken them from Mr. Sydney +Barnes upstairs. He, in his turn, took them from—"</p> + +<p>The door was suddenly opened. Mrs. Morris Barnes rushed into the room and +gazed wildly around.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" she exclaimed. "He has robbed me. The little beast! He got +into my rooms while I was out."</p> + +<p>The Colonel led her gallantly to a chair.</p> + +<p>"Calm yourself, my dear young lady," he said.</p> + +<p>"Where is he?" she cried. "Has he been here?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel shook his head.</p> + +<p>"He is in his room upstairs, but," he said, "I should not advise you to +go to him."</p> + +<p>"He has my packet—Augustus' packet," she cried, springing up.</p> + +<p>The Colonel laid his hand upon her arm.</p> + +<p>"No!" he said, "that packet has been restored to its rightful owner."</p> + +<p>She rose to her feet, trembling with anger. The Colonel motioned her to +resume her seat.</p> + +<p>"Come," he said, "so far as you are concerned, you have nothing to +complain of. You offered, I believe, to give it up yourself on one +condition."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with sudden eagerness.</p> + +<p>"Well?" she cried, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"That condition," he said, "shall be complied with."</p> + +<p>She looked into his face with strange intentness.</p> + +<p>"You mean," she said slowly, "that I shall know who it was that killed +my husband?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" the Colonel answered.</p> + +<p>A sudden cry rang through the room. Louise was on her feet. She came +staggering towards them, her hands outstretched.</p> + +<p>"No!" she screamed, "no! Father, you are mad! Send the woman away!"</p> + +<p>He smiled at her deprecatingly.</p> + +<p>"My dear Louise!" he exclaimed, "our word has been passed to this young +woman. Besides," he added, "circumstances which have occurred within the +last hour with our young friend upstairs would probably render an +explanation imperative! I am sorry for your sake, my dear young lady," he +continued, turning to Mrs. Barnes, "to have to tell you this, but if you +insist upon knowing, it was I who killed your husband."</p> + +<p>Louise fell back into her chair and covered her face with her hands. The +Baroness looked shocked but not surprised. Wrayson, dumb and unnerved, +had staggered back, and was leaning against the table. Mrs. Barnes had +already taken a step towards the door. She was very pale, but her eyes +were ablaze. Incredulity struggled with her passionate desire for +vengeance.</p> + +<p>"You!" she exclaimed. "What should you want to kill him for?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel sighed regretfully.</p> + +<p>"My dear young lady," he said, "it is very painful for me to have to be +so explicit, but the situation demands it. I killed him because he was +unfit to live—because he was a blackmailer of women, an unclean liver, +a foul thing upon the face of the earth."</p> + +<p>"It's a damned lie!" the girl hissed. "He was good to me, and you shall +swing for it!"</p> + +<p>The Colonel looked genuinely distressed.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," he said, "that you are prejudiced. If he was, as you say, +kind to you, it was for his own pleasure. Believe me, I made a careful +study of his character before I decided that he must go."</p> + +<p>She looked at him with fierce curiosity.</p> + +<p>"Are you a god," she demanded, "that you should have power of life or +death? Who are you to set yourself up as a judge?"</p> + +<p>"Pray do not believe," he begged, "that I arrogate to myself any such +position. Only, unfortunately, as regards your late husband's character +there could be no mistake, and concerning such men as he I have very +strong convictions."</p> + +<p>Wrayson, who had recovered himself a little, laid his hand upon the +Colonel's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Colonel," he said hoarsely, "you're not serious! You can't be! Be +careful. This woman means mischief. She will take you at your word."</p> + +<p>"How else should she take me?" the Colonel asked calmly. "I suppose her +prejudice in favour of this man was natural, but all I can say is that, +under similar circumstances, I should act to-day precisely as I did on +the night when I found him about to sell a woman's honour, for money to +minister to the degraded pleasures of his life."</p> + +<p>The woman leaned towards him, venomous and passionate.</p> + +<p>"You're a nice one to preach, you are," she cried hysterically, "you, +with a man's blood upon your hands! You, a murderer! Degraded indeed! +What were his poor sins compared with yours?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel shook his head sadly.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid, my dear young lady," he said, "that I should never be able +to convert you to my point of view. You are naturally prejudiced, and +when I consider that I have failed to convince my own daughter"—he +glanced towards Louise—"of the soundness of my views, it goes without +saying that I should find you also unsympathetic. You are anxious, I see, +to leave us. Permit me!"</p> + +<p>He held open the door for her with grave courtesy, but Wrayson pushed him +aside. He had recovered himself to some extent, but he still felt as +though he were moving in some horrible dream.</p> + +<p>"Colonel!" he exclaimed hoarsely, "you know what this means! You know +where she will go!"</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 253px;"> +<a name="to" id="to"></a> +<img src="images/illp289.jpg" width="253" height="400" alt=""'TO THE NEAREST POLICE STATION! THAT'S WHERE I'M OFF.'"" title="" /> +<span class="caption">"'TO THE NEAREST POLICE STATION! THAT'S WHERE I'M OFF.'"</span> +</div> + +<p>"If he don't, let me tell him," she interrupted. "To the nearest police +station! That's where I'm off."</p> + +<p>Wrayson glanced quickly at the Colonel, who seemed in no way discomposed.</p> + +<p>"Naturally," he assented. "No one, my dear young lady, will interfere +with you in your desire to carry out your painfully imperfect sense of +justice. Pray pass out!"</p> + +<p>She hesitated for a moment. Her poor little brain was struggling, +perhaps, for the last time, to adapt itself to his point of view—to +understand why, at a moment so critical, he should treat her with the +easy composure and tolerant good-nature of one who gives to a spoilt +child its own way. Then she saw signs of further interference on +Wrayson's part, and she delayed no longer.</p> + +<p>The Colonel closed the door after her, and stood for a moment with his +back against it, for Wrayson had shown signs of a desire to follow the +woman whose egress he had just permitted. He looked into their faces, +white with horror—full of dread of what was to come, and he smiled +reassuringly.</p> + +<p>"Amy," he said, turning to the Baroness, "surely you and Wrayson here are +possessed of some grains of common sense. Louise, I know, is too easily +swayed by sentiment. But you, Wrayson! Surely I can rely on you!"</p> + +<p>"For anything," Wrayson answered, with trembling lips. "But what can I +do? What is there to be done?"</p> + +<p>The Colonel smiled gently.</p> + +<p>"Simply to listen intelligently—sympathetically if you can," he +declared. "I want to make my position clear to you if I can. You heard +what that poor young woman called me? Probably you would have used the +same word yourself. A murderer!"</p> + +<p>"Yes!" Wrayson muttered. "I heard!"</p> + +<p>"When I came back from the Soudan twelve years ago, I had been +instrumental in killing some thousands of brave men, I dare say I had +killed a score or so with my own hand. Was I a murderer then?"</p> + +<p>"No!" Wrayson answered. "It was a different thing."</p> + +<p>"Then killing is not necessarily murder," the Colonel remarked. "Good! +Now take the case of a man like Morris Barnes. He belonged to the class +of humanity which you can call by no other name than that of vermin. +Whatever he touched he defiled. He was without a single good instinct, a +single passable quality. Wherever he lived, he bred contamination. +Whoever touched him was the worse for it. His influence upon the world +was an unchanging one for evil. Put aside sentiment for one moment, false +sentiment I should say, and ask yourself what possible sin can there be +in taking the life of such a one. If he had gone on four legs instead of +two, his breed would have been exterminated centuries ago."</p> + +<p>"We are not the judges," Wrayson began, weakly enough.</p> + +<p>"We are, sir," the Colonel thundered. "For what else have we been given +brains, the moral sense, the knowledge of good or evil? There are those +amongst us who become decadents, whose presence amongst us breeds +corruption, whose dirty little lives are like the trail of a foul insect +across the page of life. I hold it a just and moral thing to rid the +world of such a creature. The sanctity of human life is the canting cry +of the falsely sentimental. Human life is sacred or not, according to +its achievements. Such a one as Morris Barnes I would brush away like a +poisonous fly."</p> + +<p>"Bentham!" Wrayson faltered.</p> + +<p>"I killed him, sir!" the Colonel answered, "and others of his kidney +before him. Louise knew it. I argued with her as I am doing with you, but +it was useless. Nevertheless, I have lived as seemed good to me."</p> + +<p>"There is the law," Wrayson said, with a horrified glance towards Louise. +He understood now.</p> + +<p>The Colonel bowed his head.</p> + +<p>"I am prepared," the Colonel answered, "to pay the penalty of all +reformers."</p> + +<p>There was a ring at the bell. Wrayson threw open the door. A small boy +stood there. He held a piece of paper in his hand.</p> + +<p>"The lidy said," he declared, "that the white-headed gentleman would give +me 'arf a crown for this 'ere!"</p> + +<p>Wrayson gave him the money, and stepped back into the room. He gave +the paper to the Colonel, who read it calmly, first to himself and +then aloud.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>"I leave you to your conshens. He may have been bad, but he was +good to me!</p> + +<p>"AGNES B."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>The Colonel's eyes grew very soft.</p> + +<p>"Poor little woman," he said to himself. "Wrayson, you'll look after her. +You'll see she doesn't come to grief!"</p> + +<p>There was the sound of a heavy fall in the room above. The Colonel's face +assumed an air of intense irritation.</p> + +<p>"It's that infernal window pole," he declared. "I had doubts about it all +the time."</p> + +<p>Wrayson looked at him in horror.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" he demanded.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you had better go up and see," the Colonel answered, taking up +his hat. "A very commonplace tragedy after all! I don't quite see what +else he could have done. He was penniless, half mad with disappointment; +he'd been smoking too many cigarettes and drinking too much cheap liquor, +and he was in danger of arrest for selling the landlord's furniture. No +other end for him, I am afraid."</p> + +<p>Wrayson threw open the door.</p> + +<p>"Don't hurry," the Colonel declared. "You'll probably find that he has +hanged himself, but he must have been dead for some time."</p> + +<p>Wrayson tore up the stairs. The Colonel watched him for a moment. Then, +with a little sigh, he began to descend.</p> + +<p>"False sentiment," he murmured to himself sadly. "The world's full of +it."</p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII<br /><br /> +LOVE REMAINS</h3> + +<p>Wrayson rode slowly up the great avenue, and paused at the bend to see +for the first time at close quarters the house, which from the valley +below had seemed little more than a speck of white set in a deep bower of +green. Seen at close quarters its size amazed him. With its cluster of +outbuildings, it occupied nearly the whole of the plateau, which was like +a jutting tableland out from the side of the mountain. It was of two +stories only, and encircled with a great veranda supported by embowered +pillars. Free at last from the densely growing trees, Wrayson, for the +first time during his long climb, caught an uninterrupted view of the +magnificent panorama below. A land of hills, of black forests and shining +rivers; a land uncultivated but rich in promise, magnificent in its +primitivism. It was a wonderful dwelling this, of which the owner, +springing down from the veranda, was now on his way to meet his guest.</p> + +<p>The two men shook hands with unaffected heartiness. Duncan Fitzmaurice, +in his white linen riding clothes, seemed taller than ever, a little +gaunt and thin, too, from a recent attack of fever. There was no doubt +about the pleasure with which he received his guest.</p> + +<p>"Where is Louise?" he asked, looking behind down the valley.</p> + +<p>"Coming up in the wagons," Wrayson answered. "She has been riding all +day and was tired."</p> + +<p>A Kaffir boy came out with a tray and glasses. Wrayson helped himself to +a whisky and soda, and lit a cigar.</p> + +<p>"I'll get my pony and ride back with you to meet them," Duncan said.</p> + +<p>Wrayson detained him.</p> + +<p>"One moment," he said, "I have something to say to you first."</p> + +<p>Duncan glanced at him a little anxiously. Wrayson answered the look.</p> + +<p>"Nothing—disturbing," he said. "You learnt the end of everything from +my letters?"</p> + +<p>"I think so," Duncan answered.</p> + +<p>"The verdict on your father's death was absolutely unanimous," Wrayson +said. "He was seen to stagger on the platform just as the train came in, +and he seemed to make every effort to save himself. He was killed quite +instantaneously. I do not think that any one had a suspicion that it was +not entirely accidental."</p> + +<p>Duncan nodded.</p> + +<p>"And the other affair?"</p> + +<p>"You mean the death of Sydney Barnes? No one has ever doubted that he +committed suicide. Everything seemed to point to it. There is only one +man who knew about Morris Barnes and probably guesses the rest. His name +was Heneage, and he was your father's friend. He did not speak when he +was alive, so he is not likely to now. There is the young woman, of +course, Mrs. Morris Barnes. She has married again and gone to Canada. +Louise looked after her."</p> + +<p>Duncan took up his riding-whip from the table.</p> + +<p>"Now tell me," he said, "what it is that you have to say to me."</p> + +<p>"Do you read the papers?" Wrayson asked abruptly.</p> + +<p>"Only so far as they treat of matters connected with this country," +Duncan answered.</p> + +<p>"You have not read, then, of the Mexonian divorce?"</p> + +<p>The man's eyes were lit with fire. The handle of the riding-whip snapped +in his hands.</p> + +<p>"They have never granted it!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"Not in its first form," Wrayson answered hastily. "The whole suit fell +to the ground for want of evidence."</p> + +<p>"It is abandoned, then?" Duncan demanded.</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, the courts have granted the decree," Wrayson answered, +"but on political grounds only. Every material charge against the Queen +was withdrawn, and the divorce became a matter of arrangement."</p> + +<p>"She is free from that brute, then," Duncan said quietly. "I am glad."</p> + +<p>Wrayson glanced down towards the valley. A couple of wagons and several +Kaffir boys with led horses were just entering the valley.</p> + +<p>"Yes!" he said, "she is free!"</p> + +<p>Something in his intonation, some change in his face, gripped hold of +Duncan. He caught his visitor by the shoulder roughly.</p> + +<p>"What the devil do you mean?" he demanded, "What difference does it make? +She would never dare—to—"</p> + +<p>"You can never tell," Wrayson said, with a little sigh, "what a woman +will dare to do. Tell me the truth, Duncan. You care for her still?"</p> + +<p>"God knows it!" he answered fiercely. "There has never been another +woman. There never could be."</p> + +<p>"Jump on your pony, then, and ride down and meet them. Gently, man! +Don't break your neck." ...</p> + +<p>Later on they sat out upon the veranda. The swift darkness was falling +already upon the land, the colour was fading fast from the gorgeous +fragments of piled-up clouds in the western sky. Almost as they watched, +the outline faded away from the distant mountains, the rolling woods lost +their shape.</p> + +<p>"It's a wonderful country, yours, Duncan," Wrayson said.</p> + +<p>"It is God's own country," Duncan answered quietly. "What we shall make +of it, He only knows! It is the country of eternal mysteries."</p> + +<p>He pointed northwards.</p> + +<p>"Think," he said, "beneath those forests are the ruins of cities, +magnificent in civilization and art before a stone of Babylon was built, +when Nineveh was unknown. What a heritage! What a splendid heritage, if +only we can prove ourselves worthy of it!"</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Wrayson asked quietly. "Our day of decline is not yet. Even +the historians admit that."</p> + +<p>"It is the money-grabbers of the world who belittle empire," Duncan +answered. "It is from the money-grabbers of the Transvaal that we have +most to fear. Only those can know what Africa is, what it might mean to +us, who shake the dust of civilization from their feet, and creep a +little way into its heart. It is here in the quiet places that one begins +to understand. One has the sense of coming into a virgin country, strong, +fresh, and wonderful. Think of the race who might be bred here! They +would rejuvenate the world!"</p> + +<p>"And yet," the woman at his side murmured, the woman who had been a +queen, "it is not a virgin country after all. A little further +northwards and the forests have in their keeping the secrets of ages. +Shall we ever possess them, I wonder!"</p> + +<p>In the darkness she felt his arms about her. Louise and her husband had +wandered away.</p> + +<p>"One thing at least remains, changeless and eternal as history itself," +he murmured, as their lips met. "Thank God for it!"</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Avenger, by E. Phillips Oppenheim + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AVENGER *** + +***** This file should be named 9871-h.htm or 9871-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/9/8/7/9871/ + +Produced by E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary +Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Phillips Oppenheim + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Avenger + +Author: E. Phillips Oppenheim + +Posting Date: October 20, 2010 +Release Date: February, 2006 [EBook #9871] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE AVENGER *** + + + + +Produced by E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, Mary +Meehan, and the Project Gutenberg + + + + + + + +[Illustration: frontispiece] + + + + + THE AVENGER + + BY E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM + + Author of + + "The Master Mummer," "A Maker of History," + "The Malefactor," "The Lost Leader," + "The Great Secret," Etc. + + _Illustrated by_ + + ALEC BALL + + 1908 + + + + + CONTENTS + + + I. A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR + + II. THE HORROR OF THE HANSOM + + III. DISCUSSING THE CRIME + + IV. UNDER A CLOUD + + V. ON THE TELEPHONE + + VI. ONE THOUSAND POUNDS' REWARD + + VII. THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER + + VIII. THE BARONESS INTERVENES + + IX. A BOX AT THE ALHAMBRA + + X. OUTCAST + + XI. FALSE SENTIMENT + + XII. TIDINGS FROM THE CAPE + + XIII. SEARCHING THE CHAMBERS + + XIV. THE DEAD MAN'S BROTHER + + XV. THE LAWYER'S SUGGESTION + + XVI. A DINNER IN THE STRAND + + XVII. A CONFESSION OF LOVE + + XVIII. AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE + + XIX. DESPERATE WOOING + + XX. STABBED THROUGH THE HEART + + XXI. THE FLIGHT OF LOUISE + + XXII. THE CHATEAU OF ETARPE + + XXIII. A PASSIONATE PILGRIM + + XXIV. AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + XXV. THE MAN IN THE YELLOW BOOTS + + XXVI. MADAME DE MELBAIN + + XXVII. THE SPY + + XXVIII. THE SCENE IN THE AVENUE + + XXIX. A SUBSTANTIAL GHOST + + XXX. THE QUEEN OF MEXONIA + + XXXI. RETURNED FROM THE TOMB + + XXXII. AT THE HOTEL SPLENDIDE + + XXXIII. A HAND IN THE GAME + + XXXIV. AN ILL-ASSORTED COUPLE + + XXXV. HIS WIFE + + XXXVI. THE MURDERED MAN'S EFFECTS + + XXXVII. THE WIDOW'S ULTIMATUM + + XXXVIII. INEFFECTUAL WOOING + + XXXIX. THE COLONEL'S MISSION + + XL. BLACKMAIL + + XLI. THE COLONEL SPEAKS + + XLII. LOVE REMAINS + + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"THERE PLASHED ACROSS HER FACE A QUIVER, AS THOUGH OF PAIN" + +"AT THE SIGHT OF THE TWO MEN, THE BARONESS STOPPED SHORT" + +"HE WAS THERE ON HIS KNEES, WITH HIS ARMS AROUND THE TERRIFIED WOMAN" + +"'TO THE NEAREST POLICE STATION! THAT'S WHERE I'M OFF.'" + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A MYSTERIOUS VISITOR + + +The man and the woman stood facing one another, although in the uncertain +firelight which alone illuminated the room neither could see much save +the outline of the other's form. The woman stood at the further end of +the apartment by the side of the desk--his desk. The slim trembling +fingers of one hand rested lightly upon it, the other was hanging by her +side, nervously crumpling up the glove which she had only taken off a few +minutes before. The man stood with his back to the door through which he +had just entered. He was in evening dress; he carried an overcoat over +his arm, and his hat was slightly on the back of his head. A cigarette +was still burning between his lips, the key by means of which he had +entered was swinging from his little finger. So far no words had passed +between them. Both were apparently stupefied for the moment by the +other's unexpected presence. + +It was the man who recovered his self-possession first. He threw his +overcoat into a chair, and touched the brass knobs behind the door. +Instantly the room was flooded with the soft radiance of the electric +lights. They could see one another now distinctly. The woman leaned a +little forward, and there was amazement as well as fear flashing in her +soft, dark eyes. Her voice, when she spoke, sounded to herself unnatural. +To him it came as a surprise, for the world of men and women was his +study, and he recognized at once its quality. + +"Who are you?" she exclaimed. "What do you want?" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"It seems to me," he answered, "that I might more fittingly assume the +role of questioner. However, I have no objection to introduce myself. My +name is Herbert Wrayson. May I ask," he continued with quiet sarcasm, "to +what I am indebted for this unexpected visit?" + +She was silent for a moment, and as he watched her his surprise grew. +Equivocal though her position was, he knew very well that this was no +ordinary thief whom he had surprised in his rooms, engaged to all +appearance in rifling his desk. The fact that she was a beautiful woman +was one which he scarcely took into account. There were other things more +surprising which he could not ignore. Her evening dress of black net was +faultlessly made, and he knew enough of such things to be well aware that +it came from the hands of no ordinary dressmaker. A string of pearls, her +only ornament, hung from her neck, and her black hat with its drooping +feathers was the fellow of one which he had admired a few evenings ago at +the Ritz in Paris. It flashed upon him that this was a woman of +distinction, one who belonged naturally, if not in effect, to the world +of which even he could not claim to be a habitant. What was she doing in +his rooms?--of what interest to her were he and his few possessions? + +"Herbert Wrayson," she repeated, leaning a little towards him. "If your +name is Herbert Wrayson, what are you doing in these rooms?" + +"They happen to be mine," he answered calmly. + +"Yours!" + +She picked up a small latch-key from the desk. + +"This is number 11, isn't it?" she asked quickly. + +"No! Number 11 is the flat immediately overhead," he told her. + +She appeared unconvinced. + +"But I opened the door with this key," she declared. + +"Mr. Barnes and I have similar locks," he said. "The fact remains that +this is number 9, and number 11 is one story overhead." + +She drew a long breath, presumably of relief, and moved a step forward. + +"I am very sorry!" she declared. "I have made a mistake. You must please +accept my apologies." + +He stood motionless in front of the door. He was pale, clean-shaven, and +slim, and in his correct evening clothes he seemed a somewhat ordinary +type of the well-bred young Englishman. But his eyes were grey, and his +mouth straight and firm. + +She came to a standstill. Her eyes seemed to be questioning him. She +scarcely understood his attitude. + +"Kindly allow me to pass!" she said coldly. + +"Presently!" he answered. + +Her veil was still raised, and the flash of her eyes would surely have +made a weaker man quail. But Wrayson never flinched. + +"What do you mean by that?" she demanded. "I have explained my presence +in your room. It was an accident which I regret. Let me pass at once." + +"You have explained your presence here," he answered, "after a fashion! +But you have not explained what your object may be in making use of that +key to enter Mr. Barnes' flat. Are you proposing to subject his +belongings to the same inspection as mine?" he asked, pointing to his +disordered desk. + +"My business with Mr. Barnes is no concern of yours!" she exclaimed +haughtily. + +"Under ordinary circumstances, no!" he admitted. "But these are not +ordinary circumstances. Forgive me if I speak plainly. I found you +engaged in searching my desk. The presumption is that you wish to do the +same thing to Mr. Barnes'." + +"And if I do, sir!" she demanded, "what concern is it of yours? How do +you know that I have not permission to visit his rooms--that he did not +himself give me this key?" + +She held it out before him. He glanced at it and back into her face. + +"The supposition," he said, "does not commend itself to me." + +"Why not?" + +He looked at the clock. + +"You see," he declared, "that it is within a few minutes of midnight. To +be frank with you, you do not seem to me the sort of person likely to +visit a bachelor such as Mr. Barnes, in a bachelor flat, at this hour, +without some serious object." + +She kept silence for several moments. Her bosom was rising and falling +quickly, and a brilliant spot of colour was burning in her cheeks. Her +head was thrown a little back, she was regarding him with an intentness +which he found almost disconcerting. He had an uncomfortable sense that +he was in the presence of a human being who, if it had lain in her +power, would have killed him where he stood. Further, he was realizing +that the woman whom at first glance he had pronounced beautiful, was +absolutely the first of her sex whom he had ever seen who satisfied +completely the demands of a somewhat critical and highly cultivated +taste. The silence between them seemed extended over a time crowded and +rich with sensations. He found time to marvel at the delicate whiteness +of her bosom, gleaming like polished ivory under the network of her black +gown, to appreciate with a quick throb of delight the slim roundness of +her perfect figure, the wonderful poise of her head, the soft richness of +her braided hair. Every detail of feature and of toilet seemed to satisfy +to the last degree each critical faculty of which he was possessed. He +felt a little shiver of apprehension when he recalled the cold brutality +of the words which had just left his lips! Yet how could he deal with her +differently? + +"Is this man--Morris Barnes--your friend?" she asked, breaking a silence +which had done more than anything else to unnerve him. + +"No!" he answered. "I scarcely know the man. I have never seen him except +in the lift, or on the stairs." + +"Then you have no excuse for keeping me here," she declared. "I may be +his friend, or I may be his enemy. At least I possess the key of his +flat, presumably with his permission. My presence here I have explained. +I can assure you that it is entirely accidental! You have no right to +detain me for a moment." + +The clock on the mantelpiece struck midnight. A sudden passion surged in +his veins, a passion which, although at the time he could not have +classified it, was assuredly a passion of jealousy! He remembered the man +Barnes, whom he hated. + +"You shall not go to his rooms--at this hour!" he exclaimed. "You don't +know the man! If you were seen--" + +She laughed mockingly. + +"Let me pass!" she insisted. + +He hesitated. She saw very clearly that she was conquering. A moment +before she had respected this man. After all, though, he was like +the others. + +"I will go with you and wait outside," he said doggedly. "Barnes, at this +hour--is not always sober!" + +Her lips curled. + +"Be wise," she said, "and let me go. I do not need your protection or--" + +She broke off suddenly. The interruption was certainly startling +enough. From a table only a few feet off came the shrill tinkle of a +telephone bell. Wrayson mechanically stepped backwards and took the +receiver into his hand. + +"Who is it?" he asked. + +The voice which answered him was faint but clear. It seemed to Wrayson to +come from a long way off. + +"Is that Mr. Wrayson's flat in Cavendish Mansions?" it asked. + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered. "Who are you?" + +"I am a friend of Mr. Morris Barnes," the voice answered. "May I +apologize for calling you up, but the matter is urgent. Can you tell me +if Mr. Barnes is in?" + +"I am not sure, but I believe he is never in before one or two o'clock," +Wrayson answered. + +"Will you write down a message and leave it in his letter-box?" the +voice asked anxiously. "It is very important or I would not trouble you." + +"Very well," Wrayson answered. "What is it?" + +"Tell him instantly he returns to leave his flat and go to the Hotel +Francis. A friend is waiting there for him, the friend whom he has been +expecting!" + +"A lady?" Wrayson remarked a little sarcastically. + +"No!" the voice answered. "A friend. Will you do this? Will you promise +to do it?" + +"Very well," Wrayson said. "Who are you, and where are you ringing up +from?" + +"Remember you have promised!" was the only reply. + +"All right! Tell me your name," Wrayson demanded. + +No answer. Wrayson turned the handle of the instrument viciously. + +"Exchange," he asked, "who was that talking to me just now?" + +"Don't know," was the prompt answer. "We can't remember all the calls we +get. Ring off, please!" + +Wrayson laid down the receiver and turned round with a sudden sense of +apprehension. There was a feeling of emptiness in the room. He had not +heard a sound, but he knew very well what had happened. The door was +slightly open and the room was empty. She had taken advantage of his +momentary absorption to slip away. + +He stepped outside and stood by the lift, listening. The landing was +deserted, and there was no sound of any one moving anywhere. The lift +itself was on the ground floor. It had not ascended recently or he must +have heard it. He returned to his room and softly closed the door. Again +the sense of emptiness oppressed him. A faint perfume around the place +where she had stood came to him like a whiff of some delicious memory. He +set his teeth, lit a cigarette, and sitting down at his desk wrote a few +lines to his neighbour, embodying the message which had been given him. +With the note in his hand he ascended to the next floor. + +There was apparently no light in flat number 11, but he rang the bell and +listened. There was no answer, no sound of any one moving within. For +nearly ten minutes he waited--listening. He was strongly tempted to open +the door with his own key and see for himself if she was there. Then he +remembered that Barnes was a man whom he barely knew, and cordially +disliked, and that if he should return unexpectedly, the situation would +be a little difficult to explain. Reluctantly he descended to his own +flat, and mixing himself a whisky and soda, lit a pipe and sat down, +determined to wait until he heard Barnes return. In less than a quarter +of an hour he was asleep! + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE HORROR OF THE HANSOM + + +Wrayson sat up with a sudden and violent start. His pipe had fallen on to +the floor, leaving a long trail of grey ash upon his waistcoat and +trousers. The electric lights were still burning, but of the fire nothing +remained but a pile of ashes. As soon as he could be said to be conscious +of anything, he was conscious of two things. One was that he was +shivering with cold, the other that he was afraid. + +Wrayson was by no means a coward. He had come once or twice in his life +into close touch with dangerous happenings, and conducted himself with +average pluck. He never attempted to conceal from himself, however, that +these few minutes were minutes of breathless, unreasoning fear. His heart +was thumping against his side, and the muscles at the back of his neck +were almost numb as he slowly looked round the room. His eyes paused at +the door. It was slightly open, to his nervous fancy it seemed to be +shaking. His teeth chattered, he felt his forehead, and it was wet. + +He rose to his feet and listened. There was no sound anywhere, from above +or below. He tried to remember what it was that had awakened him so +suddenly. He could remember nothing except that awful start. Something +must have disturbed him! He listened again. Still no sound. He drew a +little breath, and, with his eyes glued upon the half-closed door, +recollected that he himself had left it open that he might hear Barnes go +upstairs. With a little laugh, still not altogether natural, he moved to +the spirit decanter and drank off half a wineglassful of neat whisky! + +"Nerves," he said softly to himself. "This won't do! What an idiot I was +to go to sleep there!" + +He glanced at the clock. It was five minutes to three. Then he moved +towards the door, and stood for several moments with the handle in his +hand. Gradually his confidence was returning. He listened attentively. +There was not a sound to be heard in the entire building. He turned back +into the room with a little sigh of relief. + +"Time I turned in," he muttered. "Wonder if that's rain." + +He lifted the blind and looked out. A few stars were shining still in a +misty sky, but a bank of clouds was rolling up and rain was beginning to +fall. The pavements were already wet, and the lamp-posts obscured. He was +about to turn away when a familiar, but unexpected, sound from the street +immediately below attracted his notice. The window was open at the top, +and he had distinctly heard the jingling of a hansom bell. + +He threw open the bottom sash and leaned out. A hansom cab was waiting at +the entrance to the flats. Wrayson glanced once more instinctively +towards the clock. Who on earth of his neighbours could be keeping a cab +waiting outside at that hour in the morning? With the exception of Barnes +and himself, they were most of them early people. Once more he looked out +of the window. The cabman was leaning forward in his seat with his head +resting upon his folded arms. He was either tired out or asleep. The +attitude of the horse was one of extreme and wearied dejection. Wrayson +was on the point of closing the window when he became aware for the first +time that the cab had an occupant. He could see the figure of a man +leaning back in one corner, he could even distinguish a white-gloved hand +resting upon the apron. The figure was not unlike the figure of Barnes, +and Barnes, as he happened to remember, always wore white gloves in the +evening. Barnes it probably was, waiting--for what? Wrayson closed the +window a little impatiently, and turned back into the room. + +"Barnes and his friends can go to the devil," he muttered. "I am +off to bed." + +He took a couple of steps across the room, and then stopped short. The +fear was upon him again. He felt his heart almost stop beating, a cold +shiver shook his whole frame. He was standing facing his half-open door, +and outside on the stone steps he heard the soft, even footfall of +slippered feet, and the gentle rustling of a woman's gown. + +He was not conscious of any movement, but when she reached the landing he +was standing there on the threshold, with the soft halo of light from +behind shining on to his white, fiercely questioning face. She came +towards him without speech, and her veil was lowered so that he could +only imperfectly see her face, but she walked as one newly recovered from +illness, with trembling footsteps, and with one hand always upon the +banisters. When she reached the corner she stopped, and seemed about to +collapse. She spoke to him, and her voice had lost all its quality. It +sounded harsh and unreal. + +"Why are you--spying on me?" she asked. + +"I am not spying," he answered. "I have been asleep--and woke up +suddenly." + +"Give me--some brandy!" she begged. + +She stood upon the threshold and drank from the wineglass which he +had filled. When she gave it back to him, he noticed that her fingers +were steady. + +"Will you come downstairs and let me out?" she asked. "I have looked +down and it is all dark on the ground floor. I am not sure that I +know my way." + +He hesitated, but only for a moment. Side by side they walked down four +flights of steps in unbroken silence. He asked no question, she attempted +no explanation. Only when he opened the door and she saw the waiting +hansom she very nearly collapsed. For a moment she clung to him. + +"He is there--in the cab," she moaned. "Where can I hide?" + +"Whoever it is," Wrayson answered, with his eyes fixed upon the hansom, +"he is either drunk or asleep." + +"Or dead!" she whispered in his ear. "Go and see!" + +Then, before Wrayson could recover from the shock of her words, she was +gone, flitting down the unlit side of the street with swift silent +footsteps. His eyes followed her mechanically. Then, when she had turned +the corner, he crossed the pavement towards the cab. Even now he could +see little of the figure in the corner, for his silk hat was drawn down +over his eyes. + +"Is that you, Barnes?" he asked. + +There came not the slightest response. Then for the first time the +hideous meaning of those farewell words of hers broke in upon his brain. +Had she meant it? Had she known or guessed? He leaned forward and +touched the white-gloved hand. He raised it and let go. It fell like a +dead, inert thing. He stepped back and confronted the cabman, who was +rubbing his eyes. + +"There's something wrong with your fare, cabby," he said. + +The cabby raised the trap door, looked down, and descended heavily on to +the pavement. + +"Well, I'm blowed!" he said. "Here, wake up, guv'nor!" + +There was no response. The cabby threw open the apron of the cab and +gently shook the recumbent figure. + +"I can't wait 'ere all night for my fare!" he exclaimed. "Wake up, God +luv us!" he broke off. + +He stepped hastily back on to the pavement, and began tugging at one of +his lamps. + +"Push his hat back, sir," he said. "Let's 'ave a look at 'im." + +Wrayson stood upon the step of the cab and lifted the silk hat from the +head of the recumbent figure. Then he sprang back quickly with a little +exclamation of horror. The lamp was shining full now upon the man's face, +livid and white, upon his staring but sightless eyes, upon something +around his neck, a fragment of silken cord, drawn so tightly that the +flesh seemed to hang over and almost conceal it. + +"Throttled, by God!" the cabman exclaimed. "I'm off to the police +station." + +He clambered up to his seat, and without another word struck his horse +with the whip. The cab drove off and disappeared. Wrayson turned slowly +round, and, closing the door of the flats, mounted with leaden feet to +the fourth story. + +He entered his own rooms, and walked without hesitation to the window, +which was still open. The fresh air was almost a necessity, for he felt +himself being slowly stifled. His knees were shaking, a cold icy horror +was numbing his heart and senses. A feeling of nightmare was upon him, as +though he had risen unexpectedly from a bed of delirium. There in front +of him, a little to the left, was the broad empty street amongst whose +shadows she had disappeared. On one side was the Park, and there was +obscurity indefinable, mysterious; on the other a long row of tall +mansions, a rain-soaked pavement, and a curving line of gas lamps. +Beyond, the river, marked with a glittering arc of yellow dots; further +away the glow of the sleeping city. Shelter enough there for any +one--even for her. A soft, damp breeze was blowing in his face; from +amongst the dripping trees of the Park the birds were beginning to make +their morning music. Already the blackness of night was passing away, the +clouds were lightening, the stars were growing fainter. Wrayson leaned a +little forward. His eyes were fixed upon the exact spot where she had +crossed the road and disappeared. All the horror of the coming day and +the days to come loomed out from the background of his thoughts. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +DISCUSSING THE CRIME + + +The murder of Morris Barnes, considered merely as an event, came as a +Godsend to the halfpenny press, which has an unwritten but immutable +contract with the public to provide it with so much sensation during the +week, in season or out of season. Nothing else was talked about anywhere. +Under the influence of the general example, Wrayson found himself within +a few days discussing its details with perfect coolness, and with an +interest which never flagged. He seemed continually to forget his own +personal and actual connection with the affair. + +It was discussed, amongst other places, at the Sheridan Club, of which +Wrayson was a member, and where he spent most of his spare time. At one +particular luncheon party the day after the inquest, nothing else was +spoken of. For the first time, in Wrayson's hearing, a new and somewhat +ominous light was thrown upon the affair. + +There were four men at the luncheon party, which was really not a +luncheon party at all, but a promiscuous coming together of four of the +men who usually sat at what was called the Colonel's table. First of all +there was the Colonel himself,--Colonel Edgar Fitzmaurice, C.B., +D.S.O.,--easily the most popular member of the club, a distinguished +retired officer, white-haired, kindly and genial, a man of whom no one +had ever heard another say an unkind word, whose hand was always in his +none too well-filled pockets, and whose sympathies were always ready to +be enlisted in any forlorn cause, deserving or otherwise. At his right +hand sat Wrayson; on his left Sydney Mason, a rising young sculptor, and +also a popular member of this somewhat Bohemian circle. Opposite was +Stephen Heneage, a man of a different and more secretive type. He called +himself a barrister, but he never practised; a journalist at times, but +he seldom put his name to anything he wrote. His interests, if he had +any, he kept to himself. In a club where a man's standing was reckoned by +what he was and what he produced, he owed such consideration as he +received to a certain air of reserved strength, the more noteworthy +amongst a little coterie of men, who amongst themselves were accustomed +to speak their minds freely, and at all times. If he was never brilliant, +he had never been heard to say a foolish thing or make a pointless +remark. He moved on his way through life, and held his place there more +by reason of certain negative qualities which, amongst a community of +optimists, were universally ascribed to him, than through any more +personal or likable gifts. He had a dark, strong face, but a slim, weakly +body. He was never unduly silent, but he was a better listener than +talker. If he had no close friends, he certainly had no enemies. Whether +he was rich or poor no man knew, but next to the Colonel himself, no one +was more ready to subscribe to any of those charities which the +Sheridanites were continually inaugurating on behalf of their less +fortunate members. The man who succeeds in keeping the "ego" out of sight +as a rule neither irritates nor greatly attracts. Stephen Heneage was +one of those who stood in this position. + +They were talking about the murder, or rather the Colonel was talking and +they were listening. + +"There is one point," he remarked, filling his glass and beaming +good-humouredly upon his companions, "which seems to have been entirely +overlooked. I am referring to the sex of the supposed assassin!" + +Wrayson looked up inquiringly. It was a point which interested him. + +"Nearly all of you have assumed," the Colonel continued, "that it must +have taken a strong man to draw the cord tight enough to have killed that +poor fellow without any noticeable struggle. As a matter of fact, a child +with that particular knot could have done it. It requires no strength, +only delicacy of touch, rapidity and nerve." + +"A woman, then--" Wrayson began. + +"Bless you, yes! a woman could have done it easily," the Colonel +declared, "only unfortunately there don't seem to have been any women +about. Why, I've seen it done in Korea with a turn of the wrist. It's +all knack." + +Wrayson shuddered slightly. The Colonel's words had troubled him more +than he would have cared to let any one know. + +"Woman or man or child," Mason remarked, "the person who did it seems to +have vanished in some remarkable manner from the face of the earth." + +"He certainly seems," the Colonel admitted, "to have covered up his +traces with admirable skill. I have read every word of the evidence at +the inquest, and I can understand that the police are completely +confused." + +Heneage and Mason exchanged glances of quiet amusement whilst the +Colonel helped himself to cheese. + +"Dear old boy," the latter murmured, "he's off on his hobby. Let him go +on! He enjoys it more than anything in the world." + +Heneage nodded assent, and the Colonel returned to the subject with +avidity a few moments later. + +"This man Morris Barnes," he affirmed, "seems to have been a somewhat +despicable, at any rate, a by no means desirable individual. He was of +Jewish origin, and he had not long returned from South Africa, where +Heaven knows what his occupation was. The money of which he was +undoubtedly possessed he seems to have spent, or at any rate some part +of it, in aping the life of a dissipated man about town. He was known +to the fair promenaders of the Empire and Alhambra, he was an _habitue_ +of the places where these--er--ladies partake of supper after the +exertions of the evening. Of home life or respectable friends he seems +to have had none." + +"This," Mason declared, leaning back and lighting a cigarette, "is better +than the newspapers. Go on, Colonel! Your biography may not be +sympathetic, but it is lifelike!" + +The Colonel's eyes were full of a distinct and vivid light. He scarcely +heard the interruption. He was on fire with his subject. + +"You see," he continued, "that the man's days were spent amongst a class +where the passions run loose, where restraint is an unknown virtue, where +self and sensuality are the upraised gods. One can easily imagine that +from amongst such a slough might spring at any time the weed of tragedy. +In other words, this man Morris Barnes moved amongst a class of people +to whom murder, if it could be safely accomplished, would be little more +than an incident." + +The Colonel lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. He was enjoying +himself immensely. + +"The curious part of the affair is, though," he continued deliberately, +"that this murder, as I suppose we must call it, bears none of the +hall-marks of rude passion. On the contrary, it suggests in more ways +than one the touch of the finished artist. The man's whole evening has +been traced without the slightest difficulty. He dined at the Cafe Royal +alone, promenaded afterwards at the Alhambra, and drove on about +supper-time to the Continental. He left there at 12.30 with a couple of +ladies whom he appeared to know fairly well, called at their flat for a +drink, and sent one out to his cabby--rather unusual forethought for such +a bounder. When he reappeared and directed the man to drive him to +Cavendish Mansions, Battersea, the driver tried to excuse himself. Both +he and his horse were dead tired, he said. Barnes, however, insisted upon +keeping him, and off they went. At Cavendish Mansions, Barnes alighted +and offered the man a sovereign. Naturally enough the fellow could not +change it, and Barnes went in to get some silver from his rooms, +promising to return in a minute or two. The cabby descended and walked to +the corner of the street to see if he could beg a match for his pipe from +any passer-by. He may have been away for perhaps five minutes, certainly +no more, during which time he stood with his back to the Mansions. Seeing +no one about, he returned to his cab, ascended to his seat, naturally +without looking inside, and fell fast asleep. The next thing he remembers +is being awakened by Wrayson here! So much for the cabby." + +"What a fine criminal judge was lost to the country, Colonel, when you +chose the army for a career," Mason remarked, turning round to order some +coffee. "Such coherence--such an eye for detail. Pass the matches, +Wrayson. Thanks, old chap!" + +The Colonel smiled placidly. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that I should never have had the heart to +sentence anybody to anything, but I must admit that things of this sort +do interest me. I love to weigh them up and theorize. The more +melodramatic they are the better." + +Heneage helped himself to a cigarette from Mason's case, and leaned back +in his chair. + +"I never have the patience," he remarked, "to read about these things in +the newspapers, but the Colonel's _resume_ is always thrilling. Do go on. +There won't be any pool till four o'clock." + +The Colonel smiled good-naturedly. + +"It's good of you fellows to listen to my prosing," he remarked. "No use +denying that it is a sort of hobby of mine. You all know it. Well, we'll +say we've finished with the cabby, then. Enter upon the scene, of all +people in the world, our friend Wrayson!" + +"Hear, hear!" murmured Mason. + +Wrayson changed his position slightly. With his head resting upon his +hand, he seemed to be engaged in tracing patterns upon the tablecloth. + +"Wrayson knows nothing of Barnes beyond the fact that they are neighbours +in the same flats. Being the assistant editor of a journal of world-wide +fame, however, he has naturally a telephone in his flat. By means of that +instrument he receives a message in the middle of the night from an +unknown person in an unknown place, which he is begged to convey to +Barnes. The message is in itself mysterious. Taken in conjunction with +what happened to Barnes, it is deeply interesting. Barnes, it seems, is +to go immediately on his arrival, at whatever hour, to the Hotel Francis. +Presumably he would know from whom the message came, and the sender does +not seem to have doubted that if it was conveyed to Barnes he would obey +the summons. Wrayson agrees to and does deliver it. That is to say, he +writes it down and leaves it in the letter-box of Barnes' door, Barnes not +having yet returned. Now we begin to get mysterious. That communication +from our friend here has not been discovered. It was not in the +letter-box; it was not upon the person of the dead man. We cannot tell +whether or not he ever received it. I believe that I am right so far?" + +"Absolutely," Wrayson admitted. + +"Our friend Wrayson, then," the Colonel continued, beaming upon his +neighbour, "instead of going to bed like a sensible man, takes up a book +and falls asleep in his easy-chair. He wakes up about three or four +o'clock, and his attention is then attracted by the jingling of a hansom +bell below. He looks out of window and sees a cab, both the driver and +the occupant of which appear to be asleep. The circumstance striking him +as somewhat unusual, he descends to the street and finds--well, rather +more than he expected. He finds the cabman asleep, and his fare +scientifically and effectually throttled by a piece of silken cord." + +Wrayson turned to the waiter and ordered a liqueur brandy. + +"Have one, you fellows?" he asked. "Good! Four, waiter." + +He tossed his own off directly it arrived. His lips were pale, and the +hand which raised the glass to his lips shook. Heneage alone, who was +watching him through a little cloud of tobacco smoke, noticed this. + +"Have you finished with me, Colonel?" Wrayson asked. + +"Practically," the Colonel answered, smiling, "unless you can answer one +of the three queries suggested by my _resume_. First, who killed Morris +Barnes? Secondly, when was it done? Thirdly, where was it done? I have +left out a possible fourth, why was it done? because, in this case, I +think that the motive and the man are practically identical. I mean that +if you discover one, you discover the other." + +Heneage leaned across the table towards the Colonel. + +"You are a magician, Colonel," he declared quietly. "I glanced through +this case in the paper, and it did not even interest me. Since I have +listened to you I have fallen under the spell of the mysterious. Have you +any theories?" + +The Colonel's face fell a little. + +"Well, I am afraid not," he admitted regretfully. "To be perfectly +interesting the affair certainly ought to present something more definite +in the shape of a clue. You see, providing we accept the evidence of +Wrayson and the cabman, and I suppose," he added, laying his hand +affectionately upon Wrayson's shoulder, "we must, the actual murderer is +a person absolutely unseen or unheard of by any one. If you are all +really interested we will discuss it again in a week's time after the +adjourned inquest." + +"I, for one, shall look forward to it," Heneage remarked, glancing across +towards Wrayson. "What about a pool?" + +"I'm on," Wrayson declared, rising a little abruptly. + +"And I," Mason assented. + +"And I can't," the Colonel said regretfully. "I must go down to Balham +and see poor Carlo Mallini; I hear he's very queer." + +The Colonel loved pool, and he hated a sick-room. The click of the +billiard balls reached him as he descended the stairs, but he only sighed +and set out manfully for Charing Cross. On the way he entered a +fruiterer's shop and inquired the price of grapes. They were more than he +expected, and he counted out the contents of his trousers pockets before +purchasing. + +"A little short of change," he remarked cheerfully. "Yes! all right, I'll +take them." + +He marched out, swinging a paper bag between his fingers, travelled third +class to Balham, and sat for a couple of hours with the invalid whom he +had come to see, a lonely Italian musician, to whom his coming meant more +than all the medicine his doctor could prescribe. He talked to him +glowingly of the success of his recent concert (more than a score of the +tickets sold had been paid for secretly by the Colonel himself and his +friends), prophesied great things for the future, and laughed away all +the poor fellow's fears as to his condition. There were tears in his eyes +as he walked to the station, for he had visited too many sick-beds to +have much faith in his own cheerful words, and all the way back to London +he was engaged in thinking out the best means of getting the musician +sent back to his own country, Arrived at Charing Cross, he looked +longingly towards the club, and ruefully at the contents of his pocket. +Then with a sigh he turned into a little restaurant and dined for +eighteen-pence. + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +UNDER A CLOUD + + +Exactly one week later, six men were smoking their after-dinner cigars at +the same round table in the dining-room at the Sheridan Club. As a rule, +it was the hour when, with all the reserve of the day thrown aside, +badinage and jest reigned supreme, and the humourist came to his own. +To-night chairs were drawn a little closer together, voices were subdued, +and the conversation was of a more serious order. Not even the pleasant +warmth of the room, the fragrance of tobacco, and the comfortable sense +of having dined, could altogether dispel a feeling of uneasiness which +all more or less shared. It chanced that all six were friends of Herbert +Wrayson's. + +The Colonel, as usual, was in the chair, but even on his kindly features +the cloud hovered. + +"Of course," he said, "none of us who know Wrayson well would believe for +a moment that he could be connected in any way with this beastly affair. +The unfortunate part of it is, that others, who do not know him, might +easily be led to think otherwise!" + +"It is altogether his own fault, too," Mason remarked. "He gave his +evidence shockingly." + +"And his movements that night, or rather that morning, were certainly a +little peculiar," another man remarked. "His connection with the affair +seemed to consist of a series of coincidences. The law does not look +favourably upon coincidences!" + +"But, after all," the Colonel remarked, "he scarcely knew the fellow! +Just nodded to him on the stairs, and that sort of thing. Why, there +isn't a shadow of a motive!" + +"We can't be sure of that, Colonel," Heneage remarked quietly. "I wonder +how much we really know of the inner lives of even our closest friends? I +fancy that we should be surprised if we realized our ignorance!" + +The Colonel stroked his grey moustache thoughtfully. + +"That may be true," he said, "of a good many of us. Wrayson, however, +never struck me as being a particularly secretive sort of chap." + +"Unfortunately, that counts for very little," Heneage declared. "The +things which surprise us most in life come often from the most unlikely +people. We none of us mean to be deceitful, but a perfectly honest life +is a luxury which few of us dare indulge in." + +The Colonel regarded him gravely. + +"I hope," he said, "that you don't mean that you consider Wrayson +capable--" + +"I wasn't thinking of Wrayson at all," Heneage interrupted. "I was +generalizing. But I must say this. I think that, given sufficient +provocation or motive, there isn't one of us who wouldn't be capable of +committing murder. A man's outer life is lived according to the laws of +circumstances and society: his inner one no one knows anything about, +except himself--and God!" + +"Heneage," Mason sighed, "is always cynical after 'kuemmel.'" + +Heneage shrugged his shoulders and lit a cigarette. + +"No!" he said, "I am not cynical. I simply have a weakness for the truth. +You will find it rather a hard material to collect if you set out in +earnest. But to return to Wrayson. Let me ask you a question. We are all +friends of his, more or less intimate friends. You would all of you scout +the idea of his having any share in the murder of Morris Barnes. What did +you make of his evidence at the inquest this afternoon? What do you think +of his whole deportment and condition?" + +"I can answer that in one word," the Colonel declared. "I think that it +is unfortunate. The poor fellow has been terribly upset, and his nerves +have not been able to stand the strain. That is all there is about it!" + +"Wrayson has been working up to the limit for years," Mason remarked, +"and he's not a particularly strong chap. I should say that he was about +due for a nervous breakdown." + +A waiter approached the table and addressed the Colonel--he was wanted on +the telephone. During his absence, Heneage leaned back in his chair and +relapsed into his usual imperturbability. He was known amongst his +friends generally as the silent man. It was very seldom that he +contributed so much to their discussions as upon this occasion. Perhaps +for that reason his words, when he spoke, always carried weight. Mason +changed his place and sat beside him. The others had wandered off into a +discussion upon a new magazine. + +"Between ourselves, Heneage," Mason said quietly, "have you anything at +the back of your head about Wrayson?" + +Heneage did not immediately reply. He was gazing at the little cloud of +blue tobacco smoke which he had just expelled from his lips. + +"There is no reason," he declared, "why my opinion should be worth any +more than any one else's. I think as highly of Wrayson as any of you." + +"Granted," Mason answered. "But you have a theory or an idea of some +sort concerning him. What is it?" + +"If you really want to know," Heneage said, "I believe that Wrayson has +kept something back. It is a very dangerous thing to do, and I believe +that he realizes it. I believe that he has some secret knowledge of the +affair which he has not disclosed--knowledge which he has kept out of his +evidence altogether." + +"A--guilty--knowledge?" Mason whispered. + +"Not necessarily!" Heneage answered. "He may be shielding some one." + +"If you are right," Mason said anxiously, "it is a serious affair." + +"Very serious indeed," Heneage assented. "I believe that he is +realizing it." + +The Colonel came back looking a little disturbed. + +"Sorry, boys, but I must be off," he announced. "Wrayson has just +telephoned to ask me to go down and see him. I'm afraid he's queer! I've +sent for a hansom." + +"Poor chap!" Mason murmured. "Let us know if any of us can do anything." + +The Colonel nodded and took his departure. The others drifted up into the +billiard-room. Heneage alone remained seated at the end of the table. He +was playing idly with his wineglass, but his eyes were fixed steadfastly, +if a little absently, upon the Colonel's empty place. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +ON THE TELEPHONE + + +It was a little hard even for the Colonel to keep up his affectation of +cheerfulness when he found himself alone with the man whom he had come to +visit. His experience of life had been large and varied, but he had never +yet seen so remarkable a change in any human being in twenty-four hours. +There were deep black lines under his eyes, his cheeks were colourless, +every now and then his features twitched nervously, as though he were +suffering from an attack of St. Vitus' dance. His hand, which had lain +weakly in the Colonel's, was as cold as ice, although there was a roaring +fire in the room. He had admitted the Colonel himself, and almost dragged +him inside the door. + +"Did you meet any one outside--upon the stairs?" he asked feverishly. + +"No one upon the stairs," the Colonel answered. "There was a man lighting +his pipe in the doorway." + +Wrayson shivered as he turned away. + +"Watching me!" he declared. "There are two of them! They are watching me +all the time." + +The Colonel took off his coat. The room seemed to him like a furnace. +Then he stretched out his hands and laid them upon Wrayson's shoulders. + +"What if they are?" he declared cheerfully. "They won't eat you. Besides, +it is very likely the dead man's rooms they are watching." + +"They followed me home from the inquest," Wrayson muttered. + +The Colonel laughed. + +"And if I'd been living here," he remarked, "they'd have followed me +home just the same. Now, Herbert, my young friend," he continued, +"sit down and tell me all about it like a man. You're in a bit of +trouble, of course, underneath all this. Let's hear it, and we'll +find the best way out." + +The Colonel's figure was dominant; his presence alone seemed to dispel +that unreal army of ghosts and fancies which a few moments before had +seemed to Wrayson to be making his room like the padded cell of a lunatic +asylum. His tone, too, had just enough sympathy to make its cheerfulness +reassuring. Wrayson began to feel glimmerings of common sense. + +"Yes!" he said, "I've something to tell you. That's why I telephoned." + +The Colonel rose again to his feet, and began fumbling in the pocket of +his overcoat. + +"God bless my soul, I almost forgot!" he exclaimed, "and the fellows +would make me bring it. We guessed how you were feeling--much better to +have come up and dined with us. Here we are! Get some glasses, there's a +good chap." + +A gold-foiled bottle appeared, and a packet of hastily cut sandwiches. +Wrayson found himself mechanically eating and drinking before he knew +where he was. Then in an instant the sandwiches had become delicious, and +the wine was rushing through his veins like a new elixir of life. He was +himself again, the banging of anvils in his head had ceased; he was +shaken perhaps, but a sane man. His eyes filled with tears, and he +gripped the Colonel by the hand. + +"Colonel, you're--you're--God knows what you are," he murmured. "All the +ordinary things sound commonplace. I believe I was going mad." + +The Colonel leaned back and laughed as though the idea tickled him. + +"Not you!" he declared. "Bless you, I know what nerves are! Out in India, +thirty-five years ago, I've had to relieve men on frontier posts who +hadn't seen a soul to speak to for six months! Weird places some of them, +too--gives me the creeps to think of them sometimes! Now light up that +cigar," he added, throwing one across, "and let's hear the trouble." + +Wrayson lit his cigar with fingers which scarcely shook. He threw the +match away and smoked for a moment in silence. + +"It's about this Morris Barnes affair," he said abruptly. "I've kept +something back, and I'm a clumsy hand at telling a story that doesn't +contain all the truth. The consequence is, of course, that I'm suspected +of having had a hand in it myself." + +The Colonel's manner had for a moment imperceptibly changed. Lines had +come out in his face which were not usually visible, his upper lip had +stiffened. One could fancy that he might have led his men into battle +looking something like this. + +"What is it that you know?" he asked. + +"There was another person in the flats that night, who was interested in +Morris Barnes, who visited his rooms, who was with me when I first saw +him dead." + +The Colonel shaded his face with his hand. The heat from the fire +was intense. + +"Why have you kept back this knowledge?" he asked. + +"Because--it was a woman, and I am a fool!" Wrayson answered. + +There was a silence. Then the Colonel pushed back his chair and dabbed +his forehead with his handkerchief. The room was certainly hot, and the +handkerchief was wet. + +"Tell me about it," he said quietly. "I expected something of the sort!" + +"On that morning," Wrayson began, "I returned home about twelve o'clock, +let myself in with my own latch-key, and found a woman standing before my +open desk going through my papers." + +"A friend?" the Colonel asked. + +"A complete stranger!" Wrayson answered. "Her surprise at seeing me was +at least equal to my own. I gathered that she had believed herself to be +in the flat of Morris Barnes, which is the corresponding one above." + +"What did you do?" the Colonel asked. + +"What I should have done I am not sure," Wrayson answered, "but while I +was talking to her the telephone bell rang, and I received that message +which I spoke about at the inquest. It was a mysterious sort of +business--I can hear that voice now. I was interested, and while I stood +there she slipped away." + +"Is that all?" the Colonel asked. + +"No!" Wrayson answered with a groan. "I wish to God it was!" + +The Colonel moved his position a little. The cigar had burnt out between +his fingers, but he made no effort to light it. + +"Go on," he said. "Tell me the rest. Tell me what happened afterwards." + +"I wrote down the message for Barnes and left it in his letter-box. +There seemed then to be no light in his flat. Afterwards I lit a pipe, +left my door open, and sat down, with the intention of waiting till +Barnes came home and explaining what had happened. I fell asleep in my +chair and woke with a start. It was nearly three o'clock. I was going to +turn in when I heard the jingling of a hansom bell down below. I looked +out of the window and saw the cab standing in the street. Almost at the +same time I heard footsteps outside. I went to the door of my flat and +came face to face with the girl descending from the floor above." + +"At three o'clock in the morning?" the Colonel interrupted. + +Wrayson nodded. + +"She was white and shaking all over," he continued rapidly. "She asked +me for brandy and I gave it to her; she asked me to see her out of the +place, and I did so. When I opened the door to let her out and we saw +the man leaning back in the cab, she moaned softly to herself. I said +something about his being asleep or drunk--'or dead!' she whispered in +my ear, and then she rushed away from me. She turned into the Albert +Road and disappeared almost at once. I could not have followed her if I +would. I had just begun to realize that something was wrong with the man +in the cab!" + +"This is all?" the Colonel asked. + +"It is all!" Wrayson answered. + +"You do not know her name, or why she was here? You have not seen +her since?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I know absolutely nothing," he said, "beyond what I have told you." + +The Colonel struck a match and relit his cigar. + +"I should like to understand," he said quietly, "why you avoided all +mention of her in your evidence." + +Wrayson laughed oddly. + +"I should like to understand that myself," he declared. "I can only +repeat what I said before. She was a woman, and I was a fool." + +"In plain English," the Colonel said, "you did it to shield her?" + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered. + +The Colonel nodded thoughtfully. + +"Well," he said, "you were in a difficult position, and you made a +deliberate choice. I tell you frankly that I expected to hear worse +things. Do you believe that she committed the murder?" + +"No!" Wrayson answered. "I do not!" + +"You believe that she may be associated with--the person who did?" + +"I cannot tell," Wrayson declared. + +"In any case," the Colonel continued, "you seem to have been the only +person who saw her. Whether you were wise or not to omit all mention of +her in your evidence--well, we won't discuss that. The best of us have +gone on the wrong side of the hedge for a woman before now--and damned +glad to do it. What I can't quite understand, old chap, is why you have +worked yourself up into such a shocking state. You don't stand any chance +of being hanged, that I can see!" + +Wrayson laughed a little shamefacedly. + +"To tell you the truth," he said, "I am beginning to feel ashamed of +myself. I think it was the sense of being spied upon, and being +alone--in this room--which got a bit on my nerves. I feel a different man +since you came down." + +The Colonel nodded cheerfully. + +"That's all right," he declared. "The next thing to--" + +The Colonel broke off in the midst of his sentence. A few feet away from +him the telephone bell was ringing. Wrayson rose to his feet and took the +receiver into his hand. + +"Hullo!" he said. + +The voice which answered him was faint but clear. Wrayson almost dropped +the instrument. He recognized it at once. + +"Is that Mr. Herbert Wrayson?" it asked. + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered. "Who are you?" + +"I am the person who spoke to you a few nights ago," was the answer. +"Never mind my name for the present. I wish to arrange a meeting--for +some time to-morrow. I have a matter--of business--to discuss with you." + +"Anywhere--at any time," Wrayson answered, almost fiercely. "You cannot +be as anxious to see me as I am to know who you are." + +The voice changed a little in its intonation. A note of mockery had +stolen into it. + +"You flatter me," it said. "I trust that our meeting will be mutually +agreeable. You must excuse my coming to Battersea, as I understand that +your flat is subjected to a most inconvenient surveillance. May I call at +the office of your paper, at say eleven o'clock tomorrow?" + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered. "You know where it is?" + +"Certainly! I shall be there. A Mr. Bentham will ask for you. +Good night!" + +Wrayson's unknown friend had rung off. He replaced the receiver and +turned to the Colonel. + +"Do you know who that was?" he asked eagerly. + +"I can guess," the Colonel answered. + +"To-morrow, at eleven o'clock," Wrayson declared, "I shall know who +killed Morris Barnes." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +ONE THOUSAND POUNDS' REWARD + + +But when the morrow came, and his visitor was shown into Wrayson's +private office, he was not quite so sure about it. Mr. Bentham had not in +the least the appearance of a murderer. Clean-shaven, a little slow in +speech, quietly dressed, he resembled more than anything a country +solicitor in moderate practice. + +He bowed in correct professional manner, and laid a brown paper parcel +upon the table. + +"I believe," he said, "that I have the honour of addressing Mr. Wrayson?" + +Wrayson nodded a little curtly. + +"And you, I suppose," he remarked, "are the owner of the mysterious +voice which summoned Morris Barnes to the Francis Hotel on the night of +his murder?" + +"It was I who spoke to you," Mr. Bentham admitted. + +"Very well," Wrayson said, "I am glad to see you. It was obvious, from +your message, that you knew of some danger which was threatening Morris +Barnes that night. It is therefore only fair to presume that you are also +aware of its source." + +"You go a little fast, sir," Mr. Bentham objected. + +"My presumption is a fair one," Wrayson declared. "You are perhaps aware +of my unfortunate connection with this affair. If so, you will understand +that I am particularly anxious to have it cleared up." + +"It is not at all certain that I can help you," his visitor said +precisely. "It depends entirely upon yourself. Will you permit me to put +my case before you?" + +"By all means," Wrayson answered. "Go ahead." + +Mr. Bentham took the chair towards which Wrayson had somewhat impatiently +pointed, and unbuttoned his coat. It was obvious that he was not a person +to be hurried. + +"In the first place, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "I must ask you distinctly to +understand that I am not addressing you on my own account. I am a lawyer, +and I am acting on behalf of a client." + +"Who is he?" Wrayson asked. "What is his name?" + +The ghost of a smile flickered across the lawyer's thin lips. + +"I am not at liberty to divulge his identity," he answered. "I am, +however, fully empowered to act for him." + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"He may find it necessary to disclose it, and before very long," he +remarked. "Well, go on." + +Mr. Bentham discreetly ignored the covert threat in Wrayson's words. + +"My mission to you, Mr. Wrayson," he declared, "is a somewhat delicate +one. It is not, in fact, connected with the actual--tragedy to which you +have alluded. My commission is to regain possession of a paper which was +stolen either from the person of Morris Barnes or from amongst his +effects, on that night." + +Wrayson looked up eagerly. + +"The motive at last!" he exclaimed. "What was the nature of this +paper, sir?" + +Mr. Bentham's eyebrows were slowly raised. + +"That," he said, "we need not enter into for the moment. The matter of +business between you and myself, or rather my client, is this. I am +authorized to offer a thousand pounds reward for its recovery." + +Wrayson was impressed, although the other's manner left him a +little puzzled. + +"Why not offer the reward for the discovery of the murderer?" he asked. +"It would come, I presume, to the same thing." + +"By no means," the lawyer answered dryly. "I am afraid that I have not +expressed myself well. My client cares nothing for Morris Barnes, dead or +alive. His interest begins and ends with the recovery of that paper." + +"But isn't it almost certain," Wrayson persisted, "that the thief and the +murderer are the same person? Your client ought to have come forward at +the inquest. The thing which has chiefly troubled the police in dealing +with this matter is the apparent lack of motive." + +"My client is not actuated in any way by philanthropic motives," Mr. +Bentham said coldly. "To tell you the truth, he does not care whether the +murderer of Morris Barnes is brought to justice or not. He is only +anxious to recover possession of the document of which I have spoken." + +"If he has a legal claim to it," Wrayson said, "he had better offer his +reward openly. He would probably help himself then, and also those who +are anxious to have this mystery solved." + +"Are you amongst those, Mr. Wrayson?" his visitor asked quietly. + +Wrayson started slightly, but he retained his self-composure. + +"I am very much amongst them," he answered. "My connection with the +affair was an extremely unpleasant one, and it will remain so until the +murderer of Morris Barnes is brought to book." + +"Or murderess," Mr. Bentham murmured softly. + +Wrayson reeled in his chair as though he had been struck a violent +and unexpected blow. He understood now the guarded menace of his +visitor's manner. He felt the man's eyes taking merciless note of his +whitening cheeks. + +"My client," the lawyer continued, "desires to ask no questions. All that +he wants is the document to which he is entitled, and which was stolen on +the night when Mr. Morris Barnes met with his unfortunate accident." + +Wrayson had pulled himself together with an effort. + +"I presume," he said, "from your frequent reiteration, that I may take +this as being to some extent a personal offer. If so, let me assure you, +sir, that so far as I am concerned I know nothing whatever of any papers +or other belongings which were in the possession of my late neighbour. I +have never seen or heard of any. I do not even know why you should have +come to me at all." + +"I came to you," Mr. Bentham said, "because I was very well aware that, +for some reason or other, your evidence at the inquest was not quite as +comprehensive as it might have been." + +"Then, for Heaven's sake, tell me all that you know!" Wrayson exclaimed. +"Take my word for it, I know nothing of this document or paper. I have +neither seen it nor heard of it. I know nothing whatever of the man or +his affairs. I can't help you. I would if I could. On the other hand, you +can throw some light upon the motive for the crime. Who is your client? +Let me go and see him for myself." + +Mr. Bentham rose to his feet, and began slowly to draw on his gloves. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he said quietly, "I am disappointed with the result of my +visit to you. I admit it frankly. You are either an extremely ingenuous +person, or a good deal too clever for me. In either case, if you will not +treat with me, I need not waste your time." + +Wrayson moved to the door and stood with his back to it. + +"I am not at all sure," he said, "that I am justified in letting you go +like this. You are in possession of information which would be invaluable +to the police in their search for the murderer of Morris Barnes." + +Mr. Bentham smiled coldly. + +"And are not you," he remarked, "in the same fortunate position--with the +unfortunate exception, perhaps, of having already given your testimony? +Of the two, if disclosures had to be made, I think that I should prefer +my own position." + +Wrayson remained where he was. + +"I am inclined," he said, "to risk it. At least you would be compelled to +disclose your client's name." + +Mr. Bentham visibly flinched. He recovered himself almost immediately, +but the shadow of fear had rested for a moment, at any rate, upon his +impassive features. + +"I am entirely at your service," he said coldly. "My client has at least +not broken the laws of his country." + +Wrayson stood away from the door. + +"You can go," he said shortly, "if you will leave me your address." + +Mr. Bentham bowed. + +"I regret that I have no card with me," he said, "but I have an office, +a single room only, in number 8, Paper Buildings, Adelphi. If you should +happen to come across--that document--" + +Wrayson held open the door. + +"If I should come to see you," he said, "it will be on other business." + + * * * * * + +Wrayson lunched at the club that morning, and received a warm greeting +from his friends. The subject of the murder was, as though by common +consent, avoided. Towards the end of the meal the Colonel received a +telegram, which he read and laid down upon the table in front of him. + +"By Jove!" he said softly, "I'd forgotten all about it. Boys, you've got +to help me out." + +"We're on," Mason declared. "What is it? a fight?" + +"It's a garden party my girls are giving to-morrow afternoon," the +Colonel answered. "I promised to take some of you down. Come, who's going +to help me out? Wrayson? Good! Heneage? Excellent! Mason? Good fellows, +all of you! Two-twenty from Waterloo, flannels and straw hats." + +The little group broke up, and the Colonel was hurried off into the +Committee Room. Wrayson and Heneage exchanged dubious glances. + +"A garden party in May!" the latter remarked. + +"Taking time by the forelock a little, isn't it?" + +Wrayson sighed resignedly. + +"It's the Colonel!" he declared. "We should have to go if it were +December!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE COLONEL'S DAUGHTER + + +After all, the garden party was not so bad. The weather was perfect, and +the grounds of Shirley House were large enough to find amusement for all +the guests. Wrayson, who had made great friends with the Colonel's +younger daughter, enjoyed himself immensely. After a particularly +strenuous set of tennis, she led him through the wide-open French windows +into a small morning-room. + +"We can rest for a few minutes in here," she remarked. "You can consider +it a special mark of favour, for this is my own den." + +"You are spoiling me," Wrayson declared, laughing. "May I see those +photographs?" + +"If you like," she answered, "only you mustn't be too critical, for I'm +only a beginner, you know. Here's a bookful of them you can look through, +while I go and start the next set." + +She placed a volume in his hand and swung out of the room, tall, fresh, +and graceful. Wrayson watched her admiringly. In her perfect naturalness +and unaffected good-humour, she reminded him a good deal of her father, +but curiously enough there was some other likeness which appealed to him +even more powerfully, and yet which he was unable to identify. It puzzled +him so that for a moment or two after her departure he sat watching the +door through which she had disappeared, with a slight frown upon his +forehead. She was undoubtedly charming, and yet something in connection +with her seemed to impress him with an impending sense of trouble. +Everything about her person and manners was frank and girlish, and yet +she was certainly recalling to his mind things that he had been +struggling all the afternoon to forget. Already he began to feel the +clouds of nervousness and depression stealing down upon him. He struck +the table with his clenched fist. He would have none of it. Outside was +the delicious sunshine, through the open window stole in the perfume of +the roses which covered the wall, and mignonette from the trim borders, +and stocks from the bed fringing the lawn. The murmur of pleasant +conversation was incessant and musical. For a time Wrayson had escaped. +He swore to himself that he would go back no more into bondage; that he +would dwell no more upon the horrors through which he had lived. He would +take hold of the pleasant things of life with both hands, and grip them +tightly. A man should be master of his thoughts, not the slave of +unwilling memories. He would choose for himself whither they should lead +him; he would fight with all his nerve and will against the unholy +fascination of those few thrilling hours. He looked impatiently towards +the door, and longed for the return of his late companion that he might +continue his half-laughing flirtation. Then he remembered the album still +upon his knee, and opened it quickly. He had dabbled a little in +photography; he would find something here to keep his thoughts from the +forbidden place. And he did indeed find something--something which set +his heart thumping, and drew all the colour, which the sun and vigorous +exercise had brought, from his cheeks; something at which he stared with +wide-open eyes, which he held before him with trembling, nerveless +fingers. The picture of a woman! The picture of her! + +It had lain loose in the book, with its back towards him. Only chance +made him turn it over. As he looked he understood. There was the +likeness, such likeness as there may be between a beautiful woman, a +little sad, a little scornful, with the faint lines of mockery about her +curving lips, the world-weary light in her distant eyes, and the fresh, +ingenuous girl with whom he had been bandying pleasantries during the +last few hours. He had felt it unknowingly. He realized it now, and the +thought of what it might mean made him catch at his breath like a +drowning man. Then she came in. + +He heard her gay laughter outside, a backward word flung to one of the +tennis players, as she stepped in through the window, her cheeks still +flushed, and her eyes aglow. + +"We really ought to watch this set," she declared. "That is, if you are +not too much absorbed in my handiwork. What have you got there?" + +He held it out to her with a valiant attempt at unconcern. + +"Do you mind telling me who this is?" he asked. + +She glanced at it carelessly enough, but at once her whole expression +changed. The smile left her lips, her eyes filled with trouble. + +"Where did you find it?" she asked, in a low tone. + +"In the album," he answered. "It was loose between the pages." + +She took it gently from his fingers, and crossing the room locked it +in her desk. + +"I had no idea that it was here," she said. "It is a picture of my +eldest sister, or rather my step-sister." + +The change in her manner was so apparent that, under ordinary +circumstances, Wrayson would not have dreamed of pursuing the subject. +But the conventions of life seemed to him small things just then. + +"Your step-sister!" he exclaimed. "I had no idea--shall I meet her this +afternoon?" + +"No!" she answered, gravely. "What do you say--shall we go out now?" + +She took up her racket, but he lingered. + +"Please don't think me hopelessly inquisitive, Miss Fitzmaurice," he +said, "but I have really a reason for being very interested in the +original of that picture. I should like to meet your step-sister." + +"You will never do so here, I am afraid," she answered. "My father and +she disagreed years ago. He does not allow us to see or hear from her. We +may not even mention her name." + +"Your father," Wrayson remarked thoughtfully, "is not a stern parent by +any means." + +"I should think not," she answered, smiling. "Dear old dad! I have never +heard him say an unkind word to any one in my life." + +"And yet--" Wrayson began, hesitatingly. + +"Do you mind if we don't talk any more about it?" she interrupted simply. +"I think you can understand that it is not a very pleasant subject. Do +you feel like another set, or would you rather do something else?" + +"Tennis, by all means, if you are rested," he answered. "We will find our +old opponents and challenge them again." + +Wrayson made a supreme effort, and his spirits for the rest of the +afternoon were almost boisterous. Yet all the time the nightmare was +there behind. It crept out whenever he caught sight of his host moving +about amongst his guests, beaming and kindly. His daughter! The Colonel's +daughter! What was he to do? The problem haunted him continually. All the +time he had to be pushing it back. + +The guests began to depart at last. By seven o'clock the last carriage +was rolling down the avenue. The Colonel, with a huge smile of relief, +and a large cigar, came and took Wrayson's arm. + +"Good man!" he exclaimed. "You've worked like a Trojan. We'll have one +whisky and soda, eh? and then I'll show you your room. Say when!" + +"I've enjoyed myself immensely," Wrayson declared. "Miss Edith has been +very kind to me." + +"I'm glad you've made friends with her," the Colonel said. "She's a +harum-scarum lot, I'm afraid, and a sad chatterbox, but she's the right +sort of a person for a man with nerves like you! You're looking a bit +white still, I see!" + +Wrayson would have spoken then, but his tongue seemed to cling to the +roof of his mouth. He had been asked to bring his clothes and dine, and +in the minutes' solitude while he changed, he made a resolute effort to +face this new problem. There was not the slightest doubt in his mind that +the girl whom he had surprised in his rooms, ransacking his desk, and +whom subsequently he had assisted to escape from the Mansions, was +identical with the original of this portrait. She was the Colonel's +daughter. With a flash of horror, he remembered that it had been the +Colonel himself who had pointed out the possibility of a woman's hands +having drawn that silken cord together! Half dressed he sat down in a +chair and buried his face in his hands. + +The dinner gong disturbed him. He sprang up, tied his tie with trembling +fingers, and hastily completed his toilet. Once more, with a great +effort, and an almost reckless resort to his host's champagne, he +triumphed over the demons of memory which racked his brain. At dinner his +gayety was almost feverish. Edith Fitzmaurice, who was his neighbour, +found him a delightful companion. Only the Colonel glanced towards him +now and then anxiously. He recognized the signs of high-pressure, and the +light in Wrayson's eyes puzzled him. + +There were no other men dining, and in course of time the two were left +alone. The Colonel passed the cigars and touched the port wine decanter, +which, however, he only offered in a half-hearted way. + +"If you don't care about any more wine," he said, "we might have a smoke +in the garden." + +Wrayson rose at once. + +"I should like it," he said abruptly. "I don't know how it is, but I seem +half-stifled to-day." + +They passed out into the soft, cool night. A nightingale was singing +somewhere in the elm trees which bordered the garden. The air was sweet +with the perfume of early summer flowers. Wrayson drew a long, deep +breath of content. + +"Let us sit down, Colonel," he said; "I have something to tell you." + +The Colonel led the way to a rustic seat. A few stars were out, but no +moon. In the dusky twilight, the shrubs and trees beyond stood out with +black and almost startling distinctness against the clear sky. + +"You remember the girl--I told you about, whom I found in my flat, and +afterwards?" Wrayson asked hoarsely. + +The Colonel nodded. + +"Certainly! What about her? To tell you the truth, I am afraid I--" + +Wrayson stopped him with a quick, fierce exclamation. + +"Don't, Colonel!" he said. "Wait until you have heard what I have to say. +I have seen her picture--to-day." + +The Colonel removed his cigar from his mouth. + +"Her picture!" he exclaimed. "To-day! Where? My dear fellow, this is very +interesting! You know my opinion as to that young--" + +Again Wrayson stopped him, this time with an oath. + +"In your house, Colonel," he said. "Your daughter showed it to me--in +an album!" + +The Colonel sat like a man turned to stone. The hand which held his cigar +shook so that the ash fell upon his waistcoat. + +"Go on!" he faltered. + +"I asked who it was. I was told that it was your daughter! Miss Edith's +step-sister! Forgive me, Colonel! I had to tell you!" + +The Colonel seemed to have shrunk in his place. The cigar slipped from +his fingers and fell unheeded on to the grass. His mouth trembled and +twitched pitifully. + +"My--my daughter Louise!" he faltered. "Wrayson, you are not serious!" + +"It is God's truth," Wrayson answered. "I would stake my soul upon it +that the girl--I told you about--was the original of that picture! When I +look at your daughter Edith I can see the likeness." + +The Colonel's head was buried in his hands. His exclamation sounded +like a sob. + +"My God!" he murmured. + +Then there was silence. Only the nightingale went on with his song. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE BARONESS INTERVENES + + +The Baroness trifled with some grapes and looked languidly round the +room. + +"My dear Louise," she declared, "it is the truth what every one tells me +of your country. You are a dull people. I weary myself here." + +The girl whom she had addressed as Louise shrugged her shoulders. + +"So do I, so do all of us," she answered, a little wearily. "What would +you have? One must live somewhere." + +The Baroness sighed, and from a chatelaine hung with elegant trifles +selected a gold cigarette case. An attentive waiter rushed for a match +and presented it. The Baroness gave a little sigh of content as she +leaned back in her chair. She smoked as one to the manner born. + +"One must live somewhere, it is true," she agreed, "but why London? I +think that of all great cities it is the most provincial. It lacks what +you call the atmosphere. The people are all so polite, and so deadly, +deadly dull. How different in Paris or Berlin, even Brussels!" + +"Circumstances are a little against us, aren't they?" Louise remarked. +"Our opportunities for making acquaintances are limited." + +The Baroness made a little grimace. + +"You, my young friend," she said, "are of the English--very English. +Quite Saxon, in fact. With you there would never be any making of +acquaintances! I feel myself in the bonds of a cast-iron chaperonage +whenever I move out with you. Why is it, little one? Have you never any +desire to amuse yourself?" + +"I don't quite understand you," her companion answered dryly. "If you +mean that I have no desire to encourage promiscuous acquaintances, you +are certainly right. I prefer to be dull." + +The Baroness sighed gently. + +"Some of my dearest friends," she murmured, "I have--but there, it is a +subject upon which we disagree. We will talk of something else. Shall we +go to the theatre to-night?" + +"As you will," Louise answered indifferently. "There isn't much that we +haven't seen, is there?" + +"We will send for a paper and see," the Baroness said. "We cannot sit and +look at one another all the evening. With music one can make dinner last +out till nine or even half past--an idea, my Louise!" she exclaimed +suddenly. "Cannot we go to a music-hall, the Alhambra, for example? We +could take a box and sit back." + +"It is not customary," Louise declared coldly. "If you really wish it, +though, I don't--I don't--" + +Her speech was broken off in a somewhat extraordinary manner. She was +leaning a little forward in her chair, all her listlessness and pallor +seemed to have been swept away by a sudden rush of emotion. The colour +had flooded her cheeks, her tired eyes were suddenly bright; was it with +fear or only surprise? The Baroness wasted no time in asking questions. +She raised her lorgnettes and turned round, facing the direction in +which Louise was looking. Coming directly towards them from the further +end of the restaurant was a young man, whose eyes never swerved from +their table. He was pale, somewhat slight, but the lines of his mouth +were straight and firm, and there was not lacking in him that air of +distinction which the Baroness never failed to recognize. She put down +her glasses and looked across at Louise with a smile. She was quite +prepared to approve. + +The young man stopped at their table and addressed himself directly to +Louise. The Baroness frowned as she saw how scanty were the signs of +encouragement in her young companion's face. She leaned a little forward, +ready at the first signs of an introduction to make every effort to atone +for Louise's coldness by a most complete amiability. This young man +should not be driven away if she could help it! + +"I have been hoping, Miss Fitzmaurice," Wrayson said calmly, "that I +might meet you somewhere." + +She shrank a little back for a moment. There flashed across her face a +quiver, as though of pain. + +"Why do you think," she asked, "that that is my name?" + +"Your father, Colonel Fitzmaurice, is one of my best friends," he +answered gravely. "I was at his house yesterday. I only came up this +morning. I beg your pardon! You are not well!" + +Every vestige of colour had left her cheeks. The Baroness touched her +foot under the table, and Louise found her voice with an effort. + +"How did you know that Colonel Fitzmaurice was my father?" she asked +breathlessly. + +"I found a picture in your sister's album," he answered. + +The answer seemed somehow to reassure her. She leaned a little towards +him. Under cover of the music her voice was inaudible to any one else. + +"Mr. Wrayson," she said, "please don't think me unkind. I know that I +have a great deal to thank you for, and that there are certain +explanations which you have almost a right to demand from me. And yet I +ask you to go away, to ask me nothing at all, to believe me when I assure +you that there is nothing in the world so undesirable as any acquaintance +between you and me." + +Wrayson was staggered, the words were so earnestly spoken, and the look +which accompanied them was so eloquent. He was never sure, when he +thought it over afterwards, what manner of reply he might not have made +to an appeal, the genuineness of which was absolutely convincing. But +before he could frame an answer, the Baroness intervened. + +"Louise," she said softly, "do you not think that this place is a +little public for intimate conversation, and will you not introduce to +me your friend?" + +Wrayson, who had been afraid of dismissal, turned at once, almost +eagerly, towards the Baroness. She smiled at him graciously. Louise +hesitated for a moment. There was no smile upon her lips. She bowed, +however, to the inevitable. + +"This is Mr. Wrayson," she said quietly; "the Baroness de Sturm." + +The Baroness raised her eyebrows, and she bestowed upon Wrayson a +comprehending look. The graciousness of her manner, however, underwent no +abatement. + +"I fancy," she said, "that I have heard of you somewhere lately, or is +it another of the same name? Will you not sit down and take your coffee +with us--and a cigarette--yes?" + +"We are keeping Mr. Wrayson from his friends, no doubt," Louise said +coldly. "Besides--do you see the time, Amy?" + +But Wrayson had already drawn up a chair to the table. + +"I am quite alone," he said. "If I may stay, I shall be delighted." + +"Why not?" the Baroness asked, passing her cigarette case. "You can solve +for us the problem we were just then discussing. Is it _comme-il-faut,_ +Mr. Wrayson, for two ladies, one of whom is almost middle-aged, to visit +a music-hall here in London unescorted?" + +Wrayson glanced from Louise to her friend. + +"May I inquire," he asked blandly, "which is the lady who is posing as +being almost middle-aged?" + +The Baroness laughed at him softly, with a little contraction of the +eyebrows, which she usually found effective. + +"We are going to be friends, Mr. Wrayson," she declared. "You are +sitting there in fear and trembling, and yet you have dared to pay a +compliment, the first I have heard for, oh! so many months. Do not be +afraid. Louise is not so terrible as she seems. I will not let her send +you away. Now you must answer my question. May we do this terrible +thing, Louise and I?" + +"Assuredly not," he answered gravely, "when there is a man at hand who is +so anxious to offer his escort as I." + +The Baroness clapped her hands. + +"Do you hear, Louise?" she exclaimed. + +"I hear," Louise answered dryly. + +The Baroness made a little grimace. + +"You are in an impossible humour, my dear child," she declared. +"Nevertheless, I declare for the music-hall, and for the escort of your +friend, Mr. Wrayson, if he really is in earnest." + +"I can assure you," he said, "that you would be doing me a great kindness +in allowing me to offer my services." + +The Baroness beamed upon him amiably, and rose to her feet. + +"You have come," she avowed, "in time to save me from despair. I am not +used to go about so much unescorted, and I am not so independent as +Louise. See," she added, pushing a gold purse towards him, "you shall pay +our bill while we put on our cloaks. And will you ask afterwards for my +carriage, and we will meet in the portico?" + +"With pleasure!" Wrayson answered, rising to his feet as they left the +table. "I will telephone for a box to the Alhambra. There is a wonderful +new ballet which every one is going to see." + +He called the waiter and paid the bill from a remarkably well-filled +purse. As he replaced the change, it was impossible for him to avoid +seeing a letter addressed and stamped ready for posting, which occupied +one side of the gold bag. The name upon the envelope struck him as being +vaguely familiar; what had he heard lately of Madame de Melbain? It was +associated somehow in his mind with a recent event. It lingered in his +memory for days afterwards. + +Louise and the Baroness left the room in silence. In the cloak-room the +latter watched her friend curiously as she arranged her wrap. + +"So that is Mr. Wrayson," she remarked. + +"Yes!" Louise answered deliberately. "I wish that you had let him go!" + +The Baroness laughed softly. + +"My dear child," she protested, "why? He seems to me quite a personable +young man, and he may be useful! Who can tell?" + +Louise shrugged her shoulders. She stood waiting while the Baroness made +somewhat extensive use of her powder-puff. + +"You forget," she said quietly, "that I am already in Mr. Wrayson's debt +pretty heavily." + +The Baroness looked quickly around. She considered her young friend a +little indiscreet. + +"I find you amusing, _ma chere_," she remarked. "Since when have you +developed scruples?" + +Louise turned towards the door. + +"You do not understand," she said. "Come!" + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +A BOX AT THE ALHAMBRA + + +The Baroness lowered her lorgnettes and turned towards Wrayson. + +"There is a man," she remarked, "in the stalls, who finds us apparently +more interesting than the performance. I do not see very well even +with my glasses, but I fancy, no! I am quite sure, that his face is +familiar to me." + +Wrayson leaned forward from his seat in the back of the box and looked +downward. There was no mistaking the person indicated by the Baroness, +nor was it possible to doubt his obvious interest in their little party. +Wrayson frowned slightly as he returned his greeting. + +"Ah, then, you know him," the Baroness declared. "It is a friend, +without doubt." + +"He belongs to my club," Wrayson answered. "His name is Heneage. I beg +your pardon! I hope that wasn't my fault." + +The Baroness had dropped her lorgnettes on the floor. She stooped +instantly to discover them, rejecting almost peremptorily Wrayson's aid. +When she sat up again she pushed her chair a little further back. + +"It was my clumsiness entirely," she declared. "Ah! it is more restful +here. The lights are a little trying in front. You are wiser than I, my +dear Louise, to have chosen a seat back there." + +She turned towards the girl as she spoke, and Wrayson fancied that there +was some subtle meaning in the swift glance which passed between the two. +Almost involuntarily he leaned forward once more and looked downwards. +Heneage's inscrutable face was still upturned in their direction. There +was nothing to be read there, not even curiosity. As the eyes of the two +men met, Heneage rose and left his seat. + +"You know my friend, perhaps?" Wrayson remarked. "He is rather an +interesting person." + +The Baroness shrugged her shoulders. + +"We are cosmopolitans, Louise and I," she remarked. "We wander about so +much that we meet many people whose names even we do not remember. Is it +not so, _cherie_?" + +Louise assented carelessly. The incident appeared to have interested her +but slightly. She alone seemed to be taking an interest in the +performance, which from the first she had followed closely. More than +once Wrayson had fancied that her attention was only simulated, in order +to avoid conversation. + +"This ballet," she remarked, "is wonderful. I don't believe that you +people have seen any of it--you especially, Amy." + +The Baroness glanced towards the stage. + +"My dear Louise," she said, "you share one great failing with the +majority of your country-people. You cannot do more than one thing at a +time. Now I can watch and talk. Truly, the dresses are ravishing. +Doucet never conceived anything more delightful than that blend of +greens! Tell me about your mysterious-looking friend, Mr. Wrayson. Is +he, too, an editor?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"To tell you the truth," he said, "I know very little about him. He is +one of those men who seldom talk about themselves. He is a barrister, and +he has written a volume of travels. A clever fellow, I believe, but +possibly without ambition. At any rate, one never hears of his doing +anything now." + +"Perhaps," the Baroness remarked, with her eyes upon the stage, "he is +one of those who keep their own counsel, in more ways than one. He does +not look like a man who has no object in life." + +Wrayson glanced downwards at the empty stall. + +"Very likely," he admitted carelessly, "and yet, nowadays, it is a little +difficult, isn't it, to do anything really worth doing, and not be found +out? They say that the press is lynx-eyed." + +Louise leaned a little forward in her chair. + +"And you," she remarked, "are an editor! Do you feel quite safe, Amy? Mr. +Wrayson may rob us of our most cherished secrets." + +Her eyes challenged his, her lips were parted in a slight smile. +Underneath the levity of her remark, he was fully conscious of the +undernote of serious meaning. + +"I am not afraid of Mr. Wrayson," the Baroness answered, smiling. "My age +and my dressmaker are the only two things I keep entirely to myself, and +I don't think he is likely to guess either." + +"And you?" he asked, looking into her companion's eyes. + +"There are many things," she answered, in a low tone, "which one keeps +to oneself, because confidences with regard to them are impossible. +And yet--" + +She paused. Her eyes seemed to be following out the mystic design painted +upon her fan. + +"And yet?" he reminded her under his breath. + +"Yet," she continued, glancing towards the Baroness, and lowering her +voice as though anxious not to be overheard, "there is something +poisonous, I think, about secrets. To have them known without disclosing +them would be very often--a great relief." + +He leaned a little towards her. + +"Is that a challenge?" he asked, "if I can find out?" + +The colour left her face with amazing suddenness. She drew away from him +quickly. Her whisper was almost a moan. + +"No! for God's sake, no!" she murmured. "I meant nothing. You must not +think that I was speaking about myself." + +"I hoped that you were," he answered simply. + +The Baroness turned in her chair as though anxious to join in the +conversation. At that moment came a knock at the door of the box. Wrayson +rose and opened it. Heneage stood there and entered at once, as though +his coming were the most natural thing in the world. + +"Thought I recognized you," he remarked, shaking hands with Wrayson. "I +believe, too, I may be mistaken, but I fancy that I have had the pleasure +of meeting the Baroness de Sturm." + +The Baroness turned towards him with a smile. Nevertheless, Wrayson +noticed what seemed to him a strange thing. The slim-fingered, bejewelled +hand which rested upon the ledge of the box was trembling. The Baroness +was disturbed. + +"At Brussels, I believe," she remarked, inclining her head graciously. + +"At Brussels, certainly," he answered, bowing low. + +She turned to Louise. + +"Louise," she said, "you must let me present Mr. Heneage--Miss Deveney. +Mr. Heneage has a cousin, I believe, of the same name, in the Belgian +Legation. I remember seeing you dance with him at the Palace." + +The two exchanged greetings. Heneage accepted a chair and spoke of the +performance. The conversation became general and of stereotyped form. Yet +Wrayson was uneasily conscious of something underneath it all which he +could not fathom. The atmosphere of the box was charged with some +electrical disturbance. Heneage alone seemed thoroughly at his ease. He +kept his seat until the close of the performance, and even then seemed in +no hurry to depart. Wrayson, however, took his cue from the Baroness, who +was obviously anxious for him to go. + +"Goodnight, Heneage!" he said. "I may see you at the club later." + +Heneage smiled a little oddly as he turned away. + +"Perhaps," he said. + +It was not until they were on their way out that Wrayson realized that +she was slipping away from him once more. Then he took his courage into +his hands and spoke boldly. + +"I wonder," he said, "if I might be allowed to see you ladies home. I +have something to say to Miss Fitzmaurice," he added simply, turning to +the Baroness. + +"By all means," she answered graciously, "if you don't mind rather an +uncomfortable seat. We are staying in Battersea. It seems a long way out, +but it is quiet, and Louise and I like it." + +"In Battersea?" Wrayson repeated vaguely. + +The Baroness looked over her shoulder. They were standing on the +pavement, waiting for their electric brougham. + +"Yes!" she answered, dropping her voice a little, "in Frederic Mansions. +By the bye, we are neighbours, I believe, are we not?" + +"Quite close ones," Wrayson answered. "I live in the next block of +flats." + +The Baroness looked again over her shoulder. + +"Your friend, Mr. Heneage, is close behind," she whispered, "and we are +living so quietly, Louise and I, that we do not care for callers. Tell +the man 'home' simply." + +Wrayson obeyed, and the carriage glided off. Heneage had been within a +few feet of them when they had started, and although his attention +appeared to be elsewhere, the Baroness' caution was obviously justified. +She leaned back amongst the cushions with a little sigh of relief. + +"Mr. Wrayson," she inquired, "may I ask if Mr. Heneage is a particular +friend of yours?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I do not think that any man could call himself Heneage's particular +friend," he answered. "He is exceedingly reticent about himself and his +doings. He is a man whom none of us know much of." + +The Baroness leaned a little forward. + +"Mr. Heneage," she said slowly, "is associated in my mind with days and +events which, just at present, both Louise and I are only anxious to +forget. He may be everything that he should be. Perhaps I am +prejudiced. But if I were you, I would have as little to do as possible +with that man." + +"We do not often meet," Wrayson answered, "and ours is only a club +acquaintanceship. It is never likely to be more." + +"So much the better," the Baroness declared. "Don't you agree with +me, Louise?" + +"I do not like Mr. Heneage," the girl answered. "But then, I have never +spoken a dozen words to him in my life." + +"You have known him intimately?" Wrayson asked the Baroness. + +She shrugged her shoulders and looked out of the window. + +"Never that, quite," she answered. "I know enough of him, however, to be +quite sure that the advice which I have given you is good." + +The carriage drew up in the Albert Road, within a hundred yards or so of +Wrayson's own block of flats. The Baroness alighted first. + +"You must come in and have a whisky and soda," she said to Wrayson. + +"If I may," he answered, looking at Louise. + +The Baroness passed on. Louise, with a slight shrug of the shoulders, +followed her. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +OUTCAST + + +The room into which a waiting man servant showed them was large and +handsomely furnished. Whisky and soda, wine and sandwiches were upon the +sideboard. The Baroness, stopping only to light a cigarette, moved +towards the door. + +"I shall return," she said, "in a quarter of an hour." + +She looked for a moment steadily at her friend, and then turned away. +Louise strolled to the sideboard and helped herself to a sandwich. + +"Come and forage, won't you?" she asked carelessly. "There are some +_pate_ sandwiches here, and you want whisky and soda, of course--or do +you prefer brandy?" + +"Neither, thanks!" Wrayson answered firmly. "I want what I came for. +Please sit down here and answer my questions." + +She laughed a little mockingly, and turning round, faced him, her head +thrown back, her eyes meeting his unflinchingly. The light from a +rose-shaded electric lamp glittered upon her hair. She was wearing black +again, and something in her appearance and attitude almost took his +breath away. It reminded him of the moment when he had seen her first. + +"First," she said, "I am going to ask you a question. Why did you do it?" + +"Do what?" he asked. + +She gave vent to a little gesture of impatience. He must know quite well +what she meant. + +"Why did you give evidence at the inquest and omit all mention of me?" + +"I don't know," he answered bluntly. + +"You have committed yourself to a story," she reminded him, "which is +certainly not altogether a truthful one. You have run a great risk, +apparently to shield me. Why?" + +"I suppose because I am a fool," he answered bitterly. + +She shook her head. + +"No!" she declared, "that is not the reason." + +He moved a step nearer to her. + +"If I were to admit my folly," he said, "what difference would it +make--if I were to tell you that I did it to save you--the inconvenience +of an examination into the motive for your presence in Morris Barnes' +rooms that night--what then?" + +"It was generous of you," she declared softly. "I ought to thank you." + +"I want no thanks," he answered, almost roughly. "I want to know that I +was justified in what I did. I want you to tell me what you were doing +there alone in the rooms of such a man, with a stolen key. And I want you +to tell me what you know about his death." + +"Is that all?" she asked. + +"Isn't it enough?" he declared savagely. "It is enough to be making an +old man of me, anyhow." + +"You have a right to ask these questions," she admitted slowly, "and I +have no right to refuse to answer them." + +"None at all," he declared. "You shall answer them." + +There was a moment's silence. She leaned a little further back against +the sideboard. Her eyes were fixed upon his, but her face was +inscrutable. + +"I cannot," she said slowly. "I can tell you nothing." + +Wrayson was speechless for a moment. It was not only the words +themselves, but the note of absolute finality with which they were +uttered, which staggered him. Then he found himself laughing, a sound +so unnatural and ominous that, for the first time, fear shone in the +girl's eyes. + +"Don't," she cried, and her hands flashed towards him for a moment +as though the sight of him hurt her. "Don't be angry! Have pity on +me instead." + +His nerves, already overwrought, gave way. + +"Pity on a murderess, a thief!" he cried. "Not I! I have suffered enough +for my folly. I will go and tell the truth to-morrow. It was you who +killed him. You did it in the cab and stole back to his rooms to +rob--afterwards. Horrible! Horrible!" + +Her face hardened. His lack of self-control seemed to stimulate her. + +"Have it so," she declared. "I never asked you for your silence. If you +repent it, go and make the best bargain you can with the law. They will +let you off cheaply in exchange for your information!" + +He walked the length of the room and back. Anything to escape from her +eyes. Already he hated the words which he had spoken. When he faced her +again he was master of himself. + +"Listen," he said; "I was a little overwrought. I spoke wildly. I have no +right to make such an accusation. But--" + +She held out her hand as though to stop him, but he went steadily on. + +"But I have a right to demand that you tell me the truth as to what you +were doing in Barnes' rooms that night, and what you know of his death. +Remember that but for me you would have had to tell your story to a less +sympathetic audience." + +"I never forget it," she answered, and for the first time her change to a +more natural tone helped him to believe in himself and his own judgment. +"If you want me to tell you how grateful I am, I might try, but it would +be a very hard task." + +"All that I ask of you," he pleaded, "is that you tell me enough to +convince me that my silence was justified. Tell me at least that you had +no knowledge of or share in that man's death!" + +"I cannot do that," she answered. + +He took a quick step backwards. The horror once more was chilling his +blood, floating before his eyes. + +"You cannot!" he repeated hoarsely. + +"No! I knew that the man was in danger of his life," she went on, calmly. +"On the whole, I think that he deserved to die. I do not mind telling you +this, though. I would have saved him if I could." + +He drew a great breath of relief. + +"You had nothing to do with his actual death, then?" + +"Nothing whatever," she declared. + +"It was all I asked you, this," he cried reproachfully. "Why could you +not have told me before?" + +She shook her head. + +"You asked me other things," she answered calmly. "So much of the truth +you shall know, at any rate. I have pleaded not guilty to the material +action of drawing that cord around the worthless neck of the man whom you +knew as Morris Barnes. I plead guilty to knowing why he was murdered, +even if I do not know the actual person who committed the deed, and I +admit that I was in his rooms for the purpose of robbery. That is all I +can tell you." + +He drew a little nearer to her. + +"Enough! Do you know what it is that you have said? What are you? +Who are you?" + +She shrugged her shoulders. Somehow, from her side at least, the tragical +note which had trembled throughout their interview had passed away. She +helped herself to soda water from a siphon on the sideboard. + +"You appear, somewhat to my surprise," she remarked, "to know that. I +wonder at poor little Edith giving me away." + +"All that I know is that you are living here under a false name," +he declared. + +She shook her head. + +"My mother's," she told him. "The discarded daughter always has a right +to that, you know." + +Her eyes mocked him. He felt himself helpless. This was the opportunity +for which he had longed, and it had come to him in vain. He recognized +the fact that his defeat was imminent. She was too strong for him. + +"I am disappointed," he said, a little wearily. "You will not let me +believe in you." + +"Why should you wish to?" she asked quickly + +Almost immediately she bit her lip, as though she regretted the words, +which had escaped her almost involuntarily. But he was ready enough with +his answer. + +"I cannot tell you that," he said gravely. "I never thought of myself as +a particularly emotional person. In fact, I have always rather prided +myself on my common sense. That night I think that I went a little mad. +Your appearance, you see, was so unusual." + +She nodded. + +"I must have been rather a shock to you," she admitted. + +She watched him closely. The fire in his eyes was not yet quenched. + +"Yes!" he said, "you were a shock. And the worst of it is--that you +remain one!" + +"Ah!" + +"You mean to keep me at arm's length," he said slowly, "to tell me as +little as possible, and get rid of me. I am not sure that I am willing." + +She only raised her eyebrows. She said nothing. + +"You have told me nothing of the things I want to know," he cried +passionately. "Who and what are you? What place do you hold in the +world?" + +"None," she answered quietly. "I am an outcast." + +He glanced around him. + +"You are rich!" + +"On the contrary," she assured him, "I am nearly a pauper." + +"How do you live, then?" he asked breathlessly. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"Why do you ask me these questions?" she said. "I cannot answer them. +Whatever my life may be, I live it to myself." + +He leaned a little towards her. His breath was coming quickly, and she, +too, caught something of the nervous excitement of his manner. + +"There are better things," he began. + +"Not for me," she interrupted quickly. "I tell you that I am an +outcast. Of you, I ask only that you go away--now--before the Baroness +returns, and do your best to blot out the memory of that one night +from your life. Remember only that you did a generous action. Remember +that, and no more." + +"Too late," he answered; "I cannot do it." + +"You are a man," she answered, "and you say that?" + +"It is because I am a man, and you are what you are, that I cannot," he +answered slowly. + +There was a moment's breathless silence. Only he fancied that her face +had somehow grown softer. + +"You must not talk like that," she said. "You do not know what you are +saying--who or what I am. Listen! I think I hear the Baroness." + +She leaned a little forward, and the madness fired his blood. Half +stupefied, she yielded to his embrace, her lips rested upon his, her +frightened eyes were half closed. His arms held her like a vice, he could +feel her heart throbbing madly against his. How long they remained like +it he never knew--who can measure the hours spent in Paradise! She flung +him from her at last, taking him by surprise with a sudden burst of +energy, and before he could stop her she had left the room. In her place, +the Baroness was standing upon the threshold, dressed in a wonderful blue +wrapper, and with a cigarette between her teeth. She burst into a little +peal of laughter as she looked into his distraught face. + +"For an Englishman," she remarked, "you are a little rapid in your +love affairs, my dear Mr. Wrayson, is it not so? So she has left you +_plante la_!" + +"I--was mad," Wrayson muttered. + +The Baroness helped herself to whisky and soda. + +"Come again and make your peace, my friend," she said. "You will see no +more of her to-night." + +Wrayson accepted the hint and went. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +FALSE SENTIMENT + + +With his nerves strung to their utmost point of tension Wrayson walked +homeward with the unseeing eyes and mechanical footsteps of a man unable +as yet fully to collect his scattered senses. But for him the events of +the evening were not yet over. He had no sooner turned the key in the +latch of his door and entered his sitting-room, than he became aware of +the fact that he had a visitor. The air was fragrant with tobacco smoke; +a man rose deliberately from the easy-chair, and, throwing the ash from +his cigarette into the fire, turned to greet him. Wrayson was so +astonished that he could only gasp out his name. + +"Heneage!" he exclaimed. + +Heneage nodded. Of the two, he was by far the more at his ease. + +"I wanted to see you, Wrayson," he said, "and I persuaded your +housekeeper--with some difficulty--to let me wait for your arrival. Can +you spare me a few minutes?" + +"Of course," Wrayson answered. "Sit down. Will you have anything?" + +Heneage shook his head. + +"Not just now, thanks!" + +Wrayson took off his hat and coat, threw them upon the table, and lit a +cigarette. + +"Well," he said, "what is it?" + +"I have come," Heneage said quietly, "to offer you some very good +advice. You are run down, and you look it. You need a change. I should +recommend a sea voyage, the longer the better. They say that your paper +is making a lot of money. Why not a voyage round the world?" + +"What the devil do you mean?" Wrayson asked. + +Heneage flicked off the ash from his cigarette, and looked for a moment +thoughtfully into the fire. + +"Three weeks ago last Thursday, I think it was," he began, reflectively, +"I had supper with Austin at the Green Room Club, after the theatre. He +persuaded me, rather against my will, I remember, for I was tired that +night, to go home with him and make a fourth at bridge. Austin's flat, as +you know, is just below here, on the Albert Road." + +Wrayson stopped smoking. The cigarette burned unheeded between his +fingers. His eyes were fixed upon his visitor. + +"Go on," he said. + +"We played five rubbers," Heneage continued, still looking into the fire; +"it may have been six. I left somewhere in the small hours of the +morning, and walked along the Albert Road on the unlit side of the +street. As I passed the corner here, I saw a hansom waiting before your +door, and you--with somebody else, standing on the pavement." + +"Anything else?" Wrayson demanded. + +"No!" Heneage answered. "I saw you, I saw the lady, and I saw the cab. +It was a cold morning, and I am not naturally a curious person. I +hurried on." + +Wrayson picked up the cigarette, which had fallen from his fingers, and +sat down. He could scarcely believe that this was not a dream--that it +was indeed Stephen Heneage who sat opposite to him, Heneage the +impenetrable, whose calm, measured words left no indication whatever as +to his motive in making this amazing revelation. + +"You are naturally wondering," Heneage continued, "why, having seen what +I did see, I kept silence. I followed your lead, because I fancied, in +the first place, that the presence of that young lady was a personal +affair of your own, and that she could have no possible connection with +the tragedy itself. You were evidently disposed to shield her and +yourself at the same time. I considered your attitude reasonable, if a +little dangerous. No man is obliged to give himself away in matters of +this sort, and I am no scandalmonger. The situation, however, has +undergone a change." + +Wrayson looked up quickly. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +"To-night," Heneage said calmly, "I recognized your nocturnal visitor +with the Baroness de Sturm. + +"And what of that?" Wrayson demanded. + +Heneage, who was leaning back in his chair, looking into the fire with +half closed eyes, straightened himself, and turned directly towards his +companion. + +"How much do you know about the Baroness de Sturm?" he asked. + +"Nothing at all," Wrayson answered. "I met her for the first time +to-night." + +Heneage looked back into the fire. + +"Ah!" he murmured. "I thought that it might be so. The young lady is +perhaps an old friend?" + +"I cannot discuss her," Wrayson answered. "I can only say that I will +answer for her innocence as regards any complicity in the murder of +Morris Barnes." + +Heneage nodded sympathetically. + +"Still," he remarked, "the man was murdered." + +"I suppose so," Wrayson admitted. + +"And in a most mysterious manner," Heneage continued. "You have gathered, +I dare say, from your knowledge of me, that these affairs always interest +me immensely. I am almost as great a crank as the Colonel. I have been +thinking over this case a great deal, but I must confess that up to +to-night I have not been able to see a gleam of daylight. I had dismissed +the young lady from my mind. Now, however, I cannot do so." + +"Simply because you saw her with the Baroness de Sturm?" Wrayson asked. + +"They are living together," Heneage reminded him, "a condition which +naturally makes for a certain amount of intimacy." + +"Do you know anything against the Baroness?" Wrayson demanded. + +"Against her?" Heneage repeated thoughtfully. "Well, that depends." + +"Do you mean to insinuate that she is an adventuress?" Wrayson +asked bluntly. + +"Certainly not," Heneage replied. "She is a representative of one of the +oldest families in Europe, a _persona grata_ at the Court of her country, +and an intimate friend of Queen Helena's. She is by no means an +adventuress." + +"Then why," Wrayson asked, "should you attach such significance to the +fact of her friendship with Miss Deveney?" + +"Because," Heneage remarked, lighting another cigarette, "I happen to +know that the Baroness is at present under the strictest police +surveillance!" + +Wrayson started. Heneage's first statement had reassured him: his later +one was simply terrifying. He stared at his visitor in dumb alarm. + +"I came to know of this in rather a curious way," Heneage continued. "My +information, in fact, came direct from her own country. She is being +watched with extraordinary care, in connection with some affair of which +I must confess that I know nothing. She is staying in London, a city +which I happen to know she detests, without any ostensible reason. Of all +parts, she has chosen Battersea as a place of residence. It is her +companion whom I saw leaving your flat at three o'clock on the morning of +Barnes' murder. I am bound to say, Wrayson, that I find these facts +interesting." + +"Why have you come to me?" Wrayson asked. "What are you going to do +about them?" + +"I am going to set myself the task of solving the mystery of Morris +Barnes' death," Heneage answered calmly. "If I succeed, I am very much +afraid that, directly or indirectly, the presence of Miss Deveney in the +flats that night will become known." + +"And you advise me, therefore," Wrayson remarked, "to take a voyage--in +plain words, to clear out." + +"Exactly," Heneage agreed. + +Wrayson threw his cigarette angrily into the fire. + +"What the devil business is it of yours?" he demanded. + +Heneage looked at him steadily. + +"Wrayson," he said, "I am sorry that you should use that tone with me. I +am no moralist. I admit frankly that I take this matter up because my +personal tastes prompt me to. But murder, however great the provocation, +is an indefensible thing." + +"I am not seeking to justify it," Wrayson declared. + +"I am glad to hear that," Heneage answered. "I cannot believe, either, +that you would shield any one directly or indirectly connected with such +a crime. I am going to ask you, therefore, to tell me what Miss Deveney +was doing in these flats on that particular evening." + +Wrayson was silent. In the light of what he had just been told about the +Baroness, he knew very well how Heneage would regard the truth. Of +course, she was innocent, innocent of the deed itself and of all +knowledge of it. But Heneage did not know her; he would be hard to +convince. So Wrayson shook his head. + +"I can tell you nothing," he said. "I admit frankly my sympathies are not +with you. I should not say a word likely to bring even inconvenience upon +Miss Deveney." + +"Dare you tell me," Heneage asked calmly, "that her visit was to you? +No! I thought not," he added, as Wrayson remained silent. "I believe +that that young lady could solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' death, if +she chose." + +Then Wrayson had an idea. At any rate, the disclosure would do no harm. + +"Do you know who Miss Deveney is?" he asked. + +Heneage looked across at him quickly. + +"Do you?" + +"Yes! She is the eldest daughter of the Colonel!" + +"Our Colonel?" Heneage exclaimed. + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Her real name is Miss Fitzmaurice," he said. "Her mother's name +was Deveney." + +Heneage looked incredulous. + +"Are you sure about this?" he asked. + +"Absolutely," Wrayson answered. "I saw her picture the day of the garden +party, and I recognized her at once. There is no doubt about it +whatever. She and the Baroness were schoolfellows in Brussels. There is +no mystery about their friendship at all." + +Heneage was thoughtful for several moments. + +"This is interesting," he said at last, "but it does not, of course, +affect the situation." + +"You mean that you will go on just the same?" Wrayson demanded. + +"Certainly! And it rests with you to say whether you will be on my side +or theirs," Heneage declared. "If you are on mine, you will tell me what +Miss Deveney was doing in these flats on that night of all others. If you +are on theirs, you will go and warn them that I am determined to solve +the mystery of Morris Barnes' death--at all costs." + +"I had no idea," Wrayson remarked quietly, "that you were ambitious to +shine as an amateur policeman." + +"We all have our hobbies," Heneage answered. "Take the Colonel, for +instance, the most harmless, the most good-natured man who ever lived. +Nothing in the world fascinates him so much as the details of a tragedy +like this, however gruesome they may be. I have seen him handle a +murderer's knife as though he loved it. His favourite museum is the +professional Chamber of Horrors in Scotland Yard. My own interests run in +a slightly different direction. I like to look at an affair of this sort +as a chess problem, and to set myself to solve it. I like to make a +silent study of all the characters around, to search for motives and +dissect evidence. Human nature has its secrets, and very wonderful +secrets too." + +"I once," Wrayson said thoughtfully, "saw a man tracked down by +bloodhounds. My sympathies were with the man." + +Heneage nodded. + +"Your view of life," he remarked, "was always a sentimental one." + +"No correct view," Wrayson declared, "can ignore sentiment." + +"Granted; but it must be true sentiment, not false," Heneage said. "This +sentiment which interferes with justice is false sentiment." + +"Justice is altogether an arbitrary, a relative phrase," Wrayson +declared. "I know no more about the case of Morris Barnes than you do. I +knew the man by sight and repute, and I knew the manner of his life, and +it seems to me a likely thing that there is more human justice about his +death than in the punishing the person who compassed it." + +"There are cases of that sort," Heneage admitted. "That is the advantage +of being an amateur, like myself. My discoveries, if I make any, are my +own. I am not bound to publish them." + +Wrayson smiled a little bitterly. + +"You would be less than human if you didn't," he said. + +Heneage rose to his feet and began putting on his coat. Wrayson remained +in his seat, without offering to help him. + +"So I may take it, I suppose," he said, as he moved towards the door, +"that my visit to you is a failure?" + +"I have not the slightest idea of running away, if that is what you +mean," Wrayson answered. "I am obliged to you for your warning, but what +I did I am prepared to stand by." + +"I am sorry," Heneage answered. "Good night!" + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +TIDINGS FROM THE CAPE + + +Wrayson paused for a moment in his work to answer the telephone which +stood upon his table. + +"What is it?" he asked sharply. + +His manager spoke to him from the offices below. + +"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but there is a young man here who won't go +away without seeing you. His name is Barnes, and he says that he has just +arrived from South Africa." + +It was a busy morning with Wrayson, for in an hour or so the paper went +to press, but he did not hesitate for a moment. + +"I will see him," he declared. "Bring him up yourself." + +Wrayson laid down the telephone. Morris Barnes had come from South +Africa. It was a common name enough, and yet, from the first, he was sure +that this was some relative. What was the object of his visit? The ideas +chased one another through his brain. Was he, too, an avenger? + +There was a knock at the door, and the clerk from downstairs ushered in +his visitor. Wrayson could scarcely repress a start. It was a younger +edition of Morris Barnes who stood there, with an ingratiating smile upon +his pale face, a trifle more Semitic in appearance, perhaps, but in other +respects the likeness was almost startling. It extended even to the +clothes, for Wrayson recognized with a start a purple and white tie of +particularly loud pattern. The cut of his coat, the glossiness of his hat +and boots, too, were all strikingly reminiscent of the dead man. + +His visitor was becoming nervous under Wrayson's close scrutiny. His +manner betrayed a curious mixture of diffidence and assurance. He seemed +overanxious to create a favourable impression. + +"I took the liberty of coming to see you, Mr. Wrayson," he said, twisting +his hat round in his hand. "My name is Barnes, Sydney Barnes. Morris +Barnes was my brother." + +Wrayson pointed to a chair, into which his visitor subsided with +exaggerated expressions of gratitude. He had very small black eyes, set +very close together, and he blinked continually. The more Wrayson studied +him, the less prepossessing he found him. + +"What can I do for you, Mr. Barnes?" he asked quietly. + +"I have just come from Cape Town," the young man said. "Such a shock it +was to me--about my poor brother! Oh! such a shock!" + +"How did you hear about it?" Wrayson asked. + +"Just a newspaper--I read an account of it all. It did give me a turn and +no mistake. Directly I'd finished, I went and booked my passage on the +_Dunottar Castle._ I had a very fair berth over there--two quid a week, +but I felt I must come home at once. Fact is," he continued, looking down +at his trousers, "I had no time to get my own togs together. I was so +anxious, you see. That's why I'm wearing some of poor Morris's." + +"Are you the only relative?" Wrayson asked. + +"'Pon my sam, I am," the other answered with emphasis. "We hadn't a +relation in the world. Father and mother died ten years ago, and Morris +and I were the only two. Anything that poor Morris possessed belongs to +me, sure! There's no one else to claim a farthing's worth. You must know +that yourself, Mr. Wrayson, eh?" + +"If, as you say, you are the only relative, your brother's effects, of +course, belong to you," Wrayson answered. + +"It's a sure thing," the young man declared. "I've been to the landlord +of the flat, and he gave me up the keys at once. There's only one +quarter's rent owing. Pretty stiff though--isn't it? Fifty pounds!" + +"Your brother's was a furnished flat, I believe," Wrayson answered. "That +makes a difference, of course." + +The young man's face fell. + +"Then the furniture wasn't his?" he remarked. + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"No! the furniture belongs to the landlord. There will be an inventory, +of course, and you will be able to find out if anything was your +brother's." + +It was obvious that Mr. Sydney Barnes had not as yet entered upon the +purpose of his visit. He fidgeted for a moment or two with his hat, and +looked up at Wrayson, only to look nervously away again. To set him more +at his ease, Wrayson lit a cigarette and passed the box over. + +"Thank you, Mr. Wrayson! Thank you, sir!" his visitor exclaimed. "You +see I'm a smoker," he added, holding up his yellow-stained forefinger. +"That is, I smoke when I can afford to. Things have been pretty dicky +out in South Africa lately, you know. Terrible hard it has been to make +a living." + +"Your brother was supposed to have done pretty well out there," Wrayson +remarked, more for the sake of keeping the conversation alive than +anything. The effect of his words, however, was electrical. Mr. Sydney +Barnes leaned over from his chair, and his little black eyes twinkled +like polished beads. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he declared, "a week before he sailed for England, Morris +was on his uppers! He was caught in Johannesburg when the war broke out, +and he had to stay there. When he turned up in Cape Town again, his own +mother wouldn't have known him. He was in rags--he'd come down on a +freight--he hadn't a scrap of luggage, or a copper to his name. That was +Morris when he came to me in Cape Town!" + +Wrayson was listening attentively; he almost feared to let his visitor +see how interested he was. + +"He was fair done in!" the young man continued. "He never had the pluck +of a chicken, and the night he found me in Cape Town he cried like a +baby. He had lost everything, he said. It was no use staying in the +country any longer. He was wild to get back to England. And yet, do you +know, sir, all the time I had the idea that he was keeping something back +from me. And he was! He was, too! The--!" + +He stopped short. The vindictiveness of his countenance supplied +the epithet. + +"You'll excuse me if I'm a bit excited, Mr. Wrayson," he continued. "I'll +leave you to judge how I've been served when you hear all. He got over +me, and I lent him nearly half of my savings, and he started back to +England. He took this flat at two hundred pounds a year the very week he +got back, and he's lived, from what I can hear, like a lord ever since. +Will you believe this, sir! He sent back the money he borrowed from me a +quid at a time, and wrote me to say he was saving it with great +difficulty--out of his salary of three pounds a week. When he'd paid back +the lot, I never heard another line from him. I was doing rotten myself, +and he knew well enough that I should have been over first steamer if I'd +known about his two hundred a year flat, and all the rest of it. What do +you think of my brother, sir, eh? What do you think of him? Treated me +nicely, didn't he? Nine pounds ten it was I lent him, and nine pounds ten +was all I had back, and here he was living like a duke, and lying to me +about his three pounds a week; and there was I hawkering groceries on a +barrow, selling sham diamonds, any blooming thing to get a mouthful to +eat. Nice sort of brother that, eh? What?" + +Wrayson repressed an inclination to smile. There was something grimly +humourous about his visitor's indignation. + +"You must remember," he said, "that your brother is dead, and that his +death itself was a terrible one. Besides, even if you have had to wait +for a little time, you are his heir now." + +The young man was breathing hard. The perspiration stood out in little +beads upon his forehead. He showed his teeth a little. He was becoming +more and more unpleasant to look upon as his excitement increased. + +"Look here, Mr. Wrayson!" he exclaimed. "I'm coming to that. I've been +through his things. Clothes! I never saw such a collection. All from a +West End tailor, too! And boots! Patent, with white tops; pumps, +everything slap up! Heaven knows what he must have spent upon his +clothes. Bills from restaurants, too; why, he seems to have thought +nothing of spending a quid or two on a dinner or a supper. Photographs +of ladies, little notes asking him to tea; why, between you and me, Mr. +Wrayson, sir, he was living like a prince! And look here!" + +He rose to his feet and planked down a bank-book on the desk in front +of Wrayson. + +"Look here, sir," he declared. "Every three months, within a day or two, +cash--five hundred pounds. Here you are. Here's the last: March +27--cash, L500! Look back! January 1--By cash L500! October 2--cash, +L500! There you are, right back to the very day he arrived in England. +And he left South Africa with ten bob of mine in his pocket, after he'd +paid his passage! and from what I can hear, he never did a day's work +after he landed. And me over there working thirteen and fourteen hours a +day, and half the time stony-broke! There's a brother for you! Cain was +a fool to him!" + +"But you must remember that after all you are going to reap the benefit +of it now," Wrayson remarked. + +"Ah! but am I?" the young man exclaimed fiercely. "That's what I want to +know. Look here! I've been through every letter and every scrap of paper +I can find, I've been to the bank and to his few pals, and strike me dead +if I can find where that five hundred pounds came from every three +months! It was in gold always; he must have gone and changed it +somewhere--five hundred golden sovereigns every three months, and I can't +find where they came from!" + +"Have you been to a solicitor?" Wrayson asked. + +"Not yet," the young man answered. "I don't see what good he'll be when I +do. Morris was always one of the close sort, and I can't fancy him +spending much over lawyers." + +"What made you come to me?" Wrayson inquired. + +"Well, the caretaker at the flat told me that you and Morris used to +speak now and then, and I'm trying every one. I'm afraid he wasn't quite +classy enough for you to have palled up with, but I thought he might have +let something slip perhaps." + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"He never spoke to me of his affairs," he said. "He always seemed to have +plenty of money, though." + +"Doesn't the bank-book prove it?" the young man exclaimed excitedly. +"Every one who knew anything about him says the same. There was I half +starved in Cape Town, and here was he spending two thousand a year. +Beast, he was! I'll find out where it came from if it takes me a +lifetime." + +Wrayson leaned back in his chair. Nothing since the events of that night +itself had appealed to him more than the coming of this young man and his +strange story. + +"I am sorry that I have no information to give you," he said. "On the +other hand, if I can help you in any other way I shall be very glad." + +"What should you advise me to do?" the young man asked. + +"I should like to think the matter over carefully," Wrayson answered. +"What are your engagements for to-day? Can you lunch with me?" + +"I have no engagements," his visitor answered eagerly. "When and +what time?" + +Wrayson repressed a smile. + +"I shall be ready in twenty minutes," he answered. "We will go out +together if you don't mind waiting." + +"I'm on," Mr. Sydney Barnes declared, crossing his legs. "Don't you hurry +on my account. I'll wait as long as you like." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SEARCHING THE CHAMBERS + + +Wrayson took his guest to a popular restaurant, where there was music and +a five-course luncheon for three and six. Their conversation during the +earlier part of the meal was limited, for Mr. Sydney Barnes showed +himself possessed of an appetite which his host contemplated with +respectful admiration. His sallow cheeks became flushed and his +nervousness had subsided, long before the arrival of the coffee. + +"I say, this is all right, this place is," he said, leaning back in his +chair with a large cigar between his teeth. "Jolly expensive, I suppose, +isn't it?" + +Wrayson smiled. + +"It depends," he answered. "I don't suppose your brother would have found +it so. A bachelor can do himself pretty well on two thousand a year." + +"I only hope I get hold of it," Mr. Sydney Barnes declared fervently. +"This is the way I should like to live, this is." + +"I hope you will," Wrayson answered. "An income of that sort could +scarcely disappear into thin air, could it? By the bye, Mr. Barnes, that +reminds me of a very important circumstance which, up to now, we have not +mentioned. I mean the way your brother met with his death." + +The young man nodded thoughtfully. + +"Ah!" he remarked, "he was murdered, wasn't he? Some one must have owed +him a nasty grudge. Morris always was a one to make enemies." + +"I don't know whether the same thing has occurred to you," Wrayson +continued, "but I can't help wondering whether there may not have been +some connection between his death and that mysterious income of his." + +"I've thought of that myself," the young man declared. "All the same, +I can't see what he could have carried about with him worth two +thousand a year." + +"Exactly," Wrayson answered, "but you see the matter stands like this. He +was in receipt of about L500 every three months, as his bank-book proves. +This sum would represent five per cent interest on forty thousand pounds. +Now, considering your brother's position when he left you at Cape Town, +and the fact that you cannot discover at his bankers or elsewhere any +documents alluding to property or shares of any sort, one can scarcely +help dismissing the hypothesis that this payment was the result of +dividends or interest. At any rate, let us put that out of the question +for the moment. Your brother received five hundred pounds every three +months from some one. People don't give money away for nothing nowadays, +you know. From whom and for what services did he receive that money?" + +Mr. Sydney Barnes looked puzzled. + +"Ask me another," he remarked facetiously. + +"You do not know of any secrets, I suppose, which your brother may have +stumbled into possession of?" + +"Not I! He went about with his eyes open and his mouth closed, but I +never heard of his having that sort of luck." + +"He could not have had any adventures on the steamer, for he came back +steerage," Wrayson continued thoughtfully, "and he was in funds almost +from the moment he landed in England. I am afraid, Mr. Barnes, that he +must have been deceiving you in Cape Town." + +"If I could only have a dozen words with him!" the young man +muttered savagely. + +"It would be useful," Wrayson admitted, "but, unfortunately, it is out of +the question. Either he was deceiving you, or he was in possession of +something which turned out far more valuable than he had imagined." + +"If so, where is it?" Mr. Sydney Barnes demanded. "If it was worth that +to him, it may be to me." + +"Exactly," Wrayson remarked, "but the question of your brother's +murder comes in there. People don't commit a crime like that for +nothing, you know. If it was information which your brother had, it +died with him. If it was documents, they were probably stolen by the +person who killed him." + +"Come, that's cheerful," the young man declared ruefully. "If you're +guessing right, where do I come in?" + +"I'm afraid you don't come in," Wrayson answered; "but remember I am only +following out a surmise. Have you looked through your brother's papers +carefully?" + +"I've gone through 'em all," Mr. Sydney Barnes answered, "but, of course, +I was looking for scrip or a memorandum of investments, or something of +that sort. Perhaps if a clever chap like you were to go through them, you +might come across a clue." + +"It seems hard to believe that he shouldn't have left something of the +sort behind him," Wrayson answered. "It might be only an address, or a +name, or anything." + +"Will you come round with me and see?" Mr. Barnes demanded eagerly. "It +wouldn't take you long. You're welcome to see everything there is there." + +Wrayson called for the bill. + +"Very well," he said, "we will take a hansom round there at once." + +They left the place a few minutes later, and drove to Battersea. + +"There's a quarter to run, the landlord says, so I'm staying here," +Barnes explained, as he unlocked the front door. "I can't afford a +servant or anything of that sort of course, but I shall just sleep here." + +The rooms had a ghostly and unkempt appearance. The atmosphere of the +sitting-room was stuffy and redolent of stale tobacco smoke. Wrayson's +first action was to throw open the window. + +"There isn't a sign of a paper anywhere, except in that desk," the young +man remarked. "You'll find things in a mess, but whatever was there is +there now. I've destroyed nothing." + +Wrayson seated himself before the desk, and began a careful search. There +were restaurant bills without number, and a variety of ladies' cards, +more or less soiled. There were Empire and Alhambra programmes, a bundle +of racing wires, and an account from a bookmaker showing a small debit +balance. There were other miscellaneous bills, a plaintive epistle from a +lady signing herself Flora, and begging for the loan of a fiver for a +week, and an invitation to tea from a spinster who called herself Poppy. +Amongst all this mass of miscellaneous documents there were only three +which Wrayson laid on one side for further consideration. One of these +was a note, dated from the Adelphi a few days before the tragedy, and +written in a stiff, legal hand. It contained only a few lines: + +"DEAR SIR,-- + +"My client will be happy to meet you at any time on Thursday you may be +pleased to appoint, either here or at your own address. Please reply, +making an appointment, by return of post. + +"Yours faithfully, + +"W. BENTHAM." + +The second document was also in the shape of a letter from a firm of +private detective agents and was dated only a day earlier than the +lawyer's letter. It ran as follows: + +"MY DEAR SIR,-- + +"In reply to your inquiry, our charges for watching a single person in +London only are three guineas a day, including all expenses. For that +sum we can guarantee that the person with whose movements you desire to +keep in touch will be closely shadowed from roof to roof, so long as +the person remains within seven miles of Charing Cross. A daily report +will be made to you, and should legal proceedings ensue from any +information procured by us, you may rely upon any witness whom we might +place in the box. + +"Trusting to hear from you, + +"We are, yours sincerely, + +"McKENNA & FOULDS." + +The third document which Wrayson had preserved was the Cunard sailing +list for the current month, the plan of a steamer which sailed within a +week of the murder, and a few lines from the steamship office respecting +accommodation. + +"These, at any rate, will give you something to do," Wrayson remarked. +"You can go to the lawyer and find out who his client was who desired to +see your brother. There is a chance there! You can go to McKenna & Foulds +and find out who it was whom he wanted shadowed, and you can go to the +Cunard office and see whether he really intended sailing for America." + +Mr. Sydney Barnes looked a little doubtful. + +"I suppose," he suggested timidly, "you couldn't spare the time to go +round to these places with me? You see, I'm not much class over here, +even in Morris's togs. They'd take more notice of you, being a gentleman. +Good God! what's that?" + +Both men had started, for the sound was unexpected. Some one was fitting +a latch-key into the door! + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +THE DEAD MAN'S BROTHER + + +At the sight of the two men who awaited her entrance, the Baroness +stopped short. Whatever alarm or surprise she may have felt at their +presence was effectually concealed from them by the thick veil which she +wore, through which her features were undistinguishable. As though +purposely, she left to them the onus of speech. + +Wrayson took a quick step towards her. + +"Baroness!" he exclaimed. "What are you--I beg your pardon, but what are +you doing here?" + +She raised her veil and looked at them both attentively. In her hand she +still held the latch-key by means of which she entered. + +"Do you know," she answered quietly, "I was just going to ask you the +same thing." + +"Our presence is easily explained," Wrayson answered. "This is Mr. Sydney +Barnes, the brother of the Mr. Barnes who used to live here. He is +keeping the flat on for a short time." + +The Baroness was surprised, and showed it. Without a moment's hesitation, +however, she accepted Wrayson's words as an introduction to the young +man, and held out her hand to him with a brilliant smile. + +"I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Barnes," she said, "even under such +painful circumstances. I knew your brother very well, and I have heard +him speak of you." + +[Illustration: "AT THE SIGHT OF THE TWO MEN, THE BARONESS STOPPED SHORT"] + +Mr. Sydney Barnes did not attempt to conceal his surprise. He shook +hands with the Baroness, however, and regarded her with undisguised +admiration. + +"Well, this licks me!" he exclaimed frankly. "Do you mean to say that you +were a friend of Morris's?" + +"Certainly," the Baroness answered. "Why not?" + +"Oh! I don't know," the young man declared. "I'm getting past being +surprised at anything. I suppose it's the oof that makes the difference. +A friend of Morris's, you said. Why, perhaps--" He hesitated, and glanced +towards Wrayson. + +"There is no harm in asking the Baroness, at any rate," Wrayson said. +"The fact of the matter is," he continued, turning towards her, "that Mr. +Sydney Barnes here finds himself in a somewhat extraordinary position. He +is the sole relative and heir of his brother, and he has come over here +from South Africa, naturally enough, to take possession of his effects. +Now there is no doubt, from his bank-book, and his manner of life, that +Morris Barnes was possessed of a considerable income. According to his +bank-book it was L2,000 a year." + +The Baroness nodded thoughtfully. + +"He told me once that he was worth as much as that," she remarked, + +"Exactly, but the curious part of the affair is that, up to the present, +Mr. Sydney Barnes has been unable to discover the slightest trace of any +investments or any sum of money whatever. Now can you help us? Did +Morris Barnes ever happen to mention to you in what direction his +capital was invested? Did he ever give you any idea at all as to the +source of his income?" + +The Baroness stood quite still, as though lost in thought. Wrayson +watched her with a curious sense of fascination. He knew very well that +the subtle brain of the woman was occupied in no fruitless attempt at +reminiscence; he was convinced that the Baroness had never exchanged a +single word with Morris Barnes in her life. She was thinking her way +through this problem--how best to make use of this unexpected tool. Their +eyes met and she smiled faintly. She judged rightly that Wrayson, at any +rate, was not deceived. + +"I cannot give you any definite information," she said at last, "but--" + +She hesitated, and the young man's eagerness escaped all bounds. + +"But what?" he cried, leaning breathlessly towards her. "You know +something! What is it? Go on! Go on!" + +"I think that if I can remember it," she continued, "I can tell you the +name of the solicitor whom he employed." + +The young man dashed his fist upon the table. He was pale almost +to the lips. + +"By God! you must remember it," he cried. "Don't say you've forgotten. +It's most important. Two thousand a year!--pounds! Think!" + +She turned towards Wrayson. She wished to conciliate him, but the young +man was not a pleasant sight. + +"It was something like Benton," she suggested. + +Wrayson glanced downward at one of the three documents which he had +preserved. + +"Bentham!" he exclaimed. "Was that it?" + +The face of the Baroness cleared at once. + +"Of course it was! How stupid of me to have forgotten. His offices are +somewhere in the Adelphi." + +Barnes caught up his hat. + +"Where is that?" he exclaimed. "I'm off." + +Wrayson held out his hand. + +"Wait a moment," he said. "There is no hurry for an hour or so. This +affair may not be quite so simple, after all." + +"Why not?" the young man demanded fiercely. "It's my money, isn't it? I +can take out letters of administration. It belongs to me. He'll have to +give it up." + +"In the long run I should say that he will--if he has it," Wrayson +answered. "But before you go to him, remember this. He has seen the +account of your brother's death. He did not appear at the inquest. He has +taken no steps to discover his next of kin. Both of these proceedings +were part of his natural duty." + +"Mr. Wrayson is quite right," the Baroness remarked. "Mr. Bentham has not +behaved as an honest man. He will have to be treated firmly but +carefully. You are a little excited just now. Wait for an hour or so, and +perhaps Mr. Wrayson will go with you." + +Barnes turned towards him eagerly, and Wrayson nodded. + +"Yes! I'll go," he said. "I know Mr. Bentham slightly. He once paid me +rather a curious visit. But never mind that now." + +"Was it in connection with this affair?" the Baroness asked him quietly. + +Wrayson affected not to hear. He passed his cigarette case to Barnes, who +was stamping up and down the room, muttering to himself. + +"Look here, you'd better have a smoke and calm down, young man," he +said. "It's no use going to see Bentham in a state like this." + +The young man threw himself into a chair. Suddenly he sat up again, and +addressed the Baroness. + +"I say," he exclaimed, "how is it that you have a key to this flat? What +did you come here for this afternoon?" + +The Baroness laughed softly. + +"Well, I got the key from the landlord a few days ago. I told him that I +might take the flat, and he told me to come in and look at it and return +the key--which you see I haven't done. To be quite honest with you, +though, I had another reason for coming here." + +The young man looked at her with mingled suspicion and admiration. She +had raised her veil now, and even Wrayson was aware that he had scarcely +realized how beautiful a woman she was. Her tailor-made gown of dark +green cloth fitted her to perfection; she was turned out with all that +delightful perfection of detail which seems to be the Frenchwoman's +heritage. Her smile, half pathetic, half appealing, was certainly +sufficient to turn the head of a dozen young men such as Sydney Barnes. + +"I have told you," she continued, "that your brother and I used to be +very good friends. I wrote him now and then some rather foolish letters. +He promised to destroy them, but--men are so foolish, you know, +sometimes--I was never quite sure that he had kept his word, and I meant +to take this opportunity of looking for myself that he had not left them +about. You do not blame me, Mr. Sydney? You are not cross?" + +He kept his eyes upon her as though fascinated. + +"No!" he said. "No! I mean of course not." + +"These letters," she continued, "you have not seen them, Mr. Sydney? No? +Or you, Mr. Wrayson?" + +"We have not come across any letters at all answering to that +description," Wrayson assured her. + +The Baroness glanced across at Barnes, who was certainly regarding her in +somewhat peculiar fashion. + +"Why does Mr. Sydney look at me like that?" she asked, with a little +shrug of the shoulders. "He does not think that I came here to steal? +Why, Mr. Sydney," she added, "I am very, very much richer than ever your +brother was." + +"Richer--than he was! Richer than two thousand a year!" he gasped. + +The Baroness laughed softly but heartily. She stole a sidelong glance +at Wrayson. + +"Why, my dear young man," she said, "it costs me--oh! quite as much as +that each year to dress." + +Barnes looked at her as though she were something holy. When he spoke, +there was awe in his tone. The problem which had formed itself in his +thoughts demanded expression. + +"And you say that you were a pal--I mean a friend of Morris's? You wrote +him letters?" + +The Baroness smiled. + +"Why not?" she exclaimed. "Women have queer tastes, you know. We like all +sorts of men. I think I must ask Mr. Wrayson to bring you in to tea one +afternoon. Would you like to come?" + +"Yes!" he answered. + +She nodded a farewell and turned to Wrayson. + +"As for you," she said under her breath, "you had better come soon if +you want to make your peace with Louise." + +"May I come this afternoon?" he asked. + +She nodded, and held out her exquisitely gloved hand. + +"I knew you were going to be an ally," she murmured under her breath. +"Don't let the others get hold of him." + +She was gone before Wrayson could ask for an explanation. The others! If +only he could discover who they were. + +He turned back into the room. + +"Do you mind coming down into my flat for a moment, Barnes?" he asked. "I +want to telephone to the office before I go out with you again." + +The young man followed him heavily. He seemed a little dazed. In +Wrayson's sitting-room, he stood looking about him as though appraising +the value of the curios, pictures, and engravings with which the +apartment was crowded. Wrayson, while waiting for his call, watched him +curiously. In his present state his vulgarity was perhaps less glaringly +apparent, but his lack of attractiveness was accentuated. His ears seemed +to have grown larger, his pinched, Semitic features more repulsive, and +his complexion sallower. He was pitchforked into a world of which he knew +nothing, and he seemed stunned by his first contact with it. Only one +thing remained--the greed in his eyes. They seemed to have grown narrower +and brighter with desire. + +He did not speak until they were in the cab. Then he turned to Wrayson. + +"I say," he exclaimed, "what was her name?" + +Wrayson smiled. + +"The Baroness de Sturm," he answered. + +"Baroness! Real Baroness! All O.K., I suppose?" + +"Without a doubt," Wrayson answered. + +"And Morris knew her--she wrote letters to him," he continued, "a +woman--like that." + +He was silent for several moments. It was obvious that his opinion of his +brother was rising rapidly. His tone had become almost reverential. + +"I've got to find where that money is," he said abruptly. "If I go +through fire and water to get it, I'll have it! I'll keep on Morris's +flat. I'll go to his tailor! I'll--you're laughing at me. But I mean it! +I've had enough of grubbing along on nothing a week, and living in the +gutters. I want a bit of Morris's luck." + +Wrayson put his head out of the cab. The young man's face was not +pleasant to look at. + +"We are there," he said. "Come along." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +THE LAWYER'S SUGGESTION + + +The offices of Mr. Bentham were situated at the extreme end of a dingy, +depressing looking street which ran from the Adelphi to the Embankment +Gardens. It was a street of private hotels which no one had ever heard +of, and where apparently no one ever stayed. A few cranky institutions, +existing under the excuse of charity, had their offices there, and a firm +of publishers, whose glory was of the past, still dragged out their +uncomfortable and profitless existence in a building whose dusty windows +and smoke-stained walls sufficiently proclaimed their fast approaching +extinction. They found the name of Mr. Bentham upon a rusty brass plate +outside the last building in the street, with the additional intimation +that his offices were upon the first floor. There they found him, without +clerks, without even an errand boy, in a large bare apartment overlooking +the embankment. The room was darkened by the branches of one of a row of +elm trees, and the windows themselves were curtainless. There was no +carpet upon the floor, no paper upon the walls, no rows of tin boxes, +none of the usual surroundings of a lawyer's office. The solicitor, who +had bidden them enter, did not at first offer them any salutation. He +paused in a letter which he was writing and his eyes rested for a moment +upon Wrayson, and for a second or two longer upon his companion. + +"Good afternoon, Mr. Bentham!" Wrayson said. "My name is Wrayson--you +remember me, I daresay." + +"I remember you certainly, Mr. Wrayson," the lawyer answered. His eyes +were resting once more upon Sydney Barnes. + +"This," Wrayson explained, "is Mr. Sydney Barnes, a brother of the Mr. +Morris Barnes, who was, I believe, a client of yours." + +"Scarcely," the lawyer murmured, "a client of mine, although I must +confess that I was anxious to secure him as one. Possibly if he had lived +a few more hours, the epithet would have been in order." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"From a letter which we found in Mr. Barnes' desk," he remarked, "we +concluded that some business was pending between you. Hence our visit." + +Mr. Bentham betrayed no sign of interest or curiosity of any sort. + +"I regret," he said, "that I cannot offer you chairs. I am not +accustomed to receive my clients here. If you care to be seated upon +that form, pray do so." + +Wrayson glanced at the form and declined. Sydney Barnes seemed scarcely +to have heard the invitation. His eyes were glued upon the lawyer's face. + +"Will you tell me precisely," Mr. Bentham said, "in what way I can be of +service to you?" + +"I want to know where my brother's money is," Barnes declared, stepping a +little forward. "Two thousand a year he had. We've seen it in his +bank-book. Five hundred pounds every quarter day! And we can't find a +copper! You were his lawyer, or were going to be. You must have known +something about his position." + +Mr. Bentham looked straight ahead with still, impassive face. No trace +of the excitement in Sydney Barnes' face was reflected in his features. + +"Two thousand a year," he repeated calmly. "It was really as much as +that, was it? Your brother had, I believe, once mentioned the amount to +me. I had no idea, though, that it was quite so large." + +"I am his heir," the young man declared feverishly. "I'll take my oath +there's no one else. I'm going to take out letters of administration. He +hadn't another relation on God's earth." + +Mr. Bentham regarded the young man thoughtfully. + +"Have you any idea, Mr. Barnes," he asked, "as to the source of +this income?" + +"Of course I haven't," Barnes answered. "That's why we're here. You must +know something about it." + +"Your brother was not my client," the lawyer said slowly. "If his death +had not been quite so sudden, I think that he might have been. As it is, +I know very little of his affairs. I am afraid that I can be of very +little use to you." + +"You must know something," Barnes declared doggedly. "You must tell us +what you do know." + +"Your brother was," Mr. Bentham said, "a very remarkable man. Has it +never occurred to you, Mr. Barnes, that this two thousand a year might +have been money received in payment of services rendered--might have +been, in short, in the nature of a salary?" + +"Not likely," Barnes answered, contemptuously. "Morris did no work at +all. He did nothing but just enjoy himself and spend money." + +"Nothing but enjoy himself and spend money," Mr. Bentham repeated. "Ah! +Did you see a great deal of your brother during the last few years?" + +"I saw nothing of him at all. I was out in South Africa. I have only just +got back. Not but that I'd been here long ago," the young man added, with +a note of exasperation in his tone, "if I'd had any idea of the luck he +was in. Why, I lent him a bit to come back with, though I was only +earning thirty bob a week, and the brute only sent it me back in bits, +and not a farthing over." + +"That was not considerate of him," Mr. Bentham agreed--"not at all +considerate. Your brother had the command of considerable sums of money. +In fact, Mr. Barnes, I may tell you, without any breach of confidence, I +think that if he had kept his appointment with me on the night when he +was murdered, I was prepared, on behalf of my client, to hand him a +cheque for ten thousand pounds!" + +Barnes struck the table before him with his clenched fist. + +"For what?" he cried, hysterically. "Ten thousand pounds for what?" + +"Your brother," Mr. Bentham said calmly, "was possessed of securities +which were worth that much or even more to my client." + +"And where are they now?" Barnes gasped. + +"I do not know," Mr. Bentham answered. "If you can find them, I think it +very likely that my client might make you a similar offer." + +It was the first ray of hope. Barnes moistened his dry lips with his +tongue, and drew a long breath. + +"Securities!" he muttered. "What sort of securities?" + +"There, unfortunately," Mr. Bentham said, "I am unable to help you. I am +an agent only in the matter. They were securities which my client was +anxious to buy, and your brother was not unwilling to sell for cash, +notwithstanding the income which they were bringing him in." + +"But how can I look for them, if I don't know what they are?" Barnes +protested. + +"There are difficulties, certainly," the lawyer admitted, carefully +polishing his spectacles with the corner of a silk handkerchief; "but, +then, as you have doubtless surmised, the whole situation is a +difficult one." + +"You can get to know," Barnes exclaimed. "Your client would tell you." + +Mr. Bentham sighed gently. + +"Of course," he said, "I am only quoting my own opinion, but I do not +think that my client would do anything of the sort. These securities +happen to be of a somewhat secret nature. Your brother was in a position +to make an exceedingly clever use of them. It appears incidentally to +have cost him his life, but there are risks, of course, in every +profession." + +Barnes stared at him with wide-open eyes. He seemed, for the moment, +struck dumb. Wrayson, who had been silent during the greater part of the +conversation, turned towards the lawyer. + +"You believe, then," he asked, "that Morris Barnes was murdered for the +sake of these securities?" + +"I believe--nothing," the lawyer answered. "It is not my business to +believe. Mr. Morris Barnes was in the receipt of an income of two +thousand a year, which we might call dividend upon these securities. My +client, through me, made Mr. Barnes a cash offer to buy them outright, +and although I must admit that Mr. Barnes had not closed with us, yet I +believe that he was on the point of doing so. He had doubtless had it +brought home to him that there was a certain amount of danger associated +with his position generally. The night on which my client arrived in +England was the night upon which Mr. Morris Barnes was murdered. The +inference to be drawn from this circumstance I can leave, I am sure, to +the common sense of you two gentlemen." + +"First, then," Wrayson said, "it would appear that he was murdered by the +people who were paying him two thousand a year, and who were acting in +opposition to your client!" + +Mr. Bentham shrugged his shoulder gently. + +"It does not sound unreasonable," he admitted. + +"And secondly," Wrayson continued, "if that was so, he was probably +robbed of these securities at the same time." + +"Now that, also," Mr. Bentham said smoothly, "sounds reasonable. But, as +a matter of fact," he continued, looking down upon the table, "there are +certain indications which go to disprove it. My personal opinion is that +the assassin--granted that there was an assassin, and granted that he was +acting on behalf of the parties we have referred to--met with a +disappointment." + +"In plain words," Wrayson interrupted, "you mean that the other side have +not possessed themselves of the securities?" + +"They certainly have not," Mr. Bentham declared. "They still remain--the +property by inheritance of this young gentleman here--Mr. Sydney Barnes, +I believe." + +His tone was so even, so expressionless, that its slightest changes were +noticeable. It seemed to Wrayson that a faint note of sarcasm had crept +into these last few words. Mr. Barnes himself, however, was quite +oblivious of it. His yellow-stained fingers were spread out upon the +table. He leaned over towards the lawyer. His under lip protruded, his +deep-set eyes seemed closer than ever together. He was grimly, tragically +in earnest. + +"Look here," he said. "What can I do to get hold of 'em? I don't care +what it is. I'm game! I'll deal with your man--the cash client. I'll give +you a commission, see! Five per cent on all I get. How's that? I'll play +fair. Now chuck away all this mystery. What were these securities? Where +shall I start looking for them?" + +Mr. Bentham regarded him with stony face. "There are certain points," he +said, "upon which I cannot enlighten you. My duty to my client forbids +it. I cannot describe to you the nature of those securities. I cannot +suggest where you should look for them. All that I can say is that they +are still to be found, and that my client is still a buyer." + +The young man turned to Wrayson. His face was twitching with some +emotion, probably anger. + +"Did you ever hear such bally rot!" he exclaimed. "He knows all +about these securities all right. They belong to me. He ought to be +made to tell." + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"It does seem rather a wild-goose chase, doesn't it?" he remarked. "Can't +you tell him a little more, Mr. Bentham?" + +Mr. Bentham sighed, as though his impotence were a matter of sincere +regret to him. + +"The only advice I can offer Mr. Barnes," he said, "is that he induce you +to aid him in his search. Between you, I should never be surprised to +hear of your success." + +"And why," Wrayson asked, "should you consider me such a useful ally?" + +Mr. Bentham looked at him steadily for a moment. + +"You appear to me," he said, "to be a young man of intelligence--and you +know how to keep your own counsel. I should consider Mr. Barnes very +fortunate if you could make up your mind to aid him in his search." + +"It is not my affair," Wrayson answered stiffly. "I could not possibly +pledge myself to enter upon such a wild-goose chase." + +Mr. Bentham turned over some papers which lay upon the table before him. +He had apparently had enough of the conversation. + +"You must not call it exactly that, Mr. Wrayson," he said. "Mr. Barnes' +success in his quest would probably result in an act of justice to +society. To you personally, I should imagine it would be expressly +interesting." + +"What do you mean?" Wrayson asked, quickly. + +The lawyer looked at him calmly. + +"It should solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder!" he answered. + +Wrayson touched his companion on the shoulder. + +"I think that we might as well go," he said. "Mr. Bentham does not mean +to tell us anything more." + +Barnes moved slowly towards the door, but with reluctance manifested in +his sullen face and manner. + +"I don't know how I'm going to set about this job," he said, turning once +more towards the lawyer. "I shall do what I can, but you haven't seen the +last of me, yet, Mr. Bentham. If I fail, I shall come back to you." + +The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. He was already absorbed in other work. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +A DINNER IN THE STRAND + + +Wrayson was conscious, from the moment they left Mr. Bentham's office, of +a change in the deportment of the young man who walked by his side. A +variety of evil passions had developed one at least more tolerable--he +was learning the lesson of self-restraint. He did not speak until they +reached the corner of the street. + +"Where can we get a drink?" he asked, almost abruptly. "I want +some brandy." + +Wrayson took him to a bar close by. They sat in a quiet corner. + +"I want to ask you something," he said, leaning halfway over the little +table between them. "How much do you know about the lady who came into my +brother's flat when we were there?" + +The direct significance of the question startled Wrayson. This young man +was beginning to think. + +"How much do I know of her?" he repeated. "Very little." + +"She is really a Baroness--not one of these faked-up ones?" + +"She is undoubtedly the Baroness de Sturm," Wrayson answered, a +little stiffly. + +"And she has plenty of coin?" + +"Certainly," Wrayson answered. "She is a great lady, I believe, in her +own country." + +Barnes struck the table softly with the flat of his hand. His eyes were +searching for his answer in Wrayson's face, almost before the words had +left his lips. + +"Do you believe then," he asked, "that a woman like that wrote +love-letters to Morris? You knew Morris. He was what those sort of people +call a bounder. Same as me! If he knew her at all it was a wonder. I +can't believe in the love-letters." + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"The whole affair," he declared, "everything connected with your brother, +is so mysterious that I really don't know what to say." + +"You knew Morris," the young man persisted. "You know the Baroness. Set +'em down side by side. They don't go, eh? You know that. Morris could tog +himself up as much as he liked, and he was always a good 'un at that when +he had the brass, but he'd never be able to make himself her sort. And if +she's a real lady, and wasn't after the brass, then I don't believe that +she ever wrote him love-letters. What?" + +Wrayson said nothing. The young man held out his empty glass to a waiter. + +"More brandy," he ordered briefly. "Look here, Mr. Wrayson," he added, +adopting once more his mysterious manner, "those love-letters don't go! +What did the Baroness want in my brother's flat? She struck me dumb when +I first saw her. I admit it. I'd have swallowed anything. More fool me! I +tell you, though, I'm not having any more. Will you come along with me to +her house now, and see if we can't make her tell us the truth?" + +Wrayson shook his head deliberately. + +"Mr. Barnes," he said, "I am sorry to disappoint you, and I sympathize +very much with your position, but you mustn't take it for granted that +I am, shall we say, your ally in this matter. I haven't either the time +or the patience to give to investigations of this sort. I have done +what I could for you, and I will give you what advice I can, or help +you in any way, if you care to come and see me. But you mustn't count +on anything else." + +Barnes' face dropped. He was obviously disappointed. + +"You won't come and see the Baroness with me even?" he asked. + +"I think not," Wrayson answered. "To tell you the truth, I don't think +that it would be of any use. Even if your suspicions are correct--and you +scarcely know what you suspect, do you?--the Baroness is much too clever +a woman to allow herself to be pumped by either you or me." + +Wrayson felt himself subjected for several moments to the scrutinizing +stare of those blinking, unpleasant eyes. + +"You're not taking her side against me, are you?" Barnes asked +distrustfully. + +"Certainly not," Wrayson answered impatiently. "You must be reasonable, +my young friend. I have done what I can to put you in the way of helping +yourself, but I am a busy man. I have my own affairs to look after, and I +can't afford to play the part of a twentieth-century Don Quixote." + +"I understand," the young man said slowly. "You are going to turn me up." + +"You are putting a very foolish construction upon what I have said," +Wrayson answered irritably. "I have gone out of my way to help you, but, +frankly, I think that yours is a wild-goose chase." + +Barnes rose to his feet and finished his brandy. + +"I don't believe it," he declared. "I'm going to have that two thousand a +year, if I have to take that man Bentham by the throat and strangle the +truth out of him. If I can't find out without, I'll make him tell me the +truth if I swing for it. By God, I will!" + +They left the place together and walked towards the corner of the street. + +"I shouldn't do anything rash, if I were you," Wrayson said. "I fancy +you'd find Bentham a pretty tough sort to tackle. You must excuse me now. +I am going into the club for a few minutes." + +"How are you, Wrayson?" a quiet voice asked behind. + +Wrayson turned round abruptly. It was Stephen Heneage who had greeted +him--the one man whom, at that moment, he was least anxious to meet of +any person in the world. Already he could see that Heneage was taking +quiet but earnest note of his companion. + +Wrayson nodded a little abruptly and left Barnes without any +further farewell. + +"Coming round to the club?" he asked. + +Heneage assented, and glanced carelessly behind at Barnes, who was +walking slowly in the opposite direction. + +"Who's your friend?" he asked. "You shook him off a little suddenly, +didn't you?" + +"He is not a friend," Wrayson answered, "and I was trying to get rid of +him when you came up. He is nobody of any account." + +Heneage shook his head thoughtfully. + +"It won't do, Wrayson," he said. "That young man possessed a cast of +features which are positively unmistakable." + +"What do you mean?" Wrayson demanded. + +"I mean that he was a relation, and a near relation, too, I should +imagine, of our deceased friend Morris Barnes," Heneage answered coolly. +"I shall be obliged to make that young man's acquaintance." + +"Damn you and your prying!" Wrayson exclaimed angrily. "I wish--" + +He stopped abruptly. Heneage was already retracing his steps. + +Wrayson, after a moment's indecision, went on to the club, and made his +way at once to the billiard-room. The Colonel was sitting in his usual +corner chair, watching a game of pool, beaming upon everybody with his +fatherly smile, encouraging the man who met with ill luck, and applauding +the successful shots. He was surrounded by his cronies, but he held out +his hand to Wrayson, who leaned against the wall by his side and waited +for his opportunity. + +"Colonel," he said at last in his ear, taking advantage of the applause +which followed a successful shot, "I want half an hour's talk with you, +quite by ourselves. Can you slip away and come and dine with me +somewhere?" + +The Colonel looked dubious. + +"I'm afraid they won't like it," he answered. "Freddy and George are +here, and Tempest's coming in later." + +"I can't help it," Wrayson answered. "You can guess what it's about. It's +a serious matter." + +The Colonel sighed. + +"We might find an opportunity later on," he suggested. + +"It won't do," Wrayson answered. "I want to get right away from here. I +wouldn't bother you if it wasn't necessary." + +"I'm sure you wouldn't," the Colonel admitted. "We'll slip away quietly +when this game is over. It won't be long. Good shot, Freddy! Sixpence, +you divide!" + +They found themselves in the Strand about half an hour later. + +"Where shall we go?" Wrayson asked. "Somewhere quiet." + +"Across the way," the Colonel answered. "We shan't see any one we +know there." + +Wrayson nodded, and they crossed the street and entered Luigi's. It was +early for diners, and they found a small table in a retired corner. +Wrayson ordered the dinner, and then leaned across the table towards +his guest. + +"It's that Barnes matter, Colonel," he said quietly. "Heneage has taken +it up and means going into it thoroughly. He saw me letting out your +daughter that night." + +The Colonel was in the act of helping himself to _hors d'oeuvre._ His +fork remained suspended for a moment in the air. Then he set it down with +trembling fingers. The cheery light had faded from his face. He seemed +suddenly older. His voice sounded unnatural. + +"Heneage!" he repeated, sharply. "Stephen Heneage! What affair is +it of his?" + +"None," Wrayson answered. "He likes that sort of thing, that's all. He +saw--your daughter with a lady--the Baroness de Sturm, and the seeing +them together, after he had watched her come out of the flat that night, +seemed to suggest something to him. He warned me that he had made up his +mind to solve the mystery of Morris Barnes' murder; he advised me, in +fact, to clear out. And now, since then--" + +The waiter brought the soup. Wrayson broke off and talked for a moment or +two to the _maitre d'hotel,_ who had paused at their table. Presently, +when they were alone, he went on. + +"Since then, a young brother of Barnes has turned up from South Africa. +There was some mystery about Morris Barnes and the source of his income. +The brother is just as determined to solve this as Heneage seems to be to +discover the--the murderer! They will work together, and I am afraid! Not +for myself! You know for whom." + +The Colonel was very grave. He ate slowly, and he seemed to be thinking. + +"There is one man, a solicitor named Bentham," Wrayson continued, "who I +believe knows everything. But I do not think that even Heneage will be +able to make him speak. His connection with the affair is on behalf of a +mysterious client. Young Barnes and I went to see him this afternoon, but +beyond encouraging the boy to search for the source of his brother's +income, he wouldn't open his mouth." + +"A solicitor named Bentham," the Colonel repeated mechanically. "Ah!" + +"Do you know him?" Wrayson asked. + +"I have heard of him," the Colonel answered. "A most disreputable person, +I believe. He has offices in the Adelphi." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"And whatever his business is," he continued, "it isn't the ordinary +business of a solicitor. He has no clerks--not even an office boy!" + +The Colonel poured himself out a glass of wine. + +"No clerks--not even an office boy! It all agrees with what I have heard. +A bad lot, Wrayson, I am afraid--a thoroughly bad lot. Are you sure that +up to now he has kept his own counsel?" + +"I am sure of it," Wrayson answered. + +The Colonel seemed in some measure to have recovered himself. He looked +Wrayson in the face, and though grave, his expression was decidedly +more natural. + +"Herbert," he asked, sinking his voice almost to a whisper, "who do you +believe murdered Morris Barnes?" + +"God knows," Wrayson answered. + +"Do you believe--that--my daughter had any hand in it?" + +"No!" Wrayson declared fiercely. + +The Colonel was silent for a moment. He seemed to be contemplating the +label on the bottle of claret which reposed in its cradle by their side. + +"And yet," he said thoughtfully, "she would necessarily be involved in +any disclosures which were made." + +"And so should I," Wrayson declared. "And those two, Sydney Barnes and +Heneage, mean to bring about disclosures. That is why I felt that I must +talk to some one about this. Colonel, can't you get your daughter to tell +us the whole truth--what she was doing in Barnes' flat that night, and +all the rest of it? We should be forewarned then!" + +The Colonel covered his face with his hand for a moment. The question +obviously distressed him. + +"I can't, Herbert," he said, in a low tone. "You would scarcely think, +would you, that I was the sort of man to live on irreconcilable terms +with one of my own family? But there it is. Don't think hardly of her. It +is more the fault of circumstances than her fault. But I couldn't go to +see her--and she wouldn't come to see me." + +Wrayson sighed. + +"It is like the rest of this cursed mystery, utterly incomprehensible," +he declared. "I shall never--" + +With his glass half raised to his lips, he paused suddenly in his +sentence. His face became a study in the expression of a boundless +amazement. His eyes were fastened upon the figures of two people on their +way up the room, preceded by the smiling _maitre d'hotel._ Some words, or +rather an exclamation, broke incoherently from his lips. He set down his +glass hurriedly, and a stain of red wine crept unheeded across the +tablecloth. + +"Look," he whispered hoarsely,--"look!" + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A CONFESSION OF LOVE + + +The Colonel turned bodily round in his chair. The couple to whom Wrayson +had drawn his attention were certainly incongruous enough to attract +notice anywhere. The man was lank, elderly, and of severe appearance. He +was bald, he had slight side-whiskers, he wore spectacles, and his face +was devoid of expression. He was dressed in plain dinner clothes of +old-fashioned cut. The tails of his coat were much too short, his collar +belonged to a departed generation, and his tie was ready made. In a small +Scotch town he might have passed muster readily enough as the clergyman +or lawyer of the place. As a diner at Luigi's, ushered up the room to the +soft strains of "La Mattchiche," and followed by such a companion, he was +almost ridiculously out of place. If anything, she was the more +noticeable of the two to the casual observer. Her hair was dazzlingly +yellow, and arranged with all the stiffness of the coiffeur's art. She +wore a dress of black sequins, cut perilously low, and shorn a little by +wear of its pristine splendour. Her complexion was as artificial as her +high-pitched voice; her very presence seemed to exude perfumes of the +patchouli type. She was the sort of person concerning whom the veriest +novice in such matters could have made no mistake. Yet her companion +seemed wholly unembarrassed. He handed her the menu and looked calmly +around the room. + +"Who are those people?" the Colonel asked. "Rather a queer combination, +aren't they?" + +"The man is Bentham, the lawyer," Wrayson answered. His eyes were fixed +upon the lady, who seemed not at all indisposed to become the object of +any stray attention. + +"That Bentham!" the Colonel repeated, under his breath. "But what on +earth--where the mischief could he pick up a companion like that?" + +Wrayson scarcely heard him. He had withdrawn his eyes from the lady with +an effort. + +"I have seen that woman somewhere," he said thoughtfully--"somewhere +where she seemed quite as much out of place as she does here. +Lately, too." + +"H'm!" the Colonel remarked, leaning back in his chair to allow the +waiter to serve him. "She's not the sort of person you'd be likely to +forget either, is she?" + +"And, by Heavens, I haven't!" Wrayson declared, suddenly laying down his +knife and fork. "I remember her now. It was at the inquest--Barnes' +inquest. She was one of the two women at whose flat he called on his way +home. What on earth is Bentham doing with her?" + +"You think," the Colonel remarked quietly, "that there is some +connection--" + +"Of course there is," Wrayson interrupted. "Does that old fossil look +like the sort to take such a creature about for nothing? Colonel, he +doesn't know himself--where those securities are! He's brought that +woman here to pump her!" + +The Colonel passed his hand across his forehead. + +"I am getting a little confused," he murmured. + +"And I," Wrayson declared, with barely suppressed excitement, "am +beginning to see at least the shadow of daylight. If only you had some +influence with your daughter, Colonel!" + +The Colonel looked at him steadfastly. Wrayson wondered whether it was +the light, or whether indeed his friend had aged so much during the last +few months. + +"I have no influence over my daughter, Wrayson," he said. "I thought that +I had already explained that. And, Herbert," he added, leaning over the +table, "why don't you let this matter alone? It doesn't concern you. You +are more likely to do harm than good by meddling with it. There may be +interests involved greater than you know of; you may find understanding a +good deal more dangerous than ignorance. It isn't your affair, anyhow. +Take my advice! Let it alone!" + +"I wish I could," Wrayson answered, with a little sigh. "Frankly, I would +if I could, but it fascinates me." + +"All that I have heard of it," the Colonel remarked wearily, "sounds +sordid enough." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"I think," he said, "that it is the sense of personal contact in a case +like this which stirs the blood. I have memories about that night, +Colonel, which I couldn't describe to you--or any one. And now this young +brother coming on the scene seems to bring the dead man to life again. +He's one of the worst type of young bounders I ever came into contact +with. A creature without sentiment or feeling of any sort--nothing but an +almost ravenous cupidity. He's wearing his brother's clothes now--thinks +nothing of it! He hasn't a single regret. I haven't heard a single decent +word pass his lips. But he wants the money. Nothing else! The money!" + +"Do you believe," the Colonel asked, "that he will get it?" + +"Who can tell?" Wrayson answered. "That Morris Barnes was in possession +of valuables of some sort, everything goes to prove. Just think of the +number of people who have shown their interest in him. There is Bentham +and his mysterious client, the Baroness de Sturm and your daughter, +and--the person who murdered him. Apparently, even though he lost his +life, Barnes was too clever for them, for his precious belongings must +still be undiscovered." + +The Colonel finished his wine and leaned back in his chair. + +"I am tired of this subject," he said. "I should like to get back to +the club." + +Wrayson called for the bill a little unwillingly. He was, in a sense, +disappointed at the Colonel's attitude. + +"Very well," he said, "we will bury it. But before we do so, there is one +thing I have had it in my mind to say--for some time. I want to say it +now. It is about your daughter, Colonel!" + +The Colonel looked at him curiously. + +"My daughter?" he repeated, under his breath. + +Wrayson leaned a little forward. Something new had come into his face. +This was the first time he had suffered such words to pass his +lips--almost the first time he had suffered such thoughts to form +themselves in his mind. + +"I never looked upon myself," he said quietly, "as a particularly +impulsive person. Yet it was an impulse which prompted me to conceal the +truth as to her presence in the flat buildings that night. It was a +serious thing to do, and somehow I fancy that the end is not yet." + +"Why did you do it?" the Colonel asked. "You did not know who she was. It +could not have been that." + +"Why did I do it?" Wrayson repeated. "I can't tell you. I only know that +I should do it again and again if the need came. If I told you exactly +how I felt, it would sound like rot. But I'm going to ask you that +question." + +"Well?" + +The Colonel's grey eyebrows were drawn together. His eyes were keen and +bright. So he might have looked in time of stress; but he was not in the +least like the genial idol of the Sheridan billiard-room. + +"If I came to you to-morrow," Wrayson said, "and told you that I had met +at last the woman whom I wished to make my wife, and that woman was your +daughter, what should you say?" + +"I should be glad," the Colonel answered simply. + +"You and she are, for some unhappy reason, not on speaking terms. That--" + +"Good God!" the Colonel interrupted, "whom do you mean? Whom are you +talking about?" + +"About your daughter--whom I shielded--the companion of the Baroness de +Sturm. Your daughter Louise." + +The Colonel raised his trembling fingers to his forehead. His voice +quivered ominously. + +"Of course! Of course! God help me, I thought you meant Edith! I never +thought of Louise. And Edith has spoken of you lately." + +"I found your younger daughter charming," Wrayson said seriously, "but +it was of your daughter Louise I was speaking. I thought that you would +understand that." + +"My daughter--whom you found--in Morris Barnes' flat--that night?" + +"Exactly," Wrayson answered, "and my question is this. I cannot ask you +why you and she parted, but at least you can tell me if you know of any +reason why I should not ask her to be my wife." + +The Colonel was silent. + +"No!" he said at last, "there is no reason. But she would not consent. I +am sure of that." + +"We will let it go at that," Wrayson answered. "Come!" + +He had chosen his moment for rising so as to pass down the room almost at +the same time as Mr. Bentham and his strange companion. Prolific of +smiles and somewhat elephantine graces, the lady's darkened eyes met +Wrayson's boldly, and finding there some encouragement, she even favoured +him with a backward glance. In the vestibule he slipped a half-crown into +the attendant's hand. + +"See if you can hear the address that lady gives her cabman," he +whispered. + +The boy nodded, and hurried out after them. Wrayson kept the Colonel back +under the pretence of lighting a fresh cigar. When at last they strolled +forward, they met the boy returning. He touched his hat to Wrayson. + +"Alhambra, sir!" he said, quietly. "Gone off alone, sir, in a hansom. +Gentleman walked." + +The Colonel kept silence until they were in the street. + +"Coming to the club?" he asked, a little abruptly. + +"No!" Wrayson answered. + +"You are going after that woman?" the Colonel exclaimed. + +"I am going to the Alhambra," Wrayson answered. "I can't help it. It +sounds foolish, I suppose, but this affair fascinates me. It works on my +nerves somehow. I must go." + +The Colonel turned on his heel. Without another word, he crossed the +Strand, leaving Wrayson standing upon the pavement. Wrayson, with a +little sigh, turned westwards. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +AN AMATEUR DETECTIVE + + +Wrayson easily discovered the object of his search. She was seated upon a +lounge in the promenade, her ample charms lavishly displayed, and her +blackened eyes mutely questioning the passers-by. She welcomed Wrayson +with a smile which she meant to be inviting, albeit she was a little +suspicious. Men of Wrayson's stamp and appearance were not often such +easy victims. + +"Saw you at Luigi's, didn't I?" he asked, hat in hand. + +She nodded, and made room for him to sit down by her side. + +"Did you see the old stick I was with?" she asked. "I don't know why I +was fool enough to go out with him. Trying to pump me about poor old +Barney, too, all the time. Just as though I couldn't see through him." + +"Old Barney!" Wrayson repeated, a little perplexed. + +She laughed coarsely. + +"Oh! come, that won't do!" she declared. "I'm almost sure you're on the +same lay yourself. Didn't I see you at the inquest?--Morris Barnes' +inquest, of course? You know whom I mean right enough." + +"I know whom you mean now," Wrayson admitted. "Yes! I was there. Queer +affair, wasn't it?" + +The lady nodded. + +"I should like a liqueur," she remarked, with apparent irrelevance. +"Benedictine!" + +They were seated in front of a small table, and were at times the object +of expectant contemplation on the part of a magnificent individual in +livery and knee-breeches. Wrayson summoned him and ordered two +Benedictines. + +"Now I don't mind telling you," the lady continued, leaning over towards +him confidentially, "that I'm dead off that old man who came prying round +and took me out to dinner, to pump me about poor Barney! He didn't get +much out of me. For one thing, I don't know much. But the little I do +know I'd sooner tell you than him." + +"You're very kind," Wrayson murmured. "He used to come to these places a +good deal, didn't he?" + +She nodded assent. + +"He was always either here or at the Empire. He wasn't a bad sort, +Barney, although he was just like all the rest of them, close with his +money when he was sober, and chucking it about when he'd had a drop too +much. What did you want to know about him in particular?" + +"Well, for one thing," Wrayson answered, "where he got his money from." + +She shook her head. + +"He was always very close about that," she said. "The only story I ever +heard him tell was that he'd made it mining in South Africa." + +"You have really heard him say that?" Wrayson asked. + +"Half a dozen times," she declared. + +"That proves, at any rate," he remarked thoughtfully, "that there was +some mystery about his income, because I happen to know that he came +back from South Africa a pauper." + +"Very likely," she remarked. "Barney was always the sort who would rather +tell a lie than the truth." + +"Did he say anything to you that night about being in any kind of +danger?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"No! I don't think so. I didn't take particular notice of what he said, +because he was a bit squiffy. I believe he mentioned some thing about a +business appointment that night, but I really didn't take much notice." + +"You didn't tell them anything about that at the inquest," Wrayson +remarked. + +"I know I didn't," she admitted. "You see, I was so knocked over, and I +really didn't remember anything clearly, that I thought it was best to +say nothing at all. They'd only have been trying to ferret things out of +me that I couldn't have told them." + +"I think that you were very wise," Wrayson said. "You don't happen to +remember anything else that he said, I suppose?" + +"No! except that he seemed a little depressed. But there's something else +about Barney that I always suspected, that I've never heard mentioned +yet. Mind you, it may be true or it may not, but I always suspected it." + +"What was that?" Wrayson demanded. + +"I believe that he was married," she declared impressively. + +"Married!" + +Wrayson looked incredulous. It certainly did not seem probable. + +"Where is his wife then?" he asked. "Why hasn't she turned up to claim +his effects? Besides, he lived alone. He was my neighbour, you know. His +brother has taken possession of his flat." + +The lady rather enjoyed the impression she had made. She was not averse, +either, to being seen in so prominent a place in confidential talk with a +man of Wrayson's appearance. It might not be directly remunerative, but +it was likely to do her good. + +"He showed me a photograph once," she continued. "A baby-faced chit of a +girl it was, but he was evidently very proud of it. A little girl of his +down in the country, he told me. Then, do you know this? He was never in +London for Sunday. Every week-end he went off somewhere; and I never +heard of any one who ever saw him or knew where he went to." + +"This is very interesting," Wrayson admitted; "but if he was married, +surely his wife would have turned up by now!" + +"Why should she?" the lady answered. "Don't you see that she very likely +has what all you gentlemen seem to be so anxious about--his income?" + +"By Jove!" Wrayson exclaimed softly. "Of course, if there was +anything mysterious about the source of it, all the more reason for +her to keep dark." + +"Well, that's what I've had in my mind," she declared, summoning the +waiter. "I'll take another liqueur, if you don't mind." + +Wrayson nodded. His thoughts were travelling fast. + +"Did you tell Mr. Bentham this?" he asked. + +"Not I," she answered. "The old fool got about as much out of me as he +deserved--and that's nothing." + +"I'm sure I'm very much obliged," Wrayson answered, drawing out his +pocketbook. "I wonder if I might be allowed--?" + +He glanced at her inquiringly. She nodded. "I'm not proud," she +declared. + + * * * * * + +"As an amateur detective," Wrayson remarked to himself, as he strolled +homewards, "I am beginning rather to fancy myself. And yet--" + +His thoughts had stolen away. He forgot Morris Barnes and the sordid +mystery of which he was the centre. He remembered only the compelling +cause which was driving him towards the solution of it. The night was +warm, and he walked slowly, his hands behind him, and ever before his +eyes the shadowy image of the girl who had brought so many strange +sensations into his somewhat uneventful life. Would he ever see her, he +wondered, without the light of trouble in her eyes, with colour in her +cheeks, and joy in her tone? He thought of her violet-rimmed eyes, her +hesitating manner, her air always as of one who walked hand in hand with +fear. She was not meant for these things! Her lips and eyes were made for +laughter; she was, after all, only a girl. If he could but lift the +cloud! And then he looked upwards and saw her--leaning from the little +iron balcony, and looking out into the cool night. + +He half stopped. She did not move. It was too dark to see her features, +but as he looked upwards a strange idea came to him. Was it a gesture or +some unspoken summons which travelled down to him through the +semi-darkness? He only knew, as he turned and entered the flat, that a +new chapter of his life was opening itself out before him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +DESPERATE WOOING + + +Wrayson felt, from the moment he crossed the threshold of the room, that +he had entered an atmosphere charged with elusive emotion. He was not +sure of himself or of her as she turned slowly to greet him. Only he was +at once conscious that something of that change in her which he had +prophetically imagined was already shining out of her eyes. She was at +once more natural and further removed from him. + +"I am glad," she said simply. "I wanted to say good-bye to you." + +He was stunned for a moment. He had not imagined this. + +She nodded. + +"Good-bye!" he repeated. "You are going away?" + +"To-morrow. Oh! I am glad. You don't know how glad I am." + +She swept past him and sank into an easy-chair. She wore a black +velveteen evening dress, cut rather high, without ornament or relief of +any sort, and her neck gleamed like polished ivory from which creeps +always a subtle shade of pink. Her hair was parted in the middle and +brushed back in little waves, her eyes were full of fire, and her face +was no longer passive. Beautiful she had seemed to him before, but +beautiful with a sort of impersonal perfection. She was beautiful now in +her own right, the beauty of a woman whom nature has claimed for her own, +who acknowledges her heritage. The fear-frozen subjectivity in which he +had yet found enough to fascinate him had passed away. He felt that she +was a stranger. + +"Always," she murmured, "I shall think of London as the city of dreadful +memories. I should like to be going to set my face eastwards or westwards +until I was so far away that even memory had perished. But that is just +where the bonds tell, isn't it?" + +"There are many who can make the bonds elastic," he answered. "It is only +a question of going far enough." + +"Alas!" she answered, "a few hundred miles are all that are +granted to me. And London is like a terrible octopus. Its arms +stretch over the sea." + +"A few hundred miles," he repeated, with obvious relief. "Northward or +southward, or eastward or westward?" + +"Southward," she answered. "The other side of the Channel. That, at +least, is something. I always like to feel that there is sea between me +and a place which I--loathe!" + +"Is London so hateful to you, then?" he asked. + +"Perhaps I should not have said that," she answered. "Say a place of +which I am afraid!" + +He looked across at her. He, too, in obedience to a gesture from her, +was seated. + +"Come," he said, "we will not talk of London, then. Tell me where you +are going." + +She shook her head. + +"To a little Paradise I know of." + +"Paradise," he reminded her, "was meant for two." + +"There will be two of us," she answered, smiling. + +He felt his heart thump against his ribs. + +"Then if one wanted to play the part of intruder?" + +She shook her head. + +"The third person in Paradise was always very much _de trop_," she +reminded him. + +"It depends upon the people who are already there," he protested. + +"My friend," she said, "is in search of solitude, absolute and complete." + +He shook his head. + +"Such a place does not exist," he declared confidently. "Your friend +might as well have stayed at home." + +"She relies upon me to procure it for her," she said. + +A rare smile flashed from Wrayson's lips. + +"You can't imagine what a relief her sex is to me!" he exclaimed. + +"I don't know why," she answered pensively. "Do you know anything about +the North of France, Mr. Wrayson?" + +"Not much," he answered. "I hope to know more presently." + +Her eyes laughed across at him. + +"You know what I said about the third person in Paradise?" + +"I can't admit your Paradise," he said. + +"You are a heretic," she answered. "It is a matter of sex, of course." + +"Naturally! Paradise is so relative. It may be the halo thrown +round a court in the city or a rose garden in the country, any +place where love is!" + +"And may I not love my friend!" she demanded. + +"You may love me," he answered, the passion suddenly vibrating in his +tone. "I will be more faithful than any friend. I will build Paradise for +you--wherever you will! I will build the walls so high that no harm or +any fear shall pass them." + +She waved him back. Something of the old look, which he hated so to see, +was in her face. + +"You must not talk to me like this, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Indeed you +must not." + +"Why not?" he demanded. "If there is a reason I will know it." + +She looked him steadily in the eyes. + +"Can't you imagine one for yourself?" she asked. + +He laughed scornfully. + +"You don't understand," he said. "There is only one reason in the world +that I would admit--I don't even know that I would accept that. The other +things don't count. They don't exist." + +She looked at him a little incredulously. She was still sitting, and he +was standing now before her. Her fingers rested lightly upon the arms of +her chair, she was leaning slightly forward as though watching for +something in his face. + +"Tell me that there is another man," he cried, "that you don't care +for me, that you never could care for me, and I will go away and you +shall never see my face again. But nothing short of that will drive me +from you." + +He spoke quickly, his tone was full of nervous passion. It never occurred +to her to doubt him. + +"You can be what else you like," he continued, "thief, +adventuress--murderess! So long as there is no other man! Come to me and +I will take you away from it all." + +She laughed very softly, and his pulses thrilled at the sound, for there +was no note of mockery there; it was the laugh of a woman who listens to +hidden music. + +"You are a bold lover," she murmured. "Have you been reading romances +lately? Do you know that it is the twentieth century, and I have seen you +three times? You don't know what you say. You can't mean it." + +"By Heaven, I do!" he cried, and for one exquisite moment he held her in +his arms. Then she freed herself with a sudden start. She had lost her +composure. Her cheeks were flushed. + +"Don't!" she cried, sharply. "Remember our first meeting. I am not the +sort of person you imagine. I never can be. There are reasons--" + +He swept them aside. Something seemed to tell him that if he did not +succeed with her now, his opportunity would be gone forever. + +"I will listen to none of them," he declared, standing between her and +the door. "They don't matter! Nothing matters! I choose you for my wife, +and I will have you. I wouldn't care if you came to me from a prison. +Better give in, Louise. I shan't let you escape." + +She had indeed something of the look of a beautiful hunted animal as she +leaned a little towards him, her eyes riveted upon his, her lips a little +parted, her bosom rising and falling quickly. She was taken completely by +surprise. She had not given Wrayson credit for such strength of mind or +purpose. She had believed entirely in her own mastery over him, for any +such assault as he was now making. And she was learning the truth. Love +that makes a woman weak lends strength to the man. Their positions were +becoming reversed. It was he who was dictating to her. + +"I am going away," she said nervously. "You will forget me. You must +forget me." + +"You shall not go away," he answered, "unless I know where. Don't be +afraid. You can keep your secrets, whatever they are. I want to know +nothing. Go on exactly with the life you are leading, if it pleases you. +I shan't interfere. But you are going to be my wife, and you shall not +leave London without telling me about it." + +"I am leaving London," she faltered, "to-morrow." + +"I was thinking," he remarked, calmly, "of taking a little holiday +myself." + +She laughed uneasily. + +"You are absurd," she declared, "and you must go away. Really! The +Baroness will be home directly. I would rather, I would very much rather +that she did not find you here." + +He held out his arms to her. His eyes were bright with the joy of +conquest. + +"I will go, Louise," he answered, "but first I will have my answer--and +no answer save one will do!" + +She bit her lip. She was moved by some emotion, but he was unable, for +the moment, to classify it. + +"I think," she declared, "that you must be the most persistent man +on earth." + +"You are going to find me so," he assured her. + +"Listen," she said firmly, "I will not marry you!" + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +"On that point," he answered, "I am content to differ from you. +Anything else?" + +She stamped her foot. + +"I do not care for you! I do not wish to marry you!" she repeated. "I am +going away, and I forbid you to follow me." + +"No good!" he declared, stolidly. "I am past all that." + +She held up her finger, and glanced backward out of the window. + +"It is the Baroness," she said. "I must go and open the door." + +For one moment she lay passive in his arms; then he could have sworn that +her lips returned his kiss. She was there when they heard the turning of +a latch-key in the door. With a little cry she slipped away and left him +alone. The outer door was thrown open, and the Baroness stood upon the +threshold. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +STABBED THROUGH THE HEART + + +The Baroness recognized Wrayson with a little shrug of the shoulders. + +"Ah! my dear Mr. Wrayson," she exclaimed, "this is very kind of you. You +have been keeping Louise company, I hope. And see what droll things +happen! It is your friend, Mr. Barnes, who has brought me home this +evening, and who will take a whisky and soda before he goes. Is it not +so, my friend?" + +She turned around, but there was no immediate response. The Baroness +looked over the banisters and beheld her escort in the act of ascending. + +"Coming right along," he called out cheerfully. "It was the cabman who +tried to stop me. He wanted more than his fare. Found he'd tackled the +wrong Johnny this time." + +Mr. Sydney Barnes came slowly into view. He was wearing an evening suit, +obviously too large for him, a made-up white tie had slipped round +underneath his ear, a considerable fragment of red silk handkerchief was +visible between his waistcoat and much crumpled white shirt. An opera +hat, also too large for him, he was wearing very much on the back of his +head, and he was smoking a very black cigar, from which he had failed to +remove the band. He frowned when he saw Wrayson, but followed the +Baroness into the room with a pronounced swagger. + +"You two need no introduction, of course," the Baroness remarked. "I am +not going to tell you where I found Mr. Barnes. I do not expect to be +very much longer in England, so perhaps I am not so careful as I ought to +be. Louise, if she knew, would be shocked. Now, Mr. Wrayson, do not hurry +away. You will take some whisky and soda? I am afraid that my young +friend has not been very hospitable." + +"You are very kind," Wrayson said. "To tell you the truth, I was rather +hoping to see Miss Fitzmaurice again. She disappeared rather abruptly." + +The Baroness shook her finger at him in mock reproach. + +"You have been misbehaving," she declared. "Never mind. I will go and see +what I can do for you." + +She stood for a moment before a looking-glass arranging her hair, and +then left the room humming a light tune. Sydney Barnes, with his hands in +his pockets, flung himself into an easy-chair. + +"I say," he began, "I don't quite see what you're doing here." + +Wrayson looked at him for a moment in supercilious surprise. + +"I scarcely see," he answered, "how my movements concern you." + +Mr. Barnes was unabashed. + +"Oh! chuck it," he declared. "You know very well what I'm thinking of. To +tell you the truth, I've come to the conclusion that there's some +connection between this household and my brothers affairs. That's why I'm +palling on to the Baroness. She's a fine woman--class, you know, and all +that sort of thing, but what I want is the shino! You tumble?" + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders slightly. + +"I wish you every success," he said. "Personally, I think that you are +wasting your time here." + +"Perhaps so," Barnes answered. "I'm taking my own risks." + +Wrayson turned away, and at that moment the Baroness re-entered the room. + +"My friend," she said, addressing Wrayson, "I can do nothing for you. +Whether you have offended Louise or made her too happy, I cannot say. But +she will not come down. You will not see her again to-night." + +"I am sorry," Wrayson answered. "She is going away to-morrow, I +understand?" + +The Baroness sighed. + +"Alas!" she declared, "I must not answer any questions. Louise has +forbidden it." + +Wrayson took up his hat. + +"In that case," he remarked, "there remains nothing for me but to wish +you good night!" + +There was a cab on the rank opposite, and Wrayson, after a moment's +hesitation, entered it and was driven to the club. He scarcely expected +to find any one there, but he was in no mood for sleep, and the thought +of his own empty rooms chilled him. Somewhat to his surprise, however, he +found the smoking-room full. The central figure of the most important +group was the Colonel, his face beaming with good-nature, and his cheeks +just a little flushed. He welcomed Wrayson almost boisterously. + +"Come along, Herbert," he cried. "Plenty of room. What'll you have to +drink, and have you heard the news?" + +"Whisky and soda," Wrayson answered, sinking into an easy-chair, "and I +haven't heard any news." + +The Colonel took his cigar from his mouth, and leaned forward in his +chair. He had the appearance of a man who was striving to appear more +grave than he felt. + +"You remember the old chap we saw dining at Luigi's to-night--Bentham, I +think you said his name was?" + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Of course! What about him?" + +"He's dead!" the Colonel declared. + +Wrayson jumped out of his chair. + +"Nonsense!" he exclaimed. "You don't mean it, Colonel!" + +"Unfortunately, I do," the Colonel answered. "He was found dead on the +stairs leading to his office, about ten o'clock to-night. A most +interesting case. The murder, presuming it was a murder, appears to have +been committed--" + +Wrayson was suddenly pale. + +"Murder!" he repeated. "Colonel, do you mean this?" + +The Colonel, who hated being interrupted, answered a little testily. + +"My dear Wrayson," he expostulated, "is this the sort of thing a man +invents for fun? Do listen for a moment, if you can, in patience. It is a +deeply interesting case. If you remember, it was about nine o'clock when +we left Luigi's; Bentham must have gone almost straight to his office, +for he was found there dead a very few minutes after ten." + +"Who killed him, and why?" Wrayson asked breathlessly. + +"That, I suppose, we shall know later," the Colonel answered. "The +police will be on their mettle this time, but it isn't a particularly +easy case. He was found lying on his face, stabbed through the heart. +That is all anybody knows." + +The thoughts went rushing through Wrayson's brain. He remembered the man +as he had seemed only a few hours ago, cold, stonily indifferent to +young Barnes' passionate questions, inflexibly silent, a man who might +easily kindle hatreds, to all appearance without a soft spot or any +human feeling. He remembered the close of their interview, and Sydney +Barnes' rash threat. The suggested idea clothed itself almost +unconsciously with words. + +"I have just seen young Barnes," he said. "He has been at the Empire all +the evening." + +The Colonel lit another cigar. + +"It takes a man of nerve and deliberation," he remarked, "to commit a +murder. From what I have heard of him, I should not imagine your young +friend to be possessed of either. The lady whom he was entertaining, or +rather failing to entertain, at dinner--" + +"I have seen her since," Wrayson interrupted shortly. "She went straight +to the Alhambra." + +The Colonel nodded. + +"I would have insured her against even suspicion," he remarked. "She was +a large, placid woman, of the flabby order of nerves. She will probably +faint when she hears what has happened. She might box a man's ears, but +her arm would never drive a dagger home into his heart, especially with +such beautiful, almost mathematical accuracy. We must look elsewhere, I +fancy, for the person who has paid Bentham's debt to society. Heneage, +here, has an interesting theory." + +Wrayson looked across and found that his eyes met Heneage's. He was +sitting a little in the background, with a newspaper in his hand, which +he was, however, only affecting to read. He was taking note of every word +of the conversation. He was obviously annoyed at the Colonel's reference +to him, but he did his best to conceal it. + +"Scarcely a theory," he remarked, laying down his paper for a moment. "I +can hardly call it that. I only remarked that I happened to know a little +about Bentham, and that his clients, if he had any, were mostly +foreigners, and their business of a shady nature. As a matter of fact, he +was struck off the rolls here some years ago. I forget the case now, but +I know that it was a pretty bad one." + +"So you see," the Colonel resumed, "he was probably in touch with a loose +lot, though what benefit his death could have been to any one it is, of +course, a little hard to imagine. Makes one think, somehow, of this +Morris Barnes affair, doesn't it? I wonder if there is any connection +between the two." + +Heneage laid down his paper now, and abandoned his attitude of +indifferent listener. He was obviously listening for what Wrayson +had to say. + +"Connection of some sort between the two men there certainly was," +Wrayson admitted. "We know that." + +"Exactly," Heneage remarked. "I speak without knowing very much about +the matter, but I am thoroughly convinced of one thing. If you can find +the murderer of Morris Barnes, you will solve, at the same time, the +mystery of Bentham's death. It is the same affair; part and parcel of +the same tangle." + +The Colonel was silent for a few moments. He seemed to be reflecting on +Heneage's words. + +"I believe you are right," he said at last. "I should be curious to know, +though, how you arrived at this decision." + +Heneage looked past him at Wrayson. + +"You should ask Wrayson," he said. + +But Wrayson had risen, and was sauntering towards the door. + +"I'm off," he remarked, looking backwards and nodding his farewells. "If +I stay here any longer, I shall have nightmare. Time you fellows were in +bed, too. How's the Malleni fund, Colonel?" + +The Colonel's face relaxed. A smile of genuine pleasure lit up his +features. + +"Going strong," he declared triumphantly. "We shall ship him off for +Italy next week with a very tidy little cheque in his pocket. Dear old +Dobson gave us ten pounds, and the concert fund is turning out well." + +Wrayson lit a cigarette and looked back from the open door. + +"You're more at home with philanthropy than horrors, Colonel," he +remarked. "Good night, everybody!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE FLIGHT OF LOUISE + + +The Baroness was looking her best, and knew it. She had slept well the +night before, and her eyes were soft and clear. Her maid had been +unusually successful with her hair, and her hat, which had arrived +only that morning from Paris, was quite the smartest in the room. She +was at her favourite restaurant, and her solitary companion was a +good-looking man, added to which the caviar was delightfully fresh, +and the toast crisp and thin. Consequently the Baroness was in a +particularly good temper. + +"I really do wish, my dear friend," she said, smiling across at him, +"that I could do what you ask. But it is not so simple, not so simple as +you think. You say, 'Give me the address of your friend,' You ask me +nicely, and I like you well enough to be glad to do it. But Louise she +say to me, 'Give no one my address! Let no one know where I am gone.'" + +"I'm sure she didn't mean that to apply to me," Wrayson pleaded. + +"Ah! but she even mentioned your name," the Baroness declared. "I say to +her, 'Not even Mr. Wrayson?' and she answered, 'No! No! No!'" + +"And you promised?" he asked. + +"Why, yes! What else could I do?" she replied. "I say to her, 'You are a +very foolish girl, Louise. After you have gone you will be sorry. Mr. +Wrayson will be angry with you, and I shall make myself very, very +agreeable to him, and who knows but he will forget all about you?' But +Louise she only shake her head. She knows her own countrymen too well. +They are so terribly insularly constant." + +"Is that such a very bad quality, Baroness?" + +"Ah! I find it so," she admitted. "I do not like the man who can think of +only one thing, only one woman at a time. He is so dull, he has no +imagination. If he has only one sweetheart, how can he know anything +about us? for in a hundred different women there are no two alike." + +"That is all very well," Wrayson answered, smiling; "but, you see, if a +man cares very much for one particular woman, he hasn't the least +curiosity about the rest of her sex." + +She sighed gently, and her eyes flashed her regrets. Very blue eyes they +were to-day, almost as blue as the turquoises about her throat. + +"They say," she murmured, "that some Englishmen are like that. It is so +much a pity--when they are nice!" + +"I suppose," he suggested, "that yours is the Continental point of view." + +She was silent until the waiter, who was filling her glass with white +wine, had departed. Then she leaned over towards him. Her forehead was a +little wrinkled, her eyebrows raised. She had the half-plaintive air of a +child who is complaining of being unjustly whipped. + +"Yes! I think it is," she answered. "The lover, as I know him, is one who +could not be unkind to a woman. In his heart he is faithful, perhaps, to +one, but for her sake the whole world of beautiful women are objects of +interest to him. He will flirt with them when they will. He is always +their admirer. In the background there may always be what you call the +preference, but that is his secret." + +Wrayson smiled across the table. + +"This is a very dangerous doctrine, Baroness!" he declared. + +"Dangerous?" she murmured. + +"For us! Remember that we are a susceptible race." + +She flung out her hands and shook her head. Susceptible! She denied it +vehemently. + +"It is on the contrary," she declared. "You do not lose your heads or +your hearts very easily, you Englishmen." + +"You do not know us," he protested. + +"I know _you_," she answered. "For myself, I admit it. When I am with a +man who is nice, I try that I may make him, just a little, no more, but +just a little in love with me. It makes things more amusing. It is better +for him, and we are not bored. But with you, _mon ami, I_ know very well +that I waste my time. And so, I ask you instead this question. Tell me +why you have invited me to take luncheon with you." + +She flashed her question across at him carelessly enough, but he felt +that she expected an answer, and that she was not to be deceived. + +"I wanted Miss Fitzmaurice's address," he said. + +"Naturally. But what else?" + +He sighed. + +"I want to know more than you will tell me, I am afraid," he said. "I +want to know why you and Miss Fitzmaurice are living together in London +and leading such an unusual life, and how in Heaven's name you became +concerned in the affairs of Morris Barnes." + +"Ah!" she said. "You want to know that? So!" + +"I do," he admitted. + +"And yet," she remarked, "even for that it was not worth while to make +love to me! You ask so much, my friend, and you give so little." + +"If you--" he began, a little awkwardly. + +Her light laugh stopped him. + +"Ah, no! my friend, you must not be foolish," she said. "I will tell you +what I can for nothing, and that, I am afraid, is very little more than +nothing. But as for offering me a bribe, you must not think of that. It +would not be _comme-il-faut;_ not at all _gentil_." + +"Tell me what you can, then," he begged. + +She shrugged her shoulders. + +"It is so little," she declared; "only this. We are not adventuresses, +Louise and I. We are living together because we were schoolfellows, and +because we are both anxious to succeed in a certain undertaking to which, +for different reasons, we have pledged ourselves. To succeed we needed +some papers which had come into the hands of Mr. Morris Barnes. That is +why I am civil to that little--what you call bounder, his brother." + +"It sounds reasonable enough, this," Wrayson said; "but what about +the murder of Morris Barnes, on the very night, you know, when Louise +was there?" + +"It is all a very simple matter," the Baroness answered, quietly, "but +yet it is a matter where the death of a few such men would count for +nothing. A few ages ago it would not have been a matter of a dozen Morris +Barnes, no, nor a thousand! Diplomacy is just as cruel, and just as +ruthless, as the battlefield, only it works, down there--underground!" + +"It is a political matter, then?" Wrayson asked swiftly. + +The Baroness smiled. She took a cigarette from her little gold case +and lit it. + +"Ah!" she exclaimed, "you must not try to, what you say, pump me! You can +call it what you will. Only to Louise, as to me, it is very much a +personal affair. Shall we talk now, for a little, of other things?" + +Wrayson sighed. + +"I may not know, then," he begged, "where Louise has gone, or why?" + +"It would not be her wish," the Baroness answered, "that I should +tell you." + +"Very well," Wrayson said, "I will ask you no more questions. Only this. +I have told you of this man Bentham." + +The Baroness inclined her head. He had told her nothing that was +news to her. + +"Was he on your side, or opposed to you?" + +"You are puzzling me," the Baroness confessed. + +"Already," Wrayson explained, "I know as much of the affair as this. +Morris Barnes was in possession of something, I do not know whether it +was documents, or what possible material shape it had, but it brought him +in a considerable income, and both you and some others were endeavouring +to obtain possession of it. So far, I believe that neither of you have +succeeded. Morris Barnes has been murdered in vain; Bentham the lawyer, +who telephoned to me on the night of his death, has shared his fate. To +whose account do these two murders go, yours or the others'?" + +"I cannot answer that question, Mr. Wrayson," the Baroness said. + +"Do you know," Wrayson demanded, dropping his voice a little, "that, but +for my moral, if not actual perjury, Louise herself would have been +charged with the murder of Morris Barnes?" + +"She had a narrow escape," the Baroness admitted. + +"She had a narrow escape," Wrayson declared, "but the unfortunate part of +the affair is, that she is not even now safe!" + +The Baroness looked at him curiously. She was in the act of drawing on +her gloves, but her fingers suddenly became rigid. + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +"I mean," Wrayson said, "that another person saw her come out of the +flats that night. It was a friend of mine, who kept silence at first +because he believed that it was a private assignation of my own. Since +then events have occurred to make him think differently. He has gone +over to the other side. He is spending his time with young Sydney +Barnes, and he has set himself to discover the mystery of Morris Barnes' +murder. He has even gone so far as to give me warning that I should be +better out of England." + +"Who is this person?" the Baroness asked calmly. + +"His name is Stephen Heneage, and he is a member of my club, the club to +which Louise's father also belongs," Wrayson replied. + +The Baroness suddenly dropped her veil, but not before Wrayson had seen +a sudden change in her face. He remembered suddenly that Heneage was no +stranger to her, he remembered the embarrassment of their meeting at +the Alhambra. + +"You know him, of course," he repeated. "Heneage is not a man to be +trifled with. He has had experience in affairs of this sort, he is no +ordinary amateur detective." + +"Yes! I know Mr. Stephen Heneage," the Baroness said. "Tell me, does +Louise know?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I have had no opportunity of telling her," he answered. "I might not +have thought so seriously of it, but this morning I received a note +from Heneage." + +"Yes! What did he say?" + +"It was only a line or two," Wrayson answered. "He reminded me of his +previous warning to me to leave England for a time, and he underlined it. +Louise ought to know. I want to tell her!" + +"I am glad you did not tell me this before," the Baroness said, as they +left the room together, "or it would have spoiled my luncheon. I do not +like your friend, Mr. Heneage!" + +"You will give me Louise's address?" he asked. "Some one must see her." + +"I will send it you," the Baroness promised, "before the day is out." + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE CHATEAU OF ETARPE + + +"One would scarcely believe," Wrayson remarked, leaning back in his chair +and drawing in a long deep breath, "that we are within three miles of one +of the noisiest and most bustling of French watering places." + +"It is incredible," his companion admitted. + +They were seated in a garden behind the old inn of the _Lion d'Or_, in +the village of St. Etarpe. Before them was a round table, on whose +spotless white cloth still remained dishes of fruit and a bottle of +wine--not the _vin ordinaire_ which had been served with their repast, +but something which Wrayson had ordered specially, and which the landlord +himself, all smiles and bows, had uncorked and placed before them. +Wrayson produced his cigarette case. + +"How did you hear of this place?" he asked, watching the smoke curl +upwards into the breathless air. "I fancy that you and I are the only +guests here." + +Wrayson's companion, tall, broad-shouldered, and heavily bearded, was +busy filling a pipe from a pouch by his side. His features were +unmistakably Saxon, and his cheeks were tanned, as though by much +exposure to all sorts of weathers. He was still apparently on the right +side of middle age, but his manners were grave, almost reserved. + +"I was in the neighbourhood many years ago," he answered. "I had a fancy +to revisit the place. And you?" + +"I discovered it entirely by accident," Wrayson admitted. "I walked out +from Chourville this morning, stayed here for some luncheon, and was so +delighted that I took a room and went straight back for my bag. There +isn't an emperor in Europe who has so beautiful a dining-room as this!" + +Together they looked across the valley, a wonderful panorama of vine-clad +slopes and meadows, starred with many-coloured wild flowers, through +which the river wound its way, now hidden, now visible, a thin line of +gleaming quicksilver. Tall poplars fringed its banks, and there were +white cottages and farmhouses, mostly built in the shelter of the +vine-covered cliffs. To the left a rolling mass of woods was pierced by +one long green avenue, at the summit of which stretched the grey front +and towers of the Chateau de St. Etarpe. Wrayson looked long at the +fertile and beautiful country, which seemed to fade so softly away in the +horizon; but he looked longest at the chateau amongst the woods. + +"I wonder who lives there," he remarked. "I meant to have asked +the waiter." + +"I can tell you," the stranger said. "The chateau belongs to the Baroness +de Sturm." + +"A Frenchwoman?" Wrayson asked. + +"Half French, half Belgian. She has estates in both countries, I +believe," his companion answered. "As a matter of fact, I believe that +this chateau is hers in her own right as a daughter of the Etarpes. She +married a Belgian nobleman." + +"You seem well acquainted with the neighbourhood," Wrayson remarked. + +"I have been here before," was the somewhat short answer. + +Wrayson produced his card-case. + +"As we seem likely to see something of one another during the next few +days, _nolens volens_," he remarked, "may I introduce myself? My name is +Wrayson, Herbert Wrayson, and I come from London." + +The stranger took the card a little doubtfully. + +"I am much obliged," he said. "I do not carry a card-case, but my name +is Duncan." + +"An Englishman, of course?" Wrayson remarked smiling. + +"I am English," Mr. Duncan answered, "but I have not been in England for +many years." + +There was something about his manner which forbade any further +questioning on Wrayson's part. The two men sat together in silence, and +Wrayson, although not of a curious turn of mind, began to feel more than +an ordinary interest in his companion. One thing he noticed in +particular. Although, as the sun sank lower, the beauties of the +landscape below increased, Duncan's eyes scarcely for a moment rested +upon them. He had turned his chair a little, and he sat directly facing +the chateau. The golden cornfields, the stained-glass windows of the grey +church rising like a cathedral, as it were, in the midst of the +daffodil-starred meadows, caught now with the flood of the dying sunlight +mingled so harmoniously with their own time-mellowed richness, the +increasing perfume of the flowers by which they were surrounded,--none of +these things seemed for one moment to distract his attention. Steadily +and fixedly he gazed up that deep green avenue, empty indeed of any +moving object, and yet seemingly not empty to him. For he had the air of +one who sees beyond the world of visible objects, of one who sees things +dimmed to those of only natural powers. With what figures, Wrayson +wondered, idly, was he peopling that empty avenue, what were the fancies +which had crept out from his brain and held him spellbound? He had +admitted a more or less intimate acquaintance with the place: was he, +perhaps, a former lover of the Baroness, when she had been simply Amy de +St. Etarpe? Wrayson forgot, for a while, his own affairs, in following +out these mild speculations. The soft twilight stole down upon them; here +and there little patches of grey mist came curling up the valley. A bat +came flying about their heads, and Wrayson at last rose. + +"I shall take a stroll." he remarked, "and turn in. Good night, if I +don't see you again!" + +The man named Duncan turned his head. + +"Good night!" he said, mechanically. + +Wrayson walked down the garden and passed through a wicket-gate into the +broad white road. Setting his back to the village, he came, in a few +minutes, to the great entrance gate of the chateau, hung from massive +stone pillars of great age, and themselves fashioned of intricate and +curiously wrought ironwork. The gates themselves were closed fast, and +the smaller ones on either side, intended for pedestrians, were fastened +with a padlock. Wrayson stood for a moment looking through the bars into +the park. The drive ran for half a mile perfectly straight, and then, +taking an abrupt bend, passed upwards into the woods, amongst which was +the chateau. + +"What do you want?" an abrupt voice demanded. + +Wrayson looked round in surprise. A man in gamekeeper's clothes had +issued from the lodge, carrying a gun. + +"Good evening!" Wrayson said. "Is it permitted for the public to enter +the park?" + +"By no means," was the surly answer. "Cannot monsieur see that the gates +are locked?" + +"I understood from the landlord of the _Lion d'Or_" Wrayson said, "that +the villagers were allowed the privilege of walking in the park." + +The man looked at him suspiciously. + +"You are not of the village," he said. + +"I am staying there," Wrayson answered. + +"It makes nothing. For the present, villagers and every one are forbidden +to enter. There are visitors at the chateau." + +Wrayson turned away. + +"Very well," he said. "Good night!" + +The man did not answer him. Wrayson continued to climb the hill which +skirted the park. He did not turn round, but he heard the gates open, and +he was convinced that he was being watched, if he was not followed. He +kept on, however, until he came to some more iron gates, from which +stretched the grass avenue which led straight to the gardens of the +chateau. Dimly, through the gathering dusk, he caught a view of it, which +was little more than an impression; silver grey and quiet with the peace +which the centuries can bring, it seemed to him, with its fantastic +towers, and imperfectly visible outline, like a palace of dreams rather +than a dwelling house, however magnificent, of material stone and brick. +An owl flew out from the trees a few yards to the left of him, and +drifted slowly over his head, with much flapping of wings, and a weird, +soft call, faintly answered in the distance by his mate; from far away +down in the valley came the slow ringing of a single evening bell. Save +for these things, a silence almost wonderful reigned. Gradually Wrayson +began to feel that sense of soothed nerves, of inexpressible relief, +which Nature alone dispenses--her one unequalled drug! All the agitation +and turmoil of the last few months seemed to fall away from him. He felt +that he had been living in a world of false proportions; that the maze of +doubts and fears through which he had wandered was, after all, no part of +life itself, merely a tissue of irrelevant issues, to which his distorted +imagination had affixed a purely fictitious importance. What concern of +his was it how Morris Barnes had lived or died? And who was Bentham that +his fate should ever disturb him? The secrets of other people were theirs +to keep. His own secret was more wonderful by far. Alone, from amidst the +tangle of his other emotions, he felt its survival--more than its +survival, its absolute conquest of all other feelings and considerations. +It was truth, he knew, that men sought after in the quiet places, and it +was the truth which he had found. If he could but see her coming down the +avenue, coming to him across the daisy-strewn grass, beneath the shadow +of the stately poplars! The very thought set his heart beating like a +boy's. He felt the blood singing in his veins, the love-music swelling in +his heart. He shook the gates. They, too, were padlocked. Then he +listened. There was no sound of any footfall in the road. He moved a few +steps higher up, and, making use of the pillars of the gate, he climbed +on to the wall. It was a six-foot drop, but he came down noiselessly +into a bed of moss. Once more he paused to listen. There was no sound +save the burring of some night insect over his head. Stealthily, and +keeping in the shadow of the trees, he began to climb the grassy avenue +towards the chateau. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +A PASSIONATE PILGRIM + + +It seemed to Wrayson, as by and by he began to make bolder and more +rapid progress, that it was an actual fairy world into which he was +passing with beating heart and this strange new sense of delicious +excitement. As he drew nearer, the round Norman towers and immense grey +front of the chateau began to take to themselves more definite shape. +The gardens began to spread themselves out; terraced lawns, from whose +flower-beds, now a blurred chaos so far as colour was concerned, waves +of perfume came stealing down to him; statuary appeared, white and +ghostly in the half light, and here and there startlingly lifelike; +there were trimmed shrubs, and a long wall of roses trailed down from +the high stone balcony. But, as yet, there was no sound or sign of human +life! That was to come. + +Wrayson came to a pause at last. He had passed from the shelter of the +woods into a laurel walk, but further than this he could not go without +being plainly visible to any one in the chateau. So he waited and +watched. There were lights, he could see now, behind many of the ground +floor windows of the chateau, and more than once he fancied that he could +catch the sound of music. He tried to fancy in which room she was, to +project his passionate will through the twilight, so that she should come +to him. But the curtains remained undrawn, and the windows closed. Still +Wrayson waited! + +Then at last Providence intervened. Above the top of the woods, over on +the other side of the chateau, came first a faint lightening in the sky, +which gradually deepened into a glow. Slowly the rim of the moon crept +up, and very soon the spectral twilight was at an end. The shadowy +landscape became real and vivid. It was a new splendour creeping softly +into the night. Wrayson moved a little further back into his shelter, and +even as he did so one of the lower windows of the chateau was thrown +open, and two women, followed by a man, stepped out. Their appearance was +so sudden that Wrayson felt his breath almost taken away. He leaned a +little forward and watched them eagerly. + +The woman, who was foremost of the little group, was a stranger to him, +although her features, and a somewhat peculiar headdress which she wore, +seemed in a sense familiar. She was tall and dark, and she carried +herself with the easy dignity of a woman of rank. Her face was thoughtful +and her expression sweet; if she was not actually beautiful, she was at +least a woman whom it was impossible to ignore. But Wrayson glanced at +her only for a minute. It was Louise who stood by her side!--the music of +her voice came floating down to him. Heavens! had he ever realized how +beautiful she was? He devoured her with his eyes, he strained his nerves +to hear what they were saying. He was ridiculously relieved to see that +the man who stood by their side was grey-headed. He was beginning to +realize what love was. Jealousy would be intolerable. + +They moved about the terrace. He scarcely knew whether he hoped or feared +the more that they would descend and come nearer to him. After all, it +was cruelly tantalizing. He dared not disobey the Baroness, or he would +have stepped boldly from his hiding-place and gone up to them. But that, +by the terms of his promise, was impossible. He was to make his presence +known to Louise only if he could do so secretly. He was not to accost her +in the presence of any other person. It might be days or weeks before the +opportunity came--or it might--it might be minutes! For, almost without +warning, she was alone. The others had left her, with farewells, if any, +of the briefest. She came forward to the grey stone parapet, and, with +her head resting upon her hand, looked out towards the woods. + +His heart began to beat faster--his brain was confused. Was there any +chance that she would descend into the gardens--dare he make a signal +to her? Her head and shoulders were bare, and a slight breeze had +sprung up during the last few minutes. Perhaps she would feel the cold +and go in! Perhaps-- + +He watched her breathlessly. She had abandoned her thoughtful attitude +and was standing upright, looking around her. She looked once at the +window. She was apparently undecided whether to go in or not. Wrayson +prayed then, if he had never prayed before. He didn't know to whom! He +was simply conscious of an intense desire, which seemed somehow +formulated into an appeal. Before he was fully conscious of it, she was +coming down the steps. She stood on the edge of the lawn for a moment, as +though considering; then, carefully raising her skirts in both hands, she +picked her way amongst the flower-beds, coming almost directly towards +him. Glancing round, he saw her objective--a rustic seat under a dark +cedar tree, and he saw, too, that she must pass within a few feet of +where he stood. She walked as one dreaming, or whose thoughts are far +distant, her head thrown back, her eyes half closed. The awakening, when +it came, was sudden enough. + +"Louise," he called to her softly, "Louise!" + +She dropped her skirts. For a moment he feared that she was going +to cry out. + +"Who is that?" she asked sharply. + +"It is I, Herbert Wrayson," he answered. "Don't be afraid. Shall I come +out to you, or will you come down the laurel path?" + +"You!" she murmured. "You!" + +He saw the light in her face, and his voice was hoarse with passion. + +"Come," he cried, "or I must fetch you! Louise! Sweetheart!" + +She came towards him a little timidly, her eyebrows arched, a divine +smile playing about her lips. She stood at the entrance to the laurel +grove and peered a little forward. + +"Where are you?" she asked. "Is it really you? I think that I am a little +afraid! Oh!" + +He took her into his arms with a little laugh of happiness. Time and life +itself stood still. Her feeble remonstrances were swept away in the tide +of his passion. His lips hung burning against hers. + +"My sweetheart!" he murmured. "Thank God you came!"... + +She disengaged herself presently. A clock from the stables was striking. +She counted the hours. + +"Eleven o'clock!" she exclaimed. "Herbert, how long have I been here?" + +"Don't ask me that," he answered. "Only tell me how long you are +going to stay." + +"Not another minute, really," she declared. "They will be sending out +search parties for me directly. And--Herbert--how did you get here?" she +demanded anxiously. + +"I climbed over the wall," he answered cheerfully. "There didn't seem to +be any other way." + +She seemed almost incredulous. + +"Didn't you see any watchmen?" she asked. + +"There was one at the gates," he answered. "I fancied he followed me up +the road, but I gave him the slip all right." + +"Be careful how you go back," she begged. "This place is supposed to be +closely watched." + +"Watched! Why?" he asked. "Are you afraid of robbers?" + +"How much did the Baroness tell you?" she asked. + +"Nothing, except that I should find you here," he declared. "She made me +promise that I would wait for an opportunity of seeing you alone." + +"And why," she asked, "have you come?" + +He took her into his arms again. + +"I have learnt what love is," he murmured, "and I have forgotten the +other things." + +"That is all very well," she laughed, smoothing out her hair; "but the +other things may be very important to me." + +"A man named Stephen Heneage has taken up this Barnes affair," he +answered. "He saw you leave the flats that night, and he is likely, if he +thinks that it might lead to anything, to give the whole show away. He +warned me to get away from England and--but you want the truth, don't +you? All these are excuses! I came because I wanted you!--because I +couldn't live without you, Louise! Couldn't we steal away somewhere and +never go back? Why need we? We could go to Paris to-morrow, catch the +Orient express the next day--I know a dozen hiding-places where we should +be safe enough. We will make our own world and our own life--and forget!" + +"Forget!" She drew a little away from him. Her tone chilled him. +"Herbert," she said, "whatever happens, I must go now--this moment. Where +are you stopping?" + +"The _Lion d'Or_," he answered, "down in the village." + +"I will send a note in the morning," she said eagerly. "Only you must go +now, dear. Some one will be out to look for me, and I cannot think--I +must have a little time to decide. Be very careful as you go back. If you +are stopped, be sure and make them understand that you are an Englishman. +Good night!" + +He kissed her passionately. She yielded to his embrace, but almost +immediately drew herself away. He clutched at her hand, but she eluded +him. With swift footsteps she crossed the lawn. Just as she reached the +terrace, the windows opened once more and some one called her name. + +"I am coming in now," he heard her answer. "It has been such a +wonderful night!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +AN INVITATION TO DINNER + + +The landlord of the _Lion d'Or,_ who had appeared for a moment to chat +with his guests while they took their morning coffee, pointed downwards +into the valley, where little clouds of mist hung over the lowlands. + +"The _messieurs_ will find themselves hot to-day," he remarked. "Here, +only, there will be a breeze. Eleven hundred feet up, and only three +miles from the sea! It is wonderful, eh?" + +Wrayson pointed across towards the chateau, whose towers rose from the +bosom of the cool green woods. + +"There, also," he said, "it will be very pleasant. The chateau is as high +as we are, is it not so?" + +The landlord shrugged his shoulders. + +"There is little difference," he admitted, "and in the woods there is +always shade. But who may go there? Never was an estate kept so zealously +private, and, does monsieur know? Since yesterday a new order has been +issued. The villagers were forbidden even their ancient rights of walking +across the park! The head forester has posted a notice in the village." + +"I have heard something of it," Wrayson admitted. "Has any reason been +given. Are the family in residence there?" + +The landlord shook his head. + +"Madame la Baronne was never so exacting," he replied. "One hears that +she has lent the chateau to friends. Two ladies are there, and one +gentleman. It is all." + +"Do you know who they are?" Wrayson asked. + +The landlord assumed an air of mystery. + +"One," he said, "is a young English lady. The other--well, they call her +Madame de Melbain." + +"What?" + +The exclamation came like a pistol-shot from Wrayson's fellow-guest at +the inn, who, up to now, had taken no part in the conversation. He had +turned suddenly round, and was facing the startled landlord. + +"Madame de Melbain," he repeated. "Monsieur, perhaps, knows the lady?" + +There was a moment's silence. Then the man who had called himself Duncan +looked away, frowning. + +"No!" he said, "I do not know her. The name is familiar, but there is no +lady of my acquaintance bearing it at present." + +The landlord looked a little disappointed. + +"Ah!" he remarked, "I had hoped that monsieur would have been able to +give us a little information. There are many people in the village who +would like to know who this Madame de Melbain is, for it is since her +coming that all has been different. The park has been closed, the +peasants and farmers have received orders forbidding them to accept +boarders at present, and I myself am asked--for a consideration, I +admit--to receive no further guests. Naturally, we ask ourselves, +monsieur, what does it mean? One does not wish to gossip, but there is +much here to wonder at!" + +"What is she like, this Madame de Melbain?" Duncan asked. + +"No one has seen her, monsieur," the landlord answered. "She arrived in +a close carriage, since when she has not passed the lodge gates. She has +her own servants who wait upon her. Without doubt she is a person of some +importance! Possibly, though, she is eccentric. They say that every +entrance to the chateau is guarded, and that a cordon of men are always +watching." + +Wrayson laughed. + +"A little exaggeration, my friend, there, eh?" + +The landlord shrugged his shoulders. + +"One cannot tell," he declared. "This, at least, is singular," he +continued, bending forward confidentially. "Since the arrival of these +two ladies several strangers have been observed about the place, some of +whom have endeavoured to procure lodgings. They spoke French, but they +were not Frenchmen or Englishmen. True, this may be a coincidence, but +one can never tell. Monsieur has any further commands?" + +Monsieur had none, and the landlord withdrew, smiling and bowing. + +Duncan leaned across the table. + +"My French," he said deliberately, "is rotten. I couldn't understand half +of what that fellow said. Do you mind repeating it to me?" + +Wrayson did so, and his companion listened moodily. When he had finished, +Duncan was gazing steadfastly over towards the chateau, and knocking the +ashes from his pipe. + +"Sounds a little feudal, doesn't it?" he remarked, drawing his pouch +from his pocket. "However, I don't suppose it is any concern of yours +or of mine." + +Wrayson made no direct answer. He was fully conscious that his companion +was watching him closely, and he affected to be deeply interested in the +selection of a cigarette. + +"No!" he said at last; "it is no concern of ours, of course. And yet one +cannot help feeling a little interested. I noticed myself that the lodge +gates of the chateau were rather strictly guarded." + +"Very likely," the other answered. "Women of fashion who suffer from +nerves take strange fancies nowadays. This Madame de Melbain is probably +one of these." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Very likely," he admitted. "What are you going to do with +yourself all day?" + +"Loaf! I am going to lie down in the fields there amongst the wild +flowers, in the shade of the woods," Duncan answered; "that is, if +one may take so great a liberty with the woods of madame! This sort +of country rather fascinates me," he added thoughtfully. "I have +lived so long in a land where the vegetation is a jungle and the +flowers are exotics. There is a species of exaggeration about it all. +I find this restful." + +"Africa?" Wrayson asked. + +The other nodded silently. He did not seem inclined to continue the +conversation. + +"You are the second man I have met lately who has come home from Africa," +Wrayson remarked, "and you represent the opposite poles of life." + +"It is very possible," Duncan admitted. "We are a polyglot lot who come +from there." + +"You were in the war, of course?" Wrayson asked. + +"I was in the war," Duncan answered, "almost to the finish. Afterwards I +went into Rhodesia, and incidentally made money. That's all I have to +say about Africa. I hate the country, and I don't want to talk about it. +See you later, I suppose." + +He rose from his chair and stretched himself. Across the lawn the +landlord came hurrying, his face perturbed and uneasy. His bow to Wrayson +was subtly different. Here was perhaps an aristocrat under an assumed +name, a person to be, without doubt, conciliated. + +"Monsieur," he announced, with a little flourish of the white serviette +which, from habit, he was carrying, "there is outside a young lady from +the chateau who is inquiring for you." + +"Which way?" Wrayson demanded anxiously. + +"Monsieur will be pleased to follow me," the landlord answered. + +Louise was alone in a victoria, drawn up before the front door of the +inn. Wrayson saw at once that something had happened to disturb her. Even +under her white veil he knew that she was pale, and that there were rings +under her eyes. She leaned towards him and held out her hand in +conventional manner for the benefit of the landlord, who lingered upon +the steps. + +"Come round to the other side of the carriage, Herbert," she said. "I +have something to say to you. The coachman does not understand English. I +have tried him." + +Wrayson crossed behind the carriage and stood by her side. + +"Herbert," she asked, anxiously, "will you do something for me, something +I want you to do very much?" + +"If I can," he answered simply. + +"You can do this," she declared. "It is very easy. I want you to leave +this place this morning, go away, anywhere! You can go back to London, or +you can travel. Only start this morning." + +"Willingly," he answered, "on one condition." + +"What is it?" she asked quickly. + +"That you go with me," he declared. + +She shook her head impatiently. + +"You know that is not what I mean," she said reproachfully. "I was mad +last night. You took me by surprise and I forgot everything. I was awake +all night. This morning I can see things clearly. Nothing--of that +sort--is possible between you and me. So I want you to go away!" + +He shook his head, gently but firmly. + +"It isn't possible, Louise," he said. "You mustn't ask me to do anything +of that sort after last night. It's too late you see, dear. You belong to +me now. Nothing can alter that." + +"It is not too late," she answered passionately. "Last night was just +an hour of madness. I shall cut it out of my life. You must cut it out +of yours." + +He leaned over till his head nearly touched hers, and under the holland +dust-sheet which covered her knees he gripped her hand. + +"I will not," he answered. "I will not go away. You belong to me, and I +will have you!" + +She looked at him for a moment without speech. Wrayson's features, more +distinguished in a general way by delicacy than strength, had assumed a +curiously set and dogged appearance. His eyes met hers kindly but +mercilessly. He looked like a man who has spoken his last word. + +"Herbert," she murmured, "there are things which you do not know and +which I cannot tell you, but they stand between us! They must stand +between us forever!" + +"Of that," he said, "I mean to be the judge. And until you tell me what +they are, I shall treat them as though they did not exist." + +"I came here," she said, "to ask you, to beg you to go away." + +"Then I am afraid you must write your mission down a failure," he +answered doggedly, "for I refuse to go!" + +Her eyes flashed at him from underneath her veil. He felt the pressure +of her fingers upon his hand. He heard a little sigh--could it have been +of relief? + +"If I failed--" she began. + +"And you have failed," he said decidedly. + +"I was to bring you," she continued, "an invitation to dine to-night at +the chateau. It is only a verbal one, but perhaps you will forgive that." + +The colour streamed into his cheeks. He could scarcely believe his ears. + +"Louise!" he exclaimed, "you mean it?" + +"Yes!" she answered softly. "It would be better for you, better, perhaps, +for me, if you would do as I ask--if you would go away and forget! But if +you will not do that, there is no reason why you should not come to the +chateau. A carriage will arrive for you at seven o'clock." + +"And you will come with me again into the gardens?" he whispered +passionately. + +"Perhaps," she murmured. + +The horses, teased by the flies, tossed their heads, and the jingling of +harness reminded Louise that half the village, from various vantage +points, were watching the interview between the young lady from the +chateau and the visitor at the inn. + +"I must go at once," she said to Wrayson. "About to-night, do not be +surprised at anything you see at the chateau. I have no time to say more. +If you notice anything that seems to you at all unusual, accept it +naturally. I will explain afterwards." + +She spoke a word to the immovable man on the box, and waved her hand to +Wrayson as the horses started forward. They were round the corner in a +moment, and out of sight. Wrayson turned back to the inn, but before he +had taken half a dozen paces he stopped short. He had happened to glance +towards the upper windows of the small hotel, and he caught a sudden +vision of a man's face--a familiar face, transformed, rigid, yet with +staring eyes following the departing carriage. Wrayson himself was +conscious of a quick shock of surprise, followed by a sense of +apprehension. What could there possibly have been in the appearance of +Louise to have brought a look like that into the face of his +fellow-guest? + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +THE MAN IN THE YELLOW BOOTS + + +The two men did not meet again until luncheon-time, Anglicized into a +one-o'clock meal for their benefit. Already seated at the table they +found a short fair man, in the costume of a pedestrian tourist. He wore a +tweed knickerbocker suit, and a knapsack lay upon the grass by his side. +As Wrayson and his fellow-guest arrived almost at the same time, the +newcomer rose and bowed. + +"Good morning, gentlemen!" he said. "I trust you will permit me a seat at +your table. It appears to be the only one." + +Duncan contented himself with a nod. Wrayson felt compelled to be a +little more civil. The man certainly seemed harmless enough. + +"A very delightful spot, gentlemen," he continued, "and a fine, a very +fine church that in the valley. I am spending my holiday taking +photographs of churches of a certain period in this vicinity. I am +looking forward to explore this one." + +"I am afraid," Wrayson remarked, "that I do not know much of +ecclesiastical architecture, but the aesthetic effect of this one, at +least, is very fine." + +The newcomer nodded. + +"You are an artist perhaps, sir?" he asked innocently. + +"I hope so--in some degree," Wrayson answered. + +"Every one is fundamentally an artist, I suppose, who is capable of +appreciating a work of beauty." + +Duncan smiled slightly to himself. So far he had not spoken. + +"It is all new country to me," the newcomer continued, "but from what I +have seen of it, I should think it a grand place for painters. Not much +for the ordinary tourist, eh?" + +"That depends," Wrayson answered, "upon the ordinary tourist." + +"Exactly! Quite so!" the little man agreed. "Of course, if one wanted a +quiet time, what could be better than this? There must be others who +think so besides yourselves." + +"Who?" Wrayson asked. + +"Your fellow-guests here." + +"We have no fellow-guests," Wrayson answered, a little incautiously. + +The newcomer leaned back in his chair with a disconcerted look. + +"Then I wonder why," he exclaimed, "the landlord told me that he had not +a single room." + +Wrayson bit his lip. + +"I fancy," he said, "that he is not in the habit of having people +stay here." + +"I am afraid," the little fair man said, "that it is not an hospitable +village. I tried to get a room elsewhere, but, alas! with no success. +They do not seem to want tourists at St. Etarpe." + +Wrayson looked at the knapsack, at the camera, and at the little man +himself. He spoke English easily, and without any trace of an accent. +His clothes, too, had the look of having come from an English +ready-made shop. Yet there was something about the man himself not +altogether British. + +"I fancy the people are busy getting ready for the harvest," Wrayson +remarked at last. "You will find lots of places as pretty as this along +the coast." + +"Perhaps so," the visitor admitted, "and yet when one has taken a fancy +to a place, it seems a pity to have to leave it so soon. You couldn't +speak a word to the landlord for me, sir, I suppose--you or your friend. +I don't fancy he understood my French very well." + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I'm afraid it wouldn't be any use," he said. "As a matter of fact, I +know that he does not intend to take any more visitors. He has not the +staff to deal with them." + +"It is a pity," the little man said dejectedly. "I think that I must try +again in the village. By the by, sir, perhaps you can tell me to whom the +chateau there belongs?" + +"Madame la Baronne de Sturm," Wrayson answered. "At least, so our host +told me yesterday." + +"It is a very beautiful place--very beautiful," the tourist said +reverently. "I dare say there is a chapel there, too! Can one gain +admission there, do you know, sir?" + +Wrayson laid down his knife and fork. + +"Look here," he said good-humouredly, "I'm not a guide-book, you know, +and I only arrived here yesterday myself. You've reached the limit of my +information. You had better try the landlord. He will tell you all that +you want to know." + +Duncan pushed his chair back. He had eaten very little luncheon, but he +was filling his pipe preparatory to leaving the table. As soon as it +began to draw, he rose and turned to Wrayson. The little tourist he +absolutely ignored, as he had done all the time during the meal. + +"I should like a word with you before you go out," he said. + +Wrayson nodded, and followed him in a few minutes to the summer-house at +the end of the lawn. Duncan did not beat about the bush. + +"That little brute over there," he said, inclining his head towards the +table, "is neither an Englishman nor a tourist. I have seen him before, +and I never forget a face." + +"What is he then?" Wrayson asked. + +"Heaven knows what he is now," Duncan answered. "I saw him last at +Colenso, where he narrowly escaped being shot for a spy. He is either a +Dutchman or a German, and whatever he may be up to here, I'll swear +ecclesiastical architecture is not his game." + +There was a moment's silence. Wrayson had turned involuntarily towards +the chateau, and Duncan had followed suit. They both looked up the +broad green avenue to where the windows of the great building flashed +back the sunlight. At the same moment their mutual action was realized +by both of them. + +Wrayson first turned away and glanced round at the table which they had +just quitted. The little man, who was still seated there, had lit a cigar +and was talking to the waiter. He looked back again and moved his head +thoughtfully in the direction of the chateau. + +"He asked questions about the chateau," Wrayson remarked. "Do you suppose +that there can be anything going on there to interest him?" + +"You should know better than I," Duncan answered. "You received a visit +this morning from one of the two ladies who are staying there." + +Wrayson turned a little pale. He looked at Duncan steadily for a moment. +A giant in height, his features, too, were of a large and resolute type. +His eyes were clear and truthful; his expression, notwithstanding a +certain gloom which scarcely accorded with his years and apparent +health, was unmistakably honest. Wrayson felt instinctively that he was +to be trusted. + +"Look here," he said, "I should like to tell you the truth--as much of it +as is necessary. I happen to know that the young lady with whom you saw +me talking this morning, and who is a friend of the Baroness de Sturm's, +is suspected in certain quarters of being implicated in a--criminal +affair which took place recently in London. I myself, in a lesser degree, +am also under suspicion. I came over here to warn her." + +Duncan was looking very grave indeed. + +"In a criminal affair," he repeated. "That is a little vague." + +"I am sorry," Wrayson answered, "but I cannot very well be more +explicit. The matter is one in which a good many other people are +concerned, and I might add that it is a hopeless mystery to me. All I +know is that a crime was committed; that this young lady was present +under suspicious circumstances; that I, in certain evidence I had to +give, concealed the fact of her presence; and that now a third person +turns up, who also knew of the young lady's presence, but who was not +called upon to give evidence, who is working on his own account to clear +up the whole affair. He happens to be a friend of mine, and he warned me +frankly to clear out." + +"I am beginning to follow you," Duncan said thoughtfully. "Now what +about Madame de Melbain?" + +"I know absolutely nothing of her," Wrayson answered. "I found out where +the young lady was from the Baroness de Sturm, with whom she was living +in London, and I came over to warn her." + +"The young lady was living with the Baroness de Sturm?" Duncan repeated. +"Is she, then, an orphan?" + +"No!" Wrayson answered. "She is, for some reason--I do not know +why--estranged from her family. Now the question arises, has this fellow +here come over to track her down? Is he an English detective?" + +Duncan turned deliberately round and stared at the person whom they were +discussing. + +"I should doubt it very much," he answered. "For my part, I don't believe +for a moment that he is an Englishman at all." + +"I am very glad to hear you say so," Wrayson declared. "But the question +is, if he is not on this business, what the devil is he doing here?" + +"Have you the _entree_ to the chateau?" Duncan asked abruptly. + +"I am invited to dine there this evening," Wrayson answered. + +"Then, if I were you," Duncan said, "I should make a point of +ascertaining, if you can, the personality of this Madame de Melbain." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"I shall see her, of course," he said, "and I will do so." + +"My own idea," Duncan said deliberately, "is that it is in connection +with her presence here that the landlord of the inn and the villagers +have received these injunctions about strangers. Try and find out what +you can about her, and in the meantime I will look after the gentleman +over there. He wants to be friendly--I will make a companion of him. When +you come back to-night we will have another talk." + +"It's awfully good of you," Wrayson said. "And now--I've one thing +more to say." + +Duncan nodded. + +"Go on," he said. + +"I have taken you into my confidence so far as was possible," Wrayson +said slowly. "I am going to ask you a question now." + +"I cannot promise to answer it," Duncan declared, taking up his pipe and +carefully refilling it. + +"Naturally! But I am going to ask it," Wrayson said. "An hour or so ago I +was talking to the young lady in front of the inn, and you were watching +us. I saw your face at the window as she was driving off." + +"Well?" + +The monosyllable was hard and dry. + +"You are neither an inquisitive nor an emotional person," Wrayson said. +"I am sure of that. I want an explanation." + +"Of what?" + +"Of your suddenly becoming both!" + +Duncan had lit his pipe now, and smoked for a few moments furiously. + +"I will not bandy words with you," he said at last. "You want an +explanation which I cannot give." + +Wrayson looked as he felt, dissatisfied. + +"Look here," he said, "I'm not asking for your confidence. I'm simply +asking you to explain why the sight of that young lady should be a matter +of emotion to you. You know who she is, I am convinced. What else?" + +Duncan shook his head. + +"I'm sorry," he said. "You may trust me or not, as you like. All I can +say about myself is this. I've been up against it hard--very hard. So far +as regards the ordinary affairs of life I simply don't count. I'm a +negation--a purely subjective personage. I may be able to help you a +little here--I shall certainly never be in your way. My interest in the +place--there, I will tell you that--is purely of a sentimental nature. My +interest in life itself is something of the same sort. Take my advice. +Let it go at that." + +"I will," Wrayson declared, with sudden heartiness. + +Duncan nodded. + +"I'll go and look after our little friend in the yellow boots," he said. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +MADAME DE MELBAIN + + +Punctually at half-past seven the carriage arrived to take Wrayson to the +chateau. A few minutes' drive along a road fragrant with the perfume of +hay, and with the pleasant sound of the reaping machines in his ears, and +the carriage turned into the park through the great iron gates, which +opened this time without demur. By the side of the road was a clear trout +stream, a little further away a herd of deer stood watching the carriage +pass. The park was uncultivated but picturesque, becoming more wooded as +they climbed the hill leading to the chateau. Wrayson smiled to himself +as he remembered that this magnificent home and estate belonged to the +woman who was his neighbour at Battersea, and whom he himself had been +more than half inclined to put down as an adventuress. + +A major-domo in quiet black clothes, who seemed to reflect in his tone +and manner the subdued splendour of the place, received him at the door, +passing him on at once to a footman in powdered hair and resplendent +livery. Across a great hall, whose white stone floor, height, and +stained-glass windows gave Wrayson the impression that he had found his +way by mistake into the nave of a cathedral, he was ushered into a +drawing-room, whose modernity and comparatively low ceiling were almost a +relief. Here there were books and flowers and music, some exquisite +water-colours upon the white walls, newspapers and magazines lying about, +which gave the place a habitable air. A great semicircular window +commanded a wonderful view of the park, but Wrayson had little time to +admire it. A door was opened at the further end of the room, and he heard +the soft rustling of a woman's gown upon the carpet. It was Louise who +came towards him. + +She was dressed in white muslin, unrelieved by ornament or any suggestion +of colour. Her cheeks were unusually pale, and the shadows under her eyes +seemed to speak of trouble. Yet Wrayson thought that he had never seen +her look more beautiful. She gave him her hand with a faint smile of +welcome, and permitted him to raise it to his lips. + +"This is very, very foolish," she said softly, "and I know that I ought +to be ashamed of myself." + +"On the contrary," he answered, "I think that it is very natural. But, +seriously, I feel a little overpowered. You won't want to live always in +a castle, will you, Louise?" + +She sighed, and smiled, and sighed again. + +"I am afraid that our castle, Herbert," she murmured, "will exist only in +the air! But listen. I must speak to you before the others come in." + +"I am all attention," he assured her. + +"It is about Madame de Melbain," she began, a little hesitatingly. + +He waited for her to continue. She seemed to be in some difficulty. + +"I want you to watch and do just what we others do," she said, "and not +to be surprised if some of our arrangements seem a little curious. For +instance, although she is the elder, do not give her your arm for +dinner. She will go in first alone, and you must take me." + +"I can assure you," Wrayson said, smiling, "that I shall make no +difficulty about that." + +"And she doesn't like to be talked to very much," Louise continued. + +"I will humour her in that also," Wrayson promised. "She is a good sort +to let me come here at all." + +"She is very kind and very considerate," Louise said, "and her life has +been a very unhappy one." + +Wrayson moved his chair a little nearer. + +"Need we talk about her any more?" he asked. "There is so much I want to +say to you about ourselves." + +She looked at him for a moment, a little sadly, a little wistfully. + +"Ah! don't," she murmured. "Don't talk about definite things at all. For +to-night--to-night only, let us drift!" + +He smiled at her reassuringly. + +"Don't be afraid," he said. "I am not going to ask you any questions. I +am not going to ask for any explanations. I think that we have passed all +that. It is of the future I wanted to speak." + +"Don't," she begged softly. "Of the past I dare not think, nor of the +future. It is only the present which belongs to us." + +"The present and the future," he answered firmly. + +She rose suddenly to her feet, and Wrayson instinctively followed her +example. They were no longer alone. Two women, who had entered by a door +at the further end of the apartment, were slowly approaching them. The +foremost was tall and dark, a little slim, perhaps, but with an elegant +figure, and a carriage of singular dignity. Her face was youthful, and +her brown eyes were soft and clear as the eyes of a girl, but her dark +hair was plentifully streaked with grey, and there was about her whole +appearance an air of repressed sadness. + +"This is Mr. Wrayson, is it not?" she asked, in a very sweet voice, but +with a strong foreign accent. "We have so few visitors that one can +scarcely make a mistake. You are very welcome." + +She did not offer to shake hands, and Wrayson contented himself with +a low bow. + +"You are very kind," he murmured. + +"Monsieur le Baron," she remarked, turning to an elderly gentleman who +had just entered, "will doubtless find your coming pleasant. The +entertainment of three ladies must have seemed at times a little trying. +Let me make you gentlemen known to one another, Monsieur Wrayson, +Monsieur le Baron de Courcelles. And Ida," she added, turning to her +companion, who had moved a few steps apart, "permit that I present to +you, also, Mr. Wrayson--Mademoiselle de Courcelles." + +The conversation for a moment or two followed the obvious lines. Madame +de Melbain and Louise had drawn a little apart; a few remarks as to the +beauty of the chateau and its situation passed between Wrayson and the +Baron. The name of its owner was mentioned, and Wrayson indicated his +acquaintance with her. At the sound of her name, Madame de Melbain +turned somewhat abruptly round, and seemed to be listening; but at that +moment the door was thrown open, and the major-domo of the household, +who had received Wrayson, announced dinner. He directly addressed Madame +de Melbain. + +"Madame is served," he murmured respectfully. + +The little procession arranged itself as Louise had intimated. Madame de +Melbain led the way, ushered by the major-domo and followed immediately +by the Baron and Mademoiselle de Courcelles. Wrayson, with Louise, +brought up the rear. They crossed the white flagged hall and entered an +apartment which Wrayson, although his capacity for wonder was +diminishing, felt himself compelled to pause and admire. It was of great +height, and again the curiously shaped windows were filled with stained +glass. The oak-panelled walls, black with age, were hung with portraits, +sombre and yet vivid, and upon a marble pedestal at the end of the room, +lifelike, and untouched by the centuries, stood a wonderful presentation +of Ralph de St. Etarpe, the founder of the house, clad in the armour of +his days. The dinner table, with its brilliant and modern appurtenances +of flowers and plate, standing in the middle of the floor, seemed like a +minute and yet startling anachronism. The brilliant patches of scarlet +geranium, the deep blue livery of the two footmen, the glitter of the +Venetian glass upon the table, were like notes of alien colour amongst +surroundings whose chief characteristic was a magnificent restraint, and +yet such dignity as it was possible to impart into the everyday business +of eating and drinking was certainly manifest in the meal, which +presently took its leisurely course. + +Wrayson, although no one could accuse him of a lack of _savoir faire_, +found himself scarcely at his ease. Madame de Melbain; erect; dignified, +and beautiful, sat at the head of the table, and although she addressed +a remark to each of them occasionally, she remained always +unapproachable. The Baron made only formal attempts at conversation, and +Mademoiselle de Courcelles was absolutely silent. Wrayson was unable to +divest himself of the feeling of representing an alien presence amongst a +little community drawn closely together by some mysterious tie. Louise +was his only link with them, and to Louise he decided to devote himself +entirely, regardless of the apparent demands of custom. His position at +the table enabled him to do this, and very soon he discovered that it was +precisely what was expected of him. The conversation between the others, +such as it was, lapsed into German, or some kindred tongue. Wrayson found +himself able presently to talk confidentially with Louise. + +"Remember," he said, after a slight pause, "that I have finished +altogether with the role of investigator. I no longer have any curiosity +about anything. Still, I think that there is something which I ought to +tell you." + +She smiled. + +"You may tell me as much as you like," she said, "as long as you don't +ask questions." + +"Exactly! Well, there is another Englishman staying at the _Lion d'Or._ +He appears to be a decent fellow, and a gentleman. I am not going to talk +about him. I imagine that he is harmless." + +"We have heard of him," Louise murmured. "It certainly appears as though +he were only an ordinary tourist. Has any one else arrived?" + +"Yes!" Wrayson answered, "some one else has arrived, and I want to tell +you about him." + +Louise was obviously disturbed. She refused a course a little +impatiently, and turned towards Wrayson anxiously. + +"But the landlord," she said in a low tone, "has orders to receive no +more guests." + +"This man arrived to luncheon to-day," Wrayson answered. "The landlord +could not refuse him that. He wished for a room and was told that he +could not be taken in." + +"Well, who is he, what is he like?" she demanded. + +"He is a miserable sort of bounder--an imitation cockney tourist, with +ready-made English clothes, a knapsack, and a camera. I should have felt +suspicious about him myself, but the other fellow whom I told you about, +who is staying at the inn, recognized him. He had seen him abroad, and +what he told me seems decisive. I am afraid that he is a spy." + +Wrayson cursed himself for a moment that he had been so outspoken, for +the girl by his side seemed almost on the point of collapse. Her eyes +were full of fear, and she clutched at the tablecloth as though overcome +with a spasm of terror. + +"Don't be alarmed," Wrayson whispered in her ear. "I am sure, I am quite +sure that he is not here for what you may fear. I don't believe he is an +Englishman at all." + +The girl recovered herself amazingly. + +"I was not thinking of myself," she said quietly; and Wrayson noticed +that her eyes were fixed upon the pale, distinguished face of the woman +who sat with a certain air of isolation at the head of the table. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE SPY + + +Wrayson found himself a few minutes later alone with the Baron, who, with +some solemnity, rose and took the chair opposite to him. Conversation +between them, however, languished, for the Baron spoke only in +monosyllables, and his attitude gave Wrayson the idea that he viewed his +presence at the chateau with disfavour. With stiff punctiliousness, he +begged Wrayson to try some wonderful Burgundy, and passed a box of +cigarettes. He did not, however, open any topic of conversation, and +Wrayson, embarrassed in his choice of subjects by the fact that any +remark he could make might sound like an attempt at gratifying his +curiosity, remained also silent. In a very few minutes the Baron rose. + +"You will take another glass of wine, sir?" he asked. + +Wrayson rose too with alacrity, and bowed his refusal. They recrossed the +great hall and entered the drawing-room. Louise and Madame de Melbain +were talking earnestly together in a corner, and from the look that the +latter threw at him as they entered, Wrayson was convinced that in some +way he was concerned with the subject of their conversation. It was a +look deliberate and scrutinizing, in a sense doubtful, and yet not +unkindly. Behind it all, Wrayson felt that there was something which he +could not understand, there was something of the mystery in those dark +sad eyes which seemed to pervade the whole atmosphere of the place and +the lives of these people. + +Louise rose as he approached and motioned him to take her vacated place. + +"Madame de Melbain would like to talk to you for a few moments," she said +quietly. "Afterwards will you come on to the terrace?" + +She swept away through the open window, and was at once followed by the +Baron. Mademoiselle de Courcelles was playing very softly on a grand +piano in an unseen corner of the apartment. Wrayson and his hostess +were alone. + +She turned towards him with a faint smile. She spoke with great +deliberation, but very clearly, and there was in her voice some hidden +quality, indefinable in words, yet both musical and singularly +attractive. + +"I shall not keep you very long, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Louise has been +talking to me about you. She is happy, I think, to have found a friend so +chivalrous and so discerning." + +Wrayson smiled doubtfully as he answered. + +"It is very little that I have been able to do for her," he said. "My +complaint is that she will not give me the opportunity of doing more." + +"You are too modest," Madame de Melbain said slowly. "Louise has told me +a good deal. I think that you have been a very faithful friend." + +Wrayson bowed but said nothing. If Madame de Melbain had anything to +say to him, he preferred to afford her the opportunity of an +attentive silence. + +"Louise and I," Madame de Melbain continued, "were school friends. So +you see that I have known her all my life. She has had her troubles, as +I have! Only mine are a righteous judgment upon me, and hers she has +done nothing to deserve. It is the burden of others which she fastens +upon her back." + +Wrayson felt instinctively that his continued silence was what she most +desired. She was speaking to him, but her eyes had travelled far away. It +was as though she had come into touch with other and greater things. + +"Louise has not told me everything," she continued. "There is much that +she will not confess. So it is necessary, Mr. Wrayson, that I ask you a +question. Do you care for her?" + +"I do!" Wrayson answered simply. + +"You wish to marry her?" + +"To-morrow, if she would!" + +Madame de Melbain leaned a little forward. Her cheeks were still entirely +colourless, but some spark of emotion glittered in her full dark eyes. + +"You will be alone with her presently. Try and persuade her to marry you +at once. There is nothing but an absurd scruple between you! Remember +that always." + +"It is a scruple which up till now has been too strong for me," Wrayson +remarked quietly. + +She measured him with her eyes, as though making a deliberate estimate of +his powers. + +"A man," she said, "should be able to do much with the woman whom he +cares for--the woman who cares for him." + +"If I could believe that," he murmured. + +She shrugged her shoulders slightly. He understood the gesture. + +"You are right," he declared, with more confidence. "I will do my best." + +She moved her head slowly, a sign of assent, also of dismissal. He rose +to his feet. + +"Louise is on the terrace," she said. "Will you give me your arm? The +Baron is there also. We will join them." + +They stepped through the high French windows on to the carpeted terrace. +It seemed to Wrayson that they had passed into a veritable land of +enchantment. The service of dinner had been a somewhat leisurely affair, +and the hour was already late. The moon was slowly rising behind the +trees, but the landscape was at present wrapped in the soft doubtful +obscurity of a late twilight. The flowers, with whose perfume the air was +faintly fragrant, remained unseen, or visible only in blurred outline; +the tall trees, whose tops were unstirred by even the slightest breeze, +stood out like silent sentinels against the violet sky. Madame de Melbain +stopped short upon the threshold of the terrace, with head slightly +thrown back, and half-closed eyes. + +"Suzanne was right," she murmured, "there is peace here--peace, if only +it would last!" + +The Baron came hastily forward. He seemed to be eyeing Wrayson a little +doubtfully. Madame de Melbain pointed down the avenue. + +"I think," she said, "that it would be pleasant to walk for a little +way. Give me your arm, Baron. We will go first. Mr. Wrayson will follow +with Louise." + +They descended the steps, crossed the lawn, and through a gate into the +broad grass-grown avenue, cut through the woods to the road. Wrayson at +first was silent, and Louise seemed a little nervous. More than once she +started at the sound of a rabbit scurrying through the undergrowth. +There was something a little mysterious about the otherwise profound +silence of the impenetrable woods. Even their footsteps fell noiselessly +upon the spongy turf. + +Wrayson spoke at last. They had fallen sufficiently far behind the others +to be out of earshot. + +"Do you know what Madame de Melbain has been saying to me?" he asked. + +Louise turned her head a little. There was the faintest flicker of a +smile about her lips. + +"I cannot imagine," she declared, looking once more straight ahead. + +"She has been inciting me to bold deeds," Wrayson said. "How should you +like to be carried off in mediaeval fashion--married, willing or +unwilling?" + +"Is that what Madame de Melbain has been recommending you to do?" +she asked. + +He nodded. + +"Yes! And I am thinking of taking her advice," he said coolly. + +She laughed quietly, yet his ears were quick, and he caught the note of +sadness which a moment later crept into her eyes. + +"It would solve so much that is troublesome, wouldn't it?" she remarked. +"May I ask if that has been the sole topic of your conversation?" + +"Absolutely! Louise! Dear!" + +She turned a little towards him. His voice was compelling. The fingers of +her hand closed readily enough upon his, and the soft touch thrilled him. + +"You have some fancy in your brain," he said, in a low, passionate +whisper. "It is nothing but a fancy, I am assured. You have heard what +your own friend has advised. You don't doubt that I love you, Louise, +that I want to make you happy." + +She leaned a little towards him. A sudden wave of abandonment seemed to +have swept over her. He drew her face to his and kissed her with a sudden +passion. Her lips met his soft and unresisting. Already he felt the song +of triumph in his heart. She was his! She could never be anybody else's +now. Very softly she disengaged herself. The other two were still in +sight, and already the curve of the moon was creeping over the trees. + +"Don't spoil it," she murmured. "Don't talk of to-morrow, or the future! +We have to-night."... + +There followed minutes of which he took no count, and then of a sudden +her hand clutched his arm. + +"Listen," she whispered hoarsely. + +He came suddenly down to earth. They were walking in the shadow of the +trees, close to the side of the wood, and their footsteps upon the soft +turf were noiseless. Wrayson almost held his breath as he leaned towards +the dark chaos of the thickly planted trees. Only a few yards away he +could distinctly hear the dry snapping of twigs. Some one was keeping +pace with them inside the wood, now he could see the stooping figure of +a man creeping stealthily along. A little exclamation broke from +Louise's lips. + +"It is a spy after all," she muttered. "They said that every entrance to +the place was guarded." + +Wrayson had time to take only one quick step towards the wood, when a +shrill cry rang out upon the still night. Then there was the trampling +under foot of bushes and undergrowth, the sound of men's voices, one +English and threatening, the other guttural and terrified. Madame de +Melbain and her escort had paused and were looking back. Louise was +moving towards them, and Wrayson was on the point of entering the wood. +Into the little semicircle formed by these four people there suddenly +strode Wrayson's friend from the inn, grasping by the collar a shrinking +and protesting figure in a much dishevelled tweed suit. + +"We were right, Mr. Wrayson," the former remarked quietly. "This fellow +has been spying round all day. You had better ask your friends what they +wish done with him." + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +THE SCENE IN THE AVENUE + + +There followed a few minutes of somewhat curious silence. At the first +sound of the voice of the man who had made so startling an appearance in +their midst, a cry, only half suppressed, had broken from Madame de +Melbain's lips. She had moved impulsively a little forward; the moon, +visible now from over the tree tops, was shining faintly upon her +absolutely colourless face and dilated eyes. For some reason she seemed +terror-stricken, both she and Louise, who was clinging now to her arm. +Neither of them seemed even to have glanced at the cowering figure of the +man, who had relapsed now into a venomous silence. Both of them were +gazing at his captor, and upon their faces was the strangest expression +which Wrayson had ever seen on any human features. It was as though they +stood upon the edge of the world and peered downwards, into the forbidden +depths; as though they suddenly found themselves in the presence of a +thing so wonderful that thought and speech alike were chained. Wrayson +involuntarily followed the direction of their rapt gaze. The stranger +certainly presented a somewhat formidable appearance. He was standing +upon slightly higher ground, and the massive proportions of his tall, +powerful figure stood out with almost startling distinctness against the +empty background. His face was half in the shadow, yet it seemed to +Wrayson that some touch of the mystery which was quivering in the drawn +face of the two women was also reflected in his dimly seen features. +Something indefinable was in the air, something so mysterious and +wonderful, that voices seemed stricken dumb, and life itself suspended. +An owl flew slowly out from the wood with ponderous flapping of wings, +and sailed over their heads. Every one started: Madame de Melbain gave a +half-stifled shriek. The strain was over. Louise and she were half +sobbing now in one another's arms. + +"I will leave this fellow to be dealt with as the owners of the chateau +may direct," the stranger said stiffly, turning to Wrayson. "You can tell +them all that we know about him." + +He turned on his heel, but the Baron laid his hand upon his shoulder and +peered into his face inquisitively. + +"_We_ should like to know," he said, "whom we have to thank for the +capture of this intruder!" + +"I am a stranger here, and to all of you," was the quiet answer. "You owe +me no thanks. I have seen something of this fellow before," he added, +pointing to his captive, who was now standing sullenly in the centre of +the group. "I felt sure that he was up to no good, and I watched him." + +For the first time the fair-haired little tourist, who had been dragged +so submissively into their midst, suffered a gleam of intelligence to +appear in his face. He changed his position so that he could see his +captor better. + +"Ah!" he muttered, "you have seen me before, eh? And I you, perhaps! Let +me think! Was it--" + +Wrayson's friend leaned a little forwards, and with the careless ease of +one flicking away a fly, he struck the speaker with the back of his hand +across the face. The blow was not a particularly severe one, but its +victim collapsed upon the turf. + +"Look here," his assailant said, standing for a moment over him, "you can +go on and finish your sentence if you like. I only want to warn you, that +if you do, I will break every bone in your body, one by one, the next +time we meet. Go on, if you think it worth while." + +The man on the ground was dumb, because he was afraid. But the same +thought presented itself to all of them. The Baron, who was least of all +affected, expressed it. + +"Perhaps, sir," he said, "you will not object to telling me--the Baron de +Courcelles--whom we have to thank for the discovery of this--intruder!" + +Wrayson's friend edged a little away. There was no response in his manner +to the courtesy with which the Baron had sought to introduce himself. + +"You have nothing to thank me for," he said shortly. "My name would be +quite unknown to you, and I am leaving this part of the world at once. +Permit me to wish you good evening!" + +He had already turned on his heel when Madame de Melbain's voice +arrested him. Clear and peremptory, the first words which had passed her +lips since the surprise had come to them, seemed somehow to introduce a +new note into an atmosphere from which an element of tragedy had never +been lacking. + +"Please stop!" + +He turned and faced her with obvious unwillingness. She stretched out her +hand as though forbidding him to go, but addressed at the same time the +two men, apparently gamekeepers, who had suddenly emerged from the wood. + +"Monsieur Robert," she said, "we have caught this man trespassing in the +woods here, notwithstanding the precautions which I understood you had +taken. Take him away at once, if you please. I trust that you will be +able to hand him over to the gendarmes." + +Monsieur Robert, the steward of the estates, an elderly man, whose face +was twitching with anxiety, stepped forward with a low bow. + +"Madame," he said, "we had word of this intrusion. We were even now upon +the track of this ruffian. There was another, also, who climbed the +wall--ah! I see him! The Englishman there!" + +"He is our friend," Madame de Melbain said. "You must not interfere +with him." + +"As Madame wills! Come, you rascal," he added, gripping his prisoner by +the shoulder. "We will show you what it means to climb over walls and +trespass on the estate of Madame la Baronne. Come then!" + +The intruder accepted the situation with the most philosophic calm. Only +one remark he ventured to make as he was led off. + +"It is not hospitable, this! I only wished to see the chateau by +moonlight!" + +Wrayson's fellow guest at the _Lion d'Or_ turned to follow them. + +"The fellow might try to escape," he muttered; but again Madame de +Melbain called to him. + +"You must not go away," she said, "yet!" + +Then she moved forward with smooth, deliberate footsteps, yet with +something almost supernatural in her white face and set, dilated eyes. It +was as though she were looking once more through the windows of the +world, as though she could see the figures of dead men playing once more +their part in the game of life. And she looked always at the Englishman. + +"Listen," she said, "there is something about you, sir, which I do not +understand. Who are you, and where do you come from?" + +He made no answer. Only he held out his hand as though to keep her away, +and drew a little further back. + +"You shall not escape," she continued, the words leaving her lips with a +sort of staccato incisiveness, crisp and emotional. "No! you are here, +and you shall answer. Who are you who come here to mock us all; because +it is a dead man who speaks with your voice, and looks with your eyes? +You will not dare to say that you are Duncan Fitzmaurice!" + +The figure in the shadows seemed to loom larger and larger. He was no +longer shrinking away. + +"I know nothing of the man of whom you speak!" he declared. "I am a +wanderer. I have no name and no home." + +Madame de Melbain reeled and would have fallen. Then for a moment events +seemed to leap forward. White and fainting, she lay in the arms of the +man who had sprung to her succour, yet through her half-opened eyes there +flashed a strange and wonderful light--a light of passionate and amazing +content. He held her, almost roughly, for several moments, yet his lips +were pressed to hers with a tenderness almost indescribable. No one of +the little group moved. Wrayson felt simply that events, impossible for +him to understand, had marched too quickly for him. He stood like a man +in a dream, whose limbs are rigid, whose brain alone is working. And the +others, too, seemed to have become part of a silent and wonderful +tableau. For years after Wrayson carried with him the memory of those few +minutes,--the perfume from the woods, faint but penetrating; the shadowy +light, the passionate faces of the man and the woman, the woman yielding +to a beautiful dream, and the man to a moment of divine madness. +Movement, when it came, came from the principal actors in that wonderful +scene. Madame de Melbain was alone, supported in Louise's arms, the +Englishman's heavy footsteps were already audible, crashing through the +undergrowth. Louise pointed to the wood and called out to Wrayson: + +"Follow him! Don't let him out of your sight! Quick!" + +Wrayson turned and sped down the avenue. When he reached the wall, he +stood there and waited. Presently Duncan came crashing through the +wood and vaulted the wall. Wrayson met him in the middle of the hard +white road. + +"We will walk back to the _Lion d'Or_ together," he said calmly, "I have +a few things to say to you!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +A SUBSTANTIAL GHOST + + +Monsieur Jules, of the _Lion d'Or,_ was in a state of excitement +bordering upon frenzy. Events were happening indeed with him, this placid +August weather. First the occupancy of the chateau by the mysterious +lady, and the subsequent edict of the steward against all strangers; then +the coming of this tourist yesterday, who had gone for an evening stroll +without paying his bill, and was now a prisoner of the law, Heaven only +knew on what charge! Added to this--a matter of excitement enough +surely--the giant Englishman, who had been his guest for nearly three +weeks--a model guest too,--had departed at a minute's notice, though not, +the saints be praised, without paying his bill. And now, though the hour +was yet scarcely nine o'clock, a carriage with steaming horses was +standing at his door, and the beautiful young English lady was herself +inside his inn. He was indeed conducting her down the grey stone passage +out on to the rose-bordered garden, which was the pride of his heart, and +where monsieur, the remaining Englishman, was smoking his morning +cigarette. + +She barely waited until Monsieur Jules had bowed himself out of hearing +distance. She looked at Wrayson, at the table laid for one only, and at +the empty garden. + +"Where is he--your friend?" she demanded breathlessly. + +"Gone," Wrayson answered. "I am sorry, but I did my best. He went away +at daylight. I saw him off, but I could not keep him." + +"Where to?" she asked. "You know that, at least." + +He pointed towards the distant coast line. + +"In that direction! That is all I know." + +"He told you nothing before he went?" she asked eagerly. + +"Nothing at all," he answered. "He refused to discuss what had happened. +Sit down, Louise," he added firmly. "I want to talk to you." + +He placed a chair for her under the trees. She sank into it a +little wearily. + +"A certain measure of ignorance," he said, "I am willing to put up with, +but when you exhibit such extraordinary interest in another man, I +really feel that my limit has been reached. Who is he, Louise? You must +tell me, please!" + +"I wish I could tell you," she answered. "I wish I could say that I knew. +Half the night the three of us have talked and wondered. I have heard +plenty of theories as to a second life on some imaginary planet, but I +never heard of the dead who lived again here, in this world!" + +He looked puzzled. + +"Do you mean," he asked, "that he was like some one whom you believed +to be dead?" + +She was silent for a moment. The sun was hot even where they sat, but he +fancied that he saw her shiver. She looked into his face, and something +of the terror of the night before was in her eyes. + +"To us," she said slowly, "to Madame de Melbain and to me, he was a +ghost, an actual apparition. He spoke to us with the voice of one whom +we know to be dead. He came to us, in his form." + +Wrayson looked across at her with a quiet smile. + +"There was nothing of the ghost about Duncan!" he remarked. "I should +consider him a remarkably substantial person. Don't you think that we +were all a little overwrought last night? A strong likeness and a little +imagination will often work wonders." + +"If it was a likeness only," she said, "why did he leave us so abruptly, +why has he left this place at a moment's notice to avoid us?" + +Wrayson was silent for a few seconds. + +"Look here," he said, "this is a matter of common sense after all. If you +were _not_ deceived by a likeness, it was the man himself! That goes +without saying. What reasons had you for supposing that he was dead?" + +"The newspapers, the War Office, even the return of his effects." + +"From where?" Wrayson asked. + +"From South Africa. He was shot through the lungs in Natal!" + +"Men have turned up before, after having been reported dead," he remarked +sententiously. + +"But he was in the army," she replied. "Don't you see that if he was +alive now, he would be a deserter. He has never rejoined. He was +certified as having died in the hospital at Ladysmith!" + +Wrayson looked steadily into her agitated face. + +"Supposing," he said, "that he turned out to be the man whom you have in +your mind, what is he to you?" + +"My brother," she answered simply. + +Wrayson's first impulse was of surprise. Then he drew a long breath of +relief. He looked back upon his long hours of anxiety, and cursed himself +for a fool. + +"What an idiot I have been!" he declared. "Of course, I know that you +lost a brother in South Africa. But--but what about Madame de Melbain?" + +"Madame de Melbain and my brother were friends," she said quietly. "There +were obstacles or they would have been more than friends." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Now supposing," he said, "that, by some miracle, your brother +still lived, that this was he, is there any reason why he should +avoid you both?" + +She thought for a moment. + +"Yes!" she said slowly, "there is." + +"I suppose," he continued tentatively, "you couldn't tell me all +about it?" + +"I couldn't," she answered. "It isn't my secret." + +Wrayson looked for a moment away from her, across the valley with its +flower-spangled meadows, parted by that sinuous poplar-fringed line of +silver, the lazy, slow-flowing river stealing through the quiet land to +the sea. The full summer heat was scarcely yet in the air, but already a +faint blue haze was rising from the lowlands. Up on the plateau, where +they were sitting, a slight breeze stirred amongst the trees; Monsieur +Jules had indeed some ground for his pride in this tiny sylvan paradise. + +"I think," he said, "that for one day we will forget all this tangle of +secrets and unaccountable doings. What do you say, Louise?" he whispered, +taking her unresisting hand into his. "May I tell Monsieur Jules to serve +breakfast for two in the arbour there?" + +She laughed softly into his face. There was the look in her eyes which +he loved to see, half wistful, half content, almost happy. + +"But you are never satisfied," she declared. "If I give you a day, a +whole precious day out of my valuable life--" + +"They belong to me, all of them," he declared, bending over her till his +lips touched her cheek. "Some day I am very sure that I shall take them +all into my charge." + +She disengaged herself from his embrace with a sudden start. Wrayson +turned his head. Within a yard or two of them, Madame de Melbain had +paused in the centre of the little plot of grass. She was looking at them +from underneath her lace parasol, with faintly uplifted eyebrows, and the +dawn of a smile upon her beautiful lips. Louise sprang to her feet, and +Wrayson followed her example. Madame de Melbain lowered her parasol as +though to shut out the sight of the two. + +"May I come on?" she asked. "I want to speak to Louise, although I am +afraid I am shockingly _de trop._" + +Wrayson had an idea, and acted upon it promptly. + +"Madame de Melbain," he said, "I believe that you have some influence +with Louise, I am sure that you are one of those who sympathize with the +unfortunate. Can't I bespeak your good offices?" + +She lowered her parasol to the ground, and leaned a little forward upon +it. Her eyes were fixed steadily upon Wrayson. + +"Go on," she said briefly. + +"I love Louise," Wrayson said, "and I believe she cares for me. +Nevertheless, she refuses to marry me, and will give no intelligible +reason. My first meeting with her was of an extraordinary nature. I +assisted her to leave a house in which a murder had been committed, +since which time I think we have both run a risk of trouble with the +authorities. Louise lives always in the shadow of some mystery, and when +I, who surely have the right to know her secrets, beg for her confidence, +she refuses it." + +"And what is it that you wish me to do?" Madame de Melbain asked softly. + +"To use your influence with Louise," Wrayson pleaded. "Let her give me +her confidence, and let her accept from me the shelter of my name." + +Madame de Melbain was silent for several moments. She seemed to be +thinking. Louise's face was expressionless. She had made one attempt to +check Wrayson, but recognizing its futility she had at once abandoned it. +From below in the valley came the faint whir of the reaping machines, +from the rose garden a murmur of bees. But between the two women and the +man there was silence--silence which lasted so long that Monsieur Jules, +who was watching from a window, called softly upon all the saints of his +acquaintance to explain to him of what nature was this mystery, which +seemed to be developing, as it were, under his own surveillance. + +At last Madame de Melbain appeared to come to a decision. She moved +slowly forward, until she stood within a few feet of him. Then she raised +her eyes to his and looked him long and earnestly in the face. + +"You look," she said, half under her breath, "like a man who might be +trusted. I will trust you. I will be kinder to you than Louise, for I +will tell you all that you want to know. But when I have told you, you +will have in your keeping the honour of an unfortunate woman whose name +alone is great." + +Wrayson looked her for a moment in the eyes. Then he bowed low. + +"Madame," he said, "that trust will be to me my most sacred possession." + +She smiled at him faintly, nodding her head as though to keep pace with +her thoughts. + +"I believe you, Mr. Wrayson," she said. "Yes, I believe you! Let me tell +you this, then. I count it amongst my misfortunes that my own troubles +have become in so large a manner the troubles of my friends. You will +appreciate that the more, perhaps, when I tell you that Madame de Melbain +is not the name by which I am generally known. I am that unfortunate +woman the Queen of Mexonia!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE QUEEN OF MEXONIA + + +Wrayson, who had been prepared for something surprising, was yet startled +out of his composure. The affairs of the unhappy Royal House of Mexonia +were the property of the world. He half rose to his feet, but Madame de +Melbain instantly waved him back again. + +"My friends," she said, "deem it advisable that my whereabouts should not +be known. I certainly am very anxious that my incognita should be +preserved." + +She paused, and Wrayson, without hesitation, answered her unspoken +question. Unconsciously, too, he found himself using the same manner of +address as the others. + +"Madame," he said, "whatever you choose to tell me will be sacred." + +She bowed her head slightly. + +"I am going to tell you a good deal," she said, glancing across at +Louise. + +Louise opened her lips as though about to intervene. Madame de Melbain +continued, however, without a break. + +"I am going to tell you more than may seem necessary," she said, "because +I believe that I am one of those unfortunate persons whose evil lot it is +to bring unhappiness upon their friends. So far as I can avoid this, Mr. +Wrayson, I mean to. Further--it is possible that I may ask +you--presently--to render me a service." + +Wrayson bowed low. He felt that she was already well aware of his +willingness. + +"First, then, let me tell you," she continued, leaning back in her chair, +and looking away across the valley with eyes whose light was wholly +reminiscent, "that we three were schoolgirls together, Louise, Amy--whom +you know better, perhaps, as the Baroness de Sturm--and myself. We were +at a convent near Brussels. There were not many pupils, and we three were +friends.... + +"We had a great deal of liberty--more liberty, perhaps, than our friends +would have approved of. We worked, it is true, in the mornings, but in +the afternoons we rode or played tennis in the Bois. It was there that I +met Prince Frederick, who afterwards became my husband. + +"I was only sixteen years old, and just as silly, I suppose, as a girl +brought up as I had been brought up was certain to be. I was very much +flattered by Prince Frederick's attentions, and quite ready to respond +to them. My own family was noble, and the match was not considered a +particularly unequal one, for though Frederick was of the Royal House, +he was a long way from the succession. Still, there was a good deal of +trouble when a messenger from Frederick went to my father. He declared +that I was altogether too young; my mother, on the other hand, was +just as anxious to conclude the match. Eventually it was arranged that +the betrothal should take place in six months--and Frederick went back +to Mexonia." + +Madame de Melbain paused for a moment. Wrayson felt, from her slightly +altered attitude and a significant lowering of her voice, that she was +reaching the part of her narrative which she found the most difficult. + +"We girls," she continued, "went back to school, and just at that time +Louise's brother came over to Brussels. I think that I have already told +you that the supervision over us was far from strict. There was nothing +to prevent Captain Fitzmaurice being a good deal with us. We had +picnics, tennis parties, rides! Long before the six months were up I +understood how foolish I had been. I wrote to Prince Frederick and +begged him to release me from our uncompleted engagement. His answer was +to appear in person. He made a scene. My mother and father were now +wholly on his side. Within a few weeks he had lost both a cousin and a +brother. His succession to the throne was almost a certainty. His own +people were just as anxious to have him married. I did not know why +then, but I found out later on. They had their way. I believe that +things are different in an English home. In mine, I can assure you that +I never had any chance. I entered upon my married life without the least +possibility of happiness. Needless to say, I never realized any! For the +last four years my husband has been trying for a divorce! Very soon it +is possible that he will succeed." + +Wrayson leaned a little towards her. + +"Is it permitted, Madame, to ask a question?" + +"Why not?" + +"You have fought against this divorce, you and your friends, so +zealously. Yet your life has been unhappy. Release could scarcely have +been anything but a relief to you!" + +Madame de Melbain raised her head slightly. Her brows were a little +contracted. From her eyes there flashed the silent fire of a +queen's disdain. + +"Release! Yes, I would welcome that! If it were death it would be very +welcome! But divorce--he to divorce me, he, whose brutality and +infidelities are the scandal of every Court in Europe! No! A divorce I +never shall accept. Separation I have insisted upon." + +Wrayson hesitated for a moment. + +"May I be pardoned," he said, "if I repeat to you what I saw in print +lately--in a famous English paper? They spoke of this divorce case which +has lasted so long; they spoke of it as about to be finally decided. +There was some fresh evidence about to be produced, a special court was +to be held." + +Madame de Melbain turned, if possible, a shade paler. + +"Yes!" she said slowly, "I have heard of that. We have all heard of that. +I want to tell you, Mr. Wrayson, what that fresh evidence consists of." + +Wrayson bowed and waited. Somehow he felt that he was on the eve of a +great discovery. + +"Both before my marriage and afterwards," Madame de Melbain said quietly, +"I wrote to--Captain Fitzmaurice. I was always impulsive--when I was +younger, and my letters, especially one written on the eve of my +marriage, would no doubt decide the case against me. Captain Fitzmaurice +was killed--in Natal, but in a mysterious way news has reached me of the +letters since his death." + +"In what way?" Wrayson asked. + +For the first time, Madame de Melbain glanced a little nervously about +her. Against listeners, however, they seemed absolutely secure. There was +no hiding-place, nor any one within sight. Upon the land was everywhere +the silence of a great heat. Even in the shade where they sat the still +air was hot and breathless. Down in the valley the cows stood knee deep +in the stream, and a blue haze hung over the vineyards. + +"Nearly eighteen months ago," Madame de Melbain continued, "I received a +letter signed by the name of Morris Barnes. The writer said that he had +just arrived from South Africa, and had picked up on one of the +battlefields there a bundle of letters, which he had come to the +conclusion must have been written by me. He did not mince matters in the +least. He was a blackmailer pure and simple. He had given me the first +chance of buying these letters! What was my offer?" + +A sharp ejaculation broke from Wrayson's lips. Louise signed to him to +be silent. + +"Amy was with me when the letters came," Madame de Melbain continued. +"She left at once for England to see this man. The sum he demanded was +impossible. All that she could do was to ask for time, and to arrange to +pay him so much a month whilst we were considering how to raise the +money. He accepted this, and promised to keep silence. He kept his word, +but for a time only. He made inquiries, and he seems to have come to the +conclusion that the money was on the other side. At any rate, he +approached the advisers of my husband. He was in treaty with them for the +letters--when he--when he met with his death!" + +Wrayson had a feeling that the heat was becoming intolerable. He dared +not look at Louise. His eyes were fixed upon the still expressionless +face of the woman whose story was slowly unfolding its tragic course. + +"A rumour of this," Madame de Melbain continued, "reached us in Mexonia! +I telegraphed to Amy! She and Louise were at their wits' ends. Louise +decided to go and see this man Barnes, to make her way, if she could, +into his flat, to search for and, if she could find them, to steal these +letters. She carried out her purpose or rather her attempted purpose. The +rest you know, for it was you who saved her!" + +"The man," Wrayson said hoarsely, "was murdered." + +Madame de Melbain inclined her head. + +"So I have understood," she remarked. + +"He was murdered," Wrayson continued in a harsh, unnatural voice, "on +that very night, the night when he was to have made over these letters to +your--enemies! The message was telephoned to me! He was to go to the +Hotel Francis. He was warned that there was danger. And there was! He was +murdered--while the cab waited--to take him there!" + +Her eyes held his--she did not flinch. + +"The man who telephoned to me--Bentham his name was, the agent of your +enemies,--he, too, was murdered!" + +"So I have heard," she said calmly. + +"The letters!" he faltered. "Where are they?" + +"No one knows," she answered. "That is why I live always on the brink of +a volcano. Many people are searching for them. No one as yet has +succeeded. But that may come at any moment." + +"Madame," he said, "can you tell me who killed these men?" + +She raised her eyebrows. + +"I cannot," she answered coldly. + +"Madame," he declared, "the man Barnes was a pitiful blackmailing little +Jew! For all I know, he deserved death a dozen times over--ay, and +Bentham too! But the law does not look upon it like that. Whoever killed +these men will assuredly be hanged if they are caught. Don't you think +that your friends are a little too zealous?" + +She met his gaze unflinchingly. + +"If friends of mine have done these things," she said, "they are at least +unknown to me!" + +He drew a short choking breath of relief. Yet even now the mystery was +deeper than ever! He began to think out loud. + +"A friend of yours it must have been," he declared. "Barnes was murdered +when in a few hours he would have parted with those letters to your +enemies; Bentham was murdered when he was on the point of discovering +them! There is some one working for you, guarding you, who desires to +remain unknown. I wonder!" + +He stopped short. A sudden illumining idea flashed through his mind. He +looked at Madame de Melbain fixedly. + +"This man Duncan who has disappeared so suddenly," he said thickly. "Whom +did you say--who was it that he reminded you of?" + +Madame de Melbain lost at last her composure. She was white to the lips, +her eyes seemed suddenly lit with a horrible dread. She pushed out her +hands as though to thrust it from her. + +"He was killed!" she cried. "It was not he! He is dead! Don't dare to +speak of anything so horrible!" + +Then, before they could realize that he was actually amongst them, he was +there. They heard only a crashing of boughs, the parting of the hedge. He +was there on his knees, with his arms around the terrified woman who had +sobbed out his name. Louise, too, swayed upon her feet, her fascinated +eyes fixed upon the newcomer. Wrayson understood, then, that in some way +this man had indeed come back from the dead. + +[Illustration: "HE WAS THERE ON HIS KNEES, WITH HIS ARMS AROUND THE +TERRIFIED WOMAN"] + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +RETURNED FROM THE TOMB + + +The intervention which a few seconds later abruptly terminated an +emotional crisis was in itself a very commonplace one. Monsieur the +proprietor deemed the moment advisable for solving a question which was +beginning to distract his better half in the kitchen. He advanced towards +them, all smiles and bows and gestures. + +"Monsieur would pardon his inquiring--would Monsieur and the ladies be +taking _dejeuner?_ A fowl of excellence unusual was then being +roasted, the salad--Monsieur could see it growing! And Madame had +thought of an omelet! There was no cooler place in all France on a day +of heat so extraordinary as the table under the trees yonder. And as +for strawberries--well, Monsieur could see them grow for himself! or +if it was _fraises de Bois_ that Madame preferred, the children had +brought in baskets full only that morning, fresh and juicy, and of a +wonderful size." + +Wrayson interrupted him at last. + +"Let luncheon be served as you suggest," he directed. "In the meantime--" + +Monsieur Jules understood and withdrew with more bows and smiles. The +significance of his brief appearance upon the lawn was a thing of which +he had not the least idea. Yet after his departure, the strain to a +certain extent had passed away. Only Madame de Melbain's eyes seemed +scarcely to leave the face of the man who stood still by her chair. + +"Alive!" she murmured, grasping his hand in hers. "You alive!" + +Louise had taken his other hand. He was imprisoned between the two. + +"Yes!" he said, "I made what they called a wonderful recovery. I suppose +it was almost a miracle." + +"But your death," Louise declared, "was never contradicted." + +"A good deal of news went astray about that time," he remarked grimly. "I +was left, and forgotten. When I found what had been done, I let it go. It +seemed to me to be better. I went up to Rhodesia, and of course I had the +devil's luck. I've come back to Europe simply because I couldn't stand it +any longer. I was not coming to England, and I had no idea of seeing you, +Emilie! I travelled here on a little pilgrimage." + +"It was fate," she murmured. + +"But since I am here," he continued, "and since we have met again, I must +ask you this. Your husband is trying to divorce you?" + +"Yes!" she murmured. + +"And why?" + +"Because he is a brute," she answered quietly. "We have been separated +for more than a year. I think that he wants to marry again." + +"And you permit this?" he asked. + +"No!" she answered, "I contest it. Up to now, the courts have been in +my favour." + +"Up to now! They must always be in your favour!" he declared vehemently. +"What can they say against a saint like you?" + +She smiled up at him tenderly, a little wistfully. + +"They would say a good deal," she whispered, "if they could see you +here now." + +He drew abruptly away. + +"I am a thoughtless brute," he declared. "It was for that that I decided +to remain dead. I will go away at once." + +Her fingers closed over his. She drew him a little nearer with glad +recklessness. + +"You shall not," she murmured. "It is worth a little risk, this." + +Wrayson touched Louise on the arm and they turned away. He found her a +seat in a quiet corner of the fruit garden, where a tall row of +hollyhocks shielded them from observation. She was very white, and in a +semi-hysterical state. + +"I can't believe," she said, "that that is really Duncan--Duncan himself. +It is too wonderful!" + +"There is no doubt about it being your brother," he answered. "What I +don't quite understand is why he has kept away so long." + +"It is because of her," she answered. "If they had been on the same +continent, I believe that nothing could have kept them apart!" + +"And now?" he asked. + +"I cannot tell," she answered, "I, nor any one else! God made them for +one another, I am very sure!" + +He took her hand and held it tightly in his. + +"And you for me, dearest," he whispered. "Shall I tell you why I am +sure of it?" + +She leaned back with half-closed eyes. Endurance has its limits, and the +mesmeric influence of the drowsy summer day was in her veins. + +"If you like," she murmured, simply.... + +And only a few yards away, the man from the dead and the woman who had +loved him seemed to have drifted into a summer day-dream. The strangeness +of this thing held them both--ordinary intercourse seemed impossible. +What they spoke about they scarcely knew! There were days, golden days to +be whispered about and lived again; treasured minutes to be recalled, +looks and words remembered. Of the future, of the actual present, save of +their two selves, they scarcely spoke. It was an hour snatched from +Paradise for her! She would not let it go lightly. She would not suffer +even a cloud to pass across it! + +In time, Monsieur Jules found himself constrained to announce that +_dejeuner_ was served. He found it useless to try to attract the +attention of either Madame de Melbain or Duncan, so he went in search +of Wrayson. + +"Monsieur is served," he announced, looking blandly upwards at a passing +cloud. "There remains the wine only." + +"Chablis of the best, and ice, and mineral water," Wrayson ordered. +"Come, Louise." + +She sighed a little as she rose and followed him along the narrow path, +where the rose-bushes brushed against her skirt, and the air was fragrant +with lavender. It had been an interlude only, after all, though the man +whose hand she still held would never have admitted it. But--he did not +know! She prayed to Heaven that he never might. + +Luncheon, after all, with a waiter within hearing, and Monsieur Jules +hovering round, banished in a great measure the curious sense of +unreality from which none of them were wholly free. And when coffee came, +Madame leaned a little towards Duncan, and with her hand upon his arm +whispered a question. + +"My letters, Duncan! What became of them?" + +He sighed. + +"I was a little rash, perhaps," he said, "but--they were all I had left. +They were with me at Colenso, in an envelope, sealed and addressed, to be +burnt unopened. When I was hit, I got a Red Cross man to cut them out of +my coat and destroy them." + +Madame de Melbain looked at him for a moment, and her eyes were soft +with unshed tears. Then she turned away, though her hand still +rested upon his. + +"Duncan," she said quietly, "don't think that I mind. You did all that +you could, and indeed I would rather that you cared so much. But the +letters were not destroyed." + +For a moment he failed to realize the import of her words. + +"Not destroyed?" he repeated, a little vaguely. + +"No!" she answered. "They came into the hands of some one in London. +Terrible things have happened in connexion with them. Duncan, if you will +listen to me quietly, I will tell you about it. Sit down, dear." + +She saw the gathering storm. The man's face was black with anger. He was +still a little dazed however. + +"You mean--that the man to whom I trusted them--" + +"He kept them for his own purpose," she said softly. + +"Don't look like that, Duncan. He has paid his debt. He is dead!" + +"And the letters?" + +"We do not know. My husband's advisers are trying to get possession of +them. That is why the courts have not yet pronounced their judgment." + +He had risen to his feet, but she drew him gently down again. + +"Remember, Duncan, that the man is dead! Be calm, and I will tell you all +about it." + +He looked at her wonderingly. + +"You are not angry with me?" + +"Angry! Why should I be? I am only happy to know that you never +forgot--that you could not bear to destroy the only link that was left +between us. Do you know, I am almost sorry that I spoke to you about +this! We seem to have snatched an hour or two out of Paradise, and it +is I who have stirred up the dark waters. Let us forget it for a few +more minutes!" + +He drew her away with him towards their seat under the trees. Wrayson +looked across at Louise with a smile. + +"You, too," he said. "May we not forget a little longer?" + +She smiled at him sadly, and shook her head. + +"No!" she answered. "With them it is different. I can scarcely yet +realize that I have a brother: think what it must be to Emilie to have +the man whom she loved come back from the grave. Listen!" + +Outside they heard the sound of galloping horses. A moment later the +Baron de Courcelles issued from the inn and crossed the lawn towards +Madame de Melbain. + +"Madame," he said, "the man who was caught in the park last night is, +without doubt, a spy from Mexonia! He can be charged with nothing more +serious than trespass, and in a few minutes he will be free. Should he +return, this"--he glanced towards Duncan--"would be the end. I have a +carriage waiting for you." + +Madame de Melbain rose at once. With a little gesture of excuse she drew +Duncan on one side. + +"Wait here," she begged, "until you hear from me. Baron de Courcelles is +my one faithful friend at Court. I am going to consult with him." + +"I shall see you again?" he asked. + +She hesitated. + +"Is it wise?" she murmured. "If my enemies knew that you were alive, +that I had seen you here, what chance should I have, do you think, +before the courts?" + +He bent over her hands. + +"I have brought enough trouble upon you," he said simply. "I will wait! +Only I hope that there will be work for me to do!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +AT THE HOTEL SPLENDIDE + + +"I asked you," the Baron remarked, helping himself to _hors d'oeuvres,_ +"to dine with me here, because I fancy that the little inn at St. Etarpe +is being closely watched. Always when one has private matters to discuss, +I believe in a certain amount of publicity. Here we are in a quiet +corner, it is true, but we are surrounded by several hundreds of other +people. They are far too occupied with their own affairs to watch us. It +is the last place, for instance, where our friend from Mexonia would +dream of looking for us." + +The three men were seated at a small round table in the great +dining-room of the _Hotel Splendide_ of Dinant-on-Sea. The season was at +its height, and the room was full. On every side they were surrounded by +chattering groups of English tourists and French holiday makers. Outside +on the promenade a band was playing, and a leisurely crowd was passing +back and forth. + +"The lady whom we will continue, if you please, to call Madame de +Melbain," the Baron continued, "has desired me to take you two gentlemen +into our entire confidence. You are both aware that for eighteen months +the suit for divorce brought by that lady's husband has been before a +special court." + +"One understands," Wrayson remarked, "that the sympathies of all Europe +are with--the lady." + +The Baron bowed. + +"Entirely. Her cause, too, is the popular one in Mexonia. It is the +ministry and the aristocracy who are on the other side. These are anxious +for an alliance which will safeguard Mexonia from certain dangers to +which she is at present exposed. Madame de Melbain, as you are both +aware, comes from one of the oldest families of Europe, but it is a +family without any political significance. The betrothal was completed +before Frederick stood so near to the throne. If his accession had seemed +even a likely thing at the time, it would not have been sanctioned. I +speak as the staunch friend of the lady whose cause is so dear to us, but +I wish you to grasp the facts." + +There was a brief pause whilst a fresh course was served by an apologetic +and breathless waiter. The three men spoke together for a while on some +chance subject. Then, when they were alone, the Baron continued. + +"The court, although powerful influences were at work, found itself +unable to pronounce the decree which those in authority so much desired. +All that those who were behind the scenes could do was to keep the case +open, hoping that while living apart from her husband some trifling +indiscretion on the part of Madame would afford them a pretext for giving +the desired verdict. I need not say that, up to the present, no such +indiscretion has occurred. But all the time we have been on the brink of +a volcano!" + +"The letters!" Duncan muttered. + +The Baron nodded. + +"About a year ago," he said, "Madame de Melbain received a terrifying +letter from the miscreant into whose hands they had fallen. Madame very +wisely made a confidant of me, and, with the Baroness de Sturm, I left +at once for London, and saw this man. I very soon persuaded myself that +he had the letters and that he knew their value. He asked a sum for them +which it was utterly unable for us to pay." + +"Did he explain," Duncan asked, "how they came into his hands?" + +"He said that they were picked up on the battlefield of Colenso at +first," the Baron declared. "Afterwards he was brutally frank. You see +your death was gazetted, a fact of which he was no doubt aware. He +admitted that they had been given to him to destroy." + +Duncan leaned across the table. + +"Baron," he said, "who killed that man? He cheated me of my task, but I +should like to know who it was." + +"So would a great many more of us," the Baron answered. "The fact is, we +are in the curious position of having an unknown friend." + +"An unknown friend?" Duncan repeated. + +The Baron nodded. + +"We paid that man two thousand a year," he said, "but he was not +satisfied. He communicated secretly with the other side, and they agreed +to buy the letters for ten thousand pounds. We knew the very night when +he had arranged to hand them over to a man named Bentham in London. But +we were powerless. We could not have found the half of ten thousand +pounds. One thing only was tried, and that very nearly ended in disaster. +An attempt was made to steal the letters. Mr. Wrayson will tell you about +that--presently." + +A _maitre d'hotel_ paused at their table to hope that messieurs were well +served. In a season so busy it was not possible to give the attention to +every one they would like! Was there anything he could do? Messieurs were +drinking, he noticed, the best wine in the cellars! He trusted that they +approved of it. The young lady there with the diamond collar and the +wonderful eyes? He bent a little lower over the table. That was +Mademoiselle Diane, of the Folies Bergeres! And the gentleman? He had +registered under another name, but he was well known as the Baron X----, +a great capitalist in Paris! + +The _maitre d'hotel_ passed on, well satisfied that he had interested the +three distinguished looking gentlemen who dined alone. Wrayson, as soon +as he was out of hearing, leaned over the table. + +"It is on that night," he said to Duncan, "that I come into touch with +the affairs of which our friend has spoken. The man Barnes had a flat +corresponding to mine on the floor above. I returned home about midnight +and found a young lady, who was a complete stranger to me, engaged in +searching my desk. I turned up the lights and demanded an explanation. +She was apparently quite as much surprised to see me as I was to see her. +It appeared that she had imagined herself in Barnes' flat. Whilst I was +talking to her, the telephone bell rang. Some unknown person asked me to +convey a message to Barnes. When I had finished she was gone. I sat down +and tried to make head or tail of the affair. I couldn't. Barnes was a +disreputable little bounder! This girl was a lady. What connexion could +there be between the two? I fancied what might happen if she were +surprised by Barnes, and I determined not to go to bed until I heard her +come down. I fell asleep over my fire, and I woke with a start to find +her once more upon the threshold of my room. She was fainting--almost on +the point of collapse! I gave her some brandy and helped her downstairs. +At the door of the flat was a cab, and in it was the man Barnes, +dead--murdered!" + +The breath came through Duncan's teeth with a little hiss. One could +fancy that he was wishing that his had been the hand to strike the blow. +The Baron glanced round casually. He called a waiter and complained of +the slow service, sent for another bottle of wine, and lit a cigarette. + +"I think," he said, "that we will pause for a moment or so. Mr. +Wrayson's narrative is a little dramatic! Ah! Mademoiselle la danseuse +goes! What a toilet!" + +Mademoiselle favoured their table with her particular regard as she +passed out, and accepted with a delightful smile the fan which she +dropped in passing, and which the Baron as speedily restored. He resumed +his seat, stroking his grey moustache. + +"A very handsome young lady," he remarked. "I think that now we may +continue." + +"The girl?" Duncan asked quickly. + +"Was your sister," Wrayson answered. + +There was a moment's intense silence. Duncan was doing his best to look +unconcerned, but the hand which played with his wineglass shook. + +"How--was he murdered?" + +"Strangled with a fine cord," Wrayson answered. + +"In the cab?" + +"There or inside the building! It is impossible to say." + +"And no one was ever tried for the murder?" + +"No one," Wrayson answered. + +Duncan swallowed a glassful of wine. + +"But my sister," he said, "was in his rooms--she might have seen him!" + +"Your sister's name was never mentioned in the matter," Wrayson said. "I +was the only witness who knew anything about her--and--I said nothing." + +Duncan drew a little breath. + +"Why?" he asked. + +"An impulse," Wrayson answered. "I felt that she could not have been +concerned in such a deed, and I felt that if I told all that I knew, she +would have been suspected. So I said nothing. I saved her a good deal of +trouble and anxiety I dare say, and I do not believe that I interfered in +any way with the course of justice." + +Duncan looked across the table and raised his glass. + +"I should like to shake hands with you, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "only the +Baron would have fits. You acted like a brick. I only hope that Louise is +as grateful as she ought to be." + +"My silence," Wrayson said, "was really an impulse. There have been times +since when I have wondered whether I was wise. There are people now at +work in London trying to solve the mystery of this murder. I acted upon +the supposition that no one had seen your sister leave the flat except +myself. I found afterwards that I was mistaken!" + +The Baron leaned forward. + +"One moment, Mr. Wrayson," he interrupted. "You have said that there are +people in London who are trying to solve the mystery of Barnes' death. +Who are they?" + +"One is the man's brother," Wrayson answered, "if possible, a more +contemptible little cur than the man himself was. His only interest is +to discover the source of his brother's income. He wants money! Nothing +but money. The other is a much more dangerous person. His name is +Heneage, and he is an acquaintance of my own, a barrister, and a man of +education." + +"Why does he interest himself in such an affair?" Duncan asked. + +"Because the solution of such matters is a hobby of his," Wrayson +answered. "It was he who saw your sister and I come out from the flat +that morning. It was he who warned us both to leave England." + +The Baron leaned forward in his chair. + +"Forgive me, Mr. Wrayson," he said, "but there is a--lady at your right +who seems anxious to attract your attention. We are none of us anxious to +advertise our presence here. Is she, by any chance, a friend of yours?" + +Wrayson looked quickly round. He understood at once the Baron's slight +pause. The ladies of the French half-world are skilled enough, when +necessary, in concealing their profession: their English sister, if she +attempts it at all, attempts a hopeless task. Over-powdered, over-rouged, +with hair at least two shades nearer copper coloured than last time he +had seen her, badly but showily dressed, it was his friend from the +Alhambra whose welcoming smile Wrayson received with a thrill of +interest. She was seated at a small table with a slightly less repulsive +edition of herself, and her smile changed at once into a gesture of +invitation. Wrayson rose to his feet almost eagerly. + +"This is a coincidence," he said under his breath. "She, too, holds a +hand in the game!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A HAND IN THE GAME + + +The diners at the _Hotel Splendide_ were a little surprised to see the +tall, distinguished-looking Englishman leave his seat and accost with +quiet deference the elder of the two women, whose entrance a few minutes +before had occasioned a good many not very flattering comments. The lady +who called herself Blanche meant to make the most of her opportunity. + +"Fancy meeting you here," she remarked. "Flo, this is a friend of +mine. Mrs. Harrigod! Gentleman's name doesn't matter, does it?" she +added, laughing. + +Wrayson bowed, and murmured something inaudible. Blanche's friend +regarded him with unconcealed and flattering approval. + +"Over here for a little flutter, I suppose?" she remarked. "It is so hot +in town we had to get away somewhere. Are you alone with your friends?" + +"Quite alone," Wrayson answered. "We are only staying for a day or two." + +The lady nodded. + +"We shall stay for a week if we like it," she said. "If not, we shall go +on to Dieppe. Did you get my letter?" + +"Letter!" Wrayson repeated. "No! Have you written to me?" + +She nodded. + +"I wrote to you a week ago." + +"I have been staying near here," Wrayson said, "and my letters have not +been forwarded." + +He bent a little lower over the table. The perfume of violet scent was +almost unbearable, but he did not flinch. + +"You had some news for me?" he asked eagerly. + +"Yes!" she answered. "I'm not going to tell you now. We are going to +sit outside after dinner. You must come to us there. No good having +smart friends unless you make use of them," she added, with a shrill +little laugh. + +"I shall take some chairs and order coffee," Wrayson said. "In the +meantime--?" + +"If you like to order us a bottle of champagne and tell the waiter to put +it on your bill, we shan't be offended," Blanche declared. "We were just +wondering whether we could run to it." + +"You must do me the honour of being my guests for dinner also," +Wrayson declared, calling a waiter. "It was very good of you to +remember to write." + +The friend murmured something about it being very kind of the gentleman. +Blanche shrugged her shoulders. + +"Oh! I remember right enough," she said. "It wasn't that. But there, wait +until I've told you about it. It's an odd story, and sometimes I wish I'd +never had anything to do with it. I get a cold shiver every time I think +of that old man who took me to dine at Luigi's. Outside in three-quarters +of an hour, then!" + +"I will keep some chairs and order coffee," Wrayson said, turning away. + +"And bring one of your friends," Blanche added. "It won't do him any +harm. We shan't bite him!" + +"I will bring them both," Wrayson promised. + +He went back to his own table and people watched him curiously. + +"I believe," he said quietly, as he sat down, "that if there is a person +in the world who can put us on the track of those letters, it is the lady +with whom I have just been talking." + +The Baron looked across at the two women with new interest. + +"What on earth have they got to do with it, Wrayson?" he asked. + +"The fair one was a friend of Barnes'," Wrayson answered. "It was at her +flat that he called the night he was murdered." + +"You are sure," Duncan asked, "that the letters have not been found yet +by the other side?" + +"Quite sure," the Baron answered. "We have agents in Mexonia, even +about the King's person, and we should hear in an hour if they had +the letters." + +"Presuming, then," Duncan said thoughtfully, "that Barnes was murdered +for the sake of these letters--and as he was murdered on the very night +he was going to hand them over to the other side, I don't see what else +we can suppose,--the crime would appear to have been committed by some +one on our side." + +"It certainly does seem so," the Baron admitted. + +"And this man Bentham! He was the agent for--the King's people. He too +was murdered! Baron!" + +"Well?" + +"Who killed Barnes? He robbed me of my right, but I want to know." + +The Baron shook his head. + +"I have no idea," he said gravely. "We have agents in London, of course, +but no one who would go to such lengths. I do not know who killed +Barnes, nor do I know who killed Bentham." + +There was a short silence. The Baron's words were impressively spoken. +It was impossible to doubt their veracity. Yet both to Wrayson and to +Duncan they had a serious import. The same thought was present in the +mind of all three of them--and each avoided the others' eyes. Wrayson, +however, was not disposed to let the matter go without one more +effort. The corners of his mouth tightened, and he looked the Baron +steadily in the face. + +"Baron," he said, "I have told you that there is a man in London who has +set himself to solve the mystery of Barnes' death. The two people whom he +would naturally suspect are Miss Fitzmaurice and myself. There is strong +presumptive evidence against us, owing to my silence at the inquest, and +at any moment we might either of us have to face this charge. Knowing +this, do I understand you to say that, if the necessity arose, you would +be absolutely unable to throw any light upon the matter?" + +"Absolutely!" the Baron declared. "Both those murders are as complete an +enigma to me as to you." + +"You have agents in London?" + +"Agents, yes!" the Baron declared, "but they are in the nature of +detectives only. They would not dream of going to such lengths, either +with instructions or without them. Neither, I am sure, would any one who +was employed to collect evidence upon the other side." + +There was no more to be said. Wrayson rose to his feet a little abruptly. + +"The air is stifling here," he said. "Let us go outside and take +our coffee." + +They found seats on the veranda, looking out upon the promenade. The +Baron looked a little dubiously at the stream of people passing backwards +and forwards. + +"Are we not a little conspicuous?" he remarked. + +"Does it really matter?" Wrayson asked. "It is only for this evening. I +shall leave for London tomorrow, in any event. Besides, it is part of the +bargain that we take coffee with these ladies. Here they are." + +Wrayson introduced his friends with perfect gravity. Chairs were found, +and coffee and liqueurs ordered. Wrayson contrived to sit on the outside, +and next to his copper-haired friend. + +"Now for our little talk," he said. "Will you have a cigarette? You'll +find these all right." + +She threw a sidelong glance at him and sighed. What an exceedingly +earnest young man this was! + +"Well," she said, "I know you'll give me no peace till I've told you. +There may be nothing in it. That's for you to find out. I think myself +there is. It was last Thursday night in the promenade at the Alhambra +that I saw her!" + +"Saw whom?" Wrayson interrupted. + +"I'm coming to that," she declared. "Let me tell you my own way. I was +talking to a friend, and I overheard all that she said. She was quietly +dressed, and she looked frightened; a poor, pale-faced little thing she +was anyway, and she was walking up and down like a stage-doll, peering +round corners and looking everywhere, as though she'd lost somebody. +Presently she went up to one of the attendants, and I heard her ask him +if he knew a Mr. Augustus Howard who came there often. The man shook his +head, and then she tried to describe him. It was a bit flattering, but +an idea jumped into my head all of a sudden that it was Barnes she was +looking for." + +"By Jove!" Wrayson muttered, under his breath. "Did you speak to her?" + +She nodded. + +"I waited till she was alone, and then I made her sit down with me and +describe him all over again. By the time she'd finished, I was jolly well +sure that it was Barnes she was after." + +"Did you tell her?" Wrayson asked. + +"Not I!" she answered. "I didn't want a scene there, and besides, it's +your little show, not mine. I told her that I felt sure I recognized him, +and that if she would be in the same place at nine o'clock a week from +that night, I could send some one whom I thought would be able to tell +her about her friend. That was last Thursday. You want to be just outside +the refreshment-room at nine o'clock to-morrow night, and you can't +mistake her. She looks as though she'd blown in from an A B C shop." + +Wrayson possessed himself of her hand for a moment in an impulse of +apparent gallantry. Something which rustled pleasantly was instantly and +safely transferred to the metal purse which hung from her waistband. + +"You will allow me?" he murmured. + +"Rather," she answered, with a little laugh. "What a stroke of luck it +was meeting you here! Flo and I were both stony. We hadn't a sovereign +between us when we'd paid for our tickets." + +"Have you seen anything of Barnes' brother?" he asked. + +"Once or twice at the Alhambra," she answered. + +"He was wearing his brother's clothes, but he looked pretty dicky." + +"You didn't mention this young woman to him, I suppose?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"Not I! You're the only person I've told. Hope it brings you luck." + +Wrayson rose to his feet. The Baron and Duncan followed his example. They +took leave of the ladies and turned towards the promenade. + +"I'm going to London by the morning boat," Wrayson announced. "I believe +I'm on the track of those letters." + +They walked up and down for a few moments talking. As they passed the +front of the hotel, they heard a shrill peal of laughter. Blanche and her +friend were talking to a little group of men. The Baron smiled. + +"We have broken the ice for them," he said, "but I am afraid that we are +already forgotten." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +AN ILL-ASSORTED COUPLE + + +Wrayson looked anxiously at his watch. It was already ten minutes past +nine, and although he was standing on the precise spot indicated, there +was no one about who in the least resembled the young woman of whom he +was in search. The overture to the ballet was being played, a good many +people were strolling about, or seated at the small round tables, but +they were all of the usual class, the ladies ornate and obvious, and all +having the air of _habitues_. In vain Wrayson scanned the faces of the +passers-by, and even the occupants of the back seats. There was no sign +of the young woman of whom he was in search. + +Presently he began to stroll somewhat aimlessly about, still taking note +of every one amongst the throng, and in a little while he caught sight of +a familiar figure, sitting alone at one of the small round tables. He +accosted him at once. + +"How are you, Heneage?" he said quietly. "What are you doing in town at +this time of the year?" + +Heneage started when he was addressed, and his manner, when he recognized +Wrayson, lacked altogether its usual composure. + +"I'm all right," he answered. "Beastly hot in town, though, isn't it? I'm +off in a day or two. Where have you been to?" + +"North of France," Wrayson answered. "You look as though you wanted +a change!" + +"I'm going to Scotland directly I can get away." + +The two men looked at one another for a moment. Heneage was certainly +looking ill. There were dark lines under his eyes, and his face seemed +thinner. Then, too, he was still in his morning clothes, his tie was ill +arranged, and his linen not unexceptionable. Wrayson was puzzled. +Something had gone wrong with the man. + +"You see," he said quietly, "I have been forced to disregard your +warning. I shall be in England for some little time at any rate. May I +ask, am I in any particular danger?" + +Heneage shook his head. + +"Not from me, at any rate!" + +Wrayson looked at him for a moment steadily. + +"Do you mean that, Heneage?" he asked. + +"Yes!" + +"You are satisfied, then, that neither I nor the young lady had +anything to do with the death of Morris Barnes?" Heneage moved in his +chair uneasily. + +"Yes!" he answered. "Don't talk to me about that damned business," he +added, with a little burst of half-suppressed passion. "I've done with +it. Come and have a drink." + +Wrayson drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps, for the first time, he realized +how great a weight this thing had been upon his spirits. He had feared +Heneage!--not this man, but the cold, capable Stephen Heneage of his +earlier acquaintance; feared him not only for his own sake, but hers. +After all, his visit to the Alhambra had brought some good to him. + +Heneage had risen to his feet. + +"We'll go into the American bar," he said. "Not here. The women fuss +round one so. I'm glad you've turned up, Wrayson. I've got the hump!" + +The bar was crowded, but they found a quiet corner. Heneage ordered a +large brandy and soda, and drunk half of it at a gulp. + +"How's every one?" Wrayson asked. "I haven't been in the club yet." + +"All right, I believe. I haven't been in myself for a week," +Heneage answered. + +Wrayson looked at him in surprise. + +"Haven't been in the club for a week?" he repeated. "That's rather +unusual, isn't it?" + +"Damn it all! I'm not obliged to go there, am I?" Heneage +exclaimed testily. + +Wrayson looked at him in amazement. Heneage, as a rule, was one of the +most deliberate and even-tempered of men. + +"Of course not," he answered. "You won't mind telling me how the Colonel +is, though, will you?" + +"I believe he is very well," Heneage answered, more calmly. "He doesn't +come up to town so often this hot weather. Forgive me for being a bit +impatient, old fellow. I've got a fit of nerves, I think." + +"You want a change," Wrayson said earnestly. "There's no doubt +about that." + +"I am going away very soon," Heneage answered. "As soon as I can get off. +I don't mind telling you, Wrayson, that I've had a shock, and it has +upset me." + +Wrayson nodded sympathetically. + +"All right, old chap," he said. "I'm beastly sorry, but if you take my +advice, you'll get out of London as soon as you can. Go to Trouville or +Dinard, or some place where there's plenty of life. I shouldn't busy +myself in the country, if I were you. By the bye," he added, "there is +one more question I should like to ask you, if you don't mind." + +Heneage called a waiter and ordered more drinks. Then he turned to +Wrayson. + +"Well," he said, "go on!" + +"About that little brute, Barnes' brother. Is he about still?" + +Heneage's face darkened. He clenched his fist, but recovered himself with +a visible effort. + +"Yes!" he answered shortly, "he is about. He is everywhere. The little +brute haunts me! He dogs my footsteps, Wrayson. Sometimes I wonder that I +don't sweep him off the face of the earth." + +"But why?" Wrayson asked. "What does he want with you?" + +"I will tell you," Heneage answered. "When he first turned up, I was +interested in his story, as you know. We commenced working at the thing +together. You understand, Wrayson?" + +"Perfectly!" + +"Well--after a while it suited me--to drop it. Perhaps I told him so a +little abruptly. At any rate, he was disappointed. Now he has got an idea +in his brain. He believes that I have discovered something which I will +not tell him. He follows me about. He pesters me to death. He is a slave +to that one idea--a hideous, almost unnatural craving to get his hands +on the source of his brother's money. I think that he will very soon be +mad. To tell you the truth, I came in here to-night because I thought I +should be safe from him. I don't believe he has five shillings to get in +the place." + +Wrayson lit a cigarette and smoked for a moment in silence. Then he +turned towards his companion. + +"Heneage," he said, "I don't want to annoy you, but you must remember +that this matter means a good deal to me. I am forced to ask you a +question, and you must answer it. Have you really found anything out? You +don't often give a thing up without a reason." + +Heneage answered him with greater composure than he had expected, though +perhaps to less satisfactory effect. + +"Look here, Wrayson," he said, "you appreciate plain speaking, +don't you?" + +Wrayson nodded. Heneage continued: + +"You can go to hell with your questions! You understand that? It's +plain English." + +"Admirably simple," Wrayson answered, "and perfectly satisfactory." + +"What do you mean?" + +"It answers my question," Wrayson declared quietly. + +Heneage shrugged his shoulders. + +"You can get what satisfaction you like out of it," he said doggedly. + +"It isn't much," Wrayson admitted. "I wish I could induce you to treat me +a little more generously." + +Heneage looked at him with a curious gleam in his eyes. + +"Look here," he said. "Take my advice. Drop the whole affair. You see +what it's made of me. It'll do the same to you. I shan't tell you +anything! You can swear to that. I've done with it, Wrayson, done with +it! You understand that? Talk about something else, or leave me alone!" + +Wrayson looked at the man whom he had once called his friend. + +"You're in a queer sort of mood, Heneage," he said. + +"Let it go at that," Heneage answered. "Every man has a right to his +moods, hasn't he? No right to inflict them upon his friends, you'd say! +Perhaps not, but you know I'm a reasonable person as a rule. +Don't--don't--" + +He broke off abruptly in his sentence. His eyes were fixed upon a distant +corner of the room. Their expression was unfathomable, but Wrayson +shuddered as he looked away and followed their direction. Then he, too, +started. He recognized the miserable little figure whose presence a group +just broken up left revealed. Heneage rose softly to his feet. + +"Let us go before he sees us," he whispered hurriedly. "Look sharp!" + +But they were too late. Already he was on his way towards them, shambling +rather than walking down the room, an unwholesome, unattractive, even +repulsive figure. He seemed to have shrunken in size since his arrival in +England, and his brother's clothes, always too large, hung about him +loose and ungraceful. His tie was grimy; his shirt frayed; his trousers +turned up, but still falling over his heels; his hat, too large for him, +came almost to his ears. In the increased pallor and thinness of his +face, his dark eyes seemed to have come nearer together. He would have +been a ludicrous object but for the intense earnestness of his +expression. He came towards them with rapidly blinking eyes. He took no +notice of Heneage, but he insisted upon shaking hands with Wrayson. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "I am glad to see you again, sir. You always +treated me like a gentleman. Not like him," he added, motioning with his +head towards Heneage. "He's a thief, he is!" + +"Steady," Wrayson interrupted, "you mustn't call people names like that." + +"Why not?" Barnes asked. "He is a thief. He knows it. He knows who robbed +me of my money. And he won't tell. That's what I call being a thief." + +Wrayson glanced towards Heneage and was amazed at his demeanour. He had +shrunk back in his chair, and he was sitting with his hands in his +pockets and his eyes fixed upon the table. Of the two, his miserable +little accuser was the dominant figure. + +"He's very likely spending it now--my money!" Barnes continued. "Here +am I living on crusts and four-penny dinners, and begging my way in +here, and some one else is spending my money. Never mind! It may be my +turn yet! It may be only a matter of hours," he added, leaning over +towards them and showing his yellow teeth, "and I may have the laugh on +both of you." + +Heneage looked up quickly. He was obviously discomposed. + +"What do you mean?" he asked. + +Sydney Barnes indulged in the graceless but expressive proceeding of +sticking his tongue in his cheek. After which he turned to Wrayson. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "lend me a quid. I've got the flat to sleep in +for a few more weeks, but I haven't got money enough for a meal. I'll pay +you back some day--perhaps before you expect it." + +Wrayson produced a sovereign and handed it over silently. + +"If I were you," he said, "I'd spend my time looking for a situation, +instead of hunting about for this supposed fortune of your brother's." + +Barnes took the sovereign with hot, trembling fingers, and deposited it +carefully in his waistcoat pocket. Then he smiled in a somewhat +mysterious manner. + +"Mr. Wrayson," he said, "perhaps I'm not so far off, after all. Other +people can find out what he knows," he added, pointing at Heneage. "He +ain't the only one who can see through a brick wall. Say, Mr. Wrayson, +you've always treated me fair and square," he added, leaning towards him +and dropping his voice. "Can you tell me this? Did Morry ever go +swaggering about calling himself by any other name--bit more tony, eh?" + +Wrayson started. For a moment he did not reply. Thoughts were rushing +through his brain. Was he forestalled in his search for this girl? +Meanwhile, Barnes watched him with a cunning gleam in his deep-set eyes. + +"Such as Augustus Howard, eh? Real tony name that for Morry!" + +Wrayson, with a sudden instinctive knowledge, brushed him on one side, +and half standing up, gazed across the room at the corner from which his +questioner had come. With her back against the wall, her cheap prettiness +marred by her red eyes, her ill-arranged hair, and ugly hat, sat, beyond +a doubt, the girl for whom he had waited in the promenade. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +HIS WIFE + + +Wrayson drew a little breath and looked back at Sydney Barnes. + +"You asked me a question," he said. "I believe I have heard of your +brother calling himself by some such name." + +Barnes grasped him by the arm. + +"Look here," he said, "come and repeat that to the young lady over there. +She's with me. It won't do you any harm." + +Wrayson rose to his feet, but before he could move he felt Heneage's hand +fall upon his arm. + +"Where are you going, Wrayson?" he asked. + +Barnes looked up at him anxiously. His pale face seemed twisted +into a scowl. + +"Don't you interfere!" he exclaimed. "You've done me enough harm, you +have. You let Mr. Wrayson pass. He's coming with me." + +Heneage took no more notice of him than he would of a yapping terrier. He +looked over his head into Wrayson's eyes. + +"Wrayson," he said, "don't have anything more to do with this business. +Take my advice. I know more than you do about it. If you go on, I swear +to you that there is nothing but misery at the end." + +"I know more than you think I do," Wrayson answered quietly. "I know more +indeed than you have any idea of. If the end were in hell I should not +hold back." + +Heneage hesitated for a moment. He stood there with darkening face, an +obstinate, almost a threatening figure. Passers-by looked with a gleam of +interest at the oddly assorted trio, whose conversation was obviously far +removed from the ordinary chatter of the loungers about the place. One or +two made an excuse to linger by--it seemed possible that there might be +developments. Heneage, however, disappointed them. He turned suddenly +upon his heel and left the room. Those who had the curiosity to follow +along the corridor saw him, without glancing to the right or to the left, +descend the stairs and walk out of the building. He had the air of a man +who abandons finally a hopeless task. + +The look of relief in Barnes' face as he saw him go was a ludicrous +thing. He drew Wrayson at once towards the corner. + +"Queer thing about this girl," he whispered in his ear. "She ain't like +the others about here. She just comes to make inquiries about a friend +who's given her the chuck, and whose name she says was Howard. I believe +it's Morry she means. Just like him to take a toff's name!" + +"Wait a moment before we speak to her," Wrayson said. "How did you +find her out?" + +"She spoke to me," Barnes answered. "Asked me if my name was Howard, said +I was a bit like the man she was looking for. Then I palled up to her, +and I'm pretty certain Morry was her man. I want her to go to the flat +with me and see his clothes and picture, but she's scared. Mr. Wrayson, +you might do me a good turn. She'll come if you'd go too!" + +"Do you know why I am here to-night?" Wrayson asked. + +"No! Why?" + +"To meet that young woman of yours," Wrayson answered. + +Barnes looked at him in amazement. + +"What do you mean?" he asked quickly. "You don't know her, do you?" + +His sallow cheeks were paler than ever. His narrow eyes, furtively raised +to Wrayson's, were full of inquisitive fear. + +"No! I don't know her," Wrayson answered, "but I rather fancy, all the +same, that she is the young person whom I came here to meet to-night." + +Barnes waited breathlessly for an explanation. He did not say a word, but +his whole attitude was an insistent interrogation point. + +"You remember," Wrayson said, "that when you and I were pursuing these +investigations together, I made some inquiries of the woman at whose flat +your brother called on the night of his murder. I saw her again at Dinant +yesterday, and she told me of this young person. She also evidently +believed that the man for whom she was inquiring was your brother." + +Barnes nodded. + +"She told me that she was to have met a gentleman to-night," he said. +"Here, we must go and speak to her now, or she'll think that +something's up." + +He performed something that was meant for an introduction. + +"Friend of mine, Miss," he said, indicating Wrayson. "Knew my brother +well, lived in the flat just below him, in fact. Perhaps you'd like to +ask him a few questions." + +"There is only one question I want answered," the girl replied, with +straining eyes fixed upon Wrayson's face, and a little break in her tone. +"Shall I see him again? If Augustus was really--his brother--where is he? +What has happened to him?" + +There was a moment's silence. Sydney Barnes had evidently said nothing as +to his brother's tragic end. Wrayson could see, too, that the girl was on +the brink of hysterics, and needed careful handling. + +"We will tell you everything," he said presently. "But first of all +we have to decide whether your Augustus Howard and Morris Barnes were +the same person. I think that the best way for you to decide this +would be to come home to my flat. Mr. Barnes' is just above, and I +dare say you can recognize some of his brother's belongings, if he +really was--your friend." + +She rose at once. She was perfectly willing to go. They left the place +together and entered a four-wheeler. During the drive she scarcely opened +her lips. She sat in a corner looking absently out of the window, and +nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. She answered a remark of +Sydney Barnes' without turning her head. + +"I always watch the people," she said. "Wherever I am, I always look +out of the window. I have always hoped--that I might see Augustus again +that way." + +Wrayson, from his seat in the opposite corner of the cab, watched her +with growing sympathy. In her very conformity to type, she represented so +naturally a real and living unit of humanity. Her poor commonplace +prettiness was already on the wane, stamped out by the fear and trouble +of the last few months. Yet inane though her features, lacking altogether +strength or distinction, there was stamped into them something of that +dumb, dog-like fidelity to some object which redeemed them from utter +insignificance. Wrayson, as he watched her, found himself thinking more +kindly of the dead man himself. In his vulgar, selfish way, he had +probably been kind to her: he must have done something to have kindled +this flame of dogged, persevering affection. Already he scarcely doubted +that Morris Barnes and Augustus Howard had been the same person. Within a +very few minutes of her entering the flats there remained no doubt at +all. With a low moan, like a dumb animal mortally hurt, she sank down +upon the nearest chair, clasping the photograph which Sydney Barnes had +passed her in her hands. + +For a few moments there was silence. Then she looked up--at Wrayson. Her +lips moved but no words came. She began again. This time he was able to +catch the indistinct whisper. + +"Where is he?" + +Wrayson took a seat by her side upon the sofa. + +"You do not read the newspapers?" he asked. + +She shook her head. + +"Not much. My eyes are not very good, and it tires me to read." + +"I am afraid," he said gently, "that it will be bad news." + +A little sob caught in her throat. + +"Go on," she faltered. + +"He is dead," Wrayson said simply. + +She fainted quietly away. + +Wrayson hurried downstairs to his own flat for some brandy. When he +returned the girl was still unconscious. Her pocket was turned inside out +and the front of her dress was disordered. Sydney Barnes was bending +close over her. Wrayson pushed him roughly away. + +"You can wait, at least, until she is well," he said contemptuously. + +Sydney Barnes was wholly unabashed. He watched Wrayson pour brandy +between the girl's lips, bathe her temples, and chafe her hands. All the +time he stood doggedly waiting close by. No considerations of decency or +humanity would weigh with him for one single second. The fever of his +great desire still ran like fire through his veins. He did not think of +the girl as a human creature at all. Simply there was a pair of lips +there which might point out to him the way to his Paradise. + +She opened her eyes at last. Sydney Barnes came a step nearer, but +Wrayson pushed him once more roughly away. + +"You are feeling better?" he asked kindly. + +She nodded, and struggled up into a sitting posture. + +"Tell me," she said, "how did he die? It must have been quite sudden. Was +it an accident?--or--or--" + +He saw the terror in her eyes, and he spoke quickly. All the time he +found himself wondering how it was that she was guessing at the truth. + +"We are afraid," he said "that he was murdered. It is surprising that you +did not read about it in the papers." + +She shook her head. + +"I do not read much," she said, "and the name was different. Who was +it--that killed him?" + +"No one knows," he answered. + +"When was it?" she asked. + +He told her the date. She repeated it tearfully. + +"He was down with me the day before," she said. "He was terribly excited +all the time, and I know that he was a little afraid of something +happening to him. He had been threatened!" + +"Do you know by whom?" Wrayson asked. + +She shook her head. + +"He never told me," she answered. "He didn't tell me much. But he was +very, very good to me. I was at the refreshment-room at London Bridge +when I first met him. He used to come in and see me every day. Then he +began to take me out, and at last he found me a little house down at +Putney, and I was so happy. I had been so tired all my life," she added, +with a little sigh, "and down there I did nothing but rest and rest and +wait for him to come. It was too good to last, of course, but I didn't +think it would end like this!" + +Quietly but very persistently Sydney Barnes insisted on being heard. + +"It's my turn now," he said, standing by Wrayson's side. "Look here, +Miss, I'm his brother. You can see that, can't you?" + +"You are something like him," she admitted, "only he was much, much nicer +to look at than you." + +"Never mind that," he continued eagerly. "I'm his brother, his nearest +relative. Everything he left behind belongs to me!" + +"Not--quite everything," she protested. + +"What do you mean?" he asked sharply. + +"You may be his brother," she answered, "but I," holding out her left +hand a little nervously, "I was his wife!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +THE MURDERED MAN'S EFFECTS + + +Both men had been totally unprepared for the girl's timid avowal. To +Wrayson, however, after the first mild shock of surprise, it was of no +special import. To Sydney Barnes, although he made a speedy effort to +grapple with the situation, it came very much as a thunderclap. + +"You have your certificate?" he asked sharply. "You were married properly +in a church?" + +She nodded. "We were married at Dulwich Parish Church," she answered. "It +was nearly a year ago." + +"Very well," Sydney Barnes said. "It is lucky that I am here to look +after your interests. We divide everything, you know." + +She seemed about to cry. + +"I want Augustus," she murmured. "He was very good to me." + +"Look here," he said, "Augustus always seemed to have plenty of oof, +didn't he?" + +She nodded. + +"He was very generous with it, too," she declared. "He gave me lots and +lots of beautiful things." + +His eyes travelled over her hands and neck, destitute of ornaments. + +"Where are they?" he asked sharply. + +"I've had to sell them," she answered, "to get along at all, I hated to, +but I couldn't starve." + +The young man's face darkened. + +"Come," he said. "We'd better have no secrets from one another. You know +how to get at his money, I suppose?" + +She shook her head. + +"Indeed I don't know anything about it," she declared. + +"You must know where it came from," he persisted. + +"I don't," she repeated. "Indeed I don't. He never told me and I never +asked him. I understood that he had made it in South Africa." + +Sydney Barnes wiped the perspiration from his forehead. + +"Look here," he said in a voice which, notwithstanding his efforts to +control it, trembled a little, "this is a very serious matter for us. You +don't want to go back to the refreshment bar again, do you?" + +"I don't care what I do," she answered dully. "I hated that, but I shall +hate everything now that he is gone." + +"It's only for a day or two you'll feel like that," he declared. "We've +got a right, you and I, to whatever Morry left behind, and whatever +happens I mean to have my share. Look around you!" + +It was not an inspiring spectacle. The room was dirty, and almost devoid +of furniture. + +"All that I've had out of it so far," he declared, "is free quarters +here. The rent's paid up to the end of the year. I've had to sell the +furniture bit by bit to keep alive. It was a cheap lot, cheap and showy, +and it fetched jolly little. Morry always did like to have things that +looked worth more than he gave for them. Even his jewellery was +sham--every bally bit of it. There wasn't a real pearl or a real diamond +amongst the lot. But there's no doubt about the money. I've had the +bank-book. He was worth a cool two thousand a year was Morry--that's +five hundred each quarter day, you understand, and somewhere or other +there must be the bonds or securities from which this money came. He +never kept them here. I'll swear to that. Therefore they must be +somewhere that you ought to know about." + +She nodded wearily. + +"Very likely," she said. "I have a parcel he gave me to take care of." + +The effect of her simple words on Barnes was almost magical. The dull +colour streamed into his sallow cheeks, he shook all over with +excitement. His voice, when he spoke, was almost hysterical. He had been +so near to despair. This indeed had been almost his last hope. + +"A parcel!" he gasped. "A parcel! What sort of a parcel? Did he say that +it was important?" + +"It's just a long envelope tied up with red tape and sealed," she +answered. "Yes! he made a great fuss about leaving it with me." + +"Tell us all about it," he demanded greedily. "Oh, Lord! Oh, Lord! +Be quick!" + +"It must have been almost the very day it happened," she said, with a +little shudder. "He came down in the afternoon and he seemed a bit queer, +as though he had something on his mind. He took out the envelope once or +twice and looked at it. Once he said to me, 'Agnes,' he said, 'there are +men in London who, if they knew that I carried this with me, would kill +me for it. I was frightened, and I begged him to leave it somewhere. I +think he said that he had to have it always with him, because he couldn't +think of a safe hiding-place for it. Just as he was going, though, he +came back and took it out of his pocket once more." + +"He left it with you?" Barnes exclaimed. "You have it safe?" + +She nodded. + +"I was going to tell you. 'Look here, Agnes,' he said, 'I'm nervous +to-night. I don't want to carry this about with me. I shall want it +to-morrow and I'll come down for it. To-night's a dangerous night for +me to be carrying it about.' Those were just about his last words. He +gave me the packet and I begged him to be careful. Then he kissed me +and off he went, smoking a cigar, and as cheerful as though he were +going to a wedding." + +She began to cry again, but Barnes broke in upon her grief. + +"Didn't he tell you anything more about it?" he demanded. + +"He told me--if anything happened to him," she sobbed, "to open it." + +"We must do so," he declared. "We must do so at once. There must be a +quarter's dividends overdue. We can get the money to-morrow, and +then--oh! my God!" he exclaimed, as though the very anticipation made him +faint. "Where is the packet?" + +"At the bottom of my tin trunk in my rooms," she answered. "I had to +leave the house. I couldn't pay the rent any longer." + +"Where are the rooms?" he demanded. "We'll go there now." + +"In Labrador Street," she answered. "It's a poor part, but I've only a +few shillings in the world." + +"We'll have a cab," he declared, rising. "Mr. Wrayson will lend us the +money, perhaps?" + +"I will come with you," Wrayson said quietly. + +"We needn't bother you to do that," Sydney Barnes declared, with a +suspicious glance. + +The young woman looked towards him appealingly. He nodded reassuringly. + +"I think," he said, "that it will be better for me to come. I am +concerned in this business after all, you know." + +"I don't see how," Barnes declared sullenly. "_If_ this young lady is my +sister-in-law, surely she and I can settle up our own affairs." + +Wrayson stood with his back to the door, facing them. + +"I hope," he said, "that you will not, either of you, be disappointed in +what you find in that packet. But I think it is only right to warn you. I +have reason to believe that you will not find any securities or bonds +there at all! I believe that you will find that packet to consist of +merely a bundle of old letters and a photograph!" + +Barnes spat upon the floor. He was shaking with fright and anger. + +"I don't believe it," he declared. "What can you know about it?" + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"Look here," he said, "the matter is easily settled. We will put this +young lady in a cab and she shall bring the packet to my flat below. You +and she shall open it, and if you find securities there I have no more to +say, except to wish you both luck. If, on the other hand, you find the +letters, it will be a different matter." + +The girl had risen to her feet. + +"I would rather go alone," she said. "If you will pay my cab, I will +bring the packet straight back." + +Wrayson and Barnes waited in the former's flat. Barnes drank two brandy +and sodas, and walked restlessly up and down the room. Wrayson was busy +at the telephone, and carried on a conversation for some moments in +French. Directly he had finished, Barnes turned upon him. + +"Whom were you talking to?" he demanded. + +"A friend of yours," he answered. "I have asked her to come round for a +few minutes." + +"A friend of mine?" + +"The Baroness!" + +The colour burned once more in his cheeks. He looked down at his attire +with dissatisfaction. + +"I didn't want to see her again just yet," he muttered. Wrayson smiled. + +"She won't look at your clothes," he remarked, "and I rather want +her here." + +Barnes was suddenly suspicious. + +"What for?" he demanded. "What has she got to do with the affair? I won't +have strangers present." + +"My young friend," Wrayson said, "I may just as well warn you that I +think you are going to be disappointed. I am almost certain that I know +the contents of that packet. You will find that it consists, as I told +you before, not of securities at all, but simply a few old letters." + +Barnes' eyes narrowed. + +"Whatever they are," he said, "they meant a couple of thousand a year to +Morry, and they were worth his life to somebody! How do you account for +that, eh?" + +"You want the truth?" Wrayson asked. + +"Yes!" + +"Your brother was a blackmailer!" + +The breath came through Barnes' teeth with a little hiss. He realized +his position almost at once. He was trapped. + +He walked up to Wrayson's side. His voice shook, but he was in +deadly earnest. + +"Look here," he said, "the contents of that packet, whatever they may be, +are mine--mine and hers! You have nothing to do with the matter at all. I +will not have you in the room when they are opened." + +Wrayson shrugged his shoulders. + +"The packet will be opened here," he said, "and I shall certainly +be present." + +Barnes ground his teeth. + +"If you touch one of those papers or letters or whatever they may be, you +shall be prosecuted for theft," he declared. "I swear it!" + +Wrayson smiled. + +"I will run the risk," he declared. "Ah! Baroness, this is kind of you," +he added, throwing open the door and ushering her in. "There is a young +friend of yours here who is dying to renew his acquaintance with you." + +She smiled delightfully at Sydney Barnes, and threw back her cloak. +She had just come in from the opera, and diamonds were flashing +from her neck and bosom. Her gown was exquisite, the touch of her +fingers an enchantment. It was impossible for him to resist the +spell of her presence. + +"You have been very unkind," she declared. "You have not been to see me +for a very long time. I do not think that I shall forgive you. What do +you say, Mr. Wrayson? Do you think that he deserves it?" + +Wrayson smiled as he threw open the door once more. He felt that the next +few minutes might prove interesting. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +THE WIDOW'S ULTIMATUM + + +Sydney Barnes stepped quickly forward. If Wrayson had permitted it, he +would have snatched the packet from the girl's fingers. Wrayson, however, +saw his intent and intervened. He stepped forward and led her to his +writing table. + +"I want you to sit down here quietly and open the envelope," he said, +switching on the electric lamp. "That is what he told you to do, isn't +it? There may be a message for you inside." + +She looked round a little fearfully. The presence of the Baroness +evidently discomposed her. + +"I thought," she said, "that we were going to be alone, that there would +have been no one here but him and you." + +"The lady is a friend of mine," Wrayson said, "and it is very likely that +she may be interested in the contents of this envelope." + +She untied the string with trembling fingers. Wrayson handed her a +paper-knife and she cut open the top of the envelope. Then she looked up +at him appealingly. + +"I--I don't want to look inside," she half sobbed. + +Wrayson took up the envelope and shook out its contents before her. There +was a letter addressed simply to Agnes, and a small packet wrapped in +brown oilcloth and secured with dark-green ribbon. Sydney Barnes' hand +stole out, but Wrayson was too quick for him. He changed his position, +so as to interpose his person between the packet and any one in the room. + +"Read the letter," he told the girl. "It is addressed to you." + +She handed it to him. Her eyes were blinded with tears. + +"Read it for me, please," she said. + +He tore open the envelope and read the few lines scrawled upon a half +sheet of notepaper. He read them very softly into her ear, but the words +were audible enough to all of them. + +"MY DEAR AGNES,--I have just discovered that there are some people on my +track who mean mischief. I have a secret they want to rob me of. I seem +to be followed about everywhere I go. What they want is the little packet +in this envelope. I'm leaving it with you because I daren't carry it +about with me. I've had two narrow escapes already. + +"Now you'll never read this letter unless anything happens to me. I've +made up my mind to sell this packet for what I can get for it, and take +you with me out of the country. It'll be a matter of ten thousand quid, +and I only wish I had my fingers on it now and was well out of the +country. But this is where the rub comes in. If anything happens to me +before I can bring this off, I'm hanged if I know what to tell you to do +with the packet. It's worth its weight in banknotes to more persons than +one, but there's a beastly risk in having anything to do with it. I think +you'd better burn it! There's money in it, but I don't see how you could +handle it. Burn it, Agnes. It's too risky a business for you! I only +hope that in a week or so I shall burn this letter myself, and you and I +will be on our way to America. + +"So long, Nessie, + +"from your loving husband. + +"P.S.--By the bye, my real name is Morris Barnes!" + +There was an instant's pause as Wrayson finished reading. Then there came +a long-drawn-out whisper from Sydney Barnes. He was close to the girl, +and his eyes were riveted upon the little packet. + +"Ten--thousand--pounds! Ah! Five thousand each! Give me the packet, +sister-in-law!" + +She stretched out her hand as though to obey. Wrayson checked her. + +"Remember," he said, "what your husband told you. You were to burn that +packet. He was right. Your husband was a blackmailer, Mrs. Barnes, and he +paid the penalty of his infamous career with his life. I shall not allow +either you or your brother-in-law to follow in his footsteps!" + +She flashed an indignant glance upon him. + +"Who are you calling names?" she demanded. "He was my husband and he was +good to me!" + +"I beg your pardon and his," Wrayson said. "I was wrong to use such a +word. But I want you to understand that to attempt to make money by the +contents of that packet is a crime! Your husband paid the penalty. He +knew what he was doing when he commanded you to burn it." + +She looked towards Sydney Barnes. + +"What do you say?" she asked. + +The words leaped from his mouth. He was half beside himself. + +"I say let us open the packet and look it through ourselves before we +decide. What the devil business is it of anybody else's. He was my +brother and your husband. These people weren't even his friends. They've +no right to poke their noses into our affairs. You tell them so; +sister-in-law. Give me the packet. Come away with me somewhere where we +can look it through quietly. I'm fair and straight. It shall be halves, I +swear. I say, sister-in-law Agnes, you don't want to go back to the +refreshment bar, do you?" + +"No!" she moaned. "No! no!" + +"Nor do I want to go back to the gutter," he declared fiercely. +"But money isn't to be had for the picking up. Ten thousand pounds +Morris expected to get for that packet. It's hard if we can't make +half of that." + +She looked up at Wrayson as though for advice. + +"Mrs. Barnes," he said gravely, "I can tell you what is in that packet. +You can see for yourself, then, whether it is anything by means of which +you can make money. It consists of the letters of a very famous woman to +the man whom she loved. They were stolen from him on the battlefield. I +do not wish to pain you, but the thief was Morris Barnes. The friends of +the lady who wrote them paid your brother two thousand pounds a year. Her +enemies offered him--ten thousand pounds down. There is the secret of +Morris Barnes' wealth." + +Sydney Barnes leaned over the back of her chair. His hot whisper seemed +to burn her cheek. + +"Keep the packet, sister-in-law. Don't part!" + +"Your brother-in-law," Wrayson remarked, "is evidently disposed to +continue your husband's operations. Remember you are not at liberty to +do as he asks. Your husband's words are plain. He orders you to burn +the packet." + +"How do I know that you are telling me the truth?" she asked abruptly. + +"Undo the packet," he suggested. "A glance inside should show you." + +For some reason or other she seemed dissatisfied. She pointed towards +the Baroness. + +"What is she doing here?" she asked. + +"She is a friend of the woman who wrote those letters," Wrayson answered. +"I want her to see them destroyed." + +There was silence for several moments. The girl's fingers closed upon the +packet. She turned round and faced them all. She faced them all, but she +addressed more particularly Wrayson. + +"You are wondering why I hesitate," she said slowly. "Augustus said +destroy the packet, and I suppose I ought to do it." + +"By God, you shan't!" Sydney Barnes broke in fiercely. "Morry didn't know +that I should be here to look after things." + +She waited until he had finished, but she seemed to take very little, if +any, notice of his intervention. + +"It isn't," she continued, "that I'm afraid to go back to the bar. I'll +have to go to work some where, I suppose, but it isn't that. I want to +know," she leaned a little forward,--"I want to know who it is that has +robbed me of my husband. I don't care what he was to other people! He was +very good to me, and I loved him. I should like to see the person who +killed him hanged!" + +Wrayson, for a moment, was discomposed. + +"But that," he said, "has nothing to do with obeying your husband's +directions about that packet." + +She looked at him with tired eyes and changeless expression. + +"Hasn't it?" she asked. "I am not so sure. You have explained about these +letters. It is quite certain that my husband was killed by either the +friends or the enemies of the woman who wrote these letters. I think that +if I take this packet to the police it will help them to find the +murderer!" + +Her new attitude was a perplexing one. Wrayson glanced at the Baroness +as though for counsel. She stepped forward and laid her hand upon the +girl's shoulder. + +"There is one thing which you must not forget, Mrs. Barnes," she said +quietly. "Your husband knew that he was running a great risk in keeping +these letters and making a living out of them. His letter to you shows +that he was perfectly aware of it. Of course, it is a very terrible, a +very inexcusable thing that he should have been killed. But he knew +perfectly well that he was in danger. Can't you sympathize a little with +the poor woman whose life he made so miserable? Let her have her letters +back. You will not find her ungrateful!" + +The girl turned slowly round and faced the Baroness. They might indeed +have represented the opposite poles in femininity. From the tips of her +perfectly manicured fingers to the crown of her admirably coiffured hair, +the Baroness stood for all that was elegant and refined in the innermost +circles of her sex. Agnes would have looked more in place behind the +refreshment bar from which Morris Barnes had brought her. Her dress of +cheap shiny silk was ill fitting and hopeless, her hat with its faded +flowers and crushed shape an atrocity, boots and gloves, and brooch of +artificial gems--all were shocking. Little was left of her pale-faced +prettiness. The tragedy which had stolen into her life had changed all +that. Yet she faced the Baroness without flinching. She seemed sustained +by the suppressed emotion of the moment. + +"He was my man," she said fiercely, "and no one had any right to take him +away from me. He was my husband, and he was brutally murdered. You tell +me that I must give up the letters for the sake of the woman who wrote +them! What do I care about her! Is she as unhappy as I am, I wonder? I +will not give up the letters," she added, clasping them in her hand, +"except--on one condition." + +"If it is a reasonable one," the Baroness said, smiling, "there will be +no difficulty." + +Agnes faced her a little defiantly. + +"It depends upon what you call reasonable," she said. "Find out for me +who it was that killed my husband, you or any one of you, and you shall +have the letters." + +Sydney Barnes smiled, and left off nervously tugging at his moustache. If +this was not exactly according to his own ideas, it was, at any rate, a +step in the right direction. Wrayson was evidently perplexed. The +Baroness adopted a persuasive attitude. + +"My dear girl," she said, "we don't any of us know who killed your +husband. After all, what does it matter? It is terribly sad, of course, +but he can't be brought back to life again. You have yourself to think +of, and how you are to live in the future. Give me that packet, I will +destroy it before your eyes, and I promise you that you shall have no +more anxiety about your future." + +The girl rose to her feet. The packet was already transferred to the +bosom of her dress. + +"I have told you my terms," she said. "Some of you know all about +it, I dare say! Tell me the truth and you shall have the packet, any +one of you." + +Wrayson leaned forward. + +"The truth is simple," he said earnestly. "We do not know. I can answer +for myself. I think that I can answer for the others." + +"Then the packet shall help me to find out," she declared. + +The Baroness shook her head. + +"It will not do, my dear girl," she said quietly. "The packet is +not yours." + +The girl faced her defiantly. + +"Who says that it is not mine?" she demanded. + +"I do," the Baroness replied. + +"And I!" Wrayson echoed. + +"And I say that it is hers--hers and mine," Sydney Barnes declared. "She +shall do what she likes with it. She shall not be made to give it up." + +"Mrs. Barnes," the Baroness declared briskly, "you must try to be +reasonable. We will buy the packet from you." + +Sydney Barnes nodded his head approvingly. + +"That," he said, "is what I call talking common sense." + +"We will give you a thousand pounds for it," the Baroness continued. + +"It's not enough, not near enough," Barnes called out hastily. "Don't you +listen to them, Agnes." + +"I shall not," she answered. "Ten thousand pounds would not buy it. I +have said my last word. I am going now. In three days' time I shall +return. I will give up the letters then in exchange for the name of my +husband's murderer. If I do not get that, I shall go to the police!" + +She rose and walked out of the room. They all followed her. The Baroness +whispered in Wrayson's ear, but he shook his head. + +"It is impossible," he said firmly. "We cannot take them from her +by force." + +The Baroness shrugged her shoulders. She caught the girl up upon the +stairs and they descended together. Wrayson and Sydney Barnes followed, +the latter biting his nails nervously and maintaining a gloomy silence. +At the entrance, Wrayson whistled for a cab and handed Agnes in. Sydney +Barnes attempted to follow her. + +"I will see my sister-in-law home," he declared; but Wrayson's hand fell +upon his arm. + +"No!" he said. "Mrs. Barnes can take care of herself. She is not to be +interfered with." + +She nodded back at him from the cab. + +"I don't want him," she said. "I don't want any one. In three days' time +I will return." + +"And until then you will not part with the letters?" Wrayson said. + +"Until then," she answered, "I promise." + +The cab drove off. Sydney Barnes turned upon Wrayson, white and venomous. + +"Where do I come in here?" he demanded fiercely. + +"I sincerely trust," Wrayson answered suavely, "that you are not coming +in at all. But you, too, can return in three days." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +INEFFECTUAL WOOING + + +"At last!" Wrayson said to himself, almost under his breath. "Shall we +have a hansom, Louise, or do you care for a walk?" + +"A walk, by all means," she answered hurriedly. + +"It is not far, is it?" + +"A mile--a little more perhaps," he answered. + +"You are sure that you are not tired?" + +"Tired only of sitting still," she answered. "We had a delightful +crossing. This way, isn't it?" + +They left the Grosvenor Hotel, where Louise, with Madame de Melbain, had +arrived about an hour ago, and turned towards Battersea. Louise began to +talk, nervously, and with a very obvious desire to keep the conversation +to indifferent subjects. Wrayson humoured her for some time. They spoke +of the journey, suddenly determined upon by Madame de Melbain on receipt +of his telegram, of the beauty of St. Etarpe, of the wonderful +reappearance of her brother. + +"I can scarcely realize even now," she said, "that he is really alive. He +is so altered. He seems a different person altogether." + +"He has gone through a good deal," Wrayson remarked. + +She sighed. + +"Poor Duncan!" she murmured. + +"He is very much to be pitied," Wrayson said seriously. "I, at any rate, +can feel for him." + +He turned towards her as he spoke, and his words were charged with +meaning. She began quickly to speak of something else, but he +interrupted her. + +"Louise," he said, "is London so far from St. Etarpe?" + +"What do you mean?" she asked. + +"I think that you know very well," he answered. "I am sure that you do. +At St. Etarpe you were content to accept what, believe me, is quite +inevitable. Here--well, you have been doing all you can to avoid me, +haven't you?" + +"Perhaps," she admitted. "St. Etarpe was an interlude. I told you so. You +ought to have understood that." + +They entered the Park, and Wrayson was silent for a few minutes. He led +the way towards an empty seat. + +"Let us sit down," he said, "and talk this out." + +She hesitated. + +"I think--" she began, but he interrupted her ruthlessly. + +"If you prefer it, I will come to the Baroness with you," he declared. + +She shrugged her shoulders and sat down. + +"Very well," she said, "but I warn you that I am in a bad temper. I am +hot and tired and dusty. We shall probably quarrel." + +He looked at her critically. She was a little pale, perhaps, but there +was nothing else to indicate that she had just arrived from a journey. +Her dress of dull black glace silk was cool and spotless, her hat and +veil were immaculate. Always she had the air of having just come from the +hands of an experienced maid. From the tips of her patent shoes to the +fall of her veil, she was orderly and correct. + +"It takes two," he said, "to quarrel. I shall not quarrel with you. All +that I ask from you is a realization of the fact that we are engaged to +be married." + +She withdrew the hand which he had calmly possessed himself of. + +"We are nothing of the sort," she declared. + +He looked puzzled. + +"Perhaps," he remarked, "I forgot to mention the matter last time I saw +you, but I quite thought that you would take it for granted. In case I +was forgetful, please let me impress the fact upon you now. We are going +to be married, and very shortly. In fact, the sooner the better." + +Of her own free will she laid her hand upon his. He fancied that behind +her veil the tears had gathered in her eyes. + +"Dear friend," she said softly, "I cannot marry you! I shall never +marry any one. Will you please believe that? It will make it so much +easier for me." + +He was a little taken aback. She had changed her methods suddenly, and he +had had no time to adapt himself to them. + +"Don't hate me, please," she murmured. "Indeed, it would make me very +happy if we could be friends." + +He laughed a little unnaturally, and turned in his seat until he was +facing her. + +"Would you mind lifting your veil for a moment, Louise?" he asked her. + +She obeyed him with fingers which trembled a little. He saw then that the +tears had indeed been in her eyes. Her lips quivered. She looked at him +sadly, but very wistfully. + +"Thank you!" he said. "Now would you mind asking yourself whether +friendship between us is possible! Remember St. Etarpe, and ask yourself +that! Remember our seat amongst the roses--remember what you will of that +long golden day." + +She covered her face with her hands. + +"Ah, no!" he went on. "You know yourself that only one thing is possible. +I cannot force you into my arms, Louise. If you care to take up my life +and break it in two, you can do it. But think what it means! I am not +rich, but I am rich enough to take you where you will, to live with you +in any country you desire. I don't know what your scruples are--I shall +never ask you again. But, dear, you must not! You must not send me away." + +She was silent. She had dropped her veil and her head had sunk a little. + +"If I believed that there was anybody else," he continued, "I would go +away and leave you alone. If I doubted for a single moment that I could +make you happy, I would not trouble you any more. But you belong to me, +Louise! You have taken up your place in my life, in my heart! I cannot +live without you! I do not think that you can live without me! You +mustn't try, dear! You mustn't!" + +He held her unresisting hand, but her face was hidden from him. + +"What it is that you fancy comes between us I cannot tell," he continued, +more gravely. "Only let me tell you this. We are no longer in any danger +from Stephen Heneage. He has abandoned his quest altogether. He has told +me so with his own lips." + +"You are sure of that?" she asked softly. + +"Absolutely," he answered. + +She hesitated for a moment. He remained purposely silent. He was anxious +to try and comprehend the drift of her thoughts. + +"Do you know why?" she asked. "Did he find the task too difficult, or did +he relinquish it from any other motive?" + +"I am not sure," Wrayson answered. "I met him the night before last. He +was very much altered. He had the appearance of a man altogether +unnerved. Perhaps it was my fancy, but I got the idea--" + +"Well?" she demanded eagerly. + +"That he had come across something in the course of his investigations +which had given him a shock," he said. "He seemed all broken up. Of +course, it may have been something else altogether. At any rate, I have +his word for it. He has ceased his investigations altogether, and broken +with Sydney Barnes." + +The afternoon was warm, but she shivered as she rose a little abruptly to +her feet. He laid his hand upon her arm. + +"Not without my answer," he begged. + +She shook her head sadly. + +"My very dear friend," she said sadly, "you must always be. That is all!" + +He took his place by her side. + +"Your very dear friend," he repeated. "Well, it is a relationship I don't +know much about. I haven't had many friendships amongst your sex. Tell me +exactly what my privileges would be." + +"You will learn that," she said, "in time." + +He shook his head. + +"I think not," he declared. "Friendship, to be frank with you, would not +satisfy me in the least." + +"Then I must lose you altogether," she murmured, in a low tone. + +"I don't think so," he affirmed coolly. "I consider that you belong to me +already. You are only postponing the time when I shall claim you." + +She made no remark, and behind her veil her face told him little. A +moment later they issued from the Park and stood on the pavement before +the Baroness' flat. She held out her hand without a word. + +"I think," he said, "that I should like to come in and see the Baroness." + +"Not now," she begged. "We shall meet again at dinner-time." + +"Where?" he asked eagerly. + +"Madame desired me to ask you to join us at the Grosvenor," she answered, +"at half-past eight." + +"I shall be delighted," he answered, promptly. "You nearly forgot +to tell me." + +She shook her head. + +"No! I didn't," she said. "I should not have let you go away without +giving you her message." + +"And you will let me bring you home afterwards?" + +"We shall be delighted," she answered. "I shall be with Amy, of course." + +He smiled as he raised his hat and let her pass in. + +"The Baroness," he said, "is always kind." + +He stood for a moment on the pavement. Then he glanced at his watch and +hailed a cab. + +"The Sheridan Club," he told the man. He had decided to appeal to +the Colonel. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +THE COLONEL'S MISSION + + +Wrayson was greeted enthusiastically, as he entered the club +billiard-room, by a little circle of friends, unbroken except for the +absence of Stephen Heneage. The Colonel came across and laid his hand +affectionately on his arm. + +"How goes it, Herbert?" he asked. "The seabreezes haven't tanned +you much." + +"I'm all right," Wrayson declared. "Had a capital time." + +"You'll dine here to-night, Herbert?" + +Wrayson shook his head. + +"I meant to," he declared, "but another engagement's turned up. No! I +don't want to play pool, Mason. Can't stop. Colonel, do me a favour." + +The Colonel, who was always ready to do any one a favour, signified his +willingness promptly enough. But even then Wrayson hesitated. + +"I want to talk to you for a few minutes," he said, "without all these +fellows round. Should you mind coming down into the smoking-room?" + +The Colonel rose promptly from his seat. + +"Not a bit in the world," he declared. "We'll go into the +smoking-room. Scarcely a soul there. Much cooler, too. Bring your +drink. See you boys later." + +They found two easy-chairs in the smoking-room, of which they were the +sole occupants. The Colonel cut off the end of his cigar and made +himself comfortable. + +"Now, my young friend," he said, "proceed." + +Wrayson did not beat about the bush. + +"It's about your daughter Louise, Colonel," he said. "She won't +marry me!" + +The Colonel pinched his cigar reflectively. + +"She always was a most peculiar girl," he affirmed. "Does she give +any reasons?" + +"That's just what she won't do," Wrayson explained. "That's just why I've +come to you. I--I--Colonel, I'm fond of her. I never expected to feel +like it about any woman." + +The Colonel nodded sympathetically. + +"And although it may sound conceited to say so," Wrayson continued, "I +believe--no! I'm sure that she's fond of me. She's admitted it. There!" + +The Colonel smiled understandingly. + +"Well." he said, "then where's the trouble? You don't want my consent. +You know that." + +"Louise won't marry me," Wrayson repeated. "That's the trouble. She won't +explain her attitude. She simply declares that marriage for her is an +impossibility." + +The Colonel sighed. + +"I'm afraid," he murmured, regretfully, "that my daughter is a fool." + +"She is anything but that," Wrayson declared. "She has some scruple. What +it is I can't imagine. Of course, at first I thought it was because we +were, both of us, involved in that Morris Barnes affair. But I know now +that it isn't that. Heneage, who threatened me, and indirectly her, has +chucked the whole business. Such danger as there was is over. I--" + +"Interrupting you for one moment," the Colonel said quietly, "what has +become of Heneage?" + +"He's in a very queer way," Wrayson answered. "You know he started on hot +to solve this Morris Barnes business. He warned us both to get out of the +country. Well, I saw him last night, and he was a perfect wreck. He +looked like a man just recovering from a bout of dissipation, or +something of the sort." + +"Did you speak to him?" the Colonel asked. + +"I was with him some time," Wrayson answered. "His manner was just as +changed as his appearance." + +The Colonel was looking, for him, quite grave. His cigar had gone out, +and he forgot to relight it. + +"Dear me," he said, "I am sorry to hear this. Did he allude to the Morris +Barnes affair at all?" + +"He did," Wrayson answered. "He gave me to understand, in fact, that he +had discovered a little more than he wanted to." + +The Colonel stretched out his hand for a match, and relit his cigar. + +"You believe, then," he said, "that Heneage has succeeded in solving the +mystery of Barnes' murder, and is keeping the knowledge to himself?" + +"That was the conclusion I came to," Wrayson admitted. + +The Colonel smoked for a moment or two in thoughtful silence. + +"Well," he said, "it isn't like Heneage. I always looked upon him as a +man without nerves, a man who would carry through any purpose he set +himself to, without going to pieces about it. Shows how difficult it is +to understand the most obvious of us." + +Wrayson nodded. + +"But after all," he said, "it wasn't to talk about Heneage that I +brought you down here. What I want to know, Colonel, is if you can help +me at all with Louise." + +The Colonel's forehead was furrowed with perplexity. + +"My dear Herbert," he declared, "there is no man in the world I would +sooner have for a son-in-law. But what can I do? Louise wouldn't listen +to me in any case. I haven't any authority or any influence over her. I +say it to my sorrow, but it's the truth. If it were my little girl down +at home, now, it would be a different matter. But Louise has taken her +life into her own hands. She has not spoken to me for years. She +certainly would not listen to my advice." + +"Then if you cannot help me directly, Colonel," Wrayson continued, "can +you help me indirectly? I have asked you a question something like this +before, but I want to repeat it. I have told you that Louise refuses to +marry me. She has something on her mind, some scruple, some fear. Can you +form any idea as to what it may be?" + +The Colonel was silent for an unusually long time. He was leaning back in +his chair, looking up through the cloud of blue tobacco smoke to the +ceiling. In reflection his features seemed to have assumed a graver and +somewhat weary expression. + +"Yes!" he said at last, "I think that I can." + +Wrayson felt his heart jump. His eyes were brighter. An influx of new +life seemed to have come to him. He leaned forward eagerly. + +"You will tell me what it is, Colonel?" he begged. + +The Colonel looked at him with a queer little smile. + +"I am not sure that I can do that, Herbert," he said. "I am not sure +that it would help you if I did. And you are asking me rather more than +you know." + +Wrayson felt a little chill of discouragement. + +"Colonel," he said, "I am in your hands. But I love your daughter, and I +swear that I would make her happy." + +The Colonel looked at his watch. + +"Do you know where Louise is?" he asked quietly. + +"Number 17, Frederic Mansions, Battersea," Wrayson answered. + +The Colonel rose to his feet. + +"I will go down and see her," he said simply. "You had better wait here +for me. I will come straight back." + +"Colonel, you're a brick," Wrayson declared, walking with him +towards the door. + +"I'll do my best, Herbert," he answered quietly, "but I can't promise. I +can't promise anything." + +Wrayson watched him leave the club and step into a hansom. He walked a +little more slowly than usual, his head was a little bent, and he passed +a club acquaintance in the hall without his customary greeting. Wrayson +retraced his steps and ascended towards the billiard-room, with his first +enthusiasm a little damped. Was his errand, he wondered, so grievously +distasteful to his old friend, or was the Colonel losing at last the +magnificent elasticity and vigour which had kept him so long independent +of the years? + +There were others besides Wrayson who noticed a certain alteration in the +Colonel when he re-entered the billiard-room an hour or so later. His +usual greeting was unspoken, he sank a little heavily into a chair, and +he called for a drink without waiting for some one to share it with him. +They gathered round him sympathetically. + +"Feeling the heat a bit, Colonel?" + +"Anything wrong downstairs?" + +The Colonel recovered himself promptly. He beamed upon them all +affectionately, and set down an empty tumbler with a little sigh of +satisfaction. + +"I'm all right, boys," he declared. "I couldn't find a cab--had to walk +further than I meant, and I wanted a drink badly. Wrayson, come over +here. I want to talk to you." + +Wrayson sat down by his side. + +"I've done the best I could," the Colonel said. "Things may not come all +right for you quite at once, but within a week I fancy it'll be all +squared up. I've found out why she refused to marry you, and you can take +my word for it that within a week the cause will be removed." + +"You're a brick, Colonel," Wrayson declared heartily. "There's only one +thing more I'd love to have you to tell me." + +"I'm afraid--" the Colonel began. + +"That you and Louise were reconciled," Wrayson declared. "Colonel, there +can't be anything between you two, of all the people in the world, there +can't be anything sufficient to keep you and her, father and daughter, +completely apart." + +"You are quite right, Wrayson," the Colonel assented, a little more +cheerfully. "Well, you may find that all will come right very soon now. +By the by, I've been talking to the Baroness. I want you to let me be at +your rooms to-morrow night." + +Wrayson hesitated for a moment. + +"You know how we stand?" he asked. + +"Exactly," the Colonel answered. "I only wish that I had known before. +You will have no objection to my coming, I suppose?" + +"None at all," Wrayson declared. "But, Colonel! there is one more +question that I must ask you. Did Louise speak to you about her brother?" + +The Colonel nodded. + +"She blamed me, of course," he said slowly, "because I had never told +her. It was his own desire, and I think that he was right. I have +telegraphed for him to come over. He will be here to-night or to-morrow." + +Wrayson left the club, feeling almost light-hearted. It was the old story +over again--the Colonel to the rescue! + + + + +CHAPTER XL + +BLACKMAIL + + +Sydney Barnes staggered into his apartment with a little exclamation +of relief which was almost a groan. He slammed the door and sank into +an easy-chair. With both his hands he was grasping it so that his +fingers were hot and wet with perspiration. At last he had obtained +his soul's desire! + +He sat there for several minutes without moving. The blinds were close +drawn and the room was in darkness. Gradually he began to be afraid. He +rose, and with trembling fingers struck a match. On the corner of the +table--fortunately he knew exactly where to find it--was a candle. He lit +it, and holding it over his head, peered fearfully around. Convinced at +last that he was alone, he set it down again, wiped the perspiration from +his forehead, and opening a cupboard in the chiffonnier, produced a +bottle and a glass. + +He poured out some spirits and drank it. Then, after rummaging for +several moments in his coat pocket, he produced several crumpled +cigarettes of a cheap variety. One of these he proceeded to smoke, +whilst, with trembling fingers, he undid the packet which he had been +carrying, and began a painstaking study of its contents. A delicate +perfume stole out into the room from those closely pressed sheets, so +eagerly clutched in his yellow-stained fingers. A little bunch of crushed +violets slipped to the floor unheeded. Ghoul-like he bent over the pages +of delicate writing, the intimate, passionate cry of a soul seeking for +its mate. They were no ordinary love-letters. Mostly they were beyond the +comprehension of the creature who spelt them out word for word, seeking +all the time to appraise their exact monetary value to himself. But for +what he had heard he would have found them disappointing. As it was, he +gloated over them. Two thousand pounds a year his clever brother had +earned by merely possessing them! He looked at them almost reverently. +Then he suddenly remembered what else his brother had earned by their +possession, and he shivered. A moment later the electric bell outside +pealed, and there came a soft knocking at the door. + +A little cry--half stifled--broke from his lips. With numbed and +trembling fingers he began tying up the letters. The perspiration had +broken out upon his forehead. Some one to see him! Who could it be? He +was quite determined not to go to the door. He would let no one in. Again +the bell! Soon they would get tired of ringing and go away. He was quite +safe so long as he remained quiet. Quite safe, he told himself +feverishly. Then his pulses seemed to stop beating. There was a rush of +blood to his head. He clutched at the sides of his chair, but to rise was +a sheer impossibility. + +The thing which was terrifying him was a small thing in itself--the +turning of a latch-key in the door. Before him on the table was his +own--he knew of no other. Yet some one was opening, had opened his front +door! He sprang to his feet at last with something which was almost a +shriek. The door of the room in which he was, was slowly being pushed +open. By the dim candlelight he could distinguish the figure of his +visitor standing upon the threshold and peering into the room. + +His impulse was, without doubt, one of relief. The figure was the figure +of a complete stranger. Nor was there anything the least threatening +about his appearance. He saw a tall, white-haired gentleman, carefully +dressed with military exactitude, regarding him with a benevolent and +apologetic smile. + +"I really must apologize," he said, "for such an unceremonious entrance. +I felt sure that you were in, but I am a trifle deaf, and I could not be +sure whether or not the bell was ringing. So I ventured to use my own +latch-key, with, as you are doubtless observing, complete success." + +"Who are you, and what do you want?" Barnes asked, finding his +voice at last. + +"My name is Colonel Fitzmaurice," was the courteous reply. "You will +allow me to sit down? I have the pleasure of conversing, I believe, with +Mr. Sydney Barnes?" + +"That's my name," Barnes answered. "What do you want with me?" + +Despite his visitor's urbanity, he was still a little nervous. The +Colonel had a somewhat purposeful air, and he had seated himself directly +in front of the door. + +"I want," the Colonel said calmly, "that packet which you have just +stolen from Mrs. Morris Barnes, and which you have in your pocket there!" + +Barnes rose at once, trembling, to his feet. His bead-like eyes were +bright and venomous. He was terrified, but he had the courage of despair. + +"I have stolen nothing," he declared, "I don't know what you're talking +about. I won't listen to you. You have no right to force your way into my +flat. Colonel or no colonel, I won't have it. I'll send for the police." + +The Colonel smiled. + +"No," he said, "don't do that. Besides, I know what I'm talking about. I +mean the packet which I think I can see sticking out of your coat pocket. +You have just stolen that from Mrs. Barnes' tin trunk, you know." + +"I have stolen nothing," the young man declared, "nothing at all. I am +not a thief. I am not afraid of the police." + +The Colonel smiled tolerantly. + +"That is good," he said. "I hate cowards. But I am going to make you very +much afraid of me--unless you are wise and give me that packet." + +Barnes breathed thickly for a moment. Coward he knew that he was to the +marrow of his bones, but other of the evil passions were stirring in him +then. His narrow eyes were alight with greed. He had the animal courage +of vermin hard pressed. + +"The packet is mine," he said fiercely. "It's nothing to do with you. Get +out of my room." + +He rose to his feet. The Colonel awaited him with equable countenance. He +made, however, no advance. + +"Young man," the Colonel said quietly, "do you know what happened to +your brother?" + +Sydney Barnes stood still and shivered. He could say nothing. His tongue +seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth. + +"Your brother was another of your breed," the Colonel continued. "A +blackmailer! A low-living, evil-minded brute. Do you know how he came by +those letters?" + +"I don't know and I don't care," Barnes answered with a weak attempt at +bluster. "They're mine now, and I'm going to stick to them." + +The Colonel shook his head. + +"He broke his trust to a dying man," he said softly,--"to a man who lay +on the veldt at Colenso with three great wounds in his body, and his +life's blood staining the ground. He had carried those letters into +action with him, because they were precious to him. His last thought was +that they should be destroyed. Your brother swore to do this. He broke +his word. He turned blackmailer." + +"You're very fond of that word," Barnes muttered. "How do you know so +much?" + +"The soldier was my son," the Colonel answered, "and he did not die. You +see I have a right to those letters. Will you give them to me?" + +Give them up! Give up all his hopes of affluence, his dreams of an easy +life, of the cheap luxuries and riches which formed the Heaven of his +desire! No! He was not coward enough for that. He did not believe that +this mild-looking old gentleman would use force. Besides, he could not be +very strong. He ought to be able to push him over and escape! + +"No!" he answered bluntly, "I won't!" + +The Colonel looked thoughtful. + +"It is a pity," he said quietly. "I am sorry to hear you say that. Your +brother, when I asked him, made the same reply." + +Barnes felt himself suddenly grow hot and then cold. The perspiration +stood out upon his forehead. + +"I called upon your brother a few days before his death," the Colonel +continued calmly. "I explained my claim to the letters and I asked him +for them. He too refused! Do you remember, by the by, what happened to +your brother?" + +Sydney Barnes did not answer, but his cheeks were like chalk. His mouth +was a little open, disclosing his yellow teeth. He stared at the Colonel +with frightened, fascinated eyes. + +"I can see," the Colonel continued, "that you remember. Young man," he +added, with a curious alteration in his tone, "be wiser than your +brother! Give me the packet." + +"You killed him," the young man gasped. "It was you who killed Morris." + +The Colonel nodded gravely. + +"He had his chance," he said, "even as you have it." + +There was a dead silence. The Colonel was waiting. Sydney Barnes was +breathing hard. He was alone, then, with a murderer. He tried to speak, +but found a difficulty in using his voice. It was a situation which might +have abashed a bolder ruffian. + +The Colonel rose to his feet. + +"I am sorry to hurry you," he said, "but we are already late for our +appointment with Wrayson and his friends." + +Sydney Barnes snatched up the packet and retreated behind the table. The +Colonel leaned forward and blew out the candle. + +"I can see better in the dark," he remarked calmly. "You are a very +foolish young man!" + + + + +CHAPTER XLI + +THE COLONEL SPEAKS + + +Wrayson glanced at the clock for the twentieth time. + +"I am afraid," he said gravely, "that Mr. Sydney Barnes has been one too +many for us." + +"Do you think," Louise asked, "that he has persuaded the girl to give him +the packet?" + +"It looks like it," Wrayson confessed. + +Louise frowned. + +"Of course," she said, "I think that you were mad to let her go before. +She had the letters here in the room. You would have been perfectly +justified in taking them from her." + +"I suppose so," Wrayson assented, doubtfully. "Somehow she seemed to get +the upper hand of us towards the end. I think she suspected that some of +us knew more than we cared to tell her about--her husband's death." + +Louise shivered a little and remained silent. Wrayson walked to the +window and back. + +"To tell you the truth," he said, "I expected some one else here +to-night who has failed to turn up." + +"Who is that?" the Baroness asked. + +Wrayson hesitated for a moment and glanced towards Louise. + +"Colonel Fitzmaurice," he said. + +Louise seemed to turn suddenly rigid. She looked at him steadfastly for a +moment without speaking. + +"My father," she murmured at last. + +Wrayson nodded. + +"Yes!" he said. + +"But--what has he to do with this?" Louise asked, with her eyes fixed +anxiously, almost fearfully, upon his. + +"I went to him for advice," Wrayson said quietly. "He has been always +very kind, and I thought it possible that he might be able to help us. He +promised to be here at the same hour as the others. Listen! There is the +bell at last." + +The Colonel entered the room. Louise half rose to her feet. Wrayson +hastened to meet him. + +"Herbert," he said, with an affectionate smile, "forgive me for being a +little late. Baroness, I am delighted to see you--and Louise." + +The Baroness held out both her hands, which the Colonel raised gallantly +to his lips. Louise he greeted with a fatherly and unembarrassed smile. + +"I must apologize to all of you," he said, "but perhaps this will be my +best excuse." + +He took the packet from his breast pocket and handed it over to the +Baroness. The room seemed filled with exclamations. The Colonel beamed +upon them all. + +"Quite simple," he declared. "I have just taken them from Mr. Sydney +Barnes upstairs. He, in his turn, took them from--" + +The door was suddenly opened. Mrs. Morris Barnes rushed into the room and +gazed wildly around. + +"Where is he?" she exclaimed. "He has robbed me. The little beast! He got +into my rooms while I was out." + +The Colonel led her gallantly to a chair. + +"Calm yourself, my dear young lady," he said. + +"Where is he?" she cried. "Has he been here?" + +The Colonel shook his head. + +"He is in his room upstairs, but," he said, "I should not advise you to +go to him." + +"He has my packet--Augustus' packet," she cried, springing up. + +The Colonel laid his hand upon her arm. + +"No!" he said, "that packet has been restored to its rightful owner." + +She rose to her feet, trembling with anger. The Colonel motioned her to +resume her seat. + +"Come," he said, "so far as you are concerned, you have nothing to +complain of. You offered, I believe, to give it up yourself on one +condition." + +She looked at him with sudden eagerness. + +"Well?" she cried, impatiently. + +"That condition," he said, "shall be complied with." + +She looked into his face with strange intentness. + +"You mean," she said slowly, "that I shall know who it was that killed +my husband?" + +"Yes!" the Colonel answered. + +A sudden cry rang through the room. Louise was on her feet. She came +staggering towards them, her hands outstretched. + +"No!" she screamed, "no! Father, you are mad! Send the woman away!" + +He smiled at her deprecatingly. + +"My dear Louise!" he exclaimed, "our word has been passed to this young +woman. Besides," he added, "circumstances which have occurred within the +last hour with our young friend upstairs would probably render an +explanation imperative! I am sorry for your sake, my dear young lady," he +continued, turning to Mrs. Barnes, "to have to tell you this, but if you +insist upon knowing, it was I who killed your husband." + +Louise fell back into her chair and covered her face with her hands. The +Baroness looked shocked but not surprised. Wrayson, dumb and unnerved, +had staggered back, and was leaning against the table. Mrs. Barnes had +already taken a step towards the door. She was very pale, but her eyes +were ablaze. Incredulity struggled with her passionate desire for +vengeance. + +"You!" she exclaimed. "What should you want to kill him for?" + +The Colonel sighed regretfully. + +"My dear young lady," he said, "it is very painful for me to have to be +so explicit, but the situation demands it. I killed him because he was +unfit to live--because he was a blackmailer of women, an unclean liver, +a foul thing upon the face of the earth." + +"It's a damned lie!" the girl hissed. "He was good to me, and you shall +swing for it!" + +The Colonel looked genuinely distressed. + +"I am afraid," he said, "that you are prejudiced. If he was, as you say, +kind to you, it was for his own pleasure. Believe me, I made a careful +study of his character before I decided that he must go." + +She looked at him with fierce curiosity. + +"Are you a god," she demanded, "that you should have power of life or +death? Who are you to set yourself up as a judge?" + +"Pray do not believe," he begged, "that I arrogate to myself any such +position. Only, unfortunately, as regards your late husband's character +there could be no mistake, and concerning such men as he I have very +strong convictions." + +Wrayson, who had recovered himself a little, laid his hand upon the +Colonel's shoulder. + +"Colonel," he said hoarsely, "you're not serious! You can't be! Be +careful. This woman means mischief. She will take you at your word." + +"How else should she take me?" the Colonel asked calmly. "I suppose her +prejudice in favour of this man was natural, but all I can say is that, +under similar circumstances, I should act to-day precisely as I did on +the night when I found him about to sell a woman's honour, for money to +minister to the degraded pleasures of his life." + +The woman leaned towards him, venomous and passionate. + +"You're a nice one to preach, you are," she cried hysterically, "you, +with a man's blood upon your hands! You, a murderer! Degraded indeed! +What were his poor sins compared with yours?" + +The Colonel shook his head sadly. + +"I am afraid, my dear young lady," he said, "that I should never be able +to convert you to my point of view. You are naturally prejudiced, and +when I consider that I have failed to convince my own daughter"--he +glanced towards Louise--"of the soundness of my views, it goes without +saying that I should find you also unsympathetic. You are anxious, I see, +to leave us. Permit me!" + +He held open the door for her with grave courtesy, but Wrayson pushed him +aside. He had recovered himself to some extent, but he still felt as +though he were moving in some horrible dream. + +"Colonel!" he exclaimed hoarsely, "you know what this means! You know +where she will go!" + +[Illustration: "'TO THE NEAREST POLICE STATION! THAT'S WHERE I'M OFF.'"] + +"If he don't, let me tell him," she interrupted. "To the nearest police +station! That's where I'm off." + +Wrayson glanced quickly at the Colonel, who seemed in no way discomposed. + +"Naturally," he assented. "No one, my dear young lady, will interfere +with you in your desire to carry out your painfully imperfect sense of +justice. Pray pass out!" + +She hesitated for a moment. Her poor little brain was struggling, +perhaps, for the last time, to adapt itself to his point of view--to +understand why, at a moment so critical, he should treat her with the +easy composure and tolerant good-nature of one who gives to a spoilt +child its own way. Then she saw signs of further interference on +Wrayson's part, and she delayed no longer. + +The Colonel closed the door after her, and stood for a moment with his +back against it, for Wrayson had shown signs of a desire to follow the +woman whose egress he had just permitted. He looked into their faces, +white with horror--full of dread of what was to come, and he smiled +reassuringly. + +"Amy," he said, turning to the Baroness, "surely you and Wrayson here are +possessed of some grains of common sense. Louise, I know, is too easily +swayed by sentiment. But you, Wrayson! Surely I can rely on you!" + +"For anything," Wrayson answered, with trembling lips. "But what can I +do? What is there to be done?" + +The Colonel smiled gently. + +"Simply to listen intelligently--sympathetically if you can," he +declared. "I want to make my position clear to you if I can. You heard +what that poor young woman called me? Probably you would have used the +same word yourself. A murderer!" + +"Yes!" Wrayson muttered. "I heard!" + +"When I came back from the Soudan twelve years ago, I had been +instrumental in killing some thousands of brave men, I dare say I had +killed a score or so with my own hand. Was I a murderer then?" + +"No!" Wrayson answered. "It was a different thing." + +"Then killing is not necessarily murder," the Colonel remarked. "Good! +Now take the case of a man like Morris Barnes. He belonged to the class +of humanity which you can call by no other name than that of vermin. +Whatever he touched he defiled. He was without a single good instinct, a +single passable quality. Wherever he lived, he bred contamination. +Whoever touched him was the worse for it. His influence upon the world +was an unchanging one for evil. Put aside sentiment for one moment, false +sentiment I should say, and ask yourself what possible sin can there be +in taking the life of such a one. If he had gone on four legs instead of +two, his breed would have been exterminated centuries ago." + +"We are not the judges," Wrayson began, weakly enough. + +"We are, sir," the Colonel thundered. "For what else have we been given +brains, the moral sense, the knowledge of good or evil? There are those +amongst us who become decadents, whose presence amongst us breeds +corruption, whose dirty little lives are like the trail of a foul insect +across the page of life. I hold it a just and moral thing to rid the +world of such a creature. The sanctity of human life is the canting cry +of the falsely sentimental. Human life is sacred or not, according to +its achievements. Such a one as Morris Barnes I would brush away like a +poisonous fly." + +"Bentham!" Wrayson faltered. + +"I killed him, sir!" the Colonel answered, "and others of his kidney +before him. Louise knew it. I argued with her as I am doing with you, but +it was useless. Nevertheless, I have lived as seemed good to me." + +"There is the law," Wrayson said, with a horrified glance towards Louise. +He understood now. + +The Colonel bowed his head. + +"I am prepared," the Colonel answered, "to pay the penalty of all +reformers." + +There was a ring at the bell. Wrayson threw open the door. A small boy +stood there. He held a piece of paper in his hand. + +"The lidy said," he declared, "that the white-headed gentleman would give +me 'arf a crown for this 'ere!" + +Wrayson gave him the money, and stepped back into the room. He gave +the paper to the Colonel, who read it calmly, first to himself and +then aloud. + + * * * * * + +"I leave you to your conshens. He may have been bad, but he was +good to me! + +"AGNES B." + + * * * * * + +The Colonel's eyes grew very soft. + +"Poor little woman," he said to himself. "Wrayson, you'll look after her. +You'll see she doesn't come to grief!" + +There was the sound of a heavy fall in the room above. The Colonel's face +assumed an air of intense irritation. + +"It's that infernal window pole," he declared. "I had doubts about it all +the time." + +Wrayson looked at him in horror. + +"What do you mean?" he demanded. + +"Perhaps you had better go up and see," the Colonel answered, taking up +his hat. "A very commonplace tragedy after all! I don't quite see what +else he could have done. He was penniless, half mad with disappointment; +he'd been smoking too many cigarettes and drinking too much cheap liquor, +and he was in danger of arrest for selling the landlord's furniture. No +other end for him, I am afraid." + +Wrayson threw open the door. + +"Don't hurry," the Colonel declared. "You'll probably find that he has +hanged himself, but he must have been dead for some time." + +Wrayson tore up the stairs. The Colonel watched him for a moment. Then, +with a little sigh, he began to descend. + +"False sentiment," he murmured to himself sadly. "The world's full of +it." + + + + +CHAPTER XLII + +LOVE REMAINS + + +Wrayson rode slowly up the great avenue, and paused at the bend to see +for the first time at close quarters the house, which from the valley +below had seemed little more than a speck of white set in a deep bower of +green. Seen at close quarters its size amazed him. With its cluster of +outbuildings, it occupied nearly the whole of the plateau, which was like +a jutting tableland out from the side of the mountain. It was of two +stories only, and encircled with a great veranda supported by embowered +pillars. Free at last from the densely growing trees, Wrayson, for the +first time during his long climb, caught an uninterrupted view of the +magnificent panorama below. A land of hills, of black forests and shining +rivers; a land uncultivated but rich in promise, magnificent in its +primitivism. It was a wonderful dwelling this, of which the owner, +springing down from the veranda, was now on his way to meet his guest. + +The two men shook hands with unaffected heartiness. Duncan Fitzmaurice, +in his white linen riding clothes, seemed taller than ever, a little +gaunt and thin, too, from a recent attack of fever. There was no doubt +about the pleasure with which he received his guest. + +"Where is Louise?" he asked, looking behind down the valley. + +"Coming up in the wagons," Wrayson answered. "She has been riding all +day and was tired." + +A Kaffir boy came out with a tray and glasses. Wrayson helped himself to +a whisky and soda, and lit a cigar. + +"I'll get my pony and ride back with you to meet them," Duncan said. + +Wrayson detained him. + +"One moment," he said, "I have something to say to you first." + +Duncan glanced at him a little anxiously. Wrayson answered the look. + +"Nothing--disturbing," he said. "You learnt the end of everything from +my letters?" + +"I think so," Duncan answered. + +"The verdict on your father's death was absolutely unanimous," Wrayson +said. "He was seen to stagger on the platform just as the train came in, +and he seemed to make every effort to save himself. He was killed quite +instantaneously. I do not think that any one had a suspicion that it was +not entirely accidental." + +Duncan nodded. + +"And the other affair?" + +"You mean the death of Sydney Barnes? No one has ever doubted that he +committed suicide. Everything seemed to point to it. There is only one +man who knew about Morris Barnes and probably guesses the rest. His name +was Heneage, and he was your father's friend. He did not speak when he +was alive, so he is not likely to now. There is the young woman, of +course, Mrs. Morris Barnes. She has married again and gone to Canada. +Louise looked after her." + +Duncan took up his riding-whip from the table. + +"Now tell me," he said, "what it is that you have to say to me." + +"Do you read the papers?" Wrayson asked abruptly. + +"Only so far as they treat of matters connected with this country," +Duncan answered. + +"You have not read, then, of the Mexonian divorce?" + +The man's eyes were lit with fire. The handle of the riding-whip snapped +in his hands. + +"They have never granted it!" he cried. + +"Not in its first form," Wrayson answered hastily. "The whole suit fell +to the ground for want of evidence." + +"It is abandoned, then?" Duncan demanded. + +"On the contrary, the courts have granted the decree," Wrayson answered, +"but on political grounds only. Every material charge against the Queen +was withdrawn, and the divorce became a matter of arrangement." + +"She is free from that brute, then," Duncan said quietly. "I am glad." + +Wrayson glanced down towards the valley. A couple of wagons and several +Kaffir boys with led horses were just entering the valley. + +"Yes!" he said, "she is free!" + +Something in his intonation, some change in his face, gripped hold of +Duncan. He caught his visitor by the shoulder roughly. + +"What the devil do you mean?" he demanded, "What difference does it make? +She would never dare--to--" + +"You can never tell," Wrayson said, with a little sigh, "what a woman +will dare to do. Tell me the truth, Duncan. You care for her still?" + +"God knows it!" he answered fiercely. "There has never been another +woman. There never could be." + +"Jump on your pony, then, and ride down and meet them. Gently, man! +Don't break your neck." ... + +Later on they sat out upon the veranda. The swift darkness was falling +already upon the land, the colour was fading fast from the gorgeous +fragments of piled-up clouds in the western sky. Almost as they watched, +the outline faded away from the distant mountains, the rolling woods lost +their shape. + +"It's a wonderful country, yours, Duncan," Wrayson said. + +"It is God's own country," Duncan answered quietly. "What we shall make +of it, He only knows! It is the country of eternal mysteries." + +He pointed northwards. + +"Think," he said, "beneath those forests are the ruins of cities, +magnificent in civilization and art before a stone of Babylon was built, +when Nineveh was unknown. What a heritage! What a splendid heritage, if +only we can prove ourselves worthy of it!" + +"Why not?" Wrayson asked quietly. "Our day of decline is not yet. Even +the historians admit that." + +"It is the money-grabbers of the world who belittle empire," Duncan +answered. "It is from the money-grabbers of the Transvaal that we have +most to fear. Only those can know what Africa is, what it might mean to +us, who shake the dust of civilization from their feet, and creep a +little way into its heart. It is here in the quiet places that one begins +to understand. One has the sense of coming into a virgin country, strong, +fresh, and wonderful. Think of the race who might be bred here! They +would rejuvenate the world!" + +"And yet," the woman at his side murmured, the woman who had been a +queen, "it is not a virgin country after all. A little further +northwards and the forests have in their keeping the secrets of ages. +Shall we ever possess them, I wonder!" + +In the darkness she felt his arms about her. Louise and her husband had +wandered away. + +"One thing at least remains, changeless and eternal as history itself," +he murmured, as their lips met. "Thank God for it!" + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Avenger, by E. 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