THE SLAVE OF SILENCE

[Illustration: "Nothing daunted, the pair made a rush at Berrington whofired right and left. " FRONTISPIECE. _See page 191. _]

 THE SLAVE OF SILENCE

 BY

 F. M. WHITE

 AUTHOR OF "TREGARTHEN'S WIFE" "THE WHITE BATTALION" "THE ROBE OF LUCIFER" ETC ETC

 ILLUSTRATED

 BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1906

 Copyright, 1904, BY FRED M. WHITE. 

 Copyright, 1906, BY LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY. 

 * * *

 _All Rights Reserved_

 Published November, 1906

 Printers S. J. PARKHILL & CO. , BOSTON, U. S. A. 

CONTENTS

 PAGE

 CHAPTER I 1

 CHAPTER II 9

 CHAPTER III 17

 CHAPTER IV 25

 CHAPTER V 33

 CHAPTER VI 41

 CHAPTER VII 49

 CHAPTER VIII 57

 CHAPTER IX 65

 CHAPTER X 73

 CHAPTER XI 81

 CHAPTER XII 89

 CHAPTER XIII 97

 CHAPTER XIV 105

 CHAPTER XV 113

 CHAPTER XVI 121

 CHAPTER XVII 129

 CHAPTER XVIII 137

 CHAPTER XIX 145

 CHAPTER XX 153

 CHAPTER XXI 161

 CHAPTER XXII 169

 CHAPTER XXIII 177

 CHAPTER XXIV 185

 CHAPTER XXV 193

 CHAPTER XXVI 201

 CHAPTER XXVII 209

 CHAPTER XXVIII 217

 CHAPTER XXIX 225

 CHAPTER XXX 233

 CHAPTER XXXI 241

 CHAPTER XXXII 249

 CHAPTER XXXIII 256

 CHAPTER XXXIV 264

 CHAPTER XXXV 272

 CHAPTER XXXVI 280

 CHAPTER XXXVII 288

 CHAPTER XXXVIII 296

 CHAPTER XXXIX 304

 CHAPTER XL 312

ILLUSTRATIONS

 "Nothing daunted, the pair made a rush at Berrington, who fired right and left" _Frontispiece_

 "Richford stood there shaking and quivering with passion" _Page_ 49

 "The police-officer looked suspiciously at the figure" " 107

THE SLAVE OF SILENCE

CHAPTER I

The girl turned away from the splendour of it and laid her aching headagainst the cool windowpane. A hansom flashed along in the street belowwith just a glimpse of a pretty laughing girl in it with a man by herside. From another part of the _Royal Palace Hotel_ came sounds of mirthand gaiety. All the world seemed to be happy, to-night, perhaps to mockthe misery of the girl with her head against the windowpane. 

And yet on the face of it, Beatrice Darryll's lines seemed to havefallen in pleasant places. She was young and healthy, and, in the eyesof her friends, beautiful. Still, the startling pallor of her face wasin vivid contrast with the dead black dress she wore, a dress againstwhich her white arms and throat stood out like ivory on a back-ground ofebony and silver. There was no colour about the girl at all, save forthe warm, ripe tone of her hair and the deep, steadfast blue of hereyes. Though her face was cold and scornful, she would not have giventhe spectator the impression of coldness, only utter weariness and atiredness of life at the early age of twenty-two. 

Behind her was a table laid out for a score of dinner guests. Everythingwas absolutely perfect and exceedingly costly, as appertained to allthings at the _Royal Palace Hotel_, where the head waiter condescendedto bow to nothing under a millionaire. The table decorations were red intone, there were red shades to the low electric lights, and masses ofred carnations everywhere. No taste, and incidentally no expense hadbeen spared, for Beatrice Darryll was to be married on the morrow, andher father, Sir Charles, was giving this dinner in honour of theoccasion. Only a very rich man could afford a luxury like that. 

"I think everything is complete, madame, " a waiter suggested softly. "Ifthere is anything----"

Beatrice turned wearily from the window. She looked old and odd anddrawn just for the moment. And yet that face could ripple with delightedsmiles, the little red mouth was made for laughter. Beatrice's eyesswept over the wealth of good taste and criminal extravagance. 

"It will do very nicely, " the girl said. "It will do--anything will do. I mean you have done your work splendidly. I am more than satisfied. "

The gratified, if slightly puzzled, waiter bowed himself out. The bitterscorn in Beatrice's eyes deepened. What did all this recklessextravagance mean? Why was it justified? The man who might have answeredthe question sauntered into the room. A wonderfully well-preserved manwas Sir Charles Darryll, with a boyish smile and an air of perennialyouth unspotted by the world, a man who was totally unfitted to copewith the hard grip and sordid side of life. There were some who saidthat he was a grasping, greedy, selfish old rascal, who under the guiseof youthful integrity concealed a nature that was harsh and cruel. 

"Well, my dear child, " Sir Charles cried. "And are you not satisfied?That table-setting is perfect; I never saw anything in more exquisitetaste. "

"It will all have to be paid for, " Beatrice said wearily. "Themoney----"

"Will be forthcoming. I have no doubt of it. Whether I have it at thebank or not I cannot for the moment say. If not, then our good friendStephen Richford must lend it me. My dear child, that black dress ofyours gives me quite a painful shock. Why wear it?"

Beatrice crossed over and regarded her pale reflection in the glassopposite. The little pink nails were dug fiercely into the still pinkerflesh of her palm. 

"Why not?" she asked. "Is it not appropriate? Am I not in the deepestmourning for my lost honour? To-morrow I am going to marry a man whofrom the bottom of my heart I loathe and despise. I am going to sellmyself to him for money--money to save your good name. Oh, I know that Ishall have the benediction of the church, less fortunate girls will envyme; but I am not a whit better than the poor creature flaunting hershame on the pavement. Nay, I am worse, for she can plead that love wasthe cause of her undoing. Father, I can't, can't go through with it. "

She flung herself down in a chair and covered her face with her hands. The boyish innocence of Sir Charles's face changed suddenly, a wickedgleam came into his eyes. His friends would have found a difficulty inrecognizing him then. 

"Get up, " he said sternly. "Get up and come to the window with me. Now, what do you see in this room?"

"Evidences of wealth that is glittering here, " Beatrice cried. "Shameless extravagance that you can never hope to pay for. Costlyflowers----"

"And everything that makes life worth living. All these things arenecessary to me. They will be with me till the end if you marry StephenRichford. Now look outside. Do you see those two men elaborately doingnothing by the railings opposite. You do? Well, they are watching _me_. They have been dogging me for three days. And if anything happened now, a sudden illness on your part, anything to postpone to-morrow'sceremony, I should pass the next day in jail. You did not think it wasas bad as that, did you?"

The man's face was livid with fury; he had Beatrice's bare arm in acruel grip, but she did not notice the pain. Her mental trouble was toodeep for that. 

"It's that City Company that I hinted at, " Sir Charles went on. "Therewas a chance of a fortune there. I recognized that chance, and I becamea director. And there was risk, too. We took our chance, and the chancefailed. We gambled desperately, and again fortune failed us. Certainpeople who were against us have made unhappy discoveries. That is whythose men are watching me. But if I can send the chairman a letterto-morrow assuming innocence and regret and enclosing a cheque for£5, 000 to cover my fees and to recover all the shares I have sold, thenI come out with a higher reputation than ever. I shall shine as the onehonest man in a den of thieves. That cheque and more, Richford haspromised me directly you are his wife. Do you understand, you sullen, white-faced fool? Do you see the danger? If I thought you were going toback out of it now, I'd strangle you. "

Beatrice felt no fear; she was long past that emotion. Her weary eyesfell on the banks of red carnations; on the shaded lights and theexquisite table service. The fit of passion had left her indifferent andcold. She was not in the least sullen. 

"It would be the kindest act you could do, father, " she said. "Oh, Iknow that this is no new thing. There is no novelty in the situation ofa girl giving herself to a man whom she despises, for the sake of hismoney. The records of the Divorce Court teem with such cases. For thebattered honour of my father I am going to lose my own. Be silent--nosophistry of yours can hide the brutal truth. I hate that man from thebottom of my soul, and he knows it. And yet his one desire is to marryme. In Heaven's name, why?"

Sir Charles chuckled slightly. The danger was past, and he could affordto be good-humoured again. Looking at his daughter he could understandthe feelings of the lover who grew all the more ardent as Beatrice drewback. And Stephen Richford was a millionaire. It mattered little thatboth he and his father had made their money in crooked ways; it matteredlittle that the best men and a few of the best clubs would have none ofStephen Richford so long as Society generally smiled on him and fawnedat his feet. 

"You need have no further fear, " Beatrice answered coldly. "My weaknesshas passed. I am not likely to forget myself again. My heart is dead andburied----"

"That's the way to talk, " Sir Charles said cheerfully. "Feeling better, eh? I once fancied that that confounded foolishness between MarkVentmore and yourself, --eh, what?"

A wave of crimson passed over Beatrice's pale face. Her little handstrembled. 

"It was no foolishness, " she said. "I never cared for anyone but Mark, Inever shall care for anybody else. If Mark's father had not disownedhim, because he preferred art to that terrible City, you would neverhave come between us. But you parted us, and you thought that there wasan end of it. But you were wrong. Let me tell the truth. I wrote to Markin Venice, only last week, asking him to come to me. I got no reply tothat letter. If I had and he had come to me, I should have told himeverything and implored him to marry me. But the letter was notdelivered, and therefore you need have no fear of those men in thestreet. But my escape has been much nearer than you imagine. "

Sir Charles turned away humming some operatic fragment gaily. There wasnot the least occasion for him to give any display of feeling in thematter. It had been an exceedingly lucky thing for him that the letterin question had miscarried. And nothing could make any difference now, seeing that Beatrice had given her word, and that was a thing that shealways respected. All Beatrice's probity and honour she inherited fromher mother. 

"Very foolish, very foolish, " Sir Charles muttered benignly. "Girls areso impulsive. Don't you think that those carnations would be improved bya little more foliage at the base? They strike me as being a little setand formal. Now, is not that better?"

As if he had not either care or trouble in the world, Sir Charles addeda few deft touches to the deep crimson blooms. His face was careless andboyish and open again. From the next room came the swish of silkenskirts and the sound of a high-bred voice asking for somebody. 

"Lady Rashborough, " Sir Charles cried, "I'll go and receive her. And dofor goodness' sake try to look a little more cheerful. Stay in here andcompose yourself. "

Sir Charles went off with an eager step and his most fascinating smile. Lord Rashborough was the head of his family. He was going to giveBeatrice away to-morrow; indeed, Beatrice would drive to the church fromRashborough's town house, though the reception was in the _Royal PalaceHotel_. 

Beatrice passed her hand across her face wearily. She stood for a momentlooking into the fire, her thoughts very far away. Gradually the worldand its surroundings came back to her, and she was more or lessconscious that somebody was in the room. As she turned suddenly a tallfigure turned also, and made with hesitation towards the door. 

"I am afraid, " the stranger said in a soft, pleading voice; "I am afraidthat I have made a mistake. "

"If you are looking for anybody, " Beatrice suggested, "my father hasthese rooms. If you have come to see Sir Charles Darryll, why, Icould----"

It struck Beatrice just for a moment that here was an adventurer afterthe silver plate. But a glance at the beautiful, smooth, sorrowful facebeat down the suspicion as quickly as it had risen. The intruder wasunmistakably a lady, she was dressed from head to foot in silver grey, and had a bonnet to match. In some vague way she reminded Beatrice of ahospital nurse, and then again of some _grande dame_ in one of theold-fashioned country houses where the parvenue and the Russo-Semiticfinancier is not permitted to enter. 

"I took the wrong turn, " the stranger said. "I fancy I can reach thecorridor by that door opposite. These great hotels are so big, theyconfuse me. So you are Beatrice Darryll; I have often heard of you. If Imay venture to congratulate you upon----"

"No, no, " Beatrice cried quickly. "Please don't. Perhaps if you tell meyour name I may be in a position to help you to find anybody you maychance----"

The stranger shook her head as she stood in the doorway. Her voice waslow and sweet as she replied. 

"It does not in the least matter, " she said. "You can call me the Slaveof the Bond. "

CHAPTER II

The guests had assembled at length, the dinner was in full swing. Itwould have been hard for any onlooker to have guessed that so muchmisery and heart-burning were there. Sir Charles, smiling, gay, debonair, chatted with his guests as if quite forgetful of the silentwatchers by the railings outside. He might have been a rich man as hesurveyed the tables and ordered the waiters about. True, somebody elsewould eventually pay for the dinner, but that detracted nothing from thehost's enjoyment. 

Beatrice had a fixed smile to her face; she also had disguised herfeelings marvellously. There were other girls bidden to that brilliantfeast who envied Miss Darryll and secretly wondered why she was dressedso plainly and simply. On her left hand sat Stephen Richford, a dull, heavy-looking man with a thick lip and a suggestion of shiftiness in hissmall eyes. Altogether he bore a strong resemblance to a prize-fighter. He was quiet and a little moody, as was his wont, so that most ofBeatrice's conversation was directed to her neighbour on the other side, Colonel Berrington, a brilliant soldier not long from the East. 

A handsome and distinguished-looking man he was, with melancholy droopto his moustache and the shadow of some old sorrow in his eyes. ColonelBerrington went everywhere and knew everything, but as to his past hesaid nothing. Nobody knew anything about his people and yet everybodytrusted him, indeed no man in the Army had been in receipt of moreconfidences. Perhaps it was his innate feeling, his deep sense ofintrospection. And he knew by a kind of instinct that the beautiful girlby his side was not happy. 

"So this is your last free party, Miss Beatrice, " he smiled. "It seemsstrange to think that when last we met you were a happy child, andnow----"

"And now an unhappy woman, you were going to suggest, " Beatrice replied. "Is not that so?"

"Positively, I refuse to have words like that put into my mouth, "Berrington protested. "Looking round the table I can see four girls atleast who are envying you from the bottom of their hearts. Now could anysociety woman be miserable under those circumstances?"

Beatrice flushed a little as she toyed nervously with her bread. Berrington's words were playful enough, but there was a hidden meaningbehind them that Beatrice did not fail to notice. In a way he wastelling her how sorry he was; Richford had been more or less draggedinto a sporting discussion by the lady on the other side, so thatBeatrice and her companion had no fear of being interrupted. Their eyesmet for a moment. 

"I don't think they have any great need to be envious, " the girl said. "Colonel Berrington, I am going to ask what may seem a strange questionunder the circumstances. I am going to make a singular request. Everybody likes and trusts you. I have liked and trusted you since thefirst day I met you. Will you be my friend, --if anything happens when Iwant a friend sorely, will you come to me and help me? I know it issingular----"

"It is not at all singular, " Berrington said in a low voice. He shot aquick glance of dislike at Richford's heavy jowl. "One sees things, quiet men like myself always see things. And I understand exactly whatyou mean. If I am in England I will come to you. But I warn you that mytime is fully occupied. All my long leave----"

"But surely you have no work to do whilst you are in England on leave?"

"Indeed I have. I have a quest, a search that never seems to end. Ithought that I had finished it to-night, and singularly enough, in thisvery hotel. I can't go into the matter here with all this chattering mobof people about us, for the story is a sad one. But if ever you shouldchance to meet a grey lady with brown eyes and lovely grey hair----"

"The stranger! How singular!" Beatrice exclaimed. "Why, only to-night inthis very room. "

"Ah!" the word came with a gasp almost like pain from Berrington's lips. The laughter and chatter of the dinner-table gave these two a sense ofpersonal isolation. "That is remarkable. I am looking for a grey lady, and I trace her to this hotel--quite by accident, and simply because Iam dining here to-night. And you saw her in this room?"

"I did, " Beatrice said eagerly. "She came here by mistake; evidently shehad quite lost herself in this barrack of a place. She was dressed fromhead to foot in silver grey, she had just the eyes and hair that youdescribe. And when I asked her who she was, she merely said that she wasthe Slave of the Bond and vanished. "

Colonel Berrington's _entrée_ lay neglected on his plate. A deeper tingeof melancholy than usual was on his face. It was some time before hespoke again. 

"The Slave of the Bond, " he echoed. "How true, how characteristic! Andthat is all you have to tell me. If you see her again----but there, youare never likely to see her again ... I will tell you the story someother time, not before these frivolous creatures here. It is a sadstory; to a great extent, it reminds me of your own, Miss Beatrice. "

"Is mine a sad story?" Beatrice smiled and blushed. "In what way is itsad, do you think?"

"Well, we need not go into details here, " Berrington replied. "You see, Mark Ventmore is an old friend of mine. I knew his father intimately. Itwas only at Easter that we met in Rome, and, as you say, people are sogood as to regard me as worthy of confidence. Beatrice, is it too late?"

Berrington asked the question in a fierce, sudden whisper. His leanfingers clasped over the girl's hand. Sir Charles was leaning back inhis chair talking gaily. Nobody seemed to heed the drama that was goingon in their midst. Beatrice's eyes filled with tears. 

"It is a great comfort to me to know that I have so good and true afriend, " she said with her eyes cast down on her plate. "No, I do notwant any wine. Why does that waiter keep pushing that wine list of hisunder my nose?"

"Then you are quite sure that it is too late?" Berrington asked again. 

"My dear friend, it is inevitable, " Beatrice replied. "It is a matterof--duty. Look at my father. "

Berrington glanced in the direction of Sir Charles, who was bendingtenderly over the very pretty woman on his right hand. Apparently thebaronet had not a single care in the world; his slim hand toyed with aglass of _vintage_ claret. Berrington gave him a quick glance ofcontempt. 

"I do not see what Sir Charles has to do with it, " he said. 

"My father has everything to do with it, " Beatrice said. "Does he notlook happy and prosperous! And yet you can never tell. And there was atime when he was so very different. And the mere thought that any actionof mine would bring disgrace upon him----"

Beatrice paused as she felt Berrington's eyes upon her. The expressionof his face showed that she had said enough, and more than enough. 

"I quite understand, " Berrington said quietly. "You are a hostage tofortune. Honour thy father that _his_ days may be long in the land wheregood dinners abound and tradesmen are confiding. But the shame, theburning shame of it! Here's that confounded waiter again. "

Beatrice felt inclined to laugh hysterically at Berrington's suddenchange of tone. The dark-eyed Swiss waiter was bending over the girl'schair again with a supplicating suggestion that she should try a littlewine of some sort. He had a clean list in his hand, and evenBerrington's severest military frown did not suffice to scare him away. 

"Ver' excellent wine, " he murmured. "A little claret, a liqueur. No. 74is what--will madame kindly look? Madame will look for one littlemoment?"

With an insistence worthy of a better cause, the Swiss placed the cardin Beatrice's hand. 

It was a clean card, printed in red and gold, and opposite No. 74 was apencilled note. The girl's eyes gleamed as she saw the writing. Thewords were few but significant. "In the little conservatory beyond thedrawing-room. Soon as possible. "

"I shall have to complain about that fellow, " Berrington said. "MissBeatrice, are you not well?"

"I am quite well, quite strong and well, " Beatrice whispered. "I imploreyou not to attract any attention to me. And the waiter was not to blame. He had a message to deliver to me. You can see how cleverly he has doneit. Look here!"

Beatrice displayed the card with the pencilled words upon it. Berrington's quick intelligence took everything in at a glance. 

"Of course that is intended for you, " he said. "A neat handwriting. Andyet in some way it seems quite familiar to me. Could I possibly haveseen it anywhere before?"

"I should say that it is extremely likely, " the girl said. "It is MarkVentmore's own handwriting. "

Berrington smiled. He had all a soldier's love of adventure, and hebegan to see a very pretty one here. 

"I wrote to him a little over a week ago, " Beatrice said rapidly. "If hehad got my letter then and come, goodness knows what would havehappened. I was not quite aware at that hour how close was the shadow ofdisgrace. I expect Mark has found out everything. Probably he has onlyjust arrived and feels that if he does not see me to-night it will betoo late. Colonel Berrington, I must see Mark at once, oh, I _must_. "

Nothing could be easier. Beatrice had merely to say that she wassuffering with a dreadful headache, that the atmosphere of the room wasinsupportable, and that she was going to try the purer air of theconservatory beyond the dining-room. 

"No, you need not come, " Beatrice said as Richford lounged heavily tohis feet. "I do not feel the least in the mood to talk to anybody, noteven you. "

The listener's sullen features flushed, and he clenched his hands. Beatrice had never taken the slightest trouble to disguise her dislikefor the man she had promised to marry. In his heart of hearts he hadmade up his mind that she should suffer presently for all theindignities that she had heaped upon his head. 

"All right, " he said. "I'll come into the drawing-room and wait for you. Keep you from being interrupted, in fact. I know what women's headachesmean. "

There was no mistaking the cowardly insinuation, but Berrington saidnothing. Richford could not possibly have seen the signal, and yet heimplied an assignation if his words meant anything at all. It was acruel disappointment, but the girl's face said nothing of her emotions. She passed quietly along till she came to the little conservatory wherepresently she was followed by the Swiss waiter, who had given her thecard with Mark Ventmore's message upon it. 

"Madame is not well, " he said. "Madame has the dreadful headache. Can Iget anything for Madame? A glass of water, an ice, a cup of coffee, or----"

Beatrice was on the point of declining everything, when she caught theeye of the speaker. Apparently there was some hidden meaning behind hiswords, for she changed her mind. 

"No coffee, " she said in a voice that was meant for the lounger in thedrawing-room, "but I shall be very glad if you will let me have a cup oftea, strong tea, without milk or sugar. "

The waiter bowed and retired. Beatrice sat there with her head back asif utterly worn out, though her heart was beating thick and fast. Shelooked up again presently as a waiter entered leaving the necessarythings on a tray. It was not the same waiter, but a taller, fairer manwho bowed as he held out the silver salver. 

"The tea, Madame, " he said. "May I be allowed to pour it out for you?Steady!"

The last word was no more than a whisper. Beatrice checked the cry thatcame to her lips. 

"Mark, " she murmured. "Mark, dear Mark, is it really you?"

The tall waiter smiled as he laid a hand on the girl's tremblingfingers. 

"Indeed it is, darling, " he said. "For God's sake don't say I have cometoo late!"

CHAPTER III

From the point of view of the onlooker there could have been nothingsuspicious in the attitude of the pseudo waiter with his tray. He couldsee Beatrice leaning back as if the pain in her head had made heroblivious to everything else. As a matter of fact, Beatrice was rackingher brains for some way out of the difficulty. The self-elected waitercould not stay there much longer, in any case, at least not unless thesuspicious Richford took it in his head to return to the dinner-tableagain. 

"It is so good of you to come, " Beatrice said, still with her headthrown back in the air. "That man has followed me, though Heaven knowswhat he has to be suspicious about. Go away for a few minutes, as if youhad forgotten something, and then return again. "

Mark Ventmore assented with a low bow. Scarcely had he left theconservatory by a door leading to the corridor than Richford strolledin. 

"Feeling better now?" he asked ungraciously. "Funny things, women'sheadaches!"

"For Heaven's sake go away, " Beatrice exclaimed. "Why do you come andtorture me like this? You are the very last I want to see just now. Don't drive me over the border. Go back to the others, and leave me inpeace. "

With a sullen air, Richford lounged away; Colonel Berrington wascrossing the drawing-room, and Beatrice's heart beat high with hope. She might have known that the gallant soldier would help her ifpossible. With unspeakable relief she saw Richford tactfully drawn awayand disappear. Very quickly Beatrice changed her seat, so that she couldcommand a view of the drawing-room without herself being seen. The sidedoor opened, and Mark Ventmore came in again. He carried a tray still, but he no longer looked like a waiter. With one quick glance around himhe advanced to Beatrice and knelt by the side of her chair. 

"My darling, " he whispered. "Oh, my dear little love! Am I too late?"

Beatrice said nothing for a moment. She was content only to forget herunhappy lot in the knowledge that the one man she had ever cared for wasby her side. Ventmore's arm stole about her; her head drooped to hisshoulder. There was a faint, unsteady smile on the girl's lips asVentmore bent and kissed her passionately. 

"Why did you not come before?" she asked. 

"My dearest, I could not. I was away from my quarters, and I did not getyour letter. I am only here quite by chance. But is it too late?"

"Oh, I fear so; I fear so, " Beatrice murmured. "If you had come a weekago I should have asked you to marry me and take me away from it all. And yet, if I had done so, my father would have been ruined anddisgraced. "

Mark Ventmore moved his shoulders a little impatiently. 

"So Sir Charles says, " he replied. "Sir Charles was always very good atthose insinuations. He has played upon your feelings, of course, sweetheart. "

"Not this time, Mark. He has mixed himself up in some disgraceful Citybusiness. A prosecution hangs in the air. And I am to be the price ofhis freedom. My future husband will see my father through after I becomehis wife. Even now there are private detectives watching my father. Itis a dreadful business altogether, Mark. And yet if you had come a weekago, I should have risked it all for your sake. "

Ventmore pressed the trembling figure to his heart passionately. Underhis breath he swore that this hideous sacrifice should never be. Wasthis white-drawn woman in his arms, the happy laughing little Beatricethat he used to know? They had parted cheerfully enough a year since;they had agreed not to write to one another; they had infinite trust inthe future. Mark was going to make his fortune as a painter, andBeatrice was to wait for him. And now it was the girl's wedding eve, andthe fates had been too strong for her altogether. 

"Leave your father to himself and come, " Mark urged. "I am making enoughnow to keep us both in comfort; not quite the income that I hoped to askyou to share with me, but at least we shall be happy. I will take you toa dear old friend of mine, and to-morrow I will buy a license. Afterthat no harm can molest you. "

Beatrice closed her eyes before the beatitude of the prospect. Just forthe moment she felt inclined to yield. Mark was so strong and good andhandsome, and she loved him so. And yet she had given her word for thesake of her father. 

"I cannot, " she said. Her voice was very low but quite firm. "I havepromised my father. Oh, yes, I know that I had promised you first. Butit is for the sake of my father's honour. If I do what you wish he willgo to jail--nothing can prevent it. I only knew to-night. "

"And you are sure that Sir Charles is not--not ... You know what Imean?"

"Lying to me?" Beatrice said bitterly. "Not this time. I always knowwhen he is making an effort to deceive me. Mark, don't press me. "

Mark crushed down his feelings with an effort. Blindly and passionatelyin love as he was, he could see that duty and reason were on the side ofthe girl. She would have to be sacrificed to this scoundrelly father, and to please the other rascal who coveted her beauty and her fair whitebody all the more because Beatrice kept him so rigidly at a distance. 

"It seems very, very hard, " Mark said thoughtfully. "Terribly hard onboth of us. "

"Yes, but it is always the woman who suffers most, " Beatrice replied. "There is no help for it, Mark. I must see this thing out to the end. Ifyou had only come before!"

"My darling, I came as quickly as I could. I am staying here to-night, and my room is in the same corridor as that of Sir Charles. I shall seehim to-night, or early to-morrow, and tell him a few of the things thatI have discovered. Perhaps when I open his eyes to the truth as to hisfuture son-in-law, he will change his mind. "

"He will never do so, " Beatrice said mournfully. "My father can alwaysjustify himself and his conscience where his own interests areconcerned. But how did you know----"

"That you were in trouble? It came to me quite by accident. I was inParis a day or two ago to see a wealthy American who wants some of mywork. And as I was alone in the evening, I went to one of the theatres. There were two English ladies by me in the stalls and presently theybegan to talk about _you_. I could not help hearing. Then I heardeverything. Do you know a tall, elderly lady with dark eyes and whitehair, a lady all in silver grey?"

Beatrice started. Surely Mark was describing the Slave of the Bond, asthe grey lady whom Beatrice had encountered earlier in the evening hadcalled herself. 

"I know her, and I don't know her, " the girl cried. "She came into thedining-room here before dinner quite by accident. I thought she was someadventuress at first. But her face was too good and pure for that. Iasked her who she was, and she said she was the Slave of the Bond. Isthis a coincidence, or is there something deeper beyond? I don't knowwhat to think. "

"Something deeper beyond, I should imagine, " Mark said. "Be sure that insome way or another this grey lady is interested in your welfare. But Iam absolutely sure that she did not know me. "

"And so you came on at once, Mark?" Beatrice asked. 

"As soon as possible, dear. I heard about the dinner whilst I was in thetheatre. My train was very late, and I could not possibly carry out theprogramme that I had arranged. My next difficulty was to get speech withyou. Happily, a half sovereign and an intelligent waiter solved thatproblem. When Richford followed you I had to borrow that tray and therest of it and disburse another half sovereign. Then I saw that my oldfriend Berrington had come to my rescue. Did you tell him, Beatrice?"

"He saw the message on the wine card and recognized your handwriting. But I shall not be able to stay much longer, Mark. Those people may comeinto the drawing-room at any moment. This must be our last meeting. "

"I am not going to be so sure of that, Beatrice. What I have to say toyour father must move him. The idea of your being the wife of thatman--but I will not think of it. Oh, love will find the way even at thisvery late hour. "

Mark would have said more, only there was the flutter of a dress in thedrawing-room beyond, and the echo of a laugh. The dinner guests werecoming into the drawing-room. With a quick motion, Mark snatched thegirl to his heart and kissed her passionately. 

"Good night, darling, " he whispered. "Keep up your courage. Who knowswhat may happen between now and twelve o'clock to-morrow? And after Ihave seen your father----"

Another kiss, and the lover was gone. Beatrice lay back in her chairstriving to collect her thoughts. Everything seemed to have happened sosuddenly and unexpectedly. There were people about her now who wereasking smoothly sympathetic questions in the hollow insincerity of theworld. 

"I'm no better, " Beatrice said. "If my aunt is ready I should like to gohome. My father will stay and see that you get your bridge all right. "

Beatrice had gone at length with Lady Rashborough, the rest of theguests had finished their bridge, and the party was breaking up. MarkVentmore was sitting, smoking cigarettes in his bedroom, waiting for thechance to see Sir Charles. It was getting very late now, and all theguests had long since been in their rooms. With his door open Mark couldsee into the corridor. 

Then he gave a little whistle of astonishment as the door of SirCharles's sitting-room opened and the grey lady, the Slave of the Bondof Silence, came out. She was dressed just as Mark had seen her before;as she walked along, her face was calm and placid. She came at length tothe end of the corridor and disappeared quietly and deliberately downthe stairs. With a feeling of curiosity, Mark crossed over and tried thehandle of Sir Charles's door. To his great surprise it was locked. 

For a little time Mark pondered over the problem. As he did so, his headfell back and he slept. It was the sound sleep of the clean mind in thehealthy body, so that when the sleeper came to himself again it wasbroad daylight; the hotel was full of life and bustle. With a sense ofhaving done a fearful thing, Mark looked at his watch. It was tenminutes past eleven!

"This comes of having no rest the night before, " he muttered. "And tothink that the fate of my little girl should be hanging in the balance!If Sir Charles has gone!"

But Sir Charles had not gone, as one of the waiters was in a position toassure Mark. He had not retired to bed until past three, and at thattime was in a state of hilarity that promised a pretty fair headache inthe morning. 

"Well, there is time yet, " Mark thought, grimly. "And Sir Charles mustbe moving by this time, as the wedding is to take place at twelve. "

But the minutes crept on, and it was pretty near to that hour when SirCharles's man came down the corridor with an anxious expression on hisface. He had been hammering at the bedroom door without effect. 

A sudden idea thrilled Mark, an idea that he was ashamed of almostbefore it had come into his mind. He stood by idly, listening. He hearda clock somewhere strike the hour of midday. He stepped up to the littleknot of waiters. 

"Why don't you do something?" he demanded. "What is the use of standingstupidly about here? Call the manager or whoever is in attendance. Breakdown the door. "

With all his force Mark thrust himself against the stout oak. The hingesyielded at last. 

CHAPTER IV

Beatrice woke to the knowledge of her own utter misery. Contrary to heranticipation, she had slept very soundly all night, much as condemnedcriminals are supposed to do on the eve of execution. She felt well andvigorous in herself, a brilliant sunshine was pouring into her room, andall around her lay evidences of her coming slavery. Here were the bridalveil and the long train, there were the jewels laid out on the dressingtable. A maid was moving quietly about the room. 

"Good morning, miss, " she said. "A lovely morning. And if there's anytruth in the saying that 'happy's the bride that the sun shines on, 'why----"

The maid stopped and smiled before she caught sight of Beatrice's pale, set face. 

"I suppose you think I am to be envied?" Beatrice asked. "Now don'tyou?"

The maid lifted her hands to express her dumb admiration. "Who would notbe happy to be dressed in those lovely clothes, to be decked in thosejewels and to marry a man who will give you everything that the heartcould desire?" Beatrice smiled wearily. 

"You are quite wrong, Adeline, " she said. "If I could change places withyou at this moment I would gladly do so. You have a sweetheart, Isuppose?"

"Oh, yes, miss. He's in a shop. Some day he hopes to have a shop of hisown, and then----"

"And then you will be married. You love him very dearly, I suppose. AndI----"

Beatrice stopped, conscious of the fact that she was saying too much. She ate sparingly enough of her breakfast; she went down to thedrawing-room and wrote a few letters. It was not quite ten yet and shehad plenty of time. Lady Rashborough was not an early riser, thoughRashborough himself had breakfasted and gone out long before. Beatricewas moodily contemplating her presents in the library when Mr. StephenRichford was announced. He came in with an easy smile, though Beatricecould see that his hands were shaking and there was just a suggestion offear in his eyes. With all his faults, the man did not drink, andBeatrice wondered. She had once seen a forger arrested on a liner, andhis expression, as soon as he recognized his position, was just the sameas Beatrice now saw in the eyes of the man she was going to marry. 

"What is the matter?" she asked listlessly. "You look as if you had hadsome great shock, like a man who has escaped from prison. Your face isghastly. "

Richford made no reply for a moment. He contemplated his sullen, lividfeatures in a large Venetian mirror opposite. He was not a pretty objectat any time, but he was absolutely repulsive just at that moment. 

"Bit of an upset, " he stammered. "Saw a--a nasty street accident. Poorchap run over. "

The man was lying to her; absolutely he was forced to the invention tosave himself from a confession of quite another kind. He was not in theleast likely to feel for anybody else, in fact he had no feeling ofhuman kindness, as Beatrice had once seen for herself. There had been afatal accident at a polo match under their very feet, and Richford hadpuffed at his cigarette and expressed the sentiment that if fools didthat kind of thing they must be prepared to put up with theconsequences. 

"You are not telling the truth!" Beatrice said coldly. "As if anythingof that kind would affect _you_. You are concealing something from me. Is it--is there anything the matter with my father?"

Richford started violently. With all his self-control he could not holdhimself in now. His white face took on a curious leaden hue, his voicewas hoarse as he spoke. 

"Of course I have no good points in your eyes, " he said with a thicksneer. "And once a woman gets an idea into her head there is no rootingit out again. Your father is all right; nothing ever happens to men ofthat class. I saw him to his room last night, and very well he had donefor himself. Won over two hundred at bridge, too. Sir Charles can takecare of himself. "

Beatrice's face flamed and then turned pale again. She had caughtherself hoping that something had happened to her father, somethingsufficiently serious to postpone to-day's ceremony. It was a dreadfullyunworthy thought and Beatrice was covered with shame. And yet she knewthat she would have been far happier in the knowledge of a disaster likethat. 

"Why did you want to see me?" she asked. "I have not too much time tospare. "

"Of course not. But you can cheer yourself with the reflection that weshall have so much time together later on when the happy knot is tied. Has it occurred to you that I have given you nothing as yet? I broughtthis for you. "

Richford's hands, still trembling, produced a bulky package from hispocket. As he lifted the shabby lid a stream of living fire flashed out. There were diamonds of all kinds in old settings, the finest diamondsthat Beatrice had ever seen. Ill at ease and sick at heart as she was, she could not repress a cry. 

"Ah, I thought I could touch you, " Richford grinned. "A female saintcould not resist diamonds. Forty thousand pounds I gave for them. Theyare the famous Rockmartin gems. The family had to part with them, so theopportunity was too good to be lost. Well?"

"They are certainly exquisitely lovely, " Beatrice stammered. "I thankyou very much. "

"If not very warmly, eh? So that is all you have to say? Ain't theyworth one single kiss?"

Beatrice drew back. For the life of her she could not kiss this man. Never had his lips touched hers yet. They should never do so if Beatricehad her own way. 

"I think not, " she said in her cold constrained way. "It is veryprincely of you, and yet it does not touch me in the least. You made thebargain with your eyes open; I told you at the time that I could nevercare for you; that I sold myself to save my father's good name. I knowthe situation is not a new one; I know that such marriages, strange tosay, have before now turned out to be something like success. But notours. All the heart I ever had to bestow has long since been given toanother. I will do my best to make your life comfortable, I will do mybest to learn all that a wife is asked to become. But no more. "

Richford turned away with a savage curse upon his lips. The coldcontempt struck him and pierced the hide of his indifference as nothingelse could. But he was going to have his revenge. The time was near athand when Beatrice would either have to bend or break, Richford did notcare which. It was the only consolation that he had. 

"Very well, " he said. "We understand one another. We shall see. _Aurevoir!_"

He took up his hat and his stick, and strode off without a further word. Beatrice put the diamonds away from her as if they had been so manydeadly snakes. She felt that she would loathe the sight of diamonds forthe rest of her life. 

The time was drawing on now, it only wanted another hour, and the thingwould be done. Lady Rashborough came in and admired the diamonds; in heropinion, Beatrice was the luckiest girl in London. Her ladyship was apretty little blue-eyed thing adored by her husband, but she had noparticle of heart. Why a girl should dislike a man who would give herdiamonds like these she could not possibly imagine. 

"You will be wiser as you grow older, my dear, " she said sapiently. "Whydidn't I meet Richford before?"

Beatrice echoed the sentiment with all her heart. She resigned herselfdully to the maid; she took not the slightest interest in theproceedings; whether she looked ill or well mattered nothing. But thoughher own natural beauty was not to be dimmed, and though she had the aidof all that art could contrive, nothing could disguise the pallor of herface. 

"A little rouge, miss, " Adeline implored. "Just a touch on your cheeks. Your face is like snow, and your lips like ashes. I could do it socleverly that----"

"That people would never know, " Beatrice said. "I have no doubt aboutit, Adeline. But all the same I am not going to have any paint on myface. "

A big clock outside was striking the three quarters after eleven;already the carriage was at the door. As yet there was no sign of SirCharles. But perhaps he would join the party at the church, seeing thatthe head of the family and not himself was going to give the bride away. Lord Rashborough, a little awkward in his new frock coat, was fumingabout the library. He was an open-air man and hated the society intowhich his wife constantly dragged him. 

"Don't be too late, " he said. "Always like to be punctual. Of coursethat father of yours has not turned up, though he promised to drive tothe church, with us. "

"Father was never known to be in time in his life, " Beatrice saidcalmly. Her dull depression had gone, she was feeling quite cool andtranquil. If anybody had asked her, she would have said that thebitterness of death had passed. "It is not necessary to wait for him. "

"He'll understand, " Lord Rashborough joined in. "We can leave a message, and he can follow to the church in a hansom. Let us be moving, Beatrice, if you are quite ready. "

With wonderful calmness Beatrice answered that she was quite ready. Alittle knot of spectators had gathered outside to see the bride depart. Two or three carriages were there, and into the first, with the splendidpair of bays, Lord Rashborough handed Beatrice. They drove along thefamiliar streets that seemed to Beatrice as though she was seeing themfor the last time. She felt like a doomed woman with the deadly virus ofconsumption in her blood when she is being ordered abroad with theuncertain chance that she might never see England again. It almostseemed to Beatrice that she was asleep, and that the whole thing wasbeing enacted in a dream. 

"Here we are at last, " Rashborough exclaimed. "What a mob of women! Whata lot of flowers! Why anybody wants to make all this fuss over gettingmarried beats me. Come along. "

It was a society wedding in the highest sense of the word, and thechurch was crowded. There was a rustle and a stir as the bride swept upthe aisle, and the organ boomed out. There was a little delay at thealtar, for the father of the bride had not yet arrived, and there was adisposition to give him a little latitude. Only Lord Rashboroughrebelled. 

"Let's get on, " he said. "Darryll may be half an hour late. One cannever tell. And I've got a most important appointment at Tattersall's athalf-past two. "

Beatrice had no objection to make--she would have objected to nothing atthat moment. In the same dreamy way, presently she found herselfkneeling at the altar, and a clergyman was saying something thatconveyed absolutely nothing to her intelligence. Presently somebody wasfumbling unsteadily at her left hand, whereon somebody a great deal morenervous than she was trying to fix a plain gold ring. Someone at theback of the church was making a disturbance. 

The officiating clergyman raised his head in protest. Except theexhortation, the ceremony was practically finished. A policeman appearedout of somewhere and seemed to be expostulating with the intruder. Justfor a minute it looked as if there was going to be an open brawl. 

"I tell you I must go up, " somebody was saying, and just for a moment itseemed to Beatrice that she was listening to the voice of Mark Ventmore. "It is a matter of life and death. "

Beatrice glanced up languidly at the silly society faces, the frocks andthe flowers. Did she dream, or was that really the pale face of Markthat she saw? Mark had burst from the policeman--he was standing nowhatless before the altar. 

"The ceremony must not go on, " he said, breathlessly. There was anameless horror in his white face. "I--I feel that I am strangely out ofplace, but it is all too dreadful. "

Beatrice rose to her feet. There was some tragedy here, a tragedyreflected in the ghastly face of her groom. And yet on his face was asuggestion of relief, of vulgar triumph. 

"What is it?" Beatrice asked. "Tell me. I could bear anything--_now_!"

"Your father!" Mark gasped. "We had to burst open his door. Sir Charleswas found in his bed quite dead. He had been dead for some hours whenthey found him. "

CHAPTER V

Mark Ventmore repeated his statement three times before anybody seemedto comprehend the dread meaning of his words. The shock was so sudden, so utterly unexpected by the majority of the people there. Of coursenobody in that brilliant throng had the least idea of the bride'sfeelings in the matter, most of them were privileged guests for thereception. They had been bidden to a festive afternoon, a theatre hadbeen specially chartered for the evening, with a dance to follow. Thiswas one of the smart functions of the season. 

And now death had stepped in and swept everything away at one breath. People looked at one another as if unable to take in what had happened. There was a strange uneasiness that might have been taken fordisappointment rather than regret. Perhaps it partook of both. Somebodya little more thoughtful than the rest gave a sign to the organist whohad begun to fill the church with a volume of triumphal music. Thesilence that followed was almost painful. 

Then as if by common consent, every eye was fixed upon the bride. Beatrice had turned and walked down the altar steps in the direction ofMark, who advanced now without further opposition. Beatrice stood therewith her hand to her head as if trying to understand it all. She wasterribly white, but absolutely composed. 

"Did you say that my father was dead?" she asked. 

"I am afraid so, " Mark stammered. "He--he has been dead for hours. Icame on here as fast as I could, hoping to be in time to----"

He paused, conscious of the fact that he was about to say somethingterribly out of place. Just for an instant Mark had forgotten that heand Beatrice were not alone. He was looking into her beautiful, dilatedeyes, oblivious to the fact of the spectators. He was going to say thathe had hurried there in the hopes of being in time to stop the ceremony. And Beatrice had divined it, for she flushed slightly. It seemed aterrible thing, but already she had asked herself the same question. Theshock of her father's death had not quite gone home to her yet, and shecould still think about herself. Was she really married to StephenRichford? Was the ceremony legally completed? The thought was out ofplace, but there it was. A mist rose before the girl's eyes, her heartbeat painfully fast. 

"Don't you think we ought to do something?" Mark asked. 

The question startled Beatrice out of her stupor. She was ready foraction. It was as if a stream of cold water had been poured over her. 

"Of course, " she cried. "It is wrong to stand here. Take me home atonce, Mark. "

It was a strange scene strangely carried out. The bridegroom stoodirresolute by the altar, feeling nervously at his gloves, whilstBeatrice, with all her wedding finery about her, clutched Mark by thearm and hurried him down the aisle. The whole thing was done, and thestrangely assorted pair had vanished before the congregation recoveredfrom their surprise. 

"Come back!" Richford exclaimed. "Surely it is my place to----"

Long before Richford could reach the porch, his wife and Mark hadentered a hansom and were on their way to the _Royal Palace Hotel_. Thestory had got about by this time; people stopped to stare at the man intweeds and the bride in her full array in the hansom. To those two itdid not seem in the least strange. 

"Did you manage to see my father, after all?" Beatrice asked. 

"No, I tried to do so; you see, I had to wait for him. He was very late, so I fell asleep. It was after eleven to-day when I awoke to find SirCharles had not left his room. I ventured to suggest that he had betterbe roused or he would be too late for your wedding. Nobody could makehim hear, so the door was broken in. He was quite dead. "

Beatrice listened in a dull kind of way. There was no trace of tears inher eyes. She had suffered so terribly, lately, that she could not cry. The horrible doubt as to whether she was free or not could not be keptout of her mind. Yet it seemed so dreadfully unnatural. 

"He died in his sleep, I suppose?" Beatrice asked. 

"That nobody can say yet, " Mark said. "The doctor we called in was veryguarded. Nobody seems to have been in the bedroom, though thesitting-room adjoining is not locked, and last night I saw a lady comeout of it, a lady in grey. "

"A lady in grey!" Beatrice cried. "What a singular thing, Mark! Do youmean to say it was the same lady who sat next to you in the Paristheatre?"

"Well, yes, " Mark admitted. "It was the same. I have not told anybodybut you, and it seems to me that nothing will be gained by mentioningthe fact. "

Beatrice nodded thoughtfully. She could not identify the grey lady, theSlave of Silence, with anything that was wrong. And yet it was strangehow that silent woman had come into her life. She must have been knownto Sir Charles or she would never have ventured into his sitting-room. If she was still staying in the hotel, Beatrice made up her mind to seekher out. There was some strange mystery here that must be explained. Itwas uppermost in Beatrice's mind as she descended from the hansom andpassed through the curious group of servants into the hall. 

The fine suite of rooms was ready for the festive throng; in thedining-room a banquet had been spread out. The scarlet flush of redroses gave a warm note to the room; the sun came streaming through thestained-glass windows, and shone upon the silver and glass and red glowof wine, and on the gold foil of the champagne bottles. In the centre ofthe table stood a great white tower that Beatrice regarded vaguely asher wedding cake. A shudder passed over her as she looked at it. Shelonged for something dark and sombre, to hide her diamonds and the sheenof her ivory satin dress. 

The place was silent now; the very bareness and desolation of the scenesickened Beatrice to the soul. No guests were here now--they were notlikely to be. A polite manager was saying something to the bride, butshe did not seem to heed. 

"Mr. Marius is talking to you, " Mark said. "He wants to know if he cando anything. "

"Mr. Marius is very kind, " Beatrice said wearily. "I should like to seethe doctor. I suppose that he is still here? May I see him at once?"

The doctor had not gone yet. Mark procured a small plate of daintysandwiches and a glass of port wine which he forced Beatrice to take. Toher great surprise she found that she was hungry. Breakfast she had hadnone; now that the crisis had passed, her natural healthy appetite hadreturned. The feeling of faintness that she had struggled against for solong passed away. 

The doctor came in, rubbing his hands softly together. He regretted theunfortunate occasion, but when he had been called in, Sir Charles waslong past mortal aid. Evidently he had been dead for some hours. 

"You are in a position to be quite sure of that?" Beatrice asked. 

"Oh, quite, " Dr. Andrews replied. "One's experience tells that. SirCharles was quite stiff and cold. I should say that he had been deadquite four hours when the door was broken down. "

Just for an instant the doctor hesitated and his easy manner desertedhim. 

"I must see Sir Charles's regular medical man before I can be quitedefinite on that point, " he said. "I have no doubt that death was causedby natural means, at least I see no reason at present to believeanything to the contrary. Indeed, if any doubt remains after that, theremust be a _post mortem_, of course. But still I hope that such a coursewill not be necessary. "

In a vague way Beatrice felt uneasy. If this gentleman was not actuallyconcealing something, he was not quite so satisfied as he assumed tobe. 

"I should like to see my father, if I may, " Beatrice said quietly. 

The doctor led the way to the bedroom and closed the door softly behindthe girl. His face was a little grave and anxious as he walked down thestairs. 

"You appear to be a friend of the family, " he said to Mark as he stoodin the hall. "There are symptoms about the case which frankly I don'tlike. There was no occasion to lacerate Miss Darryll's feelings unduly, but I must see the family doctor at once. It is just possible that youmay happen to know who he is. "

Mark was in a position to supply the desired information, and Dr. Andrews drove off, his face still very grave and thoughtful. MeanwhileBeatrice found herself alone with the dead body of her father. He wasonly partially undressed; he lay on the bed as if he had been overcomewith a sudden illness or fatigue. The handsome boyish features werequite composed; there was a smile on the lips, and yet the expression onthe face was one of pain. Sir Charles appeared to have died as he hadlived--gay, careless, and easy to the last. Always neat, he had placedhis studs and tie on the dressing-table; by them stood a little pile ofletters which had evidently come by a recent post. They had beencarefully cut open with a penknife, so that Beatrice could see they hadbeen read. 

There were tears in the girl's eyes now, for Beatrice recalled the timewhen Sir Charles had been a good father to her in the days before he haddissipated his fortune and started out with the intention of winning itback in the city. Those had been happy hours, Beatrice reflected. 

There was nothing further in the room to call for notice. On thecarpet, in contrast to the crimson ground, lay what looked like atelegram. It was half folded, but there was no mistaking the grey paper. If there was anything wrong here, perhaps the telegram would throw alight on it. Beatrice picked up the message and flattened it on herhand. Then she read it with a puzzled face. Suddenly a flash ofillumination came upon her. Her hand clenched the paper passionately. 

"Is it possible, " she muttered, "that he could have known? And yet thedate and the day! Why, that coward _must_ have known all the time. "

A glance at the dead, placid face there recalled Beatrice to herself. Hastily she thrust the message in her corsage and quietly left the room. Some time had elapsed since Beatrice entered the hotel, but as yet theman she called her husband had not returned. It seemed strange, butBeatrice said nothing. She stood regarding her wedding finery with somefeeling of disgust. 

"I must have a room somewhere and change, " she said; "it seems horribleto be walking about like this when my father is lying dead upstairs. Mark, my woman is here somewhere. Will you try and find her and send herto Lady Rashborough for something black and quite plain? Meanwhile, I'llgo to a bedroom and get some of this finery off. The mere touch of itfills me with loathing. "

Beatrice's maid was discovered at length, and despatched in hot haste toLady Rashborough's. Beatrice had scarcely entered before StephenRichford drove up. He looked anxious and white and sullen withal, and hefavoured Mark with a particularly malevolent scowl. Richford knew therelationship that had existed at one time between Mark and Beatrice. 

"I suppose you must be excused under the circumstances for racing offwith my wife in this fashion, " he said hoarsely. It seemed to Mark thathe had found time to drink somewhere, though, as a rule, that was notone of Richford's failings. "Where is she?"

"She has gone to change, " Mark said. "This is a very unfortunatebusiness, Mr. Richford. "

Richford shrugged his shoulders with an assumption of indifference. Hishand trembled slightly. 

"Sir Charles was getting on in years, " he said; "and Sir Charles had nottroubled to give very great attention to the question of his health. Infact, Sir Charles had gone it steadily. But it seems now to me that solong as the doctors are satisfied as to the cause of death----"

"I am not at all sure the doctor is satisfied, " Mark said significantly. "What's the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing, " Richford stammered. "Nothing more than a twinge ofthat confounded neuralgia of mine. "

CHAPTER VI

Beatrice came down from her room presently, dressed in quiet black. Inher hand she carried not only the telegram but a letter she had takenfrom the dressing-table of the dead man. 

The little group in the hall had by this time been augmented by thepresence of Colonel Berrington; Stephen Richford had slipped offsomewhere. Mark had not failed to notice the restlessness and agitationof his manner. 

"I think I have got rid of everybody, " Berrington said. "It has been amost distressing business, and I am afraid that there is worse to come. Dr. Andrews has just telephoned. He has seen Sir Charles's medical man, and they have decided that there must be an inquest. I don't suggestthat anything is wrong, but there you are. "

"I am not surprised, " Beatrice said coldly, "I have been to my father'sroom looking over his papers. And I found a letter that puzzles me. Itwas written last night as the date shows, in the hotel, on hotel paper, and evidently delivered by hand, as the envelope proves. Look at this. "

Colonel Berrington held out his hand for the envelope. He startedslightly as he looked at the neat, clear handwriting. Something wasevidently wrong here, Mark thought. The Colonel was a man of courage, ashe very well knew, and yet his fingers trembled as he glancedinterrogatively at Beatrice before he drew the letter from the envelope. 

"Yes, " Beatrice said; "I want you to read it. I brought it down onpurpose. "

"There does not seem to be much, " Berrington said. "As there is noheading and signature, the letter may be intended for anybody. "

"Only my father's name happens to be on the envelope, " Beatrice saidquietly. "Pray read it aloud. "

Berrington proceeded to do so. There were only two or three lines inwhich the writer said that she must see the recipient of the letterwithout delay, and that it was of no use to try and keep out of the way. There was nothing more; no threat or sign of anger, nothing to signifythat there was any feeling at all. And yet so much might have beenconcealed behind those simple lines. Berrington looked grave, andtrembled as he handed the letter back to Beatrice. 

"Clearly it is our duty to find out who wrote that letter, " Markobserved. "It was written in the hotel, probably by somebody dining herelast night. It is just possible that it was written by someone who wasstaying in the hotel. In that case we can easily ascertain the name ofthe writer. "

"How is that possible?" Berrington demanded. He asked the question quitenervously. "In a place so large as this, with so many visitorscontinually going and coming----"

"There is a rigid rule here, " Mark proceeded to explain. "Every guest, even if only passing a single night under the roof, has to sign thevisitors' book. With this letter in my hand I can compare signatures. Ifthere is no signature like this characteristic handwriting, then ourtask is no easy one. On the other hand, if there is----"

The speaker paused significantly. Berrington's agitation deepened. Withall her distress and sorrow, Beatrice did not fail to notice it. 

"Perhaps you will go down to the office and see at once, Mark, " Beatricesuggested. 

Ventmore went off obediently enough. Berrington stood watching him for amoment, then he turned to Beatrice and laid his hand gently on her arm. 

"Believe me, this is not going to help anybody, " he said in a low voice. "Unless I am greatly mistaken, I know who wrote that letter. Whatconnection she had with your father and what the secret was between themI shall perhaps never know. But the lady who wrote that letter----"

"Ah, " Beatrice cried, with a flash of sudden inspiration, "it was thegrey lady, I am sure of it. "

"You have guessed correctly, " Berrington went on. "It was the personwhom you have elected to call the grey lady. It was a great shock to meto recognize that handwriting. The secret is not wholly mine to tell, but for a long time I have been seeking the grey lady. I had not theremotest idea that she and Sir Charles had anything in common; littledid I dream that she was here in this hotel last night. But whatever maybe the meaning of this mystery, if there has been foul play here, thegrey lady is quite innocent of it. Don't ask me to say any more, becauseI cannot, I dare not. "

Beatrice nodded in sympathy. The brave, grave soldier by her side wasterribly agitated; indeed Beatrice could not have recognized him asbeing capable of such a display of emotion. 

"I am going to believe in you both, " she said. "Probably the grey ladywas the last person to see my father alive. She may have told him someterrible news; she may have given him the shock that killed him. Butthere was another who knew----"

"What do you mean by that?" Berrington asked. 

"Nothing. I have said too much. That is quite between myself and--andcould possibly have had nothing to do with my father's death. Oh, ifonly Mark had arrived five minutes sooner!"

Berrington knew exactly what was passing through Beatrice's mind. 

"A great pity, indeed, " he said quietly. "What a difference moments makein our lives. Still----"

"Still there is always the doubt, " Beatrice whispered eagerly. Aconstant throng of people passed through the great hall where the deathof Sir Charles was already forgotten. "I am living on the doubt, ColonelBerrington; am I or am I not married to Stephen Richford?"

"I could not say, " Berrington replied. "I have very little knowledge ofthese matters. As far as I could see, the marriage ceremony wascompleted, the ring was placed on your finger, therefore----"

"Therefore you think that I am married, " Beatrice said. She was twistingthe gold badge of servitude on her finger nervously. "I am going to findout for certain. The service was not quite finished; there was noexhortation, there was no signing of the register. Surely I am free ifit is my desire to be free. After what I found to-day----"

Again Beatrice paused as if aware of the fact that she was saying toomuch. There was a certain expression of relief on her face as she sawthe figure of Mark approaching. 

"Well, have you done anything?" she asked eagerly. "Have you made anygreat discovery?"

"I have only been partially successful, " Mark said. "I have identifiedthe writing with a signature of a guest in the visitors' book. The ladycame only yesterday, as the date is opposite her writing. She camewithout a maid and with very little luggage, and she called herself Mrs. Beacon Light. "

"Beacon Light, " Beatrice said reflectively. "It sounds like a _nom deplume_; it suggests the kind of name a lady novelist would assume. Toosingular to be real. And are you quite sure that the lady wrote thatletter to my father?"

"I should say there is very little doubt about it, " Mark replied. "Thehandwritings are identical. It seems that Mrs. Beacon Light stayed herelast night and dined in the red salon. She had breakfast here veryearly, and then she paid her bill and departed. The clerk cannot saywhere she went, for her small amount of baggage was placed in a hansomand the driver was told to go in the first instance to Peter Robinson's. That is everything that I could ascertain. "

There was no more to be said for the present, and very little to bedone. A tall, stiff man, with an air of Scotland Yard indeliblyimpressed upon him, came presently, and asked to be allowed to see SirCharles's suite of rooms. He had been waited upon at his office, heexplained, by the deceased baronet's medical man, who had suggested thenecessity for an inquest, which had been fixed upon for ten o'clock thefollowing day. Under the circumstances the suite of rooms would belocked up and the seal of authority placed on them. The inspector wassincerely sorry to cause all this trouble and worry to Miss Darryll, butshe would quite see that he was doing no more than his duty. 

"But why all this fuss?" Stephen Richford demanded. He had come up atthe same moment. Troubled and dazed as Beatrice was, she could not helpnoticing that Richford had been drinking. The thing was so unusual thatit stood out all the more glaringly. "There's no occasion for aninquest. Dr. Oswin has told me more than once lately that Sir Charleswas giving his heart a great deal too much to do. This thing has got tobe prevented, I tell you. "

"Very sorry, sir, " the inspector said politely; "but it is already outof private hands. Both Dr. Oswin and Dr. Andrews have suggested aninquest; they have notified us, and, if they wished to change theirminds now, I doubt if my chief would permit them. "

Richford seemed to be on the point of some passionate outburst, but hechecked himself. He laid his hand more or less familiarly on Beatrice'sarm, and she could feel his fingers trembling. 

"Very well, " he said sulkily. "If you have made up your minds as to thiscourse, I have no more to say. But there is nothing to gain by standinghere all day. Beatrice, I have something to say to you. "

"I am quite ready, " Beatrice said. "I have also something to say to you. We will go on as far as my sitting-room. Please don't leave the hotel, Colonel Berrington; I may want you again. "

The hard corners of Richford's mouth trembled, but he said nothing. Hedid not utter a word until the door of the sitting-room had closed uponBeatrice and himself. He motioned the girl to a chair, but she ignoredthe suggestion. 

"It is a very awkward situation, " Richford began. "As my wife----"

"I am glad you have come so quickly to the point, " Beatrice saideagerly. "Am I your wife? I doubt it. I do not think I am your wife, because the ceremony was not quite completed and we did not sign theregister. You know what my feelings have been all along; I have nevermade the slightest attempt to disguise them. If I had known that myfather was dead--that he had died on the way to church, I should neverhave become Mrs. Stephen Richford. To save my father's good name I hadconsented to this sacrifice. My father is dead beyond the reach oftrouble. If I had only known. If I had only known!"

The words came with a fierce whisper. They stung the listener as nooutburst of contempt or scorn could. They told him clearly how thespeaker loathed and despised him. 

"Nobody did know, " he sneered. "Nobody could possibly have known. "

"That is not true, " Beatrice cried. She had come a little closer toRichford; her cheeks were blazing with anger, her eyes flamedpassionately. "It is a cowardly lie. There was one man who saw my fatherafter his death, and I am going to prove the fact in a way that cannotpossibly be disputed. One man was in my father's room after his death. That man saw my father lying there, and he crept away without givingthe slightest alarm. You may sneer, you may say that such a thing isimpossible, that the man I allude to would have nothing to gain by sucha course; but as I said before, I am going to prove it. Look at thistelegram I hold in my hand. It was sent before ten o'clock to-day to theperson to whom it is addressed. It evidently relates to some StockExchange business. The address is quite clear; the time the telegram wasdelivered is quite clear, too; and by the side of my father's body Ifound the telegram, which could only have been dropped there by theparty to whom it was addressed. So that party knew that my father wasdead, and that party made no alarm. Why?"

"Why, " Richford stammered. "Why, because, --well, you see it is quitepossible to explain----"

"It is not, " Beatrice cried. "The telegram is addressed to _you_. It wasyou who called on my father; you who found him dead. And in youragitation you dropped that message. Then you grasped the fact that ifthe marriage was postponed it would never take place, that I was in aposition to defy you. You locked my father's door; you said nothing; youmade up your mind to let the ceremony go on. That accounts for youragitation, for the fact that you have been drinking. Cowardly scoundrel, what have you to say to this!"

"What are you going to do?" Richford asked sullenly. 

"Unless you release me here and now, " Beatrice cried, "I swear by Heaventhat I am going to _tell the truth_!"

[Illustration: "Richford stood there shaking and quivering withpassion. " _Page 49. _]

CHAPTER VII

Richford stood there shaking and quivering with passion, and yet notfree from the vague terror that Beatrice had noticed all along. Beatricecould not repress a shudder as she looked at that evil, scowling face. To be with that man always, to share his home and his company, seemed toher a most impossible thing. She had lost her father; the future wasblack and hopeless before her, but she felt a strength and courage now, that she had been a stranger to for a long time. There was hope, too, which is a fine thing when allied with youth and vitality. 

She need not live with this man; she had every excuse for not doing so. Beatrice cared very little, for the moment, whether she was married ornot. It might possibly be that in the eyes of the law she was this man'swife; the law might compel her to share his home. But now Beatrice had aweapon in her hand and she knew how to use it. 

"Give me that telegram, " Richford said hoarsely. "Hand it over to me atonce. "

He advanced in a manner that was distinctly threatening. Certainly hewould not have stopped at violence if violence would serve his end. ButBeatrice was not afraid. 

"I shall do nothing of the kind, " she said. "You may as well strike meas look at me like that. If you use violence you may obtain possessionof the telegram. But I warn you that I shall not yield without astruggle that will arouse the whole hotel. I am not coming with you, andwe part here and now. Oh, I am not in the least afraid. "

Just at that moment it looked as if the scene of violence would takeplace. With an oath Richford grasped the girl by the wrist and drew herto him. A blow full in the face would have laid her senseless at hisfeet, then he could have helped himself to that priceless telegram. ButRichford had been in the world long enough to knew how to control histemper when it suited him to do so. He forced something in the semblanceof a smile to his lips. 

"Don't let us discuss this question like two silly children, " he said. "You have fairly caught me out. I did go to your father thismorning--there was an urgent reason why I should see him. We need not gointo that now, for it was purely on matters of business. If you ask mehow I got into that room when the door was locked, I will tell you. Before I thought of marrying you and setting up a house of my own, I hadthat suite of rooms. "

"Is all this material to our discussion?" Beatrice asked coldly. 

"Yes, I think so. At any rate I never gave up the suite of rooms, andthe keys are still in my possession. That is how I got in to see yourfather without anybody being the wiser. I was going to show him the verytelegram which has fallen into your hands. But I found that Sir Charleswas dead, and it was a great shock to me. I must have dropped thattelegram in my agitation and forgotten it. So far you follow me, do younot?"

"I follow you, " Beatrice said bitterly. "I quite understand; I admireyour restraint and your cunning. You reasoned it all out in a flash. Ifyou raised the alarm everybody would have known the truth in a fewminutes. And, that being so, there would have been no marriage. You tookall the risks, and fortune favoured the bold as fortune always does. Nothing happened until it was too late, and I was married to you. Butthere is one thing you failed to reckon upon--that my father is nolonger a pawn in the game. "

Beatrice was speaking quietly and steadily enough; she felt that thevictory was in her hands now. And Richford had never coveted her sopassionately as he did at this moment when he realized that she was lostto him for ever. 

"My father's death leaves me free, " the girl went on. "He is dead andnobody can touch him. If he had died yesterday the match would have beenbroken off, as you know. I was prepared to take my chance. If this vilething had not happened, then I should have respected my wedding vows andmade you as good a wife as I could. I should have hated and loathed it, but I should have become accustomed to it in time. But this vile actionof yours makes all the difference. When you and I part after thispainful conversation, we part for good. We shall be talked about; therewill be a lot of idle gossip, but I care nothing for that. And if youraise a hand, if you try to use the law on your side, I produce thattelegram and tell my story. "

Again the look of mingled rage and terror came into Richford's eyes. 

"You talk like a fool, " he said hoarsely. "What can you possibly do toget a living? You are my wife; you can never marry anybody so long as Iam alive. You are very pretty, but you have been brought up to beutterly useless. "

"I have strength and courage, " Beatrice replied, "and they are worth agood deal. I can go into a shop if the worst comes to the worst. Myrelatives, the Rashboroughs----"

"Lady Rashborough will turn her back on you if you do this. She will befurious. "

"Well, then, I must depend upon myself. But you are not going to sayanything--for some reason you are too frightened to say anything. "

"And all the wedding presents, the diamonds and the like?" Richfordasked feebly. 

"The wedding presents will go back to the senders. There is a plainclothes policeman keeping guard over them now--your diamonds are amongstthe lot. I will see that they are safely sent to you. And I do not knowthat I need say any more. "

Beatrice had reached the corridor by this time. She was passing Richfordwith her head in the air. It came to him suddenly that he had losteverything, that he was baffled and beaten. In a sudden spasm of rage hecaught the girl by the shoulders in a savage grip. She gave a littlemoan of pain as she looked around for assistance. It came quiteunexpectedly. 

At the same moment Mark Ventmore was coming from his room. He took inthe situation at a glance. With one bound he was by Richford's side, andhe had wrenched his hands away. With a snarl Richford turned upon theman whom he knew to be his successful rival, and aimed a blow at him. Then Mark's fist shot out, and Richford crashed to the ground with alivid red spot on his forehead. Sick and dizzy he scrambled to his feet. 

"You are more than a match for me that way, " he panted. "But there areother ways, my friend, of wiping that blow out. Look to yourself. "

There was a deadly menace in the threat, so that Beatrice shuddered asshe watched the retreating figure. She knew perfectly well that thatblow would not be forgotten. Mark laughed as he heard, then his facechanged and he sighed. 

"What does it all mean, Beatrice?" he asked. "For that man to lay handsupon you and so soon after you are--but I cannot bring myself to say theword. "

"He was not altogether without excuse, Mark, " Beatrice said. "We havecome to an understanding. Never shall I stay under the same roof withStephen Richford. "

"Well, thank God for that, " Mark said fervently. "Something unexpectedhas happened!"

In a few words Beatrice told the story to which Mark listened with vividinterest. An expression of the deepest disgust came over his face asBeatrice finished her story and handed over the telegram. At the sametime the feeling nearest her heart was one of relief. 

"It was the act of a scoundrel, darling, " he said. "And yet things mighthave been worse. For instance, you might not have found that telegram. But since you have done so, the game is all in your hands. You are quiteright to defy that fellow and refuse to live with him. He dare notoppose you, Beatrice. Thank Heaven, I shall be able to think of you aspure and free from contamination. But what are you going to do?"

"I have not thought of that yet, " Beatrice said with a faint smile. "Fora day or two I shall get the Rashboroughs to give me a home. When myfather's affairs come to be settled up there will be a little less thannothing for me to have. Still, I have some jewels which may bring me ina few hundred pounds. But I shall find something to do. "

Mark shut his teeth tightly together to keep back the protestations oflove that rose to his lips. It was no time to speak of that kind ofthing. He felt that he had been tricked out of the only girl for whom hehad ever cared, but, thank goodness, he would not have to think of heras dragging out a lengthening chain by the side of Stephen Richford. AndBeatrice would find something to do--of that he felt certain. 

"I will come and see you in a few days, dearest, " he said. "Though youare bound to that man by the cruel sport of chance, you still belong tome. There can be no harm in my helping you. And may God bless and keepyou wherever you go, darling. "

Mark bent and kissed Beatrice's hand tenderly, and made his way down thestairs. There was nothing now to stay for; Beatrice would go to herfriends, and the strange ending of the Richford-Darryll marriage wouldbe food for the scandal-mongers for many a day to come. All thesethoughts crowded into Mark's mind as he made his way down into the bigdining-room for luncheon. He was sad and sick at heart, but man musteat, all the same. He did not look as if he could eat here at present, for every table was filled. The last seat had fallen to Richford, whofound himself seated opposite to Colonel Berrington. Richford would farrather have been anywhere else, but there was no help for it. 

The Colonel bowed coldly to the other's surly nod. Richford belonged toa class that the gallant soldier frankly detested. He expressed nosurprise at seeing Richford here; it was natural under the circumstancesthat Beatrice should keep to her own room. And Berrington had heardnothing of the matter of the telegram. 

"Oh, never mind all that rubbish, " Richford said testily, as the waiterpassed the elaborate _menu_ with its imposing array of dishes. "What'sthe good of all that foreign cat's meat to an honest Englishman? Give mea steak and plain potatoes and a decanter of brandy. "

The brandy came before the steak, and Richford helped himself liberallyto the liquid. Berrington was a little astonished. He had more than onceheard Richford boast that he was positively a teetotaller. He usuallyheld in contempt those who called themselves merely moderate drinkers. 

"What a time they keep you here, " Richford growled. "If I'd gone to oneof those City places I should have got my steak in half the time. Oh, here the fellow comes. Now, then, I----"

Richford paused in his growling, and contemplated the red hot plate onwhich the steak was displayed with a queer gleam in his eyes and aclicking of the corners of his mouth. Just for the moment it seemed toBerrington as if his _vis a vis_ was going to have a fit of some kind. 

"There is salt in the plate, " Richford gasped. "Who has taken theliberty of putting----"

He said no more; he seemed to be incapable of further speech. The waiterlooked sympathetic; it was no fault of his. And the salt was there, sure enough. 

"It certainly is salt, " the waiter said. "I did not notice it before. It's a lot of salt, _and it is exactly in the shape of a rifle bullet_;it's----When I was in South Africa----"

Berrington's glass clicked as he raised it to his lips. Just for aninstant his face was as pale as that of the man opposite him. With agesture Richford motioned the waiter away. Then he rose unsteadily fromthe table, and finished the rest of his brandy without any water at all. He crossed the room like a ghost. Directly he had passed the swingingdoors Berrington rose and followed. He saw Richford in the distanceentering a hansom; he called one himself. Evidently he had no desire forRichford to see him. 

"Where shall I drive, sir?" the cabman asked. 

"Keep that cab in sight without being seen, " Berrington said hastily. "Do your work well, and it will be a sovereign in your pocket. Now driveon. "

CHAPTER VIII

The cabman gave a knowing wink and touched his hat. Berrington lay backinside the hansom abstractedly, smoking a cigarette that he had lighted. His bronzed face was unusually pale and thoughtful; it was evident thathe felt himself on no ordinary errand, though the situation appeared tobe perfectly prosaic. One does not usually attach a romantic interest toa well-dressed military man in a hansom cab during broad daylight inLondon. But Berrington could have told otherwise. 

"Poor little girl, " he muttered to himself. "Sad as her fate is, I didnot think it was quite so sad as _this_. We must do something to saveher. What a fortunate thing it is that I have always had a love for thestudy of underground human nature, and that I should have found out somuch that appears only normal to the average eye. That innocent patch ofsalt in the shape of a bullet, for instance. Thank goodness, I am on mylong leave and have plenty of time on my hands. My dear little greylady, even your affairs must remain in abeyance for the present. "

The drive promised to be a long one, for half London seemed to have beentraversed before the cabman looked down through the little peep-hole andasked for instructions, as the hansom in front had stopped. 

"The gentleman inside is getting out, sir, " he said. "He's stopped atthe corner house. "

"Go by it at a walk, " Berrington commanded, "and see what house our manenters. After that I will tell you exactly what to do, driver. Only becareful as to the right house. "

The cab pulled up at length once more, and the house was indicated. Berrington proceeded a little further, and then sent his own driver awayrejoicing, a sovereign the richer for his task. Turning up his collarand pulling down his hat, Berrington retraced his steps. 

He was enabled to take pretty good stock of the house Richford hadentered, and without exciting suspicion, because there were trees on theopposite side of the road and seats beneath them. It was a fairly openpart of London, with detached houses on the one side looking on to akind of park. They were expensive houses, Berrington decided, housesthat could not have been less than two hundred and fifty a year. Theylooked prosperous with their marble steps and conservatories on theright side of the wide doorways; there were good gardens behind and nobasements. Berrington could see, too, by the hanging opals in the upperwindows that these houses had electric lights. 

"This is unusual, very unusual indeed, " Berrington muttered to himself, as he sat as if tired on one of the seats under the trees. "The gentrywho cultivate the doctrine that has for its cult a piece of salt in theshape of a bullet, don't as a rule favour desirable family mansions likethese. Still, fortune might have favoured one of them. No. 100, AudleyPlace. And No. 100 is the recognized number of the clan. By the way, where am I?"

A passing policeman was in a position to answer the question. AudleyPlace was somewhat at the back of Wandsworth Common, so that it wasreally a good way out of town. The policeman was friendly, mainly owingto the fact that he was an old soldier, and that he recognizedBerrington as an officer immediately. He was full of information, too. 

"Mostly rich City gents live in Audley Place, sir, " he said. "There isone colonel, too--Colonel Foley of the East Shropshire Regiment. "

"An old college chum and messmate of mine, " Berrington said. "I followedColonel Foley in the command of that very regiment. What house does helive in?"

"That's No. 14, sir, " the delighted officer grinned. "Excuse theliberty, sir, but you must be Colonel Berrington, sir. I was with youall through the first Egyptian campaign. "

Berrington blessed his own good fortune. Here was the very thing that hewanted. 

"We'll fight our battles over again some other day, " he said. "I ampretty sure that I shall see a great deal more of you--by the way, whatis your name? Macklin. Thank you. Now tell me something as to who livesyonder at No. 100. I am not asking out of idle curiosity. "

"I can't tell you the gentleman's name, sir, " Macklin replied. "But Ican find out. The people have not been there very long. A few goodservants, but no men, no ladies so far as I can tell, and the masterwhat you might call a confirmed invalid. Goes about in a bath chairwhich he hires from a regular keeper of this class of thing. Not a veryold gent, but you can't quite tell, seeing that he is muffled up to hiseyes. Very pale and feeble he looks. "

Berrington muttered something to himself and his eyebrows contracted. Evidently he was a good deal puzzled by what he had heard. 

"That is very strange, " he said, "very strange indeed. I will notdisguise from you, Macklin, that I have a very strong reason for wishingto know everything about No. 100, Audley Place. Keep your eyes open andglean all the information you possibly can. Talk to the servants and tryto pump them. And write to me as soon as you have found out anythingworth sending. Here is my card. I shall do no good by staying here anylonger at present. "

The policeman touched his helmet and strode on his way. Berringtonstrolled along under the friendly shadow of the trees till he had leftAudley Place behind him. Once clear of the terrace he called a cab andwas whirled back to town again. 

Meanwhile, absolutely unconscious of the fact that he was being soclosely shadowed, Richford had been driven out Wandsworth way. He didnot look in the least like a modern millionaire of good health andenviable prospects as he drove along. His moody face was pale, his lipstrembled, his eyes were red and bloodshot with the brandy that he hadbeen drinking. The hand that controlled the market so frequently shookstrangely as Richford pressed the bell of No. 100 Audley Place. Therewas no suggestion of tragedy or mystery about the neat parlourmaid whoopened the door. 

"Mr. Sartoris desires to see me, " Richford said. "He sent me amessenger--a message to the _Royal Palace Hotel_. Will you please tellhim I am here. "

The neat parlourmaid opened the drawing-room door and ushered Richfordin. It was a big room looking on the street, but there was nothingabout it to give the place the least touch of originality. The furniturewas neat and substantial, as might have befitted the residence of aprosperous City man, the pictures were by well-known artists, the carpetgave to the feet like moss. There was nothing here to cause Richford toturn pale, and his lips to quiver. 

He paced up and down the room uneasily, starting at every sound untilthe maid returned and asked if the gentleman would be good enough tostep this way. Richford followed down a passage leading to the back ofthe house into a room that gave on to a great conservatory. It was afine room, most exquisitely furnished; flowers were everywhere, the bigdome-roofed conservatory was a vast blaze of them. The room was so warm, too, that Richford felt the moisture coming out on his face. By the firea figure sat huddled up in a great invalid chair. 

"So you have come, " a thin voice said. "Most excellent Richford, you arehere. I was loath to send for you on this auspicious occasion, but itcould not be helped. "

There was the faintest suggestion of a sneer in the thin voice. Richfordcrossed the room and took another chair by the side of the invalid. Theface of the man who called himself Carl Sartoris was as pale as marbleand as drawn as parchment, the forehead was hard and tangled with a massof fair hair upon it, the lips were a little suggestive of cruelty. Itwas the dark eyes that gave an expression of life and vitality, surprising in so weak a frame. Those eyes held the spectator, theyfascinated people by their marvellous vitality. 

"What devil's work are you upon now?" Richford growled. 

"My dear sir, you must not speak to an invalid like that, " Sartorissaid. "Do you not know that I am sensitive as to my own beloved flowers?It was my flowers that I asked you to come and see. Since you were herelast, the room has been entirely redecorated. It seemed to me to be goodthat I should share my artistic joy with so congenial a companion. "

"Damn your flowers!" Richford burst out passionately. "What a cruel, unfeeling fellow you are! Always the same, and will be the same till thedevil comes for you. "

"Which sad event you would regard with philosophic equanimity, " Sartorislaughed. "So, we will get to business as soon as possible. I see thatSir Charles Darryll is dead. I want to know all about that affairwithout delay. What did he die of?"

"How should I know? Old age and too much pleasure. And that's all I cantell you. I found him first. "

"Oh, indeed. The evening paper says nothing about that. "

"For the simple reason that the evening papers don't know everything, "Richford growled. "Quite early to-day I found Sir Charles dead in hisbed. I dared not say a word about it, because, as you know, I was goingto marry his daughter. But, of course, you all knew about _that_, too. You see if I had made my little discovery public, Beatrice would haveknown that death had freed her and her father from certain veryunpleasant consequences that you and I wot of, and would have refused tomeet me at the altar. So I locked the door and discreetly said nothing, my good Sartoris. "

The little man in the invalid chair rolled about horribly and silently. 

"Good boy, " he said. "You are a credit to your parents and the countryyou belong to. What next?"

"Why, the wedding, of course. Lord Rashborough, as head of the family, was giving Beatrice away. Sir Charles did not turn up, but nobodywondered, as he had never been known to attend to an appointment in hislife. And so we were married. "

Once more the little man shook with unholy mirth. 

"And the girl knows nothing about it?" he asked. "I suppose you'll tellher some day when she is not quite so loving as she might be? Ho, ho; itis a joke after my own heart. "

Richford laughed in his turn, then his face grew dark. He proceeded totell the rest of the story. The little man in the chair became quieterand quieter, his face more like parchment than ever. His eyes blazedwith a curious electric fire. 

"So you have lost your wife before you have found her?" he asked. "Youfool! you double-dyed fool! If that girl chooses to tell her story, suspicion falls on you. And if anybody makes a fuss and demands aninquest or anything of that kind----"

"They are going to hold an inquest, anyway, " Richford said sulkily. "Dr. Andrews was in favour of it from the first, and the family doctor, Oswin, has agreed. The police came around and sealed up that suite ofrooms before I left the hotel. But why this fuss?"

"Silence, fool!" came from the chair in a hissing whisper. "Let me havetime to think. That senseless act of folly of yours over the telegrambids fair to ruin us all. You will say so yourself when you hear allthat I have to tell you. Oh, you idiot!"

"Why?" Richford protested. "How did I know Sir Charles was going to die?And if his death took place in a perfectly natural manner and there wasno foul play----"

"Oh, _if_ it did. Perhaps it was wrong on my part not to take you morefully into my confidence. But there is one thing certain. Listen to me, Richford. Whatever happens between now and this time to-morrow _theremust be no inquest on the body of Sir Charles Darryll_!"

The words came with a fierce hissing indrawing of the speaker's breath. He tried to get up from his chair, and fell back with a curse ofimpotence. 

"Push me along to the door, " he said. "Take me to that little roombehind the library where you have been before. I am going to show yousomething, and I'm going to reveal a plot to you. We shall want all yourbrutal bulldog courage to-night. "

The chair slid along on its cushioned wheels, the door closed with agentle spring, and, as it did, a female figure emerged from behind agreat bank of flowers just inside the conservatory. She crossed ontip-toe to the door and as gently closed it. As the light fell it lit upthe pale sad features of the grey lady--the Slave of Silence. 

CHAPTER IX

It was with a sigh of relief that Beatrice found herself at lengthalone. There was nothing for her to do now but to get her belongingstogether and leave the hotel. There would be an inquest on the body ofSir Charles at ten o'clock the following morning, as the authorities hadalready informed her, but Beatrice had looked upon this as merely aformal affair. She would pack her things and leave them in Sir Charles'sdressing-room--the door of which had not been sealed--and send foreverything on the morrow. All her costly presents, including thewonderful diamonds from Stephen Richford, she had entirely forgotten. Asomewhat tired detective was still watching the jewels in a room off thehall where the wedding breakfast was laid out. But the fact had escapedBeatrice's attention. 

Lady Rashborough was having tea alone in her boudoir when Beatricearrived. Her pretty little ladyship was not looking quite so amiable asusual and there was the suggestion of a frown on her face. She had beenlosing a great deal at bridge lately, and that was not the kind ofpastime that Rashborough approved. He was very fond of his empty, hard, selfish, little wife, but he had put his foot down on gambling, and LadyRashborough had been forced to give her promise to discontinue it. Thelittle woman cared nothing for anyone but herself, and she had smallsympathy for Beatrice. 

"What are you doing here?" she asked pettishly. "Where is your husband?"

"That I cannot tell you, " Beatrice replied. "You hardly expected that Ishould have started on my honeymoon under such circumstances, did you?"

"My dear child, don't talk nonsense! Of course not. The proper thing isto go to some very quiet hotel and dine respectably--to lie low till thefuneral is over. Of course this is all very annoying, especially as youhave such a lovely lot of new frocks and all the rest of it, but I daresay they will come in later on. Not that it matters, seeing that youhave a husband who could stifle you in pretty frocks and never miss themoney. What a funny girl you are, Bee. You don't seem to appreciate yourgood luck at all. "

"You regard me as exceedingly lucky, then?" Beatrice asked quietly. 

"My dear girl, lucky is not the word for it. Of course Stephen Richfordis not what I call an ideal husband, but with his amazing riches----"

"Which are nothing to me, Adela, " Beatrice said. "I have discovered theman to be a degraded and abandoned scoundrel. From the first I alwayshated and detested him; I only consented to marry him for the sake of myfather. Adela, I am going to tell you the discovery that I made in myfather's bedroom this morning. "

In a few words Beatrice told her story. But if she expected any outburstof indignation from her listener, she was doomed to disappointment. Thelittle figure in the big arm chair didn't move--there was a smile ofcontempt on her face. 

"Good gracious, what a little thing to fuss about!" she cried. "Itseems to me that the man was paying you a compliment. If I had been inyour place I should have said nothing till I wanted to get the whip handof my husband. My dear child, you don't mean to say that you are goingto take the matter seriously!"

Beatrice felt the unbidden tears gathering in her eyes. She had beensorely taxed and shaken to-day, and she was longing more than she knewfor a little sympathy. People had told her before that Lady Rashboroughhad no heart, and she was beginning to believe it. 

"Do you mean to say, " Beatrice stammered, "do you really want me tobelieve--that----"

"Of course I do, you goose. Money is everything. I married Rashboroughbecause it was the best thing that offered, and I did not want tooverstay my market. It was all a question of money. I would have marrieda satyr if he had been rich enough. And you sit there telling me thatyou are going to leave Stephen Richford. "

"I shall never speak to him again. He and I have finished. I have nomoney, no prospects, no anything. But I decline to return to StephenRichford. "

"And so you are going to have a fine scandal, " Lady Rashborough cried, really angry at last. "You think you are going to hang about here posingas a victim till something turns up. I dare say that Rashborough wouldbe on your side because he is of that peculiar class of silly billy, butyou may be sure that I shall not stand it. As a matter of fact, youcan't stay here, Beatrice. I rather like Richford; he gives me littletips, and he has helped me over my bridge account more than once. If heshould come here to dinner----"

Beatrice rose, her pride in arms at once. It was put pretty well, but itwas cold, and hard, and heartless, and the gist of it was that Beatricewas practically ordered out of the house. She had hoped to remain here afew weeks, at any rate until she could find rooms. She was pleased torecall that she had not sent her things. 

"You need not trouble to put it any more plainly, " she said coldly. "Inthe eyes of your Smart Set, I have done a foolish thing, and you declineto have me here for the present. Very well, I shall not appeal to Frank, though I am quite sure what he would say if I did. All the same, I couldnot tax the hospitality of one who tells me plainly that she does notwant me. "

Beatrice rose and moved towards the door. With a little toss of herhead, Lady Rashborough took up the French novel she had been reading asBeatrice entered. Thus she wiped her hands of the whole affair; thus ina way she pronounced the verdict of Society upon Bee's foolish conduct. But the girl's heart was very heavy within her as she walked back to the_Royal Palace Hotel_. It was only an earnest of the hard things thatwere going to happen. 

And she had no money, nothing beyond a stray sovereign or two in herpurse. She had taken off most of her jewellery with the exception of anold diamond bangle of quaint design. She hated the sight of it now asshe hated the sight of anything that suggested wealth and money. With afirm resolve in her mind, Beatrice turned into a large jeweller's shopin Bond Street. The firm was very well known to her; they had suppliedthe family for years with the costly trifles that women love. The headof the house would see her at once, and to him Beatrice told her story. A little later, and with a comfortably lighter heart, she made her wayback to the _Royal Palace Hotel_ with a sum of money considerably overtwo hundred pounds in her purse. 

The manager of the hotel was sympathetic. Unfortunately the house wasfull, but Beatrice could have Sir Charles's sitting-room and thedressing-room where a bed could be put up. And would Mrs. Richford--Beatrice started at the name--give instructions as to thosepresents?

"I had quite forgotten them, " Beatrice said. "Will you please haveeverything, except some jewels that I will take care of, locked up inyour safe. There are some diamonds which I am going to give into thehands of Mr. Richford at once. I am so sorry to trouble you. "

But it was no trouble at all to the polite manager. He begged that Mrs. Richford would let him take everything off her hands. Wearily Beatricecrept down to dinner with a feeling that she would never want to eatanything again. She watched that brilliant throng about her sadly; shesat in the drawing-room after dinner, a thing apart from the rest. Ahandsome, foreign-looking woman came up to her and sat down on the samesettee. 

"I hope you will not think that I am intruding, " the lady said. "Such asad, sad time for you, dear. Did you ever hear your father speak ofCountess de la Moray?"

Beatrice remembered the name perfectly well. She had often heard herfather speak of the Countess in terms of praise. The lady smiled in asad, retrospective way. 

"We were very good friends, " she said. "I recollect you in Paris whenyou were quite a little thing. It was just before your dear mother died. You used to be terribly fond of chocolates, I remember. "

The lady rambled on in a pleasing way that Beatrice found to besoothing. Gradually and by slow degrees she began to draw out the girl'sconfidence. Beatrice was a little surprised to find that she was tellingthe Countess everything. 

"You are quite right, my dear, " she said quietly. "The heartfirst--always the heart first. It is the only way to happiness. Yourfather was a dear friend of mine, and I am going to be a friend ofyours. I have no children; I had a daughter who would have been aboutyour age had she lived. "

The Countess sighed heavily. 

"I would never have allowed a fate like yours to be hers. I go back homein a few days to my chateau near Paris. It is quiet and dull perhaps, but very soothing to the nerves. It would give me great pleasure for youto accompany me. "

Beatrice thanked the kind speaker almost tearfully. It was the firsttouch of womanly sympathy she had received since her troubles had begun, and it went to her heart. 

"It is very, very good of you, " she said. "A friend is what I sorelyneed at present. When I think of your goodness to a comparative strangerlike me----"

"Then don't think of it, " the Countess said almost gaily. "Let us getrid of that horrible man first. You must return those fine diamonds tohim. Oh, I know about the diamonds, because I read an account of themin the papers. Perhaps you have already done so?"

"No, " Beatrice said, "they are in my dressing-room at the presentmoment. "

"Oh, the careless girl! But that shows how little you value that kind ofthing. Well, General, and what do you want with me at this time of theevening?"

A tall, military man had lounged up to them. He was exquisitelypreserved. He bowed over Beatrice's hand as he was introduced as GeneralGastang. 

"Delighted to meet you, " he said. "I knew your father slightly. Countess, your maid is wandering in a desolate way about the corridor, looking for you, with some story of a dressmaker. "

"_Ma foi_, I had quite forgotten!" the Countess exclaimed. "Do not gofrom here, _chérie_; talk to the General till I return, which will notbe long. Those dressmakers are the plague of one's life. I will be backas soon as possible. "

The General's manner was easy and his tongue fluent. Beatrice had onlyto lean her head back and smile faintly from time to time. The Generalsuddenly paused--so suddenly that Beatrice looked up and noticed thesudden pallor of his face, his air of agitation. 

"You are not well?" the girl asked. "The heat of the room has been toomuch for you. "

The General gasped something; with his head down he seemed to beavoiding the gaze of a man who had just come into the drawing-room. Asthe newcomer turned to speak to a lady, the General shot away fromBeatrice's side, muttering something about a telegram. He had hardlyvanished before Beatrice was conscious of a cold thrill. 

After all she knew nothing of these people. Such scraps of her historyas they had gleaned might have come from anybody. Then Beatrice hadanother thrill as she recollected the fact that she had told thisstrange Countess that the diamonds were in her dressing-room. Supposethose two were in league to----

Beatrice waited to speculate on this point no longer. She hurried fromthe room and up the stairs to her bedroom. The corridors werepractically deserted at this time in the evening. Beatrice gave a sighof relief to see that her door was shut. She placed her hand gently onthe handle, but the door did not give. 

It was locked on the inside! From within came whispering voices. Inamaze, the girl recognized the fact that one of the voices belonged toCountess de la Moray, and the other to the man who called himself herhusband, Stephen Richford. 

There was nothing for it now but to stay and wait developments. 

CHAPTER X

Beatrice had not long to wait. Only a few minutes elapsed before thedoor flew open and Richford came out so gently that Beatrice had barelytime to step into a friendly doorway. Her senses were quick and alertnow in the face of this unknown danger, and the girl did not fail tonote the pale face and agitated features of the man who had sogrievously harmed her. Evidently Richford had been drinking no more, butcertainly he had had some great shock, the effects of which had notpassed away. He muttered something as he passed Beatrice, and looked athis watch. Directly he had disappeared down the corridor, Beatricestepped into her room. 

The Countess was standing by the dressing-table picking up the odds andends there in a careless kind of way, but evidently in an attitude ofdeep attention. Beatrice's feeling of alarm became somewhat less as shesaw that the case of diamonds on the dressing-table had not beentouched. If anything like a robbery had been contemplated she was intime to prevent it. Just for the moment it occurred to Beatrice todemand coldly the reason for the intrusion, but she thought the betterof that. Clearly there was some conspiracy on foot here, and it would bebad policy to suggest that she suspected anything. So Beatrice forced alittle smile on her lips as she crossed the room. 

"I shall have to give you in charge as being a suspicious character, "she said. "I shall begin to believe that your dressmaker only existed inyour imagination. "

The Countess gave a little scream, and her face paled somewhat under herrouge. But she recovered herself with marvellous quickness. Her lips hadceased to tremble, she smiled gaily. 

"I am fairly caught, " she said. "There is nothing for it but to pleadguilty and throw myself on the mercy of the court. You see, I have nottaken the diamonds, though I have looked at them. "

It was all so admirably and coolly said, that it might have deceivedanybody who did not know quite so much as Beatrice. But she had made upher mind that no suspicion of the truth should come out. Quitecarelessly she opened the lid of the jewel cases so that she might seefor herself that she was not the victim of this magnificent adventuress. 

But the gems were there right enough. Their marvellous rays seemed tofill the room with livid fire. Beatrice glanced at her companion; thelatter had caught her underlip fiercely between her teeth, her handswere clenched. And Beatrice knew that but for the intervention of thatstranger in the drawing-room and the sudden flight of the General, shewould never have seen those diamonds again. And yet Stephen Richford hadbeen in the same room with this brilliant adventuress! Beatrice wouldhave given a great deal to see to the bottom of the mystery. 

"Oh, it is indeed a narrow escape that you have had, " the Countess said. "I was not feeling very well, so I sent my maid to ask you to come to myroom. She said you had already gone, so I took the liberty of cominghere. Is not that so?"

"Then we had perhaps better stay and talk here, " Beatrice suggested. "Adeline, will you take this case down to the office and ask the managerto place it with my other valuables in the safe? Be very careful, because they are diamonds. "

Adeline, who had just come in, took the case in her hand. The Countesshad turned her back, but Beatrice caught sight of her face in the chevalglass. It was livid with fury, and all wrinkled up with greed andbaffled cupidity. The girl was afraid to trust her voice for a moment. She knew now that unless she had taken this course, the diamonds wouldnot have been hers much longer. A woman who could look like that wascapable of anything. Some cunning plan, perhaps some plan that tookviolence within its grasp, would have been carried out before theevening was over. So alarmed was Beatrice that she followed Adeline tothe door. She wanted to see the jewels safe and regain her lostself-possession at the same time. It seemed to be a critical moment. 

"If you will excuse me, " she said, "I had forgotten to give my maidanother message. "

The Countess nodded and smiled gaily. She was master of herself oncemore. Beatrice stepped out of the room and followed Adeline at a safedistance to the end of the stairs. So far as she knew to the contrary aconfederate might be lingering about waiting for a signal. Surelyenough, General Gastang was loitering in the hall smoking a cigarette. But he seemed to be powerless now, for he made no sign, and with a sighof relief Beatrice saw Adeline emerge presently from the office minusthe cases which she had previously carried. 

"Now, I fancy I have finished my business for the evening, " Beatricesaid. "I have been thinking over the very kind offer you made to me alittle time ago. You can hardly understand how anybody as lonely asmyself appreciates such kindness as yours. "

The Countess raised her hands as if to ward off the gratitude. They wereslim hands with many rings upon them, as Beatrice did not fail tonotice. 

And on the finger of the left hand something was hanging that lookedlike a wisp of silk thread. 

"Excuse me, " Beatrice said, "you have something attached to one of yourrings. Let me remove it for you. That is all right. It seems verystrange, but----"

Beatrice checked herself suddenly and walked rapidly across the room. She had made what in the light of recent events was a startlingdiscovery. At first she had imagined that the long silken fluff wasattached to one of the rings, but this her quick eyes had proved to be amistake. On one of the slim fingers of the Countess was a thick smear ofwax. 

Beatrice could see a little of it sticking to the palm of the hand now. She understood what this meant. That neat little woman was by no meansthe sort of person to dabble habitually in tricks of that kind, andBeatrice suddenly recollected that wax was used for taking impressionsof locks and keys and the like. But surely there could be nothing worthall that trouble in this room, she thought. Nor would anything of thatkind have been necessary to get possession of the jewels. Besides, ifany waxen impression of anything had been taken, Stephen Richford wouldhave done it. Just for a moment it occurred to Beatrice that it would bea good idea to change her room, but she dismissed the impulse ascowardly, and besides, the manager had advised her that he had notanother room at his disposal in the hotel. 

Still, she was on her guard now, and she made up her mind to slumberlightly to-night. After all the exciting events of the day, it was notlikely that she would sleep at all. And yet she felt very dull andheavy; she could think of nothing to say, so that the Countess rosepresently and proclaimed the fact that she was quite ready for bedherself. 

"I am selfish, " she said. "I am keeping you up, for which I should beashamed of myself. Good-night, my dear, and pleasant dreams to you. "

The speaker flitted away with a smile and a kiss of her jewelledfingers. Beatrice drew a long sigh of relief to find herself alone oncemore. 

She locked the door carefully and commenced a thorough examination ofthe room. It was some time before her quick eyes gave her any clue tothe meaning of the wax on the Countess's hands. Then she found it atlast. There was another of the silken threads hanging on the lock of thedoor leading to the room where Sir Charles lay. On the official sealplaced there by the police officers was a tiny thread of silk. It wasnot attached to the seal in any way. It came away in Beatrice's handswhen she pulled it, as if it had been fixed there by gum. Beatrice knewbetter than that. On the silk was wax, as she discovered when her handtouched it. A piece of soft white wax had been pressed on the seal, andhad left strong traces behind. 

Now, what did this strange mystery mean? Beatrice asked herself. Why didanybody require an impression of that seal? What object could anyonehave in getting into the room where the dead man lay? The more Beatriceasked herself this question the more puzzled did she become. She thoughtit over till her head ached and her eyes grew heavy. So engrossed wasshe that she quite failed to notice several little impatient knocks atthe door. Then the girl came to herself with a start, and opened thedoor to admit her maid, as she expected. 

But it was not Adeline come back, but the Countess with a dazzling whitesilk wrap over her shoulders. She was profoundly apologetic, but whatwas she to do? Her maid had been taken ill and she had been commanded tobed by a doctor. The Countess was very sorry for Marie, but she had alittle sympathy left for herself. It was impossible for her to unhookthe back of her dress. Would Beatrice be so kind as to do it for her?

"Of course I will, " Beatrice said. "It is awkward being without a maid. Let me shut the door. "

It was no great task that Beatrice had set herself, but it was notrendered any more easy because the Countess pranced about the room as ifunable to keep still. She held in her hand a smelling bottle with apowerful perfume that Beatrice had never smelt before. It was sweet yetpungent, and carried just a suggestion of a tonic perfume with it. Butthe task was accomplished at length. 

"I fancy that is all you require, " Beatrice said. "What scent is thatyou are using?"

"It is some new stuff from Paris, " the Countess said carelessly. "It issupposed to be the most marvellous thing for headaches in the wideworld. Personally, I find it a little too strong. Do you likeperfumes?"

"I am afraid they are a weakness of mine, " Beatrice confessed. "It isvery silly, I know, but it is so. "

The Countess removed the glass stopper from the bottle. 

"Try it, if you like, " she said. "Only you must not take too much of itat first. "

Beatrice placed the bottle to her nostrils. A delicious thrill passedthrough her veins. All sense of fatigue had gone; she felt conscious ofonly one thing, and that was the desire to lie down and sleep. In adreamy way she watched the Countess depart and close the door behindher; then she crossed over to the bed and lay on it just as she was--herthoughts seemed to be steeped in sunshine. 

When Beatrice awoke at length, it was broad daylight, and Adeline wasleaning over her. The girl's face was white and her lips unsteady. 

"I am glad you have come round, Miss, " she said. "You wouldn't believethe trouble I have had to arouse you, and you such a light sleeper as arule. Don't you feel well?"

"I never felt better in my life, " Beatrice said. "I have slept for hoursand hours. But it is for me to ask if you don't feel well, Adeline. Yourface is so curiously white and your lips tremble. What is it? Hassomething happened? But that is quite out of the question. All thedreadful things came together yesterday. Tell me, what time is it, Adeline?"

"It's a little past ten, Miss, " Adeline said in a low voice that shook alittle. "On and off, I have been trying to wake you since eight o'clock. And there is a gentleman to see you in the sitting-room as soon as youhave time--two gentlemen, in fact. "

Beatrice asked no further questions, though she could see from Adeline'smanner that something out of the common had taken place. But Beatricefelt curiously strong and steady to-day. It seemed impossible that fatecould have anything worse in store than had already befallen her. With afirm step she went into the sitting-room where two men rose and bowedgravely. One she recognized as the inspector of police who had comeafter the tragedy yesterday, the other was Dr. Andrews. 

"You sent for me, gentlemen?" she said quietly. "It is a matter of theinquest, of course? Will you have to call me? I am afraid I can give youno information--my father never had anything the matter with him as faras I know. If you could spare me the pain----"

Dr. Andrews nodded gravely; he seemed unable to speak for the moment. 

"It is not that, " he said quietly. "If we spare you one pain we give youanother. Miss Darryll, I should say Mrs. Richford, a terrible thing hashappened, a strange, weird thing. As you know, the inquest was to havebeen to-day. Events have rendered that utterly impossible. Please bebrave. "

"You will not have to complain of me on that score, " Beatrice whispered. 

"Then it is this. By some strange means, certain people entered SirCharles's room last night and carried him away. It is amazing, but thebody of Sir Charles has disappeared!"

CHAPTER XI

Beatrice reached out a hand and steadied herself against a chair. Justfor a moment the whole world seemed to be spinning around her. Brave andcourageous as she was, these shocks, coming one after the other, hadbeen too much for her. When she opened her eyes again she found thatMark Ventmore was standing by her side. 

"Courage, darling, " he whispered. "We seem to have come to the worst ofeverything. Whatever may be the result and meaning of this dastardlyoutrage, nothing can hurt your father. "

The colour was slowly coming back into the girl's pallid lips. With aneffort she struggled for the possession of herself. She was alone in theworld, she had a position that would cause most of her women friends toturn coldly from her, but Mark remained. And there was always thefeeling that she had nothing further to fear from Stephen Richford. 

"I can bear it all now, " she said. "Tell me everything, please. "

"Up to the present there is very little to say, " Inspector Fieldobserved. "I came here a little before ten this morning to open SirCharles's bedroom so as to be prepared for the visit of the jury and thecoroner. After the decision arrived at by both doctors, of course theinquest to-day would have been quite formal. It would have been deferredfor a few days pending the _post-mortem_ examination. I am putting itas delicately as possible. "

"Oh, I know, I know, " Beatrice said with a shudder. "Only it is adreadful thing for a daughter to listen to. Will you go on, please?"

"In the course of my duty I have to see that the seals have not beentampered with. Of course in a large hotel like this, where guests are inthe corridor all day and night, I never for a moment anticipatedanything wrong. Still, I examined the seals carefully and they appearedto me to be absolutely intact. With my sergeant we broke the seals andentered the room, the door of which was locked. Imagine our astonishmentwhen we found that the body of the poor gentleman had vanished. In allthe extraordinary cases that have ever come under my notice, I neverrecollect anything so amazing as this. "

It was amazing, stupendous--so much so, that nobody spoke for a littletime. Beatrice had taken a seat and sat waiting for somebody to askquestions. She was no longer dazed and frightened; her brain was workingrapidly. It seemed to her that she would be able to throw a light onthis mysterious disappearance presently. 

"Are you quite sure that the seals are intact?" Mark asked. 

"If you had asked me that question half an hour ago, I should have saidmost assuredly so, sir, " Field replied. "I looked carefully to see. Wealways do. How on earth a body could have been spirited away like thiswith people about till late, to say nothing of the night watchman goinghis rounds, and the night porter down below--but we need not go intothat yet. My seals appeared to be in perfect order. "

"But that really could not have been the fact, " Mark persisted. "I fancywe can dispense with the idea that Sir Charles was removed by spiritualagency. Now, would it not have been possible for anyone to have taken animpression of the seals?"

"Just possible, " Field admitted. "But what would have been the useof----"

"A great deal of use, it seems to me, " Mark went on. "But I will come tothat presently. Let us take one thing at a time. For some reason orother, those scoundrels have found it imperatively necessary to spiritaway the body of Sir Charles. Perhaps they are afraid of the result of a_post-mortem_. That is another point we need not bother about for thepresent. Did you give any orders to the watchman here to keep an eye onthat door?"

"Well, I did, " Field admitted. "I particularly mentioned the seals, incase any very zealous housemaid, imagining that somebody had beendisfiguring the doors, should remove them. "

"Then if the seals had been broken, the night watchman would havenoticed it?"

"I should say that such a thing was highly possible, " Field admittedwith an admiring glance in the direction of his questioner. "Really, sir, you would make an admirable detective. You mean that the scoundrelsmight require some little time in the next room and that anyinterruption----"

"Precisely, " Mark proceeded. "Let us admit, for the sake of argument, that these men were staying in the hotel last night. Where so manypeople come and go, they would not be noticed, and, on the whole, thatplan would be safer. If they were seen, even in the dead of night, inthe corridor--possibly in slippers and pajamas--by the watchman, nosuspicion would have been aroused. Previously they had managed to get animpression of the seal and made one like it. They then broke the sealand entered the room by means of a master key. The confederate outsideimmediately clapped on another seal, and those inside were quite safeuntil they were ready. After the body was stolen, another seal wasaffixed which gave them plenty of time and prevented discovery by thenight watchman, to say nothing of the addition of mystery to the thing. "

The inspector nodded approvingly. So far as he could see, the reasoningwas perfectly clear. But then it did not tend to throw any light on thestrange disappearance of the body. 

"So far I follow you perfectly, sir, " Field said. "Nothing could beclearer or more logical. In that way it would be comparatively easy toenter the bedroom and make preparations for the removal of the bodywithout any chance of being interrupted. At this part the real troublebegins. The body is a bulky thing, and has to be removed from the hotel. How was that to be done? How could it be done without somebody knowing?That is where I am at fault. "

"It could be done in this way, " Mark said. "The body might have beenremoved to a bedroom close by and packed in a large trunk by somebodywho ostensibly was going by a very early train. "

"Pardon me, " the inspector interrupted, "nobody went by an early train. We have gone into that most carefully. Of course a lot of people haveleft early to-day--as they do every day--but, so far as I can hear, nobody in the least suspicious. "

"Then it was done in another manner. It is not quite clear to me how, atpresent, although I have my idea on the subject. Before I could speakdefinitely on that point I should like to see the night watchman and thehall porter. "

But neither of these officials was present. They had gone off duty atseven o'clock, and they did not return again till late in the afternoon. It seemed a pity to disturb their rest, but Field decided that they mustbe sent for--and indeed he had already dispatched a messenger for thatpurpose. Till the two men came to the hotel, nothing further could bedone in that direction. There was a little pause here. 

"I fancy I can throw some light on this, " Beatrice said. "In the firstplace, will somebody ascertain for me whether the Countess de la Morayand General Gastang are still staying in the hotel? I feel pretty surethey are gone, but it is just possible that such may not be the case. Let this inquiry be made delicately, please. "

Inspector Field departed to ask the question himself. He came backpresently with the information that the General and the Countess hadalready gone, in fact they had not really been staying in the hotel atall--their luggage was elsewhere, as the hotel they generally favouredwas full--they had only come to the _Royal Palace Hotel_ for the night, and it had been their intention to proceed to Paris in the morning. 

"Then it is General Gastang and the Countess de la Moray that we have tolook after, " Beatrice cried. "The Countess came to me last night in thedrawing-room. She professed to be an old friend of my father, and, indeed, I must confess that she knew a great deal about the family. Shewas very nice indeed, and asked me to go and stay with her near Paris. Being a little lonely just at present, I quite took to her. Subsequentlythe General was introduced to me. He brought a message to the Countess, who excused herself. Then some stranger came in and the Generalvanished. He was quite taken aback for a moment, and evidently went indeadly fear of being recognized. Of course this aroused my suspicions. Ihad heard of these well-dressed, good-class swindlers in hotels before, and immediately I thought of my jewels. I went straight to my room andthe door was locked. People were talking inside and I waited. Then thedoor opened and a man came out and walked away. "

"Would you recognize that man again, Miss?" Field asked eagerly. 

"I should certainly be able to recognize him again, " Beatrice saidquietly. She passed the point over rapidly. Something preventedher--shame, perhaps--from saying it was the man who called himself herhusband. "After that I entered my room. The Countess was taken aback, but very quickly she recovered herself. Then I noticed that there was athread of silk sticking to her hands, and after that I further noticedthat her hand was covered with wax. Even then the truth did not dawnupon me till I saw a similar thread sticking to the seal on the doorleading to my father's room. And then I knew that the Countess had takenan impression of the seal. They did not dare to take the impression inthe corridor, I suppose, and that was why they hit upon the cleverexpedient of using the privacy of my room for the purpose. "

"Excellent!" Field said. "Nothing could be better. Beyond the shadow ofa doubt these people are at the bottom of the whole business. Did youfrighten the lady, Miss?"

"Not in the least, " Beatrice replied. "I was particularly careful not toarouse suspicions that I had noticed anything out of the common. But Iknew perfectly well that I was just in time to save my diamonds. However, that has nothing to do with the question. The Countess cameback very late, under the pretence that she required my services as hermaid. She managed to drug me with some very powerful scent, I presume, with a view of using my room whilst I was unconscious, if any hitch tookplace. But you may be sure that these people are under the impressionthat nobody could possibly identify them with the outrage. There willnot be any great difficulty in tracing them. "

"Thanks to your skill and courage, " Field said admiringly. "We can donothing further till we hear from the night porter and his colleague. Iwill make a few inquiries in the hotel, and I shall be very glad, Miss, if you will write down for me as clear and as accurate a description aspossible of the General and the Countess. "

A little time later Beatrice found herself alone with Mark. ColonelBerrington was waiting down in the hall. Mark looked tenderly intoBeatrice's pallid, beautiful face, and he gently stroked her head. 

"This is a very dreadful business for you, darling, " he said. "Yourcourage----"

"My courage can stand any strain so long as I know that I am free of myhusband, " the girl said. "When I think of my troubles, and they begin toovercome me, I always go back to that reflection. It seems to lift me upand strengthen me. Mark, I believe I should have died, or killed myself, had I been compelled to be with that man. "

"You have not seen any more of him, I suppose?" Mark asked. 

"Last night, " Beatrice whispered. "Mark, I did not tell the detectiveone thing--I felt that I really could not. I spoke of the man who wascloseted in my room with the Countess. I said I would recognize himagain. It was my husband, Stephen Richford. "

Mark's face expressed his amazement. Before he could reply the dooropened and Inspector Field came in again. His face was grave and stern. 

"This is a fouler business than ever I imagined, " he said. "Both hallporter and night watchman are missing. Neither has been seen at theirlodgings since they left duty to-day. "

CHAPTER XII

The story had gone abroad by this time. All London knew of the strangedisappearance of the body of Sir Charles Darryll. Of course the wildestrumours were afloat, the cheaper newspapers had details that had beenevolved from the brilliant imagination of creative reporters; a score ofthem had already besieged the manager of the _Royal Palace Hotel_ andwere making his life a burden to him. The thing was bad enough as itstood; enough damage had been done to the prestige of the hotel withoutmaking matters worse in this fashion. 

There was nothing further to say at present except that the news wastrue, and that the police had no clue whatsoever for the moment. 

"Not that it is the slightest use telling them anything of the kind, "Field muttered. "Whenever there is a mystery the press always gives usthe credit for the possession of a clue. In that way they very oftensucceed in scaring our game away altogether. I don't say that the papersare useless to us, but they do more harm than good. "

All the same, Field was not quite at a loss to know what to do. Beatricehad given him a full and accurate description of the two adventurers whohad vanished, leaving no trace behind them. They had suggested that alltheir belongings were at the _European Hotel_, but a question or twoasked there had proved that such was not the case. 

"And yet they have gone and covered up their tracks behind them, " Fieldsaid. "Why? Miss Darryll--I should say, Mrs. Richford--is quite surethat she did not alarm either of them. Then why did they disappear likethis? Perhaps they were spotted by somebody else over another matter. Perhaps the gentleman who so scared our 'General' in the drawing-room ofthis hotel had something to do with the matter. We shan't get muchfurther on the track of this interesting pair until I have had a talkwith some of the foreign detectives. "

"You can, at any rate, look after the missing hotel servants, " Marksuggested. 

But that was already being done, as Field proceeded to explain. It wasjust possible that they had been the victims of foul play. Most of thenewspaper men had been cleared out by this time, and there being nothingfurther to learn, the hotel resumed its normal condition. People cameand went as they usually do in such huge concerns; the mystery wasdiscussed fitfully, but the many visitors had their own business toattend to, so that they did not heed the half score of quiet andsternfaced men who were searching the hotel everywhere. At the end of anhour there was no kind of trace of anything that would lead to thewhereabouts of the missing men. Colonel Berrington came to the head ofthe grand stairway presently holding a little round object in his hand. 

"I have found this, " he said. "It is a button with the initials R. P. H. On it, evidently a button from the uniform of one of the servants. Asthere is a scrap of cloth attached to it, the button has evidently beenwrenched off, which points to a struggle having taken place. Don't youfeel inclined to agree with me, Inspector?"

On the whole Inspector Field was inclined to agree. Would ColonelBerrington be so good as to take him to the exact spot where the buttonwas found? The button had been discovered on the first landing, and hadlodged on the edge of the parquet flooring on the red carpet. They werevery thick carpets, as befitted the character of the hotel. 

Inspector Field bent down and fumbled on the floor. He had touched apatch of something wet. When he rose his fingers were red as if the dyehad come out of the carpet. 

"Blood, " he said, as if in answer to Berrington's interrogative glance. "Very stupid of us not to think of something like this before. But thesecarpets are so thick and of so dark a colour. Beyond doubt some deed ofviolence has taken place here. See. "

The inspector smeared his hand further along the carpet. The red patchwas very large. A little further along the wall there were otherpatches, and there was the mark of a blood-stained hand on the handle ofa door which proved to be locked. 

"Is anybody occupying this room at present?" Field asked a hotelservant. 

"Not exactly, sir, " the man replied. "That door gives on to one of thefinest suites in the hotel. It is rented by the Rajah of Ahbad. HisHighness is not here at present, but he comes and goes as he likes. Hekeeps the keys himself, and the door is only opened by his steward, whocomes along a day or two before his royal master. "

"All the same they are going to be opened now, " said Field grimly. "Goand tell the manager that I want him here at once. I suppose there aremaster keys to this. "

But there were no master keys to the Royal suite; the locks had beenselected by the Rajah himself. It was an hour or more later before alocksmith from Milner's managed to open the door. They were thick doors, sheet lined, and locked top and bottom. Field switched up the electriclights and made a survey of the rooms. The blinds were all down and theshutters up. Suddenly Inspector Field gave a grunt of satisfaction. 

"We've got something here, at any rate, " he said. "And the poor chapseems to be badly hurt. Carry him out gently and see if the doctor isstill here. "

A body lay on the floor; the hands and arms were secured to the sides bystraps; a tightly rolled pad of black cloth was fixed in the poorfellow's mouth. There was a ghastly wound on the side of his head fromwhich the blood was still oozing; a great deal of it had congealed onhis collar. A slight groan proved that the victim was still alive. "It'sthe hall porter, " the manager cried. "It's poor Benwort. What a horriblething!"

"Looks like concussion of the brain, " Field said. "Thank goodness, here's Dr. Andrews. We will make a further search of these rooms, forit's pretty certain that the other fellow is here also. Ah, I felt verysure that we should find him. "

A second man, also in the livery of the hotel, lay by a sofa. He seemedto have fared better, for there was no blood on his face, though agreat swelling over his right ear testified to the fact that he had beenseverely handled. He was not insensible, but he hardly knew what he wastalking about as he was placed on his feet. 

"Tell us all about it, " the inspector said encouragingly. "What reallyhappened?"

"Don't ask me, " Catton, the night watchman said, as he held his hands tohis head. "My brain feels as if it had been squeezed dry. Somebody hitme on the head after a lady in grey came and fetched me. A little ladyin grey, with a sad face and grey eyes. "

Berrington started violently, and Mark looked up in surprise. The greylady--Beatrice's Slave of Silence--seemed to run through this mysterylike the thread of a story. It was an entirely interesting moment, butunhappily the night watchman could say no more. 

"Don't worry me so, " he whined. "Put some ice on my head and let mesleep. I dare say I shall be able to puzzle it out in time. Somebodycarried something down the stairs; then the big door opened and thenight porter whistled for a cab. That's all. "

The speaker lurched forward and appeared to fall into a comatose state. There was nothing for it but to put him to bed without delay. Fieldlooked puzzled. 

"I suppose that poor fellow was talking coherently in snatches, " hesaid. "No doubt just after he got that crack on the head he did see abulky package taken downstairs. But then he says he heard the door openand a cab whistled for by the night porter. Now that's impossible, seeing that the night porter got his quietus also. Now who called upthat cab? Evidently somebody did, and no doubt the cab came. Well, weshall find that cab. Saunders, go at once and see what you can do inthe direction of finding that cab. "

The mystery seemed to get deeper and deeper the more Field got on thetrack. He could quite understand how it was that both of these hotelservants had been put out of action, so to speak, but who was the greylady who had given the note of warning, and why had those two men beenplaced in the suite of rooms belonging to the Rajah of Ahbad? Thegagging and the hiding were all right, and that line of policy gave allthe more time to the ruffians who had done this thing. Also it waspossible on reflection to understand why the Rajah's room had beenchosen, as no search, but for the bloody door handle, would have beenmade there. But where had those people procured those patent Brahma lockkeys from?

The wild supposition that the Rajah himself was in the business wasabsurd. That idea might be dismissed on the spot. The more Field thoughtof it the more was he puzzled. He would take an early opportunity ofseeing the Rajah. 

"He's a quiet sort of man, " the hotel manager explained. "I should fancythat he has an English mother, by the look of him. Anyway, he is Englishto all intents and purposes, having been educated at Eton and Oxford. Heonly took these rooms a few months ago; he was brought here after a badillness, and when he went away he was carried to his carriage. But theysay he's all right now. But, Mr. Inspector, you don't mean to say thatyou think that the Rajah----"

"Has any hand in this business? Of course I don't, " Field said testily. "I'm just a little put out this morning, so you must forgive my badtemper. The more one digs into the thing, the more black and misty itbecomes. I think I'll go as far as the Yard and have a talk to one ortwo of our foreign men. Well, Saunders?"

"Well, I've done some good, " Saunders said. "I have not found the cabmanwe want, but I've got on the track of another who can tell me somethinguseful. He's a night man, and he is waiting down in the hall for you atthis moment, sir. "

"I think I'll go along, if you don't mind, " Berrington suggested. 

Field had no objection to make, and together the two descended to thehall. A little, apple-faced, shrivelled-looking man was waiting forthem. There was no reason to ask his occupation--London cabman waswritten all over him in large letters. 

"I can't tell you much, sir, " he said. "It was just past two when Iheard the whistle here. I was waiting with my cab at the corner ofShepherd Street. It's out of my line a bit, but I pulled up there in thehopes of getting a return fare. When I heard the whistle I came up withmy cab, but I was just a shade too late. There was another cab beforeme, a black cab with a black horse, a rather swell affair. The driverwas wearing a fur coat and a very shiny top hat. We had a few words, butthe hotel porter told me to be off, and I went back to the stand where Istayed till just daylight. Nobody else left the hotel in a cab. "

"This is important, " Field muttered. "By the way, would you recognizethe hall porter again? You would! Then come this way and we will see ifyou can. "

But the cabman was quite sure that the damaged man lying on the bed atthe top of the hotel was not the same one who had ordered him away a fewhours before. He was quite sure because the lights in the hotel porticowere still full on, and he had seen the hall porter's face quitedistinctly. 

"A regular plant, " Field exclaimed. "A clever thing indeed. Was theblack cab empty when it came up, or was there anybody inside it?"

"Somebody was inside it, " was the prompt reply. "A pale gentleman, verylame he was. He tried to get out of the cab but the driver pushed himback, and he and the hall porter hoisted the big trunk on top of thecab. And that's all, sir. "

Berrington listened intently. He was struggling with some confusedmemory in which the grey lady and Stephen Richford were all mixed uptogether. Suddenly the flash of illumination came. He smote his hand onhis knee. 

"I've got it, " he cried. "I've got it. The lame man of No. 100 AudleyPlace!"

CHAPTER XIII

Berrington's exclamation of surprise was not lost upon Inspector Field. He stood obviously waiting for the gallant officer to say something. Asthere was a somewhat long pause, the inspector took up the parable forhimself. 

"In a great many cases that come under our hands, so many give us achance, " he said. "We allow something for luck. More than once inlooking up one business I have come across a burning clue of another. "

"What is the meaning of all this philosophy, Mr. Field?" Berringtonasked. 

"Well, I think it is pretty obvious, if you care to see it. We areengaged, just for the present, on looking for a private hansom, paintedblack, in which is seated a lame gentleman. The rest of ourinvestigation does not matter just now, because we have beyond doubtactually traced the parties who conveyed the body of Sir Charles fromthe hotel. When the lame gentleman is spoken of you say something aboutNo. 100, Audley Place. It is quite obvious that you know something ofthe man, or at any rate you think you do. May I point out that it isyour duty to help us if you can. "

Berrington looked uncomfortable. As a matter of fact he had made up hismind to say nothing as to Audley Place. 

"There are several Audley Places in the Directory, " Field went on. "Iam sure you would not put us to the trouble of looking them all up, sir. Tell me all you know. Anything that you may say will be treated asconfidential. "

"I quite see your reasoning, " Berrington replied. "Let me tell you thatI should have said nothing--for the present, at any rate--had I notbetrayed myself. Look here, Field, I might just as well inform you thatwe are treading on very delicate ground here. As soon as I begin tospeak, Sir Charles's daughter comes into the business. "

"You mean Miss Darryll--Mrs. Richford, I should say. How, Colonel?"

"Because I am quite sure that she knows something of the matter. In thefirst place you must understand that the marriage was the reverse of alove match. Sir Charles's affairs were in anything but a prosperouscondition at the time of his death. "

"In fact he was on the point of being arrested in connection with acertain company, " Field said coolly. "I got that information from theCity Police. It was a mere piece of gossip, but I did not identify it asin any way connected with the subsequent tragedy. "

"Well, I should not be surprised to hear that it had an importantbearing on the mystery. As far as I could judge after the wedding therewas a quarrel between Mr. And Mrs. Richford----"

"Ah!" Field exclaimed. His face was shrewd and eager. "Can you tell mewhat about?"

"Indeed, I cannot. I cannot even guess. But I can't see what that has todo with it. "

"Can't you indeed, sir?" Field asked drily. "Mrs. Richford shall tell meherself, presently. But we are getting no nearer to the lame gentlemanin Audley Place. "

"Oh, yes we are. Let us admit that quarrel. I am certain of it becauseyesterday Mr. Richford had luncheon at the same table as myself. Heordered a steak and potatoes. When it came, he asked the waiter who hadbeen putting salt on his plate. Sure enough there _was_ salt on theplate _and in the shape of a bullet_. Directly Richford saw that, hiswhole aspect changed. He was like one beside himself with terror. He didnot know that I was watching him, he knew nothing beyond the horror ofthe moment. "

"You mean that shaped salt had some hidden meaning, sir?" Field asked. 

"I am certain of it. Now don't run your head up against the idea thatyou are on the track of some political society, or that Anarchism hasanything to do with it. It so happens that I have seen that salt signbefore in India under strange circumstances that we need not go into atthe present moment. The man who pointed it out to me disappeared and wasnever heard of again. The sign was in his own plate at dinner. A littlelater I was enabled to get to the bottom of the whole thing; the storyshall be told you in due course. 

"Well, I wanted to see what Mr. Richford would do next. Was the sign animperative one or not? Evidently it was, for he got up, finished hisbrandy, and left the table without having had a single mouthful of food. Under ordinary conditions I should have taken no action, but you seeMrs. Richford is a great friend of mine, and I was anxious to see howfar her husband was in with these people. To make a long story short, Ifollowed Richford's cab and traced him to No. 100, Audley Place, whichis somewhat at the back of Wandsworth Common. There I was so fortunateas to find a policeman who had been in my regiment, and he gave me allthe information he could as to the inhabitants of the house. The gist ofthat information was that the owner of the house was a lame gentlemanwho sometimes went out in a bath chair. _Now_ you do see why I cried outwhen the cabman finished his story to-day?"

Field nodded thoughtfully. He saw perfectly well. For a little time hewas silent, piecing the puzzle together. On the whole he was more thansatisfied with the morning's work. 

"I see, " he said at length. "The lame gentleman, of course, sent themessage to Mr. Richford. Within a few hours the body of Sir Charlesdisappears. Why, then, was this message sent? So that the lame man couldget posted in all his facts with a view to stealing the body. In otherwords, Mrs. Richford's husband was a party to that daring crime. Whythat body was fetched away we cannot inquire into, at present. What Iwant to know, and what I must know, is what Mrs. Richford and herhusband quarrelled about. "

Berrington winced. He had no pleasant vision of Beatrice beingcross-examined by this sharp, shrewd policeman. And yet the thing wasinevitable. Field's eyes asked a question. 

"All right, Inspector, " Berrington said, not without some irritation. "I'll go and see the lady, and let her know what you have already foundout. I suppose it is fatal to try and conceal anything. This comes of alady marrying such a sweep as that. "

Beatrice listened calmly enough to all Berrington had to say. It wasnot nice to have to tell her story over again, but she decided toconceal nothing. She had done a foolish thing, a wrong thing to save herfather, and the world was going to know the whole sordid truth. But solong as Mark stood by her, what did the opinion of the world matter?

"Ask Inspector Field in here, " she said. "No, I do not blame you, mydear old friend. Is it not far better that everything should come out? Adreadful crime has been committed and the guilty should be punished, whoever they are. "

Inspector Field came in, very sorry and very apologetic for the troublehe was causing. He was quite different from the hard man who had beencross-examining Berrington outside. 

"I fancy you can give me certain information, " he said. "I have somelittle hesitation in saying anything personal as to the character of Mr. Richford----"

"You need not hesitate, " Beatrice said bitterly, "on my account. I amgoing to speak freely, and all the more so because I see the possibilityof having to repeat it all in the witness box. I married my husband withthe sole idea of saving my father from dis----"

"Unpleasantness, " Field said swiftly. "There is no occasion for anythingof _that_ kind to come out in the witness box. For family reasons youbecame Mrs. Richford. There is no reason why your sacrifice should havebeen altogether in vain. "

"That is very good of you, " Beatrice said gratefully. "Let me say that Iam not in love with the man whose name I am supposed to bear. Hadanything happened to my father before yesterday, my marriage would neverhave taken place. My quarrel with my husband was that he knew my fatherwas dead two hours before the ceremony was fixed to take place. "

Hardened as he was, Field started. This information was unexpected as itwas dramatic. 

"I am not speaking idly, " Beatrice went on. "I came back here, directlymy father's death came to my ears. In his room I found a telegram. Itwas dated yesterday, the hour was clearly marked upon it--about teno'clock yesterday morning. That telegram was addressed to my husband; itwas found by me close to my father's body. The doctor said that SirCharles had been dead some hours before he was discovered. Therefore Ihad conclusive proof in my hands that my husband had seen my father'scorpse and that he had stolen out of the room and said nothing, knowingthat I should never be his wife if he spoke the truth. "

"It seems almost incredible, " Field muttered. "What did Mr. Richfordsay?"

"What could he do or say beyond admitting the truth of my accusation?Even his cunning failed before the production of that fateful telegram. He had to admit everything, he had to admit that the telegram belongedto him, that he had occasion to see my father very early on pressingbusiness, and that he had not raised the alarm because he knew if he didso he would lose me. At one time the suite of rooms in which we standwas rented by Mr. Richford; indeed his term has not expired yet, andthat is why my father came here. I can tell you little if any more. WhatI said to my husband does not matter in the least. I told him plainlythat I had done with him, and I hope that I may never see him again. "

Field had few questions to ask further. A hundred theories were flyingthrough his nimble brain. Beatrice seemed to divine something of this. 

"In common fairness I am bound to say that Mr. Richford could have hadnothing to do with my father's death, " she said. "In the first place hehad everything to gain by Sir Charles keeping his health. I know thedoctors are suspicious that there is foul play somewhere, but recollectthat they are prepared to swear to my father's death some hours beforehis body was found. A little before ten, Mr. Richford must have been athome or he could never have had that telegram. Therefore it was afterten before he sought out my father, who, according to the medical viewof the cause, had passed away hours before. "

"That is very cleverly and logically reasoned, " Field said, not withoutadmiration. "And in any case Mr. Richford would be able to give a reallyconvincing account of the reason why he remained silent--especiallyafter a jury had seen you in the witness box. "

It was a pretty compliment and a tribute to Field's sound judgment as tohuman nature, but Beatrice did not appear to heed his words. 

"I had better finish and tell you everything, " she said. "I have saideverything I can, in common fairness to my husband. I feel convincedthat if there was foul play he had no hand in it, no actual hand, thatis. But there is another side to the question. I have already told youall about the Countess and the General. I told you how my suspicionswere aroused, and when I came up to my room as quickly as possible--thedoor was shut and two people were talking inside. You asked me just now, Inspector Field, if I could recognize the man again--the man who was inthe room when the Countess was actually taking impressions of the sealson the door, and I said I could. Can you guess who that man was?"

The inspector looked puzzled for a moment, then the light ofillumination came over his face. He glanced up eagerly; his dark eyeswere dancing. 

"You don't mean to say that it was Mr. Richford?" he asked. 

"Indeed I do, " Beatrice said quietly, "I had intended to keep that pieceof information to myself, but you have forced my hand. Of actual crime, of actual _murder_, I am quite sure that Stephen Richford is innocent. But as to the rest I cannot say. At any rate I have concealed nothingthat is likely to injure the course of justice. "

CHAPTER XIV

Inspector Field took up his hat and gloves from the chair where he haddeposited them. He was satisfied, and more than satisfied with theinterview. In a short time he had achieved excellent results. 

"We will not trouble Mrs. Richford any more at present, " he said. "Itmay be some consolation to her to know that I agree with all herreasonings. But there is plenty of work to do. "

Field bowed himself out, followed by Berrington. The latter asked whatthe inspector was going to do. 

"In the first place I am going down to the Yard, " Field explained. "I amthen going to get rid of my correspondence and have my dinner. Afterthat till it gets dark I propose to pursue what Lord Beaconsfield calleda policy of masterly inactivity for a time. Once it is really dark, Iintend to go as far as Wandsworth Common, and learn something of thegentleman who is lame and has a private hansom painted black. You see, sir, the scene of the story is changed. The next act must be played outat Wandsworth. "

"You have some settled plan in your mind?" Berrington asked. 

"Indeed I have not, sir. I may make no more than a few simple inquiriesand come home again. On the other hand, before morning I may find myselfinside the house. I may even return with the lame gentleman as myprisoner. It is all in the air. "

"By Jove, " Berrington cried. "I should like to go with you. As an oldcampaigner, and one with some little knowledge of strategy I may beuseful. Anything is better than sitting here doing nothing. Would youvery much mind, Inspector?"

Field regarded the brown, eager, clever face and steadfast eyes of thequestioner shrewdly. 

"I shall be delighted, sir, " he said heartily, "with one proviso--thatyou regard me as your senior officer and commander in this business. Military strategy is one thing, the hunting of criminals quite adifferent thing. I shall start from the Yard before ten o'clock, andeven then I shall not make my way to Wandsworth direct. We are dealingwith an exceedingly clever lot, and it is just possible that I may bewatched. Therefore I shall disguise myself, and you had better do thesame. Then you can meet me at eleven o'clock where you like. "

"That's a bargain, " Berrington said eagerly. "I'll go over to Wandsworthpretty early and try to see my police friend, Macklin. At eleven o'clockI shall be under the trees opposite Audley Place, waiting for you. Probably I shall assume the disguise of a sailor. "

"Um, not a bad idea, " Field remarked. "We will both be sailors just paidoff from a ship and with money in our pockets. Sailors, in thatcondition who have assimilated a fair amount of liquid refreshment, dostrange things. Oh, we shall be all right. Merchant seamen let us be, from the ship _Severn_, just home from South America. Good afternoon, sir. "

[Illustration: "The police officer looked suspiciously at the figure. "_Page 107. _]

It was nearly ten before Berrington reached the rendezvous. He wasperfectly disguised as a sailor fresh from a tramp steamer, his clotheswere dirty and grimy, and the cap in his hand had a decided navalcock. So far as he could judge there were no lights visible at No. 100, opposite. He waited for Macklin to come along, which presently he did. The police officer looked suspiciously at the figure in a slumberingattitude on the seat, and passed before him. 

"Now, then, " he said sharply. "What are you doing here? Come out ofthat. "

Berrington came unsteadily to his feet and blinked into the lane oflight made by the policeman's lantern. He was rather proud of hisdisguise and the way in which it was passing scrutiny. 

"All right, Macklin, " he said in his natural voice. "It's ColonelBerrington. Not quite the same sort of disguise that I tried to passinto the Madi Halfa camp with when you were on guard that night. Stillit took you in, didn't it?"

"It did indeed, sir, " Macklin said, not without admiration. "And might Ibeg to ask what manner of game the Colonel of my old regiment is up toin London at this hour?"

"We need not go into details, Macklin, " Berrington said. "Regard me asyour senior officer for a moment, and answer my questions withoutcomment. As I told you yesterday, I am interested in that houseopposite. Have you found out anything?"

"Nothing worth speaking about, sir, " Macklin replied. "They seem to bejust respectable people who have plenty of money and very few visitors. Last night about half past eleven the old gentleman went out in a cab, and came back about half past two with a friend who had a big box on thetop of the cab. That's all I can tell you. "

"Ah, perhaps that is more important than it seems, " Berrington muttered. "Anything to-day?"

"Nothing to-day, sir. Oh, yes, there is. The parlourmaid reported to theman who is doing day duty here this week that the house would be closedtill Saturday, and that the police were to keep an eye on the place atnight. Looks as if they've gone, sir. "

Berrington swore quietly and under his breath. It seemed to him as if heand Field were going to have their trouble for their pains. No. 100 wasnot the kind of house where people are unduly economical on the score oflights, and there was not one to be seen. 

"I should like to go and have a prowl around, " Berrington said, after apause. "I suppose if I did, I shouldn't have any officious policeman toreckon with. "

"Well, sir, I'm not quite sure, " Macklin said dubiously. "Of course Iknow you to be a gentleman as wouldn't do anything in the least wrong, but there's my sergeant to consider. Still, as this is on my beat, noother officer is likely to see you. "

"Good, " Berrington exclaimed. "What time will you be back here again?"

Macklin calculated that he would reach the same spot again an hour or solater, --about eleven o'clock, to be exact. The hour tallied preciselywith the coming of Field, and in the meantime Berrington was free tomake what he could of the house opposite. 

But there was precious little to be gained in that respect. The housewas all fastened up, there were shutters to the windows on the groundfloor; the garden was tried next, but there was no litter anywhere suchas might have been caused by a hasty removal. Clearly if the house wasclosed up it was only for a day or two, as the parlourmaid had told thepoliceman. 

At the end of an hour Berrington was not a whit wiser than before. 

He crossed over the road and there on a seat under the trees was asailor like himself. Field did not assume to be asleep but was pullingat a short clay pipe. 

"Come and sit down, sir, " he said. "I've just come. As I anticipated, Iam being watched. But I managed to give my shadowers quite a wrongimpression and I passed from the house, where I keep a few stockdisguises, under their very noses. They imagine that they are followingme up West by this time. "

"I am afraid all the trouble has been wasted, " Berrington saidirritably. "The birds have flown. "

"Indeed, sir. And who did you get that valuable piece of informationfrom?"

"From my friend the policeman that I told you about. The house is shutup for a few days and the authorities have been informed of the fact. Ihave been all around the house and it is as silent as the grave. "

"Well, that might be merely a blind, after all, " Field said cheerfully. "When did they go?"

"So far as I can gather from Macklin, they departed early this morning. "

Field chuckled but said nothing. A little while later there was a thudof heavy boots on the pavement, and Macklin and his sergeant came, together. The latter was about to say something but Field produced hiscard and the effect was instantaneous. 

"No, we don't want any assistance at all, " the Scotland Yard officialsaid. "All you can do is to go about your work as if nothing was takingplace. You may notice something suspicious presently at No. 100, acrossthe road, but you are to ignore it. You understand?"

The sergeant nodded and touched his helmet; he understood perfectlywell. The two passed on together and the sham sailors crossed the road. Very quietly Field proceeded to the back of the house. It was a littledark here, and he guided himself by pressing his fingers to the walls. Presently he stopped, and a low chuckle came from his lips. 

"Discovery the first, sir, " he said. "Press your hand on the wall here. What do you notice?"

But Berrington noticed nothing beyond the fact that the wall was quitewarm. He said so, and the inspector chuckled once more. He seemed to bepleased about something. 

"That should tell you a story, sir, " he said. "That house is supposed tobe empty; nobody has been here since early this morning. If you willlook up, you will see that the blank wall terminates in a highchimney--obviously the kitchen chimney. This wall is quite hot, it isthe back of the kitchen fireplace--so obviously, if those people wentearly to-day there would be very little fire, in fact the range wouldhave been out long ago. And what do we find? A hot wall that tells of agood fire all day, a good fire at this moment, or these bricks wouldhave cooled down before now. If you listen you will hear the boilergently simmering. "

It was all exactly as Field had said. Perhaps the servants had been sentaway for a day or two, indeed, it was very probable that they had. Butthere was the big fire testifying to the fact that somebody was in thehouse at that very moment. 

"We are going to take risks, " Field whispered. "If we are discovered weshall be given into custody as two drunken sailors, given into thecustody of your friend Macklin and his sergeant, from whom we shallprobably escape. You may be very sure that we shall not be charged, forthe simple reason that the people here don't want their names oranything about them to get into the papers; in fact, the less they seeof the police the better they will be pleased. Come along. "

Field strode around to the kitchen window. The shutters were up, but notso in the larder, which had no bars, and was only protected by a squareof perforated zinc. The inspector took a tool from his pocket and withgreat care and dexterity, and without making the least noise, removedthe zinc from its place. Then a lantern flamed out. 

"Come along, " said Field, "we can easily get through here. We shall besafe in the kitchen, for we know that the maids are not in the house. "

For the present everything was absolutely plain sailing. And as Fieldhad anticipated there was nobody in the kitchen and nobody in thecorridor leading to the better part of the house. All the same, a bigfire, recently made up, was roaring in the range, showing that the placewas not quite deserted. And yet it was as silent as the grave. 

It was the same in the hall, and the same in the living-rooms, where nolights gleamed. From somewhere upstairs came a sound as if somebody wasgently filing some soft metal. The noise ceased presently to be followedby the rattle of a typewriter, or so it seemed. The two adventurersstood in the darkness of the dining-room listening; it seemed to them asif that rattle was getting closer. Field flashed a light into the room, but it was quite empty; the polished mahogany of the table reflected theflowers on it. 

Then suddenly the rattle grew louder, and Field hid his light under theslide. As suddenly as his light had faded out, the dining-room glowed ina perfect bank of shaded yellow light, as if by magic the table stoodwith a perfect meal, a dainty cold supper with glass and silver andcrystal and gold-topped bottles upon it; the whole thing seemed a mostwonderful piece of conjuring. At the same instant there was the rattleof a latch-key in the front door. Field pulled his companion into thedarkness of the drawing-room doorway. A man came in, peeled off hiscoat, and entered the dining-room. Field gasped. 

"What is the matter?" Berrington asked. "Do you know who it is?"

"Rather, " Field replied, "I should say that I do. Why! that's no otherthan the Rajah of Ahbad! Well, if this doesn't beat all!"

CHAPTER XV

Used as he was to quick scenes and dramatic changes, Berrington wassurprised for the moment. The thing was like some bewildering Easternvision. A moment ago the place had been dull and dark, and now like aflash, warmth and light were there, to say nothing of the tastefulextravagance of the supper-table. Berrington could see the fruit and theflowers, the dainty confections and the costly wines. How had the thingbeen managed?

But it was no moment to speculate about that. So far it merely tended toprove the almost diabolical cleverness of the people with whom thepolice had to deal. The Rajah himself could be seen standing moodily inthe doorway chewing a cigar between his strong, yellow teeth. Berringtonobserved him very carefully. 

As one who knew India, Berrington was in a position to judge the manfairly well. As a matter of fact, the newcomer did not look in the leastlike an Eastern potentate. True, his skin was dark, but not more sallowthan that of many a European. His hair was thick, but his eyes were darkblue, and his dress was eminently that of a man about town. With hispublic school and University education, the Rajah had passed for anEnglishman. 

"What sort of a reputation does he bear?" Berrington asked in a whisper. 

"Shady, " Field replied briefly. "What you call a renegade, I shouldsay. Has all the vices of both hemispheres, without the redeemingfeatures of either. Low-class music halls, ballet dancers, prize-fighters and the like. At the same time he's got the good sensenot to flaunt these vices before the public, and he knows how to conducthimself with dignity when there is any necessity for it. Despite hishandsome income, he is frequently in dire need of money. Still, I shouldnever have identified him with this business had I not seen him here. Ihad no idea that he even knew Sir Charles Darryll and Mr. Richford. "

The Rajah stood there biting his nails impatiently, as if waiting forsomebody. He crossed over to the table and opened a bottle of champagneto which he helped himself liberally. The fizz of the wine could bedistinctly heard in the drawing-room. 

"I'd give half my pension to know how that thing is worked, " saidBerrington. "A moment ago there was nothing on that table, and now lookat it! It would have taken the staff of a large hotel half an hour toarrange a meal like that. The flowers alone would have occupied thetime. The servants here----"

"You may bet your life that the servants know nothing about it, " Fieldsaid. "They have been sent away right enough. I feel quite sure thatthey are innocent of everything. It would never do to let domestics talkof these matters. "

The Rajah was pacing up and down the dining-room talking to himself. Amoment later there was a rattle of a latchkey and two people came in. The first was a young man with the unmistakable stamp of the actor onhim, smart, well groomed, clean shaven, the society actor of to-day. Hewas followed by an exceedingly pretty, fair-haired woman, who mighthave belonged to the same profession. Just for the moment it occurred toField that these were ordinary guests who knew nothing of the mystery ofthe house. There was nothing about either of them to connect them withcrime or mystery. 

They pitched their wraps carelessly on the hall table as if they hadbeen there before, and made their way to the dining-room. The Rajah'sface grew eager. 

"Well, my children, " he said in excellent English, "have you had anyluck? Cora, dear, tell me that you have succeeded in our littlecounterplot. "

The woman's pretty face grew hard. She pulled a chair up to the tableand sat down. 

"Give me some of that _pâté_ and open a bottle of champagne, " she said. "What with this doubling about and covering up one's tracks, I've had notime to think of food. The same remark applies to poor Reggie here. Haven't we succeeded well enough for you?"

"Well, yes, you managed the big thing all right, but that's noteverything. You managed the big thing so well that the police areutterly baffled and don't know which way to look. But the stones, _carissima_, the sparkling stones. What of them?"

The woman gave a shrug of her ivory shoulders. She could be plainly seenby the watchers lost in the darkness of the drawing-room. 

"The deplorable luck was against us, " she said. "I actually had my handsupon the stones and nearly snatched them away under the very eyes of theadorable Richford. I said to myself we are not going to do his work fornothing. He followed me to the room where the stones were and wetalked. You see I had business in the room as you know. And Reggie herewas downstairs, making himself agreeable to the fair owner of thestones, so that I had a free hand in the matter. If Reggie had not beenso indiscreet as to leave the poor child----"

"But what could I do?" the man called Reggie protested. "Never was socruel a piece of bad luck in the history of war. Who should come downbut Langford?"

"But you were so carefully disguised that Langford could not possiblyhave known you, " the woman said. 

"I admit it. I positively had forgotten the fact for the moment. Thesight of Langford was such a shock to me. On the spur of the moment Imade my excuses and departed. "

"Leaving the little girl uneasy and suspicious, " said the woman, "sothat she came up to her room where I was and walked off with the gems. Iwas very near to taking her by the throat and half strangling her. Butthere were greater issues at stake and I had to restrain my feelings. Ihad to smile and nod and play my part whilst the little lady was sendingthe jewels off to the safe custody of the hotel clerk. I could havedanced with fury, I could have wept with rage. But what was the good?"

The Rajah swore roundly and passionately. He could be seen from thedrawing-room, striding about the place and muttering as he went. 

"It is more than unfortunate, " he said. "If we could have got hold ofthose jewels we should have had a fortune in our grasp. We were quitejustified in robbing Richford, who only serves me for his own ends. Heis a bully and a coward and he must pay the price. He says that he hasno ready money, that his affairs are more desperate than we imagine. Andyet he could find the cash to buy those diamonds. "

"They always mean cash, " the woman said. "It is a good thing for thewife of a speculator to be in possession of a lot of fine diamonds. Itwould have been a precious good thing for us, too, if Reggie had notlost his nerve last night. "

"Have you any idea who those people are?" asked Berrington of hiscompanion. 

"Not personally, " Field replied, "but I have a pretty shrewd idea. It isvery good of them to come here, just as nature made them, and withoutdisguises. Surely you know what they are talking about? The discussionis over Mrs. Richford's diamonds which she nearly lost, as she told me. Unless I am greatly mistaken, we are listening to a confession of theway in which that robbery had been planned. Stripped of their veryclever disguises, these two people yonder are no other than Countess dela Moray and General Gastang. "

Berrington nodded, wondering why he had not found them out before. Fromthe dining-room came the sound of a match, as the Rajah lighted anothercigar. 

"We shall have to go back to our original scheme, " he was saying. "Therewas never anything better. We must get the other man into this. He mustbe frightened. Send him the salt. "

There was another rattle of the latchkey, and the watchers were not inthe least surprised to see Richford come in, with the air of a man whois quite at home. He was looking white and anxious and a little annoyedas he took off his coat and entered the dining-room. Unhappily he closedthe door behind him, so that no more conversation could be heard. 

"That's unlucky, " Field said in a vexed tone. "What does that saltallusion mean? You recollect telling me that Richford was frightened byfinding that salt on his plate?"

"It's a kind of Indian dodge, " Berrington proceeded to explain. "It hasto do with caste and religious observances and all that sort of thing. Don't be deceived with the idea that you are on the track of anAnarchist society or anything of that kind. "

"Is it something more or less on the line of freemasonry, then?" Fieldasked. 

"Well, yes, you can put it that way if you like, " Berrington saidthoughtfully. "I made a special study of that kind of thing in India, though I only came across the salt fetich a few times. It seemed to meto be more religious than anything else, though in one or two instancesit was attended by tragedy. There was a young native prince who was agreat friend of mine and he was about to be married to a princess whowas as bright and intelligent as himself. She had been educated likehimself in Europe, so that they were free from a deal of superstitionand prejudice. The prince was dining at my bungalow one night when Inoticed a little bullet of salt on his plate. It was useless to ask himhow it got there for one could never have elicited the truth from any ofthe native servants. My friend got dreadfully pale for a moment, but heturned it off and he thought no more about the matter. But the next daythe prince was found dead in his bed; he had shot himself with arevolver. "

"And you never got to the bottom of it?" Field asked with pardonablecuriosity. 

"Never. There are mysteries in India that puzzle us as much as they didin the good old days of John Company. What's that noise?"

There was a sound like the rumble of wheels along the hall, andpresently appeared a kind of invalid chair, self-propelled by itsoccupant, a little man with a pale face and dark eyes. He paused beforethe dining-room door and rattled the handle. 

"Evidently the master of the house, " Berrington suggested. "The lame manwho can't walk. It was he who sent the message to Richford. "

"Sure enough, " Field exclaimed. "Must have been in the abductionbusiness. Evidently the same gentleman who was waiting in the black caboutside the _Royal Palace_. Rather a nice looking man, with by no meansunpleasant face. Hope they won't shut the door upon him. "

Somebody opened the dining-room door at this moment and the lame mansteered himself in. Where he had come from was a mystery, as the househad appeared to be quite empty when Berrington and his companion enteredit. Clearly the man could not have come from the upper part of thepremises, for his physical condition disposed of that suggestion. 

"Well, my friends, " the newcomer cried gaily, "very glad to see you allsafe and sound again. So our little scheme has not been a failure. Richford, judging from the gloom on your brow, you have not had the luckyou desire. You must be content with the knowledge that virtue bringsits own reward. And yet if you only knew it you are the most fortunateof men. For your sweet sake we have undertaken difficulties and dangersthat----"

"Oh, shut up, " Richford growled. "I don't understand what you aredriving at. Anybody would think that you were no more than a silly childwho had nothing to do but to attend to your flowers and stick yourpostage stamps in your album. And yet----"

"And yet I can give my attention to more serious matters, " the cripplesaid with a sudden stern expression and in a voice that had a metallicring in it. "You are right. And if you two have eaten and drunk enoughwe will get to business. "

There was a little stir amongst the listeners, the Rajah pitching hiscigar into the grate and coming forward eagerly. Evidently something wasgoing to happen. 

CHAPTER XVI

Cool and collected as he usually was, even Field was excited now. Hecrept as near to the drawing room door as he dared, and peeped into thering of light, eagerly. He popped back hurriedly as the man calledReggie and the Rajah came into the hall and proceeded to enter a roomopposite, under the direction of the little cripple. Richford seemed tobe vague and irritated. 

"What the deuce is the good of all this mystery?" he asked. "Why don'tyou come to the point, Sartoris? But no, you must always be soinfernally close, just as if you were the only one of us who rejoices inthe possession of brains. "

"Well, so I am, " Sartoris said, without the least display of temper. "You don't delude yourself that you are a person of intellect, surely?Cunning you have of a low order, the mean, vulgar cunning that enablespeople to make money in the city. But that is not intellect, my dearfriend--intellect is quite another matter. We very nearly landedourselves in a serious mess because I did not care to trust you too far. And when we were face to face with that mess, what good were you? Whatgood was anybody besides myself? Where was the brain that schemed outeverything and made success certain? True, I had allies upon whom Icould depend--Reggie and Cora, for example. But they could have donenothing without me. And now we have the thing in our hands again. Comealong, then. "

Richford subsided, muttering to himself. From the room opposite came thesound of somebody moving a heavy package of some kind, and presently theman called Reggie and the Rajah appeared shuffling a big case betweenthem. The box scraped over the polished parquet floor, leaving deepscratches as it went; amidst a strained, breathing silence it was pushedinto the dining-room. Sartoris watched these proceedings with a curiousgleam in his eyes. 

"So far, so good, " he said. "All we want now is Bentwood. He's verylate. Go out and see if you can make anything of him, Reggie. If thatfellow has dared to get drunk to-night, I'll give him a lesson that willlast him for the rest of his life. "

The little man's voice grew harsh and grating. Evidently he was a manthat it would be dangerous to trifle with. A curious silence fell overthe little group; the whole room grew so still that Field could hear hiscompanion breathing. They were perfectly safe up to now, but if anybodyhappened to go into the drawing-room for anything, and they werediscovered, each knew that his life was not worth a minute's purchase. Very steadily Sartoris steered his chair to the side of the big case onthe floor, and his hands began to fumble with the strings. 

The front door opened with a bang that startled everybody, for nerveswere strung up to high tension and the least noise came with a startlingforce. The door burst open, only to be as quietly closed, and a big man, with a red face and small red eyes, reeled across the hall and almostcollapsed in a heap on the floor. 

"Night, " he said unsteadily, "night, all of you. You may say that I'vebeen drinking. Nothing of the kind. The man who says I've been drinkinglies. Experiment. Nothing in the world but a lot of experiments which abraver man than I would shrink from. Sartoris, if you say I am drunk, then I say that you are a liar. "

"I should be a liar if I agreed with you, " Sartoris said. "The wholeplace reeks of drink. "

"So it does, " the newcomer said with amiability. "Upon my word, youyourselves seem to be doing remarkably well while I've been working forthe good of the community. Give me a bottle of champagne, to begin with. Poor stuff, champagne, only fit for women. But then, there appears to benothing else--why----"

The big red-faced man reached his hand out and Sartoris caught him asavage blow on the knuckles. The little man's face was livid with fury, his eyes flashed like electric points. 

"Pig, beast, drunken hound, " he screamed. "Have you no sense of shame orduty? After to-night I will give you a lesson. After to-night you shallknow what it is to play with me. "

The man called Bentwood lapsed into sudden dignity. 

"Very well, " he said. "Have it your own way. When you say that I amdrunk you outrage my feelings. You don't seem to understand that youcan't get on without me. If I like to snap my fingers in your face youare powerless. But I do nothing of the kind--such is not my nature. Giveme a glass of brandy and I shall be myself again. "

Just for a moment Sartoris seemed to be fighting down the rage thatconsumed him. It was evidently a big struggle, but the mastery came. 

"Very well, " he said. "I'll do as you want. Wait a moment. "

The invalid carriage rolled rapidly across the room and down a longpassage to the back of the house. When Sartoris came back again he had aglass in his hand and a cup of black coffee balanced on the chair beforehim. Bentwood snatched eagerly at the glass and drained it at a gulp. Then he pressed his hand to his heart and staggered back. 

"My God, you have poisoned me, " he gasped. "The pain! The pain! I can'tbreathe. "

"You'll be all right in a moment, " Sartoris said. "I don't profess toyour wonderful medical knowledge, but some things I know, and one ofthem is how to treat a man in your condition. What you regard as poisonis a strong dose of sal-volatile--as strong a dose as I dare venture togive even to a powerful man like you. Now drink this coffee. "

There was a ring of command in the tone which was not to be disobeyed. As soon as Bentwood had regained his power of speech, he drank hiscoffee. After the harsh, astringent drug, the flavour was soothing andgratifying. In a marvellously short space of time the big man grew quietand a little ashamed of himself. His face was less red, he became morequiet and subdued in his manner. 

"I am truly sorry, Sartoris, " he said. "I'm afraid I was very drunk andrude just now. But I was not entirely to blame. Would any man beentirely to blame who had led a life like mine! The things that I haveseen, the things that I should like to find out! Then the madness comeson me and I must drink or destroy myself. I fought for the possession ofmyself to-day until I was a mere nervous rag of a man, if I had foughtmuch longer I should have blown my brains out. And what would you havedone then?"

The man's tone was eager, almost passionate. Sartoris bent his head downso that the expression of his face could not be seen by anyone. 

"Say no more about it, " he said. "You are quite sober now, which is theimportant part of the case. I will discuss the other matter with you ona future occasion. "

The speaker's tones were smooth enough, but his eyes gleamed like coalsof fire. He was bending again and fumbling with the straps of the greatpacking case. Field, watching everything intently, asked Berrington whathe thought of it all. 

"I hardly know what to think, " the latter whispered. "This has been anight of surprises--therefore you will be prepared to hear that I knowthe man Bentwood well. "

"You mean that you knew him in India?" Field asked. 

"Yes, years ago. He was an army surgeon, and quite the cleverest man athis profession that I ever had the privilege to meet. He might have madea large fortune in England, but he got into some trouble and had toleave the country. It was much the same in India. Bentwood had apositive genius for the occult and underground. After a time very fewwhite people cared to associate with him and he became the companion ofthe dervishes and the mullahs and all that class, whose secrets helearned. I believe he is the only European who ever went through theprocess of being buried alive. That secret was never betrayed before, and yet yonder fellow got to the bottom of it. Also he learned all thesecret poisons that they use out yonder, and we were pretty sure that hewas mixed up in the great scandal that followed the sad death of theRajah of Abgalli. You recollect that?"

Field nodded. He had a fine memory for all stories of that kind. 

"We always said that Bentwood was the actual culprit, and that heexperimented with certain poisons that produced quite new results. Somesaid that the Rajah committed suicide. Perhaps the poison administeredto him took that form. Anyway, Bentwood disappeared, and it wasgenerally understood that he met his death by falling out of a boat whenshooting sea fowl. That was the story that one of his servants broughtback, but we could never ascertain how far that fellow was in hismaster's pay. Anyway, a year later one of our men came back from hislong leave, saying that he had seen Bentwood at Monte Carlo, and that heappeared to be bursting with money. Another of ours was reported to haveseen him after that, almost in rags, in London. Anyway, he is anamazingly clever man, and perhaps one of the greatest scamps that everlived. Still, if we get any luck to-night, he will almost have shot hisbolt. "

"I think you may safely reckon upon that, " Field said drily. "It'sexceedingly lucky for me that I ran up against you in this way, Colonel. But for that accident I should have been utterly at fault. Anyway, Ishould not be here at this moment. "

There was no chance for further talk, for by this time Sartoris hadreleased the straps of the packing case and raised the lid. The othersstood around him, looking white and anxious, with the exception ofBentwood, who was smoking a cigarette quite carelessly. With animpatient gesture, Sartoris pointed to the case by his side. 

"Now, then, " he said curtly, "are you people going to keep me waitingall night? Do you think that a cripple like me can do everything? Give ahand here, you men, whilst one of the others clears the table. Pull thecloth off. "

There was a clatter of china and glass and a clink of bottles, at thesound of which Bentwood looked around with a sudden spasmodic grin onhis face. But Sartoris scowled at him furiously, and he turned hiswatery gaze in another direction. The table was clear now, and theRajah, with the help of the man called Reggie, and Richford, raised someinanimate object from the trunk. It was limp and heavy, it was swathedin sheets, like a lay figure or a mummy. As the strange thing was openedout it took the outlines of a human body, a dread object, full of thesuggestion of crime and murder and violence. Berrington breathed hard ashe watched. 

"If we only dared to do something, " he muttered. "I suppose it is easyto guess what they have there?"

"Easy enough, indeed, sir, " Field said between his teeth. "It's the bodyof Sir Charles Darryll. There is a deeper mystery here than we are asyet aware of. They are laying the body out on that table as if for someoperation. I don't know what to think; I----"

"Shut that door, " Sartoris commanded in a hard high voice. "There is adeuce of a draught coming in from somewhere. You don't want that, eh, Bentwood!"

Bentwood muttered that it was the last thing he did desire. The doorclosed with a bang, there was a long silence, broken at last by a feeblecry of pain, a cry something like that of a child who suffers under somedrug. Berrington leaped to his feet. As he would have crossed the hall afigure came along--the figure of a woman in a grey dress. It was thegrey lady that Beatrice had seen on that fateful evening, the woman whohad sat by the side of Mark Ventmore in the Paris theatre. She wrung herhands in silent grief. 

"Oh, if only there was somebody to help me, " she said. "If God wouldonly give to me and send to me a friend at this moment, I wouldpray----"

Berrington stepped out into the light of the hall. 

"Your prayer has been answered, " he said quietly. "I am here to helpyou, Mary. "

CHAPTER XVII

The grey lady stood there, with her hands pressed to her heart, hergreat pathetic eyes dilated with a curious fear. It was a long timebefore she spoke, though it was easy to see that she had penetratedBerrington's disguise. But then, he had spoken in his natural voice, which made all the difference. It seemed to him that the grey lady wouldhave fallen had he not put out his hand and supported her slender frame. 

"Wait a bit, " Berrington whispered. "Don't try to talk yet. You aresurprised to see me here, Mary. And yet it is natural enough--you mustknow that I have been seeking you for years. Why have you carefullyavoided me all this time?"

A little colour crept into the cheeks of the grey lady. Field had drawninto the background with a feeling that he was not wanted here. Yet hewas not pleased at the unexpected contretemps. The detective had mappedout a line for himself, and he desired now to bring it to a successfulconclusion. And yet the interruption might not altogether be without itsgood results. Field had, of course, already heard a great deal about thegrey lady, and he did not doubt that the pathetic figure standing therein the doorway was the same person. 

"You will not forget to be cautious, " he whispered. 

The grey lady started. She had not anticipated that anybody else wasthere. 

"Who is that?" she asked. "And how did you get here?"

"Well, we got into the house by the pantry window, " Berringtonexplained. He had himself well in hand again by this time. "I am afraidthat we must have some kind of an understanding, Mary. Would you mind, Inspector?"

Field was understood to say that he had no objection so long as it didnot lead to anything rash. He began to wish that he had half a dozen orso of his most trusted men with him. Meanwhile his hands were tied andhe could do no more than wait developments. He had naturally a keendesire to know what was going on behind the closed door of thedining-room, but on that score he would have to possess his soul inpatience for the time. He had the comfortable assurance that he couldbag his birds, one by one, later on. 

"Don't go out of earshot and don't betray yourself, sir, " he said. Berrington gave the desired assurances and he and his companion passedquietly across the hall to a morning room beyond. This was at the backof the house, with a French window that gave on to the lawn. The greylady softly undid the catch. 

"That will be an easy way out for you, if necessary, " she said. "Ifanybody comes in here you can slip out into the garden. And now, Philip, how did you find me?"

Berrington made no reply for the moment. He was looking at the palefeatures of his companion with something like a lovelight in his eyes. Looked at closely it was a beautiful face, despite its sorrow and thegrey hair that crowned it. Berrington recollected the grey lady as amerry laughing girl, who seemed not to have a single care in the world. His mind was very far away from Audley Place at that moment. 

"How long since we last met, Mary!" he said. 

The woman sighed and her eyes filled with tears. Berrington had struck atender cord. 

"Four months, four years, four centuries!" she said with a passionatecatch of her voice. "You are not angry with me, Phil? I can see you arenot angry with me. "

"My dearest, no. When I look at you I can feel no anger in my heartagainst you. My God, what you must have suffered! The same and yet sodifferent. All your colour has gone, the laughter from your eyes, thetender lines of your mouth. And yet at the outside your years cannot bemore than thirty. "

"Thirty-one, " the other said mournfully. "And yet I seem to have livedsuch a long, long life. You think that I treated you very badly, Phil?"

"My dear Mary, how could I come to any other conclusion? You wereengaged to me, we were going to be married, the very hour was fixed. Then you disappeared utterly, leaving nothing more than a note to saythat I was to forget you and not seek you. I was to think of you asbeing utterly unworthy to become a good man's wife. "

"If you had done so a great deal of trouble and anxiety would have beensaved, Phil. "

"Yes, but I declined to do anything of the kind, " Berrington saideagerly. "I knew that in some way you were sacrificing yourself forothers. And when I found that your brother had gone, I felt absolutelycertain of it. "

"Did you discover anything about him?" the grey lady asked anxiously. 

"Dear Mary, there was nothing fresh to discover. Your love for Carl madeyou blind to his faults. Did we not all know what he was! Every man inIndia who knew him could have told you. It is a painful thing to say, but he was an utter blackguard. But for influence, he had been expelledthe Civil Service long before he chose to vanish. It used to madden meto see the way in which he traded upon your affection for him. Oh, hewas a bad man. "

The red blood flamed into the cheeks of the listener. Berrington couldsee her hands clasped together. 

"You are wrong, " she said, "oh, I am sure you are wrong. Carl was alittle selfish, perhaps, but then he was so brilliantly clever, so muchsought after. And when he fell in love with--with the right woman, I wasentirely happy. He was passionately in love, Philip. "

Berrington gave a dissenting gesture. There was a bitter smile on hislips. 

"Carl never cared for anyone but himself, " he said. "It was a physicalimpossibility. "

"Indeed you do him wrong, Phil. He was very much in earnest with SirCharles Darryll's ward who came out with her brother and his wife toSimla. All was going brilliantly when a rival came on the scene. Youwere not in Simla at the time, and I daresay if you had been you wouldnever have heard anything about that unhappy business. Whether the rivalused his power unscrupulously or not I never knew, but there was aquarrel one day, out riding. Even Carl refused to speak of it. But hisrival was never seen again, and from that day to this Carl has been aphysical wreck. He----"

"You don't mean to say, " Berrington burst out, "you don't mean to sayyour brother is the Carl Sartoris who is master of this house?"

The woman hesitated, stammered, her face had grown very pale. 

"You seem to know more than I imagined, " she said. "Perhaps I shallunderstand better when I know what brings you here. But Carl Sartoris ismy brother. "

"So he has gone back to his mother's maiden name! Does an honest manwant to do anything of that kind? But for the expression of your face, which is sweet and fair as ever, I should say that you were in thisbusiness. But I have only to glance at you to feel assured on thatpoint. You say that your brother is more sinned against than sinning. Can you look me in the face and say that he has no past behind him, thathe is not making a mystery now?"

The girl's face grew pale and she cast down her eyes. Berrington keptdown his rising passion. 

"You cannot answer me, " he went on. "You find it impossible to do so. You are running great risks for a worthless creature who is as crookedin mind as he is in body. "

"Oh, don't, " Mary Sartoris said. "Don't say such terrible things, please; they hurt me. "

"My dear girl, I am sorry, but it is best to state these things plainly. You may not know everything, but you can guess a great deal. Otherwise, why did you try and see Sir Charles Darryll the night before his death, why did you write him the note that was found in his bedroom? Andagain, why did you stay in the hotel that night and try to warn theservants on night duty? You see, Mary, it is quite useless to try tokeep the secret from me. "

Mary Sartoris looked at the speaker with dilated eyes. For a moment shecould not speak. And yet there were no signs of guilty terror on herface. 

"I did not imagine that you knew so much, " she said. 

"I know more, but I would far rather know a great deal more, " Berringtonadmitted. "Mind you, matters are out of my hands and the police are hoton the track. Why do you not confess everything and save yourself, Mary?For instance, you stand a chance of being placed in the dock on a chargeof being concerned in the disappearance of Sir Charles Darryll's body. "

"I am as innocent of that as the grave, Phil. I only did my best to tryto prevent----"

"Oh, I know, I know, " Berrington said impatiently. "But the fact remainsthat the body of Sir Charles Darryll was stolen for some vile purpose, and that the culprits are in grave danger. Your brother is at the bottomof this affair; he it was who drove up to the _Royal Palace Hotel_ inthat black hansom that took the body away. And yet you say that thatman----"

"Is more sinned against than sinning, " Mary Sartoris cried. "I say itstill. Of course you regard me as blind and foolish, but then you do notknow everything. "

"It is not a matter of what I know, " Berrington protested. "Of course Ishould believe every word that you tell me. But the police will takeanother view of the matter altogether. Do you know what is going onbehind that closed door yonder?"

The girl shuddered and hid her face in her hands. She seemed afraid tosay anything. Berrington asked the question twice before he could getany reply. 

"Indeed I don't, " she said. "I am not altogether in my brother'sconfidence. I ventured to say something to him to-day and he wasdreadfully angry. He locked me in my bedroom, but I managed to get thedoor of the dressing-room open and escaped that way. I was going tointerfere when I saw you. There seem to be other people there. "

"Oh, there are, " Berrington said bitterly. "There are two adventurers, called Reggie and Cora, who very recently passed at the _Royal PalaceHotel_ for General Gastang and Countess de la Moray. There is thescoundrel Stephen Richford who tricked Beatrice Darryll into marryinghim, and then there is also a ruffian called Dr. James Bentwood. Whatwas that?"

"It seemed to me like a cry of pain, " Mary Sartoris said in a frozenwhisper. 

It was very like a cry of pain indeed, a fluttering, feeble cry endingin a moaning protest. Acting on the impulse of the moment, andforgetting Inspector Field altogether, Berrington crossed the hall andlaid his hand on the knob of the door. Mary Sartoris darted after him, her face white with fear, and terror and anxiety in her accent. 

"Don't do it, " she said, "pray restrain yourself. There are mysterieshere, strange, horrible mysteries that come from the East, of which youknow nothing, despite the years you have passed in India. Oh, the dangerthat lies there!"

In spite of his courage, Berrington hesitated. He might have recoveredhis self-possession and returned to the drawing-room, only the strangefeeble cry of pain was raised again. It was more than flesh and bloodcould stand, and in a sudden passion Berrington opened the door. Hewould have entered resolutely, but Mary pulled him back. 

"The mischief has been done, " she said hurriedly. "If anyone has tosuffer let it be me. I have brought you to this pass and I must get youout as best I can. Carl, what is this?"

The girl thrust herself past Berrington who stood in the shade of thedoorway. There was a sudden snarling, with a cry from the girl, as ablow tingled on her cheek. Somebody laughed as if approving thiscowardly business. 

With a cry of rage Berrington darted into the room. Instantly a pair ofstrong hands were laid on him and he was borne backwards. Just for amoment he lashed out freely and successfully and then the weight ofnumbers was too much for him. The dining-room door was closed again. 

CHAPTER XVIII

Inspector Field swore a good round oath under his breath. He had notlooked for an insane folly like this from a well-trained officer whomight have been expected to keep his feelings in check. But, as Fieldsadly reflected, it was useless to anticipate anything rational when awoman came into the case. 

Everything had been going beautifully and smoothly a few minutes ago, and now the plot was ruined. Field was anything but a timid man, he hadbeen in too many tight places in his life to know the meaning of theword timidity, but then he had to exercise a certain discretion. 

At the same time he was not blind to the fact that his military ally wasin considerable danger. The only thing now would be to bluff the wholething through, to pretend that the game was up and that the house wassurrounded with police. 

With this intention in his mind, Field crossed the hall and tried thedining-room door. He was not altogether surprised to find the doorlocked. He listened at the keyhole, but he could not hear anythingwhatever. Furthermore, the application of an eye to the keyholedisclosed the fact that the room was in darkness. Despite his courage athrill ran down the spine of the inspector. There was some more thanusually devilish work going on here. 

"Well, it can't be helped, " Field muttered. "It's the fortune of war. One of us has come to grief, and if I stay here I may share the samefate, and I the only one left who knows anything of the secrets of theprison house. I'll run over and get assistance and we'll search thehouse. After all, my friend the Colonel has only himself to blame. "

Without waiting for anything further, Field slipped out by the way hehad come. Once in the road, he glanced back at the house, but the wholeplace seemed to be in pitchy darkness. There was nothing for it now butto make his way to the nearest police station, and get all theassistance possible. There was no trouble at the station across theCommon, the mere mention of Field's name being sufficient. A few minuteslater half a dozen constables in silent shoes were on their way to thescene of action. There was to be no fuss and bother; they decided toenter quietly and unostentatiously by the larder window, which was donewithout any noise whatever. 

Once the exits were guarded, there was no necessity for furtherconcealment. But though the lights were turned up all over the house andthe most careful search made, not a sign of human life could be seen. Everybody had vanished, as if the whole thing had been a dream. Field, standing in the hall and biting his nails, was fain to admit that he wasbeaten. 

How on earth had those people managed to efface themselves in thatamazing manner? They had all apparently vanished off the face of theearth. And there was that bulky package too, that Field believedcontained the body of Sir Charles. It was long past midnight beforeField left the house, having taken precautions not to disturb anything, but even those precautions might have been in vain. For all he knew tothe contrary, the place might be watched by its late occupants who werelaughing in their sleeves. 

"No use staying here any longer, Macklin, " he said disgustedly. "I shallhave to go back on my tracks once more. Never do I take an amateur intomy business plans again. But it looks as if he has paid for hisindiscretion. Good night. "

It was late into the following afternoon before Field saw BeatriceDarryll again. When he did so, he had nothing to report save failure. Beatrice listened with the greatest interest to what had taken place thenight before, but her interest gave place to grave anxiety when sheheard what had been the result of Colonel Berrington's daring action. 

"Do you suppose that he is in real danger?" Beatrice asked. 

"Well, I'm afraid he is, " Field admitted. "You see we are dealing withthe most daring and clever and unscrupulous gang of scoundrels that Iever encountered. They would not stick at murder or anything else ifanybody crossed them. Mind you, it was a most foolish thing for theColonel to do. Still, he is a soldier and a very resourceful man and hemay pull through. Again these people may not have designs on his life;it is just possible that they might keep him a prisoner until theirplans had been successfully carried out. Of course when the Colonel wastalking to the grey lady to-night I was not supposed to listen. But Ihave very good ears, and they spoke loudly at times. I gathered that thescoundrel Sartoris was once engaged to a young lady who threw him over. Now it occurred to me that the young lady might give me an idea or two, provided that she is in England at the present moment. "

"Why should you think that she is not here?" Beatrice asked. 

"Because the engagement took place at Simla. This young lady was stayingwith her brother and his wife; unfortunately I did not catch the name. The curious part of the affair is that she is a ward of your latefather. "

Beatrice looked puzzled for a moment. She did not quite understand. 

"You mean that my father was guardian under a will or something of thatkind?" she asked. 

"That's it, miss, " Field exclaimed. "We ought to be able to identify theyoung lady between us, especially as the affair only took place threeyears ago or so, as I understand. If you will pardon me for saying so, Sir Charles was a very careless gentleman, and hardly the man that acareful parent would choose as a guardian. The young lady's father musthave known yours very intimately indeed, or very little, it does notmatter which. Still, I don't suppose that Sir Charles had many of theseaffairs on hand. Now, see if you can recollect anything of the kindhappening during the last three or four years, Miss Darryll. "

Beatrice thought the matter over carefully for a moment. Her facelighted up presently. 

"I fancy that I have it, " she said. "Lord Edward Decié, who was a greatfriend of my father, died about three years ago. The two men did a lotof speculating together, and indeed Lord Edward passed for a shrewd andsuccessful man. When he died I know my father was executor under thewill and that he had some control over the Hon. Violet Decié. I neversaw the girl, because she went to India with a married brother, and, for all I know she is there still. I understood that she was rather animpulsive kind of girl who did wild things on the spur of the moment. But you can easily inquire. "

Field's face expressed a guarded satisfaction. So far he was not verymuch out. 

"That is the young lady, miss, " he cried. "I'll put the inquiries onfoot at once. And I don't think that I need detain you any longer. "

"One minute, " Beatrice said. "What about Colonel Berrington? What stepshave you taken to find him? Are you going to have that house atWandsworth watched?"

Field intimated that he was, though in his opinion it was time wasted. 

"They will expect something of the kind, you see, " he said. "Of courseit is a help to me that my presence in the house was not suspected. Theymay conclude that Berrington was alone in the business, and on the otherhand they may not conclude anything of the kind. But, all the same, I amgoing to have the house carefully watched. "

Before the day was out the disappearance of Sir Charles's body wasobscured by the strange absence of Colonel Berrington. Field would havekept this latter fact concealed as far as possible, but thenBerrington's landlady had been his old nurse, and she was not rationalin the matter at all. The authorities had promised to do all they could, though the press accused them of being exceedingly lax in the business. As a matter of fact, Field had given his chiefs an inkling of thesituation, so that they were really doing their best all the time. Acarefully planned watch on the Wandsworth Common house had come tonothing, but the people there had not yet returned; indeed very littlecould have been done if they had. 

And Field was turning in another direction. He had to trace the younglady who at one time had been engaged to Carl Sartoris, and he had foundit a more difficult business than he had anticipated. It was a delicatebusiness, too, calling for tactful manipulation. A somewhat talkativeaunt of the young lady was found at length. She took Field for a lawyerwho was seeking the Honorable Violet for her own advantage. 

"Oh, yes. She has been back from India a long time, " Lady Parkstonesaid. "Violet is a very strange and clever girl. Yes, she has beenengaged more than once. But the engagements are always broken off. Violet was always in love with herself. But very clever, as I saidbefore. At one time she bade fair to become quite a famous artist, andshe has had stories in the magazines. Her last fad was the stage andthat has lasted quite a long time. In fact she is on the stage now. "

"In London, my lady?" Field asked. "She is not acting under her ownname, of course?"

"No, " Lady Parkstone explained. "She is Miss Adela Vane; at present sheis playing at the Comedy Opera House. It is just possible that you knowthe name. "

Field knew the name very well. He departed presently well satisfied withthe progress that he had made. It was getting quite late by the time hehad found out where Miss Vane lodged, but he had time to go back toScotland Yard again. There, a note from the superintendent of theWandsworth Police was awaiting him, asking him to go down as soon aspossible. The note was vague but it suggested possibilities. 

The Wandsworth authorities had not much to say, but they had one detail. Last night one of the men who was told to watch No. 100 had seensomething. The windows were all shuttered from top to bottom, eachshutter having a little ventilator in it. Field nodded, for he hadnoticed this himself. 

"Very well, then, " the superintendent went on. "So far as we know thehouse is empty. But is it? If so why should a light have been seen lastnight, behind the little round ventilator? The light came and went, andin a great flashing, dazzling kind of way for half an hour, and thenstopped. It was as if a child was playing with the switch of theelectric light. "

Field nodded and smiled. He looked exceedingly pleased with himself. 

"Guess I understand, " he said. "Especially as we are seeking for amilitary gentleman. We'll go as far as Audley Place at once, andinvestigate. Only we shall have to call at the Post Office and borrow aclerk out of the telegraph department. Come along. "

Field volunteered no explanation, and his puzzled colleague followed himout of the office. The telegraph operator and the others stood oppositethe house in Audley Place till the patience of all was pretty wellexhausted. Then suddenly the light began to flicker in the upper part ofthe house. 

"Isn't that a message of some kind?" Field asked of the telegraph clerk. 

"Right, " the other said promptly. "That's a kind of telegraph dash anddot system. Whistle a bar from 'when we are married. ' Thank you, sir. That's what the gentleman who is sending out those flash signals isasking somebody to do who happens to understand. That last lot offlashes means 'Thank the Lord!' Now he's getting to business. He wantsto know who we are before he goes on. "

"Can't you give it back again in any way?" Field asked. "Say it's me. "

Very loudly the telegraphic operator tapped the pavement with his stick. It sounded quite meaningless, but the light in the house flared up anddown in a triumphant kind of way. The flickering began once more andthen stopped. 

"It's Colonel Berrington, " the clerk said presently. "He says you arenot to bother about him in the least, as he is quite safe, and so longas he is in there the men are not likely to do anything rash. And herecomes the gist of the message. You are to go to Edward Street in theBorough and keep an eye on one of the houses there, --the Colonel doesn'tknow which. And you are to go at once, he says. "

CHAPTER XIX

Something had been accomplished, at any rate. It was good to know thatBerrington was safe and as satisfied with his surroundings as it waspossible to be under the circumstances. Though he was a prisoner, heseemed to have been able to obtain important information which he hadmanaged to convey to the outside world without alarming his captors. 

"It's not so bad altogether, " Field said. "Though I am by no meanspleased with the gallant Colonel, who has only himself to blame for theposition in which he finds himself. You can all go back to the station, and I shall not want the telegraph gentleman, whose services have beenso valuable. Of course, you will say nothing of what you have seen, sir. "

The little telegraph clerk gave the desired assurance and went his way. But Field did not turn his steps in the direction of London all at once. For a long time he stood looking thoughtfully at the house in AudleyPlace. He was just about to turn away finally when the light began toflash and flicker again. It went on a little time and finally ceased. 

"Now, has he forgotten something?" Field asked himself. "I wonder if itis possible----"

Field crept quietly towards the house, across the lawn, and made his wayto the back by which he had entered the place on a previous occasion. Ashe expected, the glass removed by him had not been replaced, so that hewas free to enter if he pleased. It was a very risky proceeding underthe circumstances, but Field decided to try it. He would be much bettersatisfied to gain speech with Berrington, though the latter's escapemight have alarmed the criminals and sent them to cover again. 

Field was inside the house again before he had made up his mind what todo. The place was very quiet, and it was evident that the servants hadnot returned. Perhaps there was nobody there besides Berrington, who wasa prisoner in one of the upper rooms. That being the case it was by nomeans impossible to gain speech with him. Very carefully Field creptalong the passages, listening with all his ears. 

He had not gone far before he heard a sound as of somebody moving. Thatsomebody was coming in his direction was certain. Field began to blamehimself for his folly. If he fell into a trap now, everything would beruined. He turned down a side passage, without the remotest idea wherehe was going, and came at length to a lighted room, at the end of whichwas a conservatory full of flowers. The conservatory was open to theroom, so that the whole place was a veritable bower of blooms. On oneside was a large bank of azaleas, behind which Field proceeded to hidehimself. He had hardly done this when there was a kind of creakingsound, the door was pushed open, and Carl Sartoris entered in his chair. With great difficulty the cripple proceeded to crawl into a bigarm-chair, after which he took from his pocket a wig and a pair ofspectacles. He seemed to be expecting somebody. He gave a little cough, and immediately somebody in the hall began to talk. 

"Mr. Sartoris is in the conservatory room, miss, " a voice said, andField had no difficulty in recognising the voice of the doctor, Bentwood. "Will you come this way, please?"

Field congratulated himself upon the line that he had taken. From behindthe bank of flowers he could see pretty well himself, without beingdiscovered. A pretty girl, with wonderfully beautiful fair hair and darkvivacious eyes, came into the room. She was not in the least timid;there was an air of eager expectation about her. 

"This is very good of you, " she said. "I understand that you sent forme. If you are not in a proper state of health to talk to me I can callagain, Mr. Sartoris. "

Just for the moment Sartoris made no reply. It seemed to Field that hewas not altogether free from physical pain. He shaded his spectacledeyes with a trembling hand, as if the light proved a little too strongfor him. 

"It is not in the least inconvenient, " he said. "I sent for you at thissomewhat late hour because I may have to leave England to-morrow. If Ido so it will be for some considerable time. "

In his mind, Field differed. He had other views for the speaker. He waspuzzled, too, at all these quick changes, and because there were so manythreads in the plot. 

"I can give you an hour, " the girl said. "I _must_ be in London by teno'clock. "

"Very well, I dare say we can manage it by that time. As I told you inmy letter, I am a very old friend of your father. We were in one or twoventures together, and some of them turned out to be very successfulindeed. Did he ever mention my name?"

"I cannot call it to mind, " the girl said. "And yet it is not a commonname. "

"It is not in the least common, " Sartoris smiled. "Perhaps your fatherdid not speak of me because we were not quite friends towards the last. At one time I was to be your guardian if anything happened to yourfather. But we need not go into that, because it is not material to thecase at all. " The girl nodded brightly, and her eyes expressedadmiration of the beauty of the surroundings. 

"I believe my guardian was Sir Charles Darryll, " she said. 

"So I understand, " Sartoris proceeded in the same grave way. "It was amost extraordinary selection for a man with a keen business head likeyour father. "

"But you are greatly mistaken, " the girl exclaimed. "My father was aperfect child in business matters. Even I was capable of advising himfor his good. I should say that there never lived a man who was soeasily befooled as my father. "

"Is that so?" Sartoris blurted out. "I'm--I mean, of course, yes, as tomere money, but he was clever enough in some ways. Still, the factremains that he made Sir Charles Darryll your guardian. Did you evertrouble him at all?"

"I never so much as saw him, at least in a business sense. "

"Ah, " Sartoris cried. There was a deep ring in his voice. "Is thatreally a fact? You don't know then that certain papers and documentsbelonging to your father passed to Sir Charles? Your father told younothing of this?"

"Not a word, except in a joking way. He spoke of securities andmortgages and the like that were to be my fortune when he died. He toldme to ask Sir Charles about them. "

"Did you take the trouble to do so?"

The girl thought a moment before she replied. 

"Once, " she said. "Once I did say something to Sir Charles. He told methat every paper in his possession had been deposited with his lawyers. "

Once more Sartoris shaded his eyes with his hand. Field could see hisfingers shaking. In a hard voice Sartoris asked if the girl meant thefamily solicitor. 

"No, I don't, " she said without the slightest hesitation. "As a matterof fact the family solicitor would have nothing to do with SirCharles--he found him too expensive. It was some little man in one ofthe Inns, Gray's Inn or Clement's Inn, who kept his creditors at bay. But more than that I am afraid I cannot tell you. "

Sartoris muttered something that might have been the strangling of anoath. Field began to understand. Papers, and probably valuable papers, belonging to Sir Charles were necessary; and the gang of thieves was ata loss what to do without them. 

"I dare say I can find out, " Sartoris said. "If I do, I fancy you willbenefit considerably. More than that I dare not venture for the present, my dear young lady, because so frequently these things turn out verydifferently. If you could think of the name of that solicitor----"

"Perhaps I might, " the girl said. "I have a good memory, especially fortrifles. If I do recollect the name I will write you here. Do you knowyou remind me of a man I knew in India. He was much younger than you, ofcourse, and different in many ways. And yet every time I look at you andhear your voice I think of him. "

"As a matter of fact I never was in India at all, " Sartoris saidhastily. There was a nasty ring in his voice that caused the girl tolook up, whereon Sartoris laughed, seeing that he had made a mistake. "Excuse me, but this neuralgia of mine is very troublesome to-night. AndI am afraid that I am detaining you. "

The girl muttered something soothing and sympathetic; at the same timeshe rose and crossed to the bell. But Sartoris merely reached out a handand asked her to help him into his chair. He sank back into the wheeledcontrivance at length with a sigh that might have been pain. 

"I'll go as far as the door with you, " he said. "No, I can move myselfalong. And I hope that you will come here again; I'll let you know whenit is quite convenient. Don't forget that I may be the indirect means ofbringing you a fortune. I am a very old gentleman, my dear; won't yougive me a kiss? Are you very much offended?"

The girl laughed and blushed as she bent down and touched Sartoris'scheek with her lips. A moment later they were gone, and Field hademerged from his hiding-place. He had discovered all that he required, for the present, and he decided not to take any further risks. Theconfused pieces of the puzzle were beginning to fit together in hismind, but they were by no means complete yet. Without further adventurethe inspector crept back to the pantry and found himself at length inthe road. He looked at the upstairs window whence the flickering signalshad come, but it was all dark and still now, though it was not as yetlate. 

"So far, so good, " Field muttered to himself. "It strikes me that thatyoung lady is likely to be of service to me. I'll find out who she isand whence she comes. And now to go off to the Comedy and see if I canget in touch with the little actress who must play her part in moredramas than one. I wonder if I had better see her at the theatre orfollow her to her rooms. I'll be guided by circumstances. "

It was not more than half-past ten when Field reached the theatre. Itwas a popular house for the moment, where the management was running akind of triple bill, consisting of one-act musical comedies, each ofwhich contained the particular star artist. Two of the shows werealready over, and the curtain was about to rise on the third, when Fieldreached the stage door. The inquiry for Miss Adela Vane was met by asurly request to know what was wanted. If the inquirer thought that hewas going into the theatre he was jolly well mistaken. 

"So you just be off, or I'll call the police, " the crusty doorkeepersaid. "One way or another, I'm pestered out of my life by you chaps. Oh, you can leave a message or a bouquet or something of that kind, but it'slong odds it's shoved into the dusthole. "

Field smiled as he produced his card and handed it over. The effect ofthe little square of shining pasteboard was marked and instantaneous. The man behind the bar was at once cringing and ready to do anything. 

"I'm sure I beg your pardon, sir, " he said, "but we are pestered out ofour lives from morning till night. I dare say I can get you a few wordswith Miss Vane, who does not come on the stage till the third piece. Andfrom the bottom of my heart, I hope that there is nothing wrong, for anicer young lady than Miss Vane----"

"There is nothing wrong at all, " Field hastened to say. "On the wholeI've changed my mind. Don't say a word to Miss Vane about me, it mayalarm her. Give me a programme; I'll just slip into the house and seeMiss Vane from the stalls. Thank you. "

Field made his way round to the front of the house, and presenting hiscard at the box office, desired to have a seat for half an hour or so. 

CHAPTER XX

The immaculately dressed young man in the office turned Field's cardover doubtfully. He had every desire to oblige, he said, but really thehouse was packed to its utmost capacity. Also the well-dressed young manhoped that there would be nothing to disturb the harmony of theproceedings. 

"You may make your mind quite easy on that score, " said Field with areassuring smile. "There will be no disturbance as far as I amconcerned. I want to identify somebody whom I believe is in the house, and when that is done my work is finished. Never mind about a seat--letme stand by the side of the stalls so that I can pass for an official. "

There was no difficulty whatever about this, and therefore Field steppedinto the house as the curtain was going up on the last of the brillianttrifles of the evening. The house was packed to its utmost capacity withan audience that seemed decidedly to appreciate the bill of fare thathad been prepared for their delectation. 

Field glanced round the house with his usual blank way that neverthelesstook in everything. Most of the people in the stalls were known by sightto him. In an upper box on the prompt side he saw the dark face andeager eyes of the Rajah of Ahbad. He seemed to be looking for somebody, for his glasses were constantly in use. There was a restless air, too, about the Rajah, that showed that he was not altogether at his ease. 

"We live and learn, " Field told himself. "I wonder what yonder wilyoriental would think if he knew all that I have discovered lately. Isuppose one of his favourite ballet girls is in the piece. Pretty piece, too, and pretty music. "

Field laid himself out for enjoyment for the next quarter of an hour. The heroine of the piece in the form of Miss Adela Vane was late inappearing. The thing was dragging, too, or so it seemed to Field. All atonce there were voices at the back of the stage as if somebody wasquarrelling. Suddenly the bright tuneful chorus broke off altogether anda female voice screamed. A little puff of smoke came from the stage. 

In the twinkling of an eye the whole house rose and shuddered. There wasa sharp crack-crackle, followed by smoke, and forked tongues of flamelicked the imitation forest, and with a swish all the chorus fled fromthe stage. Far away up in the gallery somebody was roaring "Fire!" Arush to the doors was already taking place. 

From the stalls rose a tall man with a military air, who commandedeverybody to wait. There was no danger, he cried, if the audience onlykept their heads. On the stage a manager, with a white face and aperspiring forehead, announced the fact that the appliances for dealingwith the fire were of the finest possible description, and that therewas no danger at all. 

But it was all too late. The panic had already gripped the audience, anda yelling, frightened crowd pressed to the exits. The smoke was gettingthicker and blacker; the flames were making the place unpleasantlywarm. Field could feel the heat on his face. He had been close to thestalls exit, and might have slipped away at once, but he had held hisground. It was he who stood with his back to the door now. 

"I'll knock down the first man who tries to pass me, " he cried. "Thereis plenty of time. For God's sake, control yourselves. Come quietly. Don't you know that the whole theatre can be emptied in three minutes ifpeople will only go quietly? Now come along and don't press. " The stern, hard tones were not without their effect. Field looked so calm andcollected and confident himself, that the feeling spread quickly allover the stalls. The fireproof curtain had not been dropped for thesimple reason that it would not work, as is often the case withappliances of the kind. The stage was burning furiously. 

But in the pit and dress circles and in the higher parts of the houseother cool and collected men had risen to the occasion. Women werecrying and sobbing, and more than one had fainted, but the mad panic wasover, and something like order had been restored. The stalls were movingquietly along now, and it was marvellous to see how quickly the placewas being deserted. In the vestibule a long queue of police had gatheredand stood to prevent people huddling together. In less time than ittakes to tell, everybody was outside. Like magic an engine had appeared, and men in helmets were jumping nimbly over the stalls laying their hosedown. As Field turned to go a little cry from the stage attracted hisattention. 

A girl stood there, dressed as a Watteau shepherdess. She seemedabsolutely dazed and frightened, a pretty and pathetic little figure inher great golden wig. 

"Go back, " Field yelled. "You'll have that blazing scenery on top ofyou. Why don't you go back to the stage door?"

The actress turned at last and shook her head. Tears were rolling downher face. 

"I can't, " she said. "The fire is too great. I was in my dressing-room, and I did not know. Oh, why doesn't somebody save me?"

It was quite clear that the little girl was too dazed and frightened todo anything. Without any further loss of time Field jumped into theorchestra and scrambled onto the stage. The hot flames drove him backfor the moment; he could see already that the wig of the pretty littleshepherdess was being scorched by the hot fiery breath. He lifted thegirl in his arms and made a bold leap over the orchestra into thestalls. Then he carried her out into the street and called for a cab. The air of the night was not without effect on the frightened actress. 

"Where shall I tell the man to drive?" Field asked. 

"I shall remember presently, " the girl said. "I am altogether dazed andstupid for the moment. I can see nothing but fire and smoke. Let methink. Oh, yes, it is coming back to me. Yes, Mrs. Marsh, 124, CopelandAvenue, Regent's Park. Oh, it is very good and kind of you. Will you letme tender my thanks when I am better?"

"I have done nothing, " Field said modestly. A sudden idea occurred tohim, accustomed as he was to think matters out quickly and in all kindsof startling surroundings. "If I may, I will call upon you to-morrowmorning. Good-night. "

The cab was whirled away, and Field went thoughtfully down the Strand. It seemed to him that he had seen the pretty little actress before, butthen such queer sensations are frequent in times of danger andexcitement, Field reflected. At the same time he could not quite ridhimself of the idea that he had seen the girl before. He pondered overthe matter until another idea filled his mind. 

"By Jove, " he exclaimed, "I had quite forgotten the Colonel's message. Iwas to go to Edward Street near the Borough and wait to see what Ishould see. I'll just go and hang about there for half an hour or so onthe off chance, though I am as tired as a dog already. It seems to methat I can't do better than take a cab. "

A cab accordingly whirled Inspector Field to the upper end of EdwardStreet, which is by no means a bad type of street for the Borough. Thehouses are of a respectable class for the most part, the class of housesthat let lodgings to medical students and the like. It is not the sortof thoroughfare that is generally given over to adventures, and Fieldloitered about there for a long time before his search was rewarded. 

He was chatting to a policeman on the beat, seeing that he could notloaf there without arousing the suspicions of the intelligent officer onduty, without disclosing his identity, when a couple passed him. The manwore a long fawn overcoat and a silk hat; he was a well-dressed man, asField could see by his smartly cut trousers and patent leather boots. Hewas not alone, for he had a lady with him, a lady with a handsome wrap. There was a genuine West End air about these people that did not tallyat all with Edward Street, as Field did not fail to notice. People ofthat stamp generally had a cab when there was any outing to be done atthat time of night. 

"Pull those people up and ask them some question, " Field whispered tothe officer. "I want to get a good look at their faces. "

The matter was managed quite easily, though the man in the fawn coat wasshort and inclined to be curt in his replies. But it sufficed for Field, who expressed no astonishment as he recognized the features of the mancalled "Reggie, " and the woman called "Cora, " whom he had seen the nightbefore at No. 100, Audley Place. In other words, he was once more hotupon the scent of Countess de la Moray and General Gastang. 

"Very good, indeed, Watson, " he said. "That's a bit of luck I hardlyexpected. I'll just follow these people and make certain. Good night. "

Field had not far to go, seeing that the man in the fawn coat produced alatchkey and let himself into a house a little farther down the road. The house was an ordinary looking one enough, with plain green venetianblinds and muslin curtains below. In the drawing-room window there was acard to the effect that lodgings were to be let there. It was prettylate still, but a light in the basement testified to the fact that thehousekeeper, or landlady, or whoever she was, had not yet gone to bed. 

"It's late, but I'll try it, " Field said to himself. "So here goes. "

The inspector walked up the steps and rang the bell. After a little timea tall slatternly woman came to the door and looked sleepily out. Sheseemed by no means pleased to be disturbed, and the way she wiped hermouth with the back of her hand suggested the fact that she had beentaking some of a pleasing and not altogether unintoxicating fluid withher supper. 

"And what may you want at this time of night?" she asked suspiciously. 

"Lodgings, " Field said promptly. "I've just come to London, and I findthe hotels so expensive. I'm prepared to pay an advance--a matter offive and twenty shillings a week or a little more, as it's only for soshort a time. You see I am at the hospital. "

"Well, if you are at the hospital you'd better stay there, " the womansaid with a laugh. "We don't let lodgings at this time of night, andbesides, I settled with a party to-day. I'm not going to stand gossipinghere all night. Be off with you. "

The door closed, but not before Field had got a glimpse of the inside. The house was most beautifully furnished, as he could see. There was anatmosphere of hothouse flowers and fruit, and the like; a suggestion ofexquisite cigars. A man in evening dress, with a diamond flashing in hisshirt, crossed the hall; somebody was laughing in a well-bred voice. Allof this Field did not omit to note as the door closed on him. 

"That card about lodgings is a blind, " he said. "That place must bewatched. I'll get to bed, for I'm dead tired. In the morning I'll go andsee my actress friend. Probably she can tell me all about Miss AdelaVane. "

It was a little after eleven the next day before Field found time tovisit the little actress. He had stupidly forgotten to ask her name, buthe seemed to be expected. He waited for some time in a small prettilyfurnished room till the lady of the last night's adventure came down. She arrived presently, bright and pretty and smiling, her handoutstretched--words of gratitude on her lips. 

"But I shall never be able to thank you properly, " she said. "The publiccame very near last night to losing their dear, dear Adela Vane. "

"You are Adela Vane?" Field gasped. "Really you are Adela Vane?"

For Adela Vane was the girl who had been closeted the night before withCarl Sartoris!

CHAPTER XXI

To go back for a space to Berrington. Heedless of his promise, he hadburst headlong into the dining-room whence the cry came. He hadforgotten altogether about Field. The fact half crossed his mind thatnobody knew of the presence of the inspector in the house, so thatanyway the latter's personal safety was not jeopardized. 

It had been a foolish thing to do, as Berrington realised almost as soonas his mind cleared. He had been somewhat badly mauled in thepreliminaries, and now it seemed to him that he was a prisoner in thehands of these people. The only consolation that was left to him was thefact that Field would come to his rescue in good time. 

But Berrington was by no means done for yet. To begin with, there wasnot the slightest trace of fear in his heart. He had been in too manytight places before to have any emotion of that kind. He fell backagainst the wall, panting for breath; he looked around him again forsome avenue of escape, but he could see none. 

It was a curious scene, altogether, the elegantly furnished room, thelitter of glasses and china and crystal in one corner, the mysteriousoutlined figure on the table. The glare of electric lights shone on thefaces of the men there, on the impudent features of the woman who hadposed as the Countess de la Moray, and on the pale, supplicating faceof Mary Sartoris. For a little time nobody said anything. 

It was Mary Sartoris who was the first to speak. She crossed over to herbrother and held out her hand with a gesture of passionate supplication. 

"It is all a mistake, " she cried. "Colonel Berrington is under amisapprehension. He imagines that something wrong is taking place here;he has acted on the spur of the moment. He did not come to the house tosee anybody but me. "

Sartoris grinned in evil fashion. Just for the moment he looked halfconvinced. 

"He comes in strange fashion, " he said. "All the same, I have not theleast doubt of the value of Colonel Berrington's friendship so far asyou are concerned. But that is not the point. Did you admit your friendColonel Berrington to the house?"

For the fraction of a second a bold lie trembled on Mary's lips. But shecould not utter it. She looked down in confusion, and her face trembled. Sartoris grinned in the same wicked fashion. A black rage was rising inhis heart. 

"Good girl, " he sneered. "Always tell the truth. It is the proper thingto do, and it will bring its own reward in the end. Only it is attendedwith personal inconvenience at times, such as the present, for instance. How did Colonel Berrington get here?"

"I will save your sister the trouble of replying, " Berrington cried. "Icame here, acting on certain information that had come to my knowledge. I came here to discover if I could learn some facts bearing on thedisappearance of Sir Charles Darryll's body. And I am not disposed tothink that my efforts are altogether in vain. "

It was a bold speech and not without its effect. The woman called Coraturned a shade paler, and the clean-shaven man by her side winced. Theonly one who seemed disposed to a mild course of policy was Bentwood. 

"For heaven's sake don't let us have any violence, " he said hoarsely. "There has been too much of that already. I mean there is no necessityfor anything of the kind. If Colonel Berrington knows anything of any ofus----"

"I know everything, " Berrington replied. It seemed to him that a boldcourse of action was the best to be taken under the circumstances. "Forinstance, I have a pretty accurate knowledge of the checkered past ofDr. Bentwood and the malignant scoundrel who calls himself CarlSartoris. Of Miss Mary Sartoris I will say nothing. There are othershere, too, whose past is not altogether wrapped in mystery. There areGeneral Gastang and Countess de la Moray, for instance. And once I amoutside these walls----"

Sartoris pushed his chair close to the speaker. He was seething withpassionate rage, his face was livid with anger. For the moment he coulddo nothing; he only thirsted for the blood of the bold Berrington. 

"You are not outside these walls, " he said. "You are not likely to beoutside these walls for some time to come. You have described us inlanguage that you have spared no trouble to render abusive. You know toomuch. And we have our own way here of dealing with enemies of ours whoknow too much. "

There was no mistaking the dreadful threat that underlay the hoarsespeech. There was underground murder in the eyes of Sartoris. Berringtonsmiled scornfully. 

"I know exactly what you mean, " he said; "indeed, I know more than yougive me credit for. And I will make my suspicions certainties. "

Berrington advanced swiftly to the table and laid a hand on the sheetthat covered the still, silent form there. Another instant, and thewhole mystery would have been exposed. But Sartoris propelled his chairforward and grabbed Berrington by the arm. 

"You cowards, " he yelled. "If I were not cursed by these crippled bonesof mine, I would have plucked that fellow's heart from his body. Don'tstand there like a lot of mummies. Pull him back, I say, pull him back. "

The harsh, ringing command seemed to restore the other listeners to asense of what they owed to themselves. With a cry, the man called Reggiewas on Berrington, though Mary Sartoris had fallen and clasped himaround the knees. With an oath, Bentwood darted forward and flunghimself upon Berrington's shoulders. The struggle was a hot one, for theColonel fought well, but the odds were too many for him, and he wasborne at length heavily to the ground. His head came in contact with thefloor, and he lay there just a minute dazed and giddy. 

He had failed, too, which was the most humiliating part of the business. He had, at any cost, resolved to make assurance doubly sure. He couldsee the grinning triumph on the face of Sartoris, as he scrambled to hisfeet; he could see the tears in Mary's eyes. For the personal danger tohimself he cared nothing. 

"Let's make an end of it, " Sartoris cried. "He's too dangerous to live. Let us make an end of him. Dead men tell no tales. "

"No, no, " Mary cried. "You shall not do it. No, no. "

"Then go and fetch the police, " Sartoris said with a little laugh. "Fetch them in, I say. Let them come here and investigate, and afterthat you can stand in the dock and give evidence against your ownbrother. My child, you are free to depart as soon as you like. Go now!"

Mary Sartoris stood there trembling and hesitating. Sartoris wheeledhis chair rapidly and dexterously across to her, and then raised hisfist in a threatening manner. For a moment it seemed as if he meant tostrike the girl. 

"Go now!" He repeated his command harshly. "Go at once! Go out of myhouse and never come back again, you white-faced mewling cat. Pah, youdare not do anything. You are not to stay in the room. Go!"

The girl seemed dazed and unable to exercise her own will. She creptwith faltering steps to the door. As she was going out, she turned aneye of affection on Berrington. 

"If you will only promise me that there will be no violence, " she said, "I----"

"I promise that, " Bentwood said in a cringing voice. He was the only manthere who seemed to be restless and uneasy and anxious. "There is goingto be no violence so long as I am here. Why should there be any violenceat all?"

The man asked the question with an eye on Berrington. For some reasonor other he seemed very desirous of pleasing the soldier, and yet notoffending his comrades. Sartoris laughed. 

"Cautious man, " he said. "Always be on the safe side. Hang the girl, isshe going to stay here all night? Go, I tell you; take your white facefrom me. Go. "

The door closed behind Mary Sartoris, and something like a sob came fromthe hall. With a sudden fury and new strength Berrington darted to thetable again. Once more he might have been successful, but the keen eyeof Sartoris was upon him; the cripple seemed to read his thoughts. Likea flash the invalid chair caught Berrington on the shin, and sent himsprawling across the floor; the chair sped on and there was a suddenclick and the room was in darkness. Berrington had a quick mentalpicture of where different objects were--and he made a dash for theswitch. Some great force seemed to grip him by the hands, he waspowerless to move; he heard what seemed to him to be the swing and joltof machinery. Somebody was laughing much as if a funny play was beingperformed before delighted eyes, with Berrington for the third man ofthe company, and then the light came up again. 

Angry and baffled and disappointed as Berrington was, all these feelingsgave way to amazement as he looked around the room. Every sign of a bodyhad disappeared, the room was empty save for Sartoris, who sat smoking acigarette, with a sardonic smile on his face. All the others had gone, and the body was gone from the table; on the latter was a dark crimsoncloth surmounted by a mass of flowers arranged tastefully around anelectric stand. Sartoris laughed in an easy, mocking way. 

"Miracles whilst you wait, " he said. "I just press a button and thereyou are. You say that you saw a lot of people here and some object onthe table. You would swear to that?"

"Being in full possession of my faculties, I would, " Berrington saidgrimly. 

"And where are they? There was no lady, there were no people, only myhumble, sweet self always glad to see my distinguished friend ColonelBerrington. "

Berrington made no reply for a moment. It seemed hopeless to try to copewith the little fiend who appeared to have all the powers of hell behindhim. He looked down at the floor as if to find evidence of magic there, but the pattern of the turkey carpet was intact, the big brass-headednails were in the corners and along the fireplace. 

"'There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt ofin your philosophy, '" Sartoris quoted. "As a rule your soldier is a dullman and not gifted with much imagination. And so you have taken thismatter up on the principle that Satan finds some mischief still for idlehands to do. You see that I am in a mood to quote to-night. But on thewhole you are not what the world calls a bad fellow. On the contrary, I_am_. And that being the case, and as I am not supposed to be in theleast scrupulous in my methods, it stands to reason that I am likely toget the better of you. Now you are a man of honour, and if you give yourword it is as good as your bond. Give me your word that not onesuggestion of what has taken place here to-night shall be spoken, andyou are free to go. "

Berrington laughed as he looked around him. 

"Who is going to stop me?" he asked. "You seem to be sure of yourground. If you were not a cripple I would give you the most perfectspecimen of a thrashing that you ever had in your life. My word will bepassed to worthier stuff than you. "

"So you are going to take advantage of my weakness and walk out of thehouse?" Sartoris asked. 

"That is part of the programme, " Berrington said. "I feel perfectly surethat a bold front would dismay your friends. I wish you good night. "

CHAPTER XXII

Sartoris sat in his chair without expressing any opinion or emotion ofany kind. There was just a faint suggestion of a smile on his face as ifhe were getting a little more pleasure than usual out of his cigarette. He glanced quite casually in the direction of the doorway, and he movedhis chair just a little. Then his left hand stole quietly to his side. 

"The battle is not always to the strong, " he said in quite a gentle toneof voice. "But since you will not give me your word, I must do withoutit. If you want to go, there is no reason why I should detain you anylonger. Good night, sir, and pleasant dreams to you. "

Though the words were uttered in quite a simple fashion, there was aring about them that Berrington did not altogether like. He wanted toflatter himself that he had conquered this murderous ruffian by sheerforce of will, as he had done more than once with certain native tribesthat he had been sent out against. 

But he could not think that he had any kind of right to the feeling. These people had really got the best of him, for they had spirited awaythat mysterious parcel, and what was more to the point, he had betrayedthe fact that he had a pretty good idea of what that parcel was. Why, then, was there this sudden change of front on the part of CarlSartoris? The thought was uppermost in Berrington's mind as he laid ahand on the door. 

Then he reeled back as if struck by some stupendous unseen force. Agreat pain gripped him from head to foot, his brain seemed to be onfire. In vain he strove to release his hand on the door knob; it seemedwelded to the metal. From head to foot the shooting agony went on. Withhis teeth ripping his lower lip till the blood came, Berrington tried tofight down the yell of pain that filled his throat, but the effort wasbeyond human power. A long piteous wail of agony and entreaty came fromhim. It was only when the third or fourth cry was torn from him and hefelt the oppression of a hideous death, that the thing suddenly ceasedand Sartoris's gentle, mocking laughter took the place of the agony. 

"You are not feeling very well, " Sartoris called out. "If you are notaltogether in a state of physical collapse, will you kindly walk thisway. A little brandy will about fit the case. "

Berrington was past protest and past flight, for the moment. He seemedto be sick to the soul. There came back to him the vivid recollection ofthe time when he had lain out in the jungle all night, with a bulletthrough his lungs, waiting wearily for death in the morning. He flunghimself exhaustedly into a chair and gasped for breath. Sartoris watchedhim as some cold-blooded scientist might have watched the flaying of alive animal. 

"Your heart is not nearly so bad as you think, " he said. "When thepressure goes from your lungs you will be much better. That is a littledodge of mine which is built upon a pretty full knowledge ofelectricity. Up to now I have not had an opportunity of giving it agood trial. Are you feeling any better?"

Berrington nodded. The colour was coming back to his cheeks now, thepainful feeling at his chest was abating. The brandy was going to theright place. 

"You malignant little fiend, " he gasped. "I should be doing the world aservice if I took you by the throat and squeezed the life out of you. "

"Well, the remedy is in your hands, though I doubt whether or not ajudge and jury would take the same sanguine view of the case. But youare free to try if you like. I am only a mere miserable bag of bones, and you are a strong man. Get to work. "

The cackling challenge passed unheeded. Actually there was somethingabout the strange little man to be afraid of. He took up the thread ofconversation again. 

"You will find that every exit is guarded in the same way, " he said. "Ihave only to set the whole machinery in motion and you are powerless. You are in my hands. If you had touched me when I asked you just now, you would have been dead at my feet. But strange as it may seem, I havea heart hidden in this crooked little body of mine somewhere. I was notalways bad, as you know. There was a time when I was another man. "

"Never, " Berrington said dispassionately. "The seeds of evil were alwaysthere. "

"Well, let that pass, if you like. A bad man and a bad woman and adreadful accident have reduced me to what you see. What took place hereto-night is beside the mark. The fact remains that you know too much. You stand between us and a scheme that I have been plotting for years. Whether that scheme is connected with Sir Charles Darryll mattersnothing. The great point, as I said before, is that you know too much. What are you going to do?"

"Wait my chance and publish my knowledge to the world, " Berringtoncried. 

"And lose Mary for ever? Oh, I know that you are still in love with her, I know that you will never be happy till she is your wife. But you seemto lose sight of the fact that she is strongly attached to me. And ifharm comes to me through you, Mary will never become Mrs. Berrington. She will love you and leave you as they do in the stories. "

"You cannot detain me here for any length of time, " Berrington saidcoldly. 

"I can keep you here till I have finished my campaign, " Sartorisreplied. "I could murder you, and nobody be any the wiser. "

Berrington thought of Field, and smiled. Hitherto he had not trieddiplomacy. His contempt and hatred for this man, his knowledge of hisown strength and courage, had sufficed for the present. Now it seemedtime to resort to strategy. 

"You are quite correct, so far, " he said. "I know much, I know a greatdeal more than you imagine. But in taking the risks I took to-night Idid not do so blindly. I had my own reasons for attending to the workprivately. But I recognized my danger and the man I had to deal with. So, indeed, I would proceed to make my retreat safe. Did you ever hearof sealed orders?"

"Naturally I have. But what have they to do with the present case?"

"Everything. When an admiral detaches a part of his fleet in war time, he sends the detached part away with sealed orders which are to beopened under certain circumstances. If those said circumstances do notarise, then the sealed orders are destroyed. As I do not desire mysecond in command to know too much, I gave him sealed orders. If I donot return by a certain time, those orders are to be opened. I shouldsay that they are being opened about now. You understand me?"

Sartoris nodded; it was quite clear that he understood perfectly well. But his dry little face did not change in the slightest. 

"That was clever, " he said; "but not quite clever enough. I should havegone a little further if I had been in your position. What you saymerely induces me to get rid of you altogether. But let us go into myroom and discuss the matter quietly. Kindly turn my chair around, no, not that way. Grip the handle at the back and push me----"

Berrington heard no more. As his hands came in contact with the brassrail at the back of the chair there came a tremendous blow at the baseof the brain, a cold feeling of sudden death, and the crisis was past. When Berrington came to himself again he was lying on a bed in a smallroom; there was a lamp on a table by his side. He had no feelingwhatever that he had suffered from violence of any kind, his head wasclear and bright, his limbs felt as elastic and virile as ever. He waslike a man who had suddenly awakened from a long sleep; he was just asfresh and vigorous. The bed on which he was lying completed theillusion. 

"What new devil's work is this?" Berrington muttered. "Oh, I recollect. "

The room was small but comfortably furnished. There was a fire readylaid in the grate; on the ceiling was a three-branch electrolier, butthe switch by the door had been removed for some reason or other. 

On the table by the bed was a very liberal supper, flanked by a decanterof whisky and a syphon of soda water, also a box of cigarettes andanother of cigars. A silver match-box invited the prisoner to smoke. Hetook a cigarette. 

Clearly he was a prisoner. The window was shuttered with iron, and asmall round ventilator; high up, inside the door, was another sheet ofiron. There was perhaps a little consolation in the fact that nopersonal violence was intended. For a long time Berrington reviewed thesituation. At any rate he could see no way out of the mess for thepresent. He smoked his cigarette and ate his supper, and that beingdone, a feeling of fatigue stole over him. Looking at his watch, he sawthat it was past one o'clock in the morning, a very late hour for him. 

"I'll go to bed, " Berrington told himself. "Perhaps I shall be able tosee a way out in the morning. On the whole my diplomacy does not seem tohave been a success. It would have been much better if I had not hintedthat I had taken somebody else into my confidence. "

Despite his danger Berrington slept soundly. Bright sunshine was pouringinto the room through the little porthole in the iron shutter as he cameto himself. By his side was a cold breakfast, with a spirit lamp for thepurpose of making coffee. Berrington had hardly finished and applied amatch to a cigarette before he was startled by the scream of a whistle. Looking around to see whence the sound came, his eyes fell upon aspeaking tube. His heart gave a great leap as it occurred to theprisoner that perhaps Mary Sartoris was calling him. He crossed over andpulled out the whistle at his end and answered promptly. 

"Glad to hear that you have had a good night's rest, " came the dry voiceof Sartoris. "The bed is comfortable, the sheets well aired, and I canvouch for the quality of the cigars. By the way, as I have seen nothingof your confederate I am confirmed in my previous judgment that you weretrying to bluff me. Is not that so?"

Berrington said nothing, silence giving consent. On the whole itoccurred to him it would be far better to let Sartoris conclude that hewas alone in the business. 

"Very good, " the dry voice went on; "you are like the curly-headed boyin the song who never--or hardly ever--told a lie. Now there is onelittle thing that I am going to ask you to do. And if you refuse I shallbe under the painful necessity of causing you a great deal of physicalsuffering. On the table by the side of your bed you will find writingpaper, pen and ink. You will be so good as to write a letter to MissBeatrice Darryll or to Mrs. Richford--whatever you prefer to styleher--asking her to call upon you at the address which is stamped on thehead of the paper. You are to tell Miss Darryll that she is not to sayanything to anybody about the visit--that she is to come at ten o'clockto-night or later. Tell her also that she is to bring the little bunchof keys that she will find in her father's dressing-case. You may takeit from me that no harm whatever is intended to the young lady. Whenthe letter is finished you will be so good as to push it under the doorof your room. "

"It is an excellent programme for you, " Berrington said drily. "There isonly one flaw in the little arrangement that I can see--I decline to doanything of the kind. You may do whatever you like and treat me in anyway you please, but I shall decline to write that letter. And you maywhistle up the tube all day, so far as I am concerned. "

An oath came up the tube, then the voice of Sartoris, as if talking tosomebody else. The whistle was clapped on, but almost immediately it wasremoved and another voice whispered the name of Berrington. His heartgave a great leap. Mary was speaking. 

"For heaven's sake, write that letter, " came the agonized whisper. "Ipledge you my word----"

The voice stopped and the whistle was clapped into the tube again. 

CHAPTER XXIII

The request was a strange one, Berrington thought. 

Not that he failed to trust Mary Sartoris. In spite of everything, hehad faith in her. Whatever she was doing in that queer household, noshadow of shame or disgrace could possibly lie on her. 

And yet what could she want that letter for? Again, what was the need todrag Beatrice Darryll into this black business? The more Berringtonthought it over, the more puzzled he became. Only one thing wastolerably clear--Sir Charles Darryll had valuable interests somewhere, interests of which he had been in utter ignorance, and which theseruffians had determined to obtain and apply to their own ends. 

Still, Berrington hesitated. He did not know what would be for the best. If he declined to write that letter it might be the worse for him andeverybody else in the long run; if he did write the letter it mightpossibly prove harmful to Beatrice. Certainly Carl Sartoris had that endin view. Then there was another thing to take into consideration. HadInspector Field got safely away?

Berrington could not be absolutely certain, for the reason that therehad been no attempt to rescue him which was Field's obvious duty when heescaped. Yet a great many hours had passed and there had been no attemptof the kind. 

Very thoughtfully Berrington took paper and pen and ink from the drawerin the table. He was not surprised to see that the paper bore theaddress "100, Audley Place. " So Beatrice was to be lured there for somereason, or other, and Berrington was to be used for the purpose. Hethrew the pen down and determined that he would do nothing in thematter. He had barely come to this conclusion when the whistle in thetube sounded very faintly. It might have been no more than the wind inthe pipe, and yet on the other hand it might have been meant for acautious message. Berrington crossed over and asked a question in a lowvoice. Immediately a reply came in the faintest possible whisper. 

"It is I who speak, " the voice said. "Mary, you know. By accident I havea chance of a few words with you again. My brother thinks that I am inignorance of everything. He told me that you had left the house and thateverybody had gone. At the same time he declined to have the servantsback yet, and that aroused my suspicions. You can hear me?"

"My dearest girl, I can hear you perfectly well, " Berrington replied. "Where is your brother now? Can you speak freely to me for a time?"

"For a minute or two perhaps, certainly not more. Carl has gone into theconservatory for something; he may be back almost at once. He told methat you had gone. I did not believe it for a minute, so I watched andlistened. Then I found out that you were a prisoner here; I found outall about the letter. "

"The letter to Beatrice Darryll, you mean?"

"Yes, yes. Don't ask me why they desire to get her here, because I can'ttell you, --I don't know. But there is something about Burmah and rubymines that I fail to understand. It has something to do with SirCharles Darryll and Miss Violet Decié's father. "

"Shall we ever get to the bottom of this business!" Berringtonexclaimed. "But why should you particularly want me to write thatletter?"

"Because I shall be chosen as the messenger, " the girl said eagerly. "There are no servants here; the rest of my brother's friends are busyelsewhere. I gather that the letter is urgent; that being the case, Ishall be chosen to take it. You see, I am supposed to know nothingwhatever about it. I shall be able to see Miss Darryll myself. "

Berrington expressed his appreciation of the suggestion. Perhaps Marymight find herself in a position to do more than that. 

"Very well, " he said. "Under the circumstances I am to write that letterwith the understanding that you are going to convey it to itsdestination and warn Miss Darryll. But you must do more than that, Mary. It is impossible that I can remain a prisoner here like this. The thingis a daring outrage in the middle of London; it sounds more like a pagefrom a romance than anything else. At all risks, even to the brother bywhom you are standing so nobly, you must do this thing for me. After youhave seen Miss Darryll you are to go down to Scotland Yard and ask foran interview with Inspector Field. Tell him where I am to be foundand----"

"Oh, I cannot, Philip, dearest, " came the trembling whisper. "My ownbrother----"

"Who has been the curse of your life and mine, " Berrington said sternly. "What do you suppose you gain by standing by him in this fashion? Sooneror later he must come within grip of the law, and so all yoursufferings will be futile. If there was anything to gain by thisself-sacrifice I would say nothing. But to spoil your life for ascoundrel like that----"

"Don't say it, Phil, " Mary's voice pleaded. "Please don't say it. If youlove me as you once seemed to do, have a little patience. "

All the anger melted out of Berrington's heart. He had intended to behard and stern, but that gentle, pleading voice softened him at once. Knowing Mary as he did, he could imagine what her life had been theselast three years. Her sense of duty was a mistaken one, perhaps, but itwas nobly carried out, all the same. Sooner or later the effort must belost, and it occurred to Berrington that it would be cruel to hurry theend. Besides, there would be a greater satisfaction to him to feel thathe had beaten Sartoris at his own game. 

"I love you now as I loved you in the happy years gone by, " he said. "Indeed, I love you more, for I know how you have suffered, dearest. Mind you, I am not afraid. I do not regard myself as being in any greatdanger here--that is not the point. So I will write the letter and youshall deliver it when you please. What is that?"

There was a sudden commotion at the far end of the speaking tube, andsomething like the sound of wheels. Berrington bent his head eagerly tolisten. 

"Is there anybody there?" he asked. 

"My brother is coming back, " Mary said in a voice so faint thatBerrington could hardly catch the words. "I must fly. If he knows that Ihave been here he will have his suspicions. I will speak to you againas soon as possible. "

The whistle was clapped to, and the conversation ended. There wasnothing for it now but patience. Berrington took the pen and began towrite the letter. He wondered if he could possibly warn Beatrice betweenthe lines. There was yet a chance that Mary might not be the messenger. 

Berrington racked his brains, but all to no purpose. He must leave thematter to chance, after all. The speaking tube was going again, for thewhistle trilled shrilly. Sartoris was at the other end again; he seemedto be on very good terms with himself. 

"What about that letter?" he asked. "Have you changed your mind yet?Solitary confinement worked sufficiently on your nerves yet? Not thatthere's any hurry. "

"What shall I gain if I write the letter?" Berrington asked. 

"Gain! Why, nothing. The cards are all in my hands, and I play them as Iplease. 'Yours not to reason why, yours not to make reply, ' as Tennysonsays. For the present you are a prisoner, and for the present you staywhere you are. But one thing for your comfort. The sooner that letter iswritten and dispatched, the sooner you will be free. We are not takingall these risks for nothing, and our reward is close at hand now, I maytell you. If you don't write that letter I shall have to forge it, andthat takes time. Also a longer detention of your handsome person. If youconsent to write that letter you will be free in eight and forty hours. Don't address the envelope. "

Berrington checked a desire to fling the suggestion back in thespeaker's teeth. It angered him to feel that he was in the power of thislittle cripple, and that events in which he should have taken a handwere proceeding without him. But it was no time for feeling of thatkind. 

"I admit the defeat of the moment, " he said. "I will write that letterat once. But look to yourself when my time comes. "

Sartoris laughed scornfully, as he could afford to do. Berrington couldhear him humming as he clapped in the whistle, and then silence fellagain. The letter was finished and sealed at length, and pushed underthe door as Sartoris had directed. A little later and there came thesound of a footstep outside and a gentle scratching on the door panel. 

"Is that you, Mary?" Berrington asked, instantly guessing who it was. "Have you come for the letter?"

"Yes, I have, " was the whispered reply. "My brother could not manage toget up the stairs. He has one of his very bad attacks to-day. He has notthe least idea that I know anything. He said he dropped an unaddressedletter on this landing last night, and he asked me to fetch it. I darenot stay a minute. "

"Don't go quite yet, " Berrington pleaded. "I have had a brilliant idea. I can't stop to tell you what it is just now. The switch of the electriclight has been removed from here. Can you tell me where I can find it?"

"You want more light?" Mary asked. "Well, it is a little dreary in therewith only a lamp. The switch was taken off some time ago when the wallswere being done, and the electricians forgot to replace it. It issomewhere in the room, for I recollect seeing it. But unless youunderstand that kind of work----"

"Oh, soldiers understand something of everything, " said Berringtoncheerfully. "I shall be able to manage, no doubt. I won't detain you anylonger. "

Mary slipped away, and Berrington commenced to make a careful search ofthe room. He found what he wanted presently, in a little blue cup on theovermantel, and in a few minutes he had fixed the switch to the wall. Ashe pressed the little brass stud down, the room was flooded with abrilliant light. 

"There's some comfort in being able to see, at any rate, " Berringtonreflected. "It's ten chances to one that my little scheme does not comeoff, yet the tenth chance may work in my favour. I'll wait till it getsdark--no use trying it before. "

Berrington dozed off in his chair, and soon fell into a profound sleep. When he came to himself again, a clock somewhere was striking the hourof eleven. There was no stream of light through the little roundventilator in the shutter, so that Berrington did not need to be toldthat the hour was eleven o'clock at night. 

"By Jove, what a time I've slept, " the soldier muttered. "What's that?"

Loud voices downstairs, voices of men quarrelling. Berrington pulled thewhistle out of the tube and listened. Someone had removed the whistlefrom the other end, or else it had been left out by accident, for thesound came quite clear and distinct. 

It was the voice of Sartoris that was speaking, a voice like a snarlingdog. 

"I tell you you are wrong, " Sartoris said. "You tried to fool me, andwhen we make use of you and get the better of you, then you whine likea cur that is whipped. Don't imagine that you have your poor misguidedwife to deal with. "

"My wife has nothing to do with the case, " the other man said, "so leaveher out. "

Berrington's heart was beating a little faster as he glued his ear tothe tube. He did not want to miss a single word of the conversation. 

"This grows interesting, " he said softly. "A quarrel between Sartorisand Stephen Richford. Evidently I am going to learn something. "

CHAPTER XXIV

Every word of the conversation was quite plain and distinct. Richfordseemed to be very vexed about something, but on the other hand Sartorisappeared to be on the best of terms with himself. 

"You tried to get the better of us, " he was saying. "You thought thatclever people like ourselves were going to be mere puppets in the play, that we were going to pull your chestnuts for you. You with the brainsof a rabbit, and the intelligence of a tom cat! That low cunning ofyours is all very well in the City, but it is of no use with me. Whereare those diamonds?"

"Those diamonds are so safe that we can't touch them, " Richford sneered. 

"Very well, my friend. Believe me, we shall know how to act when thetime comes. But you are wasting time here. You should be in EdwardStreet long ago. Edward Street in the Borough; you know the place Imean. The others are there, Reggie and Cora and the rest, to say nothingof the object of our solicitous desires. You follow me?"

"Oh, yes, I follow everything, confound you, " Richford growled. "You aretrying to frighten me with your cry of danger. As if I was fool enoughto believe that story. "

"You can just please yourself whether you believe it or not, " Sartorisreplied. "But the danger is real enough. I have had the salt two daysnow in succession. It is true that it came by post and was not addressedto me here, but it is proof positive of the fact that our yellow friendsare on the right track at last. They may even be outside now. That iswhy I want you to go as far as Edward Street without delay. "

Richford seemed to be convinced at last, for he made no reply. 

"And you need not worry about your wife for the present, " Sartoris wenton. "So long as she _is_ your wife you come in for your share of theplunder when the division takes place. Nor need you let her know thatyou married her for her fortune, and not for her pretty face. Peoplewill be surprised to discover what a rich man Sir Charles really was. "

Berrington started with surprise. A great flood of light had been let inon the scene in the last few words of this overheard conversation. Sothere was a large fortune somewhere, and this was at the bottom of thisdark conspiracy. The conversation trailed off presently, and Berringtonheard no more. But his heart was beating now with fierce exultation, forhe had heard enough. Without knowing it, Sir Charles Darryll had been arich man. But those miscreants knew it, and that was the reason why theywere working in this strange way. A door closed somewhere and then therewas silence. It was quite evident that Richford had left the house. 

A minute or two later and Berrington got his flash signal at work. Heused it over and over again for an hour or so in the hope that the housewas being watched. A great sigh of satisfaction broke from him presentlywhen he knew the signal was being answered. Once more there was anirritating delay and then the quick tapping of the reply. Field was notfar off, and Field had grasped the scheme. Also he had to send forsomebody to translate the flashing signs. Berrington understood it nowas well as if he had been outside with the police. 

He sent his messages through quickly now, and received his replies asregularly. Nor did he forget to impart the information he had discoveredrelative to the house in Edward Street, Borough. On the whole it had notbeen a bad night's work. 

A restless desire to be up and doing something gripped Berrington. Hewandered impatiently about the room, listening at the tube from time totime, in the hope of getting something fresh. Down below he could hearthe sharp purring of the electric bell and the shuffle of Sartoris'schair over the floor of the hall. Then there was a quick cry whichstopped with startling suddenness, as if a hand had gripped the throatof somebody who called out with fear. 

For a little time after that, silence. Then voices began to boomdownstairs, voices in strange accents that seemed to be demandingsomething. Evidently foreigners of some kind, Berrington thought, as hestrained his ears to catch something definite. Sartoris seemed to bepleading for somebody, and the others were stern and determined. It wassome time before Berrington began to understand what nationality thenewcomers were. A liquid voice was upraised. 

"Burmah, " Berrington cried. "I thought I knew the tongue. Burmese beyonda doubt. I wish those fellows would not speak quite so quickly. I wishthat I had learned a little more of the language when I had theopportunity. Ah, what was that?"

A familiar phrase had struck home to the old campaigner. One of thenewcomers was saying something about rubies. There were ruby mines inBurmah, some of which had never been explored by white men. Sir CharlesDarryll had been out there in his younger days and so had his friend, the Honourable Edward Decié. Suppose that rubies had something to dowith the papers that Sartoris declared Sir Charles possessed. Berringtonwas feeling now that his weary hours of imprisonment had by no meansbeen wasted. He heard Sartoris's sullen negative, a sound of a blow, anda moan of pain, then silence again. 

Perhaps those strangers downstairs were applying torture. Berrington hadheard blood-curdling stories of what the Burmese could do in that way. Bad as he was, Sartoris had never lacked pluck and courage, and he wasnot the man to cry out unless the pain was past endurance. The gutturallanguage returned; it was quite evident that Sartoris was being forcedto do something against his will. 

"You shall have it, " he said at last. "I'll ask my secretary to bringthe papers down. "

There was a shuffling of Sartoris's chair across the floor, and then apuff of wind came up the tube. Very quickly Berrington replaced thewhistle. It flashed across him that Sartoris was going to call him toassist to get rid of those yellow friends downstairs. But how was thatgoing to be done so long as the door was locked?

"Are you there?" Sartoris asked in French, and in a whisper, so low thatBerrington could hardly hear. "Speak to me, Colonel, and use the samelanguage that I am using. "

"All right, " Berrington replied. "Anything wrong downstairs? What can Ido to help you?"

"Come down as quickly as possible. Take your boots off, and creep intomy study. I am in the hands of two Burmese, members of a society towhich I belonged at one time. They have come to have my life or certaininformation that I decline to give them. You know enough of the East tobe able to appreciate my danger. "

The story was more or less of a lie, as Berrington was perfectly wellaware, but there was a large amount of truth in it, nevertheless. Berrington smiled to himself. 

"There is one little hitch in the programme, " he said. "You seem toforget that I am a prisoner here, behind a door that is protected bysteel. "

"I had forgotten that for the moment, " Sartoris proceeded rapidly. "Butit is quite possible to open the door from the inside, if you know thesecret. Turn the handle four times to the right quickly and firmly, andthen three times to the left, and the door will open. I dare not say anymore, as these fellows are beginning to look at me suspiciously. Oneminute more, and I have finished. There is an old Dutch bureau at thetop of the stairs by your door. In the second drawer on the right is aloaded revolver. You may want to use it----"

The voice suddenly ceased, and a cry of pain floated up again. All theold fighting spirit raged in Berrington's veins now. He was going to befree, he would have a weapon that he well knew how to use in his hands, and he had obtained information of the most valuable kind. With his handon the knob of the door he followed directions. Four times to the rightand three to the left! A pull, and the door came open. 

Berrington was free at last. As soon as he realised that fact hisprofessional caution came back to him. He kicked off his boots, andfinding the Webley revolver, loaded in all chambers, he crept like a catdown the stairs, and looked into the study. 

Sartoris lay back in his chair with his hands bound to his sides. Roundhis head the two strangers had strung a piece of knotted whipcord whichone of them was drawing tighter and tighter with the aid of a penknifetwisted in the bandage. The face of the victim was ghastly white, hiseyes rolled, and the great beads poured down his cheeks. Berrington hadheard of that kind of torture before. His blood was boiling now, notthat he had any cause for sympathy with the little man in the chair. 

"My God, I can't stand this much longer, " Sartoris moaned. "Will thatfellow never come! Or has he failed to understand my instructions? Mybrain is blazing. Help, help. "

Berrington strode into the room, resolutely but softly. The littleyellow man who was administering the torture seemed to have his wholeheart in his work; he graduated the torture to a nicety. He seemed tounderstand exactly how much the victim could stand without losing lifeand reason altogether. He was like a doctor with an interesting patient. 

"I think you will tell me where to find what we desire?" he saidsmoothly. 

"And then we can depart and trouble the gentleman no more, " said theother man, who was looking on as coolly as if at some landscape. "Whyput us to all this trouble?"

"I'll tell you, " Sartoris moaned. "If you will look in the----God bepraised!"

The last words came with a yell, for the startled eyes had caught sightof Berrington standing grimly in the background. The latter's left handshot out and the Burmese who held the penknife in the cord staggeredacross the room from the force of a blow on the temple, which, had ittaken full effect, would have felled him like an ox. 

Before he could recover from the full impact of the blow, Berrington wason the other man. Then the two closed on him as he backed to the walland raised his revolver. 

"You see that I am too many for you, " he said. "Put down those knives. "

For two long cutting knives were gleaming in the light of the electrics. Nothing daunted, the pair made a rush at Berrington, who fired right andleft. He had no intention that the shots should be fatal, but they bothtook effect, one in the shoulder and the other in the arm. When thesmoke cleared away Berrington and Sartoris were alone. A cold stream ofair pouring into the room testified to the fact that the front door hadnot been closed by the miscreants in their escape. Berrington cut thecord around the victim's head and bathed his forehead with water. Alittle brandy seemed to effect something in the way of a cure. 

"My God, that was awful, awful, " Sartoris moaned. "A second more and Ishould have died. Would you mind shutting the front door? The cold airmakes me feel like death. That's better. I dare say you wonder whatthose fellows were doing here?"

There was just a touch of slyness in the question. Berrington smiled tohimself. He wondered what Sartoris would say if he only knew how muchthe listener had overheard. 

"I suppose your sins are finding you out, " he said. "They generally do. Personally, I have no curiosity on the subject at all. And I have notthe slightest doubt that your punishment, though pretty severe, was atthe same time well deserved. And now, sir, as fate has given me the whiphand of you, have you any reason to urge why I should stay in this houseany longer? I take it that you are not quite in a position to place yourelectric battery at work from this room as you did from the other. Ifyou like to----"

Berrington paused, as there was a loud knocking at the door. Sartoris'spale face grew still paler as he listened. Then he forced a smile to hispallid lips. 

"Don't take any heed, " he said eagerly. "Let them go away again underthe impression that nobody is at the house. Let them knock all night ifthey like. "

But Berrington was already half-way to the door. 

CHAPTER XXV

With the letter to Beatrice safe in her pocket, Mary made her way to the_Royal Palace Hotel_. She had her own idea as to what she was going todo, and that certainly was not to invite Beatrice to go to Wandsworth. For the girl had a difficult and dangerous task before her. Rightly orwrongly, it seemed to her that her place was by the side of the brotherwho had treated her so badly. Many a good woman before had sacrificedherself to a scoundrel, and many a good woman will do so again. Mary hadalways clung to the idea that Sartoris might be brought back to the foldagain. She knew pretty well how far he had fallen, but she did not quiteunderstand the deep depravity of the man's nature. After all, he was anobject to be pitied; after all, he had been the victim of a woman'scruelty, or so Mary thought. But Mary did not know everything; had shedone so she would have been forced to leave her brother to his owndevices. 

She came at length to the _Royal Palace Hotel_, and asked for Beatrice. The latter was in her room, she was told, and Mary went up. But Beatricewas not there, her place for the time being occupied by Adeline, themaid. 

"My mistress is out, " the maid explained; "but if you will leave anymessage I can deliver it. She will not be very long, in any case. "

Mary hesitated. She had many things to do and no time to waste. It wasnot altogether imperative that she should see Beatrice just at themoment. She turned the matter over in her mind before she replied toAdeline's suggestion. 

"I rather wanted to see your mistress, " she said. "Perhaps I may make itconvenient to return in about half an hour or so. Meanwhile, will youplease give her this letter. Will you be very careful to say that Mrs. Richford is to do nothing till she has seen me? I mean that she is notto take any steps in the matter of the letter till I come back. Will yoube especially careful about that?"

Adeline promised, in a vague kind of way. She did not express the usualcuriosity of her class; her mind seemed to be elsewhere. She showed Maryout with an alacrity that would have aroused her suspicions had she hadless to occupy her mind. But Adeline had affairs of her own to think of. There was a very striking-looking valet on the same floor who had shownhimself not insensible to the girl's attractions. Adeline laid the noteon the table and promptly forgot all about it. 

In the full assurance that no harm was possible for the present, Marywent her way. It was getting late in the evening now, and the hotel wasfull of people; a strange excitement seemed to be in the air; outside, the newsboys were particularly busy, and there seemed to be a more thanusually heavy run on their wares. 

Surely they were shouting a familiar name, Mary thought. She came out ofher brown study and listened. It was something to do with StephenRichford. Surely there could not be two men of the same name. No; itmust be the same. 

"Startling disclosures in the City. Collapse of a great firm. Richford &Co. Go down. Warrant out for the arrest of the senior partner. Flight ofStephen Richford. "

Mary listened in amazement. Her brother knew a great deal about thisman; he had always been spoken of as a wealthy individual. And here wasBeatrice Darryll's husband a criminal and a fugitive from justice. Nobody appeared to be talking about anything else; the name was on thestreets. Mary could hear it everywhere. A bent man, with a clerical hatand glasses and an Inverness cape, hurried by the girl as she came outof the hotel. Even this elderly gentleman seemed interested. 

He pushed his way into the hotel and feebly ascended the stairs as if hehad business there. In so large a place every respectably dressed mancould pass in and out without incurring suspicion. No hall porter wouldstop any visitor and ask his business, so that the elderly clergymanpassed unchallenged. As he came to the door of Beatrice's room hehesitated for a moment, and then passed in and closed the door behindhim. 

"Nobody here!" he muttered. "Maid gone off on her own business, Isuppose. Well, I can sit down here and wait till Beatrice comes back. What's this? A letter addressed by some unknown correspondent to Mrs. Richford. By Jove! Sartoris's address on the flap. Now, what does thislittle game mean? And who wrote the letter? My dear Sartoris, if I onlyhad you here for the next five minutes!"

The man's face suddenly convulsed with rage, his fists were clenchedpassionately. He paced up and down the room with the letter in his hand. 

"This may tell me something, " he said; "this may be a clue. I'll openit. "

As frequently happens with thick envelopes, the gum was defective, andthe back of a penknife served to open the cover without in any waybetraying the fact that the cover had been tampered with. A puzzledfrown crossed the face of the thief. 

"Berrington!" he muttered; "Berrington! Oh, I know. That beast, eh? Nowconsidering that he is more or less of a prisoner in the house of mydear friend Sartoris, why does he write like this to Beatrice? DamnSartoris; there is no getting to the bottom of him, with his wily brain. On the whole Beatrice shall be allowed to go. It's a horrible positionfor a girl like her; but at the present moment I have no choice--perhapsI'll join the party later on. Hang those newsboys, too--why can't theystop their silly clatter?"

The intruder replaced the letter, and a moment later Beatrice came in. She started at the sight of the stranger, who made some apology for theintrusion. The man looked old and respectable and harmless, so that thegirl smiled at him. But she did not smile when the shovel hat wasremoved, together with the wig and the glasses. 

"Stephen!" Beatrice gasped. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Well, I can conclude that my disguise is a pretty good one, " Richfordgrinned, "seeing that you did not recognize me at all. And as to whatthis means, I should say that your own common sense would tell you. Didyou hear anything?"

"I heard the boys with the papers, " Beatrice said; "but I did notconnect ... Do you mean to say that you are, you are----"

Beatrice could not say the word. But there was no reason for her to askthe question. 

"Why be so delicate about it in the presence of a mere husband?"Richford sneered. "Do you suppose I came here in disguise just to giveyou a pleasant surprise? The bubble has been pricked, and all the restof it. I went for too much, and I failed, as many a better man hasfailed before me. I have Carl Sartoris to thank for this; I should havepulled through but for him. This is his revenge because I would not doas he desired. Whatever you do, beware of that man! Don't go near himunder any circumstances. "

"I am not likely to go near him, " Beatrice said coldly; "but tell me, why did you come here? It is not possible that I can help you in anyway!"

"Oh, yes it is, " Richford said, with a certain good humour that causedBeatrice to turn suspicious at once. "You can do a great deal for me ifyou only will. I am going to leave you a desolate and disconsolatewidow. A grass widow, if you like; but you will have your freedom. I amgoing to leave my country for my country's good; I shall never come backagain. But the crash has come at a time when I least expected it, whichis a habit that crashes have. I had barely time to procure this disguisebefore the wolves were after me. They are hot on my track now, and Ihave no time to spare. What I come for is money. "

"Money! Surely you made a sorry mistake then!"

"Oh, no; I'm not asking for cash, seeing that you have practically noneof your own. As you refuse to consider yourself my wife, in future youmust also decline to take anything from me. Therefore those diamonds arenot your property. If you will hand them over to me, we will shake handsand part for ever. "

Beatrice drew a long deep breath of something like relief. It was goodto know that this man was going to rid her of his hateful presence forever, but this was too big a price to pay for her freedom. 

"Let us quite understand one another, " she said. "Your business isruined; there is nothing left. What about your creditors, the people whotrusted you?"

"Burn and blister my creditors, " Richford burst out furiously. "What dothey matter? Of course the fools who trusted me with their money willcry out. But they only trusted it with me, because they thought that Iwas slaving and scheming to pay them big dividends. It will not be thewelfare of my creditors that keeps me awake at night. "

"Always cold and callous and indifferent to the feelings of others, "Beatrice said. "Not even one single thought for the poor people that youhave ruined. What are those diamonds worth?"

"Well, I gave £40, 000 for them. I dare say I can get, say £30, 000 forthem. But we are wasting time in idle discourse like this. "

"Indeed, we are, " Beatrice said coldly. "So you think that in the faceof what you have just told me, I am going to hand those stones over toyou! Nothing of the kind. I shall keep them in trust for your creditors. When the right time comes I shall hand them over to the properauthorities. Nothing will turn me from my decision. "

A snarling oath burst from Richford's lips. He stretched out his hand asif he would have fain taken Beatrice by the throat and strangled her. 

"Don't fool with me, " he said hoarsely; "don't play with me, or I mayforget myself. Give me those diamonds if you have any respect for yourskin. "

But Beatrice made not the slightest attempt to move. Her face had grownvery pale, still she was quite resolute. 

"If you think to frighten me by threats, you are merely wasting yourtime, " she said coldly. "The stones are in safe keeping, and there theyremain till I can give them to your trustees. "

"But I am powerless, " Richford said. "How am I to get away? In a fewhours all my resources will be exhausted, and I shall fall into thehands of the police. And a nice thing that would be. Your husband afelon, with a long term of imprisonment before him!"

"I see no dissimilarity, " Beatrice said, "between the deed and thepunishment that fits it. After all I have gone through, a little thinglike that would make no difference to me. "

"Then you are not going to part with those diamonds?"

Beatrice shook her head. Richford stood before her with one of his handson her arm and his other about her white slender throat. There was amurderous look on his face, but the eyes that Beatrice turned upon himdid not for a moment droop. Then Richford pushed the girl away brutallyfrom him and walked as far as the door. 

"You don't want for pluck, " he growled. "I believe that if you hadflinched just now I should have killed you. And I was going to save youfrom a danger. I shall do nothing of the kind. Go your own way, and Iwill go mine. "

Richford glanced at the letter on the table, then he passed out, bangingthe door behind him. In the _foyer_ of the hotel he sat down as ifwaiting for somebody. In reality he was trying to collect his scatteredthoughts. But it was hard work in that chattering, laughing mob, withhis own name on the lips of a hundred people there. 

CHAPTER XXVI

The venerable-looking old cleric sat there for the better part of anhour in the patient attitude of one who waits for a friend, but thoughhe puzzled his cunning brain he could see no way out of the difficulty. He had no money, and the police were after him. He recognised only toowell that he had to thank Sartoris for this--he had measured his cunningagainst that of the little cripple, and he had failed. He had played forthe greater part of the stake that was at the bottom of the mystery, andhe had paid the penalty. Bitterly he regretted his folly now. 

Presently, his humming brain began to clear. He saw one or two peoplethere whom he knew; he saw Beatrice come down to the office and go outpresently, with a little flat case under her arm. Richford's eyesgleamed, and a glow of inspiration thrilled him. 

"As sure as fate she has the diamonds, " he told himself. "She is afraidthat I should hit upon some scheme for getting them, and she is going todispose of them in some hiding-place. I'll follow her. Courage, myboy--the game is not up yet. "

As a matter of fact, Richford had summed up the situation correctly. Insome vague way Beatrice was a little alarmed. She had heard of suchthings as injunctions and the like. Suppose the law stepped in toprotect the rogue, as the law does sometimes. And Beatrice had somethingelse to do, for she had read Berrington's letter, and she had made upher mind to go to Wandsworth without delay. But first of all she wouldwalk as far as the old family jewellers in Bond Street and deposit thestones there. She had every faith in the head of the firm, whom thefamily had dealt with for so many years. 

No sooner had Beatrice stepped out of the hotel than Mary Sartoris cameback. She proceeded quietly up the stairs to find Adeline alone in theroom of her mistress. The girl blushed as Mary put the question thatrose naturally to her lips. 

"I'm very sorry, miss, " the girl stammered; "but I forgot all about yourmessage and the letter. I left the letter on the table, and my mistresshas just gone out. "

"Did she get the letter before she went?" Mary asked quickly. 

"Well, yes, I suppose so, miss, " was the reply, "seeing that the letteris no longer on the table. I suppose that my mistress has got it. Shemust have done so, for the envelope is in the grate. "

Sure enough, the envelope with the forged handwriting of Berrington uponit lay in the grate. Mary was too mortified to speak for the moment, besides there was no occasion to tell the maid anything. 

"I'm sorry you were so careless, " she said. "Did your mistress go outalone?"

"I believe so, " the contrite Adeline said. "She had a visitor, an oldclergyman who----"

But Mary was not listening, she was only thinking of Beatrice's danger. At the same time she had a clear recollection of the old clergyman, forhe had pushed past her into the hotel at the moment when she wasleaving the building for the first time. 

She went out into the street which was dark by this time. She would takea cab to Wandsworth at once and get there before Beatrice came. Butthere was no cab in sight, so that Mary had to walk some little way. Atthe corner of the road she stopped and hesitated for a moment. Close bystood the well-dressed couple who had imposed themselves upon Beatriceunder the guise of Countess de la Moray and General Gastang. 

Whatever were they doing here, just now, Mary wondered? Just for themoment it flashed across her mind that they were prying upon hermovements. But another idea occurred to her, as the two were accosted bythe old clergyman that Mary had seen before, and who had been a visitorto Beatrice Richford such a little time previously. 

She saw the man raise his hat politely at some question from theclergyman, then she saw his face change to a startled expression, andinstantly Mary understood. 

"I know who it is, " she said half aloud. "It is Stephen Richford indisguise. He has been to see his wife. I should like to know what theyare talking about. "

The trio were talking very earnestly indeed now. Just for the moment ithad looked as if the man called Reggie and the woman called Cora haddecided to give Richford the cold shoulder. But he had said a few words, and the scene was suddenly changed. The three walked off together andturned into a small restaurant a little way down the street. 

Moved by a feeling which she would have had some trouble to explain, Mary followed. In some vague way she felt that Beatrice was in danger. The restaurant was by no means a fashionable one, and few people werethere. Mary noticed, too, that the inside was divided into compartmentsin the old-fashioned way. She stepped into the box next the one wherethe three conspirators were seated and ordered a cup of tea. It was asatisfaction to the girl to know that she could hear all that was beingsaid in the other box. She heard the popping of a champagne cork, speedily followed by another. She had only to sit there and listen. Shehad forgotten all about Beatrice by this time. 

"Wine like that puts life into a man, " she heard Richford say. 

"And gives him a tongue too, " the man called Reggie laughed. "Deadlyexpensive stuff unless you can see some reasonable return for youroutlay in the near future. Come, Richford, we are both eager to know howyou propose to put money into our pockets. "

"And yet I can put a lot, " Richford said. "Oh, you need not be afraid ofthat crooked little devil at Wandsworth, for he shall not know anythingabout it. What do you say to £10, 000 apiece and nobody any the wiser?Doesn't that make your mouth water?"

"It would if you could show me the way, " Reggie said. "But in the mostdelicate way possible, my dear Richford, let me put it to you--that youare under a cloud at present. And why do you offer to divide the plunderin this very irrational way?"

"Simply because I _am_ under a cloud, " Richford growled. "I'm powerlessand desperate. I don't even know where to turn for a night's lodging. Now look here, the matter may take a day or two, and in the meantimeI've got to put up somewhere. And as a warrant of my good faith, I'm notgoing to ask you for any money. All I require is food and a bed andshelter, and that you may very well give me at Edward Street. Sartorisnever goes there. "

"Make it worth while and the thing's done, " Reggie said. "Give it aname. "

"Well, suppose we call it diamonds?" Richford suggested. "Have youforgotten those magnificent diamonds that I gave my wife, bless her, fora wedding present?"

A little gasp came from the listeners. It was evident to Richford thathe had struck the right chord, for he proceeded with more confidence. 

"I gave my dear wife stones worth nearly, if not quite, £40, 000, " hesaid. "I didn't hand over that little lot altogether out ofdisinterested affection. A man who takes risks, as I do, is pretty sureto come up against a financial crisis sooner or later, only it has beensooner in this case. Though my wife chose to ignore me, I left thestones in her possession because, being my wife, no creditor could layhands upon those gems. I went to her to-day and asked for them. Ofcourse I did not anticipate any difficulty whatever; I expected that shewould cock that imperially haughty nose of hers in the air and hand themover to me as if I were dirt beneath her feet. To my astonishment sheutterly refused to do anything of the kind. "

"Unkind, " the woman Cora laughed; "and yet so like a modern wife. Hadshe pawned them?"

"Not she! I was fool enough to say something that was not quitecomplimentary of my creditors, and she refused to part with the stonesanyhow. Said that they would go to pay my debts. I threatened violenceand all kinds of things, but it was no good. I said that unless I hadmoney in forty-eight hours I should be in jail, but it was all to noeffect. Did you ever hear anything so maddening in all your life?"

"You have my deepest sympathy, " Reggie said; "but you did not bring ushere to listen to a story that has no point to it like yours. You havegot some scheme in your head for getting hold of the stones. But youcan't do it alone. "

"If I could should I be such a cursed fool as to bring you two in?"Richford growled. "But I--but I can't appear. All I can do is to showyou the way and trust to your honour to give me a third of the plunderwhen it is turned into cash. "

"Hadn't you better get to the point?" Reggie suggested with undisguisedeagerness. 

"I'm coming to that. After my interview with my wife I sat in the halltrying to pull myself together. Presently I saw her ladyship come downand go to the office. Those diamonds had been deposited in the hotelsafe for obvious reasons. My wife came out of the office presently withthe case in her hand. Then I recognized what had happened. She wasafraid of some move of mine, and she was going to deposit the stoneselsewhere. It did not take me long to make up my mind where she wasgoing. She was about to take the plunder to Hilton in Bond Street. "

"How long ago?" the woman called Cora asked eagerly. "This isimportant. "

"Well, not more than an hour, anyway, " Richford replied. "Why do youask?"

"Because Hilton closes at five, " the woman said. "I know that, becausethe firm has done several little jobs for me lately. You may be prettysure that your wife did not deposit those stones at Hilton's to-day;therefore she still has them in her pocket. That being so, what we haveto do now is to discover where she has gone. If you like I'll go roundto the _Royal Palace Hotel_ at once and see if she has returned. I'llask the clerk in the office, and if he says she has returned, you maysafely bet that those stones are back in the hotel safe again. If shehas not returned, they are still on her person. "

"It's just as well to make sure, " Reggie said reflectively. 

The woman flitted away and came back soon with a smile on her face. 

"So far, so good, " she said. "The lady has not returned to the hotel. Now, Mr. Richford, if you can only put us on the track of the timidlittle hare, then----"

"Done with the greatest possible ease, " Richford replied. "She's gone toWandsworth. I can't make the thing out at all, and in any case it doesnot in the least matter. When I was waiting for my wife just now I saw aletter to her from Berrington, --Colonel Berrington. As you know, he is aprisoner in Audley Place, and why he should have written that letter, orhow Sartoris persuaded the warrior to write it, I don't know any morethan Adam. But that's where she has gone. If you can intercept herbefore she gets there, or waylay her when she leaves, why there you are. I don't suppose my wife will tell Sartoris that she has all that stuffin her pocket. "

"Do you think that she took a cab?" Reggie asked. 

"I should say not. Cabs cost money, and Beatrice has not much of that. Wandsworth is not a place you can get to in ten minutes, especiallyafter the business trains have ceased running for the evening; so thatif you took a cab----"

Reggie jumped to his feet excitedly. 

"No use wasting time here, " he said. "Come along, Cora. I'll justscribble a few lines on one of my cards, so that you can be safe atEdward Street. There you are. And if I don't get those stones beforebedtime, why I'm a bigger fool than the police take me for. "

Thrilling with excitement, Mary followed the others into the street. Shesaw the two get into a cab, and she proceeded to take one herself. Thecabman looked at her dubiously as he asked where he was to go to. 

"No. 100, Audley Place, Wandsworth Common, " Mary said. "If you get thereten minutes before the cab in front, I'll give you an extrahalf-sovereign. "

CHAPTER XXVII

Meanwhile the fates were working in another direction. Field hadstumbled, more or less by accident, upon a startling discovery. He had, it will be remembered, called upon the little actress to whom he hadrendered so signal a service on the night of the theatre panic, and whomin the heat and confusion of the moment he had failed to recognize, butnow he knew that he was face to face with the lady whom he had seen withSartoris at Audley Place. 

Field was not often astonished, but he gave full rein to that emotionnow. For he had made more than one discovery at the same time. In thefirst place he had found Miss Violet Decié, Sir Charles Darryll's ward, who proved at the same time to be the actress known as Adela Vane. Butthat was a minor discovery compared to the rest. Here was the girl whoat one time had been engaged to Carl Sartoris, and who was supposed tobe connected more or less with his misfortunes. 

Here was the girl, too, who might be in a position to supply the key tothe mystery. Undoubtedly, the backbone of the whole thing was the desirefor money. Sir Charles Darryll and his friend Lord Edward Decié had beenengaged in some adventurous speculation together in Burmah. They haddoubtless deemed that speculation to be worthless, but Carl Sartoris hadfound that they were mistaken. Therefore, trusting to his changedappearance and his disguise, he had asked his old sweetheart to callupon him. The conversation that Field had overheard in the conservatorywas going to be useful. 

The curious questioning look in the girl's eyes recalled Field tohimself. He had instantly to make up his mind as to his line of action. Miss Decié, to give her her proper name, gave the inspector a littletime to decide what to do. 

"How can I ever sufficiently thank you?" she asked. "Really, I could notsleep all night for thinking about the horror of the thing and yourbrave action. It was splendid!"

"Not at all, " Field said modestly. "I am accustomed to danger. You see Iam a police officer, a detective inspector from Scotland Yard. It is alittle strange that I should have been able to do you a service, seeingthat I came to the theatre on purpose to see you. "

The girl's eyes opened a little wider, but she said nothing. 

"Perhaps I had better be quite candid, " Field went on. "I want you tohelp me if you can. "

"Most assuredly. After last night, I will do anything you like. Pray goon. "

"Thank you very much, " Field replied. "It is very good of you to make mytask easier. You see I am closely connected with the inquiry into thesudden death of Sir Charles Darryll and the subsequent startlingdisappearance of his body. Were not your father and Sir Charles greatfriends in India long ago? Do you recollect that?"

The girl nodded; her eyes were dilated with curiosity. Field could notfind it in his heart to believe that she was a bad girl. 

"They had adventures together, " she said. "They were going to make afortune over some mine or something of that kind. But it never came toanything. "

"You are absolutely sure of that?" Field asked. 

"Well, so far as I know, the thing came to nothing. Some man wasemployed to make certain investigations, and he reported badly of thescheme. I only heard all this talk as a child, and I was notparticularly interested. You see, I knew very little of Sir Charles, though he was my guardian. There were certain papers that he depositedwith a solicitor who used to get him out of messes from time to time, but really I am as ignorant as you are. "

"You don't even know the name of the solicitor?" Field asked. 

"I do now, " the girl said. "I found it among some letters. Do you knowthat a Mr. Sartoris, who claims to know my father and Sir Charles, alsowrote me on the same matter? He asked me to go and see him atWandsworth. He is a crippled gentleman, and very nice. He has a lovelyconservatory-room full of flowers. I was at his house only last night, and he talked to me very much the same way as you are doing. "

"I know that, " Field said calmly. "I was hiding in the conservatory andlistened. "

Miss Decié gave a little cry of astonishment. 

"Our profession leads us into strange places, " Field said. "I heard allthat conversation, so there is no occasion to ask you to repeat it. Youwill recollect saying that Mr. Sartoris reminded you of somebody thatyou knew years ago in India. Have you made up your mind who thegentleman in question does resemble?"

The girl's face grew white, and then the red blood flamed into hercheeks ago. 

"I have a fancy, " she said. "But are not these idle questions?"

"I assure you that they are vital to this strange investigation, " Fieldsaid earnestly. 

"Then I had better confess to you that Mr. Sartoris reminded me of agentleman to whom I was once engaged in India; I was greatly deceived inthe man to whom I was engaged; indeed it was a tragic time altogether. Idon't like to speak of it. "

"Loth as I am to give you pain, I must proceed, " Field said. "Was thegentleman you speak of known as a Mr. Carl Grey, by any chance. "

"Yes, that was the name. I see you know a great deal more than Ianticipated. I suppose you have been making investigations. But I cannotpossibly see what----"

"What this has to do with the death of Sir Charles Darryll? My dearyoung lady, this is a very complicated case; at least it looks like oneat present, and its ramifications go a long way. I want to know all youcan tell me about Carl Grey. "

"I can tell you nothing that is good, " the girl said. She had risen fromthe chair and was pacing up and down the room in a state of considerableagitation. "There was a tragedy behind it all. I don't think that Ireally and truly loved Carl Grey; I fancy that he fascinated me. Therewas another man that I cared more for. He died trying to save my life. "

Field nodded encouragement; a good deal of this he knew already. 

"Let me make it easy for you if I can, " he said. "I have found out agreat deal from a little conversation, part of which I overheard betweenColonel Berrington and Miss Mary Grey, or Miss Mary Sartoris, which youlike. There was a mysterious affair, but it resulted in the death ordisappearance of the other man and the permanent crippling of Carl Grey. Am I misinformed, or is this practically the case?"

"I cannot see what this has to do with Sir Charles Darryll, " VioletDecié said slowly. 

"Pardon me, but it has a great deal to do with the case, " Field replied. "If you knew all that I do you would not hesitate for a moment. If youcare to write it down----"

The girl stopped in her restless walk; her eyes were heavy with tears. 

"I'll tell you, " she said. "I must not forget that I owe my life to yourbravery. As I said before, I was engaged to Carl Grey. But for hissister I don't think that I should ever have consented. But there itwas, and I loved another man at the time. And the other man loved me. There was a deal of jealousy between the two, and I was frightened. CarlGrey was always queer and mysterious; he was ever seeking to penetratethe mysteries of the East. Strange men would come to his bungalow lateat night, and I heard of weird orgies there. But I did not see anythingof this till one day when I was riding on the hills with Mr. Grey. Wehad a kind of quarrel on the way, and he was very difficult that day. Wecame presently to a kind of temple in ruins, which we explored. Therewas a vault underneath, and Mr. Grey pressed me to enter. It all seemslike a dream now; but there were natives there and some kind of ceremonyprogressing. The air of the place seemed to intoxicate me; I seemed tobe dragged into the ceremony, Mr. Grey and I together. Somebody dressedme in long white robes. Even to this day I don't know whether it was adream or a reality. Then there was a disturbance, and the other man camein; I do not recollect anything after but blows and pistol shots; when Icame to myself I was in the jungle with my horse by my side. From thatday to this I have never seen or heard of Mr. Grey, and I never againbeheld the man I loved, and who gave his life to save me. "

Field listened patiently enough to the strange story. He had yet a fewquestions to ask. 

"You think that Mr. Grey had been initiated into the mysteries of thoserites?" he asked. "And that his idea was to initiate you into themalso?"

"I think so, " Violet Decié said with a shudder. "There are such strangeand weird things in the East that even the cleverest of our scholarsknow nothing of them. An old nurse used to tell the most dreadful tales. Perhaps the man who died for me could have explained. I presume that hefollowed me, expecting mischief of some kind. "

"I dare say he did, " Field replied. "Did an explanation follow?"

"No. I declined to see Mr. Grey again. I heard that he had met with anaccident; they said that he was maimed for life. And people blamed mefor being callous and heartless. As if they knew! Even Mr. Grey's sisterwas angry with me. But nothing could induce me to look upon the face ofthat man again, and I left Simla soon afterwards. "

"And that is all you have to tell me?" Field asked. 

"I don't think there is any more. It is rather strange that this thingshould crop up again like this, so soon after I have been to see Mr. Sartoris, who reminded me so strangely of Carl Grey. Only of course, Mr. Sartoris is much older. "

"I fancy there is not so much difference between their ages, " Field saidgrimly. "You see, a clever disguise goes a long way. And you say thatyou never saw Mr. Grey after that supposed accident. A thing like thatchanges people dreadfully. "

The girl looked up with a startled expression in her eyes. 

"You don't mean to say, " she faltered. "You don't mean to suggestthat----"

"That Mr. Grey and Mr. Sartoris are one and the same person, " Field saidquietly. "My dear young lady, that is actually the fact. Mr. Sartorisknew or thought that you could give him certain information. It wasnecessary to see you. The name of Sartoris would convey nothing to you, and in that interview the man was right. But you might have recognisedhim, and so he disguised himself. I saw the disguise assumed; I saw youcome into the room amongst the flowers. And long before you had finishedwhat you had to say I began to see the motive for what looked like apurposeless and cruel crime. But you were certainly talking to Carl Greylast night. "

The girl shuddered violently and covered her face with her hands. Thewhole thing had come back to her now; she blushed to the roots of herhair as she realised that she had kissed the man that she only thoughtof with horror and detestation. 

"If I had known, no power on earth would have induced me to enter thathouse, " she said. "That man seems to be as cruel and cunning as ever. But why should he have had a hand in the stealing of the body of SirCharles Darryll?"

"We will come to that presently, " Field said drily. "Sartoris wantedcertain information from you, the address of a lawyer or something ofthat kind. You were not quite sure last night whether or not you couldfind the information. Did you?"

"Yes, " Violet Decié said. "I found it in an old memorandum book ofmine. "

"And you were going to post the address to Mr. Sartoris?"

"I am afraid the mischief is done, " the girl said. "It was posted earlythis morning. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

Hot words rose to Field's lips, but he managed to swallow them just intime. He could have wished that the girl had not been quite sobusinesslike in her methods. 

"I suppose that can't be helped, " he muttered. "Though it certainlygives the enemy a better start. I hope you have not destroyed theaddress of that lawyer?"

"Oh, no, " Violet cried. "It is in my old memorandum book. Perhaps youhad better take a copy of it for your own use. I have no doubt that myletter has been delivered at Wandsworth by this time, but as Mr. Sartoris is a cripple----"

Field was not quite so sure on that point. Sartoris, it was true, was acripple, but then Field had not forgotten the black hansom and theexpedition by night to the _Royal Palace Hotel_. He felt that Sartoriswould not let the grass grow under his feet. From the memorandum book hecopied the address--which proved to be a street in Lincoln's Inn Fields. 

"Evidently a pretty good firm, " Field muttered. "I'll go round there atonce and see Mr. George Fleming. But there is one thing, you will besilent as to all I have told you. We are on the verge of very importantdiscoveries, and a word at random might ruin everything. "

Violet Decié said that she perfectly well understood what she had to do. 

"Sartoris may try to see you again, " Field continued. "If he does, donot answer him. Pretend that you are still ignorant; do nothing toarouse his suspicions. Perhaps it would have been better if I had toldyou nothing of this, but I fancy that I can trust you. "

"You can trust me implicitly, " the girl said eagerly. "If it is to harmthat man----"

She said no more, and Field perfectly understood what her feelings were. By no means displeased with his morning's work he started off in thedirection of Lincoln's Inn Fields. He was pleased to find that the firmof George Fleming & Co. Occupied good offices, and that the clerkslooked as if they had been there a long time. It was just as well not tohave a pettifogging lawyer to deal with. Mr. Fleming was in, but he wasengaged for a little time. Perhaps the gentleman would state hisbusiness; but on the whole Field preferred to wait. 

He interested himself for some little time behind the broad page of the"Daily Telegraph, " until at length an inner door marked "private" openedand a tall man with grey hair emerged, with a crooked figure dragging onhis arm. Field looked over the paper for a moment, and then ducked downagain as he saw Carl Sartoris. Evidently the cripple had lost no time. He was saying something now in a low and rasping voice to the lawyer. 

"My dear sir, there shall be no delay at all, " the latter replied. "I ambound to confess that that deed has made all the difference. I alwaystold Sir Charles that that property was valuable. But he would neversee it, and if he had, where was the capital to work it? But why henever told me that he had made the thing over to you----"

"Did he ever tell anybody anything that facilitated business?" Sartorislaughed. "I daresay he forgot all about it, poor fellow. "

Sartoris shuffled painfully out of the office with the help of thelawyer, and got into a cab. A moment later and Field was in the inneroffice with Mr. Fleming. He produced his card and laid it on the tableby the way of introduction. 

"This is the first time I have been honoured by a detective in all mylong experience, " the lawyer said as he raised his eyebrows. "I hopethere is nothing wrong, sir?"

"Not so far as any of your clients are concerned, sir, " Field replied. "As a matter of fact, I am the officer who has charge of theinvestigation into the strange case of Sir Charles Darryll. And I ampretty sure that the lame gentleman who has just gone out could tell youall about it if he chose. I mean Mr. Carl Sartoris. "

The lawyer again raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. 

"I see you have no disposition to help me, " Field proceeded. "But justnow Mr. Sartoris made a remark that gives me an opening. He came to youto-day with a deed which, unless I am greatly mistaken, purports to bean assignment of property from Sir Charles to Mr. Sartoris. And thatproperty is probably a ruby mine in Burmah. "

"So far you are quite correct, " the lawyer said drily. "Pray proceed. "

"I must ask you to help me a little, " Field cried. "Let me tell you thatCarl Sartoris was in the scheme to obtain possession of the body of SirCharles Darryll. He was the lame man who was in the black hansom. I havebeen in that fellow's house, and I have seen the body of Sir Charles, unless I am greatly mistaken. "

"Then, why don't you arrest that man?" the lawyer asked. 

"Because I want the whole covey at one bag, " Field said coolly. "Now, sir, will you let me see the deed that Carl Sartoris brought hereto-day? Yesterday he did not know of your existence. "

"He has been going to write to me for a long time, " Fleming said. 

"I am prepared to stake my reputation that Carl Sartoris never heardyour name till this morning, " Field said coolly. "I can produce awitness to prove it if you like. My witness is Miss Violet Decié, onlydaughter of Lord Edward Decié of that ilk. "

The lawyer's dry, cautious manner seemed to be melting. He took up asheet of parchment and read it. It was a deed of some kind, in which thenames of Charles Darryll and Carl Sartoris figured very frequently. Field asked to be told the gist of it. 

"An assignment of mining rights, " Fleming explained. "A place in Burmah. It was a dangerous place to get at some time ago, but things havechanged recently. At one time certain Burmese followed Sir Charles aboutand threatened his life unless he promised to let the thing drop. ButSir Charles had assigned all his interest for the sum of five hundredpounds paid to him by Mr. Carl Sartoris. Here is the signature. "

The deed looked regular enough. Field looked closely at the signature ofSir Charles. 

"Of course it would be easy to get the body of the deed written by aclerk, " he said with a thoughtful air. "If there was anything wrongabout the thing, the false note would ring out in the signature. Are yousure that it is genuine?"

"Quite, " the lawyer said with conviction. "I'll show you some oldletters of poor Sir Charles if you like. The signature is a littlepeculiar in the respect that it has a long loop to the first l, and ashort loop to the second. That appears in every signature. Besides thereis that little flourish over the C. The flourish really forms theinitials 'C. D. ' Can't you see that for yourself? Leave out ever solittle of the flourish, and the 'C. D. ' disappears. "

Field was fain to be satisfied, though he was a little disappointed too. The pretty little theory that he had been building up in his mind hadbeen shattered. 

"I suppose I shall have to give way on that point, " he said. "Only itstrikes me as strange that a man should have allowed this matter to liefor three years without making use of it. Unless, of course, SirCharles's death made all the difference. Allow me. "

Field's eyes began to gleam as they dwelt on the parchment. There was ared seal in the top left-hand corner, a red seal with silver paper letinto it and some small figures on the edge. 

"What do those figures represent?" he asked. "The figures 4. 4. '93, Imean. "

"The date, " Fleming explained. "Those stamped skins are forwarded fromSomerset House to the various sub-offices, and they are dated on theday they go out. The date-figures are very small, and only the legal eyegives them any value at all. "

Field jumped up in a great state of excitement. He had made an importantdiscovery. 

"Then this is a forgery, after all, " he cried. "4. 4. '93 means thefourth of April 1893, and the deed is dated three years ago. How are yougoing to get over that, sir? I take it, there are no mistakes in thedate?"

Even the lawyer was forced out of his calm manner for the moment. Helooked very closely at the red stamp through his glasses. It was sometime before he spoke. 

"You are quite right, " he said. "And as to there being a mistake in thedate, that is absolutely out of the question. You may be quite certainthat Somerset House makes no mistakes like that. It is mostextraordinary. "

"I don't see anything extraordinary about it, " Field said coolly. "Thatrascal, clever as he is, has made a mistake. Not knowing anything oflegal matters in these minor points, it has never occurred to him to seewhether these parchment stamps are dated or not. He simply bought a skinand got some engrossing clerk to make out the deed. Then he put in thedate, and there you are. "

"Stop a minute, Mr. Field, " Mr. Fleming put in. "There is one littlepoint that you have overlooked. I am quite prepared to take my oath tothe fact that the signature is genuine. "

Field stared at the speaker. He could find no words for the moment. Hecould see that Fleming was in deadly earnest. The silence continued forsome time. 

"Well, I thought that I had got to the bottom of this business, but itseems to me that I am mistaken, " Field admitted. "In the face of theevidence of forgery that I have just produced, your statement that thesignature is genuine fairly staggers me. "

"The deed purporting to have been executed three years ago has only beenexecuted a few days, or a few months at the outside, " Fleming said. "What I think is this--there must have been some reason why the deed wasdated back. Perhaps the old one was destroyed and this one copied fromthe other, and executed say a month or two ago. Would that not meet thecase? You see I am taking a legal view of it. "

"You are still sure of the signature?" Field asked. 

"Absolutely. On that head I do not hesitate for a moment. Whatever elsemay happen, I am positive that Sir Charles wrote that signature. "

Field scratched his head in a puzzled kind of way. It was some timebefore he began to see his way clear again. Then a happy thought came tohim. 

"If they are so particular at Somerset House, the fact may help us. Whenthose deed stamps are sold to the public, are the numbers taken, and allthat?"

"So I understand. But what do you want to get at? Yes, I think you areright. "

"Anyway, I'm on the right track, " Field cried. "If what I ask is a fact, then the people at the sub-office will be able to tell me the date thatparchment was sold. I see there is a number on the stamp. If I take thatto Somerset House----"

Field spent half an hour at Somerset House, and then he took a cab toWandsworth. He stopped at the Inland Revenue Office there and sent inhis card. Giving a brief outline of what he wanted to the clerk, helaid down his slip of paper with the number of the stamp on it and thedate, and merely asked to know when that was sold and to whom. 

He watched the clerk vaguely as he turned over his book. It seemed along time before any definite result was arrived at. Then the clerklooked over his glasses. 

"I fancy I've got what you want, " he said. "What is the number on yourpaper?"

"44791, " Field said, "and the date. "

"Never mind dates, that is quite immaterial, Mr. Field. You have us now. That stamped parchment was sold early this morning, just after theoffice was open--why, I must have sold it myself. Yes; there is nomistake. "

With a grim smile on his face, Field drove back to London. He began tosee his way clearer to the end of the mystery now. 

CHAPTER XXIX

The cab with Mary Sartoris inside jolted along behind the other one, andpresently Mary was greatly relieved to find that her horse was going thefaster of the two. She bitterly blamed herself now for her folly in notwaiting to see Beatrice, and still more so for trusting so important aletter in the hands of a mere servant. 

But it was idle to repine over the thing now. The mischief had been doneand the great thing was to repair it as soon as possible. As Mary's mindemerged from the haze in which it had been enveloped for the last fewdays, she began to see things more clearly. Now she realised that shehad no settled plan of action when she set out to see Beatrice. Shewould have had to tell her everything or nothing had they met, and shecould not have done this without making certain disclosures about herbrother. She saw now that it would have been far better to havedestroyed the letter and said nothing about it. 

But then Mary could not tell a deliberate lie of that kind, and CarlSartoris would have been pretty sure to have asked the question. He waspleased to regard his sister more or less in the light of a fool, but hedid not trust her any the more for that. 

Mary lay back in the cab and resigned herself to the inevitable. It wasgood to feel that she was leaving the others behind now, and her spiritsrose accordingly. If she could only get to Wandsworth before theprecious pair, she would be all right, provided always that Beatrice hadnot been in front of her. But as most of the trains were usually latethere was more than a chance of success in this direction. The girl wasnearing her destination now. She lifted the shutter on the top of thecab and asked if the other cab was at any distance. There was a queersort of a grin on the cabman's face, as he answered. 

"About five hundred yards, miss, " he said. "Something seems to have gonewrong with them. So far as I can see the cab has lost a tire. "

The other cab had stopped, and something like an altercation was goingon between the fare and the driver. 

Mary had not far to go now, and she decided that it would be safer towalk the rest of the distance. There was a little crowd gathering behindher and a policeman's helmet in the centre of it. Truly fortune wasplaying on her side now. 

It was not very far to the house; there it stood dark and silent, withno light showing in the garden in front. Mary felt pretty sure that shewas in time. Then the front door of the house opened, there was a sightof the hall in a blaze of light, and in the foreground the figure of awoman standing on the doorstep. 

Mary gave a groan and staggered back with her hand to her head. 

"What a piece of cruel misfortune, " she exclaimed passionately. "Anotherminute and I should have been in time. Why did I not drive up to thehouse? My over-caution has spoilt it all. I am sure that was BeatriceRichford. "

The door of the house closed and the figure of the woman disappearedinside. Mary had had all her trouble for nothing. Not only was Beatricemore or less of a prisoner there, but those thieves were pressing onbehind. What was the best thing to be done now, with Beatrice exposed tothe double danger? Mary racked her weary brains in vain. And in a fewminutes at the outside the others would be here. It seemed impossible todo anything to save Beatrice from this two-edged peril. Mary started asshe caught sight of a figure coming up the front garden. It was astealthy figure and the man evidently did not want to be seen. As hecaught sight of Mary he stopped. It was too dark to distinguish anythingbut his outline. 

"Beatrice, " the man said in a tone of deep relief. "Thank God, I havecome in time. "

Mary did not know whether to be pleased or alarmed. Evidently this manwas some friend of Beatrice who had obtained an inkling of her dangerand had come to save her. On the whole it seemed to Mary that she had anally here. 

"I am afraid you are mistaken, " she whispered. "I am not BeatriceRichford. But I am doing my best for the young lady all the same. Sheis----"

"Don't say that she is in the house?" the man said in a muffled tone. 

"Alas, that I can say nothing else, " Mary replied. "I was just too late. Mrs. Richford had just entered the doorway as I came up. If you willtell me your name----"

"Perhaps I had better, " the stranger said after a minute's hesitation. "I am Mark Ventmore; perhaps you have heard of me. "

Mary gave a little sigh of relief. She knew all about Mark Ventmore. Here indeed was a man who would be ready to help her. She drew a littlenearer to him. 

"And I am Mary Sartoris, " she said. "If you have heard of me----"

"Oh, yes, you are the sister of that--I mean Carl Sartoris is yourbrother. But surely you are altogether innocent of the--the strangethings that----"

"I am innocent of everything, " said Mary passionately. "I have wasted mylife clinging to a man in the faint hope of bringing him back to truthand honour again. I am beginning to see now that I am having my troublefor my pains, Mr. Ventmore. Suffice it for the present to say that Mrs. Richford stands in great peril. "

"Oh, I know that, " Ventmore said hoarsely. "I got that information fromBentwood, the scoundrel! At the instigation of Inspector Field, who haspretty well posted me on recent doings, I have been following thatrascal pretty well all day. We won't say anything about Berrington, whoI understand is more or less of a prisoner in your brother's house, because Berrington is the kind of man who can take care of himself. ButBeatrice is in peril--Bentwood told me that. The fellow's brains are ina state of muddle so I could not get the truth from him. It wassomething about a case of diamonds. "

"Yes, yes, " Mary said. "The diamonds that Mr. Richford gave his wife fora wedding present. Mr. Richford has got himself into severe trouble. "

"Richford is a disgraced and ruined man. The police are after him. "

"So I gathered. He is now in the disguise of an elderly clergyman, andat present he is----"

"Hiding in that house at Edward Street, " Mark cried. "I saw him withBentwood. But what has he to do with those diamonds?"

"Everything. I overheard the plot laid, " Mary proceeded to explain. "Mr. Richford went to his wife and demanded the diamonds. He wanted to raisemoney so that he could go away in comfort and luxury. He told his wifeexactly how he was situated. She refused to comply with the request onthe ground that the stones belonged to Mr. Richford's creditors. Thenunhappily, Mrs. Richford withdrew the diamonds from the custody of thehotel officials, being afraid that there would be a bother over them orsomething of that kind. Richford watched her do it. Then he met twoaccomplices who recently passed as General Gastang and Countess de laMoray, and the plot was laid. Mrs. Richford was to come here. "

"But in the name of fortune, why was she to come here?" Mark asked. 

"Perhaps I had better be a little more candid with you, " Mary sighed. "There is a scheme on foot between my brother and some of the gang togain possession of certain papers that belonged to Sir Charles Darryll. There are keys, too, which Mrs. Richford is known to possess. I don'tquite know what the scheme is. "

"Anyway I can give a pretty good guess, " Mark said. "My father has beenvery ill and he sent for me. We have not been very good friends, myfather and I, because I turned my back on the city for the sake of art. But all that is past now, and we have become reunited. My father seemsto know a great deal about Sir Charles's affairs--something about a rubymine or something of that kind. Anyway, I'm to get my information fromMr. Fleming, who is my father's solicitor. But I am afraid that I aminterrupting you. "

"There is not much more to tell, " Mary went on. "Colonel Berrington wasinduced to write a letter to Mrs. Richford asking her to come here andsee my brother. "

"Berrington must have been mad to think of such a thing!"

"No, he did it at my instigation. I managed to communicate with him andassure him that no harm should come of it. No harm would have come of itif I had only kept my head and done the right thing. But the factremains that Mrs. Richford is in there; she has those diamonds in herpocket and the thieves are on the track. It seems to me----"

Mary did not finish the sentence, for Mark held out a hand and pulledher behind a bush, just in time, as two other people came up the path. There was no occasion to tell either of the watchers that here were thepeople of whom they were talking. The man Reggie and the woman Cora werestanding on the doorstep whispering together. It was quite a still nightand the other two behind the bushes could hear every word that was said. 

"So far, so good, " the man was saying. "We've got here and we are prettysure that our bird is securely caged, but what next?"

"Wait our chance, " the woman said with a certain fierce indrawing of herbreath. "We can appear to have come here by accident, for instructions, anything. So long as Sartoris does not know about those stones we aresafe. When we get them----"

"When we get them, Richford can whistle for his share of the money, " theman said coolly. "By this time to-morrow we shall be in possession ofmore money than we have ever had before. I don't like this presentbusiness, it's far too dangerous. Unless we go so far as to murder thatfellow Berrington and get him out of the way----"

"Don't, " the woman said with a shudder. "I hate that kind of work. Anything clever or cunning, anything requiring audacity, I can do with. But violence!"

She shuddered again, and the man laughed softly as if greatly pleasedwith some idea of his. 

"There is going to be no more violence or anything else, " he said. "Thisgame has got far too dangerous. We'll change those stones into money andthen we'll quietly vanish and leave our good friend Sartoris to his owndevices. What do you say to that?"

"Amen, with all my heart, " the girl said. "The sooner the better. Butdon't forget that we have not yet settled on a plan of action. "

"Leave it to chance, " the man replied. "We have all the knowledge thatis necessary to the success of our scheme, and the girl knows nothing. She will not stay very long, it is getting late already. Suppose wepretend that we have a cab waiting to take us back to town, and supposethat we offer to give her a lift. Then that scent of yours----" Thewoman called Cora laughed and clapped her hands gleefully. It was anidea after her own heart. She patted her companion affectionately on theshoulder. 

"Come along, then, " she said. "Open the door with your latchkey. It'sgetting cold and I am longing for something to eat. This kind of thingmakes me hungry. "

The door opened and then closed again softly, and the conspirators hadvanished. With a gesture of anger Mark strode towards the house, Maryfollowing. 

"What on earth are you going to do?" she said anxiously. "Will you spoileverything by your impatience? If you only realized the dangers that liehidden yonder!"

Mark paused abruptly and bit his lip. The trouble was not over yet. 

CHAPTER XXX

Meanwhile, absolutely unconscious of the dangers that were rapidlyclosing around her, Beatrice took her way to Wandsworth. Richford hadbeen ingenious enough to see that Beatrice would go down by rail, as shehad very little money to spare, so that if they desired it, the twoconspirators could have got there before her. But there was no occasionfor that, seeing that Beatrice had the treasure in her pocket andSartoris was none the wiser. 

Richford would have gone far at that moment to spite Sartoris. He hadtried to play the latter false over the scheme that they had in handtogether, and Sartoris had found him out. The latter made it a rulenever to trust anybody, and he had been suspicious of Richford from thefirst. He had known exactly how Richford's affairs stood, he had seenthat a sudden blow dealt at him now would pull the whole structure downand ruin it for ever. And without the smallest feeling in the matter, Sartoris had done this thing. But for him Richford could have pulledaround again, as Sartoris had been aware. 

But Sartoris had had enough of his ally and in this way he got rid ofhim altogether. Richford dared not show his face again; he would have toleave the country and never return. Sartoris chuckled to himself as hethought of this. 

He was on extremely good terms with himself when Beatrice called. Shehad not given the letter from Berrington very much consideration, thoughshe was a little surprised at the address. Doubtless the matter hadsomething to do with her father, the girl thought. The mystery of thatstrange disappearance was getting on her nerves sadly. 

Rather timidly the girl knocked at the door of the gloomy looking house, which was opened after a pause by a little man in an invalid chair. Beatrice looked at him in surprise. She gained some courage from a quickglance at the hall with its electric lights and fine pictures and themagnificent flowers in pots and vases everywhere. It seemed to Beatricethat only a woman could be responsible for this good taste, and she tookheart accordingly. No desperate characters could occupy a house likethis, she told herself, and in any case a helpless little man in a chaircould not prove a formidable antagonist. 

"I hope I have not made any mistake, " she said. "If this is 100, AudleyPlace----"

"This is 100, Audley Place, Mrs. Richford, " the little man said. "Willyou be so good as to come this way and shut the door? I have beenexpecting you. "

"It was a letter that I received from my friend, Colonel Berrington, "Beatrice said. "He asked me to call and see him here. I hope he is notill. "

"I have not noticed any signs of illness, " Sartoris said drily. "I haveno doubt that the Colonel had very good reasons for asking you to comehere, in fact he did so to oblige me. The Colonel is out at present. Heis staying with me, being fond of the air of the place. I dare say hewill be back before you go. "

Beatrice nodded in bewildered fashion. In some vague way it seemed toher that her host was making fun of her, there was just a faintsuggestion of mockery in his tones. Was there any plot against her onfoot, Beatrice wondered. But nobody could possibly know of the diamondsin her pocket; besides, she had received the letter before she hadthought of removing those diamonds from the custody of the hotel people. Again, as to the genuineness of Berrington's letter she did notentertain the shadow of a doubt. Nobody, not even an expert, couldsucceed in making a successful forgery of the dashing hand-writing ofBerrington. 

"If you will come this way, " Sartoris said quietly, "we shall be morecomfortable. As the evening is by no means warm you will perhaps notobject to the temperature of my room. If you are fond of flowers, youmay admire it. "

A little cry of admiration broke from Beatrice at the sight of theconservatory room. She had forgotten all her fears for the moment. Gradually she let the atmosphere of the place steal over her. She foundthat she was replying to a lot of searching questions as to her past andthe past of her father, Sir Charles. No, she had no papers, nor did sheknow where to find those keys. She wondered what this man was drivingat. 

"I knew your father very well at one time, " he said. "I saw a great dealof him in India. In fact he and I were in more than one expeditiontogether. "

"What year was that?" Beatrice asked quite innocently. 

To her surprise Sartoris gave signs of irritation and anger. He turnedit off a moment later by an allusion to neuralgia, but Beatrice was notquite satisfied. Why did this man want the key of a certain desk, andwhy did he require a bundle of papers in a blue envelope therefrom?Beatrice resolved to be on her guard. 

"I will do what I can for you, " she said. "If you can come and see me. "

"I am afraid that is impossible, " said Sartoris, who had lapsed into hisbland manner once more. "I am sensitive of people's remarks and all thatkind of thing. I dare say you will think that I am morbidlyself-conscious, but then I have not always been a cripple. I was asstraight as yourself once. Fancy a little crooked figure like me in ahansom cab!"

Beatrice started violently. The words had recalled a painful time toher. She recollected now with vivid force that on the night of SirCharles's disappearance a little crooked man in a hansom cab had beenthe directing party in the outrage. 

The girl's instinct had led her swiftly to the truth. She felt, as sureas if she had been told, that this man before her was at the bottom ofthis business. She knew that she stood face to face with the man who hadstolen the body of Sir Charles Darryll. For a moment Beatrice foughthard with the feeling that she was going to faint. Her eyes dilated andshe looked across at the man opposite. He was lying back in his chairfeasting his eyes upon her beauty, so that the subtle change in thegirl's face was not lost upon him. 

"I seem to have alarmed you about something, " he said. "What was it?Surely the spectacle of a crooked little man like me in a hansom cab isnot so dreadful as all that. And yet those words must have touched upona chord somewhere. "

"It--it recalled my father to me, " Beatrice stammered. "The police foundcertain things out. They discovered the night my father disappeared thatoutside the hotel was a black hansom cab with a man inside who was acripple. "

"You don't mean to say that!" Sartoris cried. 

In his turn he had almost betrayed himself. He could have cursed himselfaloud now. As it was, he forced an unsteady smile to his lips. 

"I mean to say that the police are very clever at that kind of thing, "he went on. "But surely you would not possibly identify me or my remarkwith the monster in question! There are a great many people in this bigLondon of ours who would answer to that description. Now tell me, didthe police find anything more out?"

The question was eager, despite the fact that Sartoris imparted a laughinto it. But Beatrice was not to be drawn any further. She feltabsolutely certain of the fact that she was talking to the real culpritwho was picking her brain so that he could get to the bottom of what thepolice had discovered, with an eye to the future. 

"Really, I don't know, " the girl said coldly. "That is all that Ioverheard. The police I find are very close over these matters, and inany case they do not usually choose a woman as their confidant. You hadbetter ask Colonel Berrington. "

It was an unfortunate remark in more senses than one. Beatrice did notquite realize how quick and clever was the man to whom she was talking. If his instinct had told him much his cleverness told him more. Berrington was in the confidence of the police. And Sartoris hadimagined that the soldier was working out the problem on his own behalf. He had counted, too, on Berrington's affection for Mary to do as littleharm as possible. 

"I'll ask the Colonel, " he said between his teeth. "Oh, yes, I willcertainly do that. What are you looking at so closely?"

Beatrice had risen to her feet in her eagerness. She pointed to twocabinet photographs. 

"Those people, " she stammered. "Why, I know them. They call themselvesCountess de la Moray and General Gastang. They were staying at the_Royal Palace Hotel_ the night of the tragedy. They pretended to know meand all about me. I am quite sure that they are actors in disguise. Butseeing that you know them----"

Sartoris turned away his face for a moment, so that Beatrice should notsee its evil expression. He cursed himself for his inane folly. But hewas quick to rise to the situation. 

"A very strange thing, " he said. "As a matter of fact, I don't knowthose people. But some friends of mine in Paris were their victims somelittle time ago, and they were anxious that the police here should bewarned, as the precious pair had fled to England. Perhaps they wereproud of this guise, perhaps their vanity impelled them, but they hadthose photographs taken and my friends got copies and sent them to me. They only arrived to-day or they would not be here. They will go toScotland Yard in the morning. "

Beatrice inclined her head coldly. She knew the whole thing was a quickand ready lie, and she could not for the life of her pretend to believeit. She buttoned her jacket about her and stood up. 

"I will not detain you any longer, " she said. "If I can find what youdesire I will let you know. I can find my own way to the door. "

"Wait till Berrington returns, " Sartoris urged. "He will not be long. Heis not in the house yet, but he will be sorry he has missed you. "

Beatrice stood before the glass putting her hat on straight. She couldsee over her shoulder in the direction of the door, and there in thegloom with his finger to his lips stood Berrington. There was just asuggestion of surprise in his eyes, surprise and annoyance, but the lookwhich he passed the girl was a command to keep herself well in hand. Themere fact that help was so near gave her a new courage. She smiled asshe turned to Sartoris. 

"Well, I am afraid that I must be going, " she said. "Please tell theColonel when he comes in that I am sorry to have missed him. He willunderstand that. "

There was the faint click of a key in the front door, and two peoplecame noisily into the room. They were a young and handsome man and anequally young and handsome woman, well dressed, smartly groomed, andwell bred. And yet, though they were strangers to Beatrice, they were atthe same time curiously familiar. The girl was trying to recall whereshe had seen them both before. 

"We are rather late, " the man said with a wink at Sartoris. "Businessdetained us. Yes, we are also rather hungry, having had no dinner tospeak of. Hullo, I say, look here. Do you mean to say that you are foolenough to keep our photographs in our very last disguise?"

Something like an oath broke from Sartoris as he glanced at Beatrice. The girl could not control herself for the moment; she could not hidefrom Sartoris and the others that she knew now that she was in thepresence of Countess de la Moray and General Gastang in their properperson. 

"Those are not your photographs at all, " Sartoris croaked. "As a matterof fact I only got them from Paris to-day. If you will----"

The speaker paused as Beatrice was stepping towards the door. All ofthem realised that she knew everything. Sartoris made a sign and the manReggie stood between Beatrice and the door. 

CHAPTER XXXI

Somebody was knocking quietly at the door, and Sartoris had made noeffort to move. That was the situation in which we left Sartoris andBerrington before Beatrice came. Nobody could have failed to notice thathe was greatly disturbed and agitated. With a feeling that he was goingto learn something, Berrington turned as if to leave the room. 

"I am going to save you the trouble of going, " he said. 

Sartoris clasped his hands to his head. He was still throbbing andaching all over from the ill effect of the treatment accorded him by theBurmese visitors. Berrington had come down in the nick of time and savedhim from a terrible fate, but Sartoris was not feeling in the leastgrateful. To a certain extent he was between the devil and the deep sea. Desperately as he was situated now, he could not afford to dismissBerrington altogether. To do that would be to bring the authorities downupon him in double quick time. True, Berrington, out of his deepaffection for Mary, might give him as much rope as possible. And again, Sartoris did not quite know how far Berrington was posted as to therecent course of events. True, Berrington suspected him of knowingsomething of the disappearance of the body of Sir Charles, but Sartorisdid not see that he could prove anything. 

But he did not want Berrington to go just yet, and he was still moreanxious that the Colonel should not know who was knocking at the door. Unless his calculations were very wide of the mark, it was BeatriceRichford who was seeking admission. Sartoris would have given much toprevent those two meeting. 

He smiled, though he was beside himself, almost, with passion. He seemedto have become very weak and impotent all at once. He would have tosimulate an emotion that he did not possess. Once more there came thetimid knock at the door. 

"Berrington, " he said desperately. "Do you believe that there is anygood in me?"

The question was asked in almost a pleading voice. But Berrington wasnot in the least moved. He knew perfectly well what he had to deal with. Again, the knock at the door. 

"I should say not a fragment, " Berrington said critically. "I should saythat you are utterly bad to the core. I have just saved you from aterrible fate which really ought to be a source of the greatest possibleregret to me, but you are not in the least grateful. When that knockcame for the first time, you looked at me with murder in your eyes. I amin your way now, I am possibly on the verge of an important discovery. If you could kill me with one look and destroy my body with another youwould do it without hesitation. And that is the reason, my good friend, why I am going to the door. "

"Don't, " Sartoris implored. He had become mild and pleading. "You arequite wrong--Berrington; I once heard you say that there was good ineverybody. "

"Generally, " Berrington admitted. "But you are an exception that provesthe rule. "

"Indeed I am not. There is good in me. I tell you and I am going to do akind and disinterested action to-night. I swear that if you interfereyou will be the cause of great unhappiness in a certain household inwhich I am interested. I implore you not to let your idle curiositybring about this thing. I appeal to you as a gentleman. "

In spite of himself Berrington was touched. He had never regardedSartoris as anything of an actor, and he seemed to be in deadly earnestnow. Was it just possible that the man had it in him to do a kindlything? If so it seemed a pity to thwart him. Berrington looked fairlyand squarely into the eyes of the speaker, but they did not waver in theleast. The expression of Sartoris's face was one of hopelessness, notfree altogether from contempt. 

"I can't say any more, " he said. "Open the door by all means, and spoileverything. It is in your hands to do so and curse your own vulgarcuriosity afterwards. Call me mad if you like, but I had planned to do akind thing to-night. "

"So that you may benefit from it in the end?" Berrington suggested. 

"Well, put it that way if you like, " Sartoris said with fineindifference. "But it does not matter. You can sit down again. Theknocker has gone, evidently. "

But the door sounded again. Sartoris turned aside with a sigh. Despitehis suspicions, Berrington felt that his conscience was troubling him. He would never forgive himself if he prevented a kind action being doneto one who cruelly needed it. He rose and crossed the room. 

"Let it be as you like, " he said. "I will promise not to interfere. Assoon as you have finished I should like to have a few words with youhere. After that I shall feel free to depart. "

Sartoris nodded, but the triumph that filled him found no expression onhis face. Berrington was no better than a fool, after all; a few fairwords had disarmed him. Sartoris would gain all he wanted and when thatwas done he would take good care that Berrington did not leave thehouse. The man was by no means at the end of his cunning resources yet. He moved his chair in the direction of the hall. 

"You have made a very wise decision, " he said. "And I thank you forhaving some confidence in me. Will you wait for me in the dining-room?"

Berrington intimated that he would go into the dining-room and smoke acigar. He was free to depart now, but he was going to do nothing of thekind. Sartoris was likely to be engaged for some time, and meanwhileBerrington was able to make investigations. He was desirous of findingout the secret of the dining-room, the way in which things were changedthere, and the like. Of course, it had all been done by human agency, and what one man can invent another can find out. There was not likelyto be a more favourable opportunity. 

Berrington stepped into the dining-room and closed the door behind him. But he closed it with his hand hard on the turned lock so that it shouldsound as if it had banged to, whereas, directly the handle was releasedit would fall open a little way. Berrington was not going to leaveanything to chance, and he had no hesitation in playing the spy. 

From where he stood he could hear the wheels of Sartoris's chairrattling over the parquet flooring of the hall, he heard the front dooropen, and the timid voice of a girl speaking. It did not sound like thevoice of anybody with evil intent, and just for an instant it occurredto Berrington that perhaps his suspicions had been misplaced. 

But only for an instant, until the voice spoke again. He had nodifficulty now in recognising the voice as that of Beatrice Richford. Berrington was a little staggered, for he had not expected this. He hadtotally forgotten the letter, but it came flashing back to his mind now, and Mary's promise that no harm should come of it. 

And yet Mary had either overestimated her powers or placed too low avalue on the cunning of her brother. At any rate, there could be nodoubt of the fact that the letter had been delivered, and that Beatricewas here in reply to it. 

"Very good, " Berrington said between his teeth. "I will see that no harmcomes of this thing. Beatrice has been brought here to be pumped as toher father's papers and the like. Still, thanks to my little adventureto-night I have a pretty good idea what these scoundrels are after. I'lljust go as far as the study and see that it is all right. "

Berrington slipped off his boots and crept along the hall. So far as hecould see all was quiet. There was a double door to the study, so thatBerrington could not hear much, but the inner door had not been closed. It was only necessary to swing back the baize door to hear all that wastaking place in the study. 

But Berrington decided that he would leave that for the present. Itmattered very little what Sartoris said to Beatrice, for the gist of theconversation could easily be gathered from the girl on some futureoccasion. But opportunities for examining that strange dining-room didnot offer themselves at every hour, and Berrington made up his mind tomake the best of it. He pulled on his boots again, and set to work. 

For some time there was nothing to reward his search. The carpetappeared to be intact, the table a solid structure of mahogany. And yetthere must be some means of moving that table up and down, much in thesame way as the thing used to be done in the case of a certain Frenchking and the lady of his affections. 

But there was absolutely nothing here to show that anything of the kindhad been done. Berrington removed the flowers and the table cloth andlooked underneath. So far without success. He rapped in a reflective wayon the solid legs and they gave back a clear ringing sound. With a smileof satisfaction, Berrington took a pocket knife from his vest. 

Then he bent down and slightly scraped one of the solid-looking legs. The edge of the knife turned up and a thin strip of bright gold showedbeneath the vanish. The first discovery had been made. The legs of thetable were of hollow metal. 

There was something to go on with at any rate. Dining tables do not havelegs made of hollow metal for nothing. Berrington tried to push thetable aside, so that he could tilt it up and see the base of the legs, but the structure refused to budge an inch. Here was discovery numbertwo. The table was bolted solidly into the floor. 

"We are getting on, " Berrington whispered to himself. "It seems to methat I need not worry myself any further about the table itself, seeingthat, so to speak, it is attached to the freehold. It is the floor thatI have to look to. "

But the floor appeared to be quite intact. There were no seams along theTurkey carpet. Berrington turned the carpet back as far as it would go, but nothing suspicious presented itself to his searching eye. As hedropped the carpet back his foot touched the curb of the fireplace, andone end slid along. It seemed a curious thing that one end of the oldoak curb should work on a pivot, but so it did, and Berrington pushed itas far as it would go. An instant later and he jumped nimbly into thefireplace. 

It was just as well he did so, for the whole floor was slowly fadingaway, just up to the edge of the carpet, leaving the brown boards aroundintact. By accident more than anything else Berrington had stumbled onthe secret. The pressure of a foot on the curb had set some hidden leverin motion; the clever machinery was doing the rest. 

Standing in the fireplace Berrington watched for the effect. The floorsank away as if working on a pivot; it came around with the other sideup, and on the other side was a carpet quite similar to the first inpattern. There was also another table which came up on a swingingbalance so that everything on it would not be disturbed. 

"Well, this is a pretty fine Arabian Nights' form of entertainment, "Berrington muttered. "I wonder if I can keep the thing half suspendedlike that whilst I examine the vault beneath. I suppose if I push thelever half back it will remain stationary. That's it!" The lever beingpushed half back caused the machinery to lock so that the floor was allon the slant. There was a kind of space below which appeared to be pavedand bricked like a well. Into this the full rays of the electric lightshone. It was easy to jump down there and examine the place, andBerrington proceeded to do so. 

So far as he could see there was a heap of old clothes huddled togetherin a corner. In an idle way Berrington turned them over. A collar fellout from the rest and Berrington took it up--a white collar that hadbeen worn for some little time. Berrington started as his eye fell onthe name plainly set out in marking ink. 

"Great Scott, " he cried. "Why it is one of Sir Charles Darryll's!"

CHAPTER XXXII

Berrington was at a loss to know whether to be pleased or not at hisdiscovery. It might prove to be an important clue, on the other hand itmight point to more violence than Berrington had anticipated. It was notan old collar, as Berrington could see by the date of it; apparently ithad only been worn once, for there was no laundry mark upon it, thoughit was dirty, more dirty than a fastidious man like Sir Charles wouldhave used. 

There was absolutely nothing further to be seen in the vault, soBerrington climbed thoughtfully out of it again. He readjusted thefloor, for he had no wish for his handiwork to remain. He would wait nowfor Beatrice to emerge and see her safely on her way home. A littlelater on, perhaps, and he would have a great deal of useful informationto impart to Inspector Field. 

He opened the door of the dining-room and listened. It seemed to himthat the voices in the study had been raised a little. If he could giveBeatrice a warning he would do so. Very quietly he pushed back theswinging baize door and looked in. At the same moment Beatrice wasadjusting her hat before the mirror. Their eyes met and Berrington wassatisfied. He had told Beatrice as plainly as if he had spoken in words, that he was close by and that she was to look to him for protection ifnecessary. That being so, he crept silently away again. 

It was a wise precaution, for the front door opened and two people camein, giving Berrington hardly time to get in the shelter of thedining-room. He was at no loss to identify the newcomers, for had he notmet them in that very room when he had discovered the gang who were moreor less instrumental in the disappearance of Sir Charles Darryll?

That the precious pair were after no good, needed no saying. Berringtongrimly congratulated himself on the fact that Sartoris had provided himwith a weapon which was in his pocket at the very moment. He wouldlounge in the vicinity of the study, and if anything happened, ifBeatrice called out for assistance or anything of that kind, he would bein a position to render efficient service. It was no part of his game toshow himself to these people without urgent reasons for so doing. 

He waited there while Beatrice was confronting the trio; she had madeher discovery, and the others were aware of the fact. Beatrice wasconscious that her heart was beating faster. She looked around for someavenue of escape. Then her courage rose again as she remembered thatBerrington was close at hand and ready to assist her. 

"I will not stay here any longer, " the girl said. "It seems to me that Iam in the way. Please to step aside and let me pass. Do you hear me?"

The man called Reggie grinned. He did not make the smallest attempt tomove from the door. He would have touched Beatrice had she not drawnback. 

"I do not desire to detain you, " he said. "Only you made a certainremark just now that calls for an explanation. You mean that this ladyand myself----"

"You know exactly what I mean, " Beatrice cried. She was getting angrynow, and the sneering smile on the face of Sartoris did not tend tosoothe her. "Out of your own mouth you have proved what I did notknow--that you are dangerous thieves. "

"Oh, indeed. Do you not know that such language is actionable?"

"I know that it is true, " Beatrice said coldly. "There are yourphotographs up there. Did you not say so only a moment ago? I am greatlyobliged for the information. "

The girl stepped across the room and removed the two photographs fromtheir places. Nobody interfered; as a matter of fact, they were allsecretly admiring the girl's courage. 

"These two faces I know, " she said. "That is Countess de la Moray, andthat is the man who called himself General Gastang. They were staying atthe hotel on the night that my poor dear father's body so strangelydisappeared. The Countess was so good as to extend to me her deepestsympathy; she asked me to go and stay with her in Paris. "

The woman called Cora laughed. The comedy of it appealed to her and shecould not help it. She was thinking of the easy way in which she haddeceived Beatrice. Something like an oath came from Sartoris. He had hisown very good reasons why Beatrice should be deceived in this matter. 

"I assure you that you are quite mistaken, " he said. 

"Indeed I am nothing of the kind, " Beatrice cried. "Now that I know thetruth, I can see the likeness plainly enough. I don't say that I shouldhave done so had I not had so strong a hint a little while ago, but youcannot disguise features out of recognition. And I say that those twopeople are no more than vulgar swindlers. "

Again the woman laughed, but the man's face grew dark. 

"You are very bold, " the man called Reggie growled. "If you have anyfriends near----"

It was on the tip of Beatrice's tongue to say that she had, but shewisely restrained herself. At the same time it was good to be remindedthat Berrington was close by and that perhaps he was listening to theconversation at the present moment. 

"I am stating no more than the truth, " Beatrice went on. "The so-calledCountess came to me and she pretended sympathy. She made me believe thatshe was an old friend of my father. Then she went away, leaving GeneralGastang to talk to me. I will tell you presently what she was going todo. I have been finding out things for myself. "

The woman did not laugh this time; there was an angry spot on eithercheek. 

"You are piquante and interesting, " she said. "Pray believe that I amlistening to you with the deepest attention. It is good to have one'sthoughts read for one in this fashion. "

"I was alone with the General, " said Beatrice, ignoring the last speakeraltogether. "Fortunately for me, the General recognized someacquaintance--probably a police officer--for he disappeared discreetlyand left me to myself and my suspicions. My suspicions led me to mybedroom presently, where I had left some extremely valuable diamonds. "

"The same that you have in your pocket at the present moment, " the womanCora exclaimed. "If----"

A furious oath rang out from the man Reggie. Just for a moment it lookedas if he were about to strike the incautious speaker. She reddened andgrew confused. Sartoris listened, with an evil grin on his face. Heseemed to be amused at something. 

"It is good of my friends to come here to-night, " he said. "So kind anddisinterested. I shall know how to thank them later on. Pray proceed. "

"In my bedroom was the Countess, " Beatrice cried. She was so staggeredto find that her possession of the gems was known to this couple thatshe could hardly proceed. "The Countess had evidently been overhaulingmy belongings. But I was just in time. "

"Call me a thief at once, " the woman burst out furiously. "Why don't youdo it?"

"As yet I have no legal proofs to justify me in so doing, " Beatricesaid. "But I have not the least doubt in my own mind. You were goodenough to come back and pretend that your maid was ill, and you weregood enough to let me smell that scent, so that you gave me a sleep thatrendered me insensible to the strange things that were taking place sonear me. "

"You seem to know a great deal, " the woman Cora sneered. 

"Indeed I do, " Beatrice went on. "I know that you were in my bedroomplanning some villainy with my husband; I know that you took waximpressions of the seals of my father's room; I know the part you bothplayed afterwards. Then you disappeared, leaving no signs behind. Butyou have been so kind as to confess your own identity. You will be welladvised to stand aside and let me pass. "

Just for a moment it looked as if Beatrice's audacity was going to carryher through. But it was Sartoris who interfered this time. His face hadgrown black; he had thrown aside all traces of amiability now. 

"You are a very clever young lady, " he said with a dry sneer. "A mostexceedingly and remarkably clever young lady. But you are too proud ofyour discoveries, you talk too much. You see, these good people arefriends of mine. "

"I know that, " Beatrice retorted. "But one thing I am certain of--hadyou known what was going to happen, those photographs would never havebeen left for me to see. You need not have been under the necessity oflying about them, and I should have gone away, never dreaming that I hadmet the Countess and the General again. "

"Do I understand that you drag me into your charge?" Sartoris demandedangrily. 

"Certainly I do, " Beatrice cried. Her blood was up now; anger had gotthe better of discretion. She was furious to feel that she had beenlured into a den of swindlers, and so all her sagacity and prudence hadgone to the winds. "Those people are accomplices of yours; the very liethat you told me proves the fact. And you, the lame man in the hansomcab----"

Beatrice got no further, for a howl of rage from Sartoris prevented morewords. The cripple wheeled his chair across the room and barred thedoor. 

"You shall pay for this, " he said furiously. "You know too much. Thatanybody should dare to stand there before me and say what you have saidto me----"

He seemed to be incapable of further speech. The man called Reggie bentover Beatrice and whispered something in her ear. She caught the wordsmechanically----

"Give me what you have in your pocket, " he said, "and I will see youthrough. Don't hesitate--what are a few paltry diamonds compared withyour life? For that is in danger, and far greater danger than you know. Pass those stones over, quick. "

But Beatrice was not going to be bullied like that. Above allthings--the knowledge stood out before her that Berrington was not faroff. She had only to call for assistance, and he would be by her side atonce. The girl's eyes dilated, but not with fear as the man imagined. 

"I am not so helpless as you imagine, " Beatrice said. "And you willnever get what you want unless you resort to violence. Now youunderstand me. "

The man smiled. He had an eye for beauty and courage, rogue though hewas. But he had to reckon with Sartoris, who seemed to be recovering hisself-possession. 

"What are you muttering about?" he asked suspiciously. "Ah, what wasthat? Did you hear it?"

The trio stood listening, quivering with excitement, tense in everylimb. With a loud cry Beatrice flung herself at the door and beat uponit madly. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

Field stood in the office of the Inland Revenue at Wandsworth with afeeling that he had got on the right track at last. And yet thisdiscovery, which he had no reason to doubt, opened up the strangestpossibilities before him. He was face to face with a theory thatstaggered him so greatly that he could not speak for a moment. And yethe wondered why the idea had not occurred to him before. 

"I suppose that you have not made any mistake?" he suggested. 

The clerk was properly indignant. He was not there for the purpose ofmaking mistakes, besides, he had all the particulars entered in hisbooks. 

"So that you can see for yourself, " he said. "Look here, if you doubtme. The entries tally absolutely with the figures you have on that slipof paper. If there is anything wrong----"

"There is something very wrong indeed, " Field admitted, "but that hasnothing to do with you. Do you do a large business in that kind ofstamped paper?"

"Well, rather, though not so large as we did. You see, those stampeddeeds are exclusively used by solicitors; practically, every legaldocument is a stamped paper. But, nowadays, a good many lawyers gettheir deeds engrossed on plain paper and send them to me to be forwardedto Somerset House for the stamping. "

"I see, " Field said, thoughtfully. "In that case, you would have lessdifficulty in recognizing anybody who purchased a parchment that wasalready stamped? I wonder if you recognized the man who bought the onewe are talking about?"

"Oh, yes, " came the ready reply. "The man's name is Acton. He is a lawstationer who does odd jobs for the different firms here. He is quitebroken down and shabby now, but I should say that at one time he was agentleman. You will see his business card hanging in a shop window atthe corner of Preston Street--a little news-shop on the right. "

"I am greatly obliged to you, " Field said. "I see the stamp is a twopound ten one. Was it paid for in cash or in the form of a note?"

"A note--a £5 Bank of England note. I recollect getting Acton to endorseit. "

Field smiled to himself. Everything seemed to be going in his favournow. He tendered five sovereigns across the counter and asked the favourof the £5 note in exchange, which was granted. The note had a blue stampon it to the effect that it had been issued by the Wandsworth Branch ofthe National and Counties Bank, and to that establishment Field wendedhis way. 

There a further piece of information awaited him. The note had been paidout the day before to a messenger who had come from No. 100, AudleyPlace, with a cheque drawn in favour of "self" by Mr. Carl Sartoris. Field could not repress a chuckle. Everything was going on as smoothlyas he could expect. 

"And now for Mr. Acton, " he said to himself. "I wonder if I dare buildmy hopes upon the theory that Sir Charles is--but that is out of thequestion. Still, there is that doctor fellow with his marvellousknowledge of Eastern mysteries. Hang me if I don't start from thathypothesis when I've got this thing through. "

It was an easy matter to trace Acton. Field found him in a dingybed-sitting-room, smoking vile tobacco and eagerly reading a sportingpaper. The occupant of the room turned colour when he caught sight ofhis visitor. The recognition was mutual, but Field did not commithimself beyond a faint smile. 

"I--I hope there is nothing wrong, " the occupant of the room stammered. 

"That entirely depends upon you, " Field replied. "So long as you tellthe truth----"

"I'll tell you nothing else, " Acton said. He had risen now and wasstanding with his back to the fire, a tall man with a pale face andmournful eyes. "Look here, Field, there is no use playing with the factthat you and I have met before. I was in a very different position then. Now I am a broken man with no ambition beyond a wish to live honestlyand to keep out of sight of my friends. I write a good hand, as youknow. I have served my time for forgery. But since that I have neverdone anything that is in the least wrong. "

The speaker's words carried conviction with them. 

"I am quite prepared to believe it, Mr. Acton, " Field said. "All I wantis a little information. Tell me, have you done more than one piece ofwork lately?"

"No. Only one. And that was just after ten o'clock to-day. A gentlemancame to me and said he was a lawyer who was just setting up here. "

"What sort of man was he?" Field asked. 

"Young and fair, with an easy assurance and manner. He had taken a housein Park Road--name of Walters. There is a kind of annex to the housethat at one time had been used for a billiard-room, and this was to behis office. I called upon the gentleman there by appointment. I didn'tgo into the house proper, but I saw that the blinds and curtains wereup. The gentleman gave me a £5 note and asked me to go to the InlandRevenue Office here and get a £2 10_s. _ stamp on a skin of parchment. When I got back he dictated a deed to me which I copied down for him. "

"Do you recollect what it was about?" Field asked. 

"Well, sir, I don't, except that it was some kind of assignment. Thenames I quite forget. You see, one gets to be rather like a machinedoing that kind of work. The gentleman paid me seven shillings for mytrouble and asked me to call upon him again. "

"And is that all you have to tell me?" Field asked. 

"Everything, Mr. Field, " Acton said. "I hope that you will not thinkthere is anything----"

"Not so far as you are concerned, certainly, " Field hastened to say. "Ihave only one more question to ask. Try and polish up your memory. Wasthere any date inserted in that deed?"

"I can answer that question without the slightest hesitation. There wasno date inserted in the deed. "

"'Um. The thing was so unusual that you were quite struck by the fact?"

"Not at all. Dates are never inserted in engrossed deeds. They are leftblank as to the day and the year. You see, there is so much delay in thelaw. Sometimes the deeds are not executed for months after they aresigned. If the date was filled in and a delay of two months took place, a new stamp would have to be purchased, and that means dead loss. Whereas if the date is not put in till the deed is signed, that expenseis saved. "

Field nodded his head in the manner of a man who is getting satisfactionfor his trouble. 

"Then the date was no doing of yours, " he said. "I fancy I'll run aroundand see the young lawyer friend of yours. After that I may have to askyou to accompany me to town. There is nothing for you to do besidesidentifying your own handwriting. Don't go out till I come back. "

Field hurried off to Park Road where at length he found the house thathe wanted. The curtains and blinds were up in the windows, but no amountof knocking seemed to arouse anybody inside. Not that Field wasdisappointed, for he had expected something like this. A few inquirieselicited the fact that the house was in the hands of Messrs. Porden &Co. , down the street, and thither the inspector repaired. Nobody hadtaken the house, he gathered, though a few people had been after it. 

"Have you had anybody to-day?" Field asked. "I mean early to-day? Atall, fair man with pleasant manners who gave the name of Walters?"

"Well, yes, " the house-agent admitted. "He came and asked for the keys;he left a card on my table, and here it is. It was early when he came, and the boy was the only one in charge of the office, so that thegentleman had to go over the house by himself. "

"He found that it did not suit him?" Field suggested drily. 

"No, he said it was too big for his requirements. He brought the keysback two hours later. "

"And didn't ask for any more, though you offered him the choice of manyhouses?" Field smiled. "But what about the blinds and curtains in thewindows?"

"Oh, they belonged to the previous tenant. You see, we had to put in anexecution there for rent. The landlord desired the fittings to remain. "

Field went away rather impressed by the cunningness of the dodge. Thewhole thing was theatrical and a little overdone, but it was clever, allthe same. A short time later, and Field was on his way to London withActon for his companion. 

Mr. Fleming was in the office disengaged and would see Inspector Fieldat once. He glanced at the latter's companion but said nothing. 

"I have been very successful, " Field said without preamble. "I have madesome important discoveries. For instance, I have found the gentleman whoengrossed that deed. It was engrossed early this morning at a house inPark Road, Wandsworth, by my companion. If you will show him the deed hewill be able to identify it at once. "

But Mr. Fleming did not do business in that way. He took two deeds andfolded them so that a portion of each could be seen. Then he laid themboth on the table and asked Acton to pick out the one that he had done. All law stationers' writing is very much alike, but Acton had not theslightest difficulty in picking out his. 

"That is the one, sir, " he said. "That is the one that I wrote to-day. "

Fleming admitted that the choice was a correct one. He spread out thedeed now and proceeded to examine it gravely through his glasses. "Didyou put in the date?" he asked. 

"No, sir, " Acton replied. "There was no date. That is a forgery. It isnot badly done, but you can see that it does not quite tally with thebody of the deed. Besides, the ink is slightly darker. Look at that 'e, 'too, in the word 'nine. ' I never write that kind of 'e'--you will notfind one like it in the body of the deed. "

Fleming was bound to admit that such was the case. Field thanked Actonfor the trouble he had taken, and dismissed him. Then he came back tothe office. 

"Well, sir, are you quite satisfied now?" he asked. "Is there anyreasonable doubt that----"

"No doubt that the deed purporting to have been signed so long ago wasonly written to-day. So far as that is concerned, you have proved yourcase up to the hilt, Field. Nobody is going to gain anything by thepublication of that deed. But there is one thing that sticks, and Icannot get it down at all--the genuineness of that signature. "

"It does look like a real signature, " Field admitted. "But you want tosuggest that Sir Charles came back from the grave to-day to write it? Iwonder if there is something new in the way of forgery--some meanswhereby a genuine signature could be transformed from one paper toanother without injuring the ink in the slightest. They say they cantake all the paint off a picture and place it on a new canvas without somuch as injuring a brush mark. That being the case, why couldn't it bedone with a man's signature?"

Fleming bit the end of his pen thoughtfully. 

"It may be possible that some cunning rascal has invented an entirelynew process, " he said. "But anyway, I'm prepared to swear to thegenuineness of this signature. There is only one other way to accountfor the whole business, and as a sane man who has long come to years ofdiscretion, I am almost afraid to mention it to a business man likeyourself. "

Field looked up quickly. 

"I have a little hesitation also, " he said, "because you may havelaughed at me. Is it possible, sir, that you and I have hit upon thesame theory?"

The two men looked at each other, and there was a long silence betweenthem. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

Field walked away thoughtfully from the office of Mr. Fleming. He was alittle pleased to find that the lawyer took the same view of the mysteryas himself. There was a great deal to be done yet. It was getting verylate indeed before Field made his way once more in the direction ofWandsworth. He had an important paper in his pocket, and he had givendirections for two of his most trusted men to meet him outside No. 100, Audley Place, by eleven o'clock. 

But those other men had other tasks to perform first, and they might besome time yet. With this knowledge in his mind, Field repaired to thegarden in front of the house and there decided to wait for developments. It was not a cold night, the bushes in the garden were thick, and Fieldfelt that he would be just as well there as anywhere else. His patiencewas not unduly tried. He chuckled slightly to himself as he saw Beatricearrive. He had a pretty shrewd idea what she was here for. 

"The old fox is not quite certain of his goal, " he told himself. "Hethinks he has got everything in his grip--that the forged deed will dothe mischief, but perhaps there are other papers. That is why he hassent for Mrs. Richford. We shall see. "

If Sartoris had known what reposed in Field's breast pocket he would nothave been quite so easy in his mind. But he did not know it, and Fielddid not know what was transpiring inside the house. He waited a littlelonger till Mary Sartoris came up. She seemed to be greatly agitatedabout something; she stood in the garden hesitating. A little later, andshe was joined by Mark Ventmore. Field was glad to see so valuable anally here. 

From his hiding-place Field could hear all that passed. It was asatisfaction to be able to gather up such a deal of information. Richford would have to come into the net presently, and Richford was inEngland, which was more than Field had expected. Of course, witheverybody else, he had heard of the famous diamonds that Richford hadgiven to his wife, and supposed that before now the diamonds had beenturned into money. Into funds, Richford would have had a good chance ofgetting away; as it was, he must still be in London. 

"So that fellow is still here, " Field chuckled. "Did she say EdwardStreet? The very house that I have my eye on. We will bag all the birds. Hullo, here come some more!"

Mark and Mary Sartoris drew back as the man and woman respectivelycalled Reggie and Cora came up. They had their listeners, but they didnot know it. Perhaps, if they had, they would not have made their plansquite so openly. As it was, they had laid bare the whole of their newscheme to the quickest ears in London. Field slipped from hishiding-place as Reggie and Cora closed the front door behind them. Marygave a little scream. 

"There is no occasion for alarm--at least, as far as you are concerned, Miss Sartoris, " Field said. "I have heard everything that those peoplesaid. "

"This is Inspector Field of Scotland Yard, " Mark said. 

Mary's lips quivered, but she said nothing. Her own instincts told herwhat Field was doing here. She had always felt that the bubble mustburst some day--she had always known that her noble efforts werealtogether in vain. And yet she would have gone on sacrificing herselfto save Carl Sartoris from the fate that was inevitable. 

"Are you down here on any special business?" Mark asked. 

"On business connected with the disappearance of Sir Charles Darryll andother matters, " Field said. "The one thing contains the other. But youneed not have the smallest apprehension for the safety of Mrs. Richfordand her diamonds. She is not going to lose them. "

"How did you know that she had those diamonds in her pocket?" Maryasked. 

"You forget that I have been hiding here, " Field explained. "Likeyourself, I heard every word that passed just now. Every moment I expectto have two of my most trusted men here. Directly those two emerge fromthe house and get into the road, they will be arrested. In my business Ioften find that when you are looking for one bird you frequently findanother. Mr. Reggie and Miss Cora are old friends of mine and the Parispolice. They are very clever at disguises; they work together, she as acountess, and he as a general officer. Both of them were on the stageand both would have made very good names, but the honest _rôle_ was toodull for them. You may rest assured that those two will be out of theway before daylight. "

Mary listened with mixed feelings. She felt that in a measure she wasmainly responsible for what was going to happen. It looked as though itwould be an eventful evening. 

"Well, we can't stand here all night, " Mark said impatiently. He wasvaguely frightened for Beatrice, in the house with those rascals. "I canhelp you. You and I together would be a match for the lot of them. Whatdo you say to try?"

But Field had no feeling that way at all. The cool, shrewd officer didnot rush things in that fashion. He had his birds secured and he couldafford to wait. 

"I cannot possibly permit you to interfere with my plans, sir, " he saidcoldly. "You must recollect that I am responsible to the authorities, and that I have my reputation to think of. In my pocket I have a warrantfor the arrest of certain people, and that being the case----"

"For my brother! for Carl Sartoris?" Mary gasped. "Oh, is that reallyso?"

"It would be no kindness to conceal the fact, " Field said in a gentletone. "No, I cannot permit you to enter the house. The thing isabsolutely inevitable, and you could not possibly prevent it. A cripplelike your brother could not escape me, and any hasty action of yoursmight mean the escape of the other two. I am exceedingly sorry, MissGrey. "

Mary started as she heard her own name from the lips of the inspector. The expression told her that he knew everything. The blow had fallen atlast, as Mary always knew that it would fall, but it was none the lessbitter for that. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she said nothingfurther. Mark looked at her with distress in his eyes; he and Fieldexchanged glances. 

"This must be very painful to you, miss, " the latter went on. "Bystaying here you can do us no good--you are only giving yourselfunnecessary pain. Is there any house you can go to, any place where youcan stay for the night? A hotel?"

"I have no friends and no money, " Mary said through her tears. "Sincecoming to England I have given myself wholly to my brother. I have donemy best to make the path smooth for him and I have failed. It was nofault of mine that Sir Charles----"

"That Sir Charles was not warned, " Field said hastily. "Don't say anymore, please. Don't place yourself in such a position that I shall haveto call you as a witness. "

Mary swallowed down her choking sobs. Two figures stole across thestreet, and Field gave a low whistle. His two trusty subordinates hadcome at last. As they passed by the gate Field strode across to them andgave them their instructions. Mark turned to Mary. 

"Pray let me be your banker, " he said. "Let me provide the money so thatyou----"

"But I cannot, " Mary protested. "I dare not. You would never see themoney again, and like all good and generous people, you are as poor as Iam myself. "

"That remark may have applied to my affairs yesterday, but it certainlydoes not to-day, " Mark said eagerly. "I told you that I have been to seemy father who has been very ill lately. As he lay in bed, with nofriends to come and see him--for he has been a hard and selfish man--hegrew to see things in a different light. He sent for me. He was ratherimpressed by the tale that I had managed to do without his assistanceand that I was making a name for myself. I told him everything, and weare quite good friends again. He insisted upon making me an allowance of£1, 500, and as the thought of it did him good, I did not protest. Afterthat, will you let me help you? I know how good you are, and how youhave suffered. "

"I am more than grateful, " Mary said in a choked voice. "It is kind ofyou, but I cannot take any advantage of your offer; I must stay till theend. "

"And go through all the misery of it, " Mark protested. "You know thatall those people will sleep in jail to-night. Why should you witness thearrest? Let me take you to some quiet hotel and arrange for youraccommodation there. "

But Mary shook her head resolutely. She was not going to leave till shewas forced to. Mark ceased his pleadings as Field came back to them. 

"If you would only let me go into the house, " Mary said. "I have my ownkey, and I shall not make the slightest noise. They do not require me!if I put my head inside the study I should at once be ordered out again. Let me go to my own room. "

Field hesitated for a moment. It was not the first time he had met agood woman whose life was bound up with that of a criminal, and he hadexperience of what those women could do in the hour of peril. And yet hehesitated because Mary's prayer was passionate and sincere. But it wasonly for a moment, then he became a police officer again. 

"I could not allow it, " he said. "If it came to the ears of mysuperiors, I should suffer. And I have a wife and family to think of. In minutes of temptation such as you ask me to put before you, women arecapable of anything for the sake of those they love. Besides, you wouldnot have me do a thing that is wrong in the eyes of my employers?"

Mary was silent. Her own sense of justice showed her that Field wasright. But nothing would induce her to go away, so long as there wasanything like hope remaining. She might get a chance still to whisperone word of warning. And if it came she would not hesitate. She had notbeen placed on her parole so far. 

She turned away to wipe her shining eyes, and as she did so the dooropened and Berrington crept out. His face was full of excitement, hislips were white. 

"Glad to find you here, " he said. "I was going to try and find amessenger. I could not leave the house for very long, consideringthat----"

He paused significantly, with his eyes on Mary. Evidently Berrington hadmade some great and startling discovery, or he would not have been sodreadfully agitated. Even in the moment of her awful sorrow, Mary couldfind time to speak and think of others. 

"I am in a great measure responsible for this, " she said. "Philip, Beatrice Richford is in the house; she has a valuable parcel of diamondsin her pocket; those thieves there know it. Go to her assistance atonce; see that she is safe from harm. If anything happens to her I shallnever forgive myself. Why don't you go at once?"

"I am sorry, " Berrington stammered. He seemed quite dazed and confused. "I have no doubt that Mrs. Richford will be perfectly safe, seeing thatassistance is at hand. Indeed, I let her know that I was in the houseso that she should not be unduly frightened. But there are other mattersof far greater importance than that. Sir Charles Darryll----"

"I thought we should come to Sir Charles Darryll, " Field cut in swiftly. "But we need not discuss that matter here and now. Do you want me?"

Field asked the question with a strange ring in his voice. Berringtonwondered--he was rapidly regaining complete possession of himself. Hemoved towards the house. 

"In a few minutes, " he said. "Wait till I give you the signal. Thankgoodness, you were so close by. "

Berrington passed into the house again and closed the door behind him. 

CHAPTER XXXV

There was a thrill of excitement, an electric feeling in the air thatwas not lost to anyone of the little group standing there in thedarkness. That some momentous event was going to happen everybody knewwithout being told. Tacitly, it seemed to be understood that everythingwas in the hands of Inspector Field. 

Previously, on the arrival of his two men, he had sent one of them offwith hurried instructions of some kind. The other man stood by the gatelike a statue. Mark Ventmore, growing restless at last, turned to Fieldand asked a question. The inspector was wiping his damp hands upon hishandkerchief as if he himself was a thief waiting for arrest. 

"We are going to wait, " he said curtly, "and there is an end of thematter. "

Mark felt that he could not say any more after that. Mary was stillcrying softly to herself. The misery was with her yet, as she felt thatit would be to her dying day, but the agony of suspense was past. Ofwhat took place in that house from time to time she knew a great deal, but some things had been kept back from her. It was the vague feeling ofwhat might be that frightened her. 

Half an hour or more passed in the same tense, rigid silence, and yetthere was no sign from the house. A figure crossed the road and came upthe drive, making no more noise than a ghost. It was Field's manreturning. 

The inspector turned to him with an eager agitation that seemed strangeto him. 

"Well, " he asked, "have you anything definite?"

His voice sounded hoarse and strange. The other man touched his cap. Heseemed to hesitate before the presence of so many strangers. Field urgedhim on impatiently. 

"Don't be all night, " he said. "You can speak before the lady andgentleman. They don't know everything yet, but they will in the courseof a few minutes. Did you manage it?"

"Managed it all right, sir, " the misty figure in the big coat said. "Igot through on the telephone to the Southwark police and told them allthe particulars. They said that they would send round to Edward Streetwithout delay. "

"Of course you stayed to see that they had done so?"

"Of course, sir. It isn't a very far cry to Edward Street, so I waited. I asked the inspector in charge to telephone me directly the raid hadbeen made. "

"Oh, get on, man, " Field cried impatiently. "You're not in the witnessbox now grinding it out so that the magistrate's clerk can take it alldown in long hand. What I want to know is whether or not the raid waseffective. "

"To a certain extent, sir. They took the housekeeper, who doesn't appearto have had much to do with the matter, and an old gentleman who lookedlike a clergyman. So far, there was nobody else in the house. "

Field gave vent to something that sounded like a grunt of satisfaction. Mary said nothing, but she had a pretty shrewd idea who the clergymanwas. Field seemed to be fairly pleased. 

"So far, so good, " he said. "Are they going to send round the motor car?I shall be very glad to see our elderly clerical friend here. "

The officer indicated that everything would be done in accordance withField's desire. 

"There was one other man I wanted, " he said. "Not that one ever getseverything in cases like this. Unless I am greatly mistaken, there wasanother man in Edward Street, a tall man----"

"Called the doctor, " the officer said eagerly. "I know all about him, because they told me over the wire from Southwark exactly how the raidwas made. The housekeeper called to some 'doctor, ' but the policecouldn't find him. I expect he found some way of getting off. "

"He'll come here, " Field said emphatically. "He'll come if only to tellhis pals exactly what has happened. He'll come post haste in a cab. Ifhe does I shall bag the lot. This is going to be a fine evening's work. "

Seeing that nothing further was expected of him, the officer saluted andwent beyond the gate. Still there was no sign from the house, and thesilence and suspense were growing intolerable. Mark ventured to suggestthat something should be done. 

Field turned upon him with the fury of a tiger. By his anger he showedthat he, too, was feeling the strain of suspense. 

"Confound you, sir, " he said, "allow me to know my business best. Here Iam close to the solution of one of the strangest and most daring crimesof the century, and yet you are asking me to spoil it by the raw hasteof a schoolboy. "

"Perhaps I had better go, " Mark said. "Come with me, Miss Sartoris. Letus leave together. It will be better for you that way. "

"No, " Mary said gently. "I am greatly obliged to you, but I shall stay. "

"Both stay, please, " Field said in a gentler tone. "Mr. Ventmore, let memake you the most handsome apology in my power. I am afraid that thisthing has got a little on my nerves. You see, this is a great case, afar greater case than anybody is aware of. I only stumbled on the realtruth of it more or less by accident to-day. And if there is anythinglike a struggle, your help may be of value. "

Mark let the matter pass. He could quite understand Field's feeling. Another quarter of an hour slipped away; the road was now quitedeserted, so that the wheels of a coming cab could be heard a long wayoff. There was a little discussion between the cabman and his fare, followed by the banging of a door, and the heavy footsteps camestaggering up the street and a big man passed before the gate of No. 100, Audley Place. With a sign, Field motioned his companion to stealbehind the bushes. 

"One of our birds, unless I am greatly mistaken, " he said. "Yes, he iscoming this way. "

Mary held her breath now, for she did not fail to recognise thenewcomer. She could see from a casual glance that it was Bentwood. 

He came with a lurch and a stagger which proved his condition. He seemeda little suspicious at first, but the silence of the house, the steadygleam of the light over the fanlight, seemed to dispel any suspicions. Then he advanced more boldly to the door. As he stood on the bottomstep, Field emerged from his hiding-place. 

"Doctor Bentwood, " he said, "I fancy I am not mistaken. You will obligeme by taking your hand off the bell. Nobody will answer your ring. "

Taken aback for a moment, Bentwood stepped off the path. He bent andgripped Field by the throat. 

"You little beast!" he hissed. "I'll kill you. If you only knew who youare talking to!"

But Field was made of whipcord and steel. He slipped away from theother's grip and planted two or three body blows that caused Bentwood togroan aloud. Mark stepped out at once, but there was no need of hisservices. Field was all over his man by this time. As he clenched anddrove his left home, Bentwood came heavily to the ground. Before hecould stagger to his feet again, Field had the handcuffs on him. 

"It's an outrage, " Bentwood blustered, though his face was white now andhis big red cheeks shook like a jelly. "What does it all mean?"

"Case of Sir Charles Darryll, " Field panted. "We know all about that. Weshall have your friend Sartoris, in a minute, to say nothing of Reggieand Cora. If you tell us everything and make a clean breast of your partof it----"

"Shan't, " Bentwood said sullenly. "You can find out that for yourself. "

Field pursed his lips in a soft whistle. The two shadows by the gatecame up. 

"Keep him close by, " Field said. "He is just valiantly drunk now, butunless I greatly mistake my man, he will listen to reason shortly. Don'ttake him far away, as I may want to make use of him presently. I am gladthat he arrived on the scene before the motor came up. "

Again the tense silence fell on the group; once more they had to possesstheir souls in patience. Field appeared more cheerful and philosophical;the arrest of Bentwood seemed to have taken a heavy weight from hismind. He took out a cigarette and lighted it. Mark turned to Mary. 

"You are sure that you will not reconsider your decision?" he said. "Iwish that I could persuade you not to remain here. It has been quitepainful enough for you already, and you can do no good. Why should youwitness the final humiliation of it?"

Mary looked at the speaker; a grateful sigh came from her lips. 

"You are more than kind to me, " she said. "But I have drunk so deeply ofthe cup of humiliation that a draught more or less makes no difference. Heaven knows how I have tried to avert this thing, to ward off thedanger that I could not see. And yet all this time I knew that sooner orlater the blow would fall. Mr. Ventmore, how old do you take me to be?"

Mark could not say. It was rather an awkward question. 

"I see by your silence that you would rather not reply, " Mary said. "Itmeans that you would have a delicacy in calling me an old woman. And yetI am barely thirty. When I think what I was three years ago, it seems tome as if ages had passed. Of course, this is all silly talk, but I musttalk or go mad. "

"There is a happier time coming for you, " Mark said. 

"I know that. Once that blow has fallen, I shall regard myself as freeof my cares. And now, with that prospect before me, I would avert thecalamity if I could. And yet I have done my best and nobody could domore. "

Silence fell again, for Mark could not think of anything else to say. The silence was broken presently by the clang and snarl of a distantmotor car, and Field pitched his cigarette away. He seemed to havebecome good-humoured all at once. 

"That is good, " he exclaimed. "Our patience has been rewarded at last. Another few minutes and we will go and see what the house has in storefor us. There's the other man. "

The motor pulled up opposite No. 100, and two men got out--followed by athird in clerical costume. The latter seemed to be protesting aboutsomething. As he came up the drive Field stepped out, and the two menwho had engineered the motor car saluted. 

"You have done exceedingly well, " Field said in a pleased voice. "Youwill just stay where you are, because you may be wanted. So you havebrought the gentleman from Edward Street? I telephoned your chief tomake a raid on the place just now. "

"But this is an outrage, " the clerical figure said in a shaky voice. "Totake a gentleman from his lodgings in that way is something that eventhe police----"

"The police are prepared to accept all responsibility, " Field saiddrily. "There is one little matter that I have to clear up, and that isyour identity. As it is not a cold night you are not likely to sufferfor the want of your wig. "

Dexterously Field snatched away wig and hat and glasses, and Richfordstood exposed. He was about to say something when all attention wasarrested by a sound from the house. It was a clear, crisp sound, thering of a revolver shot. 

"Look to your prisoners!" said Field crisply. "I am going into thehouse. "

CHAPTER XXXVI

Meanwhile Berrington had stepped aside after having arranged to giveField the signal. And Berrington had made a discovery, the importance ofwhich it was impossible to overestimate. For the moment it had almostdeprived him of the power of thinking about anything else, but now itcame to him that Beatrice might be in some little danger. 

In the first place, the girl was in possession of a parcel of valuablediamonds, the possession of which the others knew of and coveted. Therascals were in a tight place now, and they would not stick at much tomake their escape. If they were short of funds the diamonds inBeatrice's pocket would come in useful. But Berrington, like the coolsoldier that he was, had decided not to spoil the thing by an eagerhaste. There was plenty of assistance outside, and besides, he had atrusty revolver in his pocket. He stood now in the hall where he was ina position to hear all that was going on. 

Beatrice had rushed to the door and beat her hands upon it. She waspulled away more or less roughly by the man called Reggie, but she didnot seem to notice it. 

"Am I mad or dreaming?" she said as she pressed her hands to herforehead. "I could have sworn that I heard a voice calling me, avoice----"

"All nonsense, " said Sartoris hoarsely. "You are overstrung, and yourimagination is too real for you. Did any of the rest of you hear avoice?"

The other two denied that they had heard anything. Beatrice broke outscornfully----

"It is a lie, " she said. "You all heard it. Everybody heard it. If not, why are you all so white, and why do you all look so curiously at oneanother?"

It was quite true, and Sartoris had no reply for the moment. He seemedto be struggling to regain his lost self-possession. Then he glanced atthe man called Reggie, who shrugged his shoulders. Sartoris was himselfagain by this time. 

"It was certainly an effect of the imagination, " he cried. "Let us talkof other things. My dear young lady, my friends here have been goodenough to betray the fact that you have a lot of valuable diamonds inyour pocket. Is that a fact?"

Beatrice scorned to lie, and now in any case it would have been useless. She looked from one to the other and wondered what had become ofBerrington. Berrington was listening outside the door and feeling thatthe time for him to interfere was close at hand. 

"It is exactly as these people say, " Beatrice admitted. 

"It is very good of them to take all this trouble, " Sartoris said in asulky voice. "Because of those stones in your pocket they are hereto-night. They followed you here, because they are both lovers of thatkind of thing. Out of purely disinterested motives, they had made uptheir minds not to tell me, but a little indiscretion on the part of myfair lady prevented that silent policy from becoming a success. "

"What's all this about?" Cora asked uneasily. 

"Why ask?" Sartoris said with contempt. "So that was your game, eh? Fillyour own pockets and leave the rest of us to look after ourselves. Gooff together and try the air of South America once more, you reptiles!"

The other two said nothing. They had a proper respect for the keenintelligence of Carl Sartoris, and they knew that he had found them out. There was a queer gleam in his eyes. 

"We will have a friendly discussion on the ethics of the case some othertime, " he said with an ominous frown. "Meanwhile I think you can leavethe matter to me. My dear young lady, I should very much like to seethose diamonds. "

"I regret that I cannot accommodate you, " Beatrice said. "In the firstplace they are not mine. "

"No, but they belong to Stephen Richford, which is much the same thing. "

"Again I am sorry to have to disagree with you, " Beatrice went onquietly. "The man who calls himself my husband has ended his careerdisgracefully. He has been guilty of fraudulent conduct, and even at thepresent moment he may be in the hands of the police. "

Beatrice spoke more truly than she had imagined. She was not in theleast frightened, and yet she knew perfectly well that these peoplewould not stick at trifles. 

"My husband came to me to-night, " she said. "He came and asked me forthese gems. He wanted to turn them into money to fly with; he desired tohave a luxurious retreat. I might have parted with them but for onething--he seemed to have no sorrow for those that he had robbed. So Ideclined to part with the diamonds. I am going to keep them and handthem over to my husband's creditors. I took them from the safe in myhotel, fearing that there would be complications, but I was wrong, and Iam sorry that I did so. "

"And why are you sorry?" Sartoris asked. 

"Because the stones were far safer there than they are here, " Beatricesaid. 

There was no mistaking the girl's insinuation; even Sartoris reddened. 

"So you mean to say that you suspect me?" he asked. 

"Most certainly I do, " Beatrice said boldly. "I have only to look intoyour face to see that. You are all three together; there is no honestybetween you. You are not even loyal to each other. And I know who youare and what part you all played in the removal of my father's body fromthe hotel. You who call yourself Sartoris, are the little cripple of theblack hansom cab, you others are the rogues who posed as Countess de laMoray and General Gastang. And if those diamonds are to become yourproperty, you must take them by force. "

"_Le brave chien_, " the woman sneered. "Well, I suppose what must be, must. Who will do it?"

"Who better than yourself?" Sartoris asked. "I had rather not lay handson a woman, but----"

"There is no necessity. The painful thing is not going to be done atall. It is well that I am here to shield your consciences from such anoutrage. "

The door had opened so suddenly that the man Reggie was almost carriedoff his feet, and Berrington stood in the room. Beatrice gave a suddensob of relief, for she had forgotten Berrington altogether in thetension of the moment. He stood there erect and upright, his face palewith anger and his eyes blazing like stars. 

Sartoris burst out furiously and impatiently----

"Damnation!" he screamed. "I had clean forgotten all about this fellow. His very existence had passed altogether out of my mind. "

"Then your memory is very short and very convenient, " Berrington said. "It is not so very long ago that my presence in the house wasexceedingly convenient to you. "

"You saved my life for what it is worth, " Sartoris growled sullenly. 

"Well, it may be worth a great deal to the police, " Berrington retorted. "I saved your life, which was perhaps a foolish thing to do, especiallyas you had made preparations to sacrifice mine for so doing. Whilst yourhands have been so full, I have been making investigations in the house. Really, I have been very well repaid for my trouble. "

Sartoris started and looked up uneasily. For once his ready tonguefailed him. 

"Perhaps you had better be a little more explicit, " he said. 

"Time enough for that, presently. My first discovery was in connectionwith the dining-room fireplace. I fancy you know what I mean. The nextitem was connected with the stairs. You murderous dog, so that was thetrap you laid for me. I was not to go until you had seen me again. I wasto stay for the sake of your sister. Well, I am glad that I obeyed now. But my little discoveries did not end here. Mrs. Richford, what isthis?"

Berrington held out a strip of soiled linen and Beatrice took it in herhand. 

"It looks like a collar, " she said. "It is a collar. If you have made adiscovery, Colonel Berrington, I have made another. This collar belongsto my father; I marked it for him in some new ink that does not wantheating. Melanyl, I think they call it. It was one of a set of a dozencollars and I marked them all, the day of that fatal dinner party. Yousee that, as my father had had no valet of late----"

"You acted in his stead, " Berrington said eagerly; "when did you markthis?"

"About half-past four on the day of the dinner party. "

"Not long before your father went up to dress for dinner, I suppose?"

"Yes, it would be about that time. After marking the collars that hadjust come from the makers, I placed them in father's wardrobe in hisbedroom. "

"Then this is the very collar that he wore for the dinner party, "Berrington cried; "the very collar that he was wearing at the time hedisappeared. And the same collar I found not an hour ago in Mr. Sartoris's dining-room. Not in the dining-room proper, but in a kind ofvault under the floor. What is the explanation of this, I wonder?"

"If you are so cursedly clever, " Sartoris sneered, "you had better findout for yourself. Get him out of the way, get both of them out of theway, get the diamonds, and let us disappear. The game is up so far asEngland is concerned. Get him out of the way. "

Sartoris's voice had risen to a wild scream. He sent his chair rapidlyacross the room in the direction of the door. Berrington pulled him upsharp. 

"No tricks, " he said sternly. "Now none of those electrical contrivancesof yours. If you move so much as an inch further I'll shoot you like adog. "

Sartoris pulled up suddenly. He did not need to look at Berrington'sface to feel sure that he was in deadly earnest. At the same time theman called Reggie leaped at Berrington's throat and bore him backwards. The assault was so sudden that Berrington dropped the revolver that hehad drawn, at the feet of Beatrice. 

"Never mind about me, " he called out. "Point the weapon upwards and pullthe trigger. "

In a mechanical kind of way Beatrice did as she was told. As the weaponswayed, the trigger clicked, and the bullet, deflected on the table, snapped the back leg of Sartoris's chair clean off, so that he came ahuddled mass of bones to the floor. A report followed, and before thesmoke had fully cleared away from Beatrice's eyes it seemed to her thatthe room was full of people. There were three or four policemen inuniform, Field cool and collected, Richford white and sullen, with thetwitching face of Bentwood in the background. 

As the man Reggie rose to his feet, the handcuffs were slipped over hiswrists, and the woman was treated in a similar fashion. Only Sartoris, being absolutely helpless, was spared the like indignity. Field lookedquite satisfied. 

"Bagged the whole covey, " he said. "Go and stand at the front door, oneof you, and see that nobody goes out. There may be others present, ofwhom we know nothing as yet. Now, Mr. Sartoris, I should like to have afew words with you touching the disappearance of Sir Charles Darryll. "

"You think that I murdered him?" Sartoris sneered. 

"Certainly not, " Field replied. "You can't have murder without a corpse, and in this case we do not even pretend to look for the corpse. "

"Or a body perhaps, " Sartoris went on. He was quite the coolest personin the room. "Well, what do you want me to say or do? If you produce thecorpse----"

"As I said before, there is no corpse, " Field said. "Colonel Berringtonseems to have discovered something. He may be able to help us if youwon't. "

"I can help you, " Berrington said in a thrilling voice, "beyond yourmost sanguine hopes. "

CHAPTER XXXVII

Sartoris sat a huddled heap on the floor, with his white snarling facelooking out like the head of an angry snake. He was not in the leastafraid, and yet the expression of his eyes told that he knew everythingwas over. As he struggled painfully to his feet, Mary ran forward andguided him to a chair. He did not thank her by so much as a gesture. Allthe care and tenderness was wasted upon that warped nature. 

"If I were not a cripple, " he snarled, "this would never have happened. And yet a cursed bag of aching bones has got the better of you all, ay, and would have kept the better, too, if I could only have moved aboutlike the rest. But you are not going to get me to say anything if I sithere all night. "

It was a strange scene, altogether, --Sartoris a huddled heap, cursingand snarling in his chair, the man Reggie and the woman Cora standingby, with uneasy grins on their faces, trying to carry it off in a spiritof false bravado. To the right of them stood Bentwood, now quite soberand shaking, and Richford sullen and despairing. Beatrice was in theshadow behind Mark Ventmore. Mary moved forward, followed by Berrington. 

"What is the charge?" the man Reggie asked. "What have we done?"

Field shrugged his shoulders. Really the question did not deserve areply. Sartoris took up the same line in his snarling voice. 

"That's what we want to know, " he said. "What is the charge? If you havea warrant, read it aloud. We have every right to know. "

"I have a warrant so far as you are concerned, " Field replied. "For thepresent, you are charged with forgery and uttering a certain document, purporting to be an assignment of mining interests in Burmah from SirCharles Darryll to yourself. The document is in my pocket, and I canproduce it for your inspection, if you like. I need not tell you thatthere will be other charges later on, but these will suffice for thepresent. "

"That does not touch us, at all, " the woman Cora said. 

"I am arresting you on my own responsibility, " Field said curtly. "If Ihave made any mistake, then you can bring an action for illegaldetention later on. Colonel Berrington, we are wasting time here. Had wenot better get on with our search?"

Berrington nodded approval. There was an exulting gleam in his eyes thatbetokened the discovery of something out of the common. Mary crossed theroom rapidly and threw herself in an utter abandonment of grief at herbrother's feet. 

"Oh, why don't you tell them everything?" she cried. "Why don't you tellthe whole truth and save yourself? I have friends here, more than one, who care for me, and who for my sake would do much to save you from theshame and humiliation that lie before you. I know much, but I do notknow all. For the sake of the old name----"

"Burn the old name, " Sartoris said. "What has it done for me? You havebeen a good sister to me, but your attentions have been a littleembarrassing sometimes. And if you had hoped to change me, you had yourtrouble for your pains. You may put me on the rack and torture me, butnot one word do I say. "

"It seems so hard, so very hard, " Mary moaned. "And when I look back tothe time----"

"Oh, never mind looking back to any time, " Sartoris muttered. "Thegame's up, I tell you. I have been beaten, and there's an end of it. Ishould play the same hand again if I had the chance, so make no mistakeabout that. Wheel me as far as the dining-room. "

"It will not be of the slightest use, " Berrington said in a cold, clearvoice. "I know that you would blow the whole lot of us to Eternity ifyou got the chance, as a kind of revenge for our victory, but I have putan end to that. You will find all the wires disconnected from yourbattery. After that you are quite free to go into the dining-room. "

Sartoris grinned and displayed his teeth in an evil smile. Heaven onlyknows what new form of villainy he was plotting. And he would cheerfullyhave blown up the house and destroyed everybody there, includinghimself, if he had had the opportunity to complete his revenge. 

"We are wasting time, " Field said. "Take all the prisoners away, exceptDr. Bentwood. I have very good reasons for asking him to remain. "

Bentwood smiled in a mean and sinister way. He had tried to hide himselfin a corner of the room. There was something so cringing and fawningabout the fellow that Berrington longed to kick him. Sartoris spoke in awaspish whisper:

"So the land lies in that quarter, " he said. "We have an informeramongst us. If I had known that before, my good Bentwood, --if I hadknown that before!"

Big as he was, Bentwood looked small and mean at that moment. 

"You are quite mistaken, " he cried. "You are altogether wrong, my dearCarl. I am as much of a prisoner as any of you. I was taken in fairfight outside after a desperate struggle. What have I to gain by anattitude of unreasonable obstinacy?"

"Oh, nothing, " Sartoris replied. "But you can make things easy foryourself by affording the police information. You will probably get offwith ten years. I would fight the thing out to the bitter end and chanceit. But you and I are made of different stuff. "

Mark Ventmore, watching the two men, thought so too, but he saidnothing. One was a mere bag of bones, the other a fine figure of a man, but Mark would have preferred the cripple, who made no sign and showedno feeling as he tottered to the door, between the policemen. Mary wouldhave said something to him, but he waved her back. 

"Now don't you trouble about me any more, " he said. "I shall be safe forsome years to come, the law will see to that. We shall never meet again, for the simple reason that a physique like mine will not stand theprison treatment. I shall die there. Good bye. "

Mary kept back her tears. She would have felt better if she could haveseen even the slightest trace of remorse in her brother. 

"Marry Berrington, " he said. "He has been pretty faithful to you and youwill be alone in the world now. You should think yourself lucky with aman like that to fall back upon. I have to say adieu to the lot of you. "

Sartoris was gone at last. In fact the whole lot were packed on themotor car which the police had sent down at Field's instigation. Being acripple, Sartoris had been accommodated in the seat by the driver. Withher eyes heavy with tears, Mary watched them depart. Sartoris wasfatally correct in his prophecy; it was the last time that Mary wasdestined to see him. He had always recognised the fact that jail wouldbe the death of him. He had the germs of a disease in his breast that hehad only kept at bay by constant occupation and mental activity. Marynever looked upon the face of her brother in the flesh again. 

Field turned to Berrington and drew a long breath. 

"The atmosphere smells all the sweeter for the loss of that lot, " hesaid. "My word, this has been an anxious night for me. I don't know whenI have felt so nervous. But I see that you have made a discovery, Colonel Berrington. What is it?"

"It seems to me that I have made more than one, " Berrington said. "Inthe first place my suspicion that the body of Sir Charles Darryll wasbrought here has been confirmed. To begin with, I have got to the bottomof that mysterious dining-room business. Come this way and I will showyou. Bentwood and that officer of yours had better stay here for themoment. "

"Anything that I can do for you, gentlemen, " Bentwood said meekly. "Anyinformation that lies in my power. You have only to command me, and Iwill respond. "

"Presently, " Field said contemptuously. "We will question you later on. Then you shall tell me all about that secret Eastern drug that youunderstand so well, and what effect it is likely to have on a sleepingman. "

Bentwood gave a gasp, and his face grew livid. It was evident that Fieldhad struck and tapped a mine that the doctor had considered to be hiddenfrom everybody. Then Bentwood sat down moodily and looked into the fire. 

Berrington led the way into the dining-room, where he proceeded toexplain everything in relation to the room under the floor and the vaultin connection therewith. Field was particularly interested. All thisworked out beautifully with his theory. 

"I expect the body was concealed here, " he said. "The thing has beenwell worked out. But do you suppose that Sartoris went to all thistrouble and expense for the simple reason----"

"He didn't, " Berrington explained. "Miss Sartoris, or Miss Grey as Iprefer to call her, told me all about that. The house was taken fouryears ago and occupied by an American electrical engineer whom Sartorisknew quite well. It was he who put in all these dodges. When he died, Sartoris took the place, doubtless feeling that he might be able to usethe mysteries here to good effect. I don't suppose at that time that heknew anything about the full value of Sir Charles Darryll's concessions. But once he had to take action, then this room came in very usefully. "

"Do you know why they brought the body here?" Field asked. 

"Yes, I have a pretty good idea on that score. Sir Charles had certainpapers in his room in the _Royal Palace Hotel_, and these people wantedto gain possession of them. The robbery was fixed to take place on thenight of that dinner party. Mind you, Richford did not know anythingabout that, because Sartoris had kept him in the dark. Bentwood was towork it. Bentwood was to administer the drug, but he gave too much. Theconsequence was an overdose, as you may gather. "

Field smiled peculiarly, but he gave no hint as to the extent of his owndiscovery. 

"These people did not want a _post mortem_, " Berrington said. "They didnot desire that any traces of that practically unknown drug should bediscovered. "

"And you think that they all ran that risk to guard their secret?" askedField. "Well, you have provided me with one or two surprises, but I amgoing to provide you with as many before we go to bed. Have youdiscovered anything further?"

"Oh, yes, " said Berrington, "this collar, for instance. I am in aposition to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that Sir Charles wore iton the night of the dinner party. I found that down here in this veryvault. No further proof is wanted that the body was here. But whatpuzzles me is this: we were so quickly on the spot that those rascalshad not the slightest chance of disposing of the corpse. What then hasbecome of it--why can't we find it? Now that one knows all about theruby mines and the concessions--which appear to me to be veryvaluable--the mystery becomes tolerably clear. But the corpse, where isit?"

"Are you quite sure that there is a corpse?" asked Field drily. "Let usgo and ask Bentwood. "

Bentwood sat up and smiled as his two chief tormentors came back. He wasready to afford any information that the gentlemen required. 

"It is not much that I am going to ask, " said Field. "Only this: Pleasetake us at once to the spot where we can find the body of Sir CharlesDarryll. "

Bentwood jumped nimbly to his feet. The question seemed to fairlystagger him. If he had thought of concealing anything, he abandoned theidea now. 

"Come this way, gentlemen, " he said. "You are too many for mealtogether. I wish to heaven that I had kept my medical discoveries tomyself. "

CHAPTER XXXVIII

Bentwood led the way from the dining-room up a back staircase, andpaused before what looked like a portion of the wallpaper. There was alittle discoloured spot about half way between the dado and the floor, and on this the doctor pressed a shaking thumb. A part of the wall fellaway and disclosed a small room beyond. The room had evidently beenoccupied lately, for there was a fire in the grate and the remains of ameal on the table. The room itself was empty. 

"Well, I'm hanged, " Bentwood cried. "Gentlemen, I can't tell you now. You asked to see the body of Sir Charles Darryll, and I have done mybest to satisfy your curiosity. The last time I saw the body it washere. It seems to have vanished, and I know no more than the dead whathas happened. I'm telling you no more than the truth. "

That the man was telling the truth was evidenced by the expression ofhis face. Field had no more questions to ask, because he was quite sureof the fact. On the table lay a letter, which the inspector firstglanced at and then placed in his pocket. 

"I am just a little disappointed, " he said, "because I fancied that Ihad the complete and crowning surprise for you here tonight, Colonel. You had better go off with my men, because I have no further need ofyour services for the present, Dr. Bentwood. Perhaps to-morrow I mayhave the pleasure of calling upon you. Good night. "

The doctor vanished from the house, which was empty now, save forBerrington and Field. The latter put out the lights and prepared toleave by way of the front door. 

"What are you going to do next?" Berrington asked. 

"Go back to headquarters and report progress, " Field explained. "Therest is a matter of chance. I fancy I can see my way pretty clearly asto what has happened. Come along, sir; on the whole we have no call tobe dissatisfied. "

But the events of the night were by no means over yet. A batteredconstable at the Yard who had just had his head bandaged up had a storyto tell. The prisoners from No. 100, Audley Place, had not been conveyedto durance vile without one accident that had been attended with a fataltragedy. The officer told his story painfully. 

"It was that little devil by the side of the driver, " he said. "It'slucky for me that he was not a big man instead of a bag of bones. We'dcome about half way when he turned and half throttled the driver andthen put speed on the motor. There was a struggle for the steering gear, and then the whole show came to grief on a bridge. We were all pitchedout, but we hung to our prisoners, who are a pretty sight, sir. Mr. Richford pitched over the side of the bridge on to the metals of therailway lines below and he was killed on the spot. I don't want anothergame like that. "

Surely enough Richford had been killed. His neck had been broken, and hehad died without the slightest pain. Berrington, listening gravely tothe story, felt no shock from the recital that he had heard. The worldwas well rid of a poisonous scoundrel, and Beatrice would be free now tomarry the man of her choice. 

"Was Sartoris hurt?" he asked, a little ashamed to feel that he wouldhave been glad to hear so for Mary's sake. "A delicate man likethat----"

"Internally, the doctor says, " the officer went on; "been spitting bloodever since he has. "

Berrington expressed a desire to see the cripple, who received himwithout any sign of feeling. He was lying back in an arm chair, his facewhite and set. 

"You need not condole with me, " he said. "Don't ask me to make adeathbed confession, for that kind of thing is sheer waste of time. Iknow that I'm dying. I know that I may fall back at any moment, and thenthere will be the end. I'm full of blood inside. I might have told thatfool of a doctor what he had come to find out--that a broken rib haspierced the lung, and I'm bleeding away quietly. Feel my hands. "

Berrington touched the cold, clammy fingers. They were icy with thetouch of death. 

"_Rigor mortis_, " Sartoris said. "Only a few minutes now. It's a goodthing for you, and it's a good thing for Mary, who has been cursed witha brother like me. It's, it's----"

Sartoris said no more. There was a bubbling kind of sigh, blood welledfrom his mouth and ran down his coat, his head dropped on one side, andhe was gone. There was nothing to be said, nothing to be done. On thewhole it was just as well. 

"It's a ghastly business altogether, " Berrington said to Field. "Oldsoldier as I am, I have had quite enough of horrors for one night. Iunderstand that Miss Grey returned to the _Royal Palace_ with Mrs. Richford. I had better go and tell them both what has happened. "

Field agreed, and Berrington departed on his errand. It was not muchpast eleven yet, so there was plenty of time. Mary and Beatrice had goneback to the hotel in care of Mark Ventmore. They were seated in thedrawing-room when Berrington arrived. 

Beatrice crossed the room quickly. She wanted to have a few words withBerrington before the others joined in the discussion; she wanted toknow if anything had been discovered. 

"About my father?" she asked. "This suspense is horrible. Have they notgot on the track yet? Why did they want to do that disgraceful thing atall?"

Berrington explained as far as possible. Beatrice was quick to see themeaning of it all. The recital of the story made her a little easier inher mind. 

"Possibly by this time to-morrow, " Berrington said. "Meanwhile I havesomething to tell both you and Miss Grey that will be a shock to you, though personally it would be hypocritical to regard it in the light ofa deplorable event. There was an accident to the motor car. "

"Mr. Sartoris, I mean Mr. Grey, has he escaped?" Beatrice cried. "Yes?"

"I don't think that he was trying to escape. I fancy it was more in thespirit of diabolical mischief than anything else, but he attacked thedriver and made a grab for the steering wheel. The result was a smash ona bridge, and the motor was upset. Stephen Richford was pitched cleanover the bridge on to the lines, and--and----"

"Killed on the spot?" Beatrice asked quietly. "Would that I could saythat I am sorry. It is the best thing that could have happened. And therest of them?"

"There was not much damage done, except to Sartoris, or Grey, rather. The body of the car struck him on the chest, and a rib stuck into hislung. He bled to death. I was the last person to see him. To the end hewas as hard and callous as ever. Will you tell Mary, please? It wouldcome better from you. "

Berrington and Ventmore stood talking quietly together whilst Beatriceperformed her sad task. Mark listened to all that Berrington had totell. 

"And yet all this bother might have been saved, " he said. "My fatherknew all about those concessions, and he has a pretty good idea of thevalue of them. Only yesterday he was talking to me about it. If SirCharles had gone to him, he could have got every penny that he required. But you see, I was not on good terms with my father at the time, thoughthat is all forgiven and forgotten now. At any rate I think we shouldask my father's assistance if only to clear the good name of SirCharles, and make a provision for Beatrice. Now that Richford is dead, something will have to be done. Don't you think so?"

"I am quite sure that you are right, " Berrington said. "Your father isrich, and a remarkably good man of business. He is the very one to putmatters on a proper footing, and see that the money is returned to thecompany that Sir Charles was entangled with. You say that those rubymines are really a good property?"

"My father says that they are splendid, " Mark replied. "Enough to giveSir Charles a large income, pay his debts, and provide for Miss Deciébesides. I shall see my father to-night, and will go thoroughly into thequestion with him. "

The thing was left at that, and Berrington made his preparations todepart. Mary was crying quietly now with the keen edge of her grieftaken off. Mark and Beatrice drew aside, so that the others could talkin private. 

"What shall I say to you, Mary?" Berrington asked. 

"What can you say?" the girl asked in a gentle tone. "You are a goodman, Phil, and it is good to know that you have loved me so devotedlyand sincerely. I shall be able to come to you now and take up the threadof my happiness, where I deliberately snapped it three years ago. If mybrother had not been misled by a designing woman----"

"Mary, " Berrington said with firmness. "You are utterly wrong. I havehad the story from Field only to-night, who has heard it from the lipsof Miss Decié herself. She is a girl as good and pure as yourself. Fromfirst to last she was deceived. If Frank Leviter, the man who sacrificedhis life for her sake and whom she loved, had lived, the mask would havefallen from your eyes. Your brother treated Violet Decié as he treatedyou, as he treated everybody. He was bad to the core of his being, andhe has been saved from a shameful death by an accident. If you will tryto get all that into your mind you will be a happier woman. You havelost three of the best years of your life--years that belonged to me aswell as to you--in pursuit of a mistaken sense of duty. This must beclearly understood between us if the path of our married life is to befree from care. "

Mary bent her head and said nothing. And yet, deep down in her heart sheknew that Berrington had said no more than the truth. She placed herhand in his. 

"I am ready for you when the time comes, Phil, " she whispered. "Only onething I ask. Never let this be mentioned between us again. "

"That I faithfully promise, " said Berrington. "It is what I was going tosuggest. Do you stay here to-night with Beatrice Darryll?"

Mary replied that that was the arrangement. Meanwhile Mark had beendiscussing the future with Beatrice. She had warmly approved of all thather lover had said about his father. She was glad to know that old Mr. Ventmore would not oppose the marriage, and that her love for him wouldnot tend to keep Mark a poor man. 

"So perhaps you had better let me have all those papers that Sartoriswas so anxious to get hold of, " Mark concluded. "Could you let me havethem now?"

"Of course I can, " Beatrice said. "I'll go and get them for you from myroom. Mary Grey is sharing my bed with me to-night--to-morrow I shallarrange for her to have my father's room. I'll get the papers at once ifyou will wait. "

The papers were found with some little delay, and Beatrice was preparingto come downstairs again when it seemed to her that she heard a noise inthe room next to her, the bedroom that had been occupied by SirCharles. It was a creeping kind of noise followed by what was mostunmistakably a sneeze. 

Beatrice hesitated just for a moment, for her nerves had been muchstrained lately. Then she put her fear from her and walked into the nextroom. Only one of the electric lights gave a feeble glimmer over theroom. A man stood there, a man who was changing his upper garments. Beatrice gave a little cry and staggered back into the doorway. The manturned at the same time, and saw that he was observed. His face was aswhite as that of Beatrice. 

"Father!" the girl said, "father! Is it possible that I am not dreamingand that you are in the flesh before me again? Oh, father, father!"

CHAPTER XXXIX

A deadly faintness came over Beatrice. Torn and distracted as she hadbeen of late, this last discovery was almost too much for her. She couldonly stand there with her hand upon her heart to still its passionatebeating. 

Yes, it was her father, beyond the shadow of a doubt. How he got thereBeatrice could not possibly have told. He was looking much the same aswhen Beatrice had seen him last, save that his clothes were not so neatand he had not been shaved for some days. He seemed quite resigned tothe situation although his expression was cross and irritable. Hemotioned to Beatrice to shut the door. 

"Why don't you close the door?" he demanded. "Suppose anybody saw me?"

Beatrice was getting back some of her self-possession by this time. Sheclosed the door and then took her seat on the edge of her father's bed. 

"Why should you not be seen?" she asked. "What difference can itpossibly make? We have all been looking for you everywhere. Where haveyou been?"

"I'm not quite sure, " was the strange reply. "But you seem to have lostsight of my peculiar situation, Beatrice. My head is a little strangeand confused, but I dare say it will come right presently. What happenedto me on the night of the dinner party?"

"I did not see that anything happened, " Beatrice said. "I suppose youwent to bed in the ordinary way. I did not see that there wasanything----"

"You didn't notice that I had too much wine with my dinner?"

Beatrice was fain to admit that she had not noticed anything of thekind. She wondered how much her father really knew as to what hadhappened. 

"There has been a great deal of fuss, " Sir Charles said. He proceeded todress himself in certain old clothes and took up a beard and spectaclesfrom the dressing table. Beatrice watched him with a growing feelingthat he had taken leave of his senses. 

"Why are you going to use those things?" she asked. 

"Because it is absolutely necessary, " Sir Charles said irritably. "Icame here in this disguise to pick out certain things that I needed. Akind friend furnished this disguise, and also money for me to get away. "

"But why do you want to get away?" Beatrice asked, more puzzled thanever. 

"My dear child, your memory must be sadly defective, " Sir Charles saidsharply. "You seem to forget that I am in great difficulties. Richfordwas going to put me right, but Richford is dead. It is just my luck. "

"Who told you that?" Beatrice asked. "Why it was only tonight----"

"My dear, there was a gentleman outside the hotel who told somebodyelse. Richford was arrested at the house of a friend of mine; I saw thething done. Then I realized that my position was desperate. You see Ihave been stopping at Wandsworth with a friend for the last two or threedays. "

Beatrice began to understand a little. The cunning nature of the plotwas beginning to unfold itself before her. 

"The name of that friend is Mr. Carl Sartoris, I suppose?" Beatriceasked. 

"That's the man. Though I cannot see how you came to know that. I metSartoris before on business. He wanted me to sell him some rubbishy RubyMines concessions that Lord Edward Decié and myself procured years ago. I refused to take his money then; it did not seem fair. Besides I was infunds at the time. "

Beatrice could hardly refrain from smiling at the naïve confession. 

"I should like to hear more about that, " she said. 

"I was just coming to it, " Sir Charles went on. "I must have taken toomuch wine on that night; I seemed to sleep for days. When I came tomyself I was in a strange room, with a doctor bending over me. "

"A tall man with a beard? A man who carries drink all over him?"Beatrice asked. 

"That is the fellow, " Sir Charles said with obvious surprise, "thoughhow you could know all these things puzzles me. Name of Bentwood. Sartoris was in the room, too. He told me that I had been foundwandering about, and he told me that I was in danger of immediatearrest. When I suggested sending for Richford, he said that Richford hadcome to grief, and that the police were after him. Altogether, my dearchild, my situation was not one to be envied. "

"I quite understand that, " Beatrice said, not without sarcasm. 

"My dear, it was dreadful. Richford had come to grief. So far as I knewto the contrary, my only child was mated to a felon. Think of my mentalagony!"

"I don't think we need dwell on that, " Beatrice said with some traces ofscorn in her voice. "You always knew that Stephen Richford was ascoundrel. He was not the less of a scoundrel because he could give me aposition as the wife of a rich man, and because he could free you from agreat and terrible danger. My mental agony counted for something too. "

"I should think it did, " Sir Charles said pompously. "I find that youwere married, that all the papers were talking of my strangedisappearance. Strangely enough, I never could get a sight of a dailynewspaper. I don't know why. At any rate, you were married. Richford hadcome to grief, and thus was in hourly expectation of arrest. It was atthis point that my friend Carl Sartoris came in. He kept me safe, heinsisted upon giving me £500 for those concessions, which really was adelicate way of finding me the money to leave the country. Everythingwas arranged for my departure when the police came to the house of myfriend Sartoris and took _him_ off also. Directly I found that out, thatsomething was wrong there, I crept away from the house, and here I am. "

Sir Charles held out his hands helplessly. He always expected otherpeople to do things for him. Beatrice began to see her side of the case. Richford was dead, and the large sum of money that he had promised SirCharles was no longer available. And Beatrice recalled the night of thedinner party, when her father had taken her to the window, and had shownher the two men watching silently below. The danger was just as greatas ever; it was just as imperative that Sir Charles should leave thecountry. 

Out of the whirling emotion in Beatrice's head order began to berestored. Everybody, so far as the girl knew, believed her father to bedead. The body had been spirited away for some reason known to Sartorisand his colleagues; nobody ever expected to see Sir Charles again. If hecould slip out of the country now, and go abroad, the danger would beaverted. Beatrice began to see her way to manage the thing. 

"I will do what I can, " she said. "You have that £500 intact? Very good. But there are some things that I am bound to tell you. People who are ina position to know, say that your mining concessions are very valuableindeed. "

"Worth absolutely nothing, " Sir Charles said. "Tried it before. Besides, if they were worth a lot of money, it is impossible to work the mine. The country is too disturbed and dangerous for anything of that kind. Besides, I have sold the concessions, and there is an end of it. Evenwithout a business mind you can see that. "

"All the same, I feel pretty sure that I am right, " Beatrice said. "Mydear father, you have been the victim of a strange conspiracy. You hadnot taken too much wine that night, but you were drugged by some mineralor vegetable in such a manner that the next day you were taken for dead. I did not know that fact till I was married; indeed, the news was keptfrom me and brought to me at church. The man whom you regard as yourbenefactor wanted certain papers of yours, and the doctor, Bentwood, wasgoing to do the drugging. It was done too well; you were regarded asdead. Then, for some reason or other, probably because it was necessaryfor you to sign certain papers--your body was stolen, and you weretaken, still in a state like death, to the house of Carl Sartoris atWandsworth. "

"God bless my soul, you don't really mean it?" Sir Charles cried. 

"Indeed I do, " Beatrice went on. "This Bentwood is a doctor who is anexpert in the miracles and the hocus pocus of the East. The drug theyadministered to you is not known in England; the thing has never beenseen here. I understand that they could have kept you in a state ofsuspended animation as long as they pleased. But they desired to see youin the flesh again so that you could sign that paper relating to thosemines. "

"I signed the paper this very morning, " Sir Charles cried. "But I don'tunderstand it all. Begin at the beginning and tell me all over again. "

Beatrice did so, but it was a long time before her father appeared tocomprehend. When he did so he was utterly incapable of seeing what CarlSartoris had had in his mind. 

"I can see that they didn't want to murder me, " he said. "A_post-mortem_ would have prevented that part of the scheme that requiredmy signature--hence the daring theft of my body. But the main thing isthat I have made £500 by the transaction. "

Beatrice's lip curled scornfully. 

"I had hoped that you would have taken another view of the case, " shesaid. "I am afraid that you will never alter, father. Richford is dead, and I am free from him. Sartoris is dead, also, so we shall never knowwhat his ultimate designs were. I don't see that you can keep that moneyunder the circumstances, father. "

Sir Charles was emphatically of a different opinion. Besides, as hepointedly put it, how was he going to get away without funds?

"I had forgotten that side of the matter, " Beatrice said. "But I am notwithout friends. There is Mark Ventmore, for instance. If I were to askhim----"

"You are not to do anything of the kind, " Sir Charles said angrily. "Howon earth am I going to restore this money to Sartoris when the poorfellow is dead? He may not have a single relative in the world, for allI know. The money is honestly mine, and it is sufficient to take me outof this accursed country where detectives are waiting for me at everycorner. And now you want to bring Mark Ventmore into it. "

"Mark is the soul of honour, " Beatrice said. "I am sure that he----"

"Has been in the past a confounded nuisance, " Sir Charles interrupted. "It looks as if he were going to be just as much trouble in the future. "

"He is the man I am going to marry, " Beatrice said quietly. "I offeredmy life to save you and your good name, and a merciful providencereleased me from the sacrifice. Next time, I please myself. I shallnever marry anybody but Mark. "

"Of course you won't, " Sir Charles said, in an aggrieved voice. "If youhad never seen Mark Ventmore you would have been married to Richford ayear ago, in which case I should not stand in my present awkwardposition. But we are only wasting time. Help me on with this beard andthen walk as far as the hall with me. Then you can give me a kiss, andI'll take a cab and give you my blessing. "

Beatrice said nothing. She would keep his secret. And all the worldshould hear that Sir Charles had been the victim of a calamity thatcould not be solved. 

CHAPTER XL

Therefore there was nothing to be done. Perhaps after the lapse of yearsMark might be told the strange sequel to the story. Sir Charles might bevisited from time to time in the place where he would choose to hidehimself. It would be by no means an enviable fate for a man who hadlived and enjoyed the world as Sir Charles had done, but he must lie onthe bed that he had made. 

"It shall be exactly as you say, " Beatrice said. "One moment and I willbe with you again. I have some friends, downstairs, who will wonder atmy long absence. I will go and make some excuse for you. Perhaps you hadbetter come to the foot of the stairs. "

At the foot of the stairs leading to the great hall, Mark stood waiting. At the sight of him Sir Charles drew back, muttering something by nomeans complimentary to the young man, under his breath. 

"I stay in the bedroom till he has gone, " he said, as he stepped back. 

Beatrice hoped that her face did not betray signs of very muchagitation. All the same, she rather wondered why Mark looked at her sovery fixedly. Perhaps it was an uneasy conscience that was troubling thegirl. Mark's first words startled her. 

"So you have been the first to find it out?" he said. 

"Find out what?" Beatrice stammered. "I--I don't understand what youmean. "

"My dear girl, why try to blind me to the truth? Field told meBerrington actually _knows_ that your father was concealed at 100, Audley Place. And I know all about that disgraceful City business, because my father told me all about it. Sir Charles has come back, hewas with you just now; he is going to make his way to the Continent. "

Beatrice had no reply for the moment; her face was red with shame. 

"Forgive me, " she whispered at length. "You have guessed everything. Isuppose it was your quick instinct that told you my companion was myfather. But, my dearest Mark, cannot you see that he must fly? He hasthe money from Sartoris----"

"Who gave it him on purpose, " Mark said eagerly. "Who bought a valuablething for a mere song, thus putting a fortune in his pocket, and gettingSir Charles out of the way for good and all, at the same time. Mydearest child, whatever your father may think or say, those ruby mineconcessions are of fabulous value. My father has gone into the mattercarefully, and he is prepared to back his opinion by large sums ofmoney. My father is never wrong in these things. There is a fortune herefor Sir Charles and also for Miss Decié. Let your father come out andsay that he has been the victim of swindlers who had resolved to get hisproperty from him. Let him call on my father, who to-morrow will givehim a cheque for ten times the amount required to get him out of all histroubles. I can guarantee that. "

"You mean to say that your father is actually prepared----"

"Certainly he is--on condition that Sir Charles and he are equalpartners. I'll go and get my father to come round here now. Only I'llsee Sir Charles first. "

Beatrice would have dissuaded him, but he would take no refusal. Heburst into the bedroom of the discomfited baronet and asked him toremove his disguise. Sir Charles was too weak to do more thanremonstrate in a gentlemanly way, but his troubled face grew clear asMark proceeded with the argument. The sanguine side of the baronet'snature came up again. 

"Really, my dear boy, this is exceedingly kind of you, " he said. "Factis, I had not the least idea that I was being treated in a reallyscandalous manner. I regarded Sartoris as a thoroughly good fellow whowas going out of his way to do me a service. And if your father saysthat those mines are valuable, I am prepared to believe him, for thereis no shrewder judge in the City. As Sartoris is dead, that deed that Isigned falls to the ground. "

"It would fall to the ground in any case, " Mark said, "seeing that itwas obtained by fraud. Now be so good as to dress yourself properly, andI will take a cab and go and fetch my father. The whole business can besettled on the spot. "

Mark went off, Beatrice saying that she must go back to Mary Grey. 

She hung lovingly on the arm of Mark as they crossed the corridor. Thelight was low there and nobody was about. 

"I hope you are going to forgive me, dear, " she said. "I came very nearto paying a heavy penalty for not trusting in you, Mark. But everythingis going my way now. "

"Our way, " Mark protested. "I don't care whether anybody is looking ornot, I am going to kiss you, dearest. You have always belonged to me andto nobody else. I cannot possibly regard you in the light of StephenRichford's widow. If I were you, I would not say anything to the othersuntil after I have settled matters between your father and mine. LetMary Grey have a good night's rest, and pack her off to bed as soon aspossible. "

Mary was safely in bed and asleep before Mark came back. Berringtonstayed long enough for Beatrice to tell him exactly what had happened. The melancholy shade that Beatrice had seen so long on Berrington's facehad vanished altogether. 

"My poor little girl is going to have peace and happiness at last, " hesaid, with a deep thrill in his voice. "We shall value it all the morebecause we have waited for it so long, so that the three years of ourprobation will not be altogether wasted. I expect there will be a gooddeal of talk about Carl Sartoris for a few days to come, but that neednot concern Mary, who has never been identified with that scoundrel, andwhose name is Grey, after all. In the course of a few days I am going totake Mary away and we shall be married very quietly. I am determined totry to get the roses back to her cheeks again. "

"I hope you will be happy, as you deserve to be, " Beatrice said withsome emotion. "But I shall be sorry to lose two such good, kind friends, and----"

"You are not going to lose us, " Berrington said. "I am going to give upsoldiering altogether. I have only carried it on for the last few years, because I needed something to keep me from brooding over my troubles. Iam going to settle down on my property at last. Good-night. "

Beatrice shook Berrington warmly by the hand, and he kissed her littlefingers. He had barely departed before Mark was back with a little wiryman with a keen face and a pair of grey eyes that seemed to see intoeverything. 

"So this is Beatrice, " he said, as he shook hands. "You must let me callyou that, my dear, because you are going to be my daughter, Mark tellsme. I am a plain man who has more or less lived for business all hislife, but begins to see lately that business is not everything. It doesnot make for happiness, for instance. When I was ill I began to seethat. But at any rate the result of my business can make others happy. "

Beatrice blushed and smiled. She began to see that she was going to likeMark's father very much indeed. In quite a natural way she kissed him. The little grey man beamed with pleasure. 

"Now that was real nice of you, " he said. "Mark has a great deal moresense and discretion than I gave him credit for. He is making a name forhimself, too. But you can't live on that kind of thing, at least not atfirst, and I'm going to give Mark £5000 a year, on condition that hetakes a pretty little place in the country, where I can come and see youweek ends. My dear, I feel that we are going to be very good friendsindeed. "

"I am quite certain of it, " Beatrice said with tears in her eyes. "Everybody is so good to me. I can't think why, but they are. "

"You'll find out if you look at yourself in the glass, " Mr. Ventmorelaughed. "There the secret lies. Not a bad compliment, eh, from a manwho never tried his hand at that kind of thing before? And now let me goand see that father of yours. Did I bring my cheque-book, Mark?"

Mark gaily answered his father that he did, and together the two went upthe stairs. When they came down at length, there was an expression onthe face of Mr. Ventmore that showed that he was by no means displeasedwith himself. Sir Charles was whistling an opera tune and was regardinga cigar with an air of critical attention. 

"Everything is settled, " he said. "Those City people will be paid offto-morrow, and I shall be free of them altogether. I shall never touchbusiness again, Beatrice; this has been a lesson to me. And if not arich man, I shall be very comfortably off. Whatever luxuries you mayneed in the future will not have to be schemed for. My dear girl, willyou order a chicken and some salad and a pint of some good dry champagneto be brought here? I'm particularly ravenous with hunger. Wonderful howone's appetite comes back when you get your mind free from worry. And tothink of those concessions being of that value, after all. Ring thebell, please. "

The next day was a good one for the evening papers. Sir Charles wasinterviewed till he was hot and angry and disposed to order histormentors out of the room. Scotland Yard had its own version of thecase, too, which was not quite in accordance with the real facts. But asBerrington said, the excitement soon cooled down, and the next sensationdrove the recollection of Sir Charles's wonderful experience out of thepublic mind. Sir Charles and his daughter went off to the country, soas to escape so much attention, and Berrington and Mary Grey went along. At the end of the week there was a wedding at the pretty church in thevillage, and Mary was happy at last. Mark and Beatrice would have towait for six months or so, because there was public opinion to bethought of, though as a matter of fact the thing was the most emptyform. 

"I hope we shall be as happy as they are, " Mark said as he and Beatricewatched the train slowly glide into the darkness. "They have earned it, too. "

"I think we both have, " Beatrice said. "But don't look backward, especially on a day like this. Let us go into the big wood, and pickdaffodils. "

And in the train Berrington had gathered his wife to his heart andkissed her tenderly. He looked down into the soft eyes from which theshadow had gone for ever. 

"And you are happy at last, darling?" he said; "though you are verysilent. "

"Silent, yes, " Mary said quietly. "Quiet, too. But thank God no longerthe Slave of Silence!"

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Transcriber's Note:

Inconsistent hyphenation and capitalization have been retained as in theoriginal text. Inconsistent usage of American versus British spellinghas also been retained. In the original text, positive contractions(He'll, I'd, I'll, I'm, they've, etc. ) were printed with half spacesbefore the apostrophe. These spaces have been removed in this edition. 

The following corrections were made:

Missing close quotes added: p. 43: On the other hand, if there is----";p. 43: But the lady who wrote that letter----"; p. 178: Can you speakfreely to me for a time?"; p. 237: who was a cripple. "; p. 312: don'tunderstand what you mean. "

Missing open quotes added: p. 221: "The figures 4. 4. '93, I mean. "; p. 222: "4. 4. '93 means the fourth of April 1893

Extra open quotes removed: p. 262 (before Look) Look at that 'e, ' too, in the word 'nine. '

Single quote to double quote: p. 213: "If you knew all that I do youwould not hesitate for a moment. If you care to write it down----"

Typos: try to tray (p. 17: pseudo waiter with his tray); then to than(p. 17: Scarcely had he left the conservatory by a door leading to thecorridor than Richford strolled in. ); his to her (p. 37: To her greatsurprise); at to as (p. 53: as Beatrice finished her story); in to if(p. 55: as if his _vis a vis_ was); must to most (p. 61: mostexquisitely furnished); inspentor to inspector (p. 91: The inspectorsmeared his hand further along the carpet. ); quiet to quite (p. 121:quite another matter); does to dose (p. 124: a strong dose ofsal-volatile); mappd to mapped (p. 129: mapped out a line for himself);somethink to something (p. 130: with something like a lovelight); had tohas (p. 139: But it looks as if he has paid for his indiscretion. );colon to period (p. 147: so many threads in the plot. ); undertand tounderstand (p. 147: I understand that you sent for me. ); Satoris toSartoris (p. 177: Not that he failed to trust Mary Sartoris. ); wondredto wondered (p. 203: Whatever were they doing here, just now, Marywondered?); Bumah to Burmah (p. 219: And that property is probably aruby mine in Burmah. ); extra 'be' removed (p. 234: Will you be so goodas to come this way and shut the door?); extra comma removed (p. 301:after "Your brother treated Violet Decié"); post-morten to post-mortem(p. 309: A _post-mortem_ would have prevented that part); Phillip toPhilip (p. 132: He was passionately in love, Philip. )

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