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"The Gillingham Rubies,"
Hutchinson & Co., London, 1915
IT would be difficult to find a more strongly contrasted pair than the two men who sat facing one another across the supper table, set before the third window of the large room at Peron's, the room overlooking the Place de l'Opéra.
Ferdinand Ferrer, the little fat Greek from Hungary, cunning, pig-eyed, unctuously smiling, puffy with high living, a little shaky about the hands from bouts of heavy drinking, looked the typical soft and pappy townsman he was, a man to rob a dying friend and to bolt squealing from a mild red cow sauntering down a country lane.
Jasper Forbes, on the other hand, big, broad, lean, sinewy, hard-bitten, with his hooked nose, fierce keen eyes, and thin lips, looked like some violent and predatory swashbuckler, strayed straight from the middle ages into the twentieth century Ville Lumière. Under their eyes Paris glittered and bubbled in its brilliant effervescence; and the laughter and cries and high-pitched chatter of the frothing crowd in the Place de l'Opéra rose to their ears on a sustained shrill note.
Both men were in a high good temper. Ferrer because he had that day bought a parcel of uncut diamonds from Jasper Forbes for four thousand pounds, and looked to make a clear two thousand profit on his purchase; Jasper Forbes because he had sold to Ferrer for four thousand pounds a parcel of uncut diamonds which had cost him nothing at all. In the course of his exploration of the Adamana country he had learned that a chief on the Mandara border had some diamonds; he had descended suddenly on his village, with his well-armed expedition, and had exacted the diamonds as its ransom. Jasper Forbes had a world-wide name as a dauntless explorer; and he had a smaller, but exceedingly bad name as a collector of ivory and gold dust in those out of the way districts of Africa where those valuable commodities fall to the strong hand. Good temper and good wine had loosened the two men's tongues; and they had been boasting to one another for nearly an hour. Their exploits had been very different in spirit and in method; Ferrer's cunning, matters of sneaking intrigue; Jasper Forbes' violent, boldly planned, and carried out with the right hand. But the results of both had been the same—ill-gotten gain.
And during the last half-hour a purpose had gradually been forming in Ferrer's ever fertile scheming brain. Now and again it had peeped out of his greedy, cunning eyes; and Jasper Forbes had seen it peep. The big man had a very good brain of his own, a brain which, with his dauntless spirit, might have brought him to millions in the ways of business, had he not been debarred from those modern paths by his Eton and Christchurch training. As he talked and bragged with a seemingly careless freedom, be watched and waited for the diamond merchant to make his proposal. Ferrer led up to it warily:
"A man like you, Mr. Forbes, uzed to ze virgin forest and ze boundless brairies, must find living in London and Baris dull—very dull," he began.
"Not as dull as the boundless prairie—not that I've tried the boundless prairie," said Jasper Forbes.
"But zey are not eggsciting, no? Zere is no shooting beeples—no niggers to whip—no reesk and danger."
"No; they're not exciting in that way," said Jasper Forbes.
Ferrer leaned forward, rapped the table with his knuckles, and said impressively, "And zere's no money—no money for a man like you, Mr. Forbes. You do not make it here."
"Oh, there's always bridge," said Jasper Forbes carelessly.
"Breedge—vhat is breedge? A few hundreds. Vhat is zat?" said Ferrer, snapping his fingers, "for a man like you eet is nozzing."
"But I'm not hard up," said Jasper Forbes. "I've got plenty of money. I've sixty thousand pounds stowed away in gilt-edged securities."
"But you want more—you want more."
"Of course I want more; and I'm always getting more," said Jasper Forbes, with the grin, which made his predatory face look so dangerous. "Come on; out with it! What's the suggestion you're dying to make? Even if I don't like it, I shan't bite you."
"I hat an idea," said Ferrer with a portentous air, and he paused.
Jasper Forbes said nothing; he waited.
"Eet's a great idea," Ferrer went on. "Eet's vhat you vant. Eet would gif you beril and reesk—most eggsciting—vhat you love."
"Is that all?" said Jasper Forbes. "I can very well wait till this Biteiah expedition is fixed up, for those."
"And eet will gif you money," said Ferrer solemnly.
"How much?" said Jasper Forbes.
"Five zousand pounds," said Ferrer.
"That sounds all right," said Jasper Forbes with his ugly grin. "And now we've heard about the gilt, let's hear about the gingerbread."
"You are a gollector—you gollect ivory and gold dust and diamonds in Africa—always in Africa."
"That's where they grow most plentifully," said Jasper Forbes flippantly.
"Not zo; zey grow in England—diamonds and jewels—more blentifully still," said Ferrer.
"Not within reach," said Jasper Forbes curtly.
"But yes; for a man who loves eggscitement—a brave man," cried Ferrer with enthusiasm.
"Where?" said Jasper Forbes.
"Did you never haf heard of the Geellingham rubies?"
"Yes; I've heard of them. What about them?" said Jasper Forbes.
Ferrer's little pig's eyes grew larger and more sparkling; and his voice thrilled with genuine feeling as he said, "Zere is ze bendant—ten stones—bidgeon-blood rubies, wizout a flaw, larger as—how you call them?—hazel nuts. And zere is a goronet wiz ten stones to match. And zere is ze neglace wiz twenty stones smaller but good. And zere is ze two bracelets wiz dree stones in each as big as ze stones in ze bendant and goronet. Zink of eet, twenty-seex stones as large as hazel nuts and twenty smaller but—"
"Very attractive indeed. But why make my mouth water?" said Jasper Forbes.
"Eet is nod for nozzing," said Ferrer. "Zere zose jewels zey are."
"In a bank," said Jasper Forbes, scornfully.
"Nod zo; zey are ad Geellingham Castle—in a zafe. Why, a brave man fond of eggscitement zose jewels should he nod gollect?" said Ferrer in an excited voice, with shining eyes.
Jasper Forbes laughed a merry enough laugh, but there was a grim undertone to It.
"Zose jewels are worth mooch ivory and gold dust—oh, mooch-to you five zousand pounds," said Ferrer, impressively.
"It would be fun," said Jasper Forbes, and there was a sudden, reckless glitter in his hard eyes.
"Sid doon," said Ferrer with enthusiasm
"But there's the awkward risk," said Jasper Forbes, with a sudden gravity, "It's all very well collecting ivory and gold dust in Africa—very good fun indeed. There's plenty of risks to it—the risk of rotten fever, and a spear through your back in the dark, and the risk of being potted by an iron slug out of an old Snider and minor risks like snake-bite and guinea worms. That's all right—all in the day's work. But when it comes to collecting famous jewels in England, there's quite a different risk: and that's the risk of penal servitude. Now it's one thing for a gentleman to get potted collecting ivory, and quite another for him to get penal servitude for burgling."
"And zo he is more gautious," said Ferrer.
"That's so," said Jasper Forbes.
"Zere is no need to reesk mooch," said Ferrer, earnestly. "If eet is nod zafe, ze rubles stay in ze zafe. And eet is nod you who take zem out of eet nod at all. You are only ze assistant. You help to make eet safe. For zat you get five zousand pounds—five zousand pounds."
"That's a different matter," said Jasper Forbes in a brisker tone. "I get as much fun as I want, and take as much risk as I want." Then he added more slowly: "I should like to take it out of that snidey old rotter, Gillingham. He does give himself airs. Well, let's hear a little more about it."
"Can you invited get to Geellingham Castle?" said Ferrer.
Jasper Forbes frowned thoughtfully, considering. Then he said: "Yes; I can work that through Pinky."
"Peenky? Who is Peenky?" said Ferrer.
"Lord Fleetham—the marquess's son—hot stuff. Pinky, but thin in places," said Jasper Forbes.
"I do nod understand," said Ferrer. "But eet does not matter. Eet is only imbortant zat you go to Geellingham Castle. Eet is zare zat you help."
"Well, a pony to Pinky will work that," said Jasper Forbes.
"A pony? Ah, he is von sportsman," said Ferrer with an air of understanding. "But gif him a horse—a whole horse."
"Hardly," said Jasper Forbes. "A pony to Pinky means that I lend him twenty-five pounds."
"Ach, zo; I understand. Eet is ze slang." said Ferrer.
"Yes. And now: what's the plan for getting hold of the rubies?" said Jasper Forbes.
"Ze plan is made when you are at ze Gastle."
"Oh, then, the business is all in the air," said Jasper Forbes in a tone of disappointment.
"Nod at all—nod at all," said Ferrer. "Ze plan is made—what you call it—rough—yes, rough. At ze Castle you put in ze details. Zat is all," said Ferrer quickly.
"Oh, I see. We fill in the details at Gillingham Castle, do we? And who's the chief of the expedition, since I'm only lieutenant? I hope you've got a first-class man. I don't want to get landed in gaol by some bungler," said Jasper Forbes.
"Do not fear. Boonglers do not work for Ferdinand Ferrer," said Ferrer proudly. "But not is nod a man. Eet is a lady."
"A what!" cried Jasper Forbes; and he laughed loudly and long. "What are you giving me? A lady? Do you think I'm going to run a risk like this with a lady? Not much!"
"Ze lady is all right—oh, but clevare!!" cried Ferrer. "And she is brave—full of courage. Do you zink I would haf had nozing to do wiz it if she had not been first-class? Nod me—nod Ferdinand Ferrer!" and his little black eyes sparkled furiously.
"But it's nonsense!" cried Jasper Forbes.
"It is nod nozzing of nonsense! Wait till you haf seen her and talked to her," said Ferrer.
Jasper Forbes frowned, and stared at the Greek. Then he shrugged his shoulders and said, "How old is she?"
"She is twenty or twenty-two," said Ferrer.
"Oh, goodness!" cried Jasper Forbes.
"Wait—wait till you haf seen her," said Ferrer.
"Oh, if I must. I must. At any rate it will be rather funny," said Jasper Forbes.
"To-morrow—at my office—at ten o'clock, said Ferrer, with sparkling eyes.
"All right," said Jasper Forbes.
"Good," said Ferrer, with a deep sigh of content.
Jasper Forbes took up his glass of champagne, and said, "Well, here's to the girl who's going to collar the Gillingham rubies!"
AT ten o'clock the next morning Jasper Forbes knocked at the door of Ferdinand Ferrer's offices at 119 Rue Voltaire. In his light tweed suit of admirable cut, and his soft hat of the same tweed, there was no taking him for anything but an Englishman. But he was a very fine figure of a man-six feet two in his stockings and broad in proportion—and the eyes of the women who passed him met his with a trifle more than the full international cordiality. Jasper Forbes was by no means lacking in manly susceptibility; but that morning he received their cordial glances with an unresponsive indifference very rare in him. His mind was full of Ferrer's extraordinary scheme; and in the clear light of day, neither dim nor rosy with the Crook's champagne, that scheme wore a much less attractive air.
The idea of working such a risky enterprise with a woman—a girl of twenty—had grown more and more repugnant to him. It had come to seem utterly absurd. At the same time he was curious—very curious indeed, to see the girl. Ferrer might grow enthusiastic about precious stones, but he was the last man in the world to grow enthusiastic about a fellow-creature—he knew too much about the human race—yet he had spoken about this girl in terms of the warmest admiration, both about her courage and her intelligence.
What kind of girl could she be, this young woman who proposed to collect—Jasper Forbes always used the euphemistic word "collect" for the fraudful or forceful acquisition of other people's property, both to himself and to others—who proposed to collect the famous Gillingham rubies? Was she hysterical, or mad, or a crank? Or was she by any chance one of those new-fangled modern girls of the suffragette or of the anarchist type?
He scowled at the thought of them, for the thought of the intellectual modern young woman was hateful to him in the extreme. Like all strong men, he liked women to be womanly and weak. The thought that she might be a modern young woman was so repulsive to him that at the foot of the broad, thickly-carpeted staircase which led up to Ferdinand Ferrer's offices he turned on his heel and walked back into the street.
Then curiosity got the better of him. He stopped short, and said under his breath: "Hang it all! I may as well see what she's like."
He turned on his heel and added, "It would be great fun collecting those rubies—to say nothing of the dollars."
He walked slowly up the staircase; and halfway up it the sense of the absurdity of having a girl for chief for so hazardous an enterprise came on him very strongly again; and he entered the outer office with a scornful air, half-ashamed of himself for not clearing straight out of the affair.
A clerk of, an important and serious air came forward, asking did Monsieur Forbes wish to see Monsieur Ferrer; but Jasper Forbes walked past him without a glance, rapped sharply on the door of the inner office, and entered. Ferdinand Ferrer was sitting at his desk, hunched up, and looking rather shaky and shrunken. His cheeks had lost their apple-like fullness of the night before; for in his expansiveness after his profitable deal in Jasper Forbes's uncut diamonds he had looked upon very much more of the wine when it was white than was good for him. It was a weakness he had derived from being unhappily married. His nerves were very much on edge, and the abrupt entrance of the explorer jarred them unbearably.
"Mornin', Ferrer!" said Jasper Forbes in his sulkiest, gruffest voice. "I guess I'm a fool to waste my time on this business; but I thought I'd see what your ruby collector was like."
"You will nod zink it a waste when you've zeen her—no; nod at all," said the diamond merchant with a smile which he meant to be reassuring, but which was merely sickly. Jasper Forbes only growled.
Ferrer looked at him enviously. He felt that it was not fair that the explorer should have drunk a bottle more champagne than he the night before, and come to his office this morning in the pink of condition, with his hard blue eye as clear as if he had drunk nothing stronger than water for at least two years. The sense of the unfairness of this hampered him in his polite efforts to make conversation; and Jasper Forbes gave him no help whatever.
The two men had been silent for five minutes, Jasper Forbes staring gloomily out of the window, and Ferrer staring gloomily at the shelves in his roll-top desk directly on a level with his eyes, when the door opened; the important clerk said "The lady to see Monsieur Ferrer," and a girl came through the door. She entered quietly, a slim girl of a handsome figure and admirable carriage, entirely at her ease, exquisitely dressed. The mass of hair, dressed rather low under her big hat, was red; her colour was high; and curious green eyes, fine green eyes indeed, gleamed through her somewhat thick veil.
"Why—why—it's Kit—it's Miss Meredith!" cried Jasper Forbes, in accents of the greatest astonishment.
"Good day, Monsieur Ferrer," said the girl. "Yes, Mr. Forbes, it's Kitty Meredith. I needn't ask how you are. I can see that you're enjoying your usual rude health."
She put an emphasis rather unpleasant on the "rude'" and she spoke in a harsh metallic voice which spoiled somewhat the charming effect of her pretty face and figure.
"Ach, but you already agquainted are! But zis is goot—sblendid!" cried Ferdinand Ferrer, joyfully.
"Rather!" said Jasper Forbes cheerfully. "This makes a difference, by Jove! I've the greatest—er—er—respect for Miss Meredith."
"I remember your showing it," said Kitty Meredith drily.
"Oh—ah—yes; that kiss," said Jasper Forbes carelessly. "Come, you haven't still got your knife into me over a trifle like that." He spoke of a kiss he had snatched from her.
"Oh, no; I expect you can't help your manners," said Kitty Meredith, with a contemptuous carelessness which would have galled a thinner-skinned man. "But I came on business, Monsieur Ferrer, and I'll wait till you have finished with Mr. Forbes." And she turned to leave the office.
"But Mr. Forbes is our business!" cried Ferrer. "He is going to help us gollect those rubies."
"Oh," said Kitty Meredith sharply; and she turned again and considered Jasper Forbes with earnest eyes and puckered, frowning brow.
It was very strange to him; but Jasper Forbes felt a little uncomfortable under her scrutiny. He did not feel quite sure that he would come out of it well, that he would give satisfaction.
He had quite lost his repugnance to serving under a girl in a dangerous enterprise. He had met Kitty Meredith at a house-party at the country house of their common acquaintance, the Strodes; and he had been greatly impressed by her prettiness and cleverness, and her skilful and daring game at auction bridge. Also he had been impressed by her untiring energy and resourcefulness in the devising and execution of the practical jokes which the cheery guests of the Strodes had played on one another after their patient host had retired to bed. Indeed Jasper Forbes had been so much impressed by the mental and physical excellence of Miss Kitty Meredith that he had with some violence stolen a kiss from her, and had been abundantly scarified by her bitter tongue for his impertinence. He wished now that he had not so foolishly excited her just displeasure.
He was greatly relieved when she said in a passionless tone. "Yes. Mr. Forbes is as good a helper as I could want." Then she added, with a faintly sarcastic intonation, "He is an old and experienced collector."
"I am that," said Jasper Forbes happily, for he heard only her words; her intonation failed to penetrate his sturdy ears.
She sat down in an easy chair, settled herself comfortably back in it, and said. "You can get an invitation to Gillingham Castle, Mr. Forbes? For you will have to work on the inside."
"Yes; I'll got Pinky Fleetham to invite me."
"Well, there's a house-party there in ten days—a small one. You had better got invited to that."
"I'll manage it," said Jasper Forbes.
"You have a car, I think, and you drive it yourself, for twice I have read in the newspapers of your being fined for exceeding the speed limit."
"Yes; that's right," said Jasper Forbes, with an air of modest pride.
"Well, you had better motor down to Gillingham Castle and leave your car there. It would be better not to bring your chauffeur. You'll be freer without him."
"Right you are," said Jasper Forbes, cheerfully.
"And now there's another thing I want, and one of you probably knows much more about it than I do, and that's a drug for sending people to sleep. It may not be needed, but it looks to me as if it will. I want the best drug of the kind there is," said Kitty Meredith.
"I come in again," said Jasper Forbes, promptly. "I can lay my hand on a fair knock-out of a hocussing drug. It sends you into a dead sleep for ten minutes, and after that you will sleep for a couple of hours unless you're wakened. But the great point about it is that you awake without any odd feeling and without any taste in your mouth. You never guess you've been hocussed; and it will mix with almost anything."
"That does sound good," said Kitty Meredith.
"It is—a fair knock-out of a drug. An American professor discovered the mixture—original research man went under. I bought the formula from him for a tenner. I thought it might come in useful some day—collecting; and here we are," said Jasper Forbes.
"Well, bring plenty of it down with you to the Castle," said Kitty Meredith. "I don't know how much we shall want."
"I'll bring enough to hocus a dozen people, said Jasper Forbes.
"Do," said Kitty Meredith, rising. "Well, I think, that's all there is to settle to-day. Will you come and put me into a cab, Mr. Forbes?"
"Wait a minute," said Jasper Forbes. "What about the money for the rubies? What guarantee have you that Ferrer will pay you?"
"Me? But I always bay—always!" cried Ferdinand Ferrer, in the tone of a man deeply hurt by the suggestion of bad faith, and he ruffled his ambrosial, but greasy, curls.
"Yes, yes; we know all about that," said Jasper Forbes lightly. "But it's hardly enough."
"Oh, Mr. Ferrer always pays me," said Kitty Meredith. "For one thing, he knows that if the money were ten minutes late the police would be informed that the Gillingham rubies were in his possession."
"There's always that," said Jasper Forbes in a comforted tone.
"And for another thing he knows that before the police got him I should have had him skinned alive," said Kitty Meredith with a singularly chilling laugh.
"Oh, but you drust me, Mees Meredith. You drust me!" cried Ferdinand Ferrer.
"I do, Mr. Ferrer—implicitly. Good morning," said Kitty Meredith.
"If Miss Meredith's satisfied, I am," said Jasper Forbes, opening the door for her. "Morning, Ferrer."
On the stairs he turned to her and said joy fully, "By Jove! This is going to be great fun—great fun!"
"Isn't it?" said Kitty Meredith, smiling at his boyish enthusiasm.
"What are you doing? Come along to Peron's and have déjeuner with me," said Jasper Forbes.
"What? Without a chaperon, Mr. Forbes? I shouldn't dream of it," said Kitty Meredith in a shocked tone.
"Oh, come; you're joking," said Jasper Forbes.
"Indeed, I'm not," said Kitty Meredith firmly
"Then shan't I see you again before we meet at Gillingham Castle?" said Jasper Forbes, and they came out into the street.
Kitty Meredith raised her parasol, and stopped a taxicab coming down the street. As it drew up to the kerb, she said.
"We shan't meet at Gillingham Castle. I shan't be there. I'm working the affair from the outside."
"Then where do we fix up the details," said Jasper Forbes.
"At Gillingham Castle. You will take all your instructions from one of the guests who will say to you, 'Why does Ferdinand Ferrer wear such a big diamond pin his cravat?' Good-bye."
THOUGH Jasper Forbes was an uncommonly observant man, and Kitty Meredith must have needed considerable powers of observation in the profession she appeared to have adopted, neither of them observed a tall, thin Frenchman, adorned by a somewhat old-fashioned moustache with long, waxed ends projecting spikily on either side of his face; who, from the other side of the road, watched their exit from the house and quick parting with quiet interest. But then they did not know that M. Aristide Vaillant had for many years been a distinguished member of the detective force of Paris before retiring into private practice. Still less did they know that he was handsomely paid to look out for Kitty Meredith in Paris, and keep an unswerving eye on her movements.
He watched Kitty Meredith drive away with entire indifference; but when Jasper Forbes with thoughtful air set out to walk to his hotel, M. Aristide Vaillant followed him at a convenient distance, and entered the hotel on his heels. Jasper Forbes went straight up to his bedroom, and set about getting his belongings together with a view to packing them. Since he had found that he was to work with Kitty Meredith, the idea of collecting the Gillingham rubies had taken the strongest hold of his fancy, and he had made up his mind to lose no time getting back to England, and obtaining an invitation to the Gillingham house party. He might get it in five minutes from Lord Fleetham; on the other hand, it might take two days. Lord Fleetham was one of those weak, obstinate men of moods who sometimes take a great deal of humouring, and, though a loan of a pony and a strong hint might extract the invitation on the spot, on the other hand It might not, and Jasper Forbes wanted plenty of time to make sure.
M. Vaillant did not seem to see Jasper Forbes ascending the stairs on springy foot. He went straight to the desk at which the hotel clerk was sitting sleepily and said, "Bonjour, Jacques!" M. Vaillant was on terms of almost affectionate familiarity with the clerks of every hotel of eminence in Paris, and these clerks were intensely proud of his acquaintance. The clerk awoke with a jerk and said, "Bonjour, Monsieur Vaillant," with an air of great eagerness to oblige, very uncommon with him, and in less than two minutes M. Vaillant had learned that the big Englishman In the light tweed suit was none other than the famous explorer, Jasper Forbes, and in another two minutes he had learned that Kitty Meredith had never set foot in the hotel. With many expressions of regard, he presented the flattered Jacques with a cigar, and came out of the hotel.
He betook himself straight to his home for he considered the conjunction of Kitty Meredith, Jasper Forbes, and Ferdinand Ferrer of sufficient importance to give it an hour or two's careful consideration. At the end of an hour and a half he had not only made up his mind that that conjunction boded ill for some unconscious owner of valuable jewels, but he had resolved to ascertain who the owner of those jewels was.
Now M. Vaillant was a man of a somewhat whimsical turn of mind, and many of his most brilliant successes, both in and out of the Paris detective force, had been won by the ingenious devices suggested to him by that whimsicality. About Kitty Meredith he knew very little. He had been informed that she was an exceedingly clever and unscrupulous adventuress, and he was paid handsomely to keep watch for her in Paris and to send information of her doings in that city of light to a correspondent in London.
He would, indeed, having his due share of the national susceptibility, have liked to know such a pretty creature. One of his subordinates had seen her arrive at Paris by the boat train from Calais, and M. Vaillant himself had had her under his eye ever since, and observed her three visits to the offices of Ferdinand Ferrer with a lively interest. Of Jasper Forbes also he knew very little—no more, indeed, than he had learned from the English papers, of which he was a constant reader, about his exploring feats in the darkest parts of Africa he could find.
But of Ferdinand Ferrer he knew a good deal, though not as much, or with the exactitude, he would have liked. He had, however, had him under his careful observation for upwards of three years; and he enjoyed the moral, or perhaps immoral, certainty that Ferrer was the biggest jewel fence in Europe, and that the big international gangs of jewel thieves sold him their plunder. He confidently expected, one of those days, to catch Ferdinand Ferrer with a fine collection of stolen stones in his safe, but so far the extreme cunning of the little fence had not given him that pleasure. Well, it was clear that no information about the enterprise in hand would come to him through the two channels about which he knew so little, Kitty Meredith and Jasper Forbes; Ferrer was his only chance.
He put together the elements in the situation, and gave them another hour's careful consideration. The sum which he knew that his London correspondent would pay for the information made it seem well worth his while. At the end of that time an extraordinarily whimsical smile illumined his moustached face; he took his hat and cane, walked sedately down the three flights of stairs from his rooms, and took his way to the printers, who printed for him the many different visiting cards which went with the many different parts he played in his multifarious investigations.
At the printer's he was again affable—no man in Paris lived at a more constant height of charming affability—with the result that in twenty minutes he came away from the office with a store of new visiting cards on which was printed admirably:
M. ARMAND DE NERVAL
Agent of the Society for The Preservation of Domestic Felicity.
He took his way, with an air of great content, to the private house of Ferdinand Ferrer on the Boulevard Sebastopol, and sent up his card to Madame Ferrer. The legend on the card, touching a matter so dear to the female heart, could not fail to excite the liveliest interest and curiosity in any woman; and Madame Ferrer came into her drawing-room, brimming over with both these emotions, and more than a little uneasy. M. Vaillant's grave and troubled face did nothing to dissipate that uneasiness. With the most sympathetic air, and in the most sympathetic tone, he disclosed his painful business. The society of which he had the honour to be an agent had made a distressing discovery about M. Ferrer; and in accordance with its invariable practice, had made haste to acquaint Madame Ferrer with its discovery, since it had been its experience that if these matters were dealt with at once it saves a great deal of trouble and unhappiness later. M. Ferrer was on the way to fall into the hands of a very beautiful adventuress.
"Oh, but of an amazing beauty! With the most wonderful red hair!"—he, dwelt craftily on her beauty—who was as unscrupulous as she was beautiful. She had been to his office three times in four days. Doubtless she had come to him with some story of diamonds to sell, but that was not her real object. The society knew her well enough to be sure of it. Her real object was the ruin of M. Ferrer. In these painful circumstances the society was at the service of Madame Ferrer, if she cared to avail herself of its aid, if Madame Ferrer would find out what it was the adventuress pretended to offer, the society would make inquiries and demonstrate that M. Ferrer was being tricked, open his eyes, and save him. The whole matter was, of course, entirely confidential.
M. Vaillant laid this proposal before Madame Ferrer to an accompaniment of her many exclamations of horror and fury. She was a stout French lady—many people would have considered her several sizes too large for M. Ferrer—with a large expanse of face which rendered her features somewhat insignificant. But her eyes, though small, were by no means insignificant: they were uncommonly bright, especially when they sparkled with fury at the disclosure of M. Vaillant.
At the end she assured him, with a vehemence almost breathless, that she would most certainly extract from M. Ferrer the proposal of this impudent hussy, and inform the society what it was. He might rely on her to maintain absolute secrecy about the generous intervention of the society on her behalf.
M. Vaillant thanked her, and came out of the house, smiling happily. He knew that Ferrer had suffered bitterly from the jealousy of his wife, and he hoped sincerely that he was about to suffer again. The more bitterly he suffered the more likely it was that he would disgorge the information about the enterprise of Kitty Meredith for which M. Vaillant's London correspondent would pay so well; and in, any event the more bitterly he suffered the more completely were fulfilled the demands of abstract justice.
Ferdinand Ferrer did suffer bitterly, and his sufferings began that very evening. He reached home in as serene and peaceful a frame of mind as could well be expected, for, by dint of gentle and sustained application of the hair of the dog that had bitten him to his jagged nerves, he had soothed them to peace. He had let himself into this hall, and was slipping off his summer overcoat: he is one of those soft and careful men who wear an overcoat, in the evening at any rate, all the year round—when the first blast of the storm smote him. Madame Ferrer made a heavy, bouncing pounce on him from the dining-room in which she was lying in wait, her bright black eyes leaping with the lust of battle like animated boot-buttons. She snorted fiercely, and cried. "Perfidious Ferdinand!"
Her Ferdinand recognised the snort; he knew the words—he had heard them often. He knew what they portended, and his so recently repaired nerves went all to pieces again.
He was eloquently Greek, with two waggling hands, but he could say nothing; he could only gasp.
"Who—who is the red-haired hussy who has been to your office three times in four days?" said Madame Ferrer in a terrible voice. "Confess, wretch!"
Her Ferdinand, so very much her Ferdinand, shuddered and gasped, and an expression of frenzied apprehension stole over his anguished face. "She's a c-c-client, my d-d-darling—a most important c-c-client," he stuttered.
"Nonsense! Clients don't have red hair! Other people's red hair!" cried Madame Ferrer displaying her basic ignorance of the habits of purchasers of diamonds.
"But I assure you, my d-d-darling—a c-c-client—a most Important c-c-client," stammered her Ferdinand.
"Faithless and abandoned villain! Is it that you dare to out-face me?" cried Madame Ferrer furiously.
It would have been clear to the meanest intelligence, had the meanest, intelligence chanced to be present at the painful scene, that he did not dare to out-face her, and he said, "No, no, my darling! No, no!"
"Then who is she, wretch? And what is her business?" cried Madame Ferrer. Ferdinand Ferrer shook his miserable head; and his face set in an expression of dogged stubbornness.
THEN MADAME Ferrer poured out the vials of her wrath. She talked at length of her years of devotion to his comfort and happiness, of how she had slaved to make him a happy home, of the wealth of wifely affection she had lavished on him from a large—it was undoubtedly large, to judge from her size—and faithful heart; only to meet with the disgraceful, the abominable return that her husband had had three interviews with a red-headed hussy in four days—a hussy red-haired with other people's hair, whose name he dared not tell.
Ferdinand Ferrer was obstinately mute. She implored and adjured him to confess, to be open with her. Ferdinand Ferrer was obstinately mute. She accompanied him to his bedroom, and talked with him in the same strain while he washed his hands for dinner. Dinner was one long recapitulation of his earlier but imaginary treacheries, of her sufferings and her virtues. Ferdinand Ferrer perspired in a mute anguish; but it was mute.
Two powerful motives kept him silent. He would not say a word to spoil his chance of acquiring the Gillingham rubies, and he would not say a word to endanger his own skin. He had too high an opinion of his wife's powers of eloquence, a very well-formed opinion, to believe for a moment that she could keep a secret. He did not sleep well, and his insomnia was by no means wholly owing to the laceration of his nerves. It was, if anything, more owing to the fact that Madame Ferrer talked eloquently for six hours, with occasional brief pauses to rest her voice, about his villainies and her wrongs. She had never heard, or read, of the methods of the Third Degree, that ingenious form of extracting information from the recalcitrant, invented by the American police; she practised them by the simple light of her womanly nature.
Ferdinand Ferrer found her sleeping the deep sleep of the exhausted just when he awoke. He slipped out of bed, and dressed shakily but noiselessly. He did not stop to drink his coffee, so eager was he not to hear the sound of his wife's voice. He took his coffee, firmly laced with brandy, at a cafe opposite his office. Then he made haste to read his morning's letters and dictate the answers to them. That task performed, he left word that he would not return that day, and fled the office.
From the point of view of his nerves, the action was wise. From the point of view of his wife, it was unwise. When at twelve o'clock she came to the office with the intention of accompanying him to the restaurant at which he was wont to take his déjeuner, and continuing her appeal to his better feelings, only to find that he had put himself out of her reach for the day, her worse suspicions were confirmed, and she returned home thrice resolved to have the truth from him, and have it in spite of himself.
M. Vaillant called on her in the afternoon, and found her in the very temper he had hoped to induce. The fury of the injured wife was burning with a steady glow; she could hardly find words to express her feeling about her Ferdinand's unmanly reticence. M. Vaillant was deeply sympathetic; but he admitted that her husband's conduct must confirm the worst suspicions of the Society for the Preservation of Domestic Felicity. He begged her to be as firm with the erring man as her womanly weakness and compassion would allow. She assured him, several times and with emphasis, that he need have no fear of her failing in firmness. He came away from the house with a strong expectation that she would procure for him the information he desired.
Ferdinand Ferrer did not return to dinner. He returned an hour later than their usual bedtime in the faint hope of finding his wife asleep. He found her waiting for him, and with no delay she began the discussion of the points at issue between them.
Ferdinand Ferrer did not come to the discussion unprepared. He had made two hearty meals; he had slept three hours that afternoon; and he had procured for his nerves a strong sedative from his doctor. He was resolved to endure. The methods of the Third Degree are of much less effect against a man who takes those unfair advantages of his fourteen hours respite from them; but even so at five o'clock in the morning Ferdinand Ferrer was feeling uncertain that life was worth living.
He was not so fortunate in his escape that day: his wife awoke as he slipped out of bed; and he left the house without that air of self-satisfaction, almost jauntiness, which in the earlier, happier days his neighbours had found so trying at halt-past eight in the morning. He scamped his work in the same way as he had scamped it the day before; and he devoted the rest of the day to recovering from the effects of his wife's application of the Third Degree during the night.
ON THE AFTERNOON of that day Jasper Forbes found Lord Fleetham in the smoking-room of the Turf. Lord Fleetham was now approaching his thirty-fifth year; and of those thirty-five years it is hardly too much to say that twenty had been ill-spent. He had lived high and idiotically. An inveterate gambler, he had been and was consistently unfortunate at cards and racing. In games of pure chance he had no luck; in games of mingled skill and chance he had no head. He was a bad judge of a horse, and a worse of a man. It had, therefore, been the fortune of his father, the Marquess of Gillingham, to pay his more pressing debts five times; and though the Gillingham rent-roll was large those payments had had the effects of giving it a shrivelled air.
Jasper Forbes friendly greeting caused Lord Fleetham's weak, vacuous, petulant, and dissipated face to light up with pleased surprise. His perpetual habit of borrowing and never paying had made his friends and acquaintances so shy of displaying any affability to him at a friendly greeting rarely came from any of them, and Jasper Forbes had been one of those slight acquaintances who had showed every disposition to keep the acquaintance slight.
At once Lord Fleetham suggested a game of snooker; and Jasper Forbes, for purely diplomatic reasons into which the question of skill did not enter, lost the game to him. One game led to several; and each fresh game was another stone in the edifice which Lord Fleetham's kindly heart began to raise round this affable explorer.
They dined together, and the dinner and the loan of ten pounds after it cemented those stones together; and in the small hours of the morning Lord Fleetham was pouring his trivial and frequently grotesque sorrows into the patient and quite unsympathetic ears of the sleepy explorer. In the course of a varied life Jasper Forbes had met many bores, but he had never met anything quite so dreadful as his newly-acquired, but self-centred, bosom friend. He did not on that account flinch. He was inured to hardship.
He met Lord Fleetham the next afternoon, and spent another confidential evening with him. It was years since Lord Fleetham had met anyone so truly sympathetic, for his hearing was not good enough to enable him to catch the grinding of Jasper Forbes' teeth when he related for the eleventh time the story of how he had been welched out of the one big win of his life, nor could he divine that the fourth relation of hiss snubbing by Miss Elsie Beauregard, of the Varieties, only inspired in the attentive explorer a burning desire to wring his neck.
It was on the fourth day that Jasper Forbes gained his reward. In the course of a game of snooker he abused the staleness of London from a full heart, and declared that he must be getting out of it. Lord Fleetham paused before a stroke, and said, "Do you play auction?"
"Do I play auction? I played it in Turkey and about the Levant for five years before it reached England," said Jasper Forbes.
"Then why not come to Gillingham? We've got a little party there next Friday for a few days to make up a rubber at auction for my governor. He's deathly keen on it," said Lord Fleetham.
"Good air?" said Jasper Forbes.
"Best in England," said Lord Fleetham enthusiastically in his joy at the thought of cheering his stay in the home of his ancestors with the society of his new bosom friend.
"Right you are. I shall be delighted. It would be a pity we shouldn't see some more of one another. We get on so well," said the deceitful Jasper Forbes.
AT THE MOMENT at which the explorer gained his end, Ferdinand Ferrer was sleeping heavily in the hotel bedroom in which he spent his recuperating afternoons. Madame Ferrer still held firmly to her purpose of dragging from him the name and business of his red-haired client; he still held firmly to his purpose of acquiring the rubies and saving his skin by a manly reticence.
But the strain of the nightly application of the Third Degree was telling on him. He was no longer obliged to unfasten the two bottom buttons of his waistcoat after each of the hearty meals he loved; he was fatally comfortable without unbuttoning. The strain of strenuous endeavour, on the other hand, was telling on his wife; the fine expanse of her face was shrinking from the edges. The peaceful domesticity, so dear to the stout, which they had enjoyed uninterrupted for months, ever since Madame Ferrer's last fit of jealousy, was destroyed. But with single-hearted intensity she clung to her purpose and her method.
Four days later her husband was compelled to buy a new, but considerably less expanded, suit of clothes. He was being assailed in his citadel, the hotel bedroom. He no longer slept soundly. Sometimes visions of his wife applying the Third Degree intruded on his slumbers and tore him from them quailing; sometimes he awoke to a more dreadful horror from visions of her tearing the beautiful red hair from Kitty Meredith's head. He no longer brought to his meals the robust and gigantic appetite which had been his pride and his joy, an appetite worthy a man several sizes larger than he. His shrinking had not been lost on the inexorable wife of his bosom. He was weakening; the time was at hand for the final effort. Two days later she made it.
Ferdinand Ferrer rose shakily from a night of horror in which, after the application of the Third Degree had ceased, dreadful visions had carried on its nerve-destroying work. Madame Ferrer rose, too, resolved and grim; and suddenly her reticent husband found her left hand in his curls, and her right hand smacking his face with all the vigour of a heavy arm.
"Confess, perjured villain! Confess!" cried Madame Ferrer, as she smote his soft cheek.
"Ow! Ow! Ow!" bowled the unfortunate Ferdinand.
"Confess!" she cried, and shook him and smote.
Ferdinand Ferrer's dogged resolution broke with a snap, and he howled, "I will tell—I will tell!"
His outraged wife loosed him and said sternly, "Who is the red-haired hussy?"
Ferdinand Ferrer sat down in a chair and in a voice broken by sobs said, "She is Mees Kitty Meredith—an English demoiselle."
"Demoiselle!" sneered Madame Ferrer. "What does on English demoiselle do in the office of an honest diamond merchant?"
"She is—selling me—rubies—the Geellingham rubies—for two hundred and fifty thousand francs," sobbed Ferdinand Ferrer.
That afternoon M. Vaillant despatched a telegram in cipher to his London correspondent. It ran:—"Kitty Meredith has undertaken to sell the Gillingham rubies to Ferdinand Ferrer for two hundred and fifty thousand francs."
THE Blue Room at Gillingham Castle is hardly at all changed from what it was in 1750. The Chippendale furniture and the cedar panelling of the walls have perhaps darkened a little, and have taken a finer polishing from the accomplished and vigorous hands of many sturdy housemaids. The colouring of the pictures by the Caraccis and Carlo Dolce have faded a little. But only the electric light fittings are new. It is a somewhat sombre room, for the cedar panels are dark with age; but on that June morning, with the summer sun streaming in through the long windows opening on to the garden, and wide open, it was bright enough—a charming, old-world room.
The Marquess of Gillingham, a tall, thick-set man of 57, with a heavy face, ruddy and clear-skinned from his open-air life and his perpetual riding, with stiff whiskers which gave him the air of a butler, came strolling along the garden terrace. With him came the Countess of Sarratt, that well-known figure in the polite world, much better known, indeed, than the Marquess of Gillingham, a pretty fair-haired woman of thirty, shrewd, and of an uncommonly cheerful spirit. Her face wore its wonted air of contented cheerfulness; and the face of the Marquess wore its equally wonted air of gloom. For several years he had suffered badly from the vagaries of Lord Fleetham and from the bitter conviction that the country was going to the dogs. The thought that it would last his time was of no consolation to a man of his stern old-English temperament.
They came through the long windows into the Blue Room, across it, and, through the curtains in the middle of its right wall into an inner room opening from it, a circular room, the second storey of one of the castle towers, called the Tower Chamber. Under its broad windows an expanse of meadows and woodland set with silver streams stretched away for ten miles. Lady Sarratt sat down in an easy chair; and the Marquess went to the window and stared gloomily out of it.
"You seem very gloomy this morning. What's the matter?" said Lady Sarratt.
"Fleetham is bothering me for more money. There's no doubt about it; he's getting worse every year," said the Marquess bitterly.
"He is a trial," said Lady Sarratt, with genuine sympathy.
"I'm tired of paying his debts. It has become an annual event; and every year the amount grows larger. He's had a hundred and eighty thousand pounds in the last few years."
"That's pretty stiff," said Lady Sarratt in a tone of some surprise.
"And that only means that I've paid his pressing debts," said the Marquess. "He must owe another seventy or eighty thousand."
"It's a good job that you've plenty of money," said Lady Sarratt in a consoling tone.
"But that's just it," said the Marquess, turning his frowning face to her. "The property won't stand this constant drain. The rent-roll has sunk to a beggarly forty thousand a year; and there isn't a sign of coal or iron anywhere on any of my estates."
"Then Fleetham's son-if he ever has one—won't have any forty thousand a year," said Lady Sarratt thoughtfully.
"Forty thousand a year? Fleetham's son?" cried the Marquess. "When Fleetham succeeds me, he'll beggar himself in five years."
"It looks like it," said Lady Sarratt compassionately.
The marquess strolled restlessly through the curtains into the Blue Room, tech out his cigarette case, took a cigarette from it, and set the case down on the table. He lighted the cigarette, and gazed gloomily at the Countess of Sarratt. Her brow was puckered by a thoughtful frown.
Of a sudden it grew smooth, and she said, "Well, there's only one cure for him."
"What's that?" said the' marquess eagerly.
"An American wife," said Lady Sarratt.
The marquess, frowned afresh. "The Gillinghams do not marry American wives," he said stiffly.
"It's never too late to mend," said Lady Sarratt with unruffled cheerfulness. "Besides, It's Fleetham's last chance. He wants managing; and an American wife would manage him properly. They have the knack. Why, if it were necessary, she'd bully him into sobriety and thrift."
"The Gillinghams are hard to bully," said the marquess coldly. "I've tried bullying Fleetham. It only makes him worse—more slippery."
"But a woman does it so differently," objected Lady Sarratt.
"No. The result of her bullying would be that in a year or so she would set about divorcing him; and then we should have the open scandal I've paid a hundred and eighty thousand pounds to avoid," said the marquess stubbornly.
"Not a bit of it," said Lady Sarratt with conviction. "No woman would marry Fleetham except for the purpose of becoming Marchioness of Gillingham; and having once married him, she wouldn't let anything he could do stop her attaining her ambition."
"That's true," said the marquess, with the air of one convinced.
"Then you'll consider it?"
"I will. But it's a painful expedient," slid the marquess, "And at any rate there's nothing to be done at present; Fleetham seems to be bent on marrying Miss Lessing."
"Everybody seems to be bent on marrying Miss Lessing," said Lady Sarratt with a sigh. "Fleetham is bent on marrying her, and Flaunden, and even this new friend of Fleetham's, Jasper Forbes. I never was at such a dull house-party. She absorbs everybody."
"She's a very attractive girl," said the marquess, brightening a little.
"Oh, yes; one doesn't grudge Barbara anything, of course," said Lady Sarratt amiably. "What a pity it is that General Lessing lost all his money in Siberian Consolidated. What a Marchioness of Gillingham she would make! Now, she could wear the Gillingham rubies properly-not as if she were a show-case, but as of they were part of her-You know what I mean?"
"Yes, I know," said the marquess, without any enthusiasm. "But those considerations are—er—er—somewhat unpleasant. There can't be a Marchioness to wear the Gillingham rubies while I'm alive, don't you know?"
"Well, there ought to be," said Lady Sarratt firmly. "It really annoys me to think of those magnificent stones shut up in a safe year after year, giving no one any more pleasure than if they had been dug out of their original mines."
"Well, no one but a Marchioness of Gillingham wears them," said the marquess.
"Then you ought to marry again for their sake; you ought, really."
"No, I've been married once, and once is enough," said the marquess with decision.
"Why, you might marry an American heiress yourself. You're only fifty-seven," said Lady Sarratt, with the air of one struck by a happy idea.
"No; it's a matter on which I entertain very strong opinions. A marquess cannot with any propriety marry twice," said the Marquess with a judicial air.
"Marquesses do," said Lady Sarratt.
"They do; and I deplore it," said the Marquess stiffly.
"But those poor rubies!" said Lady Sarratt with a sigh. "And how splendid it would be to restore the family fortunes—like they do in a book. Wouldn't you like to do that?"
"I do not know what they do in books. The Gillinghams do not read books—not after they leave school," said the Marquess even more stiffly.
"Well, if you won't, you won't," said Lady Sarratt; and she seemed to plunge into reflection. The Marquess smoked on.
Presently she said;—"I can never make out where Barbara gets the money from to live as she does. I meet her everywhere, dressed by the best Frenchmen, holding her own with anyone, playing bridge—auction bridge, for any stakes anyone suggests."
"She plays a fine game, and she wins—heavily," said the Marquess.
"And she loses at times—heavily," said Lady Sarratt. "Auction bridge is not a steady income for a first-class player like ordinary bridge was. Besides, to my certain knowledge she has spent over £2,000 in the last two years on different foreign doctors and foreign cures for the curvature of the spine of that unfortunate sister of hers. Where does the money come from?"
"General Lessing had many friends. He was one of the most popular men in London," said the Marquess.
"He had, and I've no doubt that several of them offered Barbara the post of governess to their children at £10 a year." said Lady Sarratt scornfully. There came a knock at the door, and a very large, thick, and important-looking footman entered, bringing a card on a gold salver. He carried it to the Marquess, and said, "It you please, your Lordship, the gentleman wishes to see your Lordship on very important and urgent business."
The Marquess put on his eyeglass, took the card, and read it, "Mr. Absalom Gomme?" he said. "Who is Mr. Absalom Gomme? I never heard of him."
Lady Sarratt's face grew suddenly very bright.
"Absalom Gomme! You never heard of Absalom Gomme!" she cried. "Oh, Marquess! And Gillingham is only six miles from a railway station! Absalom Gomme is the biggest crank in London—with the reddest hair! He's a teetotaller and a vegetarian; and his hobby is the detection of crime."
The Marquess looked anxiously over his shoulder at the left-hand corner of the room, and his left hand stole up to the top pocket of his waistcoat.
"I wonder if his business has anything to do with the rubies?" he said anxiously.
"Those rubies must be an awful worry; why don't you keep them at the bank?" said Lady Barrett.
"The Gillinghams do not keep their jewels in banks," said the Marquess stiffly.
"Well, see Mr. Gomme here—do," said Lady Barrett. "I'm dying to hear what he's come about."
"If his business is important and urgent, it's probably private," said the Marquess, hesitating.
"You needn't bother about that; if Absalom Gomme doesn't want me to hear it, he'll tell me to go. It's his way," said Lady Sarratt.
"Where is he, Jenkins?" said the Marquess.
"In the yellow room, your lordship."
"With his red hair! Oh, Jenkins, how could, you show him into the yellow room?" cried Lady Sarratt.
"Strange gentlemen are always shown into the yellow room, your ladyship," said the unmoved Jenkins.
"I'd better go to him," said the Marquess, rising.
"No, no; have him brought here, Jenkins," persisted Lady Sarratt.
"Very well; bring him here, Jenkins," said the Marquess, yielding the point.
"Yes, your lordship," said Jenkins, and he went out of the room with a very stately air.
"Absalom's a dear!" said Lady Sarratt with enthusiasm. "Fancy your not knowing Absalom!"
"I can't know everyone," said the Marquess-testily. "Who is he?"
"He's the one and only Absalom Gomme. He knows everyone and goes everywhere, and he lectures us all on our eating and drinking and smoking and drug-taking and sleeping and exercise. He always says just what he thinks, and we take it like lambs, because if we didn't he wouldn't care a bang," said Lady Sarratt, still with enthusiasm.
"Yes, yes; but what is he?" said the Marquess impatiently.
"He is an American."
"I knew it!" cried the Marquess in a tone of despair.
"Oh, but he's fairly English, too, though he won't admit it. You see, he went from Harvard to Oxford. And he has fifty thousand a year. His father was a millionaire—a multi-millionaire. He made his money in currants."
"Currants!" groaned the Marquess.
"One must make one's money in something, and currants are very useful—at Christmas time," said Lady Sarratt, warmly.
"And what a name! Gomme—Absalom Gomme!" wailed the Marquess.
"Oh, his name's nothing to his hair," said Lady Sarratt.
Jenkins entered the room, threw wide the door, and said in the sonorous voice of an ancient herald, "Mr. Absalom Gomme."
Absalom Gomme entered briskly, a young man of twenty-eight, tall, large, and thick, with a big, round, very pink face, beaming with a cheerful, kindly simplicity. His nose was not much to speak of, but what there was of it was straight. His eyes of the bluest blue and very bright and keen would have relieved the ugliness of a far uglier face than his. They qualified his air of simplicity considerably. His lips were well-formed but rather small for his big face. His hair was not auburn, or bronze, or copper-coloured; it was red—plain carrots. He was dressed in an admirably cut suit of light tweed; he wore a straw hat, and carried a light cane. He bowed to the Marquess, the easy, graceful bow of a man entirely at his case, and said:
"Good morning. Lord Gillingham. A thousand apologies for descending on you so early in the morning; but my business-" He stopped short at the sight of Lady Sarratt, and a very pleasant smile illumined his face.
"Ah, Lady Sarratt, how are you?" he said, and shook hands warmly with her.
"How are you, Mr. Gomme?" said lady Sarratt, smiling her pleasantest in her turn. "I hope you're not going to send me away. I'm dying to hear what your urgent business is. I hope it isn't private. My curiosity is positively blazing."
"Oh, no; only urgent," said Absalom cheerfully, and he turned to the Marquess and added, "I have come down from London, to warn your lordship that the Gillingham rubies are in danger."
"Danger? The rubies? What danger?" said the Marquess; and he cast an anxious glance at the left-hand corner of the room, and his left hand rose to the top pocket of his waistcoat.
"Kitty Meredith is planning to steal them," said Absalom.
"And who is Kitty Meredith?" said the Marquess.
"She's the veritable queen of the English crooks," said Absalom with on almost joyous air.
"Crooks? What is a crook?" asked the Marquess in some bewilderment.
"A crook is a criminal," said Lady Sarratt, with the proud air of one imparting useful information.
"I do not use slang, and I do not profess to understand it," said the Marquess coldly.
"Crook is the technical term," said Absalom, unruffled by the rebuke. "I have been assured that Kitty Meredith is the head of one of the cleverest and most daring gangs of criminals in Europe—an international gang, for in some of her coups criminal experts pretend to see the ingenuity of my fellow-countrymen."
"Ah, I understand," said the Marquess.
"But I'm of the opinion that she works chiefly alone, or at any rate only with one or two confederates," said Absalom. "Well, yesterday afternoon I received a wire from one of my Paris correspondents—a first-class man on whom I have great reliance—to inform me that Kitty Meredith has undertaken to deliver the Gillingham rubies to Ferdinand Ferrer for ten thousand pounds."
"And who is Ferdinand Ferrer?" said the Marquess, and his anxious eyes sought the corner of the room, his left hand his waistcoat pocket.
"Ferdinand Ferrer is believed to be one of the greatest Continental fences," said Absalom.
"What's a fence, Mr. Gomme?" said Lady Sarratt.
"A fence is a receiver of stolen goods, and this man Ferrer is believed to purchase their plunder from the big international jewel thieves and sell it in the East and in the States. I need scarcely say that so far he hasn't been detected, or he wouldn't be buying the Gillingham rubies. They'll be the finest haul he ever made. And Kitty Meredith will get them for him."
The Marquess suddenly turned very red, and his eyes sparkled.
"Really, Mr. Gomme, you don't expect me to take this seriously," he said, with a note of angry contempt in his voice.
"Indeed I do," said Absalom firmly. "If Kitty Meredith has undertaken to deliver the Gillingham rubies to Ferdinand Ferrer, deliver them she will."
"A woman steal the Gillingham rabies? Absurd!" said the Marquess scornfully.
"You don't know Kitty Meredith, Lord Gillingham. I do. She's not a woman; she's a wonder," said Absalom with conviction.
"Surely it's not the pretty girl who was at the Strodes' house party last year—the pretty girl with the green eyes and red hair?" cried Lady Sarratt.
"That's the girl," said Absalom.
"The girl Dymchurch wanted to marry?" said Lady Sarratt.
"Yes," said Absalom.
"And you were in love with-?"
"Never!" cried Absalom, frowning. "I could not be in love with a girl with green eyes and red hair."
"But you were," said lady Sarratt.
"It would be quite impossible," said Absalom firmly. "She could not possibly be my scientific complement. My scientific complement would have dark eyes and dark hair, and a man can only love his scientific complement."
"And am I to understand that you have come all the way from London to tell me that this red-haired young lady is planning the theft of the Gillingham rubies, Mr. Gomme?" interrupted the Marquess impatiently.
"I have indeed," said Absalom gravely.
"Not seriously?" said the Marquess.
"Quite," said Absalom. "You don't realise that Kitty Meredith is a genius—a criminal genius. I was with her at Strodes' for a whole fortnight for hours every day, talking to her; playing bridge and croquet. I grow intimate with her-"
"Fell in love with her," interjected lady Sarratt.
"No," said Absalom emphatically. "Well, there, as lady Sarratt says, she was a pretty girl, with bright green eyes, red hair, a charming, clear complexion; and a high, metallic voice. Wasn't she, Lady Sarratt?"
"That is her exact description," said Lady Sarratt.
"Well, a month—Just one month later—I met her again, talked to her, and did not know her. I never as much as suspected that I had ever met her before In my life. She had changed into a brown-haired, heavy, mud-faced girl, with a deep voice and dull, grey-green eyes."
"It's impossible! No one can change the colour of their eyes," cried lady Sarratt.
"Experts tell me that they can by painting the lashes; and I believe that that's what she did. I think that her eyes must really be a light blue," said Absalom.
"But was it the same girl? Are you sure?" said Lady Sarratt.
"Dead sure," said Absalom. "I learnt it for an absolute fact afterwards, when it was too late—after she had relieved Sir Fritz Mannheim of the famous Brescelio Botticelli, and get safely away with it under my very eyes."
"Then she must be a wonder," said Lady Sarratt.
"She is," said Absalom. "I've had three hard-fought battles with her—lost two and drew one."
"Three battles with the same girl? It must be fate," said Lady Sarratt. An expression of pain darkened Absalom's cheerful face.
"Coincidence, Lady Sarratt—coincidence. Let us at least be scientific," he said in a deprecating tone. "There is no fate in the twentieth century."
"But three coincidences," said Lady Sarratt in a tone of remonstrance.
"That's quite natural," said Absalom quickly. "She and I move in the same stratum of society. She preys on it, and its my hobby to protect it. So, of course, we're always coming into contact. And if she has made up her mind to get the Gillingham rubies, get them she will—unless I intervene and prevent her."
The Marquess put his hand into his waistcoat pocket, and said in a tone of supreme confidence, "No woman will ever steal the Gillingham rubies."
"No woman but Kitty Meredith, Lord Gillingham," said Absalom quietly.
"Not even Kitty Meredith," said the Marquess with the same confidence.
"She is probably already in the Castle." said Absalom quietly.
"That's out of the question," said the Marquess, and his eyes flew to the corner of the room, his hand to his waistcoat pocket.
"Then her confederate, or confederates are," said Absalom.
"This is quite exciting," said Lady Sarratt, joyfully.
"My servants are above suspicion," said the Marquess stiffly.
"No one is above suspicion—scientifically," said Absalom. "Besides, your servants are not the only people in the Castle. There are your guests and their servants."
The Marquess flushed again. "My guests?" he said, hotly. "Really, Mr. Gomme, this approaches the—er—er—outrageous. My guests are above suspicion."
"But this is positively thrilling!" cried Lady Sarratt. "Do you suspect me. Mr. Gomme?"
"Certainly, I suspect everyone," said Absalom, cheerfully. "It's my method—purely scientific."
"Thank you—so much." said Lady Sarratt in a tone of some mortification.
"Don't mention it," said Absalom, kindly. "Really, you are above suspicion, of course. You have so much money. Nevertheless, for scientific reasons, I continue to suspect you."
"Thank you, again—polite American," said Lady Sarratt, and she put out the tip of a very pink tongue at him.
"It's really a compliment to be suspected of being a confederate of Kitty Meredith's. I'm sure that she must choose such very able ones," said the unruffled Absalom. Then he turned to the Marquess, and added, "Well, Lord Gillingham, I have given you my warning. I can do no more."
"Oh, yes, you can," said Lady Sarratt, quickly. "You can stay and catch Kitty Meredith. I should so love to see you do it."
"Ah," said Absalom with a deep sigh. "The day that I hand Kitty Meredith over to the police will be the happiest day of my life."
"I'm very much obliged to you for the trouble you have taken, Mr. Gomme," said the Marquess of Gillingham, rather stiffly. "But really it was needless. If this Kitty Meredith or her confederates were in the Castle, they would be a very long way from getting the rubies. This castle, like all the castles of the period, has a secret room, which is only known to the head of the house-"
"And, of course, to the wife of the head of the house, who tells her bosom friend, who tells her husband—oh, Marquess, what confidence!" said Lady Sarratt, laughing joyously.
"No!" said the Marquess sharply. "I have told the secret to no one in my life—I have never told Fleetham even, though sometimes the heir is told the secret of the room as soon as he really arrives at years of discretion."
"You will certainly have to wait some time before Fleetham gets there," said Lady Sarratt in a sympathetic tone.
"Well, the rubies are not only in this secret room, but forty years ago my father took a further precaution. He bought a small steel safe—had it specially made for him, in fact; and I and our butler—a perfectly trustworthy man, who died, unmarried, two or three years later—helped him place it in the secret room. It was not so difficult with the tackle the workmen left."
"They made very good safes forty years ago," said Absalom thoughtfully.
"This one is as good as they could make, and it's cemented into the wall. The rubies are in that safe," said the Marquess triumphantly.
"It sound as if they were as secure as if they were in the vaults of the Bank of England," said Lady Sarratt, deeply impressed.
"Moreover, you must bear in mind that when this—er—er—accomplished young lady has discovered where the secret room is she has to find where the key of the safe is. No one in the world but myself knows where the secret room or that key is," said the Marquess in a tone of final triumph, and he gazed proudly at Lady Sarratt.
Absalom Gomme laughed softly; then he said, "As to that, Lord Gillingham, I can tell you where the secret room is, and where you keep the key of the safe."
THE Marquess stared at Absalom; and Lady Sarratt stared at Absalom.
"You know where the secret room is?" said the Marquess, incredulously.
"And the keys," said Absalom, calmly.
"You're joking!" cried the Marquess.
"Would you give two minutes to show the Lord Gillingham that I'm not such a fool as I look?" said Absalom to Lady Sarratt.
"Certainly. But that oughtn't to take you two minutes," said Lady Sarratt; and she went out through the long windows, laughing.
Absalom went to the left-hand corner of the room, and rapped sharply on the last panel, then on the next, and stopped at it with his hand resting on it.
"The secret room is behind this panel," he said, confidently, tapping it lightly with his fingers.
The Marquess gasped. "And the keys?" he said, faintly.
"The keys are in the left-hand pocket—the top left-hand pocket of your waistcoat," said Absalom with the same confidence.
"B-b-but how d-d-did you learn it?" stammered the Marquess.
"It was the simplest thing in the world," said Absalom, cheerfully. "You must remember that I have been practising my hobby—the detection of crime—for the last four years; and in the course of that time I have naturally acquired pretty keen powers of observation. I have trained them carefully. I noticed that whenever the Gillingham rubies were mentioned, you looked anxiously at the left-hand corner of the room, and your hand went to the top left-hand pocket of your waistcoat."
"Did it?" said the Marquess, with some irritation.
"Every time," said Absalom.
"I—I—must break myself of these habits," said the Marquess.
"Yes; but I fancy it is rather too late to break yourself of them as far as Kitty Meredith is concerned. In fact, I'm sure of it. It's a dead certainty that she knows where the secret room and the keys were, before ever she undertook to deliver the rubies to Ferdinand Ferrer," said Absalom with conviction.
"But how could she?" said the Marquess,
"Most likely she has stayed here and observed these habits of yours herself," said Absalom.
"Never!" snapped the Marquess.
"Under one of her many Protean forms—or, if she hasn't observed them herself, some agent of hers has, and has taken the information to her," said Absalom. "It comes to exactly the same thing."
The door opened, and Lord Fleetham came into the room, his querulous face more querulous than usual.
"Hang it all! Why can't we-" he began; and stopped short at the sight of Absalom. "Why, it's Gomme! Who'd have thought of seeing you here? How are you, old chap?" he cried, hurrying to him.
"How are you, my blithe and bonny Pinky?" said Absalom cheerily; and he slapped Lord Fleetham on the back with hearty warmth.
Lord Fleetham jumped, howled, and spat like a cat.
"Sorry—sorry—forgot your morning nerves, old chap," said Absalom, in a tone of swift contrition.
"You always forget 'em—always," wailed Lord Fleetham.
"Ah, Pinky, Pinky, why won't you cut off alcohol? I've told you again and again that it's ruining your brain-cells. I've explained the whole scientific process to you ten times, if I've explained it once," said Absalom sorrowfully.
"Yes, yes; don't do it again—not this morning," said Lord Fleetham hastily.
"You're destroying them. And you have so few to destroy," said Absalom more sorrowfully still.
"Lord Fleetham has as many brain-cells as anyone else," said the Marquess, very stiffly.
"Yes—yes; of course he has. In my haste and sorrow I spoke unscientifically—it must be their quality," said Absalom, regarding Lord Fleetham earnestly.
"Get out!" said Lord Fleetham shortly.
"It's a subject on which I feel deeply, Lord Gillingham," said Absalom, turning to the Marquess. "Alcohol is the curse of the country; and if I had the power, I'd destroy every public-house, café, saloon, beer-garden, vineyard, brewery, and distillery in the world."
"Ah, shut it—shut it. In the mornin', too—It's shockin'," said Lord Fleetham in a tone of deep disgust.
"I would," said Absalom firmly.
"And what, Mr. Gomme, would become of the market for our potato crop?" said the Marquess with his most statesmanlike air.
"Our what?" said Absalom.
"Our potato crop—the great basis of our liquor industry," said the Marquess firmly. "When I was in the Cabinet I went Into these matters—at least my secretaries did for me."
"If fewer potatoes were drunk, more would be eaten," said Absalom with equal firmness. "Meat and drink are the curse of the country."
There is no saying to what heights, or to what heats, the discussion might have risen, had not Lady Sarratt, impatient to hear whether Absalom had demonstrated to the Marquess that he really knew where the secret room and the keys were, came in through the long windows. On her heels came Lord Fleetham's bosom friend, the Earl of Tilcombe, a man of thirty, short and slight, with a rather weazened and whimsical, not to say cranky, face.
"Why, it's Gomme," he cried, as his eyes fell on Absalom. "How are you, old chap?"
"How are you, Billy?" said Absalom.
"He's turned on the tap," said Lord Fleetham to the Earl of Tilcombe, very gloomily.
"Not the temperance lecture?" cried the Earl of Tilcombe.
"Yes," said Lord Fleetham, gloomily.
"Before lunch? I'll be shot If I know where he gets the energy from," said the Earl of Tilcombe, regarding Absalom solemnly. "When we're all as limp as boiled rags, you're spouting away like a blessed fountain. How you do it beats me. How do you do it?"
"I live scientifically, my bright-eyed Billy," said Absalom. "But I cannot stay here improving your minds and characters all this sunny day. I must vamoose. I'm very busy. I've got a day and a night's work before me at least—perhaps more."
"Oh, no; you mustn't run away like this. I haven't had a word with you, and there are a dozen things I want to talk over with you. Ask him to stay, Marquess," said Lady Sarratt quickly.
"Yes, hang it. You needn't bolt the moment I set eyes on you! I want to consult you—important business. Ask him to stay, governor," cried Lord Fleetham with even greater fervour, for he could not bear that Absalom, on whose good nature he was wont to trespass, should depart without making him a loan.
"Yes; he mustn't go before he's given us our usual sermon. It'll brighten us up. We're not very crisp," said the Earl of Tilcombe; and he laughed, a sudden, shrill, cracked, crowing laugh, inexpressibly grating.
"And he'll just make up another table at auction; and there won't be three of us out all the time. He can take the place that rotter Morningside was to have filled," said Lord Fleetham.
The face of the Marquess brightened and beamed. "Does Mr. Gomme play auction bridge?" he said quickly.
"A ripping game," said his son.
"And he always explains to Pinky how the last three drinks got at his blessed brain-cells and made him revoke. It's very crisp," said the Earl of Tilcombe; and as he spoke his eyes fall on the Marquess's cigarette case, which still lay on the table; and they grow suddenly bright with a bird-like brightness.
"It isn't the drinks; it's my eyes. I'm always telling him so," protested Lord Fleetham querulously.
The Earl of Tilcombe sidled towards the cigarette case with very cunning eyes. The Marquess of Gillingham was looking at Absalom with a sudden warmth in his glance. Auction bridge was the object of the house-party; he had been disappointed by Lord Morningside; here was a player to fill the vacant place.
"I hope you will say with us a few days, Mr. Gomme," he said warmly. "I should like to discuss the matter about which you came down, at greater length. But, of course, if you must got away to your work, you must. Couldn't you do it here?"
Absalom looked at the Marquess thoughtfully. He had two reasons for accepting an invitation to stay at Gillingham Castle; one of them was this very piece of work, the capture of Kitty Meredith.
The Earl of Tilcombe took advantage of the fact that the others were gazing at Absalom to slip the Marquess's cigarette case in his pocket. Then he beamed.
"I shall be charmed," said Absalom. "As it happens, I can do this particular piece of work as well, or even better, here. It's merely a scientific problem I'm working out."
"Then if you will write out a wire for your man and your clothes, a groom can ride over to Rowington with it at once, and they'll be here before dinner," said the Marquess.
"Thank you," said Absalom. "But there's no need. My man and my clothes are at the railway hotel at Rowington. My car is at the door, and my chauffeur can fetch them."
"Your tie's all crooked, Pinky," said the Earl of Tilcombe.
Lord Fleetham looked in a mirror and burst into a heated defence of the straightness of his tie. Absalom lowered his voice, and said, "I was going to watch over those rubies from the outside—for my own satisfaction, for the chance of catching Kitty Meredith. I was trusting to luck—coincidence, I mean. From the inside it will be a very different matter—much easier."
"I shall be much interested in the results of your investigations," said the Marquess.
"It will be quite exciting," said Lady Sarratt joyfully.
"Yes; but not a word to anyone, please," said Absalom.
"It will be delightful having you. You'll be able to lecture Pinky and the Earl of Tilcombe on their vices all day long," said Lady Sarratt, seeing that those two worthies had settled the matter of the straightness of the tie, and were listening.
"And you, too," said Absalom firmly.
"I have no vices," said Lady Sarratt.
"Oh, yes you have," said Absalom quickly. "You're a meat-eater, an abandoned meat-eater."
On his words there came in through the long windows the second good reason for his accepting an invitation to stay at Gillingham Castle, in the person of Miss Barbara Lessing.
She was indeed a beautiful creature. Her clear-skinned, rather pale face was framed in a soft mass of brown hair, full of golden gleams when a bright light fell on it. Her nose was straight, the nostril delicate; her mouth was a little large, but none the less attractive for that, with its full, curved, scarlet lips. Her eyes were her greatest charm, grey and deep, almost black in moments of emotion, and extraordinarily candid and steadfast. Her figure was slim and supple, and she had the further charm of one of those rare, liquid, golden voices, ravishing the ear. With her entered Miss Cantelune, one of those fair, fresh, out-of-door English girls, vigorously ready for any kind of amusement. At their heels came Jasper Forbes.
At the sight of Absalom, Barbara smiled with pleasure, and then her face clouded a little. She came to him with outstretched hand, and said: "You here, Mr. Gomme? How are you?"
"Yes," said Absalom, shaking hands with her. "The Marquess has been so good as to invite me to make up another auction table for you. So once more we shall engage in battle."
"How are you, Gomme?" said Jasper Forbes, nodding to Absalom.
"Ah, how is the bonny boy?" said Absalom, with a faint touch of hostility in his tone, for no love was lost between him and the explorer.
"How are you, Mr. Gomme? Mr. Forbes does nothing but scrap with Miss Lessing from morning till night," said Miss Cantelune, shaking hands with Absalom.
"Does he now?" said Absalom. "It looks to me a rather foolish way of spending one's time. I should never dream of scrapping with Miss Lessing."
"You're too intelligent," said Lady Sarratt.
"Scrapping? I wasn't scrapping," said Jasper Forbes in on injured tone. "I just told her an amusing story; and she jumped on me like a cartload of bricks."
"I don't see anything amusing in it," said Barbara coldly.
"I think it was perfectly horrid," said Miss Cantelune.
"Nonsense, Miss Cantelune. There's nothing horrid in it. Women never will take a rational view of things. The game's the game; and collecting ivory isn't mushroom-gathering," said Jasper Forbes in a sulky tone. "Besides, you should have seen old Ginger-face."
"And who was old Ginger-face?" said Lady Sarratt.
"Chief of a tribe fifty miles north of the Chodda, in the Adamana country. We called him old Ginger-face because that was what he looked like. I was telling them how I got his ivory."
"He kidnapped one of the chief's sons-a little boy—and hid him in the bush till his mother told where the ivory was hidden," said Barbara indignantly.
"And then he stole it," said Miss Cantelune.
"Nonsense! You can't steal from a nigger. Besides, I was collecting ivory. I wasn't gathering mushrooms," said Jasper Forbes, angrily.
"I've always thought that it's all the same to our bonny boy whether he's north, south, east, or west of Suez," said Absalom; and he considered the explorer's predatory face thoughtfully.
"There's no doubt that dear old Jasper's a bit thick in places," said the Earl of Tilcombe cheerfully.
"I expect you got most of your ivory in that way," said Absalom, in the dispassionate tone of one acquiring ethnological facts.
"It wasn't always as simple as that," said Jasper Forbes, simply.
"Hardly above suspicion," said Absalom to the Marquess in a low voice; and he considered the explorer with a fresh attention. The Marquess looked at Jasper Forbes with a sudden air of doubt.
"Well, I think it was a horrid thing to do,' said Barbara, firmly.
"So do I," said Miss Cantelune.
"We—er—cannot apply our Western standards to these—er—foreign and barbarous lands. The-er—White Man's burden," said the Marquess, with his statesmanlike air.
"I always look on Forbes as the Black Man's burden," said Absalom, unkindly.
The Earl of Tilcombe burst into his sudden, crowing, grating laugh. "By Jove! that's a rippin' name for dear old Jasper," he cried. "I must remember that—the Black Man's burden. That's what we'll call him."
Jasper Forbes growled.
"Hang it all!" broke In Lord Fleetham in a high, querulous note. "Why are we wastin' all the mornin' gassin' when we might be playin' auction? The tables are all ready in the drawin'-room. Let's go and begin."
In the days when it was fashionable no man so firmly acquired the habit of dropping his g's that when they again came into fashion he had never been able to recover them.
"Yes, come along, Marquess," said Lady Sarratt. "We're forgetting all about the serious business of life. We always do when Mr. Gomme is with us."
They were moving in a group towards the door, when the Marquess said.
"Where's my cigarette ease? I laid it on the table. It certainly was on the table."
Lord Fleetham turned on the Earl of Tilcombe, and said sharply, "The governor's cigarette case, Billy."
"What cigarette case? What are you talking about?" said the Earl of Tilcombe with an air of surprise.
"Oh, fork it out. Don't go wastin' any more time. We've wasted nearly the whole mornin'. Get on!" said Lord Fleetham, angrily.
The Earl of Tilcombe put his hand in his pocket and drew out the cigarette case. He looked at it with puzzled earnestness, and shook his head.
"Most extraordinary," he said, handing it to the Marquess.
No one showed any surprise; the weakness of the Earl of Tilcombe was well-known In the polite world, and no one attached any importance to it; its interest as a topic of conversation had been exhausted years before; to express surprise at it marked you as a very new arrival indeed in the polite world.
Only Absalom chuckled and muttered to Lady Sarratt, "Above suspicion, eh?"
They were going through the door, when Barbara, who had gone to the long windows and was looking out over the garden, said, "Oh, Mr. Forbes, there's something you can tell me."
Jasper Forbes made a couple of steps, rather eager stops, towards her, and said, "Yes; what is It?"
The Earl of Tilcombe paused at the door, and said, "Aren't you coming to struggle with the great Gomme, Miss Lessing? He'll make you play for all you're worth. He's a foeman worthy of your what-do-you-call-it."
"I know that. I have struggled with Mr. Gomme before," said Barbara, smiling.
"Come along, then," said the Earl of Tilcombe.
"Presently—I'll cut in later," said Barbara listlessly.
"Hang it all! What's the good of having two tables if people won't cut in?" snapped Lord Fleetham.
"Run away and play, Pinky. If you're quick you may cut into the first table," said Jasper Forbes, impatiently.
The Earl of Tilcombe went through the door. Lord Fleetham followed him, and banged it.
"Well?" said Jasper Forbes.
"Why does Ferdinand Ferrer wear such a large diamond pin in his tie?" said Barbara.
JASPER FORBES stared at her, aghast, with his mouth wide open. He had never in his life, been so taken aback.
"Y—y—you—you?" he stammered.
"Did you expect a man in a mask?" said Barbara a little scornfully. "More women—oh, lord!" said Jasper Forbes.
"Yes; more women. Does it frighten you?" said Barbara a little more scornfully.
"Yes; it does. It isn't a woman's game," he said.
"Isn't it?" said Barbara, turning round and looking at him. A faint shadow of weariness and disgust had fallen on her face. "If you're frightened you had better keep out of it. I think I can manage without you."
"Kitty Meredith never told me of this," said Jasper Forbes sullenly; and he ground his teeth.
"Probably she had her reasons. She generally does have her reasons—excellent reasons. Well, that's how it is. Are you going on with it, or are you clearing out?" said Barbara in a tone of indifference somewhat galling.
Jasper Forbes hesitated, gazing at her, reflecting.
He had quite forgotten Kitty Meredith. Barbara had been the cause of many men forgetting many women. Then he saw that to clear out of the enterprise would damage him hopelessly and for ever with her. In it, working with her, he would have a score of chances of being useful, indispensable, to her. Once more he swallowed down his repugnance to working with a woman, as he had swallowed down his repugnance to working with Kitty Meredith, and for precisely the same reason. Jasper Forbes had a susceptible heart.
"I'm in it," he said firmly.
"Good," said Barbara without any warm enthusiasm in her tone.
"I tell you what; our continual scrapping turns out to be rather useful. No one will suspect us of being friends," he said with no little satisfaction.
"Confederates," said Barbara coldly.
"It's the same thing." said Jasper Forbes.
"Hardly," said Barbara. "But this is very awkward—Mr Gomme's coming here. He will make it difficult—much more difficult. He may spoil everything."
"That red-headed idiot!" cried Jasper Forbes scornfully.
"He's not an idiot—not by any means," said Barbara with some heat. "And when he's playing at detective it seems to bring out all his cleverness. I know that two or three times he has given Kitty Meredith no end of trouble; he has been within an ace of catching her. And what is he doing here? Surely he can't have learnt anything." Her brow was knitted in an anxious frown.
"How could he have learnt anything? And why shouldn't he be here? He knows everybody and goes everywhere," said Jasper Forbes in a reassuring tone.
"But his coming was so sudden. If he had been expected we should have heard about it: we must have done," said Barbara, the anxious frown still puckering her brow.
"Not a bit of it. Probably Pinky invited him on the quiet—wanted to borrow money from him," said Jasper Forbes confidently.
"I don't like it at all," said Barbara, by no means assured.
"But it's nonsense! What could he know? The people in this game are not the kind who blab. We've got too much to gain not to hold our tongues," said Jasper Forbes, rather impatiently.
"I haven't much faith in that horrid little Greek—what's his name—Ferrer. He struck me as being such a little worm when I saw him," said Barbara.
"Oh, Ferrer's as safe as houses," said Jasper Forbes cheerfully. Barbara sighed: "Well, there's no help for it. We're in it; and we've got to go through with it. But it is annoying; Mr. Gomme is the last person in the world I want to know whilst I have anything to do with Kitty Meredith."
"And why? What does that red-headed ruffian matter to anyone?" said Jasper Forbes with more than a touch of jealousy in his tone.
"He has been a very good friend to my sister and myself."
"Has he?" said Jasper Forbes sharply.
"And a poor return he received for it. Goodness! How I've—helped Kitty Meredith trick him! Oh, I do wish I were well through this," said Barbara.
"If you're going into it in this spirit, you'll make a hash of it to a dead certainty," said Jasper Forbes uneasily.
"No; I shall make no hash of it," said Barbara firmly.
Jasper Forbes did not share her confidence; but he reflected that he could always stop the enterprise, or clear out of it, at any point he chose. He looked at her with wondering eyes. That Kitty Meredith should be engaged in collecting the Gillingham Rubies seemed to him natural enough; but that this delicate, well-bred girl, of such striking beauty and charm should be her confederate Indeed astonished him.
"Look here, what are you in this game at all for?" he said abruptly. "It's all very well for Kitty Meredith—she's of the type—an arrant little adventuress. But you?"
Barbara looked at him soberly, her grey eyes at their blackest. "I'm in it for money, of course. What else? Needs must when poverty drives," she said bitterly. "I have an invalid sister—a very delicate child with curvature of the spine. She must have doctors and a nurse and luxuries. Besides, I have never despaired of curing her. I will cure her. She is already better than she used to be. She has tried one or two cures—on the Continent—and they have done her good. I will not let her go back. She must have everything she needs; and she shall. After all, my father was robbed of his money—legally of course—robbed of the money which should have given her the life she must have, I'm getting it back—getting my own, or rather hers, back. For myself, I shouldn't care a rap—but for Sibyl, well-"
She spoke quickly, bitterly, rather as if she were once more presenting to herself a defence which she had presented to herself many times before, than as if she were troubling to defend herself to Jasper Forbes. She did not look at him; she seemed unaware of his presence.
"I see," said Jasper Forbes. "But hang it all! Surely there are other, safer ways of making money than a game like this."
"Not for me—not making as much money—enough money to make Sibyl safe in the event of anything happening to me. The thought that she might be left unprovided for, if, say, I had an accident, or a bad illness, is just a torture. You don't know what it is," said Barbara, fiercely.
"No, I don't. I've only little boy Forbes to provide for, thank goodness!" said the explorer.
"Well, I can't stand it; and that's all about it," said Barbara, with a sudden cold resolution. "I'd rather take any risk—to myself—than chance Sibyl's being thrown defenceless on the world—any risk. This is the last coup. By it I make enough to make Sibyl safe. At any cost I'm going to carry it through."
"And I'll be shot if I don't believe you will!" said Jasper Forbes.
BARBARA walked slowly across the room and pressed the button of an electric bell. Her face was flushed by the vehemence with which she had spoken; but when she turned from the bell it was again serene.
"By the way, Mr. Forbes, why are you in this—er—game?" she said with a faint, mocking smile. "You have plenty of money."
"One never has plenty of money—one can always do with more—a good deal more. But as a matter of fact, I'm in it chiefly for fun," said Jasper Forbes.
"Oh? I thought it might be for the beaux yeux of Kitty Meredith," said Barbara slowly with a spice of malice in her tone.
"Not a bit of it! Kitty Meredith isn't my style at all," protested the explorer with some warmth.
"Then I must have been misinformed," said Barbara in a tone quite lacking conviction. "She's a very pretty girl, Kitty Meredith."
"Not my style at all," said Jasper Forbes firmly. "I hate red hair."
The door opened; and Jenkins stood on the threshold.
"Will you tell my maid I want to speak to her, please," said Barbara.
"Yes, miss," said Jenkins; and he went.
"You have a queer idea of fun, Mr. Forbes," said Barbara, regarding the explorer with curious eyes.
"It isn't queer at all," said Jasper Forbes quickly. "Here I am, eating my heart out in this sappy old country, while a set of silly old jossers are trying to brace themselves to finance an expedition—to Biteiah. I must do something; and when Ferrer suggested scooping up the Gillingham rubies, why, I just jumped at it. It's very mild fun, of course—after collecting ivory. But it's better than nothing at all. It helps to keep one's hand in, don't you know."
"I see," said Barbara; and she looked at him thoughtfully, and with little admiration in her eyes. "Don't you sometimes feel a little uncomfortable about accepting the Marquess's hospitality and relieving him of his rubies?" she added.
"Now that is a funny, old-fashioned idea!" cried the explorer. "But, of course, you've never collected ivory. I don't feel the slightest bit uncomfortable. The old buffer will be just as well off without the rubies as with them. What use are they to him?"
Barbara's face suddenly brightened. "That's what I keep telling myself," she Bald quickly. "They're no use to him, or to anyone for that matter, shut up in a safe from year's end to years' end. They're just superfluities, while the money's a necessity—a necessity of life to Sybil."
"That's the way to look at it," said Jasper Forbes cheerfully.
The door opened; and a pretty, dark-eyed, dark-haired girl, very neatly dressed, came into the room. She glanced sharply at the explorer, and said with a strong, but pretty, French accent, "You wanted me, Mademoiselle?"
"Yes, Josephine. Mr. Forbes is the helper Miss Meredith has chosen to aid us in getting the rubies," said Barbara.
Jasper Forbes sprang from his chair and cried, "Another woman!"
"Yes," said Barbara quietly, smiling at his consternation.
"Oh, Lord! This is too much!" cried the explorer with a harried air.
"It's very modern—the solidarity of sex," said Barbara with another wicked smile; and her face showed extreme delight in the explorer's discomfiture.
"Go on; don't mind me," said Jasper Forbes. "Three women—whole business will be all over England before this evening."
"Josephine is discretion itself. I'd rather trust her with a secret than any man I know," said Barbara.
"Have it your own way," said Jasper Forbes: and he sat heavily down again in his chair with an air of resigned hopelessness.
"Mr. Absalom Gomme is here, Josephine," said Barbara.
"The big red one? But he is dangerous," said Josephine quickly, and an expression of lively uneasiness filled her face.
"Very—if he suspects anything, and we shall have to be trebly careful," said Barbara, gravely.
"But yes," said Josephine with equal gravity.
"I don't know how it is that this red-headed blighter impresses you women so. If he were the only person to consider it would be as easy as shelling peas," said Jasper Forbes, once more stirred by jealousy to impatience.
Barbara gave no heed to him. She said: "I've made my plan at last. I've hunted and hunted for a way of getting the keys safely; and at last I've found it."
"Good. Are you going to drug the Marquess? Kitty Meredith had some such idea in her head, and I've brought the drug," said Jasper Forbes, eagerly.
"Yes, I've heard all about that drug. It's exactly what we want," said Barbara.
"And how were you going to do it?" said the explorer, brightening and brightening at the prospect of action.
"I'm going to use his fad for having perfect coffee. I'm going to use the great Gillingham ceremony—the coffee-making after lunch," said Barbara.
"But everybody's about. It will be awfully difficult to get it into his cup without its being seen," said the explorer, frowning. "And then when he's swallowed it, how are you going to get him away from the others? It works awfully quickly—inside of ten minutes."
"I'm not going to get him away from the others. I'm going to got it into the coffee before it's poured out, while it's being made," said Barbara.
"B-but if you do that you—you'll drug the whole caboodle," said Jasper Forbes with an air of some perplexity.
"I mean to," said Barbara, and she laughed gently.
Jasper Forbes sprang from his chair as if he had made a very sudden discovery of a sharp pin in it.
"You're mad!" he cried. "Stark, staring mad!"
"No. I'm quite sane," said Barbara.
"It's preposterous! Nobody over heard of such a thing!" exclaimed the explorer.
"Thai's one of the beauties of it," said Barbara, who seemed to grow cooler as he grow more excited. "No one ever heard of drugging a whole house party. No one will ever dream that it would be attempted. No one will ever dream that it has been done. There's a beautiful, sweeping simplicity about it that makes it quite safe and effective. There's really much less risk in it than in drugging the Marquess only."
"I'll be hanged if I see it!" cried Jasper Forbes.
"Very likely that's why I'm conducting the operation, and not you. You must lack imagination," said Barbara sweetly. "But, at any rate, you can see that we keep quite clear of suspicion. You're drugged, too—at least, we go to sleep when the rest do."
"I suppose it's no use talking to you. You will have your own way," said the explorer in a hopeless tone, and he sat down in his chair again.
"Mademoiselle always has her own way. That's why she leads," said Josephine in a tone of reproof.
"Can you suggest a better plan? I'll certainly adopt it, if you can," said Barbara.
Jasper Forbes thought for a moment. No better plan, indeed no plan of any kind, stole into his mind. Drugging a Marquess in his ancestral halls was an exploit on a higher level than those to which he had been used.
"I can't think of a worse—if that's any comfort to you," he said grumpily.
"I wish I were only half as sure of the effect of this drug of yours as I am of the plan," said Barbara.
"The drug's all right—a fair knock-out of a hocussing drug. It sends you into a sound sleep, and whether you're awakened in ten minutes or ten hours you wake with your head as clear as a bell," said Jasper Forbes with emphasis.
"And no nasty taste in your mouth?" said Barbara.
"Not a taste," said Jasper Forbes.
"That's what you told Kitty Meredith," said Barbara. "Well, if the drug's all right, we're all right. All you have to do is to measure out enough of it to drug eight people."
"It's rank madness," said Jasper Forbes. "But if I must, I must. How are you going to get it into the coffee. It's no use trusting to the luck of the moment in these things."
"That's where you come in, Josephine," said Barbara. "You're on very good terms with Monsieur Leroux—"
"Who's Monsieur Leroux?" interrupted the explorer. "The Marquess's chef," said Barbara.
"Quite good, mademoiselle," said Josephine, smiling.
"Then you can persuade him to give you a lesson in making his wonderful coffee," said Barbara.
"Yes, mademoiselle. Monsieur Leroux's coffee making is a true ceremony—almost religious. It was he who persuaded Monsieur le Marquis to let him make it in the drawing-room, so it come fresh from his hand. But he will be flattered that I ask for a lesson—oh, but so flattered," said Josephine.
"Well, during the course of the lesson you ought to be able to slip the drug into the coffee," said Barbara.
"But yes, mademoiselle. Mademoiselle can rely on me. I shall be at his elbow," said Josephine confidently.
"When you hear us coming out of the dining-room slip away, go through the windows into the garden, and carry your handkerchief in your hand, if the drug is in the coffee. I'll come to the window, and if I see the handkerchief, I shall know that I can go on."
"Yes, mademoiselle," said Josephine, and her eyes sparkled.
"Well, that's settled; and I think it's fairly simple. The keys I'll change myself. Now, off you go to Monsieur Leroux and arrange the lesson," said Barbara.
Josephine went briskly to the door, paused, and said, "And the drug, mademoiselle?"
"Mr. Forbes will measure out the right dose, and I'll give it you before lunch."
"Yes, mademoiselle," said Josephine, and she went briskly out of the room.
"Josephine's a treasure," said Barbara, smiling.
"They all are—till they sell you out," said Jasper Forbes gloomily. "Where did you get hold of her—Kitty Meredith?"
"She got into trouble with a friend of mine in Paris about some missing jewellery—three years ago. I found that there was a man at the bottom of it—a scoundrel of the worst-and that poor Josephine had had a hard life of it always. So I begged her off, and took her into my own service. I got an excellent maid."
"Most women would have funked that. It's pretty clear that when you do a thing, you don't do it by halves," said Jasper Forbes in a tone of approval. He hesitated, and added. "After all, there is something in the infernal cheek of your plan of doping the whole shooting match."
"I'm glad you're beginning to see it. But all the same I wish it were well over. Mr. Gomme's coming has upset me," said Barbara with an anxious sigh.
"You don't look very much upset; and you certainly didn't give that girl her instructions as if you were upset. I'm beginning to think that you're a bit of a wonder," said Jasper Forbes slowly, gazing at her with admiring eyes.
Barbara met them with that mocking gleam still in her own. "Thank you," she said coldly.
"By Jove! What an ivory collector you'd make! I wish you were coming with me on this Biteiah expedition. You'd be a pal worth having. And I believe you'd stand the climate perfectly; you're just the build, and you have the look. I wonder if it could be worked," said Jasper Forbes, with a touch of excited enthusiasm in his tone.
Barbara laughed a clear, ringing laugh, from a care-free heart. The explorer had certainly found a way of making her forget her anxieties.
"I think I see myself in the middle of Africa!" she cried.
"You might be in a worse place." said Jasper Forbes seriously, for the fancy had gripped him. "You want money; well, there's heaps of money in the middle of Africa. Now you think about it. I know it sounds a bit odd, but there's something in it."
"There's a strong sense of humour in it," said Barbara.
"I'm not joking," said the explorer, still very serious.
The door opened, and Absalom Gomme came into the room.
Jasper Forbes scowled at him; resented the interruption; his essentially child-like mind had seriously fastened on the idea of Barbara as an ivory collector under his auspices.
"I though you were playing bridge," he growled, ungraciously.
"No, I cut out," said Absalom carelessly, but his eyes glanced keenly at Barbara's face.
"Pinky and Tilcombe cut together, and they are playing such a perfectly fool game couldn't bear to look on; so I cleared out."
The eyes of the explorer suddenly brightened, and he rose quickly. "By Jove! Pinky and Billy playing together. I must go and have a little bet." And he went quickly to the door.
"Yes; Pinky's always a soft thing till he comes to paying," said Absalom contemptuously.
"But I'm going to have a little bet with Billy," said the explorer, and he went briskly out of the room.
"A simple soul." said Absalom, smiling.
"As simple as a greedy child," said Barbara contemptuously. Absalom was pleased by the contempt in her tone, and he smiled at her sympathetically, with caressing eyes. "And how's Sibyl?" he said.
Barbara's face grow very bright, and her eyes shone. "She's better—distinctly bettor." she said quickly. "That Nauheim treatment did her a lot of good, and we're not letting her go back. When I leave here I'm going to Chipperfield to spend the rest of the summer with her. I mean to take advantage of this improvement, and go on struggling till I get her quite well. Think of it-quite well."
"What she wants is you. I believe that you're being with her is better for her than all the foreign doctors and all the foreign cures in the world. It's the one thing that keeps her cheerful," said Absalom with conviction.
"Yes, I know that," said Barbara slowly. "But what can I do? I have to go about. Where should we be without my bridge?"
"I suppose that is so," said Absalom, frowning. "But it's a great pity. How are the creditors?"
"Oh, they rave every now and then. But I don't mind very much. I'm getting hardened, and I take very little notice of them. In fact, I don't bother much about anything, except Sibyl's health. Besides, the creditors will never really do anything. They expect me to make a good marriage and be a regular customer ever after."
"And you ought to marry," said Absalom, with a faint sigh. "You have plenty of chances."
"Chances?" said Barbara, with a sudden, delightful laugh. "You don't know. Why, Pinky proposes every evening. He comes to proposing point after his third whisky and soda, pens me in a corner, and honours me with the offer of his trembling hand. I have to postpone a definite decision or he would weep in his father's drawing-room—so very embarrassing, a strong man's tears."
"Impossible sot!" growled Absalom.
Barbara laughed again. "Well, there's Tilcombe then. He's due to propose again at about three this afternoon," she said.
"That crack-brained kleptomaniac!" said Absalom, viciously.
"Billy has heaps of money, and an infectious laugh," said Barbara, and her eyes sparkled wickedly at Absalom's disgusted air.
"Yes, I always feel that I ought to be quarantined after hearing it," said Absalom. "And, anyway, it's not as infectious as his idiocy."
"And I've got a new suitor—or at least I'm going to have one. I know the symptoms. Mr. Forbes is working himself up to lay his leathery hand and heart at my feet."
"It's like the filibustering ruffian's cheek!" snapped Absalom.
"At least, he's a man—not like those two worms," said Barbara. "He's a brute boast; that's what he is," said Absalom with fervent conviction. "But there would certainly be one good point about him as a husband."
"That's rather news. What is it?" said Barbara, in some surprise.
"One of those days some black tribe he is plundering will recognise the true inwardness of our dear Jasper, and make a hearty but indigestible meal off him. Then his wife will be a widow," said Absalom.
"I never thought of that," said Barbara, clasping her hands. "And he has heaps of money."
"No, no; he'd never do. He's quite impossible," said Absalom hastily.
"There you go again. You are so unreasonable," said Barbara, plaintively. "You keep telling me to marry; and when I suggest anyone you won't hear of him."
"You can marry a better man than any of these," said Absalom slowly, gazing at her with thoughtful, considering eyes. "You ought to marry a peer, a decent peer—there are plenty of them. I've always thought so. The first time I saw you, I said to myself that girl was born to be a duchess, an historical duchess. There's no doubt whatever that that's your proper position."
"Thank you; but I'm not going to ornament any of the stately homes of England unless I love the owner—so there!" said Barbara firmly. "I'll beg, borrow, gamble, or steal for Sibyl; but sell myself for her I will not."
"Well, I suppose you're right," said Absalom slowly. "But one has got rather into the way of women selling themselves in our polite world. But this is a new compartment."
"What do you mean?"
"I always looked upon you as divided into compartments which have very little to do with one another," said Absalom with slow thoughtfulness. "There's the compartment occupied by Sibyl's devoted sister, and the compartment occupied by that accomplished woman, or rather, girl of the world, the bridge-playing Barbara Lessing. This compartment, occupied by the Barbara Lessing who will only marry the man she loves is a new one to me; though, of course, I might have seen that it went with your devotion to your sister."
"And there are other compartments of which you do not even dream," said Barbara sombrely.
"Well, as long as there's a place in one of them," said Absalom, with a charming smile which transfigured his face. Barbara's eyes fell before his smiling eyes; and a faint flush warmed her pale checks.
The door opened with some violence. Lord Fleetham bounced into the room. "Hang it all!" he cried. "Aren't you two coming to make up another table?"
"These enthusiasts!" said Absalom, laughing. "I thought you were playing."
"Oh, yes; I was," said Lord Fleetham in a tone of lively indignation. "Then the Black Man's Burden won a tenner off me and another off Billy, and cut me out, confound him!"
"Hard lines," said Absalom. "Shall we go and battle with them, Miss Lessing?"
"Come along," said Barbara, rising.
They took their way to the drawing-room, a spacious, lofty room, next to the Blue Room, and with the same long windows opening on to the garden, three of them, for it was thrice the size of the Blue Room, and settled down to bridge. Barbara and Absalom cut together against the Marquess and Lady Sarratt. Presently, when Lady Sarratt was playing the hand, and the Marquess was dummy and at liberty, he rose and sauntered out of the room. The moment the door closed behind him, he stepped briskly into the Blue Room and locked the door of it, went quickly to the long windows and looked round the garden. It was empty; not a gardener was in sight. He closed the windows and fastened them. Then he went to the corner of the room; pressed a spring. It clicked; there was a slight jarring of machinery, and the panel swung back inwards.
The Marquess stepped inside it, and closed it behind him. He took an electric lamp from a bracket on the wall, and switched it on. It showed a little room, about nine feet square, in the thickness of the old wall of the castle. On the further side of it was the safe cemented into the wail.
He took the keys—two duplicate keys—from his waistcoat pocket, unlocked the safe, opened the door, and turned the light into it. There were the cases which contained the jewels. He opened them one after another with eager fingers. The Gillingham Rubies lay safe on their velvet beds, the coronet, the pendant, the necklace, and the bracelets. He heaved a deep sigh of relief, for he had been growing more and more anxious ever since Absalom's warning.
He put the cases back in their places, and locked the safe. He put his ear to the panel door for a moment before opening it. Then he opened it and stepped out quickly, glancing anxiously at the windows. He shut the door quickly, and went and looked out into the gardens. There was no one in them.
He unfastened the windows, and went back to the drawing room. He had been so quick that Lady Sarratt was still playing the last tricks of the hand. He sat down and took up the game with a far easier mind.
They played till half-past one; then the first lunch bell stopped the game at the end of the rubbers. Absalom's table had finished first, and he rose from it very well satisfied. Barbara had been his partner all the time, and they had won every rubber.
He strolled out into the garden, for he wished to learn the topography of the place, especially of the approaches to the Blue Room which held the rubies. He was somewhat annoyed to find that the garden held plenty of covert. A cedar shrubbery ran to within twenty feet of the windows of the Blue Room.
He did not think that there was any need for immediate anxiety. Kitty Meredith would surely never make an attempt on the rubies on a moonlit night, and the moon was drawing to the full.
He came back into the house, and Jenkins conducted him to his bedroom. He was pleased to find that the Marquess had had the intelligence to have given him a room from which he could reach the Blue Room inside of a minute.
JASPER FORBES had been quite differently engaged. He had locked his bedroom door, unlocked one of his portmanteaux, and taken from it a small locked case. He opened it and took from it a stoppered bottle full of white powder, innocently labelled "Digestive Salts," and three other much smaller, wide-mouthed bottles, with corks, empty, and a set of chemist's scales and weights. Somewhat clumsily and slowly he weighed out the right amount of the drug from the big bottle, and put it into one of the little bottles, from the wide mouth of which it would pour very easily and quickly. He slipped it into his pocket, put away the other bottles and the scales, and came out of his rooms whistling a lively air from a musical comedy.
It was the signal; and as he walked out down the corridor Josephine stepped out of Barbara's room. He glanced back down the passage; saw that it was empty, slipped the bottle into her hand, and went on down the corridor, and down the stairs, whistling even more cheerfully.
Josephine stepped back into the bedroom, shut the door, and held up the bottle for Barbara to see, smiling. Barbara smiled too, and said, "Really, it will be great fun, if you pull it off. But all the same-" she stopped short with a sigh.
"I shall pooll it off, mademoiselle." said Josephine, with mischievous glee. "And it will be varee funny—if that imbecile Adolphe should ever learn it."
"Poor Monsieur Leroux. I'm afraid that you're a man-hater, Josephine," said Barbara.
"I have reason," said Josephine, frowning.
ABSALOM was ready for lunch, and about to go downstairs, when there came a knock at his door; and in came Lord Fleetham. He wore a businesslike air; and Absalom knew what it portended. He know all the different airs which Lord Fleetham employed when about the serious enterprise of borrowing money.
"Halloa, my blithe and bonny one! What do you want?" he said.
"Can you lend me fifty pounds, old chap?" said Lord Fleetham with the impressive air of a man who was going to buy a railroad on the spot with it.
"Subscription list's closed," said Absalom, with swift directness.
"Oh, come; don't be mean. What's fifty pounds to you?" said Lord Fleetham.
"Well, since you ask me, I should say that it was more like fifty pounds than anything else to me," said Absalom thoughtfully. "It's neither here nor there," said Lord Fleetham.
"I prefer It here," said Absalom.
"Well, lend me a tenner," said Lord Fleetham, less buoyantly.
"I've lent you so many tenners, my blithe and bonny one," said Absalom.
Lord Fleetham appeared nettled. "Hang it all!" ho cried. "An invitation to Gillingham is worth a measly tenner! Why, I know a heap of people who would plank down a hundred for one—only the governor can't stick 'em."
"Oh, if you appeal to my nobility of heart," said Absalom, taking out his note-case. He drew a ten-pound note from it, and handed it to Lord Fleetham.
"Thanks," said Lord Fleetham, putting it into his pocket. "But you might as well make it fifty. I shall have lots of money next week. I've been put on to a good thing a ripping good thing—by a girl."
"The deuce you have!" cried Absalom, startled.
"What is it?"
"No, no; that's telling," said Lord Fleetham with a cunning air, and he went out of the door:
"Hang it all, Pinky! You're all above suspicion!" cried Absalom.
SAVE for the melancholy of Lord Fleetham, who had not only failed to borrow more than ten pounds from Absalom, but had also lost every rubber he had played—or, rather, to be exact, had thrown away every rubber he had played by his execrable play, lunch was very cheerful.
Absalom was observing his fellow-guests, by no means patiently, all the while; but he saw not the slightest sign of any shadow, any oppression, resting on the spirit of any one of them, except on that of Lord Fleetham. To that shadow he gave no heed, being very sure that if that poor-spirited young nobleman had made up his mind to steal his ancestral jewels, the enterprise would not give him a moment's discomfort. He ascribed it to its true cause—ill-luck at bridge. He was not surprised to perceive no shadow of anxiety on the faces of any of the others, though he was sure that one of them must be in league with the ingenious and redoubtable Kitty Meredith, and he had made up his mind that Jasper Forbes was by far the most likely to be her confederate. It was most improbable that that hardened and leathery filibuster would allow any unlawful scheme to spoil either his appetite or his spirits.
Absalom sat between Lady Sarratt and Barbara, and they had the best of the conversation. At least, it was the liveliest part of it. He was more lately from London than they, and could give them the latest news of their friends, and their friends always provided them with amusing talk. Lady Sarratt was uncommonly shrewd, and Barbara always saw the amusing side of any affair. Yet both of them contrived to enjoy their friends without growing ill-natured about them; with regard to their enemies it was different. On that matter both of them could be crushing; and they were.
The lunch itself afforded them no little entertainment. They chaffed Absalom for his vegetarianism, and he harangued them with severity on the subject of their meat-eating. He perceived that the Marquess of Gillingham enjoyed the services of an admirable chef. At the end of lunch the two of them teased him into giving the whole table a lecture—a short, pithy lecture on the advantages of vegetarianism.
In the middle of it, Jenkins, who had been one of the footmen waiting on them, left the room with the stately air which would sit on him with such an adhesive propriety when, in later life, he attained the rank of butler, and betook himself to the drawing room, where he set about brushing the card-tables for the afternoon's play.
He had just finished them when Josephine, carrying a basket of freshly-cut flowers, came in through the long windows from the garden. Jenkins's broad face lighted up at the sight of her, and then he frowned.
"You've bin hout in the conservatories," he said, suspiciously.
"But it is evident," said Josephine, with a demure air, and she held up the basket of flowers.
"Gassing with Wilson," said Jenkins, even more suspiciously.
"But, of course. Monsieur Wilson cut them for me. He always cuts them for me," said Josephine, with an innocent air.
"He's always cutting flowers for you," said Jenkins. "He must spend the best part of his time at it."
"Mademoiselle Lessing is so fond of flowers—she adores them—she has the simple heart," said Josephine, raising the basket to her nostrils.
"Simple heart. You should see her play auction," said Jenkins, with some scorn.
"She has the simple heart—like a child," said Josephine firmly. "She has a brain, too—much intelligence—that does not prevent the simple heart."
"Any excuse to got out into those conservatories and gas with Wilson," said Jenkins, harking back to his original grievance. "And you came in this way to get a word with Messoo Leeroo. I know you did."
Josephine crossed the room to a Venetian mirror which hung low on the wall, and patted her hair, a little ruffled by the summer breeze, till she had smoothed it to her liking. She was well aware that she made a very pretty picture with her arms raised, and her air was of the most provoking.
"Monsieur Leroux gives me a lesson. He shows me how to make his superb coffee," she said with a faint challenge in her voice.
"He could give you a lesson in the kitchen," said Jenkins with a rising voice.
"But this is only the first lesson. He gives me many lessons. He is varee kind, Monsieur Leroux," said Josephine, surveying herself in the mirror with the appreciation of a connoisseur.
"That's it! Any excuse to be with Leeroo!" cried Jenkins hotly. "You're always messing about with him!"
"But no," said Josephine, raising her eyebrows with an air of patient expostulation, "I was in the garden with you all the evening."
"Only because Leeroo was trying the Marquess's new car," said Jenkins, scowling terribly.
"But you are tiresome with your jealousy," said Josephine carelessly.
"Me jealous! Of a little rat like 'im!" cried Jenkins hotly.
"Monsieur Leroux is full of spirit—oh, but very intelligent," said Josephine with enthusiasm.
"Ho! That's the attraction is it?" said Jenkins with lofty scorn.
"He has a great soul," said Josephine with trying conviction.
"He needs to 'ave something to make up for those spindle-shanks of 'is," said Jenkins scornfully.
"Speendle-shanks? What is that—speendle-shanks?" said Josephine, ever ready, even in emotional moments, to improve her knowledge of the English tongue.
"His legs. I could make a better pair of legs out of a couple of walking-sticks," said Jenkins with the scorn of scorns; and he gazed down at his own magnificent calves. "I can't conceive what a fine girl like you can see in a little rat of a fellow like 'im."
"We French women, we admire intelligence," said Josephine.
"That's it! I said as 'ow you was encouraging him!" cried Jenkins furiously.
"But we adore strength," said Josephine, smiling a dazzling smile at him.
Jenkins grunted; and the cloud lifted a little from his brow.
"And how you are imposing, my big Thomas!" said Josephine with every appearance of impressed admiration.
"Why, bless you! I could crumple the little beggar up with one hand," said Jenkins in growing appeasement; and he sidled towards her, and with a sudden grab caught her to him, and imprinted a smacking kiss on her cheek.
"Oh, but how you are strong, my big Thomas," said Josephine with enthusiasm.
"I ought to be. I've done them Sandow exercises reg'lar for years and years," said Jenkins with the proud air of a Hercules.
There came the sound of footsteps in the hall, and they sprang apart.
A small man, with a great air, entered the drawing-room. His eyes were very black, and at the sight of Jenkins with they flashed like blazing boot-buttons. His moustache and imperial were very black, and they gave his face a terrible fierceness. He wore the white apron and cap of the chef, and above the top of the apron spread the widely-flowing bow of the artist. He was followed by an assistant-chef, also in a white apron and cap bearing freshly-ground coffee in a silver bowl.
"Ah, you are here, mademoiselle, ready for your lesson," said M. Leroux in a deep, fierce voice, scowling at Jenkins.
"But I am devoured by impatience, Monsieur," said Josephine, with her sweetest smile, M. Leroux went with the nervous stride of a man engaged in a great enterprise to the table before the fireplace, on which were set a spirit-lamp, a copper saucepan, a jug of water, coffee cups, and half-a-dozen bottles of liqueurs of different and attractive colours.
He cast a searching glance over the table, and drew himself up with his great air.
"All is ready. Stand here, mademoiselle—at my right hand," he said in the crisp tones of a great commander.
"All this fuss about a cup of coffee," sneered Jenkins. "I wouldn't give tuppence for the best cup of coffee over made. Give me a glass of good beer," And he swelled with insular pride.
M. Leroux regarded him with a sour smile; then he said in deep, arresting tones; "A good cup of coffee is a great exploit, my good Jenkins. It is a victory. Look you, a general plans a movement against the enemy; he foresees everything, arranges everything, provides against everything—with exactness. This coffee-making in my campaign. Behold the coffee fresh from the mill—just ground—with all Its fragrance."
With a sweeping gesture he took the bowl from his subordinate; it might have been a general taking his sword. "I have hurried here with it. I measure it out so—a big spoonful and a little spoonful for each person. Then the water—eight people—eight cups of water—so."
Swiftly he filled a cup with water from the jug and poured it on to the coffee in the saucepan. Impressed in spite of his prejudices, Jenkins drew near the table and watched the process with his mouth slightly open.
"Not a morsel too much coffee, not a drop too much water," Leroux went on. "Now, my army is in position; the movement is about to begin. Have they finished their loonch, my good Jenkins?"
"They'd just finished their fruit as I came away; and that there Gomme was gassing about vegetarianism. They'll come as soon as they can stop 'im," said Jenkins.
"Good. The movement begins," said M. Leroux. He turned to his assistant and added. "You can go!"
The assistant chef left the room. M. Leroux lighted the spirit lamp with another broad gesture. It was like a general mounting his charger. "And now I stir it—slowly—smoothly," said M. Leroux. "Observe, mademoiselle, slowly—smoothly. It is very important."
"I am watching with all my eyes," said Josephine, and her eyes were dancing.
M. Leroux suddenly uttered a yell which made them both jump, and clapped his left hand to his brow. "Heaven! What have I done?" he cried. "It Is ruined!"
"What is It? What has happened?" cried the startled Josephine.
"The cold water! I have forgotten the cold water to settle the grounds! It is spoilt! My reputation!" cried M. Leroux in accents of the wildest horror.
"Mon Dieu! How terrible!" cried Josephine.
"For the love of heaven, come to my rescue, Meestare Jenkins! Get me a cup of cold water!" cried M. Leroux.
"Right you are, Mossoo!" cried Jenkins.
"Roosh! Fly!" cried M. Leroux.
"Right!" said Jenkins; and he bounded heavily out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
"Imbecile! I have plenty of cold water," said M. Leroux, with a cold smile. Then turning to Josephine with a terrible air, he said, "Why do I always find that gross islander by your side?"
"He was here when I came," said Josephine.
"He is always here when I come," snarled M. Leroux. "My suspicions are awakened. He had better beware. Once jealous—ma foi! And you, ma petite; do not play with fire!"
"Your suspicions are unjust, detestable, Adolphe," said Josephine in a tone of righteous indignation.
"They are also dangerous,", said M. Leroux with cold ferocity.
"But a gross islander like that! No spirit! No fire! No passion! How could he touch my heart?" cried Josephine.
The face of M. Leroux relaxed a little from his frowning grimness.
"It is true." he said more gently. "After me he could not move you. But be careful, ma petite. My passions are tinder. A spark enflames them."
It was very creditable to his genius that for all the violence of his emotions the pace of his right hand, stirring the coffee, had not varied. All the while he had stirred it with the same smooth even motion. As he spoke he shifted the moving spoon from his right hand to his left, put his right arm round Josephine, drew her to him, and kissed her vigorously.
"Could a sluggish islander kiss like that?"
"Never!" said the perfidious maid with profound conviction. "His kisses would be ice."
"Do not try them," said M. Leroux grimly.
"But how you are imposing, my Adolphe! I adore passion; it thrills me," she said, gazing at him with admiring eyes. M. Leroux kissed her again, with even greater vigour; and she deftly gave his flowing bow a little tug which spoiled its negligent symmetry. Then she threw up her hands and cried, "Adolphe! Your cravat! It is all disarranged. And the Marquess. And his guests. They are coming! They must not see you so! Arrange it! I will stir the coffee."
With a cry of dismay M. Leroux thrust the spoon into her hand, and crying. "Softly! Smoothly! For the love of heaven. Softly! Smoothly!" he rushed to the mirror and began to struggle with his crooked bow. Josephine kept her eyes on him, and stirring the coffee with her right hand she brought her left with the little bottle in it over the steaming saucepan, and shook the powder out of it Into the coffee.
"Sacré cochon d'une cravate! Will it never come straight?" cried M. Leroux furiously from the mirror.
Josephine dropped the bottle into the pocket of her pretty lace apron, and said, "Come here. Let me try."
M. Leroux dashed to her, caught the spoon from her, took up the stirring, and presented his how to her deft hands. In ten seconds she had tied it straight and patted it into a neatness it rarely enjoyed.
"There; that is better," she said.
"Ah, you understand; you appreciate the dignity of the artist; you know what is due to it," said M. Leroux in a tone of deep emotion.
There came the sound of voices and laughter.
"They come! Fly!" said M. Leroux.
Josephine ran to the window, paused to blow a kiss to him and cry "Au revoir, mon ange!", and vanished.
M. Leroux wont on stirring the coffee with the satisfied, triumphant smile of the breaker of hearts.
Josephine went a few steps, then she laughed softly and joyously, then she muttered "Imbeciles."
Then she took out her handkerchief.
JENKINS rushed into the room, bearing a cup of cold water in his hand. "You arrive to the moment; a thousand thanks," said the deceitful Leroux, taking it from him.
"All right, moosoo. You'd do as much for me," said Jenkins, panting heavily. The door opened, and Barbara entered, the Earl of Tilcombe on her heels.
"Bonjour, Monsieur Leroux," she said, smiling at him.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle," said M. Leroux; and he smiled and bowed with infinite grace. Barbara crossed the room to the window, bent forward, and looked out. At the entrance of the path into the shrubbery she saw Josephine, and Josephine had her handkerchief in her hand. Barbara drew back, and a smile of satisfaction wreathed her lips.
"I say, Miss Lessing?" said the Earl of Tilcombe, who had followed her. "Are you going to give me a definite answer?"
He was rather flushed, but whether with lunch or passion it was impossible to say.
"But I've given you several definite answers—at least three this week," said Barbara.
"But you've always said 'no.' I don't call 'no' a definite answer," said the ingenuous nobleman, frowning like a spoilt child who has been denied a toy.
"Well, if 'yes' is the only definite answer you'll take, I'm afraid you'll have to wait a very long time for it," said Barbara firmly.
"I don't mind waiting," said Lord Tilcombe with a smoother brow. "I don't believe in rushing people. I want you to think it over—carefully, don't you know."
"You're not rushing me a bit. But all the thinking it over in the world won't make any difference," said Barbara, with uncompromising firmness.
"You can't tell till you've tried; you can't, really," said the Earl of Tilcombe confidently. "It will make all the difference. You see if it doesn't. Now I'm going to give you a week—a solid week—and I'm not going to bother you once till It's up."
"Oh, as long as you don't bother me—anything for peace," said Barbara, with some impatience.
Miss Cantelune came through the doorway, followed by Jasper Forbes, the Marquess, and Lord Fleetham.
"Hang it all!" cried the last. "Why can't we have coffee in the dining-room in comfort? What's the good of walking half a mile to it? Leroux could make it there just as well."
"Coffee has always been served in the drawing-room at Gillingham," said the Marquess stiffly.
The coffee had boiled up, and the room was full of its delicious fragrance. With a masterly hand M. Leroux dashed in the cold water, and then began to pour it out. Absalom came in with Lady Sarratt as Jenkins began to hand round the coffee with the liqueurs.
"I say that we ought to have coffee in the dining-room. Having it here wastes time getting to our bridge," Lord Fleetham persisted.
"Pinky must have his grumble. It's his digestive," said Absalom kindly.
Jenkins presented the tray to Lady Sarratt, and when she had taken her cup and her liqueur he presented it to Absalom.
"No, thank you. I never take coffee," said Absalom. Barbara and Jasper glanced at one another. He scowled at Absalom and moved quietly to her side. They went to the window.
"Oh, I say, Gomme. Have you taken a coffee pledge, too?" said the Earl of Tilcombe in a tone of disgust.
"I never touch it. It increases the blood pressure," said Absalom firmly.
"But you must drink Monsieur Leroux's coffee. It's a dream. The most wonderful coffee in the world," said Lady Sarratt in a tone of strong protest.
"I'm sure it is. Judging from his vegetables, I gather that Monsieur Leroux is a genius," said Absalom with profound conviction.
"I think that you're missing a pleasure, Mr. Gomme," said the Marquess.
"But I'm saving my arteries," said Absalom
The Marquess drank his coffee and said, "Excellent Monsieur Leroux; excellent."
M. Leroux bowed low and said with a great air. "The appreciation of Monsieur the Marquess ever stimulates me to fresh efforts. Appreciation is the spur to the artist."
"And you, always—er—er make a fresh advance, Monsieur Leroux," said the Marquess.
M. Leroux bowed low. "If Monsieur Leroux also made the tea, Gillingham would be the most perfect house in England," said Barbara, smiling at him.
"Mademoiselle, I have never given a thought to the matter. I must consider it—whether tea is worthy of me." said M. Leroux; and with an admirable bow he left the room, proud with the consciousness of success well earned.
Barbara went through the window; and Jasper Forbes followed her.
"This is tiresome; I forgot that Mr. Gomme never took coffee," said Barbara; and she poured the contents of her cup on to the thirsty turf.
"The fellow seems to be trying to give all the trouble he can," said Jasper Forbes angrily. "I can't see what the Marquess wants to have these bothersome Americans in his house at all for. They never can be content to go quietly along in the beaten track in comfort. They must always be trying some new dodge to improve things which don't want improving."
And in his turn he emptied his cup on to the thirsty turf.
"Well, I'll leave him to you. You'll be able to find some way of getting him out of the room," said Barbara.
"I'll get him out of the room, If I have to get him out by the scruff of the neck," said Jasper Forbes viciously.
"I shouldn't do it that way if I were you; it would look too marked," said Barbara, laughing gently; and she went back to the drawing-room.
Her quick eye grasped the fact that most of the coffee cups were already empty. So far the affair had gone as smoothly as could be wished.
"You won't drink coffee, Mr. Gomme; yet you are smoking a great big cigar. I never saw anything more inconsistent," said Lady Sarratt in tones of reproach.
"Not at all," said Absalom suavely. "I conduct my life on strictly scientific principles. A man must have his redeeming vices. His fellow-creatures—his European fellow-creatures, that is—demand it of him. So I smoke."
"And play bridge," said Miss Cantelune.
"Yes; those are the tributes my virtue pays to your vices," said Absalom calmly. "My determination to protect English Society compels me to mix with you. But you wouldn't have me without these concessions. So, strongly against my better judgment, I smoke and play bridge."
He drew himself up with an heroic air.
"How noble of you!" jeered Lady Sarratt.
"It is. It is," said Absalom.
"We are so much obliged," said Miss Cantelune ironically.
"Don't mention it," said Absalom.
"But surely that's a very large cigar to make a martyr of yourself with," said Barbara. "You could have done it quite as well with a small one, or with a cigarette."
"Oh, there's no martyrdom about It. I'm very fond of a good cigar; and, of course, the more of a good cigar there is to be fond of the fonder of it I am," said Absalom, smiling round upon them.
"You're just a big humbug," said Lady Sarratt with conviction.
"I am no Anglo-Saxon," said Absalom in an explanatory tone; and his eyes twinkled like bright blue stars.
Lord Fleetham had finished his coffee and his liqueur. "Hang it all! are we never going to start bridge?" he cried. "We're gassin' away here all the afternoon. And as it was we were half an hour longer over lunch than usual. Gomme kept us waiting over every course. I never saw such a slow eater."
"I Fletcherise," said Absalom, proudly.
"Goodness! He's got a new trick," said the Earl of Tilcombe. "What's Fletcherising?"
"I chew every mouthful of food till I have extracted every vestige of taste from it," said Absalom.
"But that isn't a meal. It's an occupation," said Lady Sarratt.
"And what do you do it for, Mr. Gomme?" said the Marquess.
"It prolongs life," said Absalom.
"What a life!" cried the Earl of Tilcombe; and he burst into his crowing, grating laugh.
"It's the only kind of life worth living—life with all your functions working at their host," said Absalom with eloquent enthusiasm.
The door opened, and Jenkins entered, bearing a glass of hot water on a gold salver. He carried it across the room to Absalom, and said, "Your hot water, sir."
Absalom took the glass and raised it to his lips. "Good heavens! He's going to drink it!" cried Lord Tilcombe, in accents of the liveliest consternation.
"Wait, man! Walt! Wait till I get you some brandy," cried Lord Fleetham, dashing to the table.
"No, thank you," said Absalom, taking a sip of the water.
"Chartreuse! Benedictine! Grand Marnier!" cried Lord Fleetham.
"No, thank you," said Absalom.
They watched him drink it, with fascinated eyes. "I never saw anything so disgusting," said Jasper Forbes with deep conviction.
"It's shocking!" said the Earl of Tilcombe, no less deeply moved.
"It's a very sleepy afternoon," said Barbara, smothering a yawn, for she thought that a little suggestion might help the action of the drug.
"Caffeine, the principle of coffee, is some little time affecting the nerves," said Absalom, in the tone of a science lecturer. "But the coffee you have just drunk will soon wake you all up."
He was wrong.
"Oh, you promised to show us the Gillingham rubies, Lord Gillingham. Won't you show them to us now?" said Miss Cantelune.
Barbara and Jasper Forbes glanced at one another with startled eyes. The same thought had flashed in the mind of both; if the Marquess brought out the rubies just as everyone went to sleep, the rubies would be there before their eyes absolutely secure, and at the same time all their trouble to make the opportunity of changing the keys would be wasted.
Lord Fleetham came to the rescue. "Hang it all!" he cried shrilly. "We shan't get one single rubber this afternoon. First Gomme and now the rubies!"
The Marquess looked round the room with a rather drowsy air. "Yes—er—later, I think—I—er—don't feel quite equal to the exertion of getting them out so soon after lunch. They're locked away very carefully, you know."
"Besides, we ought to see them by the electric light. They'll be much finer than in the daylight," said Barbara quickly.
"Of course we ought," said Miss Cantelune. "This evening, then, Lord Gillingham."
"Yes, this evening," said the Marquess.
THE situation was saved; Barbara and Jasper Forbes breathed again.
"Come on, let's get to auction," said Lord Fleetham with a sudden, welcome note of cheerfulness. He went to the table and began to strip their coverings off the new packs of cards.
Barbara yawned, "I feel more like sleep than bridge," she said; and she sat down in an easy chair.
"It is a sleepy afternoon," said Jasper Forbes, and he yawned terrifically.
The Marquess yawned; then Lady Sarratt yawned. "I think I shall go and take a siesta," she said. "What do you say, Cissie?"
Miss Cantelune yawned: "Yes, I think I: should like a little sleep," she said. "We have been so awfully late the last three nights; and I don't know how it is, but one never can sleep on properly in the mornings in the country."
"It's those beastly birds," said the Earl of Tilcombe.
"There now you see!" said Absalom in a tone of triumph. "You will drug yourselves with meat and alcohol; and you can't keep your eyes open. Now, I was never more wakeful in my life."
"Ah, but we have our complexions to think. You lucky men have no complexions," said Lady Sarratt.
"If you didn't eat moat, your complexions wouldn't need so much sleep. I have a beautiful complexion," said Absalom.
"Don't throw it in our faces. I've always envied it," said Lady Sarratt, laughing.
"Pink—much too pink," said the Earl of Tilcombe, contemptuously.
"Come along, Cissie," said Lady Sarratt; and they went to the door.
Lord Fleetham awoke to the meaning of their action.
"Now, there's a thing to go and do!" he cried, in the wildest exasperation. "There'll only be one table!"
"Then there'll be only one table for you to revoke at, Pinky," said Lady Sarratt unkindly, and, smothering a yawn, she went out of the door, followed by Miss Cantelune.
"I am sleepy," said Jasper Forbes, and again he yawned terrifically.
"By Jove! so am I, now you come to speak of it," said Lord Fleetham, yawning.
"All your unfortunate brains are congested with meal and alcohol," said Absalom, with the contempt of the superior man.
"Come on, you follows! Come on! Hanged if I ever knew such a set of gassing dawdlers," said Lord Fleetham. "Come along, Miss Lessing."
"Leave me out of this rubber," said Barbara, drowsily. "I'm too sleepy to play. I am, really."
The door opened; and Jenkins entered with a somewhat stern air. He crossed the room to the Earl of Tilcombe and said, "Two spoons and a fork, please, your Lordship."
"Eh? What? Go away! Don't you see I'm going to play bridge? Don't bother!" said the Earl of Tilcombe indignantly.
"Hang it all! Shell out! Don't waste any more time!" cried Lord Fleetham in a tone of fury.
"The two spoons are in the left 'and pocket of your Lordship's jacket, and the fork is in the right 'and pocket of your Lordship's trousers," said Jenkins with cold firmness. Lord Tilcombe put his left hand into the pocket of his jacket, and his right hand into the pocket of his trousers, and drew out two spoons and a fork. He looked at them earnestly, with the air of a man who has never before in his life seen a spoon or a fork, much less those particular spoons and forks.
"Most extraordinary," he said, shaking his head, and he handed them to Jenkins. Then he yawned.
Jenkins, still stem, went out of the room. The five men went to the nearest bridge table and cut. The Marquess cut out. He yawned and sat down rather heavily in an easy chair near the table, from which he could watch the play of the hands. He yawned again, and then closed his eyes. The other four cut for partners, and Absalom said, "You and I together, my blithe and bonny Pinky. Mind you don't revoke. Your deal."
Lord Fleetham sat down with a prodigious yawn. The cards were shuffled and cut, and he began to deal. The Earl of Tilcombe put both elbows on the table and leant on them. The Marquess stretched out his legs.
"Now, do try not to revoke so early in the afternoon, my blithe and bonny Pinky," said Absalom in a fatherly tone.
"Hang it all! I've misdealt!" cried the unfortunate nobleman. "I do wish you wouldn't speak to me when I'm dealin'!'
"Never mind; try again," said Absalom, kindly. "I'm sorry I overrated your mental capacity. I'm always doing it."
There came a gentle snore from the Marquess, and the Earl of Tilcombe's head began to nod as if it were loose indeed on his shoulders. Lord Fleetham took up the cards and began to deal again slowly and jerkily. In the middle of the deal Absalom said, "My blithe and bonny Pinky, you've misdealt again."
"Have I?" said Lord Fleetham, and he gazed at the cards with much of the air of an idiot.
"Oh, get on—get on!" cried Jasper Forbes impatiently, with another gigantic yawn. The Earl of Tilcombe nodded, suddenly jerked right forward, and nearly smote the table with his nose.
Absalom rose and said: "Look here, this is no good. It's no use playing with people us sleepy us this. It wouldn't be auction—it would be robbery."
"I believe they're drunk," said Forbes.
"You're more than a bit sleepy yourself," said Absalom.
"Yes, I am." said Jasper Forbes, with another yawn. "The champagne hadn't been long enough on the ice. Warm champagne always makes me sleepy. Let's get out into the fresh air and give ourselves a chance."
"Hang it all!" said Lord Fleetham drowsily, "You chaps aren't goin' to break up the rubber."
"No, we're not." said Absalom. "There's no rubber to break up, my blithe and bonny one."
"Let them have a little sleep, and they'll be all right in half an hour," said Jasper Forbes as he went through the long windows.
"And they'll all be in vile tempers," said Absalom, following him. "Meat and drink are the curse of the country."
"I'm going to lie down on that sofa," said the Earl of Tilcombe, and he rose, blinking hard, and made for the sore against the left-hand wall with the air of a desperately determined man.
"So'm I," said Lord Fleetham with a yawn which nearly split his narrow face; and he rose and staggered after him. The Earl or Tilcombe reached the sofa first and dropped at full length on it.
"Hang it all! You don't want all the bally sofa!" said Lord Fleetham. "Make room."
There came the beginning of a snore from the Earl of Tilcombe. Lord Fleetham thumped his bosom friend, but the blows lacked earnestness. His friend only snored.
"All right; have your own way," said Lord Fleetham, and be lay down heavily beside his sleeping guest.
The Marquess snored; the Earl of Tilcombe snored; Lord Fleetham snored.
Barbara raised her head and looked round the room.
"Pigs," she said with conviction. She rose and went quickly to the window. Six feet from it she stopped and looked out into the garden. On the further side of the terrace she saw Absalom and Jasper Forbes; they were talking to Wilson, the head gardener. She came quickly back to the Marquess, and drew from her pocket two keys. Then, bending over him, with very gentle, deft fingers, she drew from the top left-hand pocket of his waistcoat the keys of the safe, slipped her own two keys into the pocket, and came swiftly back to her chair. She dropped into it, and closed her eyes.
THE peace of the sunlit room was only troubled by the snoring of the three noblemen. The snore of the Earl of Tilcombe was peculiarly acute. It matched his laugh.
Jasper Forbes entered softly, and paused, looking round. Barbara's quick ear caught his quiet step; and she too uttered a gentle snore. An expression of dismay filled the explorer's face, as the thought struck him that the heat of the afternoon had betrayed her, and she had fallen asleep with her task undone.
He crossed the room noiselessly, and grasping her shoulder shook her gently.
"What is it? What's the matter?" muttered Barbara sleepily.
"The keys! Now's your time! Quick!" hissed the explorer.
"What keys?" said Barbara, sleepily.
"Oh Lord, the keys of the safe!" hissed Jasper Forbes, and he shook her again.
"Oh, I've got them," said Barbara in a more wakeful tone.
"By Jove! You didn't lose any time. You are a wonder; there's no doubt about it!" said Jasper Forbes, in a tone of the warmest admiration.
"Where's Mr. Gomme?" said Barbara uneasily.
"Giving the gardener a temperance lecture."
"You oughtn't to have left him," said Barbara with the same uneasiness.
"Oh, he's all right," said Jasper Forbes confidently. "I got him away nicely, didn't I?"
"You did?" said Barbara, in a tone of approval. "And now, how are you going to get away yourself? What excuse are you going to make? It will have to be a good one."
"That's all right, too," said the explorer in a tone of satisfaction. "My man sends me a wire from town every afternoon, saying, 'Come back at once.' I'm expecting to-day's wire every minute."
"Good!" said Barbara. "Then in case I get the rubies to-night you'll be at a little gate of the park—the gate above the weir I showed you yesterday, at one o'clock, and wait till two. If I don't come to-night you'll be there to-morrow night, and the night after at the same time."
"Right you are!" said Jasper Forbes. "And you don't go bucketing about in your car like a madman, and have a smash, and leave me stranded with the rubies?" said Barbara, with some anxiety.
"Trust me," said the explorer. "I won't fail you."
"Right!" said Barbara, with a sigh of satisfaction. They were silent. The snoring of the sleeping noblemen was heard.
"Look here; suppose you're caught at the safe getting the rubies, what are you going to do? Have you worked that out? It's no good leaving these things to the luck of the moment. You must have your course planned out for every emergency," said Jasper Forbes, gravely.
"I have; I am going to bolt for your car. You drive me round the park. I slip off my disguise in the car, come back from the opposite side of the park, and get into the house in the confusion. There'll be plenty of confusion whether I get away with the rubies or whether I don't. We can trust the Marquess to make all the confusion there is to be made."
"You have worked it out," said Jasper Forbes in a tone of warm approval.
"Of course I have. I don't mean to be taken alive; and I certainly don't want to have to shoot myself," said Barbara sombrely.
"Oh, that's all rot!" said Jasper Forbes sharply. "There's no need in the world to do anything silly like that. They'd make a fuss, of course, but they'd never prosecute."
"They'd have—if they're alive—to prosecute. I shouldn't be the only person shot. I'm not going to be taken without making a fight for it. I have Sibyl to think of," said Barbara, in a tone of cold resolution.
"But this is silly nonsense! You can't shoot; you're not in Africa!" cried Jasper Forbes, in lively exasperation. "I shall if I have to." said Barbara, stubbornly. "But there, I shan't have to. I shall take every precaution. I shall make absolutely sure that the coast is clear before I try for the rubies. After all, it won't take me five minutes to get them and clear. It isn't as if I had to break the safe open."
"I should jolly well think you would make sure!" said the explorer.
"Hang it all, make it fifty! What's the use of twenty-five to anyone?" said the shrill voice of Lord Fleetham.
"Goodness! He's awake; he's heard us!" said Barbara.
Jasper Forbes glanced at the sleeping nobleman. "Not a bit of it—only borrowing money in his sleep," he said contemptuously.
Barbara looked at the sleeping friends. "You had better straighten those two out a bit. They don't look to be sleeping naturally enough," she said.
"You do think of things," said Jasper Forbes, crossing to the sofa. Gently he pulled the Earl of Tilcombe to one corner of it. Lord Fleetham to the other. The Earl of Tilcombe muttered indignantly: "I haven't seen any gold chain purse." And they snored again.
"Sleeping beauties!" said Barbara, scornfully. "I'm going to sleep again myself. Go and find Mr. Gomme and come and wake us up. It won't look right for us to sleep too long." And she closed her eyes.
Jasper Forbes came slowly hack to the side of her chair, and stood looking down at her, thoughtfully.
"Half a minute, before you go to sleep," he said. "I've been thinking."
"I thought you looked pale," said Barbara, opening her eyes.
"If you're so keen on having money for your sister, there's a very simple way of getting it," he said slowly.
"There are no simple ways of getting money," said Barbara firmly. "What Is It?"
"Marry me," said Jasper Forbes.
"You call that simple!" said Barbara, sitting upright in her chair.
"Yes; I'll settle £20,000 on you; and then you can do anything you want for your sister," said Jasper Forbes.
"That's just the way I won't make money. I won't sell myself," said Barbara sharply.
"Well, you're the queerest girl I ever came across," said Jasper Forbes in unaffected surprise. "Many women of our acquaintance have sold themselves for much worse reasons than you seem to have; or, if they haven't sold themselves yet, they're ready to."
"Yes; but I won't. It's very kind of you, but I don't love you, and I can't marry you. That's the worst dishonesty—for a woman—I know," said Barbara, earnestly.
"Oh, you'd soon fall in love with me it you made up your mind to it," said Jasper Forbes with sanguine assurance.
"I'm afraid not," said Barbara, firmly.
"I'm awfully keen on you. I am really. Think it over," said the explorer.
Barbara looked at him curiously. "Surely you don't want to marry a—a—a—confederate of Kitty Meredith," she said in some astonishment.
"Why not?" said the explorer, with equal surprise. "A man—a live man—doesn't mind about that sort of thing in a woman he's fond of—not really, you know, though, of course, he may think that he has to gag about it a bit. And I'm in dead earnest."
"You are an odd creature," said Barbara. "But I'm afraid it's no use."
"Don't say that. Don't be in such a hurry," said Jasper Forbes, stooping down and taking her hand. "We're cut out for one another. We should get along like a house on fire. We've the same way of looking at things."
"I don't think we have, and I don't think we should," said Barbara, laughing gently. "And if we had the same way of looking at things, it would be an excellent reason why I shouldn't marry you. I don't want a husband exactly like yourself. Variety is the spice of married life."
"This isn't a matter for rotting," said Jasper Forbes, earnestly. "I tell you I'm in dead earnest about it. I never came across a woman I wanted half so much. Why, hang it! I never in my life asked a woman to marry me before."
"But I'm in dead earnest, too," protested Barbara. "I don't love you, and so I can't marry you."
"But you haven't given yourself any time to think it over," the explorer protested.
"It would be no use. My mind is made up," said Barbara, in a tone of decision.
"So's mine," said Jasper Forbes firmly. "I'm going to marry you, and that's all there is to it."
With that he bent down and tried to kiss her. Barbara ducked her head, and sprang up and away from him. He sprang forward and caught her, with a laugh of triumph.
"How dare you?" cried Barbara, struggling with him.
"Gently—gently! You'll only hurt yourself!" cried Jasper Forbes, persisting.
Absalom came through the long windows; Neither of them saw him.
"Loose me, you hulking cad," cried Barbara, fiercely.
"Drop it, Forbes!" cried Absalom, springing down the room. The explorer's lips touched Barbara's cheek as Absalom caught him by the collar and jerked him away from her. The explorer turned and closed with him, and they swayed, wrestling, across the room, while Barbara gazed at them with dilated eyes.
"Stop—stop! Don't hurt him, Mr. Forbes!" she cried. Her petition seemed unneeded, for even as she spoke Absalom, one of the most promising pupils who had ever passed through Professor Kato's school of Ju-Jitsu in the Red Lion-square, got the grip he was seeking; Jasper Forbes described a short, neat parabola in the drawing room air, and descended heavily on the sofa which contained the slumbering friends.
"Caught him that time!" cried Absalom cheerfully. On his word there burst on the air an appalling howl as Lord Fleetham, the Earl of Tilcombe, and Jasper Forbes came to the floor in a scrambling heap. The howl came from the lungs of Lord Fleetham; and at the sound of it the Marquess sprang from his chair, crying, with every symptom of acute, but startled curiosity:
"What it Is? What's the matter?"
"I was just showing Forbes a little ju-jitsu trick,"' said Absalom calmly.
Lord Fleetham rose from the tangle of writhing limbs and bodies, and danced lightly round the room, howling: "You've broken my back! You've broken my back!"
"You should not teach this—er—er—science in a drawing-room," said the Marquess with some severity.
"If I had really broken his back, he wouldn't be able to shout like that," said Absalom in a reassuring tone.
"You have broken it!" Lord Fleetham cried; and dancing up to the dazed Earl of Tilcombe, he said, "Rub my back, Billy. Rub it hard! There's a good chap."
The dazed Earl began to rub the back of his injured friend with such an air of bewilderment that the angry Barbara began to laugh; and Jasper Forbes, who had found his noble friends soft to fall upon, sat on the floor with his back against the sofa, and roared with childlike glee.
"I hope I was in time," said Absalom in a low' voice to Barbara.
"Not quite," said Barbara; and she took out her handkerchief and rubbed her cheek carefully. "I'd have broken a bone or two if I'd known. I ought to have done it as it was. Next time I get my hands on him I'll break something badly," said Absalom through his set teeth, and he glared savagely at the laughing explorer.
"No, no; you mustn't touch him. He's a very dangerous man. You're to leave him alone," said Barbara with anxious vehemence.
Jasper Forbes sprang to his foot, very lightly Tor a man of his bulk, and, still laughing, said, "Now how on earth did you do that, Gomme? I'd have bet anything you couldn't have stirred me on my foot, much less thrown me."
"I can throw you every time, and next time I throw you I'll break something," said Absalom with unabated savageness.
"You have broken something! You've broken my backbone!" wailed Lord Fleetham.
"Nonsense, Pinky! You haven't got any backbone!" said Absalom, indignantly.
"Lord Fleetham has a backbone like everybody else," said the Marquess very stiffly.
"Yes; I spoke hastily. I was mixing up the mental and the physical," said Absalom, in somewhat lame apology.
"It was your flabby look that deceived me, Gomme," said Jasper Forbes.
"I haven't got a flabby look!" said Absalom indignantly.
"Oh, yes, you have," said the imperturbable explorer. "And I was taken in once before in exactly the same way by an infernal dacoit in Burmah—a man we used to call the Spanish Cock because his hair was just like its feathers. To look at him, there wasn't an ounce of muscle on him. He looked as flabby as you do."
"I don't look flabby!" cried Absalom, with even greater indignation.
"Mr. Gomme didn't look flabby when he threw you across the room," said Barbara, with flashing eyes. "And I wish you had hit the wall hard—with your head."
"Good heavens! If my head had hit the wall there'll have been an inquest and all kinds of fuss. You wouldn't have liked that," said the explorer, in a tone of grave remonstrance.
"Shouldn't I?" said Barbara, vindictively; and her eyes sparkled and flashed.
"I'm hanged if there's any pleasing you women!" said Jasper Forbes, bitterly.
The door opened, and Jenkins entered, bearing a telegram on a salver. He came to the explorer and said: "A telegram for you, sir."
Jasper Forbes took the telegram and opened it. Lord Fleetham tottered from his ineffectual friend to Jenkins, saying ungratefully, "You're no good, Billy; you're not strong enough. Rub my back, Jenkins; it's broken."
With his stately air Jenkins began to rub Lord Fleetham's back.
"I had no idea you were so strong," said Barbara to Absalom, and she looked at him with a now respect in her eyes.
"But of course I keep my muscles hard. It would be unscientific to have soft muscles," said Absalom.
"I do like men to be strong," said Barbara, and the respect in her eyes deepened.
"I like you to like me for as many things as possible," said Absalom, gently.
Barbara turned away from him rather quickly, and a faint flush warmed her pale checks, "You always seem to come to my help," she said.
"I wish I'd come a bit quicker!" said Absalom.
"Hang it all! You're rubbing too hard! More gently, Jenkins!" cried Lord Fleetham.
Jasper Forbes stepped forward and said to the Marquess: "This is very unfortunate, Lord Gillingham. But I find that. I shall have to hurry back to London—just as I was beginning to enjoy myself thoroughly. The Biteiah Syndicate has suddenly woke up, and wants me in town at once. There's no help for it; I've got to go. Please excuse my rushing away in such a hurry."
"We shall be sorry to lose you, Mr. Forbes," said the Marquess in a gracious tone. "But, of course, the er—er—claims of the Empire."
"Ah, yes. Good-bye. And thank you for a very pleasant time," said the explorer, shaking hands with him. "Good-bye, Mr. Forbes. I hope that your enterprise will be successful," said the Marquess.
"Thank you," said Jasper Forbes, crossing the room to Barbara, and holding out his hand.
"Good-bye, Miss Lessing."
"Good-bye, Mr Forbes," said Barbara very coldly, ignoring his outstretched hand.
"Ah, you bear malice for my little joke. Never bear malice," said the unruffled explorer. "I shall see you in town before I start. Goodbye, Pinky. Good-bye, Billy!"
"Good-bye! Gently, Jenkins—gently!" said Lord Fleetham.
"Good-bye!" said the Earl of Tilcombe in a faint dazed tone.
"Good-bye, Gomme. You'll have to teach me that ju-jitsu trick—you will really," said the explorer.
"I'd better not; I should hurt you," said Absalom grimly.
"Oh, you won't hurt me," said Jasper Forbes cheerfully, and he went through the door. Of a sudden Lord Fleetham burst away from the patient Jenkins, and rushed to the door.
"Hang it all, Forbes, you mustn't go!" he cried. "We're only seven again. There's not enough for two tables! You mustn't leave us in the lurch like this-"
Absalom was frowning thoughtfully at the door.
"Don't you worry, Pinky," he said, "Forbes will come back."
WITH the going of Jasper Forbes peace fell on the drawing room. They lost no time getting to bridge, and to his great pleasure Absalom was cut out of the first rubber. As soon as the four who cut in were settled down at the table, he strolled quietly through the long windows and out into the garden.
Since six was a full table, he made no doubt that these enthusiasts would prefer his room to his company, and he might very well got a peaceful hour or two for consideration of the points in the problem he had to solve, and for any inquiries and exploration he might think useful to help him in its solution.
He chose the spot for his meditation with care. He carried a comfortable wickerwork chair from the middle of the lawn into a shady clump or Wellingtonias from which he could keep an eye on the windows of the drawing room which held the guests of the Marquess, and from which he could also observe the drive up the avenue in the park by which anyone must come to the castle or leave it. Then he lighted another of his large and very fine cigars to assist the free flow of his Ideas.
First he considered the information he had acquired about the whereabouts of the rubies and the means taken for their secure keeping. The fact that they were not only in a secret room, but also locked in a safe, made it clear to him that in this operation at any rate Kitty Meredith must have a confederate or confederates.
The first step to their removal must necessarily be the getting them out of the safe. There were two ways of doing this: either the thieves must obtain possession of the keys of the safe, or they must break it open. To get possession of the keys of the safe Kitty Meredith must have a confederate in the castle; to break open the safe she must bring with her from the outside an accomplished cracksman. He thought it most probable that she herself, or a confederate, had learned that the Marquess kept the keys in his waistcoat pocket. His habit of fumbling with that pocket, whenever the rubies were mentioned, made it uncommonly unlikely that he was the only person who had ever stayed in the castle of sufficient intelligence to lead to the conclusion that those keys were the object of the Marquess's fumbling that he was assuring himself that they were safe.
Knowing Kitty Meredith's methods as be did, it seemed to him most likely that she would try to obtain possession of the keys. Who was the confederate in the castle who was going to obtain them? It was a case of obtaining the keys themselves. It was exceedingly improbable that she would be content to make the attempt with keys made from wax impressions of the real ones—such a key would be very unlikely to open the lock of a good safe. Of the guests of the Marquess, Jasper Forbes was by far the most likely to be that confederate.
Absalom considered him at some length, and he decided that, both on account of his quite unscrupulous temper and his occupations in the remote parts of Africa during the last few years, there was nothing in the world to prevent Jasper Forbes from attempting to collect the Gillingham rubies, should a fair chance of doing so without being detected come his way.
He had hardly come to this conclusion when ho saw Jasper Forbes himself come sweeping round the curve of the drive in a large green Daimler car, and go down the avenue through the park. Absalom's eyes caught two facts, and he wondered at them—the one that the explorer had no chauffeur, and the other the pace at which the car was going. He know that Jasper Forbes had a somewhat bad reputation as a road-hog, and it was odd that he did not bucket his car down the splendid mile of smooth road to the park, gates. Moreover, he had an eighty-mile journey before him, and he was going at the pace of a man whose destination is twenty miles away.
He watched him out of sight, then returned to his consideration of the problem. This sudden departure of Jasper Forbes was undoubtedly odd. For two years—from the time he had left Oxford to his father's death—Absalom had acted as English agent of his father's business, and he had acquired a considerable knowledge of the leisurely business methods of the English. He was quite sure that the men whom Jasper Forbes had interested in the Biteiah expedition had not made up their minds to finance it in such a hurry as forced the explorer to dash off to London at a moment's notice.
What was the reason of his hasty departure? He wondered whether Kitty Meredith had learned of his own descent upon Gillingham Castle, and had withdrawn her agent. It seemed unlikely enough, almost impossible, that she should have learnt it. Assuredly it was very unlikely that she had heard of it from the Castle itself. It was three miles from a telegraph office. Jasper Forbes had certainly not wired himself, though he might have sent one of the servants with a wire. But why should he lie?
It was just possible that Kitty Meredith had told him of the struggles she, had had with him—of those at least in which she had been successful. But it was not likely. Absalom had far too high an opinion of her intelligence and attainments to believe that she would idly boast, even to a confederate, of her exploits. There was more of a chance that she had given the explorer, a general warning, to keep on his guard against him.
It was always possible that she had learned that Absalom had been warned of her enterprise, and had withdrawn Forbes on that account. That might explain his leaving the Castle; but it was more probable that his leaving the Castle was part of the scheme, though Absalom could not for the life of him see how the position of the schemers had altered since the morning. The Marquess had had the keys in his pocket when he arrived. Forbes had had no chance of getting them since then.
Then it flashed on Absalom that the Marquess might have had the keys in his pocket, but not the real ones. They might have been changed.
He rose and strolled back to the drawing-room and looked in through the windows at the players. The Marquess was not playing; and Absalom, without being noticed by the enthusiasts, beckoned to him to come out.
The Marquess came, and they strolled twenty yards along the terrace. Then Absalom said; "Those keys you had in your pocket this morning—are you sure that they are the right keys? They may have been changed without your noticing it."
"They're the right keys," said the Marquess confidently. "Just before lunch I opened the safe with them, and made sure that the rubies were in it. They're in my pocket still, and they haven't been out of it."
"That's good hearing," said Absalom, relieved.
The Marquess returned to the drawing-room, and Absalom strolled on. It was clear that Jasper Forbes had not gone away with the keys. It begun to look very much as though Kitty Meredith's confederate were still in the Castle. Yet Absalom could not get it out of his head that Jasper Forbes was concerned in the affair. His cavalier treatment of Barbara had disposed him to take the worst view of a man of whom he had already had a very poor opinion. Well, there was no reason in the world why Jasper Forbes and some third person still in the house should not both be confederates of Kitty Meredith. But who was the third person?
Absalom was inclined to think that it might he Lord Fleetham; that confiding nobleman had said that a girl had put him on to a good thing, and there was nothing in Fleetham's character or circumstances to prevent that good thing being the Gillingham rubies. As heirlooms the rubies would never be of any real monetary use to Lord Fleetham; they would sometimes in the future merely adorn his wife, if any woman were ever so unfortunate as to occupy that equivocal position. But Pinky was not the man to let the future adornment of a problematical wife stand in the way of getting, say, five hundred pounds for his present spending.
But Absalom only regarded Fleetham's share in the enterprise as a possibility; he was a long way from having any evidence of it. Only it would be well to keep a look-out for such evidence. He wished that M. Vaillant had expanded his wire with a little more information. Evidently Kitty Meredith had been in Paris, and had fallen under the observation of that astute watcher. The report of her doings might be of the greatest value to him In the present conjuncture. Doubtless it was on its way to him, but it was a pity that the thrift of his race made M. Vaillant so sparing of words in a wire.
He little guessed how valuable that report would have been; that it contained an account of the exit of Kitty Meredith and Jasper Forbes from the offices of Ferdinand Ferrer. Not only would the knowledge have been of the greatest practical use to him at the present moment; but he would have been pleased and encouraged by the fact that his instinct had quite rightly pointed to Jasper Forbes as the important person in the affair.
It occurred to him that he could set his mind at rest about whether the explorer had really betaken himself to London or not, and that it would be a great advantage to know. He strolled around to the castle garage. In it he found Martin, his own chauffeur, the chauffeur of the Marquess, and the Earl of Tilcombe's chauffeur engaged in an amicable and highly technical conversation. He called Martin out to him, and said, "I want you to do a little tracking for me."
Martin's face brightened. He took a great interest in his master's essays in the detection of crime, and was always delighted to be employed in them. He had come to pride himself on his growing skill as a sleuth-hound. Besides, Absalom always paid handsomely for success.
"Yes, sir," he said eagerly. "I want you to follow Mr. Forbes—you know him, of course—and find out where he has gone to. He said that he was going to London; but I have reason to believe that he is not going so far. He has seen my car?" said Absalom.
"I don't think so, sir. He hasn't been near the garage to my knowledge since we arrived here," said Martin.
"Good." said Absalom. "Does he know you by sight?"
"I don't think he has ever set eyes on me, sir," said Martin.
"Well, that makes the matter fairly simple," said Absalom. "It lets you work at your ease. And I don't want him on any account to know that you are tracking him. It's most Important that he should not even guess it."
"He shan't, sir," said Martin. "And I need hardly tell you that I don't want anyone here to know what your errand is," said Absalom.
"No, sir," said Martin.
"And I want you to be back, at any rate, before dinner," said Absalom. "You may take it that if Mr. Forbes has gone fifty miles down the London road he will go the rest of the way to town, and you can come back and let me know," said Absalom.
"Yes, sir," said Martin.
"Off you go then," said Absalom, and Martin hurried, back to the garage, all on fire to start on the trail. The car, a forty horse power motor, was ready to leave the garage, and Martin jumped into it and started. Absalom saw him go down the avenue at a very different pace from that which Jasper Forbes had gone down it, the pace which had excited his interest. He made little doubt that Martin would catch up with the explorer, if the explorer had not turned off from the main, road, in something less than an hour.
As a matter of fact, Jasper Forbes had turned off the main road, and that within a mile of the Castle gates. But the roads round Gillingham Castle are not much used by motorists, and Martin had his eyes on the fresh tracks which the explorer's car had made. He slowed down at the turning which Jasper Forbes had taken, saw that the fresh tracks ran down it, and found himself able to follow them at thirty miles an hour with easy, since they were the only motor car tracks along the cross country roads which the explorer had taken.
Fifteen miles further on, half an hour later, the tracks ran into a main road. Five miles further on he came to the town of Claybury, and stopped at the Red Lion, manifestly the chief Inn of the little town, to make inquiries over a drink. He did not stop in front of the Inn. He drove his car into its yard with the intention of buying a tin of petrol, and also inquiring as he made the purchase. The first thing he saw in the whilom coachhouse, now garage, of the inn was the motor car of Jasper Forbes.
He found that the Inn was out of petrol, a lack which left him untroubled since he had plenty in his tank; but the discussion of where to get it started a conversation with the ostler, and from him he learned that the owner of the lately arrived car was dining in the inn, and would perhaps spend the night there.
Having ascertained all that he wanted to know, Martin, an abstemious man, saw no need for any further consideration over a drink, but stepped back into his car, and went on to the end of the town, to the bicycle repairer's at which petrol could be procured, and bought a tin. He thought it more than likely that should the bicycle repairer go to the inn for an evening drink, the ostler would not fall to inform him that he had sent a petrol purchaser to him that afternoon. Then he turned his car and took his way quickly back to Gillingham Castle.
Absalom had spent the time of his chauffeur's absence on exploration. Ho had no doubt that, did Jasper Forbes return, he would return in his car. It was not likely that he would return up the avenue, for the park gates were closed at night, and night was thee most probable time of his return. He walked round the boundary of the park, looking for the nearest point to the Castle to which Jasper Forbes could bring his car and leave it while he made his attempt on the rubies. Of course, he was working in the air. He had no certain knowledge that Jasper Forbes was engaged in any attempt on the rubies, but that he did not mind. He was quite ready to follow the promptings of his instinct, and he had more than once found that they were very useful promptings to follow.
Indeed, he prided himself on what he sometimes called his Napoleonic flair, that instinct which leads a man to divine and so anticipate his opponent's plans. He tried to cultivate it, and he always tried to put himself in his opponent's place. Besides, if Jasper Forbes were not going to make an attempt on the rubies from the outside, it was quite likely that Kitty Meredith herself, or some other of her agents, was; and in that case he could not know too much of the topography of the Castle and its surroundings. Moreover, the park was very beautiful, and it was a delightful afternoon to enjoy its beauty.
He walked along the tall wooden paling which ran round the park, in an entirely contented frame of mind. Then he came upon the spot for which he was looking. He had gone down the avenue nearly to the gates of the park and walked up the left side of it, for the road from the main road to London, which ran some ten miles away, came down that side of the park.
Two hundred yards from the Castle he crossed a bridge above a little weir in the stream which ran through the park, and fifty yards nearer the Castle he found a little gate in the paling, which opened on to the road. There was a thicket on the further side of the road, and broad turf up to the hedge of the thicket. That turf looked to him an ideal place to leave a car. There was no danger that any cart or carriage coming down the road would run into it; it might even escape notice in the shadow of the trees. It would certainly not be seen if the thieves waited for a dark night. He was very pleased indeed to have observed it.
Should the thieves get away with the rubies, he would have a chance of cutting them off before they reached the car. He felt that his time had not been wasted, that he was beginning to see the probable course of the attempt.
From the gate to the beginning of the Castle garden ran a larch thicket; and through the gate of the garden he came into a shrubbery of tall deodoras, which ended at the lawn on to which the windows of the Blue Room opened. It really looked as if the designer of the gardens had provided the thieves with a covered way from the park gate to the rubies.
Having done all that he could out of doors, Absalom returned to the drawing-room. He found the enthusiasts playing hard, Barbara still in very good luck. He had some tea, and then cut into the game In the place of Miss Cantelune, who had tired of auction and dragged Lord Fleetham forth, much against his will, to play croquet with her. Absalom played steadily away till it was time to dress for dinner. When the table broke up the Marquess waited till the others were drifting out of the room; then he drew Absalom aside, and asked him whether he had discovered any evidence that Kitty Meredith had begun her enterprise.
"None at all, so far; but then I hardly expected to," said Absalom. "You see I only have the barest scrap of information, just the fact that she is going to try to steal the rubies. Possibly my Paris correspondent will give me some further details In the written report I am expecting from him; but probably I shall get no more information from him of any importance, because if he had had it he would have wired It."
"I see," said the Marquess. "But it doesn't seem natural that he should learn just the chief fact and get nothing else."
"It all depends how he learnt It," said Absalom. "It is curious that he should have learnt such a fact at all. Consider how few people should have known it—Ferrer, to whom she probably came with the proposition, her confederate in the enterprise, or say two confederates, and Kitty Meredith herself. She is not a girl to choose her confederates carelessly; they are very unlikely to have talked. The fact must have come to my correspondent in some odd way."
"Ah," said the Marquess, with a knowing air; "we all know how a secret is kept when there is a woman in It."
"Yes; but I have already told you that Kitty Meredith isn't a woman, but a genius. Besides, It's all old-fashioned rubbish to say that a woman can't keep a secret. Women are the sex which keeps and always kept secrets. They have always had so many more to keep than men. With regard to other people's secrets they keep them as well as men do; and their own secrets they keep a great deal better. This was Kitty Meredith's own secret, and I'll warrant that she kept it. It's much more likely to have been Ferrer who gave it away."
"You certainly have a high opinion of this young woman," said the Marquess.
"I have reason for it," said Absalom.
"And you have made no discovery whatever?" said the Marquess, somewhat dolefully.
"No; I have just been exploring the surroundings of the Castle, getting the topography into my head. One can't know too much about the mise-en-scène of a crime," said Absalom. "I think I have plenty of time before me. I do not expect the attempt to be made on one of these moonlit nights. They are practically certain to wait for a dark night. It lessens the risk so much."
"Yes; I see that," said the Marquess. "What made you take up this curious hobby?"
"Well, you know, we Americans are never really happy unless we're at work at something or other. When I came down from Oxford, I went into my father's business for a couple of years. I did not care much for it; it was too simple for me. It didn't give enough scope to my reasoning facilities. Then my father died, leaving me as much money as is good for any man. I wanted work, not money—work that I really liked, and the fancy took me to set up as a kind of protector of the polite world against all the different kinds of crooks who infest it. It gave me just the kind of work that suits me—a kind of sublimated chess. It's a game with no end of work in it; and, of course. I have all the money which is needed to run it properly, and it needs a lot of money."
"Very creditable indeed," said the Marquess.
"Oh, there's no credit due to me; I just love it," said Absalom. "It's useful, of course, to the polite world; but also it's very exciting, when you get hot on a trail."
"It's like hunting," said the Marquess, and paused. Then he added, "I should never have taken you for an American, Mr. Gomme. You don't speak like one at all."
"Oh, I always speak the language of the country I am in, if I know it," said Absalom. "In the States you would never take me for anything but an American. In Germany I am as German as I can be. It always saves trouble to belong, or seem to belong, to the country you are in; and It doesn't take long to acquire an English accent, it you give your mind to it. But I must be off and dress. I am expecting a little information before dinner."
He went up to his bedroom, and there he found his accomplished valet, Johnson. He had not reached the Castle from Rowington till after Absalom had gone down to lunch, so that this was Absalom's first opportunity of questioning him about the Gillingham servants and the servants of the Earl of Tilcombe and Lady Sarratt. Johnson gave it as his opinion that none of them had brains enough to be trusted by anyone to take part in such a serious undertaking as the theft of the Gillingham rubies.
This confirmed Absalom's own opinion that the confederate of Kitty Meredith was to be looked for among the guests of the Marquess. But he bade Johnson keep his eyes open for he might always find reason to change his mind.
He had nearly finished dressing when there came a knock at his door; and Johnson admitted Martin.
"If you please, sir," said Martin, "I found Mr. Forbes has stopped at Claybury. And he's going to dine there, and perhaps stay the night."
"And how far away from here is Claybury?" said Absalom.
"It's a trifle over twenty miles across country," said Martin.
Absalom congratulated himself on having observed the pace at which Jasper Forbes had left Gillingham. It was indeed important to know that the explorer had stopped twenty miles away from the castle.
THE Marquess hurried over his dressing, for it was his punctilious habit to be in the drawing-room before his guests. He reached it a little breathless from his haste, and was pleased to find that he had accomplished the feat of being first. He had not been in it two minutes when Miss Cantelune entered.
"Oh, Marquess, the rubies; have you got them out for us to see?" she said at once.
"I'd quite forgotten all about them," said the Marquess. "I'll go and get them now."
"Shall I come and help you?" said Miss Cantelune, smiling. "I know that you keep them in a secret hiding place. Lady Sarratt told me so; and I should like to know the secret."
"I should be charmed, charmed to share it with you," said the Marquess gallantly, for he was always softened by the immediate prospect of dinner. "But the family tradition—the family tradition absolutely forbids it."
"What a pity!" said Miss Cantelune sadly. The Marquess went briskly out of the door and into the Blue Room. He waited for a minute to see whether Miss Cantelune's curiosity got so much the better of her sense of propriety as to set her peeping. The drawing-room door remained shut. He closed the door of the Blue Room, and locked it, shut the windows, fastened them, and drew the curtains. Then he pressed the spring which opened the panel of the secret room, and stepped into it. He closed the panel behind him, switched on the electric lamp, took out the keys, and went to the safe.
The first key went into the keyhole quite smoothly; but it would not turn the lock. The Marquess worked the key about and pressed and pressed. It was no use; it would not turn the lock. He took it out and tried the other key. It seemed to him to fit the keyhole more tightly than it had been used to; and it would no more turn the lock than the other.
He was puzzled. Those keys had opened the safe for twenty-five years with perfect smoothness; It was the very first time there had been a hitch. He examined them carefully by the light of the electric lamp. They were undoubtedly the keys he had always used. Indeed they could not be any others; they had been in his pockets, first in the waistcoat pocket of his tweed suit, then in the pocket of his white waistcoat, ever since he had opened the safe before lunch to make sure that the rubies were there.
He tried both the keys again carefully. It was no use; they would not open the lock. He came out of the secret room very much puzzled indeed. He could not think of any reason why the lock should have gone wrong. Of a sudden he remembered that he had slammed to the door of the safe before lunch. That must be it; the jar had injured the delicate mechanism of the lock.
He drew the curtains and opened the windows of the Blue Room with impatient jerks. He was greatly annoyed, for he foresaw considerable trouble in finding an absolutely trustworthy person to repair the lock. He would have to trust a stranger with the secret of the hidden room. For a moment he thought of breaking the safe out of its cement himself and dragging it out into the Blue Room to have the lock repaired there. But he remembered that such an operation was quite beyond his strength. Then it occurred to him that he might do it with the help of Absalom. The thought was comforting; it smoothed some of the depths out of the frown which wrinkled his brow as he came Into the drawing-room.
He found all his guests gathered together. Only Miss Cantelune knew that he had gone to fetch the rubies, and she had not told anyone, because Lord Fleetham had come into the room in a state of lively, querulous agitation, and had absorbed all her attention by his relation of his sorrow at having received a wire from London to inform him that his bookmaker, one man in the world who owed him money, had fled the country, a broken man. Lord Fleetham found it the more distressing because he had in the course of the last seven or eight years paid that bookmaker more than seventy thousand pounds.
The marquess himself said nothing to his guests at large about the failure of the keys and the annoyance it was causing him. He only told Miss Cantelune when she escaped from the sorrows of Lord Fleetham. Then Absalom drew him aside, and said, "Would it be possible for us to play our bridge in the Blue Room after dinner? Of course, as I told you, I don't believe that there is any likelihood of the attempt being made to-night, but still I never like to take chance. It can do no harm for us to be between the thieves and the rubies. Later—between eleven and one—when the servants have gone to bed and we are playing it would not be half a bad time for the burglars to try for the rubies, for we should drown any noise they were making. We don't play a silent game by any means."
"Certainly—certainly," said the marquess readily. "We sometimes have the table in the Tower Room on a hot night like this. It is so much cooler than the Blue Room itself indeed, it's the coolest room in the castle."
"That will do excellently," said Absalom.
"Yes; it will be better than the drawing-room in every way," said the marquess. "By the way-"
"Hang it all!" cried Lord Fleetham, interrupting him just as he was going to tell Absalom that the lock of the safe had been injured. "Are we never going to have dinner, governor. We shan't get any bridge tonight! What with Gomme keeping every course waiting, and our having our coffee in the drawing-room, it will be ten o'clock before we begin."
"You are so impatient, Fleetham," said the Marquess, tartly.
"And what possible difference can it make whether we have coffee in the drawing-room or the dining-room? We drink it just as quickly in one as in the other. We must do."
"It makes all the difference," said Lord Fleetham bitterly.
"It does; it would be a shame to rob you of a grievance, Pinky," said Absalom. "But at the same time these things would not hurt your feelings so badly if you were to stop drinking alcohol. It's that that makes you so sensitive."
"Rats!" said Lord Fleetham hotly.
"Where? Where? What colour? Pinky sees rats!" cried Absalom. The simple joke drew a smile from the Marquess, a laugh from Miss Cantelune, and the glee of the Earl of Tilcombe found utterance in a grating scream. Then Jenkins announced dinner, and they trooped into the dining-room.
At first the talk was general and trivial, and Absalom again looked in vain among his fellow guests for signs of the nervousness which might be expected to Invade anyone who was about to attempt to steal their host's rubies. To judge from the talk, the mind of everyone was entirely free from care.
He was strengthened in his conviction that Jasper Forbes was Kitty Meredith's real confederate; that if any of the others were to play a part in the enterprise it was only a very small part, some such simple thing as opening a window for the entrance of the chief conspirators. Presently the general talk was brought to an end by a furious discussion between Lord Fleetham and the Earl of Tilcombe about the respective merits and performance of two horses of the name of Jabberwock and the Weaver, and the Marquess talked to Miss Cantelune, Absalom to Barbara and Lady Sarratt, between whom he was sitting.
To them it was possible to talk, and Absalom began to enjoy himself. He had never known Barbara in better spirits—sometimes even her laughter seemed to him a little feverish. But it did not surprise him, for he knew that what with her anxieties about Sybil and about money she was always living under a strain.
More than once as dinner went on he was disposed to tell her of the enterprise of Kitty Meredith. He thought that she might prove a useful ally in combating that ingenious young lady, for he had a great belief in the quickness of her intelligence. But he refrained. After all, she had enough troubles of her own without being worried by those of the Marquess. Besides, it was contrary to his principles to take any more people into his confidence than was necessary—Lady Sarratt was one too many, though he had little fear of her talking. He contented himself, therefore, with enjoying Barbara's vivid and sparkling beauty, and admiring the intelligence with which she grasped and handled the themes they discussed.
After dinner they went to the Blue room, and there M. Leroux gave them their coffee. Lord Fleetham found occasion to be querulous about the change. It ruffled his intensely conservative sensibilities' that they should not be having their coffee and playing their bridge in the drawing-room. for his part, when they went into the Tower room to their bridge, Absalom was enchanted by it.
The great stretch of country below its windows was bright in the moonlight, the streams ran through it like silver ribands; faint light gleamed from a score of villages dotted about the expanse. He played the first rubber, and then sat in one of the broad, cushioned window seats, looking down on it with Barbara, and talking softly. She cut into the next rubber; and he went through the Blue Room out into the garden. He prowled round the Castle and about the gardens. He walked through the deodora shrubbery and the larch thicket, to the little gate of the park. On the bridge above the weir he found M. Leroux and a girl whom he recognised as Barbara's pretty maid, Josephine. He exchanged a few words with them on the beauty of the night, and made haste to leave them to their love musing, for it seemed to him that in such a place on such a night that must be their occupation.
When he came hack Into the Blue Room he found Lord Fleetham standing at a table on which were set decanters and glasses, mixing himself a whisky and soda, while Lady Sarratt was sitting in an easy chair regarding him with faint disapproval.
"Hang it all! Why aren't we playin' in the drawing-room," cried Lord Fleetham in a tone of bitter exasperation. "We always play in the drawing-room. I play ever so much better in the drawing-room."
"You're very hard to please, Pinky," said Lady Sarratt. "The only wind that is stirring tonight comes through the Tower windows; and you have one of the finest views in England to look down upon."
"What's the good of views when you're playing auction?" said Lord Fleetham with unabated bitterness. "I hate playin' in that poky little hole."
And he took a savage drink at his whisky and soda.
"Surely Pinky is never grumbling. No, it cannot be," said Absalom coming through the window.
"It sounds very like it," said Lady Sarratt patiently.
"It's amazing," said Absalom.
"Hang it all. Who wouldn't grumble? I've been sittin' out all the evenin'," cried the disappointed enthusiast.
"Yes; you've only played in two rubbers out of three," said Lady Sarratt still patiently.
"And he made up for being cut out of the third by playing execrably," said Absalom in the kindest tone.
"And before I've done I shall go an' revoke—I know I shall," wailed the unfortunate nobleman.
"You're bound to—several times," said Absalom.
"Come on, Pinky. We're waiting for you," cried the Earl of Tilcombe from the Tower room. Fleetham went through the half-drawn curtains carrying with him his depleted glass of whisky and soda. Absalom sat down near Lady Sarratt.
"Whose idea was it that we should play here? I understood that we were going to play in the drawing-room," said Lady Sarratt.
"It was my idea," said Absalom. "An attempt might have been made on the rubies while we were playing in the drawing-room, and here we're nearer the rubies and very much in the way of the thieves."
"I thought that might be it," said Lady Sarratt. "Then the rubies are hidden in this room. I guessed that they were."
"They're not very far away from it," said Absalom cautiously.
"Yours is not a trusting nature," said Lady Sarratt. "I believe you don't even trust me."
"Implicitly—implicitly," said Absalom, with generous warmth. "And as long as you know nothing I shall go on trusting and trusting you."
"Pig," said Lady Sarratt with conviction.
Absalom laughed gently.
"And how's the Investigation going? Have you discovered anything?" she said.
"It's getting on very nicely, thanks. It's a purely scientific problem, so I can proceed quite smoothly by the process of elimination."
"What's that?" asked Lady Sarratt.
"I'm excluding from the problem everyone who is quite unlikely to be the confederate of Kitty Meredith. That lets you out, and Miss Cantelune, and the Marquess himself," said Absalom, jumping at the chance of talking over the affair with someone, for he had often found that a viva voce discussion of a problem often set it clearer in his mind than the most careful and extended pondering.
"How gladly we ought to be," said Lady Sarratt ironically.
"Yes. But, unfortunately, that still leaves me with an embarras de richesses in the way of persons to choose those confederates from. There's Pinky-"
"Pinky! Pinky would never steal the Gillingham rubies! Why, they will be his some day," cried Lady Sarratt.
"Some day is always such a long way off to a person of Pinky's simple and direct mind. He wants the rubies now, or, at any rate, the money he would get from the sale of the rubies. It would set him on his feet for more than three months. And we cannot imagine our Pinky sticking at anything to get money," said Absalom, with conviction.
"That is so. But nobody would dream of trusting Pinky to do anything—no one who knew him. He'd be bound to make a mull of it," said Lady Sarratt.
"Of course, he hasn't the brains to steal them himself," said Absalom. "But he might be a useful tool in the hands of Kitty Meredith. She could trust him to do some such simple thing as let her burglar in. He can move about the Castle at any hour without exciting suspicion. So you see he's very much in the problem."
"Yes: I see." said Lady Sarratt thoughtfully. "There's a good deal in that."
"Then there's Tilcombe," said Absalom.
"But he's not hard up! He has no reason to steal rubies!" cried Lady Sarratt. "No; but he's a crack-brained kleptomaniac. At any moment, at say Kitty Meredith's suggestion, his soul might rise above spoons and forks, and he might blossom out into a determined jewel-thief. Why, he might shine as a confederate."
"I can see Billy shining," said Lady Sarratt, laughing.
"He might—you never can tell. But I can hardly exclude a kleptomaniac from the problem. Can I?" said Absalom.
"Well, I suppose you can't," said Lady Sarratt.
"Then there's Miss Lessing," said Absalom.
"Barbara! Nonsense! That's utterly absurd!" cried Lady Sarratt.
"On the face of it, it is," said the imperturbable Absalom. "But we are dealing with the matter scientifically, not sentimentally. Miss Lessing has her dressmaker to pay, and her invalid sister to keep. There's no doubt that she would find the money from the sale of the Gillingham rubies acceptable indeed. Besides, she has the brains and the courage to collar the rubies for herself if it had occurred to her. In these matters my motto is thoroughness. I never neglect a possible factor!"
"Oh, but Barbara!" protested Lady Sarratt. "It's absurd."
"Yes, yes, I know. But none the less I can't exclude her from the problem. It wouldn't be scientific," said Absalom firmly.
"Well, there are three out of four possible confederates."
"And who's the fourth?" said Lady Sarratt.
"Jasper Forbes."
"Oh, I give you Mr. Forbes," said Lady Sarratt, with an almost cheerful readiness.
"That's most probably my man."
"I can't imagine Mr. Forbes sticking at anything," said Lady Sarratt.
"No, he's spent so much time acquiring the property of blacks by the quickest means to hand, that by now he must believe that he has an equal claim to the property of whites if he can get a chance of laying his hands on it. I have a very strong fancy indeed that he is out gunning for these rubies—a very strong fancy, said Absalom.
"A fancy? But is that scientific?" said Lady Sarratt.
"Quite—quite," said Absalom quickly. "It's a flair, an intuition. I often get results through trusting to it."
"But why has Mr. Forbes gone away? Surely he was in a much better position to get the rubies while he stayed in the castle?" said Lady Sarratt.
"That's just what I don't know—the reason of his going. But I'm quite sure that he's coming back; and it's my idea that Pinky, Billy, or Miss Lessing is going to let him into the Castle when he does return for the actual attempt. But, of course, It's only an idea," said Absalom.
"But where does Kitty Meredith come in?" said Lady Sarratt.
"I doubt that she will come in—in person," said Absalom. "I am expecting her to work the affair from the outside. That's how I see things at present. If she had taken an active personal part in it, it would have been to steal the keys of the safe. I wish she would come in. I'd give anything to lay hands on her. But I shan't get the chance. Forbes will come in."
"Well, that will be quite thrilling enough," said Lady Sarratt.
"It will be quite thrilling enough for him," said Absalom grimly, "He'll find me after him with a hot stick; if I get my grip on him I'm going to break something for keeps."
"How you do dislike him! I wonder why it is," said Lady Sarratt, smiling mischievously. "Of course, it couldn't be jealousy, could it?"
"No, it Isn't that," said Absalom quickly. "But there's one thing I can't stand about the well-fed Englishman in our set, and that's his lack or respect for women."
"Oh, has our dear Jasper been behaving In his usual mid-African way? Who was it?" said Lady Surratt with a sudden lively curiosity.
Absalom did not gratify her curiosity. She was Barbara's friend; but the leas said about snatched kisses the better. He said, "Well, that's how I see this affair at present. Of course, it's all in the air. I don't expect it to assume any consistent form yet awhile—not for four or five days at any rate. Perhaps not for a week or more."
"Yes; but about Mr. Forbes's lack of respect for women. Who was it?" said Lady Sarratt, persisting with a very mischievous air.
Absalom was saved the trouble of fencing with her curiosity by the entrance of Miss Cantelune from the Tower room. She went to the table; and he rose and poured her out some lemonade.
"Winning, Cissie?" said Lady Sarratt. "No, I'm well out. Barbara is still carrying everything before her. She has won every rubber she's played in this evening, again," said Miss Cantelune.
"It's Miss Lessing's lucky day," said Absalom.
"You have done rather badly down here, haven't you? And you're going to-morrow—early, aren't you?" said Lady Sarratt.
"Yes; directly after breakfast," said Miss Cantelune.
"Then you won't have any chance of getting square here," said Lady Sarratt in a tone of sympathy.
"Oh, that doesn't matter. I shall win at the Basinghalls. But it is annoying that I'm going without having seen the Gillingham rubies," said Miss Cantelune.
"Oh, yes. The Marquess promised to show them to us this evening. I suppose, he forgot all about it," said Lady Sarratt.
"Oh, no, he didn't forget," said Miss Cantelune. "But when he went to got them out of his safe, just before dinner, he found that something hail gone wrong with the lock and he couldn't open it."
"The deuce he couldn't," cried Absalom, startled indeed.
"And I shan't see them at all," said Miss Cantelune in a vexed tone.
"Well, next time you come down here you had better begin asking to see them as soon as you come, and go on asking till they are produced for your inspection," said Lady Sarratt.
"You bet I shall," said Miss Cantelune firmly.
"If they're here to see," said Absalom softly.
Miss Cantelune went buck to her bridge, and as the curtains fell behind her Absalom said, "Here's a new fact."
"It certainly looks like it. It's beginning to grow exciting," said Lady Sarratt.
"You revoked, Pinky," cried the voice of the Earl of Tilcombe from the Tower room in a tone of triumphant glee.
"Nothing of the kind!" cried Lord Fleetham.
"Oh, yes; you revoked in the second round of hearts," said the cool voice of Barbara.
There was a somewhat clamorous discussion, the clamour being raised by Lord Fleetham.
"That's the second time Pinky has revoked this evening," said Lady Sarratt. "The third time he revokes we go to bed."
"Then we shan't be long," said Absalom.
The Marquess came through the curtains with a dark frown on his face.
"It's a most extraordinary thing the way Fleetham will revoke," he said, in a tone of mingled surprise and vexation.
"There's only one cure for it," said Absalom.
"A cure for revoking? what Is it?" said the Marquess eagerly.
"Lord Fleetham must take the pledge," said Absalom with decision.
"What pledge?" said the Marquess.
"The pledge to abstain from alcoholic liquors," said Absalom firmly.
"The Gillinghams never take the pledge," said the Marquess stiffly.
"So much the worse for the Gillinghams," said Absalom with conviction, and his eyes twinkled.
"Well, something must be done, or people will refuse to play with Fleetham; and he'll drop out of decent society altogether," said Lady Sarratt gravely.
"Yes; it's growing very serious indeed," said the Marquess, and the anxious frown furrowed his brow with yet deeper furrows.
"Well, the pledge is the only cure," said Absalom, with unabated firmness.
"It's—er—er—so drastic," said the Marquess, weakening. "And besides, there would be considerable difficulties in the way of inducing Fleetham to take it."
"Much may he done by kindness," said Absalom in a soothing tone.
"Not with Fleetham," said the Marquess in a somewhat hopeless tone.
They were all three silent, considering this painful social problem. Absalom broke the silence, saying "What's this I hear from Miss Cantelune about the lock of the safe in which you keep the Gillingham rubies having gone wrong, Lord Gillingham?"
"It's either the lock or the keys; and I can't see anything wrong with the keys. Besides, they haven't been out of my pocket all day," said the Marquess.
"But locks don't go wrong of themselves," said Absalom. "Some one must have made it go wrong—some one has been tampering with it."
"No one has had the chance. I have been in and out of the Blue Room constantly during the day. There has been no time for anyone to have tampered with the safe. No; I think that I injured the lock, myself.
"When I went to make sure that the rubies were safe—just before lunch—I banged the door of the safe too hard. I was in a hurry. The bang has jarred the delicate mechanism of the lock."
"Impossible," said Absalom, "No banging would injure the lock of a safe. The mechanism may he delicate, but it's strong. I'll tell you what has happened; Kitty Meredith has been at work."
"IMPOSSIBLE," said the Marquess confidently. "The rubies were in the safe at half-past one. How could this Kitty Meredith have got at them between half-past one and half-past seven, when I discovered that the lock of the safe would not open? She never got a chance. The rubies are still in the safe."
"Are you sure that they were in the safe at half-past one?" said Absalom.
"Quite," said the Marquess. "I opened the cases and saw them."
Absalom walked up and down the room twice, his brow puckered in frowning thought. He could not bring himself to accept the Marquess' explanation of his being unable to open the safe. Locks do not go wrong of themselves.
"And the keys have been in your pocket the whole time?" he said to the Marquess.
"The whole time," said the Marquess.
"Wait a minute!" said Absalom with sudden excitement, as a thought flashed into his mind. "Were the keys in your pocket when you went to sleep after lunch?"
"Of course," said the Marquess impatiently. "I tell you that the keys have never left my pocket—except, of course, when I changed them from one pocket to the other before dinner."
Absalom banged his fist against his thigh: "I was the blindest kind or idiot!" he cried. "The whole thing is as plain as a pikestaff! When Forbes left me in the garden talking to the gardener after lunch, he went back to the drawing-room, took those keys out of your pocket. Lord Gillingham, and put others in their place. The lock is all right. It's the keys that are all wrong."
"That's impossible!" said the Marquess. "He couldn't have taken the keys out of my pocket without awaking me. I'm a very light sleeper."
"You were drugged," said Absalom.
"No," said the Marquess.
"You not only went to sleep after lunch, but you were desperately sleepy. Are you desperately sleepy after lunch as a rule?" said Absalom.
"No; I'm very rarely sleepy after lunch," said the Marquess.
"Well, there you are," said Absalom with triumphant conviction.
"But we all went to sleep after lunch," said Lady Sarratt quickly. "It the Marquess was drugged, we were all drugged."
"Yes, you were—all of you were drugged except Forbes and myself, and I did not drink any coffee. It was the coffee that was drugged," said Absalom confidently, as the trick grew plainer and plainer to him.
"Mine was a perfectly natural sleep—I'm sure that I awoke with my head perfectly, clear," said the Marquess.
"So did I," said Lady Sarratt.
"You would—if Kitty Meredith provided the drug," said Absalom drily. "She looks after details like that. Her work is always finished off."
"But she couldn't drug all of us—a whole house party. It's preposterous," cried Lady Sarratt.
"Absolutely preposterous!" cried the Marquess.
"She not only could; but she did. And what's more, it's just the kind of tiling she would do, and thoroughly enjoy doing it. She has a morbid sense of humour."
"It's incredible," said the Marquess.
"And that was doubtless why she did it," said Absalom. "One doesn't think of the incredible, therefore, it is the last thing detected, the safest thing to do. But for the mere chance of Miss Cantelune begging the Marquess to show her the rubies, we should never have known that the safe wouldn't open—never have dreamt that the thieves had the key. But this does change things. I've got to think out where we stand."
He dropped into a chair beside the windows, and lay back in it with muscles relaxed and a smooth brow; he never tied himself into a knot in the belief that the strained position made his ideas flow more freely.
Lord Fleetham called with his usual fiery impatience from the inner room that the table was up, and they had better come and cut in, if they wanted to play. Absalom bade the Marquess and Lady Sarratt leave him out of this rubber, for he wanted to give his careful consideration to this new factor in the affair.
The Marquess offered, with no great eagerness, to stay out of the game also, and help him work the problem out. Absalom perceived how valuable that help would be; and he looked at him a little earnestly. But he said quite gently, "I always think it better for two people to think out a matter separately, and when they have thought it out, each for himself, then to come together and discuss it. Each throws a different light on it that way."
"Yes! I believe you are right in that," said the Marquess readily, and with evident relief. "I will think it out while I'm dummy. Between us we certainly ought—er—er—to get the better of this—er—er—ingenious young woman."
"We ought indeed," said Absalom. He perceived clearly that the Marquess was at the moment far more desirous of getting his game of auction than of devoting those powers of mind to which doubtless he had once owed his position in the Cabinet, to preserving the rubies; and he was more than relieved to be spared his assistance.
But Absalom was not destined to get the chance of devoting his own mind to this sudden pressing development of the affair, for Barbara came through the curtains, and with a faint air of weariness sat down in the easy chair from which Lady Sarratt had just risen. The brilliant air which she had worn at dinner had passed from her; and her pale cheeks were a little paler than usual. Absalom took it that the long day under the continuous and very, wearing strain of auction bridge had tired her-and he did not wonder at it. She did not notice him; for she sat at some distance from him; and his eyes dwelt on her beautiful face in a great content. He admired her beyond all words, and he could have sat feasting his eyes on her beauty for an hour with unflagging pleasure. But she sighed, looked round the room, and saw him. She smiled at him faintly.
"Did you win the last rubber, too?" he said.
"Yes; I won it—in spite of Pinky's revoke," she said.
"This is a beautiful place: but Pinky is rather the fly in the Gillingham ointment," said Absalom. "You must have had a good evening."
"I've had a good day—I've won nearly a hundred and sixty," said Barbara.
"Did you get it all?" said Absalom, putting a question often put to those who played games of chance for money with Lord Fleetham.
"Yes; I did not have to settle up with Pinky once," said Barbara in a tone of some satisfaction.
"Then I do congratulate you," said Absalom, smiling.
"Thank you; but I didn't particularly want to be lucky at bridge to-night," said Barbara, with a faint sigh.
"Then what did you want to be lucky at!" said Absalom, curiously.
"Oh, other things," said Barbara vaguely.
Absalom rose, came down the room, and sat down beside her.
"Look here," he said slowly. "The more I see of it the less I like you playing this game-leading this stupid life—making your money at auction. You're too good for it—just about a thousand and one times too good for it. You're just wasting a good brain and a fine spirit among this no-account crew."
"Needs must when the devil—the devil of poverty—drives," said Barbara, with a light bitterness.
"But he doesn't drive," said Absalom quickly. "Let me lend you the twenty thousand pounds I want to lend you. You can live comfortably on it in the country you're so fond of, with Sibyl, and do anything you want for her."
"I can't do that," said Barbara quickly, flushing.
"Well, let me lend you fifty thousand. You'll only use the income; and you can pay me back when you marry," said Absalom earnestly.
"Suppose I never marry," said Barbara.
"Shucks!" said Absalom, in his earnestness relapsing into the vernacular. "You're bound to marry. And what difference would it make to me if you never did marry, and never paid me back? Why-" He was interrupted by the sudden entrance of the Earl of Tilcombe from the inner room, followed by the Marquess, who was dummy that hand. They went to the table, and began to mix themselves whiskeys and sodas.
"You took it out of us that last rubber, Miss Lessing," said the Earl of Tilcombe, in a tone of deep depression. "Twenty-three pound ten's a lot of money—a lot of money."
"Not for you, Billy. It's a mere nothing," said Absalom cheerily.
"A mere nothing! I like that! Twenty-three pound ten is twenty-three pound ten," said the Earl of Tilcombe firmly.
"Not to a man with sixty thousand a year. Billy, I tell you, it's a mere nothing," said Absalom patiently.
"That's all you know about it," said the Earl of Tilcombe huffily. "I shall have to give up playing for these high stakes."
"That'll be an awful blessing." said Absalom. "It'll let me and Miss Lessing out of playing with you. It's a privilege you've got to pay for, my brave Billy," said Absalom; and he laughed unkindly.
"What have you got your knife into me about? I never saw such a chap!" said the Earl of Tilcombe, unhappily.
"Never you mind, my dauntless one," said Absalom, who could hardly say that he resented the Earl of Tilcombe's proposal to Barbara. "But I've made up my mind to teach you the privileges of your wealth and station; so try to bear up."
"Hanged if I know what you're driving at," said the Earl of Tilcombe yet more unhappily.
"Don't tease poor Billy," said Barbara. "It always hurts him so to pay."
The entry of Jenkins made a diversion. He came to Lord Fleetham and said, "If you please, my lord. Judas."
"Eh? What? Judas who?" said the Earl Tilcombe with an astonished air.
"The apostle spoon, my lord. It's in your lordship's right 'and trouser pocket," said Jenkins, with an explanatory tone.
"Go away! Don't bother! Can't you see I'm playing bridge?" said the Earl of Tilcombe fiercely.
"Yes, my lord. But we want to lock up the silver, my lord," said the imperturbable Jenkins.
The Earl of Tilcombe put his right hand in his trousers pocket, and drew out of it that admirable rarity, the thirteenth apostle spoon. He looked at it very earnestly and shook on head.
"Most extraordinary!" he said, and handed it to Jenkins.
"Thank you, my lord," said Jenkins, and went out of the room with his stately air.
"Fancy a man with that rarity in his pocket grumbling about a paltry twenty-three pounds ten," said Absalom, laughing.
"I didn't know it was in my pocket, and I don't know who put it there," said the Earl of Tilcombe, darkly; and carrying his whisky and soda, he went through the curtains with an air as stately as that of Jenkins.
"Really, Tilcombe is growing er—er—a perfect human magpie; and his mother was one the most charming women I ever met," said the Marquess frowning.
"Then he must have been a little weak about the father," said Absalom thoughtfully.
"The late Earl of Tilcombe was a very intelligent man," said the Marquess, stiffly.
"I only met him once, and he was concealed it very carefully," said Absalom.
The marquess frowned and said in a tone of the most dignified disapproval: "I fear, Gomme, that the—er—er—faculty of reverence is not developed in you to—er—er—its full extent."
"Maybe—maybe!" said Absalom, tranquilly.
The fierce cry of Lord Fleetham summoned the Marquess back to the bridge table.
"I never knew such a house for being interrupted in," said Absalom, "No sooner does one start an important piece of business than someone butts in. Now; are you going to let me lend you that fifty thousand pounds?"
"No—no—I can't," said Barbara, in a tone of distress.
"But why not? You let your dressmaker lend you money, and I'm your friend," said the persistent Absalom.
"That's just why I won't borrow money from you," said Barbara quickly.
Absalom lay back with knitted brow, gazing at her very thoughtfully. She felt herself flushing under his, steady eyes, and she was angry with herself for the weakness. Then he bent forward and said in tones grown suddenly eager:
"I tell you what. There's another way out of it—will, you marry me?"
"No, I can't!" said Barbara quickly, and the flush, deepened.
"Why not?" said Absalom, and his eager eyes were very hard to meet.
"Oh—oh! I can't bear red hair! You c-c-can't think how I can't bear it!" stammered Barbara.
"But mine's such a good red," said Absalom.
"Yes—yes: but I can't bear it," said Barbara, more firmly.
"Well, I'll dye it!" said Absalom, with a heroic air.
"I—I'd rather it were red than blue," said Barbara.
"Oh, do be serious! This isn't any joking matter for me, little girl," said Absalom, earnestly.
"That's just it—getting married is so awfully serious," said Barbara.
"Then get it over and done with," said Absalom, cheerfully; and then he added very gravely. "I promise you, you shan't regret it. I wouldn't ask you if I didn't know you liked me a great good deal."
"Yes, I do. You are our best friend," said Barbara, earnestly. "But suppose—when we wore married—you took it into your head that I'd married you for your money-just to get rid of anxiety and this tiresome life—just to make Sibyl safe?"
"There's no fear of that; I'm far too conceited. Besides, you're not the kind of girl to marry anyone just for their money," said Absalom with utter conviction.
"I don't think I am," said Barbara quietly.
"I'm sure you're not. It's a thing you could have done heaps of times if you'd wanted to," said Absalom with the same conviction. "So say 'Yes.'"
Barbara rose hastily, and said quickly: "I can't—not to-night—I—I can't say anything to-night. My mind isn't made up."
Absalom rose too, and his eyes were still very hard to meet.
"When will you say 'yes'?" he said.
"Perhaps never," said Barbara, slowly. "It all depends. But I won't say anything for a week, at any rate—by a week from to-day I shall see my way clearly."
"And then you'll say 'Yes'?" said Absalom.
"Perhaps—I don't know—I'm not sure. But for a week I say nothing—I can't!" she said, and she took a step towards the door.
"Well, I'll wait. But it will be a very long time," said Absalom with a sigh, and he opened the door for her.
"And don't be hopeful—anything may happen in a week," she said earnestly.
"I shall hope everything," said Absalom, firmly. He looked back at the half-drawn curtain, and saw that it screened them from the bridge-players. He caught her hand; bent down, and kissed it.
"Good-night, dear!" he said.
"Good-night!" she said in a troubled voice, drew her trembling hand from his, and went quickly, out of the room.
ABSALOM closed the door behind Barbara, and stood staring at it in a blank surprise. He had known ever since his first meeting with her that she was the one woman in the world for him; but he had been very firm with himself about the matter. He was a quiet, simple soul, for all his intelligence; and he had the humility of the simple. He had accounted so brilliant and ravishing a creature with all her gift's of birth and beauty and friends, far above his redheaded self, garnished though that red-headed self was with all his father's millions. He had been content, or, rather, had tried to be content, to be her friend. Assuredly he had never looked for more. Then, seeing Barbara lying back in that easy chair, weary, with her troubles heavy on her, the sudden, intense realisation that had come upon him that for all her bright brilliance they were after all but man and woman, that externals were the merest trifles, but their intimate personalities alone counted. In that sudden conviction he had asked her to marry him, and the conviction had been so intense that he had not been surprised that she had not at once and firmly refused. The surprise came now. Up to the moment he had spoken, he had never dreamed that, there was a chance that Barbara could love him; now he felt to his very marrow that she could love him, and she should. He stumbled across the room and out into the garden in a tumult of joy and triumph, his mind whirling, in an amazed confusion. He crossed the lawn, and went through the dark shrubbery of deodoras into the thicket of larches. His mind was so full of the wonderful thing that had happened to him, so busy trying to grasp it in some of its fullness, as he came through the shrubbery and the thicket along the path to the bridge above the weir, that he did not hear the loud voices till he was right at the end of the path, in full view of the bridge. Then he awoke suddenly to the fact that he was in the world; and the world was at the moment a very noisy place.
Three figures now, stood on the bridge where two had stood before. But it by no means seemed to be a case of two being company and three none; it seemed far more a case of two being company and three too much; for the third figure was Jenkins, and Jenkins was vociferous in a fury.
Absalom was not more than fifteen yards from them; and he had a perfect view of the scene. Jenkins stood at the end of the bridge nearest to him, with his back towards him. In the middle of the bridge stood M. Leroux, in a fine attitude of severe and scornful dignity, his arms folded, his head thrown back. His nostrils were dilated, and a dark frown wrinkled his brow. In the middle of the bridge stood Josephine, leaning back against the rail; and she was smiling a mocking and mischievous smile at the raging Jenkins.
"You've been humbugging me! The pair of you!" he roared. "I guessed it days ago! All them talks you was always, having together! Do you think I didn't take no heed of them? I can tell you that Thomas Jenkins has his head as tightly screwed on his shoulders as most men!"
"The poor, big Thomas!" said Josephine, in a mocking tone, "And when it come to that lesson in coffee-making in the droring-room after lunch, I says to myself, 'Thomas, my boy, you must keep your eyes open.'"
"Such big, bright eyes, the poor, big Thomas," Josephine interjected; and at the word "coffee-making" Absalom had pricked up his ears. "I knew well enough it was Just a paltry excuse—coffee-making! G—r—r—r—r!" howled the foaming Jenkins, "I'm not the fool you, took me for! I kept my eyes open; and what did I see when I come down the path?"
"Nothing that concerned you, gross pig!" snapped, M. Leroux.
Jenkins gasped. "'Ere! What's that? Say it again!" he said.
"Gross pig!" said M. Leroux, obliging him at once.
"'E—'e's callin' me names now," said Jenkins in a hopeless voice; and he rolled his eyes appealingly round the unresponsive heavens.
M. Leroux twirled his moustache fiercely. "I have said 'Gross pig' and I have meant it. It is true that I might refuse to cross swords with a footman. I waive it. You need a lesson, gross pig. Ma foi! I will give it," he said with his splendid air.
Josephine clapped her hands and cried, "You will truly fight him, Adolphe? With swords? In the duel regular—with witnesses? But it is delicious!"
Absalom saw her joyful eyes flash and dance in the moonlight.
"Swords? Duel?" cried Jenkins in a suddenly shaky voice.
"But truly. You have, crossed, my path-the path of Adolphe Leroux. You need a lesson, and I—I shall be charmed to give a gross-islander a lesson. I will bath you in your blood—the blood of your heart," said M. Leroux with cold ferocity.
"But it will be magnificent. Adolphe!" cried Josephine. "And if either of you is killed, I shall wear mourning. I could do no less."
"I'm an Englishman, I am!" cried Jenkins. "I uses nature's weapons, I do. We'll settle this as man to man!"
So saying he advanced on M. Leroux, darting to and fro two large fists, each more like a small leg of mutton than the human hand. Absalom stepped forward to interfere, thinking that M. Leroux's slim five feet four was no match for the thick six feet two of Jenkins'; but he need not have been at the pains. M. Leroux laughed a sudden, sardonic laugh, whipped out a small revolver, and pointed it at the middle of the advancing bulk.
"I leave Nature's weapons to women." he said. "I am of the twentieth century, I am."
Jenkins stopped short—very short; and Absalom heard his gasp.
Then he began to back quickly, crying "Here! Look out! You forriners ain't to be trusted with firearms! It'll go off!"
"Yes; it will go off, Moostare Jenkins; if you come near," said M. Leroux. "You do not fight like a butcher with Adolphe Leroux. No!"
And he lowered the pistol.
"You call yourself a man, and you're afraid to stand up to me with Nature's weapons?" said Jenkins, bitterly. "Oh, you forriners!"
"You'll find me quite enough of a man when we face one another with swords on one of these nice smooth lawns; more than enough of a man," said M. Leroux in a terrible sneering voice.
Jenkins glared at him. "I'm an Englishman! I don't fight no duels!" he cried furiously. "I wash my 'ands of you—of both of you—of you and that little-"
"Be careful!" cried M. Leroux in a terrible voice; and he raised the revolver again. Jenkins backed swiftly off the bridge down into the larch thicket.
"The poor, big Thomas!" cried the mocking Josephine.
Jenkins turned on his heels and came quickly down the path. He failed in his fury to see Absalom, who had stepped aside into the deep shadow to spare him the knowledge that there had been a witness of his discomfiture. Ten yards down the path, with a thick growth of larches between him and the revolver, Jenkins cried in a terrible voice, "Dirty forriners!"
The mocking laugh of Josephine came ringing very clearly through the trees.
Absalom came quickly after Jenkins, but noiselessly. In spite of his bulk he could walk nearly so softly as a cat. He was careful not to overtake him; and he only called to him when they reached the lawn.
Jenkins stopped short; and Absalom came up to him and said, "Were you in the drawing-room when Leroux made the coffee after lunch?"
"Yes, sir," said Jenkins.
"Who else was there?" said Absalom.
"That little—that little—Miss Lessing's maid, sir. He was giving her a lesson," said Jenkins, somewhat thickly.
"Thank you," said Absalom in a careless tone; but he went into the Blue Room with a smile of triumph on his face. He knew who had drugged the coffee and who was Kitty Meredith's confederate inside the Castle.
BARBARA went slowly up the stairs with a troubled face, in a considerable confusion of emotion. Had anyone that day, or even that evening up to a quarter of an hour ago, suggested that she should marry Absalom, she would have laughed at the suggestion; it would have seemed grotesque to her. She had liked him very much; she had even been fond of him as a friend. But she had always felt herself, with the true feminine lack of reason, superior to him; she had been inclined to patronise him. Assuredly her feeling for him had never gone deeper than friendship, and she had never suspected him of any deeper feeling for her.
And now, with amazing suddenness, everything had changed. She was conscious of a change in herself, a change brought about by a change in him. He had changed, to her eyes, at any rate, from the quite harmless, amusing, kindly, but cranky Absalom to someone mysterious, somewhat formidable, somewhat fascinating. Something arresting, compelling, disturbing in his eyes and his tones, had troubled the very depths of her being. She had fallen, suddenly and unawares, under the spoil of his personality.
She sank down into a chair, and sat very still for a long while, staring at the hand he had kissed, seeing now and again very clearly his masterful eyes, in a frowning wonder. She asked herself why she had hesitated when he asked her to marry him. She had never hesitated over the proposal of any other man. She had known her mind on the instant. She had known it before she spoke. Why had she not known it this time? Could she be in love with Absalom? It was very odd. At last she shook herself a little impatiently, and rose. She had no more time for the consideration of matters of sentiment. The Gillingham rubies claimed her attention. She rang the bell. One of the Castle maids answered it, and told her that Josephine was out in the gardens. She bade her send Josephine to her as soon as she came in.
Absalom came into the Blue Room, and sat down in the easy chair near the long windows to consider the new piece of information which the mere chance of overhearing a quarrel between two jealous swains had given him. The presence of Josephine at the coffee-making in the drawing-room that afternoon made her a very likely person indeed to have drugged the coffee. At any rate, it lay between her and Leroux, and it seemed far more probable to Absalom that she had hocussed the house-party. From what he had seen of Leroux, and his attitude to his art and Jenkins, he did not seem to him a man who would stoop to act as Kitty Meredith's confederate. The chef seemed built on too romantic lines to steal rubies. He must certainly warn Barbara about her maid, though it was likely that there would be no need. He would surely catch the girl admitting Jasper Forbes, either alone or with some other confederate of Kitty Meredith.
He was sorry that it should be Josephine. He had liked the girl, not only because she had a pretty face, but also because he knew that Barbara was fond of her, and that she was devoted to Barbara. Well, perhaps he might get a chance of giving Josephine a fright that would shock her into the straight and narrow path of respectability.
He was disturbed by a sudden clamour from the bridge players, cries that Lord Fleetham had revoked, loud protestations from Lord Fleetham that he had done nothing of the kind. But the tricks were searched, and his guilt brought home to him. Then he was loud in his protestations that it was entirely owing to the fact that they wore playing in the Tower Room and not in the drawing room. There was peace, comparative peace, as they added up the score. Then Lady Sarratt said:
"Eight hundred and seventy-two. That's Pinky's third revoke, and we'll all go to bed."
There was the clink of coins as they paid the stakes, and then they came trooping into the Blue Room.
"It's extraordinary! Incredible!" cried the fuming Marquess. "Whenever I play with you, Fleetham, you revoke."
"It's that poky little hole!" cried Lord Fleetham fiercely.
"But you revoke everywhere—everywhere!" cried his angry sire.
"It must be a tic," interposed the irreverent Absalom.
"The Gillinghams do not suffer from tics," said the Marquess with icy fury.
"My mistake," said Absalom cheerfully.
Lady Sarratt and Miss Cantelune bade them good-night and went off to bed. The men gathered round the table, and mixed themselves final drinks.
"Hang it all!" cried Lord Fleetham with a suddenly inspired air. "That leaves four of us. Lot's have another rubber."
"Not for me, thank you. I have played enough to-day," said Absalom. He was feeling eager to get the ground cleared for action.
"You'd only revoke again," said the Marquess sourly.
"That's it, rub it in," said Lord Fleetham bitterly.
They drank their drinks in a somewhat painful silence, depressed by the sorrow of the afflicted peer. Then the Earl of Tilcombe and Lord Fleetham went off to bed, Lord Fleetham bitterly aggrieved, grumbling at his luck, his cards, hiss partners, and the place he had played in.
The Marquess rang the bell and Jenkins came quickly, closed and fastened the windows in the Tower Room and the Blue Room, and drew the curtains. Absalom slowly poured himself out a glass of Apollinaris, and the Marquess watched him a little impatiently. Jenkins performed his task and went.
"You can find your way to your room, Mr. Gomme?" said the Marquess.
"Yes, thank you," said Absalom. "But I'm I not going to it—not to stay. I propose to keep watch here for an hour or two—till dawn, in fact."
"Do you think it's necessary?" said the Marquess awaking to a sudden uneasiness. "'Do you think that the burglars will make their attempt to-night?"
"I should say that it was a practical certainty," said Absalom, with slow conviction. "If they have the keys of the safe, they'll act at once to give you as little time as possible to let you discover the loss of them. When I came down this morning I expected to have two or three days to look about me. I'm sure now that I have nothing of the kind. But there's one thing I should like to be quite sure about, and that is whether they have really got the keys or have merely been tampering with the lock of the safe. If that's what they have been doing, it must be easy to detect. They are bound to have scratched the keyhole. Now would you mind taking a look at the keyhole while I go up to my room and put on a warm dressing-gown? I shall have to keep very still, and the hours before dawn are chilly."
"But won't you come and examine the key-hole of the safe yourself? You must have much better eye for that kind of thing than I have. You've probably had experience of locks that have been tampered with, and I have had none," said the Marquess, quickly.
"I shall be charmed," said Absalom. "I didn't care to suggest it myself, for I thought you might wish to preserve the secrets of the room."
"I don't think it is much of a secret to you—or, for that matter, to several other people," said the Marquess gloomily. He locked the door, went to the left-hand corner of the room, and pressed the spring in the panel. It opened with a grating sound that showed Absalom that its machinery was either worn or unoiled. The Marquess stepped through the narrow opening into the secret robin, and Absalom followed him.
The Marquess switched on the electric lamp, and Absalom glanced round the little chamber. He had expected to find its walls bare, unsmoothed stone, but it was lined with the same panels of cedar as the Blue Room.
He took out his magnifying glass, and examined the keyhole of the safe carefully. There was not a scratch about it. He had not expected to find one.
"That settles that. They have got the keys," he said, confidently. They came out of the secret room; the Marquess closed the panel and turned to Absalom.
"I had better get a couple of men to keep watch with us—Jenkins and my own man—Jenkins is a big fellow," he said.
"Not on any account!" cried Absalom. "I'm pretty sure—In fact, I'm quite certain—that Kitty Meredith has a confederate in the house; and it would be quite impossible to get your two men into this room without that confederate knowing it. Well, you may be sure that that confederate is to signal that the coast is clear, or, at any rate, to signal if it is not clear. And if she, or he, signals that the coast is not clear they will not make the attempt to-night; and take it that we want, to catch them and have done with it."
"Yes, yes; that's what we want," said the Marquess, briskly, "You and I between us ought to be able to give a good account of them."
This was not at all what Absalom wanted. He had made up his mind that Jasper Forbes was coming back for the rubies, that he had left the Castle and gone to Claybury in order to be able to return for them without suspicion; and he was eager Indeed to have the explorer to himself when he did return. Not to put too fine a point on it, he was burning to have him to himself. The kiss he had snatched from Barbara had made him angry at the time with an anger somewhat impersonal; now that there was a very good chance that Barbara would he his, the kiss was rankling bitterly. He was suffering from the furious indignation of the outraged proprietor; and he was bent on hammering Jasper Forbes till that indignation was soothed. The attempt on the rubies would give him a perfect pretext for the fight for which he was spoiling.
"No; I would rather handle the business alone," he said firmly. "I take it that you want to preserve the rubies, that you want to stop any more attempts on them from this quarter, but you don't want a scandal and a fuss, especially a newspaper fuss, about the matter."
"Heavens no!" cried the Marquess with lively decision.
"Well, I'll undertake to preserve the rubies; and I'll handle the thieves all right. The fewer people in it the less chance of a fuss. Besides, it's much easier for me to slip down here without the confederate learning it, than for the two of us to do so. You may be sure that the confederate is keeping a lookout for us to go to bed. And we have got to seem to go to bed."
The Marquess looked disposed to protest; then ho said, "Very good; I'll leave the affair in your hands. Have you got a revolver?"
"No," said Absalom.
"Let me get you one."
"No, thanks; I shan't need one. I can deal with these amateurs without weapons," said Absalom, whose only thought was to got his grip on Jasper Forbes.
"Very good; you know best; and, of course. If it came to using a revolver there would be no keeping matters out of the papers. But I shan't go to bed. I shall be waiting up to come to your aid, if you should need me," said the Marquess.
"Thank you, but I'm hoping that I shan't," said Absalom. "But, anyhow, you won't have to wait up so very long. The dawn will be here in a couple of hours, and they'll do nothing after that. And now I think we might go upstairs together, talking, for the benefit of the confederates on the watch."
They went upstairs, talking about the Gillingham shooting. At the door of Absalom's bedroom they paused, still talking, while Absalom slipped into it, caught up his dressing-gown, and slipped out again. They talked for two or three minutes longer. Then the Marquess went along the corridor, Absalom said "Good-night," shut his bedroom door firmly, and ran swiftly and lightly back down the stairs to the Blue Room.
As Absalom's door closed, Josephine softly closed the door of Barbara's bedroom, which she had opened half an inch, that she might hear the sounds in the house, and turned to her mistress, with a mischievous smile. Barbara lay on the sofa, reading a novel. She looked up at her smiling maid, and said rather wistfully, "How you do enjoy it, Josephine! I wish I found it such fun."
"But yes, mademoiselle. I enjoy it. It excites me," said Josephine, and her smile grew brighter.
"Oh, I find it exciting enough," said Barbara. "But all the while I know that its wrong; and I can't forget it. It spoils the excitement."
Josephine's face grew a little grave, and she said, "Then let me go and take the rubies to Monsieur Forbes; mademoiselle. You go to bed. I shall not fail. It is easy—oh, but easy."
"No, I can't let you do that," said Barbara slowly.
"But why not, mademoiselle? It is so easy," said Josephine eagerly.
"No; it's here that the real danger comes in; and it's for me to take the risk," said Barbara firmly.
"But I—I am not afraid! I should love it," said Josephine. "I do not reel It wrong—not at all—no. What is it to rob a man—a miserable man? It is nothing—but nothing at all."
"You are a misanthrope, Josephine," said Barbara, smiling.
"And with a reason!" said Josephine quickly. "And this is a marquess, an aristocrat, a miserable aristocrat."
"But the rubies I take myself," said Barbara in a tone of finality. "We must give them an hour. You lie down for half-an-hour; and when I'm ready to begin putting on the disguise, I'll wake you."
Josephine heaved a faint sigh of disappointment, but obediently she went to a big armchair, settled herself in it, or rather curled herself up in it, and in less than five minutes was sleeping the sleep of profound innocence.
Barbara read on at her novel with a quiet and unflagging attention which showed an uncommonly well-balanced temperament. The book might have been the only thing in the world of any interest to her. She might have had nothing more important before her than a quiet night's rest. Her peaceful absorption in it was also very creditable to the book, which dealt with the exploits of a young gentleman at loggerheads with Fortune, who increased his income very much in the same fashion as she increased hers, but with less skill.
Two or three times she glanced up from it at the clock; and at the expiration of half-an-hour she laid aside her novel, slipped off the sofa, and awoke Josephine. Josephine awoke quite awake, took her mistress's keys from the toilet table, and opened a small trunk. From it she took one of those flat Japanned tin cases in which actors keep their make-up, opened it and set it on the toilet table. Then she took a wig box from the trunk, and from it she drew a red wig and set it on a side table. Then she took from the trunk a tight-fitting tailor-made dress, with a short skirt, and of a greyish drab, admirably adapted to blend with the shades of night, and permit its wearer to got lost among them with the least possible delay, shook it out, and began to brush it. Barbara sat down before the mirror, took a fine brush and a little tube of a very bright green from the tin case, and with infinite care began to paint her eyelashes. When Josephine had finished brushing out the tailor-made dress, she took from the trunk a small cap of the same cloth and a thick brown veil. Then she turned her attention to the red wig. Presently Barbara turned and looked at her with green eyes.
"Are they all right?" she said.
"But perfect, mademoiselle," said Josephine. "Mees Kitty Meredith herself—there is ne recognising Mees Lessing at all—even already."
"I thought they looked all right," said Barbara in a tone of satisfaction; and she turned again to the mirror. She took a hare's foot, and began to lay Kitty Meredith's high colour on her pale cheeks. She was not long about it; then she said, "And now the wig."
Josephine brought the wig and set it on her head. They arranged it carefully and fixed it on so firmly with hairpins that Barbara had the fullest freedom of action. The effect of it and the green eyes was most interesting. Not a feature of Barbara had changed, of course, but her face had lost its distinction. She had become a girl of another type, a lower type, a girl who, if she wore not already an adventuress, could become an adventuress with the greatest ease and propriety.
Then Barbara took off her peignoir; and Josephine slipped the drab-grey dress on over her head and fastened it up. She put on the little cloth cap and fixed it with a couple of hat-pins, and tied on the veil very firmly. Then she clapped her hands, and said, "Mademoiselle gets better every time."
"Or worse," said Barbara somewhat ruefully. "If I had to go on dressing the part many more times, and playing it, I'm sure I should got to feeling myself a real Kitty Meredith. I wonder if I should mind."
"But no, mademoiselle," said Josephine, with conviction. "Men run after Mees Kitty Meredith just as they run after Mees Leasing—different men and the same."
"You attach a good deal of importance to men running after one for a misanthrope," said Barbara, smiling.
"Oh, but it is right that they run after one. It is their business. And it amuses. They are such imbeciles," said Josephine.
"I see. And now I think that you had better be off to your own room," said Barbara. "If anything went wrong and you were found waiting in my room for me to return, you would naturally be accused of being my confederate, for it would make it clear that you know of my disguise."
"It anything went wrong with you, mademoiselle, I shouldn't care about myself, no, not a bit," said Josephine quickly.
"You're a faithful soul, Josephine; but that would be merely foolish. It would be enough and to spare if I got into a mess. Give me the revolver; and off you go," said Barbara in the tone of one who meant to be obeyed.
From the bottom of the trunk Josephine took a small revolver and handed it to her. She slipped it into a pocket on her right hip. It was a curious pocket to find on a woman's dress—a useful pocket. It had been made by Josephine to carry the revolver. The revolver did not show so much intelligence as the pocket. The former was of far too light a calibre to stop the rush of a determined man, unless the bullet struck him in some vital part.
Josephine went to the door, and paused. "I will not wish you good fortune, mademoiselle," she said. "One should not wish anyone good fortune in love, cards, or the chase; and you hunt rubies."
"There is no need. I know what you wish me," said Barbara, smiling at her. Josephine closed the door and stole softly down the corridor. But she did not go to her room. She went noiselessly up to the next floor and established herself at the window of the landing, where she could not only look down on to the lawn on which the windows of the Blue Room opened, but also hear any movement in the house.
Barbara looked at the clock. It still wanted ten minutes to the hour she had allowed for the guests or the Marquess to fall soundly asleep. She took up her novel, stretched herself comfortably on the sofa, and went on quietly with her reading.
IN THE MEANTIME Absalom was keeping his patient watch in the Tower Room. From the side window of it he could see over the parapet of the terrace, from which the ground fell sheer along the side of the tower to the lower level fifty feet beneath. He had a fair view of the lawn right to the entrance of the path through the deodora shrubbery, down which he expected Jasper Forbes to come. He had taken off his coat and put on the dressing-gown, and was quite warm, for the night was still hot. He drew the curtain but a little way aside so that as long as he was careful not to let the red end of his cigar show through the opening in it, he could smoke with out any fear of giving the explorer warning that he was on the watch.
He had not been sitting there more than ten minutes when he heard the door of the Blue Room open softly. He was surprised indeed. He had been sure that the thieves would not move till they had good reason to believe that everyone in the castle was sleeping soundly. He rose, slipped off his dressing-gown, kicked off his pumps, and stole to the curtain between the two rooms. It must be the confederate inside the castle—Josephine. He had no intention of interfering with her unless she went into the secret room herself to get the rubies. He was waiting for Jasper Forbes, and he would do nothing to prevent his coming. She had only come probably to unfasten the windows for the explorer's entrance. But he must be sure that that was all she did.
He drew the curtain apart very gently an inch or two. To his amazement the electric light was switched on, and the room was in a bright light. He pressed the curtain outwards with his head so that he could see the whole room. By the table stood Lord Fleetham pouring whisky from a decanter into a tumbler. Absalom murmured a word or two, quite uncomplimentary to the heir of all the Gillinghams, under his breath. He had the pleasure of seeing him add soda to his whisky and drink it in a very leisurely fashion. Then Lord Fleetham compared the two decanters of whisky very carefully, took the fullest, along with a syphon of soda water, and went towards the door. He switched off the electric light and went out of the room.
As he passed out of the door Absalom shook an itching fist at his unconscious back. Then he went back to his watch in the window seat, slipped on his dressing-gown and pumps, lighted another cigar, and sat down again. He opened the window, though he thought it very unlikely indeed that he would hear the footfall of Jasper Forbes before he saw him. He was eager but not at all impatient. He abandoned himself to dreams of Barbara, and found it a delightful way of passing the hours of his watch.
For a long while nothing happened. Now and again he interrupted his dreams to look at his watch, it was nearly one o'clock when his quick ear caught the faint faraway hum. Faint as it was, he recognised it on the instant. It was the hum of a motor car. His pulse quickened. Things were going to happen. He slipped his arms out of his dressing-gown, but let it hang on his shoulders. The hum grow louder and louder; then suddenly it grow softer. Absalom perceived that the driver had slowed down to make less noise as he drew near the castle. Absalom knew for certain that it was Forbes. He stiffened in his, seat, as unconsciously as his muscles went taut. Suddenly the hum of the car ceased altogether, not very far from the castle; but Absalom fancied that he could still hear the faint throbbing of the engine. Jasper Forbes had left his car by the little gate into the park, and was coming for the Gillingham rubies!
THE moon was sinking behind the Castle, and the shadow of the central buildings fell half across the lawn. But the entrance to the path through the deodora shrubbery was still in the full moonlight. Absalom sat with his eyes, fixed on it, staring into the darkness of the path to catch the first glimpse of the approaching explorer, his every other faculty dulled by his intense concentration in the act of vision.
That concentration accounted probably for his utter failure to hear the gentle opening of the door of the Blue Room, the faint footfall of the figure that crossed it, the almost noiseless opening of the long windows. Twice or thrice his eyes had tricked him into seeing a dark figure stealing down the shadowed path; and he was still straining his eyes into its gloom, when his heart leapt to his mouth at the sound of the grating of the machinery which moved the panel entrance to the secret room.
He sprang to his feet, rushed lightly to the curtains between the two rooms, and dashed through them. As he came into it ho saw that the long windows stood open; and it flashed on him that Jasper Forbes had stolen up along the side of the castle in the shadow; and as it flashed on him he dashed at the figure in the dark corner, all his being strung up to the effort to get the maiming ju-jitsu grip he had in mind on the explorer.
There was a flash and loud report in his very face. A stinging pain shot through his left arm. Without weakening his intense resolve to got the grip, it confused him. He grappled with the figure without perceiving that it was a woman; it tottered under his furious rush; he got the grip; and, as he wrenched, a dreadful, piercing scream rang through and through his ears.
"Heavens! It's a woman!" he cried, and they both came to the ground together. On the instant he was on his feet, holding her In his arms, a dead, inert weight. He carried her to the sofa, laid her on it, and switched on the electric light. He saw her red hair, and cried, "Kitty Meredith herself, by all that's holy!" There was little triumph in his tone; he knew too well the effect of the grip and the wrench. He bent down over her, and then he saw that her hair was half-red, half-brown. The wig had been twisted aside in the fall. His heart stood still. He bent lower, and said in a hushed voice, "Good heavens, it's Barbara! Oh, what a shocking mess!"
The words were hardly out of his mouth when the handle of the door was turned; the door was shaken, and the voice of Josephine cried. "What is it that has happened? Mon Dieu! Open! open!"
The cry awoke him to Barbara's danger, and with clumsy fingers he began to pull at the cap and veil and wig. He tore the veil free and thrust it into his trouser pocket. The cap came away easily, and he thrust that into his other trouser pocket.
There came a loud knocking at the door, and the voice of the Marquess cried; "What is it. What has happened?"
"It's all right! There's been an accident. Wait a minute!" cried Absalom, tugging at the wig.
"An accident? Are you hurt?" cried the Marquess and there came a clamour of excited voices of people hurrying down the stairs.
"Curse these hairpins!" muttered Absalom, and then he cried louder, "I've got a bullet in my arm. It's nothing! I'll open the door."
There was a loud clamour of excited voices asking questions outside the door. Suddenly the wig came clear. Absalom looked round the room for a hiding-place. No safe one caught his eye. He dashed through the window and thrust the wig into the bottom of a thick shrub a few feet away; dashed back into the room, and shut the panel entrance of the secret room. Then he came quietly back to the sofa, bent over the unconscious Barbara, and said In a low voice in her ear.
"Say nothing, Barbara; say nothing."
Then he went to the door, unlocked it, and threw it open. The Marquess, Lady Sarratt, the Earl of Tilcombe, Josephine, and Jenkins came tumbling over one another into the room. Josephine and the Marquess were dressed. The others wore what garments they chanced to have caught up in their haste.
Josephine glanced round the room, and flow to the unconscious Barbara with a cry of: "Oh, poor mademoiselle!"
The others burst into a clamour of inquiry. When it had died down a little Absalom said:
"There's been a horrid mix-up. I was sitting at the window in the Tower Room, watching for the burglars to come across the lawn to steal the rubies, when I heard a noise in this room. I dashed into it, saw a figure dimly, and grappled with it. We struggled, and somehow my revolver went off, and hit me in the arm."
"But you hadn't got a revolver; you wouldn't let me get you one!" cried the Marquess.
"I found it in my dressing-gown pocket, I put it there this afternoon to be ready against emergencies," said Absalom firmly.
"Very clumsy—to shoot yourself. You shouldn't have these things about. It you don't know how to use them," said the Earl of Tilcombe.
"But what's happened to Barbara?" said Lady Sarratt. "Has the revolver shot her, too?"
"That's the worst of it," said Absalom in a tone of despair. "It all happened so quickly; and I was so confused by the revolver going off and the bullet in my arm that I didn't realise that it was a woman I had hold of till it was too late. I got my favourite ju-jitsu grip; and I've injured her badly."
"Good gracious!" cried the Marquess.
"That was a silly thing to go and do!" said the Earl of Tilcombe, with conviction.
"Great idiot!" cried Josephine from the sofa.
"Why, you're streaming with blood!" cried Lady Sarratt to Absalom.
Absalom gazed down at his arm. His shirtsleeve was scarlet, and the blood was pouring-off the tips of his fingers on to the floor. The sight awoke him to his own condition. He stared stupidly at the streaming blood, and then a sudden faintness came over him.
He sank into the nearest chair, murmuring, "Tie up my arm, somebody, will you? It's bleeding like anything."
"He's fainting! Give him some brandy!" cried Lady Sarratt.
The Earl of Tilcombe dashed to the table, poured some brandy into a tumbler, and hurried to Absalom with it.
"No—no alcohol," murmured Absalom, and fainted.
They fell upon him. Lady Sarratt caught his uninjured arm, and flapped his hand. The Marquess propped him up, and the Earl or Tilcombe poured brandy into his mouth and down his shirt-front—chiefly down his shirt-front. He came to, choking. Jenkins, who had attended a course of St. John Ambulance lectures, tore open the sleeve of his shirt, and bared his bleeding arm. Then he tied the handkerchief of the Marquess tightly over the wound.
Josephine glanced round at them, saw how busy they were, and ceased trying to restore Barbara to consciousness. She pulled out her handkerchief, moistened it with her tongue, and rubbed away at the line of the green paint at the bottom of her mistress's eyelashes. It was fortunate that it was water-colour. Most of it came away on the handkerchief.
In three or four minutes Absalom's arm was bound up, and the bleeding stopped. His wits cleared, and he said: "You had much better see to Miss Lessing. She's hurt much more than I am. This wound's nothing. Fetch a doctor for her."
"But what was Miss Lessing doing here, at this hour?" said the Marquess, with a puzzled air.
"She must have forgotten something—her fan—her handkerchief—and come down to get it," said Absalom in a firm but faint voice.
"No—no, it was not a fan; it was not that!" cried Josephine quickly. "She could not sleep, poor mademoiselle. I read to her, but she could not sleep. Then she said that the fresh air would make her sleep; she would walk in the park. She dressed and came downstairs to go out into the park through the window of this room. And that great red beast hurt her, poor mademoiselle!" And she began to sob.
"And she'd just opened the windows when I heard her and rushed in," said Absalom.
"I see," said the Marquess in the tone of one entirely satisfied.
Through the door came Lord Fleetham, his face set in an expression of furious anger.
"Hang it all!" he cried fiercely. "Can't one get a wink of sleep in this house? Can't you find any other time hut the middle of the night to make an internal row, firing off guns, and jabbering like monkeys?"
"Shut up, Pinky! There's been an accident," said the Earl of Tilcombe.
"An accident? And I wasn't here? Hang it all! Nobody ever tells me when anything's going on. I might be a perfect stranger in the house!" cried the injured young nobleman.
"We're wasting time—valuable time!" said Absalom. "Miss Lessing must have a doctor at once. Every minute is important."
"Of course—of course!" said the Marquess. "Jenkins, go and wake Higgins, and tell him to take the big car and bring Doctor Urquhart at once."
"Hurry him up, and make him make the doctor hurry up!" said Absalom. Jenkins hurried away to rouse the chauffeur. Absalom bade the three men carry Barbara up to her room. Then, when he realised how they would do it, he bade them rouse some more footmen, and let them carry her up sofa and all, just as she lay. She was no longer unconscious; her face was distorted with pain, and now and again she moaned. Jenkins came quickly back from rousing the chauffeur, and the Marquess sent him to rouse his fellow-footmen. He was not long about it, and four of them picked up the light Chippendale sofa and the light figure lying on it, and carried it with ease.
Absalom adjured them to be careful, and tried to walk up the stairs after them. But at the movement the faintness came on him again, and he had to sit down. He bade Josephine get off her mistress's clothes without stirring her if she possibly could—to cut them off her. Lady Sarratt said that she would help her. But she lingered behind the footmen and their burden to say:
"What is it you have done? How have you hurt her?"
"I've crippled her—possibly for life!" said Absalom, with a groan.
WHEN they had carried Barbara up to her bedroom Jenkins and one of his confrères helped Absalom up to his. Johnson helped him to undress and get into bed. His arm was very painful, for the bullet had embedded itself to the bone; and he fancied that it had splintered it a little. The pain was by no means an unrelieved misfortune. It distracted his mind somewhat from his far more painful anxiety about Barbara's injury, and from his grief that she should have been driven by her devotion to Sibyl to play the part of Kitty Meredith. He divined painfully how bitter the struggle had been before she had brought herself to play this part of a female Robin Hood in the modern world, so much better organised to resist aggression against the sanctity of property. He realised the cold courage which had been necessary to face the danger of an imprisonment, which would have rendered her useless to her sister, and the prospect of a disgrace which to her proud spirit would have been worse than death.
His heart bled for her that she had been reduced to such straits and such terrors. He could not bring himself to blame the pride which had preferred these dangers to accepting a loan from him; the pride was part of her, born in her, and strengthened by her training and surroundings.
He heard the doctor come upstairs, and go to her room; and he lay awaiting his verdict in a cold sweat of apprehension, fearing to receive the worst tidings of her condition. And his apprehension was protracted; it was nearly three-quarters of an hour before he came to his room.
Dr. Urquhart entered with a very grave face, and Absalom's heart sank. He knew well enough what Barbara's injury was, how painful and how serious; and he said miserably enough:
"How is Miss Lessing, doctor?"
Dr. Urquhart shook his head, and said, "I have reduced the dislocation, but it's a very serious injury.
"Not permanent, I hope," said Absalom, with a very dry throat.
"She'll be lucky if it isn't," said the doctor gravely. "It's too early to give a definite opinion, but the injury is serious—very serious."
Absalom groaned.
"I never see the use in a case like this of holding out false hopes," Dr. Urquhart went on. "But to-morrow the Marquess will telegraph for Sir Erasmus Bloomfield, and then we shall hear what he says. He may not agree with me."
"I hope to goodness he won't!" said Absalom fervently.
"So do I," said Dr. Urquhart without any hopefulness in his tone or face. "But now let's have a look at your arm. The chauffeur told me that it was a case of a bullet wound, fortunately, and so I have my instruments with me."
The next twenty minutes were very painful indeed to Absalom, for it was not only a case of extracting the bullet, but, as he had fancied, it had splintered the bone, and the splinters had also to be extracted. Dr. Urquhart wished to give him ether for the painful operation, but Absalom refused to have it administered. At the end of it Dr. Urquhart congratulated him on his endurance. But Absalom was in a state of parlous exhaustion.
When the doctor had gone, he lay congratulating himself that this had not happened in a middle-class household. In those circumstances the doctor would hardly have been content to treat a seriously-injured girl and a man with a bullet in his arm without calling the attention of the police to the matter, and under their questioning there was no saying, in the state of prostration to which she must have been reduced by the shock and the pain, what dangerous admissions Barbara might have let slip.
Fortunately, in Gillingham Castle they were safe from any intrusion of the inquisitive police. There was one further anxiety, however, which troubled him, and that was the matter of the red wig hidden in the bottom of the shrub. That must be recovered and hidden in a place of safety, or, better still, destroyed, before morning. If one of the gardeners found it, it would let loose a flood of surmise and suspicion, in which Barbara's name would surely come to shipwreck; he could see no chance of saving it.
At the least Lord Gillingham and Lady Sarratt could not fail to perceive that Barbara Lessing and Kitty Meredith were one and the same person; Absalom did not fear any harm from Lady Sarratt's possessing the knowledge, but he had far too poor an opinion of the intelligence of the Marquess to endure the thought of his possessing it. He was quite sure that he would contrive in some entirely idiotic fashion to make the fact common property. The right person to recover the wig was himself, and when at last the house was still, he slipped painfully out of bed, entirely careless of Dr. Urquhart's injunction that he was on no account to disturb his wounded arm. At once a deadly faintness came on him, and he slipped down into a sitting posture on the floor, with his back against the bed. His voice was so faint that he had some difficulty in awaking Johnson, who was sleeping in the dressing-room. Then, when Johnson had helped him back into bed, it was some time before he could bring his mind to a clear consideration of the problem.
He could not go and recover the wig. That was plain. He would not be strong enough for hours. It was already four o'clock. The gardeners would be at work at six. There was Lady Sarratt. He could trust her. But then there was the difficulty of getting her out of bed at such an hour, and the further difficulty of making sure that someone did not awake and see her return with the dangerous piece of evidence. Besides, it meant admitting her to Barbara's secret; and he was sure that too many people already had been admitted to the knowledge of It.
Then his wits quite cleared, and he saw that Josephine was the only person to do his errand. She knew the secret already. She must be trustworthy to be In Barbara's confidence. At any rate, she had to be trusted. The only other person was Forbes. And trustworthy as he had always found him, Absalom was not going to trust him with this secret. It must be Josephine.
He said to Johnson: "Go to Miss Lessing's room, and tell her maid I want to speak to her. Be as noiseless as you possibly can."
"Yes, sir," said Johnson, and he went. He was some time gone, and Absalom began to grow anxious. But at last he came back, and with him came Josephine.
"She didn't want to come, sir," said Johnson.
"That's all right," said Absalom. "Will you go and get me a syphon of soda water. I'm horribly thirsty."
Johnson went, and Absalom turned his head to Josephine. She was glowering at him, her pretty face contorted into a scowl of hatred. If looks could kill, Absalom felt that he had not long to live. He wasted no time on inquiries about Barbara.
"The wig—you'll find it in the bush on the left of the windows of the Blue Room," he said in French in a low voice, in case Johnson should have lingered at the keyhole to learn why he had sent for Barbara's maid. Josephine's face cleared a little, and she said, "Good. I was wondering where monsieur had hid it, and I was anxious—oh, but anxious."
"You have a clear hour to get it in—more," said Absalom.
"I shall get it, safely," said Josephine; then she paused, glowering at him again, and added, "Oh, but how I hate you monsieur, for hurting my poor mistress!"
"I expect you do," said Absalom. "But its a good job it's me you're hating. If it had been anyone else, I don't see what the deuce we could have done. At least we can save your mistress's reputation between us."
"But what good is a reputation, if one is a cripple?" said Josephine angrily.
"To Miss Lessing it's a great deal," said Absalom. "Besides, your mistress is not a cripple yet, not by any manner of means. There are a good many things to be tried before we give up hope."
Josephine slipped out of the room; and Absalom lay wondering anxiously whether she would succeed in recovering the wig without being discovered. He thought that she would. If she had drugged the coffee under Leroux's very eye without his seeing her, she would surely do this, unseen.
It was an hour later than a gentle tap came at his door. It opened, and Josephine peered in: "It is all right, you great red beast," she said.
Absalom laughed faintly. He was only grateful to the girl for the relief her words had given him; and presently he fell into a disturbed sleep.
FOR THE NEXT forty-eight hours his arm was very painful, and gave him very little rest. It prevented much constructive thought. But then his strong constitution and abstemious life set it healing, and he was little the better for the lessening of the pain to a dull ache. He was able to think clearly, and his thoughts were distressing indeed. He blamed himself heartily and continuously for the injury he had inflicted on Barbara; his heart was wrung with pity at her suffering. Moreover, he was full of fears. He dreaded that he had lost her. He knew that she had a woman's natural pride in her beauty; she would surely never forgive him for having crippled her. She must hate him; he could expect nothing else; and his heart was very heavy.
This trouble of mind made him slower recovering; in his weakness it spoiled his troubled nights. He lay awake wearily rehearsing arguments he would use to soften her. More over, he begun to receive visitors; and their visits went no way to relieve his trouble. Fleetham was the first of them. He broke fiercely through Johnson's guard, and reproached Absalom with even greater fierceness for having broken up their table at bridge after the Earl of Tilcombe had found the Castle so depressing with two invalids weighing on the spirits of everyone in it that he had betaken himself to London.
Absalom was exceedingly short with the angry young nobleman. Indeed, he curtly bade him go away. The next day he heard from Johnson that he had gone to London. That afternoon the Marquess paid him a visit he came into the room wearing the most sapient air of a statesman, a grieved and righteously indignant statesman, and at the sight of his stupid face Absalom's temper began to rise. The Marquess had felt that it behoved him to rise to the occasion, and he had thought out or, to be exact, tried to think out, what he was led to say.
He greeted Absalom very coldly and cleared his throat.
"This is—er—er—a deplorable business Mr Gomme," he began. "I find a difficulty in-er—er—finding words to express my opinion of your carelessness."
Absalom glowered at him. But he realised that he had to grin and bear it. His defence must ever remain a secret between him and Barbara. He loved the Marquess none the more for that.
"I have come to the conclusion that you came here, Mr. Gomme—er—er—on it wild goose chase—that the rubies never were in danger at all."
"Do your keys open the safe, then?" said Absalom, drily.
"I have not troubled to try them again. I have not thought it necessary," said the Marquess with an air of great dignity. "The rubies are in the safe; no one can get at them! One of these days I am going to have the safe opened and repaired-"
"One of these days? With the keys of the safe in the possession of someone whom you don't know?" said Absalom quickly.
"I have the keys. There is nothing wrong with the keys. I injured the mechanism or a lock by slamming the door of the safe; that is all. And I must point out that that is also your fault—that I should never have opened the safe at all on that occasion, and then slammed the door of it in my relief at finding the rubies in it, if you had not come to me with what I must designate as—or—er—a cock-and-bull story about this young woman, Kitty Meredith."
Absalom ground his teeth softly.
"But that is but—er—or—a small matter. Mr. Gomme, though it distresses me to have to reveal the secret of Gillingham Castle to some—er—er—probably unsympathetic mechanic from London. But the important thing is that a-er—er—charming and distinguished young lady has been injured when staying under my roof by your—er—er—criminal carelessness. Of course, you have to some degree been punished for it by the injury you have inflicted on yourself, but I cannot but feel that you have escaped lightly, and I felt bound to convey to you my extreme—er—er—disapprobation of your—er—er—stupid carelessness. If you will carry firearms about with you and acquire those dangerous Japanese accomplishments, you should—er—er—learn to use both with discretion."
"I should, but if it comes to a question of stupidity, there's not much to be said for the wisdom of keeping valuable jewels in a safe in a secret room, and then pointing out to every casual visitor where that secret room is, and where you keep the keys. In fact, you are in the first place to blame for all this disastrous business." said Absalom tartly.
The Marquess flushed a purplish red.
"I-I—I'm not s-s-surprised at this—not at all," he stammered. "I might have expected it—er—er—American er—er—manners."
And he went towards the door with an air of great dignity.
"Quite so; the truth is foreign in every country," said Absalom. "But I will farther assure you, Lord Gillingham, that if you haven't the sense to get that safe opened at once, when you do open it you'll find the rubies gone."
ABSALOM gazed at the door which closed behind the dignified figure of the departing Marquess with a smile of angry satisfaction. He had so complete a realisation of his stupidity in not having kept his head after the revolver shot that he needed no one in the world to further impress it on him. Much less did he desire the Marquess to do the impressing, for he honestly accounted that thick-witted nobleman to share to some extent the blame for Barbara's plight. In the first place, it he had not owned the Gillingham rubies, there would have been no Gillingham rubies to steal; in the second place, if he had had the sense to keep them at his bank, they would have been out of Barbara's reach; in the third place, If he had not been so stupid as to reveal their hiding place to every casual observer, she would never have known where they were. His angry expression grew vengeful as he wished that someone might steal the rubies before that imbecile peer had the safe opened for repairs. That would be a very just penalty for him to pay.
He found it something of a consolation to cast about for people to share with him the blame of Barbara's plight; and he had no difficulty in finding two more. The first of them was the fence, Ferdinand Ferrer. If he had not been willing to buy the rubies, Barbara would never have tried to get them for him. The second was Jasper Forbes. It was quite clear that she could not have undertaken such a dangerous enterprise without the assistance of some such confederate; Jasper Forbes had encouraged her in the enterprise which had brought such disaster on her.
Absalom felt the muscle of his wounded arm carefully. It was somewhat flabby; but it did not seem to have suffered so far any great deterioration. He made up his mind that it should not. It was very clear in his mind that these two who shared with him the blame were to be punished; and it was equally clear that muscle, as much muscle as possible in the case of Jasper Forbes, would play an important part in the punishment.
He thought that in about ten or twelve days his wounded arm should be ready to do its share of the work; and he was impatient for those days to pass. He smiled a dangerous smile as he thought of the retribution which hung over the heads of the unwitting fence and explorer. Then he fell to considering again his brief but unpleasant interview with the Marquess. Well, after being so entirely frank with one's host, the only thing to do was to relieve his house of your presence as soon as you possibly could. He thought that he might safely drive to London on the morrow, in his easily-running car, without lengthening the convalescence of his wounded arm.
Then he turned once more to the matter of his almost continuous consideration, Barbara. Johnson kept him informed of her condition. He knew that the great specialist, Sir Erasmus Bloomfield, had refused to pronounce an opinion as to the permanence of her injury. He also knew that she had not yet passed out of the feverish stage, which was not to be wondered at seeing how much more serious was her injury than his own. But even so he made no doubt that he could have an interview with her, did he wish for one; and he pondered the matter for a long while, weighing every argument for and against it which came into his mind, with infinite care.
He decided that he would not see her. She must be bitter indeed against him at present; but like every other human emotion, bitterness grows weaker with time; and he had better give her time. If he exposed himself to the first sharp edge of her bitterness, she would say things which would hurt him, of course; but that was neither here nor there. He must pay the penalty of having lost his head. The danger was that she would say these bitter things, and feel bound to abide by them later. It was better not to give her the chance of committing her pride to any course, while she was in this state of aggravated bitterness. In a month or so, when she began to get about, he would see her. She would be bitter enough then, probably, but she would not be so bitter; and he would have a better chance of getting her to listen to such a defence as he had to make. Yes; he would postpone their interview till she was about again. Having made up his mind, he felt easier, and slept well that night.
The next morning he gave orders that his car should be ready to take him to London; and then he wrote a letter to Barbara expressing his deep regret for the injury he had done her. He was careful to make the letter as short as was consistent with the full expression of his grief. He had just finished it, and sent it by Johnson when Lady Sarratt came to see him. He was doubtful whether she would reproach hint or not; but he thought not; she was intelligent enough to realise something of the situation on that unfortunate night. He was right; she had come to condole with him.
She had been much with Barbara, helping Josephine nurse her. She brought him the information that it was Josephine who had insisted so vigorously that no trained nurse should be summoned, that they had been forced to yield to her. Absalom realised that Josephine had acted with excellent reason; there was no saying what Barbara might have said when she was light-headed. He wished that Josephine did not cherish so violent but so natural a dislike to him. She might have proved a very useful friend with Barbara.
Lady Sarratt also told him that Barbara had said nothing whatever about him; and Absalom was sorry to hear it. He would have preferred that the bitterness she must felt should have found vent, and the more furiously the better. Expression would have eased it. Lady Sarratt saw his frown, and she said, "I don't think you need feel very dispirited, my poor Absalom. Though she doesn't like to say anything herself, she stops anyone else abusing you, and quickly."
Absalom's face grew brighter. Lady Sarratt looked at him, hesitating, then she said, "I may as well tell you that I believe very little of your story of what happened that night. But I go about the world minding my own business. Besides, I'm Barbara's friend."
"Thank you," said Absalom. "She needs a friend."
"Oh, she'll never tell me anything—neither me nor anyone else. Barbara is like that. But one can guess a good deal."
"At any rate there is no excuse whatever for my having lost my head as I did-no excuse. A man oughtn't to lose his head."
"Not with a bullet in his arm?" said Lady Sarratt.
"Certainly not," said Absalom, with extreme decision.
"Ah, you're too much of a Spartan for us," said Lady Sarratt, smiling.
She left Absalom a good deal cheered, but when an hour later he started for London he was gloomy, enough. The future looked very dark to him. Without Barbara the world seemed of very little use.
It is beyond doubt that Absalom's burning desire to punish Jasper Forbes and Ferdinand Ferrer for encouraging Barbara to make her attempt on the Gillingham rubies quickened greatly the healing of his arm. He derived no little relief from dwelling on the retribution that was coming to them; it distracted his mind from its brooding on Barbara.
He wrote to M. Vaillant for a description of Ferdinand Ferrer, and was pleased to learn that he was of such a build that his chastisement would do no more than provide a little gentle exercise—for himself, not for M. Ferrer—which might prove beneficial rather than, harmful to his healing arm.
On the ninth day he felt that the time had come to give it the benefit of that gentle exercise, and drove down to Dover in his car. The car was put on board the steamer; and from Calais he motored quietly to Paris. He reached it too late to perform his task that night, but he ate his dinner with a very good appetite, and went to bed in excellent spirits.
Ferdinand Ferrer came to his office the next morning in spirits quite us excellent as those in which Absalom went to bed, for the world was going very well with him. The Society for the Preservation of Domestic Felicity had informed Madame Ferrer, through its amiable and accomplished agent, M. Vaillant, that she might be easy in mind about the relations between her husband and Miss Kitty Meredith; that those relations were merely business relations, and there was no reason to fear that they would prove other than advantageous to M. Ferrer. M. Vaillant had thought it well that M. Ferrer's suspicions that the secret of the attempt on the Gillingham rubies was known to interested outsiders should not be awakened, for M. Vaillant believed not in the prevention, but in the detection of crime. Madame Ferrer had not apologised to her unhappy spouse for her unjust suspicions, for she did not think that apologies were good for M. Ferrer. But she treated him with kindness and a reserve which permitted him to sleep at night; and he was well on the way already to recover his natural embonpoint.
Ferrer then was much cheered not only by the cessation of his domestic worries, but also by the fact that he must be on the point of receiving the Gillingham rubies. He knew how swiftly Kitty Meredith worked when once she begun an enterprise; and he knew that the house party at Gillingham Castle was to gather together some ten days earlier. At any moment the door of his office might open to admit Kitty Meredith or her emissary bearing rubies out of which he looked to make a million francs profit. It was no wonder that he felt that the world was going very well with him.
That the door did open, and it admitted a very large young man with very red hair and a red beard. Ferdinand Ferrer's face brightened at the mere sight of his red hair; red hair in his mind was associated always with the sale of diamonds at a profit. The young man carried a hand-bag and a whip, a stout riding-whip; and M. Ferrer's swift mind leapt at once to the conclusion that he was a sportsman, and so much the easier to sell diamonds to at a profit.
"Bonjour, Monsieur Ferrer!" said the young man, smiling broadly all over his simple and ingenuous face. "Are we alone?"
"Bonjour, monsieur; but certainly we are alone," said M. Ferrer, and he rubbed his hands softly together at the auspicious opening of the interview. The large young man seemed desirous that they should remain alone, for he locked the door. Then he came very close to M. Ferrer, and in a tone of mystery and with a mysterious air, he said:
"The Gillingham rubies. Have you the receipt ready?" And he opened the hand-bag.
Just one swift wave of wonder at the simple agent Kitty Meredith employed swept through Ferdinand Ferrer's mind; and then his eyes flamed with the burning desire to see the rubies which should bring him a million francs profit.
"Where are they? Show them to me!" he cried.
"Thank you, Monsieur Ferrer; that was all I wanted to know," said Absalom, in a very different tone, and the simplicity faded from his face, leaving it uncommonly threatening. "You have been encouraging a young lady of my acquaintance to commit a crime; and I'm going to give you the worst hiding you ever dreamt of!"
M. Ferrer opened his mouth to yell for help. He was not a man of action, but of intellect, and Absalom's quick and able hand closed on his throat before the yell came through. Then M. Ferrer hardly knew what was happening to him, so great was the shock to his sensitive nerves of Absalom's violent handling. But when he did awake to a complete realisation of his condition he found himself gagged, with his pudgy hands tightly and painfully bound in front of him.
Absalom, having been as quick as a cat when quickness was needed, went about the rest of the transaction In a very leisurely fashion. He shoved the dealer into one corner of the room and kicked the chairs into another. Then he kicked the amazed M. Ferrer into the middle of the space he had cleared.
"You quite understand, Monsieur Ferrer; you're going to be punished for corrupting the young—an offence for which the Athenians executed Socrates—a gentleman of whom you have probably never heard, though his was not such an aggravated case. And now, Monsieur Ferrer, exercise and retribution—exercise and retribution!"
With that he gave M. Ferrer a stinging cut and, as he had expected, M. Ferrer jumped and ran. Absalom took his stand in the middle of the room, and whipped M. Ferrer round and round it, keeping him at the circumference of the circle in which he ran, and at the distance to got the greatest sting from the whip, by an occasional punch from his left fist, since his left arm had healed to the point at which gentle exercise was good for it.
Absalom was sorry that he was having the spectacle all to himself, for the fleeting fence, giving a curious, kid-like skip to each cut from the whip, presented a sight to gratify to the extreme the sense of humour of a multitude. The sweat poured off the diamond merchant's brow, and the tears streamed from his eyes, and the protector of youth and avenger of society dogged away.
To a man of Absalom's strength there was little exertion in wielding the whip, and he could give his whole attention to lengthening M. Ferrer's stride and quickening his pace. He succeeded to a marvel in both. M. Ferrer had not run so far or so fast since, as an agile boy, he ran about the Cyclades. Absalom was really pleased to find M. Ferrer's wind last so long. He ran hard, jumping to each cut for nearly five minutes, before he fell down. Absalom was of the opinion that it was rather lack of breath than of muscle which caused the diamond merchant to pause on the floor, and he let him lie there for three minutes. Then he jerked him to his feet and got him going again.
M. Ferrer ran another three minutes before he collapsed. Then Absalom perceived that it was a collapse, that the diamond merchant would not run for at least a fortnight; for several days would find even lying and sitting attended with a painful inconvenience. He could only trust that he had made him a better man. He knew that he had made him a tenderer one.
He left him lying on the floor, and came out of the office much easier in mind. The clerk of the important air was writing hard at his desk, and Absalom quietly locked the door of M. Ferrer's private office behind him. He thought it well that he should have a quiet hour to reflect on his offence and his punishment before those wholesome reflections were interrupted by ministering doctors.
On his way back to his hotel he stepped Into a quiet alley, removed his red beard, and put it into the had-bag which M. Ferrer bad fondly believed contained the Gillingham rubies. Then he walked briskly to his hotel, found his car, with his luggage already in it, waiting in the courtyard, and took the road to Brussels with his heart warm with the consciousness of having performed a meritorious deed with uncommon thoroughness.
THE Marquess had been rendered uneasy by Absalom's confident assurance that if he did not make haste to get the rubies out of the safe, when he did come to get them out he would find them gone. But he found it quite inconsistent with his dignity that his uneasiness should spur him to speedy action. Moreover, he wished to believe that the whole story of Kitty Meredith's attempt on the rubies was a mare's nest of Absalom Gomme's discovery. But his uneasiness grew and grew, while his dignity remained a constant quantity; and he was relieved when the day came on which he found that it had been sufficiently consulted by delay. He wrote to a London firm of safe-makers to send down a skilled mechanic to Gillingham Castle to open the safe.
As the Marquess had feared, the mechanic appeared to be a man of a quite unsympathetic type. He was indeed a Social Democrat. He examined the machinery which opened the panel door of the secret room, with a supercilious air and a sarcastic smile, and then regarded the forty-year-old safe with a contempt he made no effort to conceal. None the less it was no little of a business to drill round the lock and cut it away; and he had been at work for nearly three hours before he sent word to the Marquess that he was ready to open the safe.
The Marquess came with a mind quite at ease. During the course of the morning he had once more convinced himself that he had nothing whatever to fear, that he would find the rubies in their cases in the safe. When the mechanic, with an air of some triumph, threw back the door of the safe, the Marquess picked up the nearest case with entire carelessness. But he had hardly lifted it from the shelf when a sudden uneasiness filled his face. He felt that it was uncommonly light. He opened it swiftly, and gazed at the red velvet which alone met his eye, with an expression of the last horror. He snatched up the next case, and the next, and tore them open.
Nothing but red velvet mot his anguished eye. The thief had made a clean sweep. The restraint of years was swept aside; and the mechanic later told his London friends that the language of the Marquess "fair gave him the creeps."
When the indignant nobleman recovered the calm of his caste he said to the mechanic:
"The safe has been opened, and some jewels stolen. How was it done? How was the lock forced?"
The mechanic poked at the look carefully, and said,
"This lock ain't been forced. It's as good as new."
"It must have been forced!" cried the Marquess. "How else could the thieves have opened the safe?"
"Well, if you're askin' my professional opinion, my lord, I should say as how they'd opened the lock by turning the key," said the unsympathetic mechanic sarcastically, for he was nettled by the contradiction.
The Marquess hurried away to the library. His intention was to inform Scotland Yard and set its admirable and complicated machinery to work to catch the thieves and recover the jewels. He had actually written the telegram, and was on the point of ringing for a footman to despatch it to its destination when the thought of the newspapers made him pause.
The newspaper, the modern newspaper, was one of the Marquess's many bugbears, one of the crumpled rose-leaves under the many feather-beds on which he lived his sheltered life. He could not bear to think of the sacrosanct precincts of Gillingham Castle invaded by active and unsnubbable reporters. It was enough that there should be an unsympathetic and impertinent mechanic from London in the secret room of his ancestors. Yet if he put the case into the hands of Scotland Yard, the newspapers would presently come to hear about it; and the privacy of Gillingham Castle would be a thing of the past.
On the other hand, the loss of the famous rubies, the pride of the Gillinghams, was not to be endured. They must be recovered. The Marquess, after spending most of an easy life in having to choose between two goods except in the matter of the debts of his heir, in which he had no choice at all, suddenly found himself in the painful position of having to choose between two evils, and he was torn by indecision and ravaged by indignation against irreverent Fate. He could not lose the rubies; and he could not bear a newspaper scandal.
Then the thought of Absalom Gomme sprang into his mind. Absalom was the middle way between the newspaper Scylla and the Charybdis of loss. It was true that he had been insolently frank, that he had displayed his disbelief openly in the intelligence of a man who had once been a Cabinet Minister. But allowances must be made for the young man; he was an American. It was a matter of common knowledge that Americans were without reverence or respect for many of the most sacred European institutions. Also they suffered from a lack of the politeness which should have induced them to keep this irreverence and disrespect to themselves. Since he wanted something out of him and wanted it badly, the Marquess was ready and eager to make every possible allowance for Absalom. The more he thought about him the more clearly the Marquess saw that Absalom was the man to come to his aid in his dreadful plight. Absalom had been right all through. He had been right in the first place in his information that Kitty Meredith was going to make an attempt on the rubies; he had been right in saying that the keys of the safe had been stolen; and he had been right in bidding him get the safe opened quickly, or he would find the jewels gone. Absalom was the man to recover the rubies.
He had so thoroughly satisfied himself that Absalom's plain-speaking was not a matter to be resented, because it was merely a national custom, that not a single kick came from his dignity as he wrote out the telegram which summoned him to his aid. In this way it came about that when Absalom reached his flat on his return from his satisfactory and successful trip to Paris, he found the telegram from the Marquess awaiting him. It ran:
DID YOU AN INJUSTICE; JEWELS GONE; PLEASE COME AT ONCE.—GILLINGHAM.
In addition to his other and more striking virtues, it was Absalom's invariable habit to use the most refined language. He had even abandoned, save in moments of emotion, the racy idioms with which his countrymen are wont to enrich the tongue of the Anglo-Saxons. But when his horror-stricken mind had grasped the import of that telegram he swore under his breath. Here was a pretty kettle of fish. In spite of her physical suffering Barbara had retained sufficient of her fine, undaunted spirit to carry through her enterprise. She had grit. She was a little wonder. Full of sand.
But what was to be done? He had failed to prevent the theft of the Gillingham rubies; it was up to him to recover them. Well, it could be done. Whoever had stolen the rubies had them still. From his trip to Paris he had not only brought back a very pleasant sense of having vindicated the sanctity of property, and punished one of the scoundrels who had encouraged Barbara to disregard that sanctity, but also he had brought back the certain knowledge that the Gillingham rubies had not yet reached Ferdinand Ferrer. Where were they?
Absalom dropped into all easy chair, relaxed every muscle, and let his mind play freely about this new problem. He was sure that he had prevented the theft on the night of the first attempt. It was no less clear that Barbara herself had not carried it through. He had been hearing from Lady Sarratt; and he knew that Barbara was still unable to leave her bed.
Slowly it grow plain to him that she had sent the keys to Jasper Forbes and he had succeeded where she had failed. Well, It was up to him to recover the rubies. But was it? There was no moral compulsion on him. His warning had been disregarded; that the jewels were gone was entirely the fault of the Marquess. He ought to pay for it. The only person Absalom had to consider was Barbara; at least she was the only person he was going to consider. Now, suppose that she could not, or would not, forgive him; then she was in a very had way indeed. She was a cripple, or at least she would he crippled for months, and she would soon be penniless. Her share of the proceeds of the rubies was her only resource. She must have it. He dared not take the risk of her losing it. He would not recover the rubies; and he would not give anyone else any help in recovering them. It might not be right; in fact, according to the accepted standards, it was wrong. But for him Barbara came first.
That was his decision. He did not like it; but be would abide by it. He sat still for a while considering it with a frowning face.
Then a happy thought came to him. There was a way. He would himself buy the rubies from Jasper Forbes and restore them to the Marquess. He wired to him:
ON THE TRACK OF THE RUBIES.—GOMME.
ABSALOM had not overestimated the sufferings of Barbara; her punishment was bitter indeed. As the physical pain lessened the mental increased and increased until at times it was hardly to be borne. The physical pain she had endured without complaining; but the helplessness which persisted after the pain itself had passed was galling indeed to a girl of her spirit and activity and presently came the dread that the injury would prove permanent, that she was crippled. The gravity of Dr. Urquhart's face, his refusal to give her a definite answer to her repeated question went no way to lessen the dread. As the conviction that she was crippled grow she was afflicted by graver fears, fears of what the future held for Sibyl and herself. The outlook was dark indeed; nowhere could she see help or hope for them. Crippled, she could make no money; her income from bridge had come to an end. She knew her pleasure-loving friends too well to dream that a cripple would for long be welcome to their houses. It was their constant effort to keep only the pleasant things of life before their eyes. Crippled, she had no longer that last recourse, marriage. In a Home for Incurables, if she could got Sibyl into such a home, the child would die in a year.
She sometimes enjoyed more hopeful moments, when she saw the two of them making a struggle for it, in their cottage at Chipperfield, on the little income saved from the wreck of her father's fortune; it was nearly a pound a week. But she knew in her heart of hearts that the struggle could not last long; that however hard she might strive, crippled she could not suffice for her sister's needs. Assuredly she could not provide for her the comforts and the delicacies which the doctors had again and again prescribed as absolutely necessary to Sibyl's existence. Truly, she was being punished, and with no right to complain; she had disregarded the sanctity of property, and punishment had been inevitable.
Yet this punishment, through Sibyl, was bitter indeed; and often of nights she awoke to lie shivering with dread. It was but natural that Absalom, the instrument of her punishment, should be much in her mind. Sometimes she hated him with a hatred beyond all words to express. Sometimes her shame at the thought of the contempt he must feel for her, a thief, was even keener than that hatred. She knew well that he would want to help her; but she was resolved that not even to save Sibyl would she take any help from him; that would be the last degradation.
She assured herself again and again that she hated him. In such trouble of mind, it was no wonder that the unfortunate girl was slow in recovering her strength of body. Then one day she did feel stronger, and she used her strength to press Dr. Urquhart to tell her the truth about her Injury. He tried to escape from the painful task; but Barbara would not be gainsaid; she was resolved to know the truth, and at last he admitted that she would have to use crutches, and added "for a time" in a tone with so little hope in it that Barbara made up her mind to the worst.
When he had gone she lay for a long time too wretched to think.
Josephine was in the room, but she could find no comfort to offer, and she said nothing. The idea that her mistress should be a cripple was hideous to her. She contented herself with gently bathing Barbara's temples with eau-de-cologne. At last Barbara said in a hopeless tone, "Well, this is the end of everything."
"But, no, mademoiselle!" cried Josephine, quickly. "You must not lose heart."
"It's no use shutting one's eyes to the facts," said Barbara. "A cripple and penniless; it's the end of everything."
"But you are not penniless—not at all, Mademoiselle. There are the rubies," said Josephine.
"The rubies are safe as far as I am concerned. I've done with them," said Barbara. "I've done with all that. I wish—I wish I'd never begun it."
"But it is impossible to be done with it," said Josephine quickly. "Mademoiselle has the rubies."
Barbara raised herself on her elbow and stared at her. "What on earth do you mean?" she said.
Josephine laughed a gentle, joyous, rippling laugh—a laugh full of gleeful mischief and triumph.
"It was the big, red, idiot beast!" she said. "He sent me—that night—after the doctor had reduced the deeslocation—to get the red wig and hide it more safely. And I had the keys—the keys of the safe. I took them from you, mademoiselle, when you were on the sofa, insensible. And I went downstairs with my little bag, and I found the wig under the bush—where the big, red idiot beast had told me. I put the wig in the bag and I came back through the Blue Room. I think to myself 'Why not? Why lose the chance?' There was no hurry. Everyone was sleeping so sound. They had been disturbed, look you. I go into the little room behind the panel; I open the safe so easily, and I take the rubies—oh, but they are marvellous!—out of the cases, and I put them into my bag. I come upstairs and put them in my trunk quite safe."
"Well—well, I said you were a treasure!" said Barbara, faintly.
Josephine laughed again her rippling, mischievous laugh, and went on. "And on the Monday—the day I left you so long, mademoiselle—M. Leroux drove me in one of the motor-cars of the Marquess to Claybury. I catch the rapide to London, and put the rubies in Mademoiselle's bank—just in time before it close. I come back to Claybury by rapide also, and M. Leroux drove me back. So mademoiselle has the rubies in her bank."
Barbara sank back on the pillow with nor mind in a whirl; here was salvation—salvation for Sibyl! Her face was transfigured with relief and joy. But slowly it clouded and grew darker and darker. On that bed of suffering she had come to see things in other proportions. Presently she said:
"It's no good, Josephine; I can't have the rubies."
"Not have them? But how? You have them, mademoiselle," cried Josephine in a tone of utter amazement.
"It's no good,'" said Barbara, wearily. "Lying here, thinking and thinking, has made things seem different. The rubies must be restored to the Marquess, it's the only right thing to do, and I've got to do It."
She spoke wearily, but in a tone of unalterable resolution. Josephine argued with her and implored and entreated her. But in vain. Not even Josephine's tears at the idea of the thought that Sibyl must suffer, moved her from her resolve. At last Josephine abandoned the effort; she said in a tone of resignation:
"Bien, Mademoiselle." Then she added, "C'est magnifique, mais ce n'est pus la vie."
"No; but it's got to be," said Barbara. "The question is, how had we best restore them to their rightful owner?"
"He is such an imbecile, the good Marquess," said Josephine, sadly.
"We can't help that; he was born so," said Barbara, with conviction. She cudgelled her brains for a while; then suddenly she smiled and said, "Kitty Meredith shall do it. Look, Josephine, you have never played the part of Kitty Meredith. It is only right that for the last time it should be played by you, the last time and the only time that that young woman plays a noble part. You'll go to town with the red wig in your bag. You'll go to my bank, and take the rubies out of it; then you'll go to the flat and disguise yourself as Kitty Meredith. You'll never get those brown eyes green enough; but I think you'll get them greenish. Then you take the rubies to the Marquess's bank, hand them over to the manager, and tell him to Inform the Marquess that they have been safely received. You won't have to say much, it isn't as though you were trying to get something out of the bank."
Josephine laughed and clapped her hands. "Oh, but it will be fun, mademoiselle," she cried.
THE NEXT morning Josephine went up to London by an early train. Neither she nor Barbara was aware that the Marquess had discovered that the rubies had gone at about the very same hour at which Barbara had learnt that they were in the vaults of her bank. The Marquess had been reticent; he had told no one.
Josephine got the rubies out of Barbara's bank, went to the flat and disguised herself as much like Kitty Meredith as her dark eyes would allow, and betook herself to the bank of the Marquess with the rubies neatly wrapped up in a brown paper parcel. She was not afflicted by any nervous tremors; to her the fact that she was carrying about the streets of London a hundred thousand pounds worth of stolen rubies appeared an excellent joke and nothing more; and she came into the bank smiling joyously, with Barbara's careful instructions very clear in her head.
She handed the nearest clerk the brown paper parcel, and said that the Marquess of Gillingham had asked her to leave it at the bank for him to be taken care of in its vaults. She received a receipt, made out to Miss Kitty Meredith, for the brown paper parcel, and having asked that the Marquess should be informed that it had been safely received, bade the bank officials who had attended to her a blithe good-day and came cheerfully out of the bank rather less than five minutes after entering it.
She returned to the flat, and, as Barbara had bidden her, destroyed the red wig.
AS JOSEPHINE came down the steps of the bank Absalom was ascending the stairs to the flat of Jasper Forbes in Jermyn-street. He went up them smiling grimly, with the light of battle in his eyes. He was prepared to make the purchase of the rubies a peaceful transaction; but his hope was that the explorer would make a fight for it. He was even more angry with him for encouraging Barbara in her war on society than he had been with Ferdinand Ferrer. Ferrer was a worm, and all his training had probably been of a nature to develop his wormy instincts. But Jasper Forbes had been at Eton and Christchurch; he had had the chance to learn better. Moreover, the matter of the stolen kiss still rankled.
He found the explorer lying back in an easy chair, smoking a cigar, and studying a price list. He gave Absalom a look of very keen inquiry as his man ushered him into the room, but he said carelessly enough:
"Hello, Gomme; how are you? You'll find that chair comfortable." And he nodded to the easy chair which faced that on which he was sitting.
"How are you?" said Absalom, sitting down in it; and they eyed one another keenly as the man closed the door.
"I've come to buy the Gillingham rubies of you at Ferrer's price," said Absalom who saw no point in beating about the bush. He thought that the look of surprise on the explorer's face was very well done.
"Is this humour—American humour?" drawled Jasper Forbes, in a tone meant to irritate.
"No: it's business—plain business without frills," said Absalom. "What's the good of beating about the bush? I know that you went to Claybury and came back the same night to get the rubies. I stopped that. But when I was laid up with that confounded bullet in my arm you came back later and scooped them. Well, I've spoiled the Ferrer market; that little hound won't be able to look at a ruby for the next three years without throwing a first-class fit. I'll buy the rubies off you myself at his price. At least, I'll pay you whatever your share was to be; and I'll see you send Miss Lessing whatever her share was to be."
"Will you?" said Jasper Forbes; and he smiled very unpleasantly indeed.
"That's what I'm going to do—just that," said Absalom firmly.
"That girl's a wonder—top notch," said Jasper Forbes in a tone of warm admiration. "But you're a bit out on one important point; and that is I haven't got the rubies."
"Oh, cut it out!" said Absalom contemptuously. He had made up his mind that the explorer had the rubies; and he was not going to be moved from that conviction by any denials, for he thought it was more probable that Jasper Forbes would try to keep the whole of the proceeds from the sale of them for himself.
Jasper Forbes gave him a very ugly look, and said, "Look here, don't you be so offensive."
"Are you going to do business, or aren't you?" said Absalom, meeting the ugly look with an uglier. "Of course, you're out to rob the unfortunate girl of her share of the money. But I'm out to see that you don't do anything of the kind."
He made his tone as offensive as a tone could well be, for he found that face to face with the explorer, he hated him with an honest thoroughness which was a considerable surprise to him, since he had always regarded himself as the most amiable American in Europe.
"Get out of this," snapped Jasper Forbes, springing to his feet.
"Not on your life. Not without those stones," said Absalom quietly. "You may as well hand them over; you'll only get hurt it you don't."
He contrived to get a jeer into his tone which pleased him very much. Jasper Forbes, with the advantage of the upright position, reached for Absalom with entire confidence. It was ill-founded in a man unversed in the art of ju-jitsu; and to this day he does not know how he cut his head on the edge of the fender.
But that was what he cut it on, and he cut it deep. After that neither of them knew much of what they did, or how they did it. They did so many things, and they did them so quickly, and they did them all over the room. It was Jasper Forbes' head which went through the glass of the bookcase; and it was the weight of Absalom which broke the two legs off the table; it was their combined weight which crumpled up the solid easy chair as if it had been a piece of furniture from a German doll's-house. The blood from the re-opened wound in Absalom's arm made fully as much of the mess as the blood from Jasper Forbes's cut head and face. Absalom was not quite sure whether the explorer was senseless from the bang his head came against the wall, when he gave his leg the side-wrench, or whether it was the side-wrench on the top of the bang on the head which made him lose consciousness.
But he got up from the top of his senseless body in a state of profound satisfaction, and laughed a whole-hearted laugh at the sight of his battered enemy lying so still. He wondered that no one had come to see what they were doing, for they had made noise enough to excite the curiosity of a deaf mute. But he did not let his wonder prevent instant action. He took the heavy poker and went through the explorer's bureau and every drawer in the sitting-room and bedroom. He did not find the rubies; and he was vexed. But that failure was not enough to damp utterly his pleasure at having done everything that one man could do to teach the explorer not to snatch kisses, or encourage young girls to tamper with the sanctity of the properly of the English nobility. He was simmering with joy when he got into his car, and he had no fear that he would got into trouble for having privately vindicated that sanctity.
Jasper Forbes would not trumpet forth the fact that he had been hammered by a man whom he had so publicly accused of having a flabby air. Even if Ferrer ever discovered who the avenger who had dealt so faithfully with him was, he would have too great a dread of that avenger's making public the reason of his punishment to take any steps to with him. But when he got home and had had his wound bound up he found that in the reaction from the fight he needed rest badly. He had not, fortunately, been marked about the face, but he was covered from head to foot with bad bruises, some of them likely to ache for days.
JOSEPHINE came back to Gillingham Castle triumphant at having so successfully performed her task, and, after thanking her, Barbara told her that she was going to write to a friend, Lady Blyde, who was in need of a maid, and who would be an excellent and thoughtful mistress. Josephine frowned and begged her not to; she protested that there was truly no need till they knew better how things were going to turn out. Though she had a very lively hatred of Absalom, she had a considerable belief in his firm assurance that her mistress would recover from her injury. But Barbara wanted to have the matter settled, and she wrote.
The next morning at breakfast the Marquess was amazed by the receipt of two inexplicable communications. One was a copy of his banker's receipt, made out in the name of Kitty Meredith, for a brown paper parcel. The other was a letter from his bankers informing him that the brown paper parcel which he had sent to them by the hand of Miss Kitty Meredith had been safely received.
Under this double spur the excited Marquess motored to Claybury and caught the noon express to London. A taxi-cab carried him swiftly to the bank, and the manager of the bank sent in all haste for the parcel from the vaults. The Marquess cut the string and opened the parcel with trembling fingers, and there before his astonished eyes lay the Gillingham rubies!
He was in two minds what to do, whether to remain reticent or awaken suspicion that something was wrong by inquiring. Then his curiosity got the better of him, and he made careful inquiries about the appearance of the young lady who had brought the parcel to the bank. The clerk's description of her tallied exactly with Absalom Gomme's description of Kitty Meredith.
The Marquess left the rubies at the bank, and hurried off to the flat of Absalom Gomme in Mount-street. He found Absalom with his arm in a sling, sitting in an easy chair, looking and feeling uncommonly sore. He greeted the Marquess with no show of cordiality whatever.
"How did you work it? How did you induce her to give them up?" said the Marquess.
Absalom did not know whom he had induced to give what up; but he took it that the rubies were in question, and it were well to go warily. He looked at the Marquess with a sphinx-like smile and said, "So she has given them up, has she?"
"Kitty Meredith brought them herself to my bank yesterday afternoon. How did you induce her to do it?"
"Didn't I tell you she had a sense of humour?" said Absalom somewhat impatiently, that being the first entirely non-committal phrase that came into his head. The Marquess scratched himself in the middle of the left whisker, and looked puzzled.
"So that was it, was it?" he said in a tone of ineffable sapience. "The er—er—criminal mind."
Absalom looked at him earnestly, and said, "Precisely."
The Marquess thanked him warmly for the happy result of his intervention in the matter, and Absalom received his thanks without a protest. It was advisable, indeed, it was imperative, that the Marquess should have any explanation of the matter rather than the right one. But after he had gone, Absalom sat very thoughtful for a long time. He divined something of the change in Barbara which had led her to restore the Gillingham rubies to their stupid owner, and he was very thankful for that, change. Oddly enough he found in it a favourable augury of his own success in gaining the desire of his heart.
A FEW days later Barbara was strong enough to leave her bed for the couch in her room; and then she began to practise the use of the crutches she had procured from London. On the eve of her coming downstairs Lady Barratt wrote a letter to Absalom, giving him this news; but the tipped Jenkins wrote three letters conveying it to three other persons interested in the matter.
The result was that three motor-cars left London the next morning within half an hour of one another. The Earl of Tilcombe was the first to reach Gillingham Castle, and Jenkins informed him that the Marquess was out riding, that Barbara would be down, in a few minutes, and led him to the drawing-room.
The Earl of Tilcombe wandered restlessly about the room for a minute or two, and then soothed his excited nerves by dropping a beautiful little netsuke into the pocket of his jacket.
Thus soothed, he sat down in an easy chair to await the coming of Barbara, quite confident of the success of his errand. Five minutes later the door opened with a jerk; Lord Fleetham bounced into the room—and cried fiercely, but hospitably, "Hang it all, Billy! What are you doing here? I thought you were In London."
"I ran down to see Miss Lessing," said the Earl of Tilcombe peaceably.
"But hang it all! I want to see Miss Lessing."
"And after a month in bed she won't want a hundred and fifty people messing round," cried his friend, yet more fiercely.
"Oh, she'll want me," said the Earl of Tilcombe, with a fatuous air.
"I'm hanged if she will! It's me she wants!" cried Lord. Fleetham.
"What for?" said the unmoved Earl.
"It's no business of yours," said Lord Fleetham. "But, as a matter of fact, just before that fool Gomme injured her I asked her to marry me."
"So did I," said the Earl of Tilcombe.
"But she wouldn't give me a definite answer; so I've run down from town to get it," said Lord Fleetham.
"So have I," said the Earl of Tilcombe.
"Well, you'll have to wait till I've spoken to her."
"Not me," said the Earl of Tilcombe, ungrammatical but clear.
"But, hang it all, we can't both of us get a definite answer at the same time!" cried his friend, with a fresh access of fierceness.
"Well, you clear out till I've had mine," said the Earl.
"I won't," cried Lord Fleetham flatly.
"Look here, where are your manners, Pinky? I'm your father's guest," said the Earl of Tilcombe, in an aggrieved tone. "You ought to let me have first shot."
"Rats! In the case of men like us it's first come first served," said Lord Fleetham.
"That's what I think, and I'm not going," said the Earl stubbornly.
Lord Fleetham flung himself fiercely down in an easy chair, glared at his friend, and said fiercely, "Rotten poor manners, I call it!"
The Earl of Tilcombe said nothing. He took out his cigarette-case and took a cigarette from it. Lord Fleetham followed his example; then he said, with a bitter sneer, "Is that your own cigarette-case?"
Lord Tilcombe glowered at him darkly; then he snapped, "Is yours paid for?"
Lord Fleetham twisted round his easy chair till his back was towards his father's guest; the Earl of Tilcombe twisted round his easy chair till his back was towards his host's son. They smoked in a fierce silence. Suddenly a rare look of intelligence illumined the weazened face of the earl, and he said, "I tell you what, Pinky; I'll toss you who has first shot."
"Right you are," said Lord Fleetham, brightening.
"Toss away," said the earl briskly.
"Lend me a sovereign to toss with," said Lord Fleetham, rising.
"I haven't a coin in my pocket. I daren't carry one. You'll get it off me," said the Earl of Tilcombe sadly.
"Well, we'd better go and borrow one," said Lord Fleetham.
"Right you are. And I think I'd better have a drink. It's such a shaky work getting a definite answer," said the earl, rising.
"Yes, I've had a couple. But I shall be all the better for another. Come on," said his friend. They went arm in arm to the dining-room.
The dining-room door had hardly closed behind them when Barbara came downstairs, supported by Lady Sarratt and Josephine. They helped her into the drawing-room, and settled her on a sofa drawn up to the long windows, with a little table beside it for her book and smelling-salts.
"Thank you both; I'm quite comfortable," said Barbara. "But, oh, it is hateful, being helpless like this!"
"Oh, you won't be helpless long. Sir Erasmus says that the muscles are bound to grow stronger," said Lady Sarratt.
"But he didn't say that I shouldn't always have to drag myself about on crutches. Where are they, Josephine?"
"I get them, mademoiselle," said Josephine, hurrying to the door. Barbara gazed gloomily put of the window. "Whatever is going to become of Sibyl and me?" she said with a sigh. "I can't see anything before us."
"Oh, you'll marry. Lots of men want to marry you," said Lady Sarratt, cheerfully.
"They won't want to marry a cripple," said Barbara quickly.
"Those of them who are worth anything will be as keen to marry you as ever," said Lady Sarratt confidently.
"Yes; out of pity perhaps. Do you think I'd let a man marry me out of pity?" cried Barbara. Then she added firmly, "I shall never marry."
"I think you will. But anyhow there's no need to bother about the future. Mr. Gomme crippled you, and he'll have to provide for you," said Lady Sarratt, with decision.
"He's the last man in the world I'd take a penny from," cried Barbara fiercely.
"But that's nonsense!" cried Lady Sarratt. "This isn't a matter of sentiment. It's a matter of business. Why, you could bring an action against him and recover damages."
"I'll never take a penny from him," said Barbara. "I should hate myself if I took his money."
"Well, he'll settle whether you take it or not," said Lady Sarratt, carelessly. "It's a curious thing, but I believe that Absalom could make any woman do exactly as he wanted. There's no saying why. He's big, but he's not imposing; he's very pink and flabby!"
"He isn't! He's all muscle! cried Barbara, hotly.
"And his hair is a very distressing red," said Lady Sarratt.
"It isn't! It's a very good red!" cried Barbara yet more hotly.
"Yet I don't believe that a woman could refuse him anything he had set his heart on. There are men like that," Lady Sarratt went on in the same musing tone, without heeding her protests. "I shouldn't wonder if he made you take himself."
"Never! He won't want to! And if he did, it would be no use. I hate him!" cried Barbara.
"You don't," said Lady Sarratt, thoughtfully.
"But I do! I hate him with all my heart. He crippled me."
Josephine came into the room, bringing Barbara's crutches. She set them to her hand, against the end of the couch. Lady Sarratt looked at Barbara's frock with an appraising eye. "You want some roses; I know the very tree; I'll go and get Wilson to cut them for you."
Barbara thanked her, and she went through the long windows.
Barbara turned to Josephine and said, "You may as well go now and write to Lady Blyde accepting her offer."
"No; I do not write, mademoiselle, said Josephine, quickly.
"But you suit her admirably and you'll find her an excellent mistress," said Barbara. Josephine shook her head.
"No; I do not write," she said firmly. "I stay with mademoiselle."
"But it's impossible; I can't afford a maid. I can't pay you," cried Barbara.
"It is nothing—but nothing at all," said Josephine, quietly; but her face was very earnest, and her eyes were shining brightly. "I stay with you, mademoiselle. You have the good heart. You did not let Madame de Saligny send me to prison; that was little. One does that from a whim—from compassion. But when I was seek in London, you nurse me—oh, for days and days and nights and nights, till you were thin—like a shadow." She drew herself up, and clasped her hands together. "That is the good heart; and it is rare—oh, but rare. I have not found it anywhere else—not anywhere—not in all my life. And I am an orphan—all alone always till I find you. I stay with you, mademoiselle."
"But you don't understand, Josephine," cried Barbara, grateful and distressed. "When I have paid my debts there will be no money—the cottage and less than a pound a week for Sibyl and myself."
"It is no matter, mademoiselle. I am reech more than twenty thousand francs. Mademoiselle has always given me my share—more than my share. Besides, there will be more money come. There is always these seelly men."
"But, my dear Josephine, you have your own life to live; you can't he tied to a cripple and an invalid. With a dot of twenty thousand francs and your pretty face, you can marry—and marry well," said Barbara.
Josephine shook her head again and said:—"It is for mademoiselle to marry. She has her Illusions. But to tie myself to a pig of a man-to one of them? Mon Dieu—no! I know them. I stay with mademoiselle; it is fixed."
The Earl of Tilcombe came through the long windows with an almost jaunty air.
"How are you, Miss Lessing?" he said cheerfully. "I'm awfully glad to see you about again."
Josephine went quietly out of the room.
"How are you, Lord Tilcombe? You hardly see me about. I'm rather motionless," said Barbara, ruefully.
"Oh that's all right," said the Earl of Tilcombe, cheerfully, and he sidled towards the table, his eyes suddenly very bright at the sight of Barbara's gold smelling-salts bottle.
"Is it?" said Barbara.
"It will be, I mean," said the Earl of Tilcombe in a reassuring tone, and he sidled on towards the attractive bottle.
"It's very good of you to say so," said Barbara, a little coldly.
"Hang it all! You needn't begin snubbing me at once!" said the Earl of Tilcombe, rueful in his turn. "I've just come straight from London, as soon as Jenkins let me know that you were about again; I came at once."
"That was very friendly of you, Billy," said Barbara, a little touched.
"Yes I came down about our getting married—about that definite answer. You promised it to me, and I want the matter settled. It's so worrying having it hung up like this. Are you going to marry me?"
Barbara looked at him earnestly and a little incredulously. "You want to marry a cripple?" she said.
"Eh? What? What? A cripple?" he said, quickly.
"Yes!" said Barbara.
"But you're not a cripple! You're humbugging me!" he said sharply.
"No. I'm not. It's the cold truth. I shall have to use crutches for the rest of my life," said Barbara sadly.
"Oh, lord! But the housekeeper never said anything about this. It's always the way with these people; you pay them and they let you down. It's perfectly beastly!" he cried, and his face was blank indeed.
Lord Fleetham suddenly bounced in through the long windows.
"Hang it all, Billy!" he cried fiercely. "Are you going to be all day? Hanged if I ever knew such a feller for dawdlin'! Haven't you finished?"
"Oh, lord, yes! I've finished-quite!" said the Earl of Tilcombe in a scared voice, and, he made hastily for the window.
"Lord Tilcombe!" cried Barbara quickly,
"Yes, yes, what is it?" he said timorously, stopping short.
"My smelling-salts, please," said Barbara.
"Eh? What? What smelling-salts?" said the Earl.
"Mine. They're in your jacket pocket," said Barbara,
The Earl of Tilcombe put his hand into his jacket pocket, drew out the smelling-salts bottle, gazed at it earnestly, and said, "Most extraordinary."
He came back to Barbara and handed it to her.
"Thank you," said Barbara.
"Not at all, not at all," said the Earl of Tilcombe, and he fled hastily through the window.
"How are you, Miss Lessing? I'm awfully glad to see you downstairs at last,", said Lord Fleetham.
"Thank you, Pinky," said Barbara.
"And what a blessin' it is you're not strong enough to run away."
"I don't find it so," said; Barbara.
"I do. It was always so jolly hard to get a word with, you—you always bolted," said Lord Fleetham, rubbing his hands.
"I never got the chance. You always penned me into a corner," said Barbara, smiling.
"Well, there's no need for any corner now," said Lord Fleetham cheerfully. "We can fix things up without one. And what I want is a definite answer. Every time I asked you to marry me you put me off. I want a definite answer. I want you to marry me."
"They're not necessarily the same thing," said Barbara. "So you want to marry a cripple?"
"No, I don't. I want to marry you," said lord Fleetham, with decision.
"But I am a cripple! I shall never walk without crutches again," said Barbara quietly!
"Get out!" cried Lord Fleetham.
"It's a fact," said Barbara, with a quietness which carried conviction.
"But hang it all! I hadn't any idea of this," cried Lord Fleetham fiercely. "Why didn't somebody tell me? They're always keepin' me in the dark about things. They do it to spite me. Hanged if they don't!"
"It will be so different when we're married," said Barbara, with a wicked smile.
"Oh, but hang it all, Miss Lessing! I didn't know—nobody told me that, you were crippled. It makes such a difference, you know," cried Lord Fleetham fearfully.
"What difference?" said Barbara sweetly.
A fortunate diversion saved the unhappy young nobleman. Lady Sarratt came through the long windows with her hands full of roses.
"We've got the exact shade, I think," she said.
"Oh, I must have another whisky and soda!" said Lord Fleetham, and he fled through the door.
"Thank you, dear," said Barbara, taking the roses. "There goes number two."
"Two what?" said Lady Sarratt quickly.
"Two flying suitors," said Barbara lightly, "Pinky and Lord Tilcombe descended on me from town to drag from me my consent to marry them. On learning that I'm a cripple, both of them have fled for their lives."
"My dear girl, what on earth do they matter?" said Lady Sarratt contemptuously.
"Nothing," said Barbara. "But it hurts a bit. I was very proud of my figure."
"One's figure isn't everything."
"Its a good deal—with men. And, after, all, Pinky and Lord Tilcombe are straws which show which way the wind blows."
"They're certainly straws, but they don't show anything at all. They're not men," said Lady Sarratt, even more contemptuously.
The door opened, and Jenkins entered, with his stately air.
"Mr. Forbes has come, Miss, and be wants to know if he can see you," he said to Barbara.
"Yes; bring him to me here, Jenkins," said Barbara.
"Well, here is a man—another—who wouldn't take 'No' for an answer before I was crippled," said Barbara as Jenkins shut the door.
"Yes; you'll see the difference between him and those straws," said Lady Sarratt confidently; and she slipped through the long windows.
Jasper Forbes entered heavily, with none of his old springiness. His right arm was in a sling and his right eye was black. There was a shade over his left eye. He walked stiffly, leaning on a stick.
"How are you, Barbara?" he said, shaking hands with her. "Still a bit off colour, I see. I expected you to be as fit as a fiddle after a month in bed."
"But—but—whatever have you been doing to yourself?" cried Barbara.
"Motor smash—awful cropper. It nearly did for me. If it had been anyone else he'd have wanted a nice new grave," said the untruthful Jasper Forbes cheerfully.
Barbara gazed at him thoughtfully, and said sadly, "The evil-doers don't seem to have prospered overmuch."'
"What evil-doers?" said the explorer with a somewhat puzzled air.
"You and I."
"Oh, come; we're not evil-doers. We never got the rubies," protested the explorer.
"That wasn't our fault," said Barbara.
"No, thanks to that accursed Gomme—not but what he's a wild-cat in a scrap—as quick as lightning—and with muscles! Goodness, what muscles!" said the explorer.
"Don't talk about them! The thought of them sends a thrill through me," cried Barbara with a little shiver.
"All right. I didn't come to talk about them, or him—confound him. I came to talk about you and me; much more interesting. You were pretty furious with me when I last saw you."
"You behaved like a hulking cad," said Barbara with conviction.
"Yes, yes, of course. You're bound to talk like that," said the unruffled explorer. "But you didn't mind it so much afterwards, when you came to think it over; not really."
"I did. I minded a great deal more!" cried Barbara.
"That's odd—very odd," said the explorer, with an air of genuine surprise. "Perhaps I was a bit previous. I was carried away. But we won't bother about that. What I came about is your marrying me."
"About that ... you've had your answer," said Barbara slowly.
"But I never take an answer unless it's the answer I want. It's silly," said Jasper Forbes.
Barbara gazed at him thoughtfully, earnestly, weighing him curiously, then she said, slowly, "You really want to marry a cripple?"
"You're not a cripple, I suppose you've got a bit of a limp. What's that?" said Jasper Forbes cheerfully.
"It's a great deal more than that. It means crutches,' said Barbara.
"The deuce it does!" cried Jasper Forbes. "No; it can't be as bad as that. I can't see you on crutches. There must be some mistake about it."
"No," said Barbara.
"It's your rotten doctor! You must see someone else—a specialist!" said Jasper Forbes.
"It's the verdict of Sir Erasmus Bloomfield."
"The best in London!" said Jasper Forbes, frowning.
"Of course he knows," said Barbara; impatiently. "But see for yourself; see the best I can do."
She caught, hold of her crutches, raised herself painfully on to them, and hobbled painfully across the room.
"Oh, lord! Oh, lord!" said the explorer softly, under his breath.
Barbara turned and hobbled painfully back across the room! Towards the end of it she turned her back on him. He went swiftly and noiselessly to the door, let himself out, and closed it noiselessly behind him.
"There," said Barbara at the window, and she turned and faced the empty room. She blinked, and then she laughed a little bitter laugh. Then she came back to the couch, sat down on it, and wrung her hands. She did not observe the darkening of the windows as Absalom Gomme came quietly through them. He stood for a moment gazing compassionately at the figure huddled together on the couch.
Then he said quietly, "I thought I'd announce myself."
Barbara turned sharply, and a bright flame of anger flashed into her bitter face.
"So you've come to look at your work," she said huskily.
"I'm awfully sorry—more sorry than I could ever say," said Absalom humbly. "I'd rather have died than hurt you like that."
"Then why did you do it?" Barbara almost wailed.
"I didn't know what I was doing," said Absalom. "The suddenness of the flash and bang out of the darkness, and the sting of the bullet in my arm, muddled me. I lost my head, jumped for the grip and got it, and never knew that I had hold of a woman till you screamed. If only you screamed a second sooner!"
"I couldn't," said Barbara, with a little shiver. "It was like a great beast catching hold of one. I was paralysed."
"Besides, I'd got it fixed in my mind that I was going to grip that infernal Forbes," Absalom went on quickly. "I was dead certain that he would come back for the rubies. And till you screamed I thought I had gripped him. It was all his fault, confound him. But I've taken it out of him all right—all right."
"You have?" said Barbara.
"Yes; as soon as I could work my arm I went and thrashed that little hound Ferrer for encouraging you, you know. Then I went round and laid out dear old Jasper. I think I've taught the infernal roustabout not to get other people hurt," said Absalom, grimly.
A sudden warm flush of gratitude suffused Barbara's pale cheeks, and she cried: "You did? Then—then—that must have been his motor smash!"
"That's what he calls it, does he?" said Absalom, with a wicked smile. "Well, his room did look as if a traction engine had thrown a fit in it."
"So you smashed him because you had crippled me," said Barbara coldly; but she could not prevent a faint touch of gratitude in her tone. "What was the use of that?"
"None at all," said Absalom, with a sigh. "But it was comforting."
"You're a perfect savage!" said Barbara with far more conviction than disapproval in her tone.
"Of course, I am where you're concerned. I told you so," said Absalom, equably.
"And that's why I'm a cripple," said Barbara.
"No; that's why dear old Jasper walks with a limp. But you're not a cripple yet—not by any manner of means. You've only had doctors so far. We must try a bone-setter."
"We?" said Barbara sharply.
"Yes. I'm going to look after you, of course," said Absalom.
"You're not!" cried Barbara.
"But I am!" said Absalom. "And what I've really come for is your answer. You promised me it in a week—and that's a month ago. I've been growing more and more impatient all the time."
Barbara gazed at him with her eyes very wide open. "I—I—I—d-don't understand," she stammered. "You've found out that I'm Kitty Meredith; and you still want an answer."
"Sure!" said Absalom.
"You want to marry a thief?" cried Barbara.
He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, one must lock at things in a commonsense way. It's no good getting sentimental about them. You were hard driven. You hadn't only yourself to fend for; you had Sibyl. Then you had been robbed—leastways your father had, in a legal way, of course; but still robbed. I don't wonder that you set about helping yourself to things."
"You wouldn't have done it," said Barbara, quickly.
"I'm a man; and a man can make a fight for anyone he's fond of. A woman can't. And anyways, you've been punished more than enough for it. And I was the unfortunate means of it."
"Yes, I'm being punished," said Barbara bitterly.
"But all this is really beside the mark," said Absalom, firmly. "I want you; you can't think how I want you."
"A cripple?" said Barbara, sombrely.
"What difference do a few strained muscles make, really?" said Absalom.
"Ever so much difference! I'm spoilt," cried Barbara.
"Not a bit of it!" said Absalom. "You are you. It you'd lost both your arms, you'd still be you. It wouldn't make any difference to me." He stooped and took her hand, and added very gently:
"Come, say you'll marry me."
Barbara snatched her hand from him as though his touch scorched her.
"No; I'll never marry you!" she cried, fiercely; and her eyes blazed at him. "I hate you! I was straight, and now I'm crooked and misshapen, and it's your doing. I hate you! You can't think how I hate you!"
"And you can't forgive it?" said Absalom, sadly.
"I wouldn't try! I'd do anything to hurt you back—anything!" she cried.
"I see. I was afraid you'd be feeling like this," said Absalom, slowly. He walked slowly across the room, and came back to her again. "It's most unfortunate," ho said sadly. "I did so want to make up to you for that accident. But I've got an idea—an idea for making things square between us. Suppose we were quits, would you feel different towards me?"
"How could we be quits?" said Barbara scornfully.
"No matter how. But would you feel different towards me if you'd injured me as much as I've injured you? Would you forgive me?" Absalom persisted.
"What's the good of talking about the impossible?" said Barbara, with the same scorn.
"Answer me. Would it do away with the sore feeling?" said Absalom stubbornly.
Barbara hesitated; then she said in a grudging tone, "I suppose it would."
"I thought so," said Absalom in a more cheerful tone. "Well, you couldn't cripple me, you're not strong enough. But you could easily blind me."
Barbara stared at him, and her lips parted a little.
"You—you're mad," she said, with a little gasp.
"No, I'm not," said Absalom calmly. "I'll let you blind me, and we shall be quits, or, rather, you'll have a bit the best of it. It's worse to be blind than a cripple."
"It's impossible—senseless!" cried Barbara.
"Ah, you don't really hate me. If you did you'd jump at it," said Absalom in a faintly taunting voice.
"I do hate you!" cried Barbara.
"Then blind me." said Absalom, yet more tauntingly.
"I will!" cried Barbara.
"Right," said Absalom. "Wait a minute; I'll just have one more look round at things." He went to the window and looked out over the gardens. Barbara stared at his broad back with harried eyes. He turned and came round the couch to her.
"I don't think I over saw the world look so beautiful," he said gently. "But the last thing I shall over see is the most beautiful thing in the world—your face."
His eyes rested on it very fondly. Barbara was panting a little. He took out his pocket-knife and opened it. Then he knelt down in front of her and put the knife into her trembling hand.
"Now, for goodness sake, don't make a mess of it," he said cheerfully. "Don't shut your eyes and jab wildly. Just one prick in the middle of the pupil; and look where you're pricking. Aim right at the pupil."
Barbara gripped the knife and leaned forward.
"Is your hand steady?" said Absalom calmly. He might have been discussing the carving of a ham.
"Quite," said Barbara through her clenched teeth.
"Then fire away," said Absalom.
Barbara looked into his bright, steadfast eyes and raised the knife. Her grip on it tightened and loosened, tightened again and loosened. Then she dropped it, buried her face in her hands, and burst into tears.
"I can't! I can't! Oh, what a hateful brute you are!" she cried.
"There—there—don't cry," said Absalom gently; and he picked her up and kissed her.
"How dare you? Loose me! Put me down!" cried Barbara furiously.
"Not I. I've got you; and I'm going to keep you," said Absalom.
Barbara struggled in his arms, crying.
"No! No! No! This is pity! I don't want it!"
"Pity? Pity be hanged!" said Absalom with fervour; and he kissed her again. Suddenly she relaxed in his arms; and her right arm fell gently across his shoulder.
"Oh, Absalom, how strong you are," she said faintly.
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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