RGL e-Book Cover 2019
Designed by Terry Walker©
RGL e-Book Cover 2019
Designed by Terry Walker©
"Paul Urquhart" is the pseudonym of Ladbroke Lionel Day Black (1877-1940) and Thomas Meech (1868-1940). This is their last book collaboration. Urquhart books after 1918 were written by Ladbroke Black alone.
"MABEL, you are an angel."
Sir Clifford Maxwell, Bart., waved his hand round the gloomy room with its oak panelling and heavy furniture. "You are an angel of light in the darkness of—not the customary abode of angels."
He handed his visitor to a faded chair that once had been richly upholstered. "I reserve this for visitors because it is comparatively safe," said the baronet, with it mirthless laugh. "And now let me make some tea."
Opening, a big cupboard, he displayed a few cracked pieces of old china, two or three tins of potted jam, and a spirit lamp.
"No, let me make the tea," said Mabel Neville. "Give me the kettle. Where do you keep the bread and butter? Thanks; now sit down and don't interfere; you must consent to be waited on by a woman sometimes."
He was a well set up man with square shoulders, a deep chest, and handsome features on which care was carving its tell-tale lines. As he watched the neat little figure flitting about the room his face lost some of its bitterness. The girl sang to herself as she prepared tea and spread the things on the table.
"Now," she said, seating herself opposite Sir Clifford, "just one little word about business. I have come to ask whether you would be so good as to do some translations for Mr Shepherd. He has just arrived home after one of his journeys abroad, and he wishes these Spanish manuscripts compared with documents that he thinks may be in the British Museum. As he does not know at present, until you see how much research it demands, what would be a reasonable remuneration, he has asked me to hand you five guineas as a preliminary fee."
Miss Neville opened her satchel and laid live sovereigns and five shillings on the oak table.
Sir Clifford Maxwell tried hard to say with dignified reserve that he would rather not accept any money until he was sure that he could perform the task, but the sight of solid gold and silver, the price of food and tobacco, was too much for the dignity of a man who had just smoked his last pipe, with no prospect of obtaining another.
"It's very good of you, you are really very kind," he said.
"Kind! Of course, we are nothing of the sort. Mr Shepherd wants the work. He sends it to, you because you can do it so much better than the ordinary professional translators, so it's kind of you to oblige him, and that's quite enough for the present about work. You had a card from Mrs. Wynter-Smith for that dance to-night?"
"Yes, it is there with the rest of the invitations sent to me by people who read their Baronetage," said Maxwell in a cynical tone as he pointed to a rusty old coal scuttle.
"So you are not coming?"
"I gather from the form of the question that you are going."
"Of course. Would you mind very much if I gave you a word, of advice? Try to make the best of life, such as it is."
"I'm afraid I am not blessed with your cheery nature," said Maxwell, as he glanced at the dancing brown eyes of his visitor.
"Oh, there's little difficulty in being cheerful if one is determined to live happily. I know what you are thinking Clifford. You marvel how I can be cheerful when I don't live in a big country house with a season in town and open doors from the very select circle and all that kind of thing. It's quite true, in my schooldays I was taught to expect it, but I like the freedom of this life. I am never bored. My guardian, the stern and just Shepherd, insists that I shall work for my living, consequently. I toil in a dull library by day and when I have a good time I feel I have earned it. Don't you think this old house, with all its unhappy memories, has a tendency to make you morbid, Clifford?" she added suddenly, changing the subject from her own affairs to his.
"It has," he said. "But what's the alternative? I can't afford hotels. What is the position of a pampered grandson of a baronet brought up to no profession, led to suppose that he will succeed to wealth, and then suddenly on the death of his grandfather, a man with an empty title. You know the story well, Mabel, so I need not pretend to you, as in what I suppose is foolish pride, I do to others, that I am an eccentric person, and this room is my study. I don't deny to you it was a bitter awakening when I came home from a tour abroad to discover that my well meaning but unsophisticated relative had been led speculation and had squandered everything. And he had done worse than that, unhappily. Mabel—"
"Oh, don't dwell on it, Clifford," said Mabel, suddenly interrupting him. "We cannot recall the past, and if we could, perhaps it would have its disadvantages. You really ought to get out of this place, you know. It is not a residence at all."
"Yes, I know it has gone mouldy, but it so happens that it was the only thing saved from the wreck, and that because it could not be sold. My father lived here when he was in London. This one room is just habitable, and it provides a roof for me till I can raise sufficient cash to go out into the prairie or the illimitable veldt, or some spot where even a baronet may start fair."
"All the more reason why you should make the best of London before you leave it. But there, I won't lecture you any more. I once heard Mr Shepherd, in one of his philosophic moods, remark that folks who have seen better times should never think or talk about themselves, and there is much truth in it. Fancy being a philosopher at my time of life."
In her light-hearted way she drifted into other topics. She discussed the up-to-date plays, summarised the latest hooks, and gossiped on without giving the man time to revert to the original topic. Clifford Maxwell had little heart for these things nowadays, but still he was not bored.
"Now make up your mind to join us to-night," she said as she held out her hand.
Maxwell went to the door, and as he was about to open it he turned round. "Why is it that you always seem to bring me some of this work from Shepherd just when I happen to be particularly hard up?"
"Oh, that's merely a good fortune that watches over you, though you don't know it. So far as we are concerned it is quite a chance. Mr Shepherd happens to want the work, and the fates decree that he should desire it at the psychological moment. Now don't get it into your head that there is anything philanthropic about any occasional visits to you, as the humble messenger of a book-worm with a hobby."
"But I know nothing of Mr Shepherd, I have never even met him. I say, Mabel, isn't there something mysterious about him?"
"My dear Clifford, why ask these questions? Mr Shepherd is my guardian. True, I had never heard of him until I saw my father's will, but that cannot be altered now. He makes me live at a Ladies' Club and come to his library to work daily like a secretary—but that is because he cannot be bothered with ladies living in the house."
Maxwell looked unconvinced, but he opened, the door and made no further comment. He watched her till she turned the corner and passed out of the square before he closed the outer door.
"I suppose it's a special gift of the Gods to have a merry disposition," he said as he walked back to his room. Living alone so much of late, he had got into the habit of talking to himself.
He read and re-read one or two of the documents which Mabel had brought, and pushed the papers from him at the sound of a knock on the door.
"Phew! What a place you do live in," said a smartly dressed man, looking carefully at the surface of the table before he put down a hat which was just one stage too shiny. "May I smoke? Those are Turkish, these Virginia," he added, holding out a silver cigarette case, and pointing first to one of the open compartments, then to the other. Maxwell took one of the Turkish.
Regan was a neighbor in a way. He was a director of the Ajax Land Development Company that used the house next door as offices. From passing the time of day as they came in and out to their respective doors, Maxwell and the heads of the company had dropped into the habit of casual conversation. The neighbors had become more and more friendly, and at times, in his intolerable solitude, Maxwell; without wishing to improve the acquaintance, had allowed it to grow.
"Just in a friendly way I called to put you onto a good thing," said Regan. "You know our chairman, Mr Edmond Brand?"
"Yes, I have met him," said Maxwell.
"Exclusive sort of person; keeps us at arm's length socially. I know very few of his friends, and as for poor old Bedford, he never gets within miles of them. But Brand has plenty of money. He thinks our offices are not big enough. Between ourselves he thinks, too, you are lost here. He likes to feel he is aiding deserving. You have only do name your price for this old house, and I can work it. I shouldn't wonder if some lady had put in a word."
"The house is not for sale," said Maxwell. He did not think it necessary to tell this man that if was left to him under conditions which prohibited him from selling it.
"Oh, that's all right. Want to keep up the price? Don't blame you, but man, we are not out for huckstering over a little thing like this. Name your figure. Chuck this den, dear boy. Get some ready money. Live in the West End, and be seen where there's money. Money makes money. Get your name on a few prospectuses. Marry a wealthy widow who wants a title."
Maxwell threw his cigarette into the fireplace.
"I fear I trespass on you valuable, time, Mr Regan."
"Want to think it over, I suppose. Well, good-day. Call in for me at one o'clock tomorrow and we'll have a bit of lunch somewhere."
"Good-bye, Mr Regan," said Maxwell, ignoring the hand that was held out to him. With a look of disgust he banged the door, and, walking towards the mantelpiece and took down his pipe. His hand closed on the shabby pouch, and he realised that it was empty. The five guineas in his pocket suggested a remedy. He walked towards the door, and then, turning suddenly opened an old trunk and pulled out a suit of evening clothes. It had come into his mind that for once in a way he might just have a good dinner.
"Let us eat, drink, and be merry; tomorrow heaven knows what may happen," he murmured to himself as he spread out the garments.
The well-dressed men and smartly gowned women in the West End restaurant would not have recognised the occupant of the derelict town house in the gentleman who ordered the best dinner on the card and chose a first-class wine.
Strolling into the lounge, Maxwell had coffee and a cigar and the finest liqueur to be obtained. "Five guineas will not carry me over many years at this pace," he thought, as he settled his bill, and, by force of habit, handed the waiter a tip representing the price of a day's rations in his own room.
"But it's worth it to have lived for an hour," he added, calling a motor-cab to complete the thing.
As the motor drew up in front of his house, a man on foot halted opposite it on the pavement. Maxwell recognised Howard Bedford, another director of the company next door. He lived at Brighton, but kept a room furnished in the offices in case he should miss his train.
"Hullo," said Bedford, "Been out? It's deuced lonely in this square at night can't understand how you manage to exist here. I have an early appointment in the morning; beastly nuisance. Can I come in for a few minutes, or will you come in and have a smoke with me?"
He pushed his way through the half open door as he spoke.
"Wait till I get a light," said Maxwell, still leaving the door half open. He trimmed his oil lamp, and changing his evening coat for a smoking jacket, lit the long-deferred pipe.
"You are a sport to stick it here. Family pride and all that sort of thing, I suppose; but what's the odds, so long as you're happy," said Bedford, throwing himself into the chair which Mabel Seville had occupied early in the afternoon. His face was flushed and although Maxwell had fared well himself, he could see that the man had been drinking. They talked generalities for a few minutes, or rather Bedford talked. He was at that particular stage when nobody else is permitted to talk. After a while he began walking about the room, and speaking loudly, and laying down the law on every subject.
"I say, old man," he said, stopping in front of Maxwell, who was standing with his elbow leaning on the mantelpiece, "can't we have a night out together occasionally. I could show you round. You don't know life, though you are a bit of a nut, you blighter, eh what?"
The man was one of that type of smart people who confuse impertinence with geniality. Maxwell's lot had never before cast among that class of persons. He maintained a chilling silence.
"Oh, I know, Maxwell," Bedford persisted. "I don't suppose I am going to give you away, but you may as well own up that you have your fancies. Quite a nice little visitor you had this afternoon. I saw her going away, eh, you old fraud!"
"Stop that," said Maxwell. The look in his eye would have been sufficient warning to most men, but Bedford with an offensive leer that was meant to be humorous, pursued the topic. "Never mind, old chap, only my fun."
"There are some things well-bred men do not regard as fun."
"No use asking for an introduction, I; suppose?"
"Will you stop that, curse you!":
"Want to keep a good thing to yourself, don't believe in passing it on? But, between pals, is it all right?" Bedford playfully prodded the baronet in the ribs, and then Maxwell's pent-up passion broke loose.
"You infernal cad!" he shouted, and as he spoke he hit out with all the fierce strength of a man striking a blow for a woman.
HOWARD BEDFORD fell heavily under the weight of Maxwell's arm among the old furniture.
A stream of blood trickled from the prostrate man's nose. His head had come in contact with the arm of an old-fashioned sofa. His body slid to the floor and lay motionless at Maxwell's feet.
There was no responsive movement as Maxwell endeavoured to help the man up; the form he held in his arms was limp and apparently lifeless. When he loosened his hold it dropped in a heap on the floor.
Stooping down again, he dragged the recumbent figure towards the sofa, and as he did so the sleeve of his smoking-jacket was smeared with blood.
He rushed to the cupboard for water, but found that the jug which he had brought in for the tea was empty. A can from which he filled his bath was also empty. Seizing it in his hand, he rushed out to the scullery along the dark corridor and through the kitchen.
He knew his way about the house so well that he did not carry a light. To-night, however, excitement made his foot-steps unsteady. As he lifted the can, weighted with water, down from the sink, he stumbled over it and crashed against the door leading into the kitchen. The door slammed, and the handle, grown rusty and loose, rolled on the floor.
Maxwell tried to pull it open, but could not turn back the catch. Cursing his own clumsiness, he dropped on his hands and knees and groped for the handle. It had rolled to the other end of the scullery. He lit a match, which burnt down to his fingers before he found the door knob.
He lit another match and another, and all the while the precious moments were hurrying by. He kicked the door in desperation, but as it opened inwards any effort at forcing it was useless.
After wasting much valuable time he decided on a systematic search, and husbanded his matches till at length, after groping from corner to corner, he discovered the object of his search.
In his effort to fix it to the small iron shaft he almost pushed the end through to the other side; very gently, with finger and thumb, he drew it back into position. Finally he got a sufficient hold with the handle to turn back the catch and free himself from the temporary imprisonment which he had so absurdly brought upon himself.
He had not the slightest idea how much time he had occupied, but he felt certain it must be too late to render effective assistance to the man whom he had struck down, if he were still alive.
Picking up the water-can he rushed back to the front room and stared wildly about him. He pressed his hands to his throbbing temples as he stood irresolutely in the doorway; then taking up the lamp he brought it over to the sofa.
Unable to believe the evidence of his eyes, he passed his hands over the moth-eaten upholstery. The body was gone!
He carried the lamp round the room, set it on the floor, dropped on his hands and knees to see if the man whom he had left lying there on the couch had rolled off under the table. His search only emphasised the fact that Howard Bedford had disappeared.
At first Maxwell thought his brain must be giving way. He had been acting under an illusion. The man had not been there; he had not knocked him down. Bathing his own head with the water which he had brought for his victim, he pieced together the incidents of the night. A red stain on the floor caught his eye. This was evidence enough that he had not been suffering under an illusion. The wine he had taken had quickened his blood, but it had not turned his brain.
He wanted fresh air, and he walked to the door. He found it ajar, and could not remember distinctly whether he had closed it firmly or not when he came in. He could hear the distant rumbling of the traffic in the main street, but not a solitary footfall disturbed the silence of the deserted square. He stepped across the pavement to the railings round the garden in the centre, and stood there hatless for a few minutes.
There was a slight breeze, and under its influence his aching head cooled. As he turned to walk back to the house he noticed a light in one of the upper windows next door.
"What a fool I am to frighten myself," he said. "Of course, the fellow was only temporarily stunned, and while I was messing about with the beastly door he recovered sufficiently to get back to his own room. Well, I hope the lesson will do him good."
He remembered that Bedford was staying the night in the apartments at the top of the offices.
The clock of a church in the next square struck midnight as he closed the door. Ordinarily he was in bed by this time, but the desire for sleep had been chased away by the excitement of the evening. The reaction after he had convinced him-self that the man whom he thought he had killed was alive and all the better for his chastening hand filled him with the joy of living, and again the inclination to go back to his own world for an hour took possession of him.
What, after all, was a dinner without good company to follow? Mrs. Wynter-Smith's dance would be at its best just now! Why not drop in and pass away the small hours with charming women and high spirited men.
Without giving himself time to lapse into a more gloomy mood he threw the smoking-jacket into a corner of the room and again put on his evening coat.
Hurrying out into the main street he hailed a passing taxi.
AS HE GAVE his name to the powdered man-servant a lady who was crossing the hall rushed forward to greet him.
"Sir Clifford, what a delightful surprise," said Mrs. Wynter- Smith. "It is indeed an honour to have dragged you out of your hermitage."
Radiant with the pride of a successful hostess her sparkling eyes and glowing cheeks matched the handsome gown and rich jewellery. She was still quite young. There was a difference between her and Mabel Neville. Mabel was pretty; this woman was beautiful.
She triumphantly produced one guest after another, but Maxwell found very few people there whom he knew. He had dropped out of London life, and the people he met at Mrs. Wynter-Smith's were not the circle among whom the old baronet had moved.
Mabel Neville was frankly delighted to see him. She thought her appeal to him earlier in the evening was responsible for his presence, and he did not undeceive her. He was not a dancing man at the best, and the latest valses were strange to him, but with girlish confidence she insisted on acting as his partner and instructress.
When other partners claimed her he wandered about till he found himself in a corner of the ballroom with Mrs. Wynter- Smith.
"And am I to have the privilege of knowing that it has fallen to my lot to bring you out?" she asked.
"The privilege would be mine under such auspices," he said, dropping into the platitudes of small talk instinctively with his return to society.
"You speak as though it were a supposition, not a fact," she said. "Is your first experience after your retirement not sufficient to tempt you?" she asked, looking up at him with a bewitching appeal in her eyes.
"Nothing more would be needed," he said. "But I am doomed to my work."
"Oh yes, you and John Shepherd are a pair of martyrs to work. I wonder why he allows Mabel to have such a frivolous friend as myself. It is really scandalous that such a sweet girl should be condemned to a musty old library, and all because her guardian has a bee in his bonnet. If he must have assistance to look after his dreary papers and letters, why doesn't he employ some-body who really needs the work. After all, Mabel is his ward."
"I understand he has an idea that men and women should be trained to work," said Maxwell, "and I could wish my grandfather had cherished the same belief."
"Oh, yes, I know that is a fad of his, and now we are getting into an argument, and I know I shall get the worst of it with a clever man like you. Oh, here is Mr. Edmond Brand. All the best men seem to be coming in late. Now you won't tell any of the earlier arrivals that I said that, will you?" she said, tapping him with a fan as she left him to meet an immaculately dressed person who stood watching the scene from the open door.
He was a handsome man of a certain type, with regular features and a well-proportioned figure. He had the easy carriage of one who does everything correctly, and is well aware of the fact. His eyes wandered round the room till they lighted on Mabel Neville waltzing with a partner whose perfection in the art set off her own graceful dancing.
He was still watching her when Mrs. Wynter-Smith approached him. Without abruptly withdrawing his gaze from the immediate object of his attention he turned to his hostess with just the proper degree of smiling courtesy suited to the occasion. When the dance concluded he moved among the people with an ease which Maxwell found himself comparing to his own incurable clumsiness.
Without ignoring the others he contrived to appropriate Mabel Neville, although Maxwell thought he detected a suspicion of a desire on her part to avoid him. With a slight movement of his eyes he beckoned Mrs. Wynter-Smith towards him, and the three stood chat-ting together for some moments.
"I think you two have met," said Mrs. Wynter-Smith, leading him to Maxwell, "and therefore as I must run away I am going to say at once that you really must accept the invitation which Mr. Brand is going to give you for a pleas-ant little shooting party at his house in Hertfordshire. Mabel is going with us; I will make John Shepherd agree to that even if I have to bully him into it. You are sure to have a good time, isn't he, Mr Brand?"
"I shall be delighted if Sir Clifford Maxwell will join us." said Brand "The notice is rather short, I am afraid. We go down to-morrow; I have delayed it until my keepers tell me the birds are absolutely becoming a nuisance. There are plenty of guns and cartridges there, so no preparations are necessary, May I count on you, Sir Clifford?"
Maxwell was about to excuse himself when he noticed Mabel looking at him wistfully from behind Mr. Brand's shoulder. "Oh, yes, of course you'll come, won't you, Sir Clifford? Let me take it as settled before I run away," said Mrs. Wynter-Smith.
Before he could raise it, Maxwell had agreed to meet the party at Easton the following day, and with a placid smile of acceptance Edmond Brand moved away, taking Mabel with him.
WHEN MAXWELL woke up the following morning he thought ruefully of the meagre balance of his five guinea. There was nothing to buy. Brand had delicately intimated this to him, but even the small expenses were a forbidden luxury to Maxwell in his present circumstances. He was wondering how he might now decline the engagement gracefully when the unaccustomed sound of a postman's double rap on the door brought him out of bed.
He very rarely received letters nowadays, and as he read this one a look of amazement swept over his face.
THE letter addressed to "Sir Clifford Maxwell, Bart," opened up visions of new life.
When a man has been contemplating the prospects of starvation in England or banishment to the wild woods, an urgent request from solicitors for an interview "relative to important matters connected with his estate," might at first sound like a mockery.
But the letter from Messrs. Waddington and White had all the tone of a communication from a substantial and serious people, and moreover they proceeded to inform Sir Clifford Maxwell, Bart., that as certain property had devolved upon him through trusts, it was necessary that they should have immediate instructions from him "there anent." Could he make it convenient to call upon them at his earliest possible convenience at their offices?
The said offices being situate in Manchester, it was necessary that Maxwell should set out that very morning. The money that remained over from his five guinea would be quite sufficient to take him there, and the purport of the letter gave him every reason to expect that he might safely leave the rest to chance. Without waiting to clear up the room he crammed some things into a portmanteau which bore outward signs of having seen better days, and caught the 10 o'clock train at Easton.
Just before the train was starting he remembered that he should have set out from this station a little later in the day for Hertfordshire. He could not repress a feeling of pride in the thought that if and when he next accepted such an invitation he would be in a position to return the other man's hospitality.
He sent a wire to Edmond Brand, in-forming him that he was compelled to leave town on urgent business.
In the afternoon he found himself sit-ting opposite a benevolent, middle-aged gentleman, the senior partner in the firm, listening to a placid statement which, in his present circumstances sounded rather like an Inspiring story from a fairy godmother.
"The circumstances, Sir Clifford," said Mr. Waddington, "must, I admit, appear somewhat unusual, although not In the strict sense of the term irregular. A certain sum of money was placed in our hands on trust to invest the same subject to certain conditions, the precise nature of which we are not at liberty to disclose, and we were directed to purchase a certain piece of land in Lancashire for the benefit of your late father if he were alive, with reversion to you at the happening of a certain event which, according to the Baronetage and the records of Somerset House, has now been fulfilled, namely, the attainment by yourself of the age of thirty."
"Good gracious, yes," said Clifford with a nervous laugh, "yesterday was my birthday. These anniversaries have had comparatively little interest for me of late, but I am interrupting you."
"Such being the case," continued Mr. Waddington, still keeping strictly to the thread of his statement, "the property becomes yours, and hence the necessity for this interview. We were not permitted to inform you before, and, moreover, I might parenthetically mention that even had you known of it, any possibility of anticipating the income was absolutely and effectively barred. The matter is urgent because a rich seam of coal has been discovered under the property, and apart from the value of the minerals there are already applications for sites on the surface for factories. Coal, as you are aware, will always attract other industries. In a very short time it will be the most valuable piece of property of Its kind in England.
"If I may say so, it has fallen into your lap like a ripe apple, Sir Clifford."
"Like a whole orchard of apples under present conditions," replied Maxwell frankly. "But I understand you cannot tell me to whom I am indebted for this extraordinary piece of luck."
"I would not say that you are precisely 'indebted,' Sir Clifford, and I hope you will excuse me if I adhere strictly to the terms of the trust imposed upon me. Of course, as it was originally purchased from the former owner and conveyed to us in due form, there is no difficulty about giving a good title to any purchaser. There is a condition, by the way, which I presume you will have little difficulty in fulfilling. You at present occupy a town house which came to you on trust from your father."
"Yes, the trust imposed upon me did not permit me to sell it or to mortgage it or even to raise money on it in any way for necessary repairs; in fact, Mr. Waddington, with all due respect to the memory of my late father, of whom I unhappily knew very little, it has been a white elephant."
"Yes, Sir Clifford, I am well aware of the sad family circumstances. Your father and mother both died abroad when you were quite a child, and you were brought up by your grandfather, the late baronet. I am also aware of the financial conditions under which you succeeded to the title, and in these circumstances the upkeep of your town house must have proved embarrassing."
"Embarrassing is a very mild term, Mr. Waddington. At the very time when your letter arrived I was on the point of chucking up the sponge, leaving the house to go its own way to the devil, and ridding myself of the burden of rates and taxes, because, to put it quite plainly, the little ready money which had come to me was exhausted and except for certain stray literary work that came to me spasmodically I was without visible means of sustenance."
"I am happy to have been the medium of informing you that these difficulties have now disappeared, Sir Clifford," said Mr. Waddington. "But the trust still remains, and although you are financially in a position to ignore it, there is a condition in this trust also that you shall strictly observe any trust imposed on you by your late father, and this would appear to extend to that which concerns your town house."
"Oh, I should not be likely to sell the old house under any circumstances. It has sheltered me at all events, and it would be like throwing over a pal because you happen to be better off."
"That sentiment does you credit, if I may say so, Sir Clifford. And now I am afraid I shall have to ask your attention to a few somewhat dry details. You can spare a few days, I hope."
"I want to get back to London as quickly as possible," said Maxwell.
The desire to join the party in Hertfordshire was strong upon him now; for some reason which he could not exactly define he wanted to meet Edmond Brand on equal terms.
"We will be as expeditious as possible," said Mr. Waddington. "But you will agree that such an estate as this deserves a little attention."
Maxwell was bound to see the reason of this argument.
"It is possible," added Mr. Wadding-ton, "that having left London somewhat hurriedly you may require a little ready money."
"Very nicely put, Mr. Waddington," said Maxwell smiling. "In plain English, I have not enough either here or in London for that matter to pay hotel bills and get home again."
The solicitor unlocked a safe, and handed over a small roll of bank notes.
"That will be sufficient I presume, for present purposes," he said; "I trust you will feel yourself at liberty to draw on us until you have made your own banking arrangements."
The possession of ready money is perhaps the best tonic for a jaded man who has known the want of it. Maxwell up to this moment had felt himself more or less of a child receiving the benevolence of an indulgent grown-up. As his fingers closed on the crisp banknotes he realised more completely the fact that he now possessed the power to indulge others.
"You will not be in a hurry to raise, I presume," said Mr. Waddington. "In fact, if I may advise you, it would be as well, perhaps, to look to an offer carefully. I mention this because there is already an application to purchase the property at a good figure from the Ajax Land Development Company. The company of which Regan and Bedford were directors!"
"I won't sell it to them," said Maxwell emphatically, striking the desk with the palm of his hand. "Write and tell them that you have consulted your client, and that Sir Clifford Maxwell declines to sell."
"The offer is a good one, but perhaps you are wise," said Mr. Waddington judicially.
Matters connected with the estate occupied Maxwell's attention for another four days and on Sunday he set out for London. He had come to Manchester third-class; he went back first. In the railway carriage big thoughts wandered over the brief eventful career which had been his lot up to now. The last time he travelled on the East line he had landed at Liverpool and was on his way to London, where the sentence of poverty awaited him from the Maxwell family solicitors.
How different the prospect now! Bubbling over with good nature, he got into conversation with his fellow-passengers.
"Strange thing that disappearance of a London company director," remarked one of them, spreading out an early edition of an evening paper.
"Afraid I don't know anything about it," said Maxwell. "I have been very busy and have not seen the newspapers."
"Oh, I suppose the truth is the fellow is in a hole and is keeping out of the way till things get a bit better," said his travelling companion. "Chap should have turned up to an appointment early on Tuesday morning, but did not put in an appearance. They made inquiries at his office and his house in the country, and nobody knows what has happened to him."
"There is only one of two explanations," said a jolly-faced north country-man in the corner; "it's either the brass or the lass. You can put most things down to one or t'other."
"Another version of the old truism, 'hunger and love rule the world,'" said Maxwell with a laugh.
"Well, that is the fancy way of putting it, but it comes to the same thing," retorted the man in the corner.
The conversation drifted on to other subjects, and the gentleman folded up his paper.
It was late at night when Maxwell arrived in London. At first he thought of going to an hotel, but an inclination took possession of him to go back to his own old room for one more night. There would be a certain satisfaction in waking up in its depressing environment with the feeling that this was the end of a horrible dream.
He let himself in with his latch-key and groped his way along the passage. He laughed to himself at the thought that his little economies had included the absence of a hall lamp. He knew exactly the spot in the room where the oil lamp would be. He had walked to it so many times in the dark that he could calculate the exact number of steps to take before lighting the one match which he needed for the purpose.
By force of habit he did things to-night exactly as he had done them before. His outstretched hand touched the box of matches on the corner of the side table.
He lifted the lamp shade, and knew exactly where to deposit it in the dark.
Opening the box he struck a match. He was shielding it with his hand, when something gripped the back of his neck like a vice.
THE match fell from Maxwell's hand and the tiny flame went out. His head was thrust forward, he had not even a glimpse of his assailant. With an effort he shook himself free, and swung round, but in doing so he only presented a more vulnerable part to his antagonist.
The fingers that had clutched his neck closed on his throat, and he felt himself thrown sideways over the knee of the man who held him. He tried to get a waist hold, but he was in the hands of an expert who had caught him unawares.
This was no common house-breaker; Maxwell knew this when he made a frantic effort to drag away the hand that held his throat. The fingers were slim, and with that observation of little things which most men experience at critical moments he noticed that the nails were smooth, as though regularly manicured.
The grip, nevertheless, was as strong as a fine steel clasp. His mouth was forced open and as his assailant held him down with a knee on his chest a silk handkerchief was thrust between his teeth.
Maxwell felt the breath going out of him, and his struggles grew fainter. The handkerchief had a sickening taste. Dimly he knew that he was being turned over on his face, and from that moment he was completely in the hands of his captor.
His last recollection was of the rays thrown from a strong electric torch flitting round the room.
When he recovered consciousness the room was still dark. He tried to struggle to his feet but found that he had been tied to a big sideboard which stood against the wall. He recognised this as he rubbed his cheek on the carved pillar.
The handkerchief in his mouth had been effectively converted into a gag and fastened behind his ears. He could not cry out.
When he struggled to free himself there was in ominous creak, and he realised that if he tugged hard the pillar of the sideboard might give way, but it would only bring the heavy top crashing down upon him.
Philosophically resigning himself to the situation, he made himself as comfortable as possible till dawn. Nothing was to be gained by working in the dark.
When the early streaks of light forced their way through the small panes of glass above the shutters, he saw that his wrists were tied with curtain ropes which were passed round his body and then secured to the pillar of the sideboard. As though by design his bonds were tied near a part of the brass mounting that had become worn and thin. By gently wriggling his body he was able to saw the rope over the brass edge, and gradually cut it through.
The purpose of his captor obviously was to keep him quiet temporarily, so securing him that a person of any ingenuity could free himself in daylight.
At last the strands of the rope were severed, one by one, and by the same process Maxwell was then able to lift his wrists up to the brass mounting and cut them free.
Stretching his aching limbs he rose to his feet and removed the gags. He walked over to the window, and was about to open the shutters, when he heard sounds at the back of the house.
Leaving the shutter closed, he stepped softly towards the door. He had been too early for his antagonist; the advantage would now be on his side, and as he rubbed his wrists he felt a satisfaction in the thought that he would pay the account with interest.
The footsteps in the corridor leading out to the small plot of garden at the back were by no means stealthy. The person was evidently secure in the thought that he was still a prisoner.
There was a bend in the passage; it was dark here and Maxwell waited expectant for the intruder, who came boldly on.
At the bend Maxwell sprang upon him; the fellow was taken unawares, and staggered back a few paces. Maxwell followed him up and caught him before he recovered himself. He was a smaller man, but the tall baronet before many moments were over, discovered that he had more than a handful. His opponent was as supple and as nimble as a wild cat. Although securing the first advantage, Maxwell could not get an effective grip. Together they struggled further along the corridor until a beam of light from over the door fell upon them. Each looked into the other's face, and then burst into a roar of laughter.
The intruder straightened his collar and smoothed the folds of a neatly fitting serge coat.
"Well, this is a queer sort of welcome from an old pal," he said.
"Dick," said Maxwell, "where on earth have you sprung from?"
"Not from the earth at all, old soul, but from the sea, and it looks as though I had shoved myself where I'm not wanted."
"But I do not understand; there is something wrong. How did you get here?"
"It doesn't matter much, at the moment how I got here, does it? The question rather is, am I welcome?"
"Of course you are welcome; you know that jolly well," said Maxwell, wringing his hand; "but let's try and straighten matters out. Come in here."
He pushed open the door of his living room and, throwing back the shutters, looked with affectionate interest at the clean-cut, sunburnt face of his friend.
Dick Hardy gazed with unapproving eyes at the untidy room.
"I can't congratulate you on the state of your cabin," he said. "It strikes me your man would be all the better for the toe of a sea-boot. Do you let the place out for catch-as-catch-can wrestling matches?"
"Oh, sit down, old man, if you can find a place; I am a bit dazed. I'll tell you all about it when I pull myself together. The truth is, you're not my first visitor since last night. The other man caught me unawares, and he has got away. I thought you were he, but as soon as I gripped you I knew there was a difference. But to give me time to get my breath, tell me about yourself. We met last in Australia."
"Yes, you had just come into a baronetcy, and you gave me the address of your town house. I landed at Chatham late last night, and ran up to town determined to give you a surprise with your breakfast. You have an easy going lot of servants. I pulled at the front doorbell—"
"Which is broken, and, therefore, did not ring," interrupted Maxwell.
"And when I got no answer, I took my bearings, and tacked round to the back of the house. A notion took me that I would not hammer on the front door, and would make the surprise all the more complete by slipping in at the back. There was a wall of course, but that is nothing to a sailor, I cannot congratulate your gardener on the way he keeps the bit of bush land at the rear, and, by the by, if you leave your back door ajar while everybody is in bed except yourself you can't complain if people accept it as an invitation to walk straight in."
"The back door ajar! Then he went out that way," said Maxwell.
"Well, burglars don't usually go out the front way if they can avoid it, I believe. But I say, old man, excuse my putting it bluntly, what time do you breakfast? Do you mind piping on your hands aft and starting the galley fires. Personally I am about ready for filling bunkers."
"There are no hands on this ship at present," said Maxwell. "I am cook and the captain bold, and the mate of the Nancy Brig. To put it more plainly, until yesterday this craft was a derelict."
"But when we parted you were the heir to a title and estates and all sorts of things."
"I thought I was. It is a long story; let me go and lock up that back door and then we will go round and see if anybody is astir in the nearest hotel. There is nothing to eat here except about half a loaf of very stale bread."
At the hotel Maxwell booked a room and got a bath while breakfast was being prepared, and came down reasonably well- groomed to find Dick Hardy the solitary occupant of the dining- room.
The sailorman had contrived to bustle the hotel servants into preparing breakfast earlier than the usual hour, and faster than the usual pace. He ate with the appetite of a hungry and healthy man, and gave Maxwell ample opportunity of telling his story from beginning to end without interruption.
"And now I suppose the proper thing to do is to inform the police, although I do not suppose they have much chance of catching the blackguard who assaulted me," said Maxwell at the conclusion of his tale. "What the deuce he wanted there I don't know; there is nothing worth stealing except the heavy furniture, and he could not have carried that with him even if I had not interrupted him. Besides he did not feel like the orthodox burglar; he wasn't hefty, although he was most infernally strong."
Dick Hardy laid down his knife and fork and leaned back in his chair with a sigh of satisfaction. Then he began to toy with the marmalade.
"You think so far as you could judge this man was a person of some refinement," he said.
"I know his nails were manicured, and thank goodness for that, or by the pressure of them they would have scratched the skin off my throat."
Hardy was silent for a while, and his good-natured face had a look of deep thought upon it.
"I have a notion," he said, "that I was wiser than I know to look you up as soon as I landed. And now about your friends. You mentioned something about a Mr. Shepherd, who has been keeping you going on siege rations. Do you know anything about him?"
"Not more than I have already told you. He is the guardian of Mabel Neville. You remember Mabel, the kiddie who seemed to grow up all at once."
"Yes, the liveliest and brightest little flapper—except Nora Temperley—when I last saw her before I went on foreign service. And I suppose he is trustee of her money.
"The tragedy of it is, she has no money. I do not think I mentioned that part of my story. It is the saddest of all. Not only did my grandfather squander his own estate, but unfortunately he dragged in poor Neville, who lost everything speculating on the grand-dad's advice. He died of a broken heart, and left Mabel practically penniless."
"And Mr. Shepherd appeared on the scene as her self- constituted guardian?"
"Not precisely self-constituted, I think; but I do not know the details."
Dick Hardy had drawn a thick leather case from an inside pocket, from which he selected a clip of paper. As he spread this on the table, Maxwell saw that it was covered with figures written in lines like words.
The door of the dining-room opened, and Maxwell glanced a the new arrival.
It was a man in a tweed suit with a bowler hat. The waiter pointed to the table at which the two friends were sit-ting and the man walked smartly over to them.
"Sir Clifford Maxwell?" he said in a tone of interrogation.
"Yes, that is my name," said Maxwell. "I'm afraid I do not know yours."
"I am a police officer, Sir Clifford, and my business concerns the disappearance of Mr. Howard Bedford, who, according to information, was last known to be alive in your house."
"THE disappearance of Howard Bedford," repeated Maxwell in surprised tones. "I was not aware that he had disappeared. He left my house of his own free will; I know nothing of his movements afterwards."
"Then he was in your house on Monday evening?"
"Yes, that is perfectly true."
"The fact that he was missing has been published in the newspapers," said the officer, "and we have only just heard that he was with you."
A light dawned upon Maxwell. Howard Bedford then was the director referred to in the conversation on the journey down.
"I have not seen the newspapers," he said. "I have been away and very much occupied.
"I shall have to trouble you, Sir Clifford, to give me some more information," said the detective, with a note of peremptory formality in his voice.
The other visitors in the hotel began to arrive for breakfast, and the manager came up to the three men.
"Perhaps if the gentlemen have finished, yon would like to have your conversation in my private room," he said.
He knew the newcomer was a detective, and was anxious for the reputation of his hotel.
"Better still, perhaps, to go back to Sir Clifford Maxwell's house and discuss things on the spot," said Hardy, intervening.
The officer was inclined to ignore the interference of a third party.
"This is my friend, Commander Richard Hardy, of his Majesty's Navy," said Maxwell. "We can speak freely before him, and if you have no objection I would prefer him to be present when we discuss the matter."
The detective offered no further objection, and they left the dining-room together. As they passed through the hall the manager came up to Maxwell.
"You are staying in the hotel, I understand, Sir Clifford—your luggage?"
"Consists of the dirty linen which I have exchanged for that which I brought in on old bag." said Maxwell. "I understand; here are a couple of sovereigns deposit; will that do?"
The manager handed the two coins to the bookkeeper, who passed out a receipt.
As they reached the house, Maxwell noticed that the policeman who included the Square in his beat was walking slowly along the pavement.
"There has been a struggle here," said the detective as Maxwell showed him into the room.
"Yes, more than one," said Maxwell. "Perhaps now we are here I may as well tell you the whole story. You have been correctly informed that Mr. Howard Bedford was here with me on Monday evening. We had some words."
By an almost imperceptible movement of his eyes the detective intimated that he was aware of it.
"Yes, and in the end I knocked him down."
"And the cause of your quarrel?"
Maxwell did not want to bring Mabel's name into the affair.
"Oh, it was a purely personal argument," he said. "I do not think it matters; I must admit I hit him pretty badly. I went into the scullery to get some water, and was delayed there, When I returned he had gone back to his rooms."
"How do you know that?" asked the officer, watching Maxwell's face out of the corners of his eyes.
"I saw the light in his room upstairs, and I drew the natural inference that he had gone in. Nobody else stays in the house at night. He only used the furnished apartments very occasionally, when he happened to be staying in town. I presume you have made inquiries at his house at Brighton?"
"Yes, he has never been back there. And is that all the information you can give us?" said the officer. "You do not know of any reason why he would be likely to disappear?"
"No, I know very little about him," said Maxwell, "except that he is a neighbour of mine, and the secretary and a director of the Ajax Land Development Company. Perhaps you might get more information about him from his co-directors."
"Exactly."
The man said this in a voice that clearly suggested that he did not wish any instructions as to how he should conduct his own business.
"Wasn't he in his rooms the next morning when the people arrived?"
"If he had been, these inquiries would hardly be necessary," remarked the officer.
During this conversation the man had been scrutinising the room with searching glances. "You say you knocked him clean down," he said "Surely that did not make all this mess?"
As he spoke he pointed to some pieces of furniture which had been knocked over in the struggle between Maxwell and his unknown assailant. In particular a small ornamental writing-table had fallen in one corner scattering a pile of old news-papers which Maxwell had thrown upon it from time to time. The officer lifted this up and swept aside the newspapers with his foot. Bending down quickly he caught up the old smoking-jacket with the bloodstain on the sleeve. His back was towards Maxwell, who did not notice this.
"I was going to tell you," said Clifford, "that a strange thing happened here when I arrived home last night. I left town on Tuesday morning and did not arrive back until late yesterday. The room was dark when I came in. I was collared by some man whom I could not see. He got me down, gagged me, and tied me up. It was in that struggle that these things were knocked over."
"And were you wearing this coat last night when you arrived home?" asked the detective.
"No, that is an old jacket which, by the way, I did put on now I remember it, when I came in with Howard Bedford. The red stain you see there must be the blood that was running from his nose when I lifted him up on to the sofa."
The detective carefully rolled up the jacket and kept it under his arm.
"May I have a word with you, officer?" said Hardy. "We might speak in the corridor if Sir Clifford will remain in this room."
The detective hesitated, glanced round the room and saw there was no other exit but by the door.
"I think you will find it worth while after I have detained you but a few minutes," said Hardy.
The man followed Hardy through the door and remained in the passage a very short time. When he came back he was still holding the coat under his arm.
"Would you like some paper to wrap that in?" asked Maxwell, half in sarcasm.
He was growing a little impatient, and rather resented being sat on in committee by his old friend and a police officer.
"Yes, I rather think I would," said the man, taking him quite seriously.
Maxwell by his effort to be cynical had done just the very thing the man wanted. He had tacitly given the coat over to him.
"I don't think I need trouble you any further at the moment, Sir Clifford," he said, as he folded the coat neatly in a piece of brown paper. "If you have any more information I have no doubt you will communicate with us."
"Now, what does all this mean?" asked Clifford, looking at Hardy after the officer had gone. "Why this consultation outside?"
"Didn't you see, my dear Cliff—well, of course, you didn't see—that you were irritating the man."
"And I assure you it was mutual," said Clifford crossly. "The fellow by his manner, if not in actual words, suggested that I was a liar."
"It is his business to make inquiries, and, after all, you must admit that to an utter stranger there was much that needed explanation. However, you won't be bothered any more just yet if you will only do as I suggest. Now, now, don't stand on your dignity, old soul. You are the central figure for the moment of what may prove an interesting affair. You said you had an invitation to a party in the country?"
"Yes, from Mr. Edmond Brand."
"And who and what is he?"
"The most deplorably correct person I know; the essence of English propriety, the sort of chap who gets us our name in the world for frigid exclusiveness."
"Well, you must put up with him for a few days. I want you out of London for a day or two. Wire to him and say you are coming; tell the police you are going, and give them the address in case they want to communicate with you."
"But I say," said Maxwell, "aren't you rather taking over this business? I have no doubt you are doing your best and all that sort of thing, but—"
"Don't you know me well enough, Cliff, to understand that I usually do take over the contract when I interest myself in anything. I am not doing this for the mere sake of being a busybody. I have reasons of my own. Get that wire off, and take the next train for Bewley. I'll occupy the room you have booked at the hotel."
Under the influence of the masterful sailor Maxwell found himself in the train at Easton.
THE CHAUFFEUR of a splendidly equipped motor was chatting with the local constable when Maxwell got out of the train.
"Sir Clifford Maxwell?" said the chauffeur.
"Yes, are you from Mr. Brand's?"
The man took the new bag which the baronet had brought, and the policeman strolled off to the telegraph office, where he sent a message to London.
The shooting party were in the fields, and the ladies had gone out also when Maxwell arrived at the house. The exhilarating effect of the short motor ride from the station had put him in the mood for open-air exercise despite his tiring experiences overnight, and he strolled across the fields on the chance of meeting with the party. Breaking through the hedge round a quarry he came upon a fine stretch of rough gorse-covered land and filled his lungs with deep breaths of the breeze that blew across the open country.
The thud of horses' hoofs on the soft turf rounded in the distance, and he watched the always attractive sight of a skilful horsewoman managing a spirited animal.
The lady was a graceful rider, and she gave the horse its head as she came cantering towards him. He could see that the beast was fresh and nervous, and he thought the lady was a little too daring in letting it have so much rein. Within a few yards of Maxwell a startled covey of birds rose from beneath its feet. The horse swerved and pranced. The rider tried to pull It up, but it had got the bit between its teeth.
Maxwell realised that unless it could be brought under control it would dash straight into the quarry.
In his colonial travels he had taken his share of rough and tumble with bucking horses and as the terrified animal bolted he sprang at the bridle.
WITH the pleasing sensation of being pillowed on a soft arm, Clifford Maxwell opened his eyes.
They met the sympathetic face of a lovely woman and a white hand pressed on his brow.
"Are you better?" said Mrs. Wynter-Smith. "Rest a little before you exert yourself."
She had taken off her long gauntlets, and it was difficult to say whether she looked more beautiful in her well-fitting riding costume or in the ball dress which she wore the other night.
Clifford, despite her warning, made an effort to rise, but sank back again on to her arm. The lady helped him to a sitting posture and for a while his head rested on her shoulders.
"What has happened?" he asked.
He had a confused recollection of having gripped the bridle, and after that all was blank. Despite the bracing country air he realised that last night's events had made havoc with his nerves.
"You have saved my life," she said in tones of deepest gratitude, and as she spoke her soft cheek grazed his.
"But the horse?"
"You freed its bit before you were knocked down, and I was able to pull the beast up. A man who was working near has gone for the doctor."
Slowly with the lady's assistance, Maxwell struggled to his feet. Leaning on her, he made his way to the road is a man with a face of outdoor red drove up in a motor.
"There are no bones broken, I see," he said cheerily. "But you appear to have had a shock."
He helped Maxwell to a seat, and made room for Mrs. Wynter- Smith. When they arrived at the house he insisted on putting his patient to bed.
"I don't quite understand your case," he said bluntly. "You seem a powerful man, yet the struggle with that brute has taken a tremendous lot out of you."
"I had no sleep last night; in fact, I did not go to bed, and I was knocked down and drugged," Maxwell explained briefly. "It is rather a long story."
"Well, don't overdo yourself by telling it," said the doctor. "You will have to take care of yourself."
The precaution was by no means necessary. Overwrought with excitement on excitement, Maxwell lay helpless on the pillow and when he dosed off into a light sleep he became delirious.
In his wild dreams the events of the past few days become inextricably mixed with each other. He had hazy thoughts of people watching over him and then being replaced by others There were moments when he was in perfect peace and contentment. He dreamed of old days when he was a big, overgrown boy and Mabel Neville a mischievous child whose pranks he always defended. It was in one of these stages that he woke up.
Mabel Neville was sitting by him. Her bright smile rivalled the morning sun now beating through the window.
"Hullo, Mabel," he said. "What, where—"
"Yes, I know you are wondering where you are, and why you are here. Well, we were just a bit anxious about you. We have been taking turns to make sure that somebody should be near by when you woke up. We have been gambling on the event, and I have won the lucky number. Now don't begin to talk, there's a dear old sport. I must run and fetch the doctor. Mr. Brand induced him to stay the night."
She tripped out of the room, and very shortly afterwards the doctor came in.
"Oh, yes, I think you are almost all right now," he said; but I would not go out with the guns to-day. I shall have to keep you under the supervision of the ladies for a little while, and now I must get off on my rounds. I will look back in the evening. Mr. Brand's valet will help you to dress.
A few minutes later a neatly dressed man glided softly into the room. Maxwell's first impression of him was that he looked his part. He was just the type of person Mr. Edmond Brand might be expected to have for a valet; aggressive respectability was stamped upon him; every movement was precisely what it should be. Maxwell took a dislike to him for this very reason. A blunderer himself he had a natural antipathy to persons of all classes who never made mistakes.
If he betrayed his feelings the man gave not the slightest indication that he was aware of it. He spoke little and then only when it was necessary. His work proceeded so smoothly that Max- well found himself dressed, shaved, and groomed without being conscious of having made any effort at all.
Mr. Brand was waiting for his latest guest when he came down.
"Ah, my dear Sir Clifford," he said, "I must be permitted as host to thank you for so courageously coming to the assistance of my guest. I trust you are suffering from no ill effects."
"Oh, just a shake. I think the horse's shoulder caught me. It was rather soft of me to get downed so easily, but I was not in good form."
Mr. Brand led the way to the break-fast-room. It was not a large party; a few of the male guests at Mrs. Wynter-Smith's had been invited like Maxwell on the eve of the journey.
"You remember Nora," said Brand, bringing Maxwell to a rosy- checked blue-eyed girl. "By good luck, she happened to come up to town on the morning of our departure, so we just brought her with us."
"Oh, yes, of course, I remember Nora," said Clifford, "and what is more, I have just left a certain sailor who remembers her."
"Dick Hardy," exclaimed both girls together.
"Now Nora, don't blush," said Mabel. "You know you needn't have any secrets from old Cliff here. He can he as close as an oyster when he likes."
"I am going to give old Dick away all the same," said Maxwell. "He was talking about you, Nora, when I saw him in London yesterday."
"Who is this? Another interesting man?" said Mrs. Wynter- Smith, intervening in the conversation.
"Yes, a sailor friend of ours who has just come home," said Mabel. "He saw Clifford in London yesterday."
"And why didn't Clifford bring him down; he might have known any friend of his would be welcome. Is that not so, Mr. Brand?"
"As you say, any friend of Sir Clifford Maxwell's would indeed be welcome," replied Brand. "Will you permit me the honour of sending him an invitation?" he added, turning to Clifford.
It was impossible to resist the eager look on Nora Temperley's face, coupled with the kick which Mabel Neville gave Maxwell under the table.
An invitation was telephoned to the hotel immediately after breakfast. Hardy was out at the time, but the message was duly chronicled for him.
Acting under the doctor's instructions, Maxwell stayed at home when the men went off with their guns. He strolled with them to the bottom of the path and as he came back he met a servant who told him he was wanted on the telephone.
It was Hardy, who, unable to shake off the habits of the early riser even in London, had been out for a stroll, and received Mr. Brand's message on his return.
"Sorry I cannot join you, old chap," he said, "I don't want to leave London just now; I have some important work on hand. By the by, I forgot to got from you the address of that Mr. Shepherd."
"I do not think he is in town," said Maxwell.
"Never mind, give me his address—right, thanks. Sorry I can't come."
"One minute. I forgot to mention that Nora Temperley joined the party after I left."
"The deuce you did," said Hardy.
Then there was a pause, and Maxwell knew that a keen struggle between duty and inclination was going on at the other end of the wire.
"Just drop down if you can without formally accepting; I'll explain to Mr. Brand. We shan't give you up till after the last train," said Maxwell.
"Afraid it can't be done; beastly nuisance," said Hardy.
"I say, are you there?" shouted Maxwell. "You're not stopping in town on my account, are you?"
"Well, not exactly; there's something else on; I can't tell you now. Is Nora there?"
"Not at the moment."
"Well, remember me to her: eh, what?"
The last two ejaculations were obviously addressed to somebody else.
"Good-bye," said Hardy, ringing off suddenly.
It had been arranged that Maxwell and the ladies should join the shooting party at lunch. Mabel was to take Nora for a drive in the dog-cart and meet the party at the settled point. Mrs. Wynter-Smith and Maxwell were going direct in the motor later.
"I have not thanked you sufficiently for what you did yesterday," she said. "You risked your life for me."
"Oh, dear, no. If I Hadn't been off colour it would have been a simple affair. I am a fairly good hand at managing horses. I must have looked silly dropping off into a faint like that. My one regret is that I must have caused you some alarm."
"When I saw you lying on the ground after I pulled the horse up I thought—I cannot describe what I thought," she said, looking at him with moistened eyes. "And the doctor says it was the second accident within a very short time."
It was a lovely September day when Mrs. Wynter-Smith and Sir Clifford Maxwell were sitting on the veranda which ran along in front of the house.
Hardy had warned him not to talk about the accident in his rooms, but to Mrs. Wynter-Smith he told at first guardedly as much about his encounter as he thought anybody might know.
She listened with deeply sympathetic interest. Gradually he told her more and more.
"And you really think this was not a common burglar stealing for food, but somebody who wished to do you harm? Oh, how revolting."
She turned her face away for a moment, and sniffed a silver phial of smelling salts.
Maxwell watched her perfect profile in silence.
With passionate eagerness she suddenly placed her hand on his arm.
"Sir Clifford," she said, "I want to say something that you must not repeat. I know you will promise me that. I would not ask it were it not vitally necessary. I want to warn you. There are people around you whom you must not trust. I—"
A shadow fell on the lawn in front of them. Mrs. Wynter-Smith looked up quickly, and her face went as pale as death.
THE man's footsteps had fallen silently on the smooth lawn, and he was standing opposite the two people on the veranda before his presence was noticed.
Mrs. Wynter-Smith controlled herself with a stupendous effort.
"Ah, Mr Forbes Regan," she said. "You have called to see Mr. Brand, I presume? He has gone out shooting, and I am afraid will not be back until the evening. Had you an appointment with him? I believe you know Sir Clifford Maxwell?"
Maxwell rose stiffly and bowed. Regan was about to thrust out his hand, but noticing the baronet's manner, put it in his pocket. He wore a Norfolk suit which, like his dress in town, was too spick and span, and the whole idea of the country costume overdone.
"Shall I ring for the servant to get you some refreshment? I am sure Mr. Brand will be sorry he has missed you," said Mrs. Wynter-Smith. "Perhaps you will come in?"
She motioned towards the French window. Maxwell, stepping forward, opened it, and stood aside for Regan to follow her.
"If you will excuse me, I must write a letter," he said. "I can find my way to the library."
Regan closed the French window behind him and threw his new crush hat on the table.
As she watched Clifford Maxwell disappear round the other side of the house towards the front door Mrs. Wynter-Smith's whole manner changed.
"What do you mean by coming here like this?" she said. "Have you an invitation—I need not ask, I know you haven't."
"And it seems I arrived at an awkward moment," retorted Regan coarsely. "Apparently you were getting on quite nicely with the impecunious baronet."
"You heard what I said," she gasped, clutching his arm and looking into his face, "you eavesdropper. You were listening to what I said?"
"No, I did not hear," he replied. "I suppose from your attitude and the soft look in your eyes it was some silly stuff. But, look here, that must not go too far, you know."
She pressed her lace handkerchief to her lips, and with her back to him pressed the electric bell. When she turned round the look of fear had disappeared.
"Oh, it was nothing," she said. "He has had an accident, and I was merely sympathising with him. But what about yourself? Is this intrusion the freak arising out of more dissolute living; when I saw you on Tuesday watching us off at the station your appearance certainly suggested that you had been making a night of it—I believe that is the usual phrase with persons like yourself who consider themselves men about town. What had you been doing on Monday?"
She was watching him closely, although the words were spoken in a light and laughing way.
"Mind your own business," he said brutally. "I was not at your dance any-way for the same reason as I didn't come with you to this place. I didn't receive an invitation."
"Did you very much want one? I should imagine your evenings in town were spent in more sporting company."
"And whose fault is that? Look here, I have come down here firstly because I want to see Brand, and in the next place I want to have this matter out. I am tired of being on the outer fringe, only invited to lunch when nobody else is present and joining up in a dinner now and then at a restaurant. There's something else in life besides making money."
"Some people are brought up to think so," she said with a slight emphasis on the fourth and fifth words, which was not lost on Regan.
"Yes, and some people learn it," he said. "But if you are going to fling about boasts of birth I could buy a pedigree as well as the rest of you."
"It's not the pedigree," she said. "It is such a thing as the gentle instinct and believe me, it is found in all walks of life. Some men could come into our set from the gutter and given decent education, feel at home within a month."
"Which means that I can't, I suppose? Well, I am going to have a jolly good try."
"You are certainly on fruitless ground when you try to force yourself on Edmond Brand without an invitation," she said.
"I'll risk that," he retorted hotly. "With or without an invitation, I am going to join this party, and I will show you and Brand, too, whether I can be a gentleman when I want to just as well as the best of them—better than that starchy, stodgy baronet, curse him. And, look here, if there is any nonsense—"
At this moment there was a gentle tap at the door, and Mr. Brand's valet appeared.
"Why, Davis," said Regan, with an attempt to be patronising, "how are you?"
"The other servants are busy, and as I understood Mr Regan was here, I thought I would attend to the bell myself," said the man, looking at Mrs Wynter-Smith and speaking in calm, cold, deferential tones.
"Oh, Davis, Mr. Regan will take—"
"A whisky and soda," said Regan.
Davis returned with the refreshment very quickly, as though he had anticipated the order.
He waited in the room, looking straight in front of him; Regan took a drink and put the glass on the table. Davis still stood stiffly by the door; picking up the glass Regan gulped down the remainder of the whisky and soda, and pushed the tumbler towards the valet.
"The motor is waiting and Sir Clifford Maxwell is ready," said Davis, turning his head slightly in the direction of Mrs. Wynter- Smith. "I have also ordered the two-seater," he added, "to take Mr. Regan to the station. That is also waiting, and there is a train to London at 12.30."
"Oh, I'm not going up by the 12.30. I want to see Mr. Brand; most important, I should say," said Regan, swishing his gold- mounted ash-plant on his gaiters. "Where is this shooting party? I'll come with you if you have room for me. I suppose you are joining them at lunch, that is the idea, isn't it?"
"The two-seater is waiting for Mr. Regan at the door," said Davis.
"Well, send it back to the garage," said Regan.
"The train for London leaves at 12.30," said the valet in the same cold, respectful voice.
"Oh, stop that rot! Now look here, Davis, I am going to wait for Brand and have this out with him."
He pulled off his brown gloves, throw them on the table, and, sitting in an easy-chair, waved his manicured hand towards the servant.
"You can bring me another whisky and soda," he said, "and don't drown the whisky this time."
The valet took two steps forward, moving slowly and precisely.
Regan looked up, and for a few seconds the two men's eyes met. The valet stepped back to the door and threw it open.
Regan took up his gloves and hat. As he went through the door, which Davis was still holding open, he paused as though about to say something. Davis merely bowed, and he passed on to the front door, where the two-seater car was drawn up to the step. A bigger car was waiting a little further off.
As the car drove away he remembered to lift his hat to Mrs. Wynter-Smith as she waved to him from the doorstep. He had at least learned the lesson of keeping up appearances before ordinary servants.
When he got to the station he gave the chauffeur half-a-crown and walked on to the platform. The man, instead of driving back at once, also came through the booking office.
"You needn't wait for me," said Regan. "I am all right."
"A parcel is expected by the 12.38, which Mr. Davis told me to bring back," said the chauffeur.
"The swine," said Regan under his breath. He saw that the man's instructions were to see him into the 12.30 for London.
"Oh, very well, then you can get my bag out of the cloak room," he said, handing the man a ticket. "I walked up to the house on my way through to London."
The chauffeur, like a well-trained servant, took the ticket without comment. Regan wondered if he suspected that he had come down in the expectation of being asked to send for his bag to the station instead of being kicked out by the valet.
WHEN REGAN arrived in London he drove direct to the offices of the Ajax Land Development Company.
In an apartment labelled "Board Room" sat a bald-headed man with a thick beard worn long, after the fashion of the late Victorian period.
He looked up from his work, and, without speaking, pushed a bundle of papers towards Regan.
"Just arrived?" said Regan, examining one of the documents.
His co-director nodded.
"I say, Graham, what do you think of my experience to-day. I went down to Bewley to make a friendly call and was practically kicked out."
"Serve you right for going," said Mr. Samuel Graham.
"Oh, I suppose you think so. It suits you to be a mere mole burrowing here day and night, but I want some life, and why shouldn't I have it?"
Graham shrugged his shoulders and went on with his work. A telephone ball rang at his side and he picked up the receiver.
"Yes, here now," he said, evidently in reply to some inquiry.
He was holding the instrument in his hand, and his back was towards Regan. There was a second receiver hanging on a long cord which stretched across the table. Unnoticed by the other man, Regan bent low and put this to his ear without moving the cord. An evil look came over his face as he listened.
"Will you send the key of the private safe?" asked Graham.
Regan awaited the reply to this question, and then softly laid down the receiver.
"Were they ringing up to make sure that I had not loitered on the way?" he asked sarcastically, when the other man turned round.
Graham made no reply, and Regan sulkily left the room.
In the outer office he picked up a railway A B C and turned over the pages. He looked at his watch and went off to a restaurant. Later in the evening, still wearing his rural costume, he took a stopping train at Easton.
He got out at the next station to Bewley, and struck into a footpath across some fields. He avoided the village and walked on towards Bewley Manor, till he came to a stone building on the out-skirts of the estate.
It was a dark night, and, seated on a tree-stump in the recess of a hedge, he was concealed from the view of any casual passer. At length, growing impatient, he rose, but stepped back again to the darkness of the hedge as a muffled figure came through the gate at the side.
The rays of an electric torch were thrown for just half a minute on the lock, and then the telescope door slid noiselessly up.
There was a sound of mechanical preparations inside the shed, and in a few minutes a powerful motor car with silent engines rolled smoothly out into the dark.
The driver stepped down, closed and locked the door, and, mounting again, drove out into the main road, where he stopped to put on his lamps.
He stood up in the seat and wrapped a rug round his waist.
At the moment when his hands were behind his back Forbes Regan sprang upon him.
THE man was borne down over the back of the seat by Regan's weight. In the struggle one of them came in contact with the lover. The car leapt forward with a bound; the road was straight and nothing impeded Its wild rush.
Freeing his arms, the driver reached them round Regan's body and took the steering wheel. Regan lost his head, and thought the man was trying to grapple him. He struggled, and the car took a zigzag course The driver man-aged to get his leg free and pressed the lever, turning off the engines.
"Hey, there, where the devil are you coming?" shouted a voice that would have drowned the fury of a gale.
The car slowed down and the voice from the roadside broke forth again.
"What are you playing at? Are you drunk or mad? Hullo, what's up here?"
A pair of strong arms were thrown around Forbes Regan. The other man loosened his hold of the wheel, and giving the body of his assailant a push sent him off the car, bearing the third man down into the road with him.
The next moment the car glided swiftly on, and when Forbes Regan struggled to his feet its back lights were quickly disappearing.
Without waiting for the other man to get up Regan dived through the hedge.
"Well, of all the ungrateful bounders; he might have stopped to thank me," said Dick Hardy, as he rose. "I can understand the other blighter clearing," he added as he peered round in the darkness for the man whom he had dragged off the car.
Striking a match, he found the small kit bag which he had thrown in the hedge when he went to the assistance of the motorist, and with the customary faculty of the handy man for taking things as they came, he trudged along without giving the incident more than a second thought.
As Maxwell had anticipated, the lode-stone at Bewley Manor was too strong for whatever attraction held Dick in London. He had got through a good deal during the day. With a rush he caught a late train down, and, finding no conveyance plying for hire at the station set out to do the modest three miles to the Manor on foot.
Shooting parties are proverbially early roosters, and Mr. Edmond Brand, correct in this as in everything else, always re- tired at 10 o'clock, but left his guests to do as they pleased. Although it was long past 11 when Hardy arrived, one or two of the men including Maxwell were still sitting up.
"I seem to have been expected," said Hardy as he was led into the dining-room, where supper was laid.
"Yes, I ventured to hint to Mr. Brand that the odds were on your coming down by the evening train, and he gave instructions that everything should be pre-pared for your arrival. You will find your room ready. The trouble about these country people is that they go to bed so early. The ladies waited quite a long time, in fact, had you been a quarter of an hour sooner they would have been up."
"Why on earth didn't I rout out some kind of conveyance from the village? There was nothing at the station and I started to walk. Moreover, I got delayed a bit by a scrap on the road with a motor scorcher and another fellow. Who they were and what they were rowing about, heaven knows. I steered into their line of fire and they scuttled out of mine with most grotesque speed."
A bell rang and the solitary servant who had waited up to serve supper left the room.
"Anything been heard of Bedford?" asked Maxwell.
"No, the police are mystified, and I must confess I do not know much more than they can tell me at present. By the way, do you know anything about his business associates. Who and what is Mr. Forbes Regan?"
"I have not any idea beyond the fact that he is a most objectionable bounder. He was down here to-day, and I gather from the fact that as he departed very soon he is not a very welcome visitor. He looked as though he had come to stay, but after a brief interview with Mrs. Wynter-Smith he departed. Their meeting was quite dramatic."
The servant returned at this moment, and the conversation drifted on to general topics.
Maxwell and Hardy joined the other men in the billiard room and smoked a final pipe. The following morning Hardy excused himself from joining the men, who were still keen on partridges. He said there might be a telephone call for him. A flicker of a smile played round Mr. Brand's well-shaven lips, and for just an instant his eye glanced at Nora Temperley.
The doctor had again warned his patient off the stubble, but, with a sense of the fitness of things, Maxwell imagined that Dick Hardy could live quite happily without his society for the time being.
As the ground to be worked by the shooting party was some distance away, and they were not quite certain at what time they might be at any given point, there were no arrangements for meeting them at lunch. Mrs. Wynter-Smith and Mabel were driving to the next village for some shopping, and Maxwell was easily persuaded to go with them.
When they got back for lunch Nora Temperley tripped up to meet them as though she were walking on air. Her blue eyes were dancing and her dimpling face wreathed in smiles. Maxwell left her swinging Mabel's hands and receiving kisses of congratulation.
"You sailor men don't lose much time when you get ashore," he remarked with a grim smile as he sought out Dick Hardy, who, from a tree stump on the lawn, was surveying the world as though it belonged to him. "I have left Nora with the ladies. Hearty congratulations to you, old chap."
Hardy gave his friend's hand a grip that made the bones creak. As he rose something fell on the lawn.
"Where did you get that?" said Maxwell sharply.
"Oh, that's a trophy of my last night's encounter," said Hardy. "We found time to stroll down the road a little in the course of the morning, and I discovered this hat in the hedge. The state of the road still showed tracks of the struggle."
"But that hat belongs to Forbes Regan. He was wearing it yesterday when he came here and he left for London by the 12.30 train."
"Well, he jolly soon came back again, if you are sure this is his hat," said Hardy.
"Certain; I noticed the peculiar tint. He must have got it made specially to match his Norfolk suit."
"It's a good thing I brought the hat with me; it may come in useful," remarked Hardy. "Excuse me, I'll just take it up to my room."
As Hardy went upstairs he passed Davis, the valet, on the landing. For just a moment the servant glanced at the hat, and then with his eyes looking straight before him he stood aside for the visitor to pass.
"I say, Cliff, I was quite right yesterday when I said you could be as close as an oyster," said Mabel as they sat down to lunch; "why haven't you told us before about your good luck? Nora has heard all about it from Dick, of course."
Maxwell did not remind her that since he had come to Bewley he had found no opportunity of speaking to her alone, and he did not wish to discuss his personal affairs with the others.
He fancied he saw a passing look of regret on Mrs. Wynter- Smith's face as he casually admitted that his circumstances were considerably changed since they last met in London.
In the afternoon Mrs. Wynter-Smith proposed a joint ramble through the woods, where by an unexplained chance Nora and Dick, stopping behind to gather flowers, wandered into a different path, leaving Maxwell to entertain the other two ladies.
After dinner, Hardy found himself talking to his host, who, with strictly proper regard to his duties, was making himself specially agreeable to his latest guest.
"You are a commander in his Majesty's Navy, I understand," said Mr. Brand. "May I ask the name of your ship?"
"I am not in a ship just at present," said Hardy. "It is possible I may not be afloat for some time."
"On special service, I presume," said Mr. Brand, bending forward to flick the end of his cigar and bringing his face close to Hardy's in doing so.
"Well, a kind of long leave," said Hardy. "By the way, you have heard, I suppose, that I had an adventure on my way here," he added.
"Yes, I am sorry that you should have been annoyed. It is rather a coincidence that you and Sir Clifford should both have had exciting experiences," said Mr. Brand, tactfully falling in with Hardy's desire to change the subject from his naval duties. "I trust the motorist was duly grateful to you," he added.
"I have not the slightest notion as to his identity," said Hardy. "The chap scorched off without as much as 'thank you.'"
"And you didn't notice the number of his car?"
"I hadn't time, and even if I had I don't think it was visible. I think he must have adopted the old trick of oiling the number plate and letting the dust cling to it."
"Ah, I am particularly interested, Mr. Hardy, in the fact that you are a sailor. In a modest way I am a yachtsman myself, and while there is something left of the late summer I am about to suggest a cruise. I should be delighted if you will join us. Would it be possible to get your leave extended for the purpose? I have already mentioned the matter to the ladies. Mrs. Wynter- Smith is coming, and also Miss Neville. I think perhaps Miss Temperley might like to have your advice us a mariner on the prospects of good weather."
Again the quiet smile flitted about the corners of Brand's mouth, and he rose to join the ladies.
Without knowing exactly how it happened, Maxwell found himself for the rest of the evening sitting at the piano turning over the music for Mrs. Wynter-Smith.
She sang divinely. The piano was in an annexe to the drawing- room, shaded with palms and they were practically alone.
During one of her soul-stirring melodies, Maxwell glanced through the palms into the main room. Some men of the shooting party were maintaining a well-bred pretence of listening to the music, but they were deep in the arm-chairs with their eyes fixed on the ceiling, obviously calculating the number of birds they ought to have hit.
Nora Temperley and Dick Hardy were turning over photographs in an album, each page of which was so heavy that the joint effort of two hands was required to lift it.
On the other side of the room Mr. Edmond Brand was talking in earnest whispers to Mabel Neville. It was the first time for many a day that Clifford had seen her looking serious. An indefinable hatred of Mr. Edmond Brand began to steal over him. He bitterly admitted to himself that the manner of the man was perfect. He could not talk to a lady like that.
He forgot to turn over the music, and cowed under the soft, reproachful look from Mrs. Wynter-Smith as he hastened to rectify the error.
Some strange fascination compelled him to turn again to look at the couple. His host lifted his head, glanced towards the door, and nodded as though signalling to somebody.
Then he rose and was walking towards the piano with Mabel, when a scared and white-faced servant rushed into the room.
"WELL, what is the matter?" said Mr. Brand in a quiet tone with sufficient command in it to steady the nerves of the servant.
"Robber, sir; a man has broken into the house Mr. Davis saw him in the west wing."
"And caught him?"
"No, sir, Mr. Davis has gone alter him. He sent for assistance."
"Which way has he gone?" asked Mr. Brand sharply.
"Out of the west door and across the park, sir."
"Gentlemen," said Mr. Brand, "may I ask your assistance My valet baa disturbed a burglar. If the ladies will excuse us we will search the grounds."
Hastily gathering together the lamps and electric torches which happened to be immediately available, the men rushed out into the grounds.
"Where are you, Davis?" shouted Mr. Brand, in a voice that echoed through the night air.
An answering cry from the valet brought them to the edge of the wood.
"I am very sorry, sir," said Davis, in the same manner as he might have apologised for having cut his master's chin at shaving time, "I thought the person had got into the wood and we might surround him, but I heard him break through a little further down, and he crossed the high road into these grass fields."
"Then we may as well look for a needle in a bundle of hay," said one of the sportsmen, who had been disturbed at a game or billiards. "He has the choice of half a dozen different ways and enough cover to hide a regiment."
"Yes, it looks as though he had contrived to show us a clean pair of heels," said Hardy, who, it must be confessed, was more interested in the question whether Nora Temperley was very much frightened than in the excitement of the chase "Has he got much, do you think?" he added, turning to Davis.
"I could not say, sir. I saw him coming out of your room," replied the valet.
"Then perhaps Mr Hardy had better examine his room and we can telephone to the police, so that the description of any missing articles may be circulated by morning," said Mr. Brand.
The party returned to the home, and Hardy rushed up to his room. His clothes had been turned over, and scattered on the floor. He picked up a leather bag which he had brought with him, and turning his back on the rest of the party who were standing in the door, took it to the light. Then he went to the wardrobe and opened It.
"No, I don't think the burglar has found anything of much value to him," he said, addressing Mr Brand. "I hardly know if is worthwhile telephoning to the police."
"But in the interest of society and protection of property one ought to do so," said Mr Brand.
"Oh there's no harm, so far as I know," said Hardy in an off- hand manner. "I suggest that while you are ringing them up the rest of us might go down and reassure the ladies."
THE FOLLOWING morning the party began to break up. The sportsmen had other shooting engagements. The ladies were going back to town a day or two later. Mr. Brand was in the library writing letters when Dick Hardy entered.
"What do you know of Mr Forbes Hogan?" said Dick, coming directly to the point.
"He is one of the directors of a company of which I happen to be chairman—a capable business man, but—and then my interest in him ceases," said Mr Brand, leaning back in his chair and forming an angle with the tips of his fingers.
"My reason for putting the question to you," said Hardy, "is that he is the man who broke into this house last night."
Mr Brand raised his eyebrows just sufficient to exhibit astonishment but refrained from casting ridicule on the suggestion of his guest.
"Moreover he was the man who was scrapping with the motorist when I pulled him away; I found his hat the morning after, and the hat was taken from my room last night."
"I regret to say it is quite possible he would be the kind of person to assault his chauffeur," said Mr. Brand, "but housebreaking is surely a drastic step to remove evidence of a mere vulgar breach of the peace?"
"So I thought," remarked Hardy dryly. "But nevertheless that hat, which was of a peculiar shape and colour, must have been noticed by other people, and if produced at any time would be a means of identification."
"But how do you suggest that he knew the hat was in your possession?"
"I don't think he knew; it was a lucky find for him, but what I do suggest is that he was the only person who would have any interest in taking the hat away."
"And what do you think was his original object? Are you quite sure nothing else was missing?"
"Oh, yes, there was something else missing," said Hardy, leaning his arm on the desk and speaking in low tones an he looked straight at his host, "a few bits of jewellery were taken as a blind, of course. My kit-bag has a false bottom. In it I usually keep a pocketbook I suspected when I heard the thief had been in my room that he was after that He had churned over my clothes and gone through my pockets and then had got to the bag."
"I trust the loss of the pocket book is not a serious matter for you," said Mr. Brand.
"No, it so happens it is not. If the thief is an ordinary burglar he will he disappointed when he discovers that there are no bank notes in it. If he has something else in his mind the slips of paper which he will discover there are of little use to him without the key."
"You mean," said Mr. Brand, who was looking at his visitor over the arch formed by the tips of his fingers, "that you carry your code with you—I believe that is the technical term of the special alphabet associated with naval signals."
"As a matter of fact, it is not a code in the ordinary way at all, but certain notes I made in a code of my own which I alone can read. I know the key off by heart, and destroyed it long since."
"Discreet, very discreet," said Mr. Brand approvingly; "if there is anything I can do in the matter, pray command me."
"You can tell me all you know about Forbes Regan. He called here two days ago, I believe, and was kicked out."
"Yes, my instructions to my confidential valet were that I was never at home to him at Bewley Manor. The company of which he is a director had been formed before I was asked to become chairman, and I know little of his antecedents. As I have told you, he is a capable man of business but not quite a gentleman; in fact, without wishing to be unjust, one might almost describe him as approaching the vulgar. Unfortunately he has an embarrassing ambition for good society, and as he has attempted to take advantage of his business associations with me for introductions, I have felt compelled, reluctantly, to take strong measures."
"But surely somebody connected with the company knows his antecedents."
"The secretary, who is also a director, Mr. Howard Bedford, as you may have heard, has disappeared. He and Mr. Regan were well known to each other. The acting secretary, another director, Mr. Samuel Graham, I think, does not know so much of Mr. Regan."
"And how do you account for Mr. Bedford's disappearance?" said Hardy abruptly.
"At the moment I cannot express an opinion," said Mr. Brand imperturbably.
"You know that Sir Clifford Maxwell is in the unfortunate position of being the last person known to have seen Mr. Bedford alive?"
"Yes, I have heard it from some of my guests, but I have not cared to discuss so delicate a matter with Sir Clifford until he should have thought fit to invite me to do so. We are neither of us lawyers, but we both know, I presume, that unless the dead body of Mr. Bedford is found, no charge can be made against Sir Clifford, or indeed against anybody."
"Yes, but it's deuced awkward business to be under observation by the police. The public will begin to talk soon, and unless the matter is cleared up his position will be very unpleasant."
"Very unpleasant, indeed, Would you like to speak to Mr Forbes Regan or to Mr. Graham? To save delay. I have a private telephone to the office of the company, so that I can always ring up London and get my messages forwarded from there."
He reached over one of two telephone instruments that stood on the desk.
"Is Mr. Regan there?" he said. "Has just gone out. Do you expect him back shortly? You can't say...Find him as soon as possible, and tell him to call Consolidated at once. You understand at once."
"That was a matter of business I just remembered which should have been at-tended to earlier," he explained, turning to Hardy, "Would you like to speak to Mr. Graham?"
He handed the Instrument to Hardy.
"Mr. Regan has been at the office this morning, I understand?" asked Hardy.
"Yes," came the reply.
"What time?"
"Ten o'clock."
"Was he there yesterday afternoon?"
"Yes."
"Do you know if he has been out of town since?"
"No."
The man at the other end was obviously a person who talked in monosyllables.
Hardy hung up the receiver. There was no further information to be obtained from this source. He had been trained to swift decisions, and he picked up a time-table that lay on the desk.
"There is a train to London in 20 minutes," he said; "can I manage it?"
Mr. Brand switched the point of an electric speaking apparatus to the word garage. "Two-seater for the station immediately," he said.
"The car will be out of the garage in two minutes," he said, turning to Hardy. "There is always a man on duty. Shall I make your apologies to the rest of the guests? You will be back this evening, probably?"
When Hardy had gone, Mr. Brand again turned to the private telephone.
ON ARRIVING at Easton, Hardy went direct to the office of the Ajax Land Development Company. A man whom he supposed from his clothes to be Mr. Forbes Regan came down the steps to the waiting taxi.
"Mr. Forbes Regan, I think?" said Hardy.
The man, ignoring the question, was stepping into the taxi, when Hardy put his hand on his arm.
"I have not time to talk to you, wherever you are," said Regan, throwing him off. "Drive on," he shouted to the chauffeur.
The taxi moved on. Hardy, with a neat leap, sprang on to the footboard and opened the door. As Regan threw down the window to push him away, his well shined hat rolled on to the floor of the cab. For the first time the two men looked squarely at each other.
"Great heavens!" said Hardy.
"Blazes!" exclaimed Regan.
HARDY was holding the handle with his right hand. Through the open window he sent a smashing left that drove Regan back into the corner of the cab.
In a few seconds he had opened the door, and swung himself in. The thing happened so quickly that the driver had not noticed it, and the car forged out into the main street.
"A very interesting meeting," said Hardy, "I suppose it would never strike you, Mr. Frederick Ramsden, that a man who was on the final gasp with fever when you last saw him would turn up in London to renew an undesired acquaintance, especially as I understand some of my friends were a little previous in circulating the news of my death."
Regan was still panting in the corner of the cab; a straight left from a British sailor in the middle of a man's chest is no light matter.
"I see you have no inclination to talk just at present," said Hardy, "and while you are collecting your scattered thoughts I'll just explain to you briefly that for the moment I want my pocket- book. You know what I mean; the one you got out of my room at Bewley Manor last night; that is the first thing. Safe delivery of that at once will prevent my telling this man to drive to the nearest police station, there to charge you with burglariously entering Mr. Edmond Brand's house. After that I shall want to have quite a long and an interesting talk with you about old times. Now, come along; the pocket-book."
"I—don't—know—what you mean," said Regan, who was slowly recovering his breath.
"Would you like to hear the story told in the police court? I tell you I want my book, and I'm going to get it."
"Wait till—get—my flat."
The taxi was now threading its way through the traffic westwards.
Neither of the men spoke any more on the way. Regan, because it was too great an effort; Hardy, because he was not given to long monologues. The flat was on the second floor; Regan let himself in with a latch-key. It was in a building of bachelors' chambers and there was no servant for individual flats.
He went to a sideboard and helped him-self to a still brandy.
"Will you have a drink?" he said.
"Not with you," replied Hardy. "Come; now to business; first, that pocket-book."
"Sit down," said Regan, pointing to a big reading chair.
Hardy sat down, and watched Regan, who was obviously endeavouring to gain time.
"I am in no hurry myself, but you had better not delay the sale of those Consolidateds," he said.
Regan turned round suddenly with a look of astonishment.
"Oh, it's all right," said Hardy. "I heard Mr. Brand giving the order over the telephone, and he seemed pretty keen on the job being done at once."
"Oh, yes, yes," said Regan, recovering an appearance of composure, "just excuse me a moment; I want to get to that drawer."
As he spoke he passed in front of Hardy, and with a quick turn stamped his foot upon a spring. Hardy had not noticed that it was a collapsible chair; the seat slid out, the supports dropped down, and Hardy fell backwards. Before he could recover himself Regan rolled the chair smartly on its well-oiled castors through an open door, which he slammed and locked.
Dick rolled off the chair and found that he had been neatly imprisoned in a bath-room. He heard the main door of the flat slam and knew that his man had escaped.
Cursing himself for his own simplicity, he lilted up his voice and bellowed as though shouting from the main top in a gale of wind.
"Ahoy, there!" he cried.
The rooms round him were empty; they were occupied mainly by city men like Regan and a few actors. The porter at the bottom, when at length the repeated shouts of "Ahoy!" reached him, in his dreams, expressed to himself a strong wish that his actor-tenants would go somewhere else to rehearse their sea plays.
Hearing no reply. Hardy looked round for means of escape. The window of the bath-room was very small. He could not get out that way. He yelled intermittently in the hope of attracting attention. It was some hours before a neighbouring tenant happened to hear him.
"Hullo, in there, can't you make less row?" he cried, kicking the outer door.
"Hey, stop, I want you; there is something wrong. I am in trouble here."
"Then why the dickens don't you shout down the tube to the porter instead of disturbing me. I have come home for a lie down before going on in a heavy part to-night."
"I tell you I can't; I am locked in. Open the door; it opens towards me, and I can't burst it out."
The neighbour by this time thought it was necessary to fetch the porter, and with the aid of the duplicate key they got in.
When Hardy was released the only sympathy he got was a surly inquiry from the porter as to what business he had there, and an uncontrollable fit of laughter on the part of the actor when he told of how he had been trapped by the collapsible chair.
"Now, I want to search this flat for the thing I came in to fetch," said Hardy.
"No, you don't," said the porter. "You won't lay a finger on anything in these premises without Mr. Regan's consent."
"But I tell you, Regan, as you call him, is a thief. He has got my property here."
"That is for you to prove. You get out of this; I daresay you are more rogue than fool if the truth was known. Now, then, 'op it."
He held the door open aggressively; Hardy felt inclined to punch his head, but saw there could be no effective search if he had to fight every inch of the ground.
As he went down the stairs the porter explained to the actor that Mr. Regan had mentioned he was not to take any notice if the looney up in his room complained about his having put him under control.
"Mr. Regan says, says he," added the porter, as he was rubbing the edge of his thumb nail round a sovereign in his pocket. "He'll be all right when he has cooled down. It is a hobby of his to look for books. Tell him to 'op it and he'll go like a lamb. Well, it takes all sorts to make a world, sir."
Hardy had his own reasons for not applying for a search warrant. Looking at his watch he found it might be just time to get to the office of the Ajax Land Development Company before they closed. The clerks were bustling with the day's work in contemplation of closing time, and Mr. Graham, the sole responsible man now in the office, was at first disinclined to see a visitor who had no definite appointment. Hardy wrote on the back of his card a note to the effect that he had just come up from Bewley, and on this introduction he was ushered into the board-room.
Mr. Graham pointed to a seat with the end of his pen, and waited for the caller to state his business.
He was wearing a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles which, with his flowing beard and bald head gave him a professional appearance that impressed Hardy more than he cared to admit. He had come here smarting under the indignity which Forbes Regan had put upon him, and had made up his mind to have a straight talk with that gentleman's office companion.
Sound, substantial, business-like stolidity pervaded the whole of this establishment. The fact had been borne in upon Hardy when he was waiting in the outer office, and he now realised that the guiding spirit of the staff was a man with whom no subordinate would dare to take a liberty. Not even a client would run the risk of making a joke in his presence.
It was difficult to imagine Mr. Forbes Regan sitting at the same table as this human machine with the punctilious and proper Mr. Edmond Brand as their common denominator.
"I have called to see you concerning Mr. Forbes Regan," said Hardy.
Mr. Graham held his spectacles up to the light, and carefully wiped them.
"Is it on business connected with the Ajax Land Development Company?" he said. "If so, I shall be happy to attend to the matter."
"No, it is rather a personal affair. I want to know—"
"I have nothing to do with Mr. Forbes Regan's personal affairs." said Mr. Graham, picking up a document and looking at it as a clear indication that he wanted to hear no more.
"But, look here, do you know the sort of person you have here, as your stable companion? Did you make any inquiries about him? Have you any idea as to his antecedents?"
"Mr. Forbes Regan's relations with the company are of a business character. They are strictly defined. I repeat, sir, if you have, any business association with Mr. Regan which affect the company I shall be happy to give you my attention."
"Well, perhaps you can tell me where Mr. Forbes Regan is to be found now," said Hardy.
"I do not expect him back to-day. His movements outside the office do not concern me."
"Oh, well, I'll get back to Bewley. Can I take any message from you to Mr. Edmond Brand? Shall I tell him that Regan has sold the Consolidateds according to instructions?"
As swiftly as a man of his hearing could move Mr. Graham turned towards Dick Hardy, and looked at him for some moments through his spectacles without speaking.
"You may tell Mr. Brand that his instructions have been duly observed," he said at length.
"And you may tell Mr. Forbes Regan that he is a fool if he fancies there was anything clever in the trick he played me to- day."
Mr. Graham rose and walked towards the door. With his hand held out to-wards the knob he looked at Hardy in an irritating and superior manner.
"My colleagues in this business are pleased in their private life to associate with people who are not business men," he said, "and I have no doubt they have many of the misunderstandings that provide excitement for the leisured classes. I am a business man, and I will be grateful if persons will call on me concerning my business affairs only."
By this time he was holding the door open, and Hardy had no other course but to pass through it.
He went to see the detective who had charge of the Bedford case. There was no further information on this subject, but the officer was interested in what Hardy had to tell him concerning Mr. Forbes Regan.
Dick caught a train down to Bewley. Mr. Brand's valet met him in the hall.
"Dinner is served, sir. I have laid out your things," he said.
"Thanks, I can jump into them in three minutes," said Hardy, dashing upstairs.
A couple of minutes later there was a violent ringing of a bell, and Hardy in his shirt sleeves with dishevelled hair, stood at the door of his room.
"DID you ring, sir?" said the valet in that voice of respectful calm which never varied.
"Yes, come here; who has been in this room to-day?"
"The chambermaid, of course, sir."
"Yes, yes, of course; but who else?"
"I laid out your clothes, sir, in case you should arrive in time for dinner."
"No, no. I don't mean that sort of thing. Has anybody been here who has no occasion to come in the ordinary course of duty. Have there been any strangers in the house?"
"Not that I am aware of, sir."
"But are you certain?"
"I think it very unlikely, sir."
"Thank you, Davis, that will do," said Hardy.
The imperturbable manner of the man had its influence on Dick. It was impossible to be satisfactorily excited in face of those cold, deferential answers to his questions, but when Davis shut the door after him Hardy picked up his bag and threw it on the bed.
He examined it carefully with a look of perplexed doubt on his face. The false bottom was apparently just as he had left it, yet inside exactly in the same position as it ordinarily occupied was the pocket-book. He took it out, and, not-withstanding the bulging appearance it gave his coat, crammed it in the pocket.
"So sorry we did not wait for you, we had given you up," said Mr. Brand anticipating Hardy's apology by his own.
"You see I was right," said Mrs. Wynter-Smith, triumphantly.
Mr. Brand merely bowed and smiled. Hardy ineffectively tried to look unconcerned, and Nora Temperley blushed. This man could get so much meaning into a smile.
Later on Nora, after a chat with Hardy, contrived to engage Mrs. Wynter-Smith in an argument on a topic of dress, interesting only to the feminine mind.
"Come up to my room," whispered Hardy to Maxwell.
When they were inside, he closed the door and drew Clifford to the other end of the apartment.
"Have you noticed anything mysterious about this household?" he asked.
"No, it's too prosaic and proper for anything, according to my taste," said Maxwell. "But what is the trouble, old chap? You hardly spoke a word during dinner."
"This pocket-book," said Hardy, "I always carry with me. It is very seldom anywhere else but in my pocket. You saw me pick up my kit-bag when we came back after a search for the alleged burglar. As there wasn't room for it in my evening clothes I had left it in this bag, which has a false bottom. It was gone, and I naturally assumed that the burglar had taken it. Forbes Regan's hat was gone also, and that again seemed comparatively conclusive evidence that Forbes Regan was the burglar. I have had a lively encounter with that gentleman to-day, and I am bound to admit that he has come out a winner, but I'll tell you all about that directly. The immediate point of importance is, have you seen him or heard anything of him down here to-day?"
"No, I have heard nothing of his coming here. Then you see I have been out a good deal of the afternoon. But tell me the whole story; I am all at sea about the facts."
Hardy related the events as they occurred in London.
"It is, of course, just possible," he said, "that while I was locked up in his bathroom he might have motored down here, put back the book, and cleared off, but it seems an unlikely story, unless he has suborned some of the servants."
"But why, in any case, should he or anybody else who has taken the trouble to commit burglary in order to steal the pocket-book run the further risk of coming here to return it? You are sure the contents have been returned also?"
"Forbes Regan's motive is fairly clear. I knew him in Australia as Frederick Ramsden, a claim jumper and a card- sharper, who would stand a good chance of being shot at sight if he ventured back to certain parts. I threatened to charge him with stealing my note-book and rake up his past if he did not return it. Had he given it me back of course I should have had clear proof that he had stolen it. Now I cannot charge him, for I don't suppose for a moment my story would be believed."
"Well, I imagine there might be some difficulty in convincing a matter-of-fact British jury," remarked Maxwell.
"In other words, you have some doubt about it yourself?"
"To be quite honest, Dick, it is always possible that one may be deceived at a moment of excitement. Remember that you had a suspicion that the thief who went into your room would have this note-book as his objective point."
"And the thought so worked upon my brain at the instant that I suffered from a temporary delusion. Yes, I know that's a very natural supposition, consequently I shall have to let the matter drop. But, Cliff, old man, I am absolutely certain that pocket- book was not in this bag when we carne back from hunting the burglar last night, and I don't want you to say anything about what has just passed between us. The only other person to whom I have mentioned the subject is Brand, himself."
"And you will have to apologise to him?"
"Since I have stated that I have been robbed in his house, I suppose that would be the correct thing under ordinary circumstances, but the circumstances are not ordinary, and a secret shared by three people ceases to be a secret. Mr. Brand may have made inquiries among the servants, and he might think it his duty in that case to tell them the pocket-book has been found. I do not want the thief to know it has been found, consequently the obligations of good manners must give way to the demands of duty."
"Well, of course, you may rely on me to say nothing, but, speaking as an old friend, Dick, don't you think you are keeping me in the dark? There are so many things I don't understand."
"I rather expected you to say that, but we mustn't stay here any longer. I'll have a chat with you over a final pipe before we come to bed."
They went downstairs and found Nora still pursuing the argument with Mrs. Wynter-Smith. She was able to detach herself from the subject without undue haste as soon as Dick came into the room.
There was a sound of light music from the annexe, and Maxwell knew that Brand would be turning over the pages for Mabel behind the palms. The bright little ditties which Mabel Neville sang in her sweet natural voice were a contrast to the soulful melodies which Mr. Wynter-Smith gave them the other evening. No two women could be more unlike. In everything she did Mabel resembled England in spring time; Mrs. Wynter-Smith the gorgeous sunshine of a tropical summer.
In the course of the evening Mr. Brand sang to them in a powerful tenor voice, and again Maxwell found himself marvelling at the versatility of this self-confident person who always left the impression that one had not yet discovered his limitations. Maxwell noticed with resentment that even Mrs. Wynter-Smith took her eyes off him and leaned back to listen to her host.
Although the days of vigorous exercise had ceased with the departure of the shooting party, Mr. Brand, correct and faithful to country habits, again went to bed early. This was the signal for the ladies to retire also, and Maxwell strolled out with Clifford into the moon-light for a pipe.
"You are a little older than myself, Cliff," said Hardy, "and in former days you were accustomed to take the lead, but I want you for your own sake and for mine to put yourself under discipline. The rule of my profession, as you know, is that a man obeys and questions not. That is what I want you to do."
"Of course, if you tell me there is good reason," said Maxwell.
"There is excellent reason; I shall ask you perhaps to do things you do not understand. Explanations at a critical point may spoil everything. You know me well enough to be certain I shall not lead you out of your depth. Is it a bargain."
As Maxwell glanced at the profile of his friend with the moonbeams playing upon it, he saw there an alert eagerness which told him Dick Hardy had some serious purpose which, with the masterly way that made him an uncrowned king among his school fellows, he intended to achieve.
"Command me, Dick," he said. "You may have had many a follower more capable, but never one more willing."
"I was certain you would say that," said Hardy, "and now to business. To-morrow we go to town, and you take me to the house of Mr Shepherd. I failed to get in on my own when I called, but you must find some excuse."
Maxwell remembered the manuscripts. In the excitement of the last few days he had forgotten them till now. The following day, when the party left for London, Maxwell and Hardy accompanied them to Easton, and there saw them to Mrs. Wynter-Smith's motor.
A manservant not in livery answered the door at Mr. Shepherd's, and led the way to a large, substantially furnished room, with many shelves of heavy volumes.
The room looked out through French windows to a lawn surrounded by a wall. The apartment was arranged to accord with the tastes of a studious person. A huge arm-chair with a book- rest stood in such a position as to catch the left light by day, and was so constructed that it swung round towards the fire under a large electric lamp by night.
While Maxwell was casually noticing these things, Hardy ran his eyes quickly over the book-shelves. A set of volumes of bound manuscript especially attracted his attention. He took down one of them hurriedly, glanced over it, and replaced it with a gesture of disappointment just as the door opened.
The servant had come to say that Mr. Shepherd could not see Sir Clifford Maxwell now, but would be glad if he would leave the manuscript.
Previously schooled by Hardy, Maxwell said he had not the manuscript with him, but would bring them later in the evening, and he particularly wished to see Mr. Shepherd then, as he might be leaving town, and would probably be away for a very long time.
"Played into our hands beautifully," said Hardy, as they walked away. "It might have been difficult to make the appointment for to-night if the old man had turned up himself."
It was very late when they arrived, but Maxwell knew Mr. Shepherd usually sat on into the night, and he was not surprised at being shown into the library as a matter of course.
A square-built man of medium height and iron-grey hair rose as they entered the room.
"I was under the impression that Sir Clifford Maxwell wished to see me," he said, glancing disapprovingly at the two visitors.
"I am Sir Clifford Maxwell, and this is my friend, Mr. Hardy. We have another appointment together later, and I took the liberty of asking him in."
Mr. Shepherd bowed stiffly and proceeded to examine the manuscripts which Maxwell laid on the table with a long and complicated explanation prepared beforehand of certain difficulties which he affected to have discovered in the way of translation.
Unnoticed by either of them, Hardy rose from the chair to which he had been curtly motioned and went to the French window. He was listening intently while the other men were reading the manuscripts.
Softly opening the window, he sprang out with a revolver in his hand.
THE rush of cold air disturbed the two men at the table. They ran to the open window.
"Quick, open this," shouted Hardy, who was tugging at a door in the side of the wall with his left hand.
With the instinctive obedience which a word of command shouted by a man accustomed to rule others instills, Shepherd and Maxwell responded.
"Get out of the way, Maxwell, let him do it, he understands it," said Hardy.
Mr. Shepherd turned the spring lock and Hardy bolted through.
The door led into a side passage that opened at both ends. Hardy turned to the right, but came back a minute or two later.
"Just my luck," he said, "chose the wrong side, and he has got a start on me."
He slammed the door after him and passed through the French windows into the room, followed by the other two men. Mr. Shepherd had by this time recovered his cold composure.
"Perhaps, sir," he said, "you will be good enough to explain this extraordinary incident."
Hardy was biting his lips, either in anger or in pain. He held his right wrist tightly with his left hand.
"Do you mind picking up my revolver? It's out there on the lawn somewhere," he said to Maxwell.
"A revolver," said Mr. Shepherd in astonishment.
"Yes, sir, I presumed to act promptly, I think, in your interest, but unfortunately I was not successful."
"I do not understand," said Mr. Shepherd.
"While you were talking to Maxwell," said Hardy, "I heard an intruder stealing up to your window. I jumped out, intending to call upon him to surrender, but evidently he saw my shadow, and was ready for me. He disarmed me with as neat a blow on the wrist as any man could strike. Moreover, he had covered his retreat by leaving the door open. He was through it and slammed it in my face before I could grapple him—and you know the rest."
"The person was evidently here with an evil purpose, then," said Mr. Shepherd.
"Well, his conduct clearly indicated that he was up to no good. Thanks, Cliff, just drop that into my hip-pocket. I'm afraid I've interrupted you gentlemen," said Hardy.
"On the contrary," said Mr. Shepherd, "I have to thank you for your zeal on my behalf, and to express my regret that you should have suffered an injury."
"Oh, my wrist will be all right directly. If you happen to have any lint in the house, a tight bandage might do it good."
Mr. Shepherd went to a drawer and produced a travelling wallet with simple surgical appliances. He bound Hardy's wrist and pressed some refreshment upon him.
"With regard to the manuscripts," said Maxwell, "you will see that I was not able to get very far in the British Museum this afternoon, and I have been away from home since you very kindly sent them to me."
"Oh, it doesn't matter," said Mr. Shepherd, sweeping the documents into a drawer. "There is no particular hurry; you can get them again at your leisure and complete them if you are so disposed."
"But you have been so good to me that it seems hardly fair that I should leave your work unfinished," said Maxwell.
"Not good at all; it is a hobby of mine, and I wanted the work done. If you do not choose to undertake it now, it is quite possible I may get somebody else."
"I ought to mention to you," said Maxwell, "that my circumstances have changed since you sent the manuscript to me, and—"
"Work is no longer necessary. Well, don't drift into a life of idleness, young man, because you happen to be well off." He said this in a tone of finality, as though he were giving a hint that the interview was concluded.
"I don't think your uninvited guest will trouble you again to- night, Mr. Shepherd," said Hardy, with a jerk of his head towards the French window.
"If he does he will find little worth stealing," said Mr. Shepherd grimly. "Books are not marketable commodities; there are no ladies in this household, and consequently no jewellery."
"DID YOU EVER splice a rope?" asked Hardy, after he and Maxwell had walked along in silence for some time.
"No, never, but why ask me?" said Clifford.
"Because the work resembles the present problem. In order to splice a rope you have to interweave the strands, and when they are entangled you have to disentangle them before you can make any headway. That is just what is happening here. The strands are all mixed up."
"And old Shepherd is one of them?"
"I thought he was, and am still inclined to think so, but I cannot got hold of the other strand that ought to fit him."
"Wait a minute," said Maxwell suddenly, swinging Hardy round a corner, and then holding him by the arm.
Footsteps which had sounded on the pavement behind them as of a man walking at a leisurely pace quickened, and a person, who nearly cannoned against Maxwell, stepped out into the roadway. He walked on a few paces and then went more slowly.
Maxwell and Hardy resumed their walk, and Maxwell looked back several times.
"I thought that fellow was following us," he remarked.
"He was and is, although he is not going to let you catch him out a second time," replied Hardy. "He will be cursing himself for falling into that innocent little trap of yours."
"But what is his game? Is he one of your tangles?"
"No, my dear Cliff, you are the object of his attention. Apparently you were not aware of the fact that in one way or the other you have been under observation since that gentleman disturbed us at breakfast on the morning of my arrival."
"But this is outrageous."
"It is natural that you should think so, but different people look at things from different points of view. The man in the street, by his letters to the Press, is already asking why the police have not solved the mystery of Howard Bedford's disappearance, and is declaring that 'something ought to be done.' The something in this case means, of course, the arrest of somebody. The police are being put on their mettle, and until Howard Bedford is discovered, alive or dead, they will keep an eye on you."
"But is there no way of ending this intolerable strain?"
"Only by discovering Bedford, if alive, or his murderer, if dead. For these and other reasons I am anxious to find Forbes Regan."
"You suspect him?"
"If I can discover a motive it will not be a case of suspicion. Given a motive for getting a man out of the way, Forbes Regan would remove the obstacle, if he could do so with safety to himself, as readily as you would shoot an old horse."
"And you have no information of his whereabouts?"
"It is a thousand to one on his having weighed his anchor after he left me. If I had only known who the gentleman really was a few days earlier I should not have lost sight of him, and now let us go and hear what the police have found out about him."
The police had circulated a description of Forbes Regan as soon as Hardy put them on his track. They discovered that a man had actually booked a passage in the name of Forbes Regan on an ocean boat, leaving Southampton the previous evening, but a wireless message to the ship brought back the information that he had got off at Cherbourg with the intention, as he said, of making a call and proceeding by a later boat.
"That covers up his tracks for the time being," said Hardy. "He is in France or Spain or Portugal, or heaven knows where now."
"And what's the next thing to be done?" asked Maxwell.
"Better take a sea voyage. I can think best afloat," said Hardy.
"Sir Clifford Maxwell and myself," he added, turning to the inspector, "are thinking of joining a yachting cruise. Sir Clifford will want a valet; perhaps you can recommend a man to act in that capacity. His duties will be very light, and he need not have had any actual experience of the work."
"Oh, yes, I think we can manage that," said the inspector. "I will let you know to-morrow."
"I suppose that little arrangement of yours," remarked Maxwell, as they walked back to the hotel, "means that I am for all practical purposes a free man, but theoretically in custody."
"Under observation would perhaps be the correct term," replied Hardy. "You will find that they will send a man of tact, and nobody but ourselves will know he is not your valet, in the strict sense of the term. They know we are playing the game squarely with them which is all in your favour. Moreover, it is just possible that this man may be useful."
TWO DAYS later the party went aboard Mr. Edmond Brand's fine steam yacht.
The man who came to act as servant to Maxwell and Hardy jointly new his part well. A consultation between Hardy and the police resulted in the discovery of a member of the force who had served in the navy.
The one person not in the very best of spirits was Mabel Neville. She came on board with a halting step, as though half inclined to draw back at the last moment. Maxwell noticed this as he was standing at the gangway, but as soon as they were out at sea Mabel's vivacity as usual inspired and delighted the whole party.
They had lovely weather, and Mr. Brand was as perfect a host on his yacht as his country house. Steering due south, they came to a group of small islands which Hardy knew well. Putting in at one of them, Mr. Brand paid his respects to the authorities and expressed an intention of remaining there for a day or two.
The official circle of the island, consisting of one or two Spanish officers and civilians in charge of the cable standing, were delighted to see visitors. The ship was moored to the old fashioned landing pier and the members of the party roamed over the island at will.
Hardy remained on board when Mr. Brand called on the chief official, but when the others were exploring he made a special call by himself.
"The Navy must do the honours apart from civilians," he explained.
A comprehensive invitation from Mr. Brand to dine on board was accepted by the authorities with alacrity. Some of them spoke English; Mr. Brand and Maxwell were able to talk to the others in their own language.
It was a gay company that sat down to the excellently spread table in the main saloon. The stewards were experts, and the cook would have done justice to any first-class establishment.
Dinner was almost over, and conversation was at its height when Dick Hardy sat bolt upright with his head on one side. His practised ear had caught a familiar sound.
There was a swish as of something dropping into the water, and then a grating noise.
The whole company rose and followed Hardy, who had quietly but swiftly made his way towards the deck.
"THERE is no cause for alarm," said Hardy over his shoulder as he went up the cabin stairs.
The yacht by this time was swinging round with an easy movement. Dick knew without inquiry what had happened. She had broken her moorings and was caught in a strong current. He was tempted to forget the etiquette of the sea in his professional zeal, and was about to ask why in the name of the deities of the ocean something had not been done to avoid this, when a rope was flung, which fell short of the pier.
The tide was running fast, and the ship was completely under its power.
The visitors from the shore, although at first reassured by the knowledge that there was no immediate danger, gradually realised that they were drifting out to sea. They looked at each other with some suspicion; in the minds of one or two of them there was the thought that this might possibly be a case of kidnapping.
Mr. Brand, anticipating their thoughts, was already explaining to the head official that this was quite an accident and every effort would be made to rectify it as soon as possible.
Among the visitors was the gentleman who had control of the pier, and was dignified by the title of harbour-master. With some knowledge of the sea and of ships, he was able to understand what had happened, and was induced to believe it was a pure accident.
The party returned to the saloon, while Mr. Brand and the captain interviewed the chief engineer. The fires had been let down, the engines were silent, and it was impossible to get up steam at once to cope with the weight of the tide.
"It will be necessary," said Mr. Brand, explaining this to his guests, "to make the best of circumstances. We shall drift with the current until the engines are at work; meantime, may I beg of you to make yourselves as much at home here as you possibly can."
With his naval ideas of smartness, Hardy began to think, as the time went on, that a martinet was required in Mr. Brand's stokehold. They were a longer time over their work than would have been permitted in any ship of the British Navy.
The visitors from the island, with the Latin love of bright company, accentuated by banishment from the mainland, accepted the situation with cheerful philosophy, and once certain that they would return to their duties safely, were rather inclined to regard the accident us an intervention of Providence.
They sat on enjoying Mr. Brand's hospitality after the ladies had withdrawn to their cabins. Dick Hardy thought it desirable to go on deck for a while in order that he might duly report the state of the weather. At about the same time as he returned to the saloon Nora Temperley had just gone into her cabin, and was singing softly to his portrait on the little table, when a knock came to her door.
"Mabel," she exclaimed, "whatever is the matter? You look as miserable as I feel happy."
"Hush! Let me come in. I want to have a talk with you. Are you sure nobody can hear us?"
"Not unless we shout very loud; but, my dear Mabel, this is unlike you. Surely you have not been frightened by the trifling accident that has brought us out to sea. Dick assures me that there is nothing whatever the matter, and if the engineers would hurry up we could get back to the island, and in any case it need not concern us whether we are moving or moored to the pier. They can steer by hand, and they are keeping us true with the channel. You see I am already qualifying to be a sailor's wife."
"Nora, what does it feel like to be in love?" said Mabel, impulsively throwing her arms round Nora's neck.
"What an extraordinary question."
"Yes, but I really want to know, I am quite serious."
"Well, then, if you are serious it means that nothing else in the world matters and nobody else counts."
"Yes, but have you a consciousness of your own inferiority. Does it make you feel that the man has the power to dominate you? Do you want to escape, and yet in his presence are you overcome with a dread that any resolution you may make to say 'no' will be overcome?"
"Well, those certainly are not the symptoms," said Nora. "I afraid of Dick; why, I simply count the minutes when he is away from me. My only dread is for my own loneliness if and when he goes to sea again; but, Mabel, how on earth could so sensible a girl as you get these strange ideas into your head. What has happened? Come, tell me everything."
Mabel hesitated, and looked round as though frightened that somebody might be listening.
"Sit down like we used to at school," said Nora, "and talk to me like your old sweet self. Who is the villain that is persecuting you like this? If it is Clifford Maxwell I'll—"
"No, no, it is not Cliff."
"Then it is Mr. Brand. Oh, the over-bearing wretch."
"Hush! Not so loud. I—I did not mean to mention any names."
"But you don't suppose we are all blind, do you?—although I think there are blind people amongst us. Mr. Brand is one of those frightfully proper persons who make me feel inclined to tease them. I really believe, if Dick hadn't come down to Bewley when he did, I should have flirted with Brand for the mere pleasure of throwing him over."
"Oh, don't be frivolous, there's a dear," said Mabel; "do be serious."
"Fancy old Mabsie telling people to be serious," said Nora; "but really I'm sorry to see you troubled like this. You know I am. Why don't you throw him over, snub him, every time he seeks to be anything more than your host?"
"I have tried, Nora," Mabel said in a whisper, "but nothing will subdue him. You think he is a cold, prim person, but he has two sides to his nature. I know the other side. He has told me that he loves me, and he has told me that is my heart I love him, and there are times, Nora, when he almost makes me believe it."
'"Then he is making you believe what is not true. Mabel, you don't love this man, if you did you would not be talking to me like this. It would not be necessary for him to make you believe it, you would feel it in your own heart, and nothing that anybody else could say or do would make you love him one little bit less."
"No, I don't love him," said Mabel, speaking very slowly, "and yet—"
"And yet, what?"
"And yet, as I came on board this ship I had a presentiment that this voyage would be a crisis in my life."
"Yes, and it will be a crisis for the good, dear. I am certain of that. Now be brave and be true to yourself. I am not going to give you a lecture, but I am going to convert myself into a real saint with the power of performing miracles. I am going to give sight to the blind. I'm not going to say any more now about your troubles; you've just got to sit here, and consent to be bored while I talk to you about Dick."
The two girls sat together till the laughter in the saloon had died down, and when the ship was perfectly quiet Mabel stole back to her cabin.
The morning sun shone on the well, cleaned brass mountings of the yacht before her bows pointed towards the island. When steam had been got up it was found that something was wrong with the shaft. At first it would not work at all, then it went very slowly, and the captain decided that it would be desirable to get the ship moored again before attempting complete repair.
Dick Hardy and Sharp, the acting valet, were on deck very early, and when Max-well came up they were examining a coil of rope. The end of it appeared to have a special interest for them. Sharp was holding it on the top of the capstan and speaking in low tones.
"There is no doubt about it," said Dick, in reply to some remark of Sharp's, "the weight of the ship did not snap that line, nor was it rubbed through by friction. It started with a cut, and it has parted near the shore end."
"It is the same with the other moorings, sir," said Sharp, picking up a second rope.
"Well, don't say anything about it just now. It may be worth while finding out who did it, and why. We can discover all the more easily if nobody else is on the job."
By force of old habit, Sharp was about to salute his superior officer, but remembering his role, he threw down the rope and retired to the other side of the boat when Maxwell joined Hardy.
"Oh, will you take my compliments to Mr. Brand as soon as he is about," said Hardy, turning to Sharp, "and ask him if he can spare Davis to shave me whilst you are shaving Sir Clifford?"
"Ah, my dear Hardy," said Mr. Brand, coming on deck a few minutes later, "I got your message, but unfortunately I have just had to perform the difficult task of shaving myself. I gave my man leave to go ashore last night, and he had not returned when we drifted out to sea."
Sharp was standing a little distance away, awaiting further instructions.
"Oh, perhaps Cliff will let me have first turn with Sharp in that case," said Dick.
"Yes, to quote a hackneyed but historic phrase, Sir Clifford may well say 'your need is greater than mine,'" remarked Mr. Brand, with one of his cryptic smiles.
Dick's toilet occupied rather more time this morning than a sailor usually allocates for this purpose, and when he came out of his cabin he suggested to Maxwell that he should not keep Sharp too long.
The day was wearing on when they got alongside the pier, and after the ship was once more moored the chief engineer reported that the repairs might take several days.
Mr. Brand, with many apologies to the visitors for having detained them, ex-pressed the hope that he would have the pleasure of seeing them again. He urged them not to stand on formal invitations, but to make the ship their home while she was in their waters, and by the manner in which they received this suggestion it was fairly evident that they intended to comply with it.
Davis came on board with the same deferential air as though he had just arrived in answer to his master's bell.
"I hope you managed to get lodgings, Davis," said Mr. Brand, "and did not imagine we had marooned you."
"There was some little difficulty at first, sir, but everything was satisfactory at the conclusion," replied the valet.
"Invaluable man," said Brand to Hardy, when Davis went below. "Contrives to convey everything necessary in a few words."
"You would find it difficult to manage without him, I should think," replied Hardy. "You have had him a long time, I suppose?"
"Yes, yes, quite a long time. He was young enough to be adaptable. Adaptability is my test; I never inquire into antecedents or ask for references. They are always misleading."
A reposeful night was generally agreed to be desirable after the previous evening's excitement.
The following morning Sharp stepped quietly into Hardy's cabin and closed the door gently behind him.
Hardy smothered the morning greeting which was on his lips at a significant look from the man, who drew something from an inside pocket.
"DAVIS is in Mr. Brand's cabin, sir," said Sharp. "I went to his berth to borrow a strop, and took the liberty of looking at some of his razors. I think this one didn't get its edge taken off by shaving."
He produced from a stout leather case a weapon in the shape of an exceptionally strong razor. The blade was dull, as though it had been wiped without being washed.
"Careful, sir, don't disturb those bits of hemp in the shaft," said Sharp, as Hardy took the thing from him. "You will notice that it has been wiped up-wards and that little bit which has got into the hinge has not been disturbed."
"Just wait till I put it under the microscope," said Hardy.
Sharp pulled a small wad of rope end out of another pocket, and put it on the cabin washstand.
"That's from the rope that was cut," he said.
Hardy put this also under the microscope.
"Yes, that's fairly clear," he said, "the small bit of stuff in the razor shaft is unquestionably good hemp, if I know anything of ship's ropes; it is the same material as the hawser that let us loose the other night. We can both swear to it if necessary, and you had better return the razor in the case just as it is, exactly where you found it."
"I am taking the motor-launch to one of the little islands," said Mr. Brand at breakfast time. "I don't know if anybody would like to come with me. Mr. Hardy, are you interested in desolate spots of the ocean?"
"No. I don't think I will come, thanks," said Dick. "It'll be time enough for me to visit a lonely island when my shipmates mete out sailor's justice and maroon me on one."
"Well, if you find the main island more interesting, I have no doubt you will be able to pass the time till my return," replied Mr. Brand. "I am told that the island I am visiting has hardly sufficient of nature's blessings to feed a goat, and as I pride myself on the fact that I can produce as much to the acre at home as any estate in England yields, I am interested from an agricultural point of view in the contrast."
One of the officials arrived on board just before Mr. Brand left, offering to place his services at the disposal of any member of the party who cared to visit the most attractive spots of the main island. Mr. Brand whispered something to Mrs Wynter- Smith, who enthusiastically accepted on behalf of the whole party. She would hear no excuses; she did not wait for them, and with the other four she set out, under the guidance of their visitor.
They passed through a semblance of a village which was really a collection of small houses occupied by the officials. The most important building was the shed erected at the point where the cable touched the land. There was something in the nature of a restaurant, where the inhabitants whiled away a great part of their time drinking inferior wine and inventing subjects for discussion.
Their guide took them past the small plots of cultivated land into wild and gorgeous foliage. He talked enthusiastically, so far as his limited English would permit, at first to the whole party, then, as Nora and Hardy dropped behind, to the other three, and finally found himself addressing Mabel Neville—an arrangement which in no way wounded his vanity.
Maxwell and Mrs. Wynter-Smith were at one point walking together through a narrow path.
"I have been thinking, Sir Clifford," she said, "that you may have thought it strange that I have not renewed the conversation, or rather the particular topic of conversation, which we were having on the veranda the day after you came to Bewley."
"Oh, not at all," said Maxwell. "I'm afraid the busy time I had just immediately before we set sail almost led me to forget the subject. I believe you were warning me against somebody, I really forget whom."
"It was a general warning, but was in-tended to be a particular warning. You remember Mr. Forbes Regan interrupting us, and I was slightly embarrassed."
"Indeed," said Maxwell.
He was anxious not to admit the fact that he noticed how Regan had terrified her.
"The reason for my astonishment at his appearance," she said, "was that I had his name almost on my tongue. I particularly wanted to advise you not to cultivate his friendship."
"I can assure you that your warning was unnecessary," replied Maxwell. "Mr. Forbes Regan is about the last man with whom I would be likely to strike up a close acquaintanceship."
"But he used to visit you in your house in London."
"Oh, in the intolerable boredom of that chamber of despair, anything or anybody to relieve the monotony was sometimes welcome. He dropped in whenever he felt inclined, and—well, I tolerated him, that was all."
"Was he there often?"
"Now you mention it, his calls did become more frequent, and my reception of him in consequence became less cordial, but I do not think I am likely to see much of him in the future. Not so much, in fact, as I desire."
"Why?"
She clutched his arm with her hand as she said this, and from the tremor of her fingers Maxwell knew that she was labouring under excitement which she strove to conceal.
"Oh, I have one or two pointed questions to ask him which he may not be willing to answer," he retorted evasively.
Just in time he had remembered Hardy's warning not to talk about their search for Regan.
She loosened her hold of his arm and walked on silently for a few seconds. They were now quite out of sight of the others.
Again she halted, and with her soft, appealing eyes looked up into his face.
"Sir Clifford," she said in a tremulous voice, "you saved my life once. If I could only place all my trust in you, if I could tell you everything—everything."
Her ungloved hands were In such a position that he could not help taking them in his. She held him as though throwing herself upon him for help and support. He felt the blood coursing more swiftly through his own veins; he tried to think of something to say, but remained silent with his face close to hers.
"Some day, perhaps, I may be able to tell you my story," she said.
Still he did not answer. He stood there holding her hands and looking into her eyes, but something indefinable held back the words which most men would have spoken.
"Lunch!" shouted a piercing voice in the distance.
"Right-ho!" responded a deep bass from another direction.
Dick Hardy and Nora Temperley broke through the foliage into the path a little higher up. Maxwell and Mrs. Wynter-Smith followed them to a clearing round the trunk of a fallen tree, to which point, by a more direct route, the ship stewards, guided by an island servant, had brought baskets of provisions.
The party sat on the trunk of the tree, and a picturesque table of interwoven twigs was improvised for it.
While they were eating their guide pointed to the roof of a hut almost concealed among the bushes.
"That is what you in English call a hermit's retreat," he said. "The man who lives there is—what shall I say?"
"Eccentric," suggested Nora.
"Yes, that is the word. He collects stones and catches insects that fly, and beetles."
"And he lives there always by himself?" asked Mrs. Wynter- Smith.
"Sometimes he goes away by a ship that comes to trade and then returns. When he talks of travel he is interesting, very interesting."
"It might be the proper thing to call on him," suggested Hardy. "Is this one of his 'at home' days?"
The official smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
"He may see you; he may not. He is —pardon—yes—eccentric. I will inquire."
After lunch the self-constituted guide went over to the hut. The party followed him slowly and waited a little distance off as he knocked at the door.
He bowed graciously to the man who came out, but it was pretty obvious that he was not particularly welcome. Dick Hardy started suddenly as be watched the two men at the door of the hut. The man described as an eccentric hermit seemed strangely familiar to him. He wore a tangled beard which, had it been occasionally brushed, would be the exact counterpart of Mr. Samuel Graham's hirsute adornment. He had the same stolid cast of features, and he was evidently giving monosyllabic answers after the manner of the Ajax Company director.
He concluded the conversation by shutting the door, and the apologetic official returned to his, friends.
"This is not what you call the 'at home,'" he said. "The hermit, is busy with—with what he calls exper—exper—iment. Should you be pleased to come some other day, he will be pleased to show you his collection."
"What is his name, by the way," asked Hardy.
"It is an English name, Grand."
"Grant, you mean, I expect," said Hardy.
"Yes, that is it, Grand."
The stewards were having their lunch from the remains of the feast, and Sharp, who had helped to bring up the baskets, was with them. A slight inclination of Hardy's head when he caught the man's eye brought him to his side.
"Do you think the men can find their way back without that servant?" he asked.
"Oh, easily, sir; there is a man with a cart down in the road."
"Good, Well, keep him and stay yourself, when they have gone. You know your way down to the place where the cart is yourself?"
"Oh, yes, quite easily."
"Tell him to wait there for us."
"Cliff," said Hardy, drawing Maxwell aside, "I want you to lose me and take the ladies home. I have taken a fancy to this hermit gentleman, and want a word with him. I caught a glimpse of an interesting face at his window."
Dick had a few whispered words with Nora, and when the party set out for the return journey he dropped behind.
From a sheltered spot where he waited with Sharp he saw the hermit cautiously open the door and look down the path taken by the retreating party. They waited until he had returned to his hut and then quietly approached the door.
"Creep up to that window and see what happens, if you can, when I board this craft," said Hardy.
Sharp crept round the side of the house and posted himself under the window.
Without the ceremony of knocking, Dick lifted the latch and stopped boldly in.
A door banged at the other end of the hut, and the hermit, picking up a small sporting rifle, pointed it at Hardy's breast.
SHARP smashed the window, and the man with the gun, attracted by the noise, turned his head for an instant in that direction.
That instant was enough. The muzzle of the rifle was knocked upwards, and the bullet embedded itself in the ceiling. In another moment the gun itself was wrested out of his hands.
"How dare you, sir," he said, trembling with indignation. "Are you a common thief in the guise of a gentleman?"
"Oh, you speak English, do you," said Hardy; "that is fortunate, because now we can have a heart to heart chat. In the first place let me apologise for entering without knocking. No, don't try to pick up that rifle again or one of us might get hurt."
"I see you are aware, sir, that this is an unwarrantable intrusion. It seems that one cannot pursue one's studies of nature, even in this island, without interruptions from rude persons."
"Aren't you taking rather a severe view of things, sir?" said Hardy. "One would have thought you would have been glad to see a brother Englishman in this out of the way place. This is quite a cosy cabin of yours. Do you know I am very much interested in herbs and beetles and those kind of things. I am a bit of a traveller myself."
Hardy knew that Sharp would be making investigations from the outside, and his object was to keep the hermit in conversation until he invented some excuse for exploring the hut.
"If you will come at any other time and come in a gentlemanly manner you shall certainly have the welcome which it is the custom of one Britisher to extend to another," replied Mr. Grant.
"I am one of a party on a yacht, and we sail as soon us we have repaired a broken shaft," said Hardy, "therefore I presumed to call upon you. I can quite understand you did not want a crowd without notice, but my experience up to now has been that a brother British traveller is always welcomed anywhere at any time."
"Well, perhaps I was a bit hasty," said Grant, "pray take a seat and I will see if I can find you some Scotch whisky which you will not be likely to obtain anywhere else on the island."
He passed into the inner room without listening to Hardy's protest that he did not require any refreshment and returned with a bottle in his hand.
"That is my spare chamber," he said, "would you like to see it?"
He held the door open, and Hardy was disappointed to find that there was no one inside. The sound of the closing door as he came in had suggested other possibilities.
"Perhaps your friend outside would like a drink," said the hermit, "he has not been very kind to my window, but we will forget that."
He stepped to the door as he spoke and looked round the side of the house.
"There certainly was somebody there," he said, "possibly he will return. And so you have just recently come from England? What is the state of affairs there? Are people still devoting themselves to the vulgar pursuit of wealth instead of applying their minds to the glorious opportunities of nature?"
Hardy did not like the change of the man's attitude from surly resentment to geniality. It put him in the position of an honoured guest but it also gave the other person all the rights of a host. The man had accepted the position all too readily. He could not cross-examine him, and he had a strong suspicion that even if he could he would not get much out of him.
"By the by," he said, drawing a bow at a venture, "one reason for my presuming to intrude upon you was that you resemble an acquaintance of mine so closely that I thought you might be related to him; his name is Mr. Samuel Graham, a director and acting secretary of the Ajax Land Development Company."
"Graham," repeated the man, "it is quite a common name; you say he is the director of a company. I have little in common with such persons."
This shot had not gone home. Hardy during the conversation was taking comprehensive views of the room and got little satisfaction therefrom. Stuffed birds, beetles impaled on pins, fossils and dead leaves flattened out on card-. board appeared to be the principal furnishings.
"Ah, I think I hear your friend outside," said Grant, "won't he come in and have a drink."
"He is my manservant," said Hardy, "but I shall be obliged if you will offer him some refreshment. Come in, Sharp," he shouted.
Sharp entered and remained standing while Mr. Grant poured him out some whisky.
"And now that you are here, I must show you some of my treasures," said Grant.
He brought out several cases and proceeded at great length to explain their contents. Sharp several times tried to catch Hardy's eye but their enthusiastic host always got between them.
"One does not often get the opportunity here of talking to so appreciative an audience," he said, as he reeled off his scientific explanations of the various specimens upon the walls and in the cases.
Hardy assured him that he was deeply interested and suggested mildly that he had occupied enough of his time.
"Oh, you must have one more drink to dear old Britain," said Grant, "with all her faults she is our devoted mother, her one curse is money, her one salvation will be the pursuit of knowledge."
At last they managed to tear themselves away. Mr. Grant insisted on showing them the path down to the primitive roadway, where a servant, in spite of Sharp's generous bribe and the promise of future reward, was growing impatient.
Hardy spoke to him in English, and he shook his head.
"Ah, well, I suppose he can show us the way home by signs," he said, turning to Mr. Grant. "Well, good-bye, sir, I must again apologise for my intrusion, and thank you very much for an exceedingly pleasant time."
"We haven't got much change there, Sharp," said Hardy, when they were alone with the island servant, who walked a few paces ahead.
"Not from the bugs and the beetles, sir," replied Sharp, "but It strikes me the gentleman is not quite so simple as he wants to make out."
"That was just my impression, but what happened outside?"
"I'm sorry to say, sir, the real fox broke cover, and got away. When I saw that you had got your man disarmed I slipped round to see what was happening on the other side. I just got one good look at the man who came through the other window. I went for him, but he was too quick for me. Them ferns and bramble bushes knock Hampstead Heath into fits. I tramped all round but he knew his way better than I did, though he's there somewhere now."
"And what was he like?"
"He had got a stubbly beard just beginning to grow, but unless I'm very much mistaken it was him as came to the station more than once to know if anything had been heard about Mr. Howard Bedford."
"Then it is Forbes Regan?" said Hardy eagerly.
"That's the man, sir. I would have given something to have got one finger on him before he bolted."
"But he is on the island: we'll run a dragnet over it," said Hardy triumphantly. "There is only one way of escape, and he can't swim to the mainland."
When he got back to the yacht, Hardy sought Mr. Brand. "I want to ask a favour of you," he said.
"It is granted at once, Mr. Hardy."
"I want to be allowed to use your wireless apparatus."
"My dear Hardy, do you call that a favour? Why, the wireless is here for your use and for the use of everybody on board. Do everything that Mr. Hardy tells you and give him your very best attention," he said to the operator as he showed Hardy into the Marconigraph room.
In a very little time they picked up a British gunboat. Hardy spoke to them in a cipher and they replied that they were making for the island.
A little while later he noticed Davis crossing the gangway. Sharp had seen him also.
"Leave ashore, sir!" he said stepping up to Hardy.
"Yes," replied Hardy, "I'll make it right with Sir Clifford; I shan't want you for the rest of the day, and I don't suppose he will."
Mr. Brand, who was sitting on a deck chair, motioned to one of the sailors.
"Go after Davis," he said, "and tell him to look out for black cigars."
"I am rather fond of collecting native luxuries," he said to Hardy. "They have a black cigar here which has a peculiar flavour of its own. I trust, by the way, you had an interesting ramble to-day."
"Oh, quite interesting. We lighted upon an English hermit living in solitude in the island."
"Yes, so I understand."
"I'm afraid he was not particularly hospitable."
Hardy did not relate his own experiences after he left the party. He did not want the subject to be discussed on the yacht and overheard by the crew.
"Reverting to home affairs for the moment," said Mr. Brand casually, "I forgot to ask you whether you have any further information to justify your suspicion that Mr. Forbes Regan broke into my house."
"Well, I decided to let the matter drop," said Hardy. "I presume you have no objection, although of course it was your house and my property was there accidentally."
"Personally, I have no desire to take any further stops in the matter, and I assumed from the fact that you did not mention the matter to me again after you left for London the morning after the burglary that you also had decided not to proceed further."
"I am rather interested," said Hardy, "in obtaining some further information concerning Mr. Forbes Regan."
"I am afraid I cannot supply it," said Mr. Brand. "I have for a long time been dissatisfied with him as a partner. His business capacity was sound, but when he commenced to presume upon our business relations I was much annoyed. I fear he has fallen into dissipated habits, that is the only explanation for the scene you witnessed on the motor car. It is just possible, too, that in a drunken freak he may have broken into my house. He was smarting under the indignity of being turned away when he called, and under the influence of liquor may have thought that an ingenious method of annoying me."
"You have heard nothing of him since?"
"You heard me send an instruction over the telephone; that was my last direct message to him. He bungled the business badly, possibly his head was too muddled with dissipation. The company of which I am chairman is a private company. I consented to invest some-thing in it on certain conditions, one of which enabled me with the assent of my remaining co-director to remove Mr. Regan from the board. We passed a re-solution to that effect just before I left London, and I have no doubt it has been communicated to him."
"You are in communication by your wireless instrument with London, of course. Have you heard from Mr. Graham whether the resolution has taken effect?"
"That is unnecessary," said Mr. Brand in his quiet confident tone. "Mr. Graham knows that when I insist on a resolution it has to be put into effect; I leave details to him. I regard my yacht as a sanctuary from which business matters are excluded, and Mr. Graham would be unlikely to communicate with me."
Accepting the hint, Hardy changed the subject. They talked for a long time on topics connected with the sea and were about to go down to their cabins to dress for dinner, when they were startled by loud shouting on the island.
An excited man, followed by a crowd, ran on to the pier.
THE advance guard of the crowd had come to announce with profuse apologies that a man from the yacht was injured. A few minutes later a primitive stretcher was brought across the gangway bearing the man Sharp in a semi-conscious condition.
Several people all at once tried to explain what was the matter and how it happened. Mr. Brand with his accustomed faculty for quiet domination silenced them and the bearers carried the man below.
Hardy, with the versatility of the handy man, possessed a rough knowledge of surgery. He saw that the poor fellow was stunned, but there were no wounds and his condition was not dangerous.
He had received a nasty blow on the head, but there was no outward evidence of concussion.
There was a medicine chest on board, and from it Dick obtained restoratives.
Gradually Sharp recovered his senses. He passed his hand several times over his forehead and tried to get up.
"Keep quiet," said Hardy "I'll just tell them you're all right and Mr. Brand will then be able to get rid of that cackling crowd."
When he returned to the cabin Sharp was sitting on the side of the bed with a disgusted look upon his face.
"I'm very sorry, sir," he said, "I ought to know how to keep my eyes open by this time."
"That's all right, Sharp, accidents will happen, did the other man get his blow in first? It's pretty certain he did or he would have been laid out instead of you."
"It wasn't a man at all, sir, and that's the trouble. Nobody will believe it wasn't an accident."
"Well, are you sufficiently bucked up to tell me what happened?"
"It's very simple, sir; you know why I went ashore."
"Yes, yes, of course. I twigged Mr. Davis on the move and it was quite smart of you to get on his track at once."
"Well, when he got off the pier, he was making straight for the country. I kept in his wake. A man from the ship passed me and caught up on him. They had a word or two together and then Davis changed his course. He made for the village and dropped into that place in the middle, that we should call the pub. I think he had seen me when he turned; at all events, he didn't seem surprised when I followed him into the pub."
"Oh, nothing surprises that man," remarked Hardy.
"He called for some wine and asked me to join him. He is not the sort of person I drink with by choice, but I let him buy me a drink and stood him another—and rotten stuff it was too—then he began to look at some cigars, but I preferred a pipe. There was nobody else in the place except our two selves; we sat there talking and smoking, leastways I smoked, he put his cigars in his pocket."
"Yes, he bought them for his master. That was what the sailor was sent to tell him."
"He explained that to me, and talked a lot about his master's ways. I could see he wanted me to talk about you and Sir Clifford, and I played up to him a bit. We were sitting in a sort of inside room and he went out, as I thought, to look for the landlord or somebody about some more drinks. He went through a side door; I sat down for some while and then thought it was time to get a move on. I pushed open the side door and saw that it led out through a passage into the open. Just then I heard something shifting above the doorway and before I had time to got out of the way I felt like I did once when a man in a scrap, when I was on street duty, got hold of my baton and landed me one."
"Yes, I heard the proprietor of the place explaining when I went up on deck that a little untapped barrel of spirits on a shelf above the door in the passage had fallen down. He was very apologetic and said he did not know how it happened."
"No, but I think I do," said Sharp. "It was trigged to fall when the door opened. I have seen that trick played before."
"I think it's very probable you're right, but what has become of Davis?"
"That's the trouble, wherever he was going, he managed to get rid of me."
"Well, it can't be helped now, my lad, so don't worry. If he did play you this low game you will have a chance some day of getting your own back. You may think yourself lucky that the round of the keg and not the edge hit you."
Nothing could be more genuine, outwardly, at all events, than the astonishment of Davis when he arrived on board. He explained that he was not satisfied with the cigars at the restaurant, and that he had been given to understand there were others to be obtained at a small store. He produced evidence in support of this in the shape of a bundle of cigars blacker than those purchased at the inn.
"But did you not suggest to Sharp that he might care to walk over to the store with you," asked Mr. Brand.
"I thought, sir, he would prefer to enjoy his pipe, and as he had come ashore alone I did not desire to thrust my company upon him."
"The one fault about Davis," observed Mr. Brand, "is that he will not take the initiative. If your men had suggested a walk he would have fallen in with it readily. He is such a perfect valet that he awaits instructions even from his equals."
Davis had gone below to see Sharp. Hardy accepted Mr. Brand's explanation without comment.
Down below Davis was expressing his deep sympathy with Sharp. After purchasing his second batch of cigars, he said he had taken a walk into the country and was not aware until he returned of the sad accident that had befallen his friend.
Sharp refused all his offers to help him in his work or otherwise, and went on deck. He took a seat at the forecastle end of the yacht and clearly intimated that he wanted to be alone.
"Well, I suppose you didn't get anything out of him," remarked Hardy, strolling up to that part of the ship.
"To tell the truth, sir, I felt more like hitting him than talking to him, when he slobbered over me in that mock-gentleman way of his. I never could stand a man who is always trying to talk like his master."
Hardy looked carefully round. There was nobody else within earshot.
"I have been thinking," he said, in a low tone, "what we are to do about Regan. I have spoken to a gunboat: she will be here to-morrow, of course, they can do nothing without the consent of the authorities. We have no extradition warrant, if we could entice him out to sea in any way we would make our own law, but you have had something to do with shore law since you left the service, Sharp—"
"Not left the service, sir, still on the reserve, beg your pardon," interpolated Sharp.
"Oh, I'm sorry just a slip of the tongue. I'm glad to know you are still proud of us, but imagine yourself a long-shore lawyer for the moment."
"If I am certain the man is Mr. Forbes Regan," said Sharp, "I'll find a way of charging him so that the authorities will hold him till we get in touch with headquarters at home. And if I might respectfully say so, sir, I think you and the commander of the gunboat between you ought to be able to get them to send him on board, and once on board—"
"You can trust the officers of His Majesty's Navy, you think? Well, we must first catch the hare. To-morrow we will get on the scent and stick to it. You had better turn in now and get some rest."
Hardy went aft where the other members of the party were enjoying the soft night air.
Mr. Brand and Mabel were sitting together. Mrs. Wynter-Smith was talking very enthusiastically and very fast to Maxwell and Nora Temperley. Nora was listening with well-bred impatience and making furtive efforts to get away, but each time she moved Mrs. Wynter-Smith addressed a question directly to her.
"And now I must not detain you any longer," he said, as Hardy approached him.
The hint was so directed that Nora could only laugh and move off with Dick to a couple of chairs at the other side of the deck.
"I thought you were going to join up the party. You sent me away for that purpose," whispered Hardy.
"I was," said Nora, "but at least two members of the party conspired against me."
"But what is the game, Nora?"
"Well, I can't explain exactly even to you, Dick," she replied, "but if you get a chance of keeping Mabel Neville and Mr. Brand apart, don't miss it."
"Oh, I say, but I can't be butting in on another man when I want everybody else to play the game with me," he said, slipping his arm round her waist.
BRAND and Mabel were sitting beside the taffrail sheltered by one of the funnels. By a series of dexterous movements he contrived to get the chairs in such a position that they were out of sight of the rest of the party.
"Yes." he was saying, "it was quite interesting to watch the waves beating on that barren rock and to see the wild flowers peeping out of the crevices where they had struggled for existence in the tiniest beds of earth, but it grew very lonely as the day went on. I was thinking of this other island and somebody here."
Mabel made a feeble effort to divert the conversation into a narrative of her visit to the island with the rest of the party. She felt more terrified than ever of Mr. Brand to-night.
"To be away from you even for a day," he said, "has become a purgatory to me. I never thought, Mabel, until I met you, that any earthly influence could absorb my whole life, my whole soul—but you are not like earthly beings. You are far above them."
"I—wish you would not say those things Mr. Brand. They sound to me almost blasphemous. I am simply an English girl; I have been accustomed to simple ways and simple speech."
"You have been accustomed, Mabel, to the silly talk of boys and the vanities of very young men. I will teach you what a man's love is."
"A man's love should be—" she began in a tone of reproach, and then further words failed her.
"Something which a woman may accept or reject by a mere look or cross word. You are mistaken, Mabel, that is love as it is known to the people who are mated by society women and married to accord with the conventions."
"No, no, I don't mean that: I mean that a man should not bully a woman."
She was surprised at her own courage; she had bought the words out in a rush, and for the moment they gave her a sense of security.
She rose from her chair as an indication that the conversation was ended. Gently but very firmly he caught her hand.
"Mabel," he said, "you must listen to me. I should never bully any woman, much less you, but I want you to know and understand that there is a love for you within me which nothing will ever quench. Such love as that lives on though wounded or despised. I have never yet failed in anything I have under-taken with my whole heart, and now when all my highest ambitions are as nothing compared with this one thing I desire, I know I shall win. Mabel, it is my fate that I should love you, and something tells me it is your fate that you should love me."
She tried to draw her hand away, but he threw his arm around her, pressed her face to his, and smothered her protests in passionate, burning kisses.
"YOU have no right to do that." said Mabel, when at last she freed herself. "What if I called out to my friends and appealed to one of them to thrash you for insulting a lady!"
"You will not cry out, Mabel," he said. "You will forgive me because you know that it is not an insult but a tribute to the love which you yourself have inspired."
She sank back in the chair and covered her face with her hands. The strong will upon which she had hitherto prided her- self must be broken when she could sit there and not tell this man she hated him.
"You will forgive me I know," he repeated, in soft, soothing tones. "I apologise humbly, Mabel, I was for the moment the mere creature of my all absorbing love. If I have really offended you I am very deeply sorry."
Mabel hardly knew whether he was more dangerous in this gentle winning mood than in the passionate outburst of a few moments ago. Then he threatened her, now he appealed to her as a suppliant. From one phase to the other be battled for his prize with every weapon that has won the heart of woman down through the ages. She knew it was true when he told her this was a strong man's love, and what terrified her most was the knowledge that despite herself she admired him. His indomitable determination appealed to her own latent respect for power inherited from generations of men who ruled their fellows.
Now that the manner of his love-making had changed he knew when to stop.
"You will love me in time. You love me now, although as yet you do not know it," he said. "I will be patient, but I shall never surrender."
He rose from his chair as he spoke and looked over the taffrail upon the placid sea.
"Shall we take a walk?" he said, turning round and speaking in ordinary tones.
Gladly she accepted the suggestion. They strolled along the deck together. Nora Temperley and Dick Hardy were away in the bows and Mrs. Wynter-Smith had taken Maxwell to the other end of the ship. Mabel knew and felt glad to know that not a word of what had passed between them had been overheard.
In her cabin later on she cried herself to sleep. She wanted to run to Nora and confide in her, but she dared not trust herself to-night to talk of what had happened.
Nora in her cabin only wished that the evening had been longer and went to sleep hoping that morning would soon dawn.
The only sleepless man on board, so he thought, was Clifford Maxwell. The acquisition of his wealth had not brought him the happiness which he at first expected. In his dismal room he had pictured to himself what life would be when once more he possessed the means to enjoy it. Now there was something lacking which he could not define, some blank which he could not fill.
He pushed open his cabin door to create a better draught of air from the port-hole.
The sound of footsteps in the corridor attracted his attention, and as he stepped out he saw Davis go into Mr. Brand's cabin.
"There is another man, and he also is rich, restless to- night," he muttered in consoling tones to himself.
Having flushed his cabin he threw him-self on the bed in another effort to sleep. He did not know how long he had been there when he heard a faint sound as of something disturbing the water. Putting his head through the porthole he saw a man stepping off the ladder into the motor launch which was pushed slowly off and then glided gracefully away from the ship.
The machinery of the boat was perfect. It moved with the minimum of noise and the slight thuds soon faded into silence as the boat disappeared into the darkness.
Maxwell was uncertain whether it was his business to make inquiries; he assumed from the fact that the man got off the ship that he was an unauthorised person. Nobody from the shore was likely to steal the boat in that way; a thief would have come out in another boat and tugged it. Then he remembered that he had seen Davis go into Mr. Brand's cabin. He walked a few paces along the corridor and heard Mr. Brand's voice talking to his valet.
He must have heard the boat go off: his porthole was nearer the ladder. If the owner was satisfied that all was well, why should anybody else worry.
Inclination thus according with reason, Maxwell returned to bed, and this time went off to sleep.
The next morning the launch was floating beside the yacht as usual, and he forgot the incident.
The gunboat which Hardy had picked up with the wireless had arrived within the territorial waters during the night and was riding at anchor. Hardy put off to her bearing an invitation from Mr. Brand to the ward-room mess. He had a long consultation with the commander, who sent a lieutenant ashore with him to interview the official who exercised the functions pertaining to a Governor.
This gentleman remembered that a stranger had arrived at the island on one of the boats which came from the main-land. It was understood that he departed with the next boat, but perhaps he had not done so, although It would be strange if he had not been seen on the island since. He had said that he was travelling to out-of-the-way places for his health. If they were anxious to find him, every facility would be given them.
"It is possible," said Hardy, "that he may have got lost in the interior of the island. The paths are difficult to find. We should not have been able to explore them had it not been for the kindness and guidance of your friend who escorted us yesterday."
"Oh, if you fear he is in trouble, by all means let us search for him, but I must tell you that he should not be here. Strangers on this island must register themselves if they are remaining for more than three days. He should have gone back by the boat."
This opened up new possibilities to Hardy.
"He has broken the law, then," he said. "What is the penalty?"
"He is liable to be deported, to be called upon to leave the island."
"And if he does not go of his own free will?"
"We place him by force on one of our own country's ships, or any ship that will take him."
"If I may say so," said Hardy, "you are quite wise in this case and the British warship will relieve you of this man. He is not a desirable person."
"As your staff is not a large one, will you permit us to lend you some men," said the lieutenant. "If we are to take the man off your hands we must have him delivered to us quickly because we are under orders, and the more people en-gaged in the search, the more likely we are to find him quickly."
The Governor was only too delighted to accept the suggestion. So soon as the man came he would be pleased to place guides at their disposal.
"The fates are working for us up to now," remarked Hardy to the lieutenant as they were going back to the gunboat.
When they arrived on board, the commander met Hardy with a serious look on his sunburnt face, and invited him to his private cabin.
"We have intercepted a wireless in cipher for you," he said, spreading a form on the table.
Hardy read it and folded it up.
"They are naturally growing anxious," he said, as he put the paper in his pocket. "I was anxious myself and that was why I spoke to you. If we can collar the man I'm after, I think it quite possible I may begin to see daylight. I assume you took it for granted I was on something more than ordinary policeman's, work."
"Well, what do you want us to do?"
"The person who occupies the position of acting Governor of the main island has willingly fallen in with our suggestion that we should hunt out Forbes Regan, as he is known in England. When we have caught the man, he intends to deport him to this ship, and if he be Forbes Regan, there may be interesting revelations."
"You will want a landing party then to begin with. Are the crew of the yacht any good?"
"I don't want any of the crew of the yacht; I don't want anybody on the yacht to know what we are doing. You have an invitation from Mr. Brand: I trust you will not accept it. Make any excuse, but keep the yacht and this ship severely apart."
"What is the matter with the yacht, then? The owner is a substantial man of good family, isn't he?"
"Yes, the owner, so far as I know, is all right, but there are people on board whom I do not trust, and the trouble is I am not exactly sure who is who. I am certain, however, that a whisper in any part of the yacht will travel, and on its voyage is sure to get to the wrong party."
The commander sent a courteous message to Mr. Brand, thanking him for his proffered hospitality, but declining it on the ground that his officers were taking advantage of the gunboat being at anchor for special drill.
The acting Governor of the island had come out to the ship in his official boat. It travelled at a slower pace than the regulation Admiralty launch, and he was just arriving on board when the commander and Hardy concluded their council of war.
He was highly gratified with the honours accorded him as the representative of a friendly Power, when he stepped on board, and readily fell in with the suggestion that nothing should be said to any other person about the work in hand until the party from the ship had commenced their search.
When a couple of boatloads of bluejackets escorted his boat back to the island, the people on the yacht imagined this to be a special act of grace in his honour.
The Jacks were marched through the village to the delight of the minor officials and their families. When they got to the outskirts they spread their ranks and trampled through the under- wood, followed by the islanders.
Every by-path was examined. The little island had never in its existence been so completely patrolled. It was tolerably certain that any person in hiding would either have to retreat before them or be discovered.
They mounted up to within a few hundred yards of the spot where lunch had been served the day before.
Hardy halted them here and asked that the islanders should be kept at a distance. He then spread out his bluejackets in a wide circle with Mr. Grant's hut as the central point.
This was the only place where their man would find shelter and rest. It was fairly certain that he would return there. Mr. Grant, no doubt, had parted with Hardy the previous afternoon under the impression that his uninvited visitor from the yacht had been effectively bluffed.
The circle grew smaller till the hut was completely surrounded.
They closed slowly on it. When Hardy stepped out of the brushwood on to the small clearing immediately in front, the door was suddenly thrown open.
THE ragged, bearded man stood in the doorway watching the advancing sailors with a cynical smile on his face. Dick Hardy had an unpleasant feeling that the person was about to score.
He pushed forward the official representing the island authorities to open the argument.
This gentleman explained that there was reason to suppose a stranger who had failed to register himself was on the island, and that he had last been seen in the neighbourhood of this house.
"And so you have brought other strangers to invade my territory for which I pay the authorities."
"We have no wish to inconvenience or to annoy so amiable a friend as Mr. Grant," replied the official, "but the law must be obeyed."
This conversation took place in Spanish, and Dick Hardy could only judge from the gestures of the two men that in another minute the official would be retiring with apologies to Mr. Grant for disturbing him. He made up his mind that he must run the risk of offending the local dignitary by taking the matter into his own hands.
"The fact is, Mr. Grant," he said, stepping forward, "we have reason to suppose that a man whose presence is desired for the purpose of certain investigations on board his Britannic Majesty's ship, now riding at anchor off the island, is, or has been, your guest. As this gentleman has told you, he is breaking the law of the island by failing to register himself. Well, that is a matter you will settle with them, but as no doubt you still remain and desire to remain a British subject, we must ask your loyal assistance in that capacity."
"And on what ground, may I ask, do you claim my assistance? Have you a search warrant for my house? Have you any warrant from a lawfully constituted authority other than that which you assume yourself?"
Hardy was not in naval uniform, and to all outward appearances counted no more than a civilian. Although of superior rank to the officer in charge of the men from the gunboat, he stepped aside and intimated by a nod that Lieutenant Yorke should assert his authority.
"The fact is," said the lieutenant, "I am commanded to give every assistance to the authorities in the arrest of a man supposed to be a British subject whom the authorities desire to hand over for safe conduct to British territory. If the man is all right, apart from his contempt of the law of this island, he has nothing to fear from us, so if he is a friend of yours, hand him over, because, I may tell you, we intend to find him."
"If you are particularly anxious to meet the gentleman, I can only wish you success in your search for him," replied Mr. Grant, stroking his tangled beard. "But I still fail to see why I should be drawn into this affair at all. True, I am a British subject, but I have no interest whatever in political affairs. I am a simple student of nature—of every kind of nature except human nature which is in these days—unreal—I come to this quiet island to be away from the quarrels and strife of other men, and it seems that if I so far forget my own desires as to show the slightest hospitality to a passing traveller, all other travellers treat me as an enemy. Experiences such as this only convince me that I should be wiser if I kept myself sternly aloof from the affairs of men."
"You admit, then, that there was a man here when I called yesterday," said Hardy.
"I am not bound to admit anything," replied Grant. "But if it can give you any satisfaction, you were not my first visitor yesterday."
"Then why did you let the other man go as soon as I came?"
"Let him go! Do you not understand that my one desire is to be alone, and if an intruder desires to go, I should be the last to detain him."
He said this with a significant bow.
"But, hang it all, man, you know the other fellow, to put it in plain English, bolted. If his relations with you were perfectly innocent, why should he clear out as soon as I appear, and why should you have presented a gun at me?"
"The manner of his departure interested me far less than the fact that he had gone, and I have yet to learn that an Englishman is not permitted to defend his own house when a person breaks into it without even the courtesy of knocking."
Hardy felt that the argument was going against him, yet he had no intention of retiring. He was wondering what to say next, when the owner of the hut settled it for him.
"Perhaps you would like to come in again," said Grant. "You appear to be in some doubt as to whether the man really did go. It is possible you may find him, concealed somewhere under a case of stuffed birds or dried beetles. You had better bring your whole bodyguard in, inasmuch as it seems to be an accepted principle of law and good manners since I left England that a man's house is not his own. By all means make every use of the new order of things."
He stood aside and held the door open invitingly.
The island official and Hardy entered; Lieutenant Yorke gave a command in a low tone to his warrant officer and followed. They passed through the general living room to the room beyond. There was no trace of any other in-habitant of the cottage The island official looked at Hardy and shrugged his shoulders.
"May I offer you some refreshment?" said Grant. "I am sorry my commissariat department is not sufficiently extensive to include the whole of your numerous staff outside."
"Not for me," said Lieutenant Yorke, as Mr. Grant produced his whisky bottle. "I do not let my men drink on duty and I set the example myself."
Hardy also declined, and the official whose taste was sweet wine, rather than alien spirits, smilingly turned away from the bottle.
"At least I may offer you a cigarette," said Grant, producing a box. This the official accepted and the other two men also helped themselves from the box which Mr. Grant held out.
Hardy struck a match and handed it round. He lit his own cigarette last and threw the wax vesta into the fireplace. As it burnt up brightly in its last flicker something caught his eye.
"I say, Yorke," he said, "since we have failed to find our man, perhaps Mr. Grant will excuse our intrusion and I should very much like you to see those excellent specimens of the British butterfly compared with the insects of the same tribe found on this island. They will remind you of home, old chap."
He pointed to a case at the other end of the room, contriving to kick Yorke on the foot as he did so.
The naval officer went towards the case and bending over it, proceeded to describe the British butterflies—describing each one wrongly and thus bringing Mr. Grant into an animated discussion of the points about their wings and other peculiarities. Hardy emptied the contents of a two ounce tin of tobacco into his pocket, and, while Grant's back was turned, carefully lifted a piece of charred paper, with one end still unburnt, into the tin box which he closed and slipped into his pocket.
A few minutes later, Mr. Grant was again left to his much prized solitude.
"Quite sure nobody has come out of the house since we came up?" said Lieutenant Yorke, in a low tone to the warrant officer.
"Absolutely certain, sir. No living thing, not so much as a rat, could have got through the cordon at any point."
The search party continued its march through the wood till it came to the dip down over bare country to the sea. Hardy and the lieutenant swept the shore through their powerful ship's glasses, but no trace of a human being was to be seen. This side of the island was uninhabited. The little colony on the fertile plain near the pier had no interest in it.
They returned home by the shortest path, and on the way. Hardy carefully questioned the official as to the means of exit from the far part of the island.
Nobody lived there, he said, and there were no boats kept there. The shore was rocky, and it was difficult to land from even small craft. He was sure nobody had put off from the pier through the night. There were very few boats at all, and they belonged to the Government. They had no fishermen on the island; there would be no sale for their fish. The officials and their servants could easily catch more fish than they required by taking them out of the pools among the rocks when the tide receded.
"The fellow must have crept into a hole somewhere," said Hardy, as he concluded the narrative of their expedition to the commander of the gunboat. "He can't get off the island if we hang on."
"Yes, but I cannot keep the ship here indefinitely, on the off chance of catching a person whom you wish to cross-examine," said the commander. "I am off my course here as it is, and I must get back to my station unless I get orders from the Admiral."
Hardy knew he had not sufficiently strong a case to justify this, and he regretfully admitted that the commander's duty would be to weigh his anchor the following day.
Arranging to go aboard again in the early morning he went back to the yacht.
"Been spending a pleasant day with your confrères?" observed Mr. Brand, with a genial smile as Hardy stepped aboard. "There's a strong kinship between fellow members of all professions in spite of all their professed desire to avoid shop at holiday times."
Hardy laughingly accepted this interpretation of his day's outing, and Mr. Brand made no further allusion to it.
When Hardy went down to his cabin, Sharp, after allowing a short interval to elapse, knocked at the door to ask if he required anything.
"Sorry I could not take you with me, Sharp," he said, when the door was closed. "It was necessary to cut off all communication with the yacht. You have had some experience I suppose, of reading writing on burnt paper."
"Yes, sir, if it isn't ground up into ashes," replied Sharp.
"Then look at this," said Hardy, opening the tobacco box.
Sharp delicately handled the charred paper, and, under careful observation, a few words showed out white on the black surface. They were written in a printed hand, and such of them as were visible were easily read.
Hardy copied them and looked at them with a puzzled air.
"It's a strange message to send to a man who professes to be a hermit, but it means nothing, so far as one can judge," he said. "But there is this to be explained," he added, pointing to a small embossed mark on the unburnt paper.
"THIS is what caught my eye when I bent over the burnt paper first, in the hut," said Hardy. "I had a notion I had seen it before, and now I am certain. Do you recognise it?"
Sharp examined the paper for a few moments.
"Yes, that is Mr. Brand's crest right enough, sir," he said. "There's some paper like that on board this yacht and there can be little doubt that the message you picked up came from here."
"And who has sent it? Who has the run of Mr. Brand's stationery? You will notice it is not the ordinary paper with the name of the yacht embossed which we have in the state room, but evidently private paper which Mr. Brand keeps for his own use with his crest only in the corner."
"He has it in his own cabin. I saw it there when I offered to lend Davis a hand the other morning."
"Then Davis has sent the message and used his master's notepaper for the purpose."
"Yes, that is pretty clear, I think. He gave me the slip to carry it up or get it sent up. I wish we had all the words, because I have no doubt it is a code, and it is hard to work out a code from scraps."
Hardy spread the paper on which he had written the words on the table, and studied them for several minutes without speaking. They seemed part of a message which one business man might send to another. The word "sell" was quite plain, then there was a ragged piece of black in which the object to be sold was not traceable, then came the words, "buy rock salt," then there were more broken words followed by some-thing which promised developments. "At midnight," was clearly discernible, but the rest could not be deciphered.
"I am afraid we can only keep this by us and trust to luck," said Hardy. "Meantime, we keep an eye on Mr. Davis."
"Well, and how have you been passing the day?" Hardy asked Maxwell, as they strolled up and down the deck in the moonlight after the ladies had re-tired to their cabins, and Mr. Brand was busy with some correspondence.
"I have been in charge of Nora and Mrs. Wynter-Smith," replied Maxwell.
"Doing duty for me," said Hardy with a laugh. "Very good of you, old chap. I hope it was not a case of how happy could I be with either. I suppose as a matter of fact it really was 'how happy I could be with one.' And what became of Mabel all this time?"
"Oh, Brand, of course," replied Maxwell curtly.
Hardy halted, and swinging round looked at his friend squarely. He was about to say something but he resumed his walk and Maxwell automatically fell into step with him. For some moments there was silence between them.
"This has been a most enjoyable trip, up to now," remarked Hardy casually.
"For you, no doubt," replied Maxwell. "You are just in that blissful state when a man's eyes are closed to everything outside his own little heaven. But, frankly, I am not particularly struck with the way things are going on aboard this yacht. There is something eerie about it all."
"A sort of state of doubt and uncertainty, especially with people who can't make up their own minds," said Hardy.
"What do you mean by that?" asked Maxwell sharply.
"Oh, ask Nora," retorted Hardy. "One of these days she'll be having a talk to you for your own good. I shall only make a bungle of it if I interfere."
Instead of turning when they reached the end of the upper deck, Hardy led the way to the bows of the boat and Maxwell followed. At the fo'cas'le end Maxwell stood with his back to the sea.
"Now," he said. "I want a word on business. Aft there we could not talk very well. Here we only have to look one way for intruders, in the middle of the ship they might be coming on us from all sides. Do you know that there is a man on that island somewhere, in whom you are particularly interested? I have kept you In the dark a bit because I had no alternative."
"A man in whom I am interested?"
"Yes, none other than Forbes Regan. We have been searching for him all day, but he is hiding there and he will have to come out some time. So you see, Brand's yacht has been useful in spite of its drawbacks."
"But are you sure he can't escape?" asked Maxwell excitedly. "Why didn't you make the search complete? Why didn't you get Brand to lend you the whole of his crew and beat every bit of cover in the place? There is not much of it surely. We will start again in the morning. He will surely have to come out for food at dawn."
"Hush! not so loud. Words carry in this still evening air. You must not breathe a word of this, remember, on board this yacht. I don't want Brand's men; I don't trust them."
"They are a mysterious lot; by the by, is there any nautical reason why they should go careering about in their electric launch in the middle of the night?"
"What do you mean?"
Hardy was excited now, and he became more excited as Maxwell told him what he had seen the previous night.
"Why didn't you tell me this before?" he asked reproachfully.
"I didn't attach much importance to the incident, and in any case, remember, I have not had a chance to speak to you since. You went off to the gunboat early this morning."
"Quite true, yes, I had forgotten that for the moment, but good heavens, Cliff, this, might alter the whole of our plans. You have no idea who the man was?"
"No, except that it was not Brand himself, because I heard him talking in his cabin."
"And who was with him?"
"Davis, obviously; at least I saw Davis go into the cabin shortly before then and I presume Brand was talking to him when I went past the cabin door later."
"See if you can send Sharp along to me without attracting notice," said Hardy.
Maxwell made his way slowly aft, and shortly afterwards Sharp came up to the bows.
"Is there any other men on board whom you suspect beside Davis?" asked Hardy.
"Not up to now, sir," said Sharp. "The hands are not quite my sort, they are mostly fancy sailors who have not seen service aboard a man-of-war, but they seem all right."
Hardy told the detective valet of what he had heard from Maxwell.
"It is just possible," he said, "the same person may be up to something to-night. If he is, we must keep an eye upon him. You post yourself where you can see the launch.
"And nab the man—but wouldn't that spoil our game?"
"It would, that's the trouble. What we want to know is where he goes after he leaves the yacht. We can't collar a boat without being observed, and if we could, the launch would walk away from us."
"They can't help us from the gunboat, can they?"
"They could; but how to work it?"
"You might be ordered aboard the gunboat, sir, and—"
"Splendid. I'll tell them to fetch me and keep a lookout aboard for any signal you may send me. If the launch shoves off, send me a flash at once. Now, that is everything arranged, isn't it? We must not be seen talking together again."
Hardy went down to his cabin Fortunately it was on the side nearest the gunboat. He turned out the lights and flashed several times with an electric torch through the open port-hole. Another flash from the man-of-war showed that he had been observed, then the torch spoke again, and he went to the state room where Mr. Brand was chatting with Maxwell.
A little later a boat came alongside and a middy leapt on the deck of the yacht. He bore the commander's compliments to Commander Hardy, and would he report himself on the gunboat, forthwith.
"Service business, no doubt," remarked Mr. Brand.
"Possibly," said Hardy, "or perhaps the wardroom have taken a notion of giving me a sailor's farewell before they sail in the morning. In any case, Mr. Brand, you know the rule of the service, 'obey and question not.' Commander Benson is my senior, and that is sufficient."
Hardy, excusing himself while Mr. Brand talked pleasantly to the middy, ran along to the ladies' cabins.
"I am going aboard the gunboat, Nora," he said, tapping one of the doors, "and may not be back till some time to-morrow; don't be frightened, it's all right."
"Wait a minute; wait a minute," said a voice within, and then the door opened just sufficiently for a pair of lips to present themselves for a farewell kiss.
Maxwell and Brand watched the boat ploughing its way through the smooth water.
"I think it is unlikely that Mr. Hardy will return to the yacht to-night," remarked Mr. Brand. "In any case, I will turn in. Never lose a good habit Sir Clifford."
"I think I'll go down below, too," said Maxwell.
As Clifford went to his own cabin, he passed Davis on the way to Mr. Brand's.
A little later, Sharp knocked softly at his door.
"Don't turn in yet, Sir Clifford," he said, "but stop in your cabin. I have a notion that the man you saw in the launch the other night will be making another voyage this evening. Will you leave your port-hole open, and if you hear the sound of the launch, just slip along to the companion way and identify the person if you can. I shall be in Mr. Hardy's cabin sending him word."
Maxwell's cabin was in the side of the ship farthest from the gun-boat. He sat on his bunk with the port hole open until he heard the same sound of parting waters as had attracted his attention the other night. Slipping quietly out into the corridor, he hurried past Mr. Brand's cabin, and again he heard the voice of his host inside talking, presumably, to his valet. The man in the launch had the collar of his reefer turned up and a sou-wester pulled down over his eyes. It was impossible to distinguish his features.
By the time Maxwell reached the companion way, he had pushed off and the engines were softly, but swiftly, taking him to sea.
Sharp had heard the launch gently pull up to the companion-way and had seen the muffled figure disappear over the side. Without wasting a moment, he ran down to Hardy's cabin and through the port-hole flashed a message to the gunboat.
On the man-of-war, Hardy had been in consultation with the commander, and when Sharp's message reached him a picket boat was in readiness.
Attended by a couple of men, Hardy swung down the ladder and followed the launch out into the darkness.
THE launch from the yacht had a good start. Her machinery was in such splendid order that she made way swiftly.
It was not Hardy's plan to run her down or to chase her. He wished to keep as near as possible without being observed. This was a difficult matter. The propeller of the launch made very little noise, and in order that the picket boat might not betray her presence, it was necessary to keep a good distance.
One advantage was with Hardy. The sharp-eared sailor who was listening for the other boat, knew it was somewhere, while the man on the launch was occupied with his own engines and was in ignorance of the fact that he was being followed.
Partly by chance and partly by skill, the picket cut directly into the wake of the launch. It was now going full speed and leaving a long, narrow trail behind it which the skilled sailormen were able to follow in the dark by the gentle rocking of their own boat.
Suddenly a light flashed from the launch, and in a few moments there was an answering signal from the shore. Then they felt the course of the launch changing and knew she was making directly for the spot where the signal had dashed.
There was another flash from the land, and Hardy turned the rudder of the picket to bring him into direct line with it. The tide was running that way, and shutting off his engines, he drifted silently shorewards.
He heard the grating of the other boat on the beach, and over the waters came the sound of voices.
He then understood what was happening. The launch had come to fetch somebody: Forbes Regan was escaping. Coming to a quick determination he now abandoned all attempts at secrecy.
"Stop, or we'll run you down," he shouted, making straight for the boat which he could now see gliding out a few yards from him.
The launch, however, was too sharp. The man in charge of it knew how to handle his boat and dexterously evaded the onrushing picket.
Before Hardy could put about the launch had got well ahead of him and going full speed.
It was a race between the two boats. Gradually the launch drew away from them and Hardy realised that Mr. Brand's equipment was more efficient than the five years old machinery of His Majesty's Navy.
Still the pursuing boat kept grimly on, though it fell hopelessly behind.
There were more flashes of light from the launch, and in reply a steady light was turned on from a bigger object seawards.
Hardy had switched on a small search-light attached to the electric apparatus of the picket, and be cursed his bad luck as he saw that his quarry was making for a long, low steamer, which was obviously waiting for it.
The situation was now quite clear. The launch had just left the small bare rock-land to the north of the main island. They had gone round this islet, and even if it had been daylight, were out of sight of the yacht and the warship. It was hopeless to signal for help.
By the aid of his small searchlight he could see a man spring from the launch on to a ladder and board the ship which started almost immediately after the launch had got round to the other side. He made a dash for the launch, but the steamer was so manipulated as to give him the full force of her wash.
Half swamped, it was some time before he could right himself, and meanwhile, the launch was well on her way back to the yacht.
When they rounded the bend, Hardy turned off his searchlight and signalled through the darkness with the flash. An answering signal from the yacht told him that Sharp was on the lookout.
Sharp made his way to Sir Clifford Maxwell's cabin. As he passed Mr. Brand's door he heard the owner of the yacht talking inside.
It was arranged that Maxwell should remain in his cabin, the porthole of which overlooked the side away from the gunboat at which the launch would doubt-less draw up, and Sharp, meantime, posted himself near the ladder where, without being observed, he could watch anybody who came aboard. The engines of the launch stopped as she neared the yacht and she had weigh enough to glide softly alongside. Maxwell saw the man in the bows mount the ladder with the mooring rope in his hand. No member of the crew came to his assistance. He could see the figure in the gloom, but as he had taken the precaution to put out his light, he could not form any idea of his Identity.
The man slowly mounted the ladder and tied up the mooring rope. As he did so. Sharp stepped out of his hiding-place and gripped him by the shoulder.
The fellow made no attempt to cry out but, by a quick twist, got his assailant round the legs. Together they rolled on to the deck; for a few seconds there was a silent struggle for the mastery. The lights had been put out at this point and neither could see the other's face. Sharp was a well-knit man and in his naval days had been a champion wrestler, but he found the slighter form of his antagonist more supple and his grip no less powerful than his own.
A clicking noise from behind told them that a third man's foot had struck a link of a chain.
Sharp assumed the newcomer to be Maxwell, who had arranged to come from the cabin as soon as he had witnessed all that could be seen of what happened on the boat.
The other man obviously heard the noise, and, as though giving up the con-test, allowed Sharp to get on top of him.
The next moment, Sharp's head was pulled back and an arm round his throat, garotting him more securely than he had ever known the trick done, with all his experience of the by-ways of London.
The man on the deck sprang to his feet, and winding a heavy muffler round the detective's head, blinded and gagged him. Sharp felt himself being carried down below. His captors paused a moment, set him on his feet, a door was opened, and he was thrust inside. When he tore the muffler from his head the door was secured from the outside, and he found himself in Mr. Hardy's cabin.
Maxwell, meantime, had been similarly checked. When he turned away from the porthole to make his way on deck, he could not open his cabin door. That also had been fastened from the outside. He spent some minutes fumbling with the handle in the belief that the catch had merely stuck. Those few minutes had been quite sufficient for the beginning and ending of the contest between Sharp and the other men.
Without knowing what had happened, Maxwell banged on the door and then rang his bell. He kept his finger on the button till the shrill tingle became a persistent alarm, and then kicked the door again. When he turned to the bell once more there was a soft knock on the door.
"Come in, if you can," he shouted.
The door opened and Davis, calm and imperturbable as ever, entered.
"Can I do anything for you, sir?" said the valet. "Apparently Sharp has not heard your bell."
Maxwell brushed the man aside and hurried up on deck. The rope which secured the launch hung loosely in the water. He leaned over the taffrail and peered down in the gloom. The launch was riding alongside just as though it had never left the ship.
He went back to the cabin and found Davis still there. The man showed no sign of surprise, but stood deferentially waiting for orders. There was now a loud knocking at the door on the other side. Sharp was trying to call attention to the fact that he was a prisoner in Hardy's cabin.
"Mr. Hardy appears to require some-thing also," said Davis. "Shall I go to him?"
Maxwell rushed to Hardy's door. It opened easily as soon as he turned the handle.
"What has happened? What the deuce are you doing here, Sharp?" he said.
Sharp was about to reply when, looking over Maxwell's shoulder, he saw the stolid figure of Davis framed in the open doorway of the opposite cabin.
"Oh, I was in here taking advantage of Mr. Hardy's absence on the gunboat to put the cabin shipshape, when I heard your bell, but something seems to have gone wrong with the catch of the door," he said.
"Well, come over to my cabin, I want you," said Maxwell.
"Then I can be of no further assistance, sir," said Davis.
"No, thank you, Davis," replied Maxwell, adopting an offhand tone.
The valet bowed and stood aside for Maxwell and Sharp to enter.
Sharp closed the porthole as Maxwell shut the door and then the two men looked at each other in silence. Sharp was the first to speak.
"I am afraid we have been done again, Sir Clifford," he said. "I have handled some clever lots in my time, but this crowd beats all."
"I only hope Hardy has been more successful at his end," said Maxwell.
Sharp shook his head sadly.
"Judging from what he signalled to me, I am afraid not, Sir Clifford," he said. "But I don't think we can do any more to night."
"I have a good mind to go and knock up Brand and tell him one of his men has been clandestinely using his launch for his own purposes."
"I would not do that until we have consulted Mr. Hardy," said Sharp. "Of course, the watch has been squared, and if Mr. Brand were to order the hands to be paraded, we should not be able to pick our man out. The less we say now the more likely we are to hear something later."
Nothing more was to be done now on board the yacht. Hardy, chancing the lack of information as to what was happening there, had resolved to waste no time. He went direct to the gunboat.
Shortly after he got on board, Captain Benson issued a few sharp orders, and the sleeping men-o-war sprang with the snap of discipline into a scene of bustling activity. The fires had been going in anticipation of sailing orders at daybreak, and the ship was soon moving under a fair pressure of steam.
A searchlight was thrown over the sea in the direction of a small island, and from a rough estimate of the direction taken by the steamboat, Hardy was able to give Commander Benson his bearings.
With increasing steam they ploughed on, throwing the searchlight over the water.
Daybreak had come when at last they sighted a craft. She was of the size and build of the ship which Hardy had seen off the island overnight.
"Run up a signal and tell her to heave to," said Commander Benson, now keen upon the chase.
"And if she won't stop, what will you do?" asked Hardy.
"Fire a shot across her bows and then run her down," replied Benson.
THE master of the steamer apparently knew that the man-of-war meant business. He obeyed the signal and awaited the boarding party that put off from the gunboat.
"You have a passenger on board and we want to see him," said the lieutenant in charge of the party, getting to the point at once.
The merchant captain looked at the naval officer with surprise.
"Passenger! This is not a passenger boat," he said.
"But you took a man on board last night," said the lieutenant. "You were seen to do so."
He turned to Hardy as he spoke, as though inviting confirmation.
"Yes, I saw you take a man on board shortly after midnight."
"Oh, that was not a passenger, that was a customer of the owners. I had orders to pick him up to oblige his firm. Said he had been about the islands for his health. He didn't like coming out in the night air, but he had to come on board then or not at all. I couldn't afford the time to wait about till morning."
"Where is he now?" asked the lieutenant. "You know you are merely playing on words when you talk about his not being a passenger. Where is he?"
"He is not aboard now," replied the skipper. "As soon as I struck the fairway I transferred him, by his own request, to another boat."
"What was her name and where was she bound?"
"Seadove. Bound for London."
"Will you lend me one of your boats to send a message to my commander?"
"Certainly—lower a boat sharp," shouted the captain to the bosun.
"What was the name of your passenger?" asked Hardy.
"The name he gave me was William Pollock," said the skipper.
This conveyed nothing, but Hardy didn't expect Regan to give his real name.
Hardy sent a message to the gunboat to get the Seadove by wireless, and while this was being conveyed, went below with the lieutenant at the invitation of the captain, who voluntarily produced his papers.
Everything was in order. The papers showed that the ship was on legitimate trade, and there was ample evidence she had business that justified her crossing the islands to the northward.
"But didn't it strike you," said Hardy, "that it was rather a queer way for a man of substance to leave the island? Why should he be brought out in an electric launch late at night?"
"I suppose it was because when I was asked before I left the mainland whether I could take him, I replied that he would have to come then or not at all."
"But when was this engagement made?"
"I touched port yesterday morning, and the agent asked me about it. I suppose he sent my reply by wireless or by cable to the island. At all events, that was his business. I only undertook to be lying off at the latitude and longitude given me, by midnight."
This was all the information they could get out of the captain. He treated the matter as being no affair of his and willingly gave a description of his passenger: so far as there was any lucidity in it, the man might well be Forbes Regan. His log showed an entry of the arrival of the man on board and of his transfer to the Seadove.
He called in the mate who had commanded the boat that took the passenger to the Seadove, and left the state-room so that the man might be freely questioned.
Commander Benson, when he received the lieutenant's report of what had taken place, sent the junior officer to hear what had happened in the Marconi room.
"Well, my dear Hardy, it seems to me you have been dished," he said, when they were alone.
"Is there no chance of our catching up on the Seadove?"
"It is very unlikely. She had a big start and we are not quite a racing greyhound. We shouldn't have caught up on the packet you have just boarded if it had been to her advantage to keep away from us."
"And you haven't yet succeeded in picking her up by wireless."
"The operator doesn't find her in the list of ships that carry wireless. We are trying to find out if anybody has seen her and of course we can tell London to watch for her, but she may, and prob-ably does, call somewhere on the main-land before she gets on her course to London."
"In plain language then, my bird has got away."
"I am afraid you must make up your mind to that, and now I'll take you back to your yachting party. Then I must wish you good luck and clear."
Mr. Brand did not ask Hardy any questions when he returned to the yacht. After formally welcoming him on board he discreetly left him with Nora Temperley, who was eagerly awaiting his return.
When he found the opportunity of comparing his experience with those of Max-well and Sharp, Hardy admitted that Commander Benson was only too well justified in saying he had been dished.
He agreed with Sharp that there was nothing to be gained by talking to Mr. Brand about their adventures with the launch.
"We cannot talk about the thing with-out the story travelling round the yacht," he said. "Our only course now is to lie low and keep our eyes and ears open."
The engineer, during the morning, reported that the shafting was now in good working order, and Mr. Brand announced that they would set sail for home the following morning.
He invited the party to make suggestions for their own entertainment on this last day of their stay on the island.
"Is there any spot you have not visited which you would like to see," he asked, with a comprehensive glance round which finally settled on Hardy. "By the way, have you seen the islets which form part of the group? The rock which I visited myself might make quite an interesting spot for a rough and ready picnic."
Mrs. Wynter-Smith enthusiastically urged that this would be a change from the woodlands of the main island, and the party set out in boats followed by stewards with provisions. They steered through the narrow sea between the main island and the rock, and, as they passed near the coast, Hardy noticed a small natural creek on the big island, into which a boat might easily enter.
They found an easy landing-place on the islet, not far from this and then he had the complete story in his mind. The launch, when Maxwell saw it depart, had come round to this creek, taken Forbes Regan on the main island, deposited him on the barren rock where he had remained in safety while they were searching the island.
The only link missing was the communication made with the mainland and the arrangement with the merchant skipper. This of course, could easily be done by Davis from the wireless apparatus on the yacht.
They lunched on the shore, and, led by Mr. Brand, explored some of the huge crevices which the water had eaten out. The place reminded Hardy of the old sea tales of unpopular sailors marooned by their mess-mates. It was a barren hill on a rock base.
The party broke up into groups as they roamed through the miniature caves or mounted the top of the hill as their tastes and fancies directed them. To Maxwell's astonishment, Dick Hardy got into such an animated discussion with Mrs. Wynter-Smith, that he was left to take care of Nora Temperley. Mr. Brand had already so contrived matters that Mabel was with him.
Nora sat on a huge stone and watched the baronet with a satirical look in her expressive eyes.
"I am afraid you are not enjoying yourself," she said. "Playing gooseberry is rather a slow game, isn't it?"
"Well, I am just wondering—"
"Wondering how on earth we happen to find ourselves together?" she said, with a mischievous laugh. "At all events, I hope you are not jealous of Dick."
"Jealous of Dick! What on earth do you mean, Nora?"
"Well he seems to have taken Mrs. Wynter-Smith away and left you to the dull company of an engaged lady. I can only imagine what your experience is from my own recollections of engaged men. Personally, I have always found them most impossible creatures."
"You don't include Dick within that general condemnation. I hope?"
"Stupid! of course I don't. I mean men who are engaged to other girls. One never knows what to say to them. It is too much to ask a woman to be eternally praising another woman, and of course, that is all an engaged man wants to hear."
"And as I do not happen to be engaged you find it just possible to put up with me for a few fleeting minutes. I suppose I can best occupy them by telling you that Dick Hardy is absolutely one of the best."
"That's very pretty, Cliff. Now, what would you like me to say to you in return. Don't you think Mrs. Wynter-Smith a remarkably clever woman."
"Oh, yes, very clever indeed," he said, looking vacantly out to sea.
"Well, you are almost as hopeless a day dreamer as an engaged man," she said, after watching him for several minutes.
"Beg pardon, I am sorry. I am afraid I'm by nature rather a dull person compared to Dick. My thoughts had really wandered back to my life in London."
"And what part did Mabel Neville play in them?" she asked.
"Mabel! Oh, she was my good angel. But for her I should have gone under in the struggle."
"And now you leave her to Mr. Brand."
"Brand. Yes, Brand, it is always Brand. He possesses every faculty that I lack."
"Except the one that is priceless above all others and which you are too stupid to use."
"What do you mean, Nora?" he said, turning towards her and looking into her face with a puzzled and eager interest.
"Oh, I have no patience with you, Clifford," she said. "You are like a dreamer walking in his sleep. Will nothing open your eyes?"
"Oh, don't talk in silly parables, Nora. What do you mean by a priceless faculty that Brand does not possess?"
"The faculty that these oppressively perfect men never have—the power to make a woman truly happy. Come along. let's go and look for the others, or I shall get angry."
"But, Nora, you don't mean—"
A piercing scream from below interrupted him, and leaping up, he followed Nora as she ran down the sloping side of the rock.
AS Maxwell made his way over the boulders round to the point where the rocks rose perpendicular from the shore, he saw Mrs Wynter-Smith standing beside a mass of stone that jutted out into the sea.
The tide turning quickly had caught this point and was rushing into a cavern eaten out by the waters of many years.
"What has happened?" he cried, as he leapt up beside the screaming woman.
"Mabel—Mabel is in there."
Maxwell jumped into the cavern. A wave lashed into fury by the resistance it had met from the rock, picked him up and threw him against the side of the cave. The wash, as it receded and then flowed again, buffeted him backwards and forwards, until, finding room for the play of his arms and legs, he fought it with a strong breast stroke.
He attempted to test the depth but found that he had reached a point where there was a permanently deep hole.
"Mabel, Mabel, where are you?" he shouted.
There was no response. He tried to penetrate the darkness, but could see nothing. He seemed to have been carried into the heart of the rock. Swimming ahead, he found himself met with a tide from the opposite direction and his hands struck against a sharp corner. As he rounded this, he saw a glimmer of light and felt himself being borne towards it. The force of the water from behind was stronger than that which met him and he was carried swiftly on towards the opening.
Again he shouted for Mabel, and in the dim light gazed eagerly around him. There was no trace of her. He turned and fought his way back, still shouting her name.
At the bend his foot touched a ledge. He stood on it to rest and found there was another a little higher up. As his eyes grew accustomed to the light, he saw yet another, immediately in front of him, and another above his head. They formed a series of natural steps. He climbed up to a much wider ledge which formed a kind of second roof over the channel through which he had been swimming. As he pulled himself up he was able to discern a sight that made him stagger back and almost threw himself into the water.
Mabel Neville was lying there, apparently dead.
With a cry of agony he caught her in his arms, and then a wild shout of joy echoed through the cavern as he felt that she was still breathing.
He rubbed her hands and noticed with thankfulness that she was gradually recovering consciousness, when a light shone upon her face from above, an as he turned in amazement, it as suddenly went out.
Springing up to see what it meant, he overbalanced himself and fell into the water below. It took him some time to find the steps, and when he came up again, Mabel had disappeared. A horrified thought first occurred to him that she also must have fallen back into the water, but he had heard no splash.
He felt himself lifted up by hands, which, groping over his body, caught him by the shoulders.
"It's all right," said a voice in his ear, "just leave yourself to me."
It was Brand who spoke, and even in this critical moment, Maxwell recognised the confident masterful tone.
"Where is Mabel?" he asked, "look after her; she was on this ledge a few moments ago, but she has disappeared."
"Oh, it's all right," replied Brand, "she is out of danger and you soon will be if you do as I tell you. Now, get your foot on this next ledge. Wait, I will guide you to it."
Mr. Brand took Maxwell's right leg by the calf and lifted it to a step. He then pushed the baronet gently up; they reached yet another ledge, and then every thing was completely dark. Maxwell was guided along for some little distance and then there was another glimmer of light and a breath of fresh air blew in upon them. Another turning brought them out into the open where Mabel Neville was lying with Mr. Brand's coat under her head.
The opening from which they had emerged was like a huge fox's hole. All these things were comprehended in a quick glance as he dropped on his knee beside Mabel Neville. Brand, on the other side, had already lifted her head on his arm. The fresh air revived her and she lifted her hand to her head where for the first time Maxwell saw an ugly bruise.
"Mabel, you are hurt," he said.
As she opened her eyes and looked at him a smile of welcome recognition chased away the look of pain on her face. It faded as Brand bent over and examined the bruise.
"Happily it was a dull blow and has not broken the skin," he said, "perhaps you had better rest a little before we carry you down the hill, although you must not remain long in these wet garments."
"Oh, I am all right now, I think," she said, attempting to get up.
"No, don't exert yourself," said Brand. "Sir Clifford and I between us can carry you quite easily."
In the usual ambulance form they made a chair of their hands and carried her round the cliff.
She rested one arm on the shoulder of each man, and it was a strange procession that met the astonished gaze of Mrs. Wynter- Smith and Nora Temperley who were eagerly watching the cavern by the sea. They quickly ran round to the level spot where luncheon had been served.
"We will postpone explanations for the present," said Mr. Brand. "There is a dry cavern which the tide is not likely to reach over there. The tablecloths which we brought for lunch must serve as towels, and if you ladies will retire, you might give Miss Neville a rub down to prevent her catching cold. There are some rugs here which will serve as temporary garments while the launch is going to the yacht for some dry clothes. They might bring some for us at the same time, Maxwell, and I think a rub down and a drink will do us good, unless you would prefer to return at once and change, but I should not advise that course. The sooner we get out of our wet clothes the better. The stewards can lend us one or two coats and the launch won't be long."
Thus, with his usual capacity for organisation, Brand settled everything in a couple of minutes. The ladies retired, and Maxwell put himself in the hands of the stewards, who rubbed him well and covered him with spare reefers while they packed up in their shirt sleeves. His pipe soon dried in the sun and some tobacco was quickly forthcoming.
A loud roar of laughter interrupted his meditations as he sat there smoking, while the stewards were bustling around him.
"You look like an Indian chief, Cliff, what the deuce have you been up to?" said Hardy.
"The question, rather, is," said Maxwell, "where the deuce have you been? I don't suppose you know that you might have found half the party drowned."
"Oh, Mr. Hardy has been exploring on his own account." observed Mr. Brand, who came up, wrapped in a tarpaulin which he had appropriated from one of the boats.
"Half the party drowned!" repeated Hardy.
"But we are all safe," said Brand quickly. "The danger is over."
"But what has happened?"
"You will remember you left Mrs. Wynter-Smith and Miss Neville with me."
"Yes, the ladies wanted to explore the cave and you offered to conduct them while I went back to look for Nora and Maxwell, who appear to have wandered in the opposite direction to that which I took. But was the cave dangerous?"
"It would not have been but for the accident. Mrs. Wynter- Smith, at the last moment, thought she would rather wait on the rock which, as you know, runs out like a sharp miniature cape at that point. We found the cave more extensive than it at first sight appeared, and as we were walking on a narrow path, at the side of a deep, permanent pool in the hollow, Miss Neville unfortunately slipped and struck her forehead. It was not a serious blow, so we discover now, but the shock unnerved her. She was in a fainting condition when I pulled her out, but I fortunately discovered a ledge some little distance up where I placed her for safety. Then I explored by myself and found there was a further upward cavern that led out through the side of the hill. This was fortunate, because it would have been very difficult to take Miss Neville back the narrow way we had come, and, moreover, I have learnt since, that meanwhile the tide bad begun to rush in so that egress in that direction would be impossible for a long time. Maxwell can tell you what happened afterwards."
"Yes, Mrs. Wynter-Smith only had time to tell me Mabel was in the cave, before I took a plunge for it. I also discovered the ledge, and, after a second ducking you rescued me. But where did the light come from?"
"Light!"
"Yes, the light that was suddenly shown on us and then went out before you took Mabel away."
"Oh, yes, there was just a flash left in an electric torch I happened to have on me!" replied Brand. "By the way, the launch is back now; shall we go and sort out our garments?"
A little pale, but apparently not much the worse for her experience, Mabel was escorted to the boat by Mrs. Wynter-Smith and Nora.
The following day, amid farewells and enthusiastic good wishes from the islanders, the moorings were loosened and the party on the yacht set out for home. They did not take the direct route, but cruised about for a while, as Mr. Brand explained, in order that they might have some of the benefit of the open sea of which they had been deprived by the delay for repairs at the island.
One person, at all events, guessed the real reason for this extension of the voyage. Nora Temperley smiled to herself as Mr. Brand repeated his desire to make the most of the sea before they broke up the party.
Mabel was keeping to her cabin. The reaction, after her speedy recovery from the excitement, had been severe, and when she got over that she still preferred solitude.
Nora was kept busy with bulletins eagerly sought for by the rest of the party.
"If you wish to know the real truth," she said one morning to Mr. Brand in response to his inquiries, "I don't think Miss Neville will be really better until we land. Your yacht is exceedingly comfortable, and nothing could be more enjoyable for healthy persons, but when one has been at the point of death, careful nursing at home is the greatest consideration."
"In that case," said Mr. Brand, smothering his obvious disappointment with an effort, "I will at once give orders to take the most direct course for home. Under full steam we ought to reach London to-morrow."
In the early part of the evening, Nora brought Mabel on deck. Maxwell and Hardy were chatting together a little way off. Nora arranged a deck chair with cushions, and having made her patient comfortable, walked towards the two men.
Maxwell met her eyes as she approached; there was a challenging look in them. He stepped away, and she joined Hardy.
At that moment, Mr. Brand appeared as though from nowhere, and dropping down beside Mabel, took her hand in his. And then there came a great awakening for Clifford Maxwell.
NORA TEMPERLEY turned towards Clifford Maxwell with a gasp of astonishment.
The colour had left his cheek. One hand gripped the side of a deck boat; the other trembled as it hung at his side. His eyes glittered in the setting sun and remained fixed on the girl in the deck chair.
The story of years was unfolding itself rapidly in his mind. Mabel Neville had been the playmate of his youth when she was a child and he a headstrong boy. She had brought happiness into his solitude in the days of his poverty. He had taken their friendship for granted. He had rushed into the cavern on the island to save her because it seemed natural that he should be her protector. He recalled the annoyance he had always felt when any other boy or man seemed to be playing that part. An unreasoning anger at the attitude of his host had made this holiday cruise miserable for him.
Now he understood.
He loved this girl; loved her with all the fierce warmth of a latent passion which had suddenly burst like a hot spring pent up under a thin crust.
He had a grim foreboding that light had come too late. Brand still held Mabel's hand with an air of proprietorship which apparently she was powerless to resist. But the fighting instincts of his race were never stronger within Maxwell. He had struggled for his life in the bush and had come triumphantly through adventures by land and sea. Not till this moment had he ever experienced the full force of an all-absorbing, unconquerable determination to win.
Dick Hardy, who knew him better than any other living man, had never seen him look like this before.
"There'll be trouble soon," he whispered to Nora, with a jerk of his head towards the deck chair.
"Come up and speak to her," said Nora, stepping towards the chair followed by Hardy.
"Glad to see you on deck again, Mabel," he said, "hope you are feeling quite fit again."
Brand still held her hand, but with an effort she drew it away.
"Oh, yes, I shall be all right when I land!" she said. "The rocking of the ship seems to remind me, I don't know why, of the waters in the cave. Possibly, I am still a bit jumpy. Ah, Cliff, I have not had an opportunity yet of thanking you for what you did!" she added, as Maxwell joined the party.
"Afraid I didn't do much," said Maxwell.
The words were spoken huskily, as though he found it difficult to speak in a natural tone. She looked at him, and for an instant their eyes met. A soft, pink blush spread over her pale face, and Nora Temperley, who had adroitly edged her way in front of Mr. Brand, leaned down to kiss her forehead.
"There, we must not excite our patient by making a crowd round her," she said. "Now, you men, run away and smoke."
For just a fraction of a second there was a steely glint in Brand's eye, but he rose from the camp-stool and went up the steps to the Marconi room. Maxwell and Hardy strolled away towards the stern of the ship.
Hardy, at the end of the quarter-deck, stopped, and with the usual gait of the sailor trying to work out a problem paced across the deck, backwards and forwards, with Maxwell at his side. Neither of the two men spoke, but they thoroughly understood each other. Nora, who was talking in low, earnest tones to Mabel, caught Dick's eye as he turned at one point.
In response to the silent message, he changed the course of his perambulation and walked past the deck-chair. On the second backward journey Nora rose and joined her arm in Hardy's; turning quickly, she led him off, leaving Maxwell standing beside Mabel.
Clifford dropped on to the camp-stool which Nora had left.
"Mabel," he said, clasping her hand. For a few moments other words failed him.
"You—you understand," he stammered.
"I think I do," she said.
A slight cough behind interrupted him, and the smooth, even tones of Brand's voice sounded hideously in his ears.
"I have been in communication by wireless with home," he said, "and have sent an order for a special ambulance car to meet us at the quayside. It will be much more comfortable for you, Miss Neville, than changing into trains, and I propose that, pending your complete recovery, the whole party should go direct to Bewley."
"It is very kind of you, Mr. Brand," said Mabel, "but I do not think I can accept your invitation."
"Oh, really; but you must not go back to that club where you reside! You cannot get proper attention there. Mrs. Wynter-Smith, please persuade Miss Neville for me."
Mrs. Wynter-Smith, who had hitherto been very much in the background, now appeared at the psychological moment when Mr. Brand required her.
"I have been suggesting," said Mr. Brand, "that we should all go back to Bewley until Miss Neville has completely recovered. Don't you think it an excellent idea?"
"The very thing," cried Mrs. Wynter-Smith, enthusiastically. "My dear Mabel, you really must be persuaded. You know Mr. Shepherd, your guardian, has no facilities in his house for entertaining ladies, and the club, while an excellent institution at normal times, is absolutely impossible."
"There, you hear, Miss Neville. I was sure your friends would agree with me, so I have already taken the liberty of sending instructions."
"And a liberty it was," muttered Maxwell.
The words were spoken really to himself, but Mr. Brand heard them. There was a perceptible hardening of his handsome face, and a hasty word trembled on his lips, but Nora Temperley, who had returned with Hardy, intervened.
"Oh, I had forgotten to mention that I have arranged with Mabel that she will come to my aunt's house in London for a day or two, and then, with Mr. Shepherd's consent, she will probably spend quite a long holiday with us at our home in the country! And now you people must really leave her alone, I brought her up for a quiet change of atmosphere, but you will insist on flocking round her. I think she had better come back to her cabin, don't you. Mabel?"
Mabel rose from the chair, and declining any assistance, walked away with Nora, leaving the rest of the group looking awkwardly at each other.
"Nora knew Brand and Mrs. Wynter-Smith would not have left you alone," said Hardy quietly, as they resumed their parade up and down the deck, "but you'll get an invitation to come with me down to the old country."
"Oh, you are going, too?"
"Of course, I haven't been there since we became engaged, and I am to be paraded for inspection."
"But Nora's people know, of course?"
"Rather. I got pa's consent on a long-distance 'phone from old Brand's the morning after I arrived. He is a regular sport; I could hear him fluttering with laughter through the 'phone. The idea of fixing up an engagement by electricity amused him intensely."
"Yes, if I only had your nerve. I suppose," said Maxwell, "you have about hit the truth by this time concerning myself and Mabel?"
"My dear Cliff, we are not all as blind as bats. Do you suppose with a fellow feeling I have not watched your eyes following her about like a sailor watching the old man in a storm, and the joke of it all is, that you seem to have been the last person to raise the truth. My hat, if it had gone on much longer, I believe Nora would have taken you by the coat collar and shaken you."
"But you see, Mabel and I grew up more like big brother and little sister."
"Well, there'll be a hurricane more than brotherly love now that you have got on to your true course."
During dinner that night, Mr. Brand was at his best. He made no reference to the incident of the early evening, but talked brilliantly on all kinds of topics. He was especially friendly to Maxwell, but both men knew it was like the cordial courtesy of two rival powers before breaking off diplomatic relations.
By this manner he contrived to convey the intimation that he knew there was to be a struggle between them for the greatest prize in a man's life. Maxwell, on his part, made it clear that he accepted the challenge.
In London the party scattered. Mr. Brand, who had countermanded the orders at Bewley, took a seat in Mrs. Wynter- Smith's car which had been kept waiting for them at the dock gates, much to the disgust of the chauffeur, who felt out of place in this port of London, but had found a confidant for his grumbles in the chauffeur of the car which had been sent down to meet Nora Temperley and Mabel.
After they had seen the ladies to Nora's aunt's house, Maxwell and Hardy returned to the hotel where they breakfasted on that eventful morning before Clifford went to Bewley. Sharp had already engaged rooms for them and was waiting to be relieved of his duties.
"Well, we had better report to the police office all together," said Hardy, "and then to business."
"From that point of view, I am afraid our sea voyage has not accomplished much," said Maxwell, who now had time to think of the tragic side of his affairs.
"I am not sure of that," said Hardy, with a significant look at Sharp.
At the police station there was very little information awaiting them. The message sent from the gunboat had come on to them. They had watched for the arrival of the Seadove, but no man answering the description of Forbes Regan was on board, though somebody who might be Regan had landed with other passengers at Cherbourg.
"His old starting-point," remarked Hardy, "and I'll guarantee he did not stay there very long. By the by, Inspector, I suppose there have been no developments in the Square."
"We have kept both houses under observation, but so far nobody has been seen to attempt an entrance at Sir Clifford Maxwell's house, and business next door has been normal. Perhaps Sir Clifford would like to take possession in the morning."
"It would be a good idea to go round, at any rate," said Hardy.
The following morning, accompanied by the inspector, they went to the old house.
"Phew! The place wants airing badly. By Jove, it is stuffy," said Hardy, when the officer threw open the door. "Better get the back door open as well as the front, and flush the place."
As they went along the passage towards the kitchen the atmosphere became more oppressive. Maxwell thought it must be the contrast from the sea air. The place was like an opened tomb. A sickening smell came through the door of what once had been the breakfast-room. The inspector threw it open and entered, while Maxwell passed into the kitchen to open the back door.
When Sir Clifford returned the officer was on his knees, and Hardy staggered against Maxwell with a cry of horror.
"HOLD up, Dick," said Maxwell. "What is the matter?"
"Look, don't you see it? Pull yourself together, Cliff, for something that will send shivers down your spine. Let's have more air for the love of the Lord."
He tried to open a window, held fast by the dust and rust of years, and picking up the leg of a broken chair, smashed the glass.
The inspector rose from the floor, and Maxwell noticed that two of the boards were up. Hardy's warning was justified; the sight which met his gaze haunted him for many days.
The leaden-coloured face of a putrid corpse was lying beneath the floor.
The police officer watched him closely as he stepped forward and looked into the hole made by the removal of the two boards. He pressed his hands over his eyes to shut out the hideous sight, but a fascination he could not resist made him look again.
The clothes lying loosely on the shrunken body he recognised all too well. The flash waistcoat with the gaudy buttons; the big watch-fob with many ornaments. The man lying there, horrible in death, was Howard Bedford.
"You recognise this person?" asked the inspector stiffly.
"Yes, yes, it is Howard Bedford without a doubt. But how did he get there?"
"That is a matter which will have to be explained later," said the officer. "No, don't touch anything," he added, as Clifford bent down and was about to pick up the board. "Leave everything as it is."
He took a whistle out of his pocket, and stepping to the door of the room, blew it very loud. They heard the hurried footsteps of a man on the pavement outside and a uniformed policeman came down the passage.
"See that nobody enters this room until I come back," said the inspector sharply.
The man saluted, and remained outside the door.
"And now, Sir Clifford Maxwell," said the inspector, "I must ask you to accompany me to the police station."
"You don't suggest—" said Maxwell.
"Better do as the officer tells you, Cliff," said Hardy. "I suppose there Is no objection to my coming too?"
"I cannot prevent you," said the inspector in a formal voice.
They went to a police station, where Maxwell was informed that he would be detained on suspicion.
"What do you charge me with?" asked Maxwell.
"We shall charge you when the time comes," said the inspector. "Meanwhile, if you have anything to say, we are willing to listen to you, but you understand it may be used against you."
"I have already told you everything I know," replied Maxwell; "there is nothing to add."
More men were sent round to the house in the Square, accompanied by the inspector. The officers who searched the house on the previous occasion remembered that they had looked in this room, which was apparently empty, but for a few bits of broken furniture.
The boards were placed into position again; they fitted exactly. They had been so cleverly cut out in the first instance that only on very careful inspection could the fact that they were loose be detected.
There was a small hole made by the loosening of a knot In the wood, and it was the stench which came through this that had attracted the inspector's attention while Maxwell was forcing the rusted bolts of the back door.
The body was removed to the mortuary, and the police once more took possession of the house. The public had almost forgotten the disappearance of Mr. Howard Bedford, but interest in the case was speedily reawakened.
Dick Hardy left Maxwell at the police station, and drove to the house where Nora and Mabel were staying.
Nora came tripping into the room with the expectant impatience of a girl whose lover is overdue.
"You are late, Dick," she said. "Now where have you been? Why, what on earth is the matter? You look as though you had seen a ghost."
"I have," said Dick, as he took her in his arms and kissed her lips. "How is Mabel this morning? Do you think she can stand a shock?"
"A shock! Has anything happened to Clifford Maxwell?"
"Not yet, but something may happen to him before long. To put it in plain language, it is quite possible that before the day is out he will be charged with murder—of course, we know he is innocent, and I hope we shall be able to prove It."
"Murder! But who has been killed?"
"Oh, a man whom you do not know and who was not much good to anybody in any case, but he is dead, and the law will demand satisfaction from somebody!"
He told her briefly the story of Bedford's disappearance and of Maxwell's en-counter with him in his rooms.
"Oh, yes, I remember seeing some sensational news in the papers about the disappearance of some person, and I remember now the name was Howard Bedford, but I had no idea Clifford Maxwell was in any way connected with it! I didn't read it very carefully."
"And we did not talk about it at Bewley, because it was not a pleasant subject."
"Ought we to tell Mabel at once?"
"She will have to be told sooner or later. Perhaps, however, we might await developments. They may not charge him after all, but I thought you had better know, because the newspapers are bound to be full of it before long. There will have to be an inquest immediately. They can't keep the body."
"Well, I won't talk to her about it to-day, at all events. But I must tell her, of course, before we set out for Lakehurst."
"Which I hope will not be soon," said Dick, "because I have to prepare you for what I hope will be a disappointment. I shall have to run away again in a day or two on urgent business."
"Oh, Dick!" said Nora, hanging on to his arm, "is it absolutely necessary?"
"Yes, that is the worst of tying yourself up to a sailor man; but cheer up, little girl, I shan't stay away a day longer than is necessary. I say, how do you think Mabel will take this? They have not really got to the point of being engaged, have they?"
"No, Brand saw to that, the beast, but if Cliff is really in danger, you may take it for granted that will settle matters beyond doubt."
"You mean—"
"That Mabel will stick to him though everybody else were against him. You have no doubt on that point, have you?"
"I should not, of course, in your case, and I suppose there is no reason why I should think otherwise of Mabel. Well, I must run off again; I have a lot of ground to cover to-day."
As Hardy had predicted, the inquest was held the next morning. The police simply asked for the Coroner's order for the burial of the body, and then applied for an adjournment. The bare facts had to be stated, and the general public, after having forgotten the Bedford mystery, applied itself with reawakened interest to the problem.
Men in the trains home in the evening solemnly assured each other that Sir Clifford Maxwell had not a dog's chance of clearing himself.
While the newsboys were still crying out the headlines of the sensational articles in the streets, Mrs. Wynter-Smith arrived in her motor car to call on Nora and Mabel. She held her smelling- salts to her nose, and falling on Nora's neck, asked if she had heard the terrible news.
"Of course, you will understand, dear, how terribly upset I am."
At that moment Mabel entered the room, when Mrs. Wynter-Smith transferred her lamentations.
"Such dreadful things have happened, Mabel. Have you heard?"
"No, Mabel has not vet heard," said Nora. "Be careful, please, Mrs. Wynter-Smith."
"I quite understand that Mabel, as an old friend, will be upset, but I—what am I saying? It is all too horrible to think of, Mabel. Sir Clifford Maxwell is in goal. They say he has killed Howard Bedford, his neighbour; the body was found in his house in the Square yesterday."
The colour which was beginning to return to Mabel's checks faded to a sickly pallor. She looked at Nora wildly.
"So far it is true, Mabel," said Nora.
"There is some hideous mistake; it will all be cleared up, never fear."
"You say Cliff is in trouble, that he is accused of murder; then my place is by his side. Take me to him."
"Steady, old girl, that is impossible," whispered Nora.
Mrs. Wynter-Smith had gone over to the window, and was eagerly reading a sensational placard exhibited in the street by a newsboy.
"Remember," added Nora in a whisper, "we are not alone."
"What does it matter?" said Mabel. "Let all the world know, innocent or guilty, I love Clifford Maxwell."
The words rung out like a challenge. Mrs Wynter-Smith turned from the window and clutched a chair for support.
All the sweetness had gone out of her beautiful face. Those velvety eyes which melted the hearts of men were ablaze with fury.
"You love Clifford Maxwell?" she repeated.
"Yes, I love him to the death and after death," said Mabel.
"My dear Mabel," said Mrs. Wynter-Smith, "this is really absurd; you are allowing your sympathy to make you say foolish things. Of course, everybody loves Clifford Maxwell. He is such a dear, but not in that way. Remember Mr. Brand."
"Mr. Brand is nothing to me."
"But, Mabel, remember Bewley. Surely we all saw, and then the yacht and the cave where he saved your life—"
"I have no desire to discuss Mr. Brand," said Mabel haughtily. "I have no thoughts at this moment for any one but Clifford Maxwell."
Nora stood by and watched the two women. The one radiantly beautiful, the other sweetly simple, but with a quiet determination which made her now in the strength of her love more than a match for her tigress-like rival.
For a few moments nothing was said, and then Mrs. Wynter-Smith turned to Nora and spoke in a voice of forced calmness.
"I think I will go now," she said; "it is good for Sir Clifford that he has so many firm friends."
"Home, madam'" asked her chauffeur, when she came out to the motor.
"No; Bewley Manor, and drive as fast as you dare," she said.
The chauffeur made no comment. He was accustomed to impulsive orders, and the car, when it reached the open country, dashed along the roads at a speed well beyond the legal limit.
Mrs. Wynter-Smith brushed past the servants and burst into the library, where Mr. Brand was sitting at his desk with the receiver of the private telephone at his ear. His face was drawn and anxious as he listened to the message which was coming over.
At the first words of his reply she sprang forward and snatched the instrument from his hand.
MRS. WYNTER-SMITH replaced the receiver as Brand swung round indignantly.
"You fool," she said. "Before you send that message let me tell you something which, if you have any of the feelings of a real, live man in your ice-like nature, will make you wince."
"Hadn't you better sit down and calm yourself?" he said, rising from his own chair and pointing to a seat.
"Oh, this is not the time for formalities!" she said. "Do you know that you were too late that day on the yacht, that Clifford Maxwell had already proposed and had been accepted by Mabel Neville?"
"Pardon me; I distinctly heard all that passed, and the blundering ass had not got to his initial declaration, and even if he had—"
"You think she would have preferred you to him. Yes, that is just like you masterful men who succeed in dominating your own sex. You imagine that no woman can resist you. Mabel Neville this afternoon declared in my presence that she loved Clifford Maxwell."
"Clifford Maxwell is accused of murder; all the women will be in love with him till he is hanged," replied Brand.
"And you imagine that is the extent of Mabel Neville's affections—mere hysterical sympathy. Don't be deceived, Edmond Brand. You have gone a step too far."
"I have gone a step too far, what do you mean?"
"I mean," she said, "that you are going to stand by while Clifford Maxwell is done to death."
"And how do you suppose I could prevent it, even if I would?"
"That message which you were about to send. You are shielding Forbes Regan. You are trying to get him safely out of the country."
"Stop," said Brand, holding up his hand imperatively. "Mind your own business, woman, and don't talk nonsense. I have nothing to do with Forbes Regan's movements."
"No, you are too clever to have anything to do with him," she said; "but all the same, you would see Clifford Maxwell done to death rather than betray him."
"Betray him! What have I to betray?"
"Oh, keep your mask for the outer world, and give me back Clifford Maxwell, that is all I ask!"
Brand rose from his chair and walked slowly over to the woman, whose face was now buried in her hands. Clutching her by the wrists, he looked into her eyes.
"So that's it," he said. "You have played your part too well. You have fallen in love with this chuckle-headed baronet, while I thought you were merely keeping him busy."
"And what if I have?" she said, rising and facing him.
He snapped his fingers and went back to his chair. She followed him, and put her hand on his shoulder.
"Yes, I have fallen in love with him; he is more to me than all the world."
Brand laughed contemptuously.
"So you are playing your own game and not mine now," he said, looking over his shoulder at her. "Pray sit down and let's talk business."
"Business! I have had enough of your business. You love Mabel Neville; it is something to know that for once you love something besides yourself."
"Yes, and I mean to win her," he said, rising and beating the table with his hand. "I mean to win her, though every other creature on God's earth should have to be swept out of my way. If you cannot win him, and by what you have already said you confess to your failure, then your baronet is—"
He shrugged his shoulders, and sitting down again, added quietly:
"An obstacle to be removed."
"Then you admit it is in your power to save him?"
"I admit nothing of the kind. As for saving him, I could not if I would, and under present conditions I would not if I could."
He was quite calm now, a contrast to the infuriated woman whom he tortured by his cynical confidence.
"You think you will win Mabel Neville if you hang Clifford Maxwell?" she said.
"I hang Clifford Maxwell! The law will do that. It is no concern of mine. I suppose you know the story. He fell upon Bedford in a drunken quarrel, and then started a cock-and-bull story about the body having disappeared while he was seeking restoratives. Well,'we shall see what a simple-minded British jury has to say to that yarn."
"And I know there in another side to the story; you know it, too."
"You appear to have better information concerning my knowledge that I have myself," he replied.
"I know that Forbes Regan is keeping out of the way, and I want to know why. If Clifford Maxwell is guilty, let Forbes Regan come forward and say what he knows."
"My good woman, what on earth does Forbes Regan do with the affair? You don't suggest, surely, that it was he, and not Clifford Maxwell, who lived in that weird house in the Square? You are allowing your imagination to run away with you in your zeal for your baronet. By the way, from the time of your arrival I should imagine you have not had dinner. Won't you have some refreshment before you go back to London?"
"You devil," she said, "you always win, but the day will come when your luck will turn."
"Quite dramatic, I am sure," he said. "And now, do get some food, or the excitement will be too much for you."
He rang the bell and gave an order to the servant.
"Of course, you know your way about the house," he said. "You will pardon me if I do not join you In the dining-room; I am rather busy just now."
He made no further sign till she had left the room, and then rang a bell which was answered by Davis, the valet.
It was late at night when Mrs. Wynter-Smith reached London, but she drove to Mr. Shepherd's house.
Mr. Shepherd was sitting in his library in the big chair under the lamp with a book on the rest at his side. He expressed no surprise at seeing, his visitor.
"I am rather late," she said, "but I must talk to somebody. I shall not sleep if I go home."
"You are rather late," he said. "I expected some communication from you before this as to the state of my ward's health."
"Surely, you have been her since her return."
"I called yesterday and saw her.. She seemed very little the better, in fact much the worse for this sea voyage from which you promised so much, and I had a conversation with a Miss Nora Temperley, but may I be permitted to remind you that at your own suggestion you have adopted the role of friend and chaperone for me."
"And I ought to have seen you before. Of course, I know that, but I am so terribly upset. You have heard, of course, about the arrest of Sir Clifford Maxwell?"
"I have. It seems a dreadful affair."
"And you do not know how dreadful it is. You have not heard, I suppose, that your ward is in love with him."
"Indeed; so this was the meaning of the interest which you both took in him."
"You wrong me, Mr. Shepherd, if you think I had anything to do with this unhappy entanglement. I never suspected; there is nothing I would not do to separate these two young people."
Mr. Shepherd looked sharply at the woman from underneath his shaggy eyebrows, but made no comment.
"You do not know, you live so much alone, you do not understand the cross currents into which we have all drifted," she said.
"Perhaps I understand more than any of you imagine," he replied. "But what is the purpose of your visit at this late hour?"
"I want to save Clifford Maxwell's life and I want to save Mabel from him. You have some influence in accomplishing the latter purpose."
"As to that we need say nothing at present," said Mr. Shepherd. "Have you any suggestion to make as to how I can accomplish the other object?"
Mrs. Wynter-Smith opened the door of the room and closed it again. She walked over to Mr. Shepherd and whispered in his ear.
"I have come to you," she said, "because it might not seem strange that I should do so. If I had gone to Mr. Hardy and my visit had become known, they would have suspected something. There is in England at this moment, although he is supposed to be in hiding in France, a man named Forbes Regan. I have nothing but suspicion to guide me, but I believe he has something to do with this affair and is keeping out of the way in consequence. He will be warned and, if not stopped, will again leave the country. I want you to find Mr. Hardy at the Cumberland Hotel, and tell him to-night. I am taking a terrible risk; I must not stay a minute longer. Tell him at once to watch every possible point; I can give no more definite information."
She left the house, and to the gratification of her chauffeur, at last drove home. Mr. Shepherd ran over the directory and took the address of the Cumberland Hotel. He ordered a taxi cab, drove to an underground station, took a ticket for a point somewhat remote from the address he sought, and walked to another station, where he re-booked, and then in a taxi made his way to the Cumberland.
Dick Hardy had just returned after a long and laborious day's work. He was surprised and delighted to see Mr. Shepherd. Alter exchanging a few commonplaces, as though they had met by accident, they went to Hardy's room.
"I have taken a lot of trouble to get here without seeming to come direct," said Mr. Shepherd. "I do not know that it was necessary, but the fears of a third person made me careful, not on my own account. I cannot tell you the source of my information, but there is reason to believe that a person named Forbes Regan, in whom you are interested, is in England."
"Forbes Regan, in England!" exclaimed Hardy. "Where?"
"That is more than I can tell. I am simply informed that he is in England and is likely to leave as soon as possible."
"Then there is not a moment to be lost; but, excuse me, Mr. Shepherd—well, no, it is useless wasting time at this moment to ask for any explanation of your interest in the matter."
"Useless from every point of view," said Mr. Shepherd. "I have accomplished my mission, and there is just one thing I wish to say. If any service I can render will help Clifford Maxwell, you may command it."
With that he left Hardy, and it was not very long before Dick was round at the police station. The time-tables of the principal shipping ports were consulted, and the wires were set at work.
"It is a pity you cannot give us more information," said the inspector. "Of coarse, the man will be disguised."
"But every person who gives any indication of being in disguise will be stopped."
"Unless it is very cleverly done; but we will do our best. We want Mr. Frederick Ramsden, alias Forbes Regan."
"And when you get him the Maxwell case may take a different turn," said Hardy.
"One job at a time," replied the inspector, with non-committal vagueness. "Hullo, what's this?"
A message was brought in by a constable.
"This looks like a matter on which you can help us," said the inspector, handing the slip of paper to Hardy.
>THE message was from Sharp. It had been tapped over the police wires from one of the towns In Hertfordshire. The inspector was asked to see Mr. Hardy if possible, but in any case to watch the occupant of a big motor car with a pointed bonnet and a clouded number-plate which would be coming along the London-road; Mr. Hardy would recognise the car.
"That is the car that nearly ran me down once," said Hardy. "I think I should recognise it again; in any case, I suppose you will take steps to stop any car to-night, that does not show a clear number."
"No, he wants it followed, not stopped, as you will see. Here's another message. Sharp has been in touch with them all along the line; it has been seen passing through another town on the main road."
"Which means that we must get out quickly if we are to be on its track."
They got a swift motor from a garage and went speedily out to the point in North London where the main road from the nearest town to Bewley joined the metropolitan area.
Proceeding slowly, they drew into a side road. There was no traffic at this time of night, and the throb of engines in the distance was easily heard. Then a car stopped.
"That is the car, I'll be bound," said Hardy; "if not, it's the twin brother of the one that nearly ran me down. I had a good look at it, because it was zigzagging all over the place. He is putting his number right, so that he will not got stopped when he gets into London."
"And there is every chance that it is a faked number, anyway, if they are up to some mischief with it," said the inspector.
The car started again. The policeman chauffeur backed his car, and just as the oncoming car passed the turning appeared to be motoring down a side road. He kept in sight of the back light without drawing too near, until they began to got nearer town. The theatre traffic was over, and, with the exception of a few casual taxis, they had often the busy streets to themselves. This was not an advantage. It was difficult to avoid the appearance of a procession.
The man in front, however, apparently had no idea he was being followed. He turned westward and drew up in front of an all-night garage.
"Down this side street, quick,"' said the inspector to his chauffeur. "Drop us there, and then put your own machine up in the garage. Find out, if you can, who the man is."
The occupant of the car, however, did not take it into the garage himself. He jumped off and left it with the man who came out, and then hurried away on foot.
He disappeared in a block of buildings. They rushed up to the door, but he had got a clear start, and it was impossible to say which of the many sets of rooms he had entered. They determined to watch from the outside.
Before many minutes had elapsed he came out again; they knew him by the heavy motor coat, which almost met the goggles on his eyes.
He made his way round to the garage, and was about to mount the car.
"One minute," said the inspector, stepping forward, "I fancy there is something wrong with your number. Will you kindly tell me whose car this is?"
"Oh, it is all right; you will find it in the register! Mr. Broadwood, of Hertfordshire."
"Quite sure it is not Mr. Forbes Regan's," said Hardy, stepping forward, "Your disguise is all right, but you forgot to change your voice."
"Now, then, drop it," said the inspector, clutching the man's wrist and shaking a revolver on to the floor of the garage.
Forbes Regan saw that he was overmatched. He allowed them to pull off the goggles and turn down the collar of the motor- coat.
"And now that you appear to be taking what liberties you think fit with me," he said, "perhaps you will say what right you have to act as you are doing."
"I am a police officer," said the inspector, "and I have a warrant for the arrest of Frederick Ramsden, who is wanted in Australia."
"Oh, that old story!" said Regan contemptuously. "I am prepared to meet all they can say against me there at a proper time and proper place."
"Meantime," said the inspector, "you will come with me."
He was taken to the police-station in the motor which had been used for tracking down the mysterious car, and orders were left at the garage to hold the latter until they received further instructions from the police.
The following morning Sharp communicated with the police office, and was told they had bagged his man. When he heard the full story from Hardy he was surprised and obviously mystified.
"I don't think Forbes Regan was the man who left Bewley in the car," he said.
"Whom did you expect to find here, then?" asked Hardy.
"Well, I wasn't sure, but I had a pretty good idea that the man who drove the car away was Davis, the valet, and yet I cannot quite make it out, because I saw Davis this morning, and I don't see how he could have got back if the car is tied up, unless he took another car somewhere, because he didn't come by any morning train."
"But whose car is it?" asked Hardy.
"That is another mystery," said Sharp. "From what occurred on the Voyage I was anxious to see more of Mr. Davis, and I got my chief to detail me for duty to keep an eye upon him at Bewley. I was hanging around last night when I saw a man in a motor-car about the spot where you told me you had that little affair with Forbes Regan. He had just lit his lamps in the road, and was getting the car in motion. Where the car came from I could not say. Something familiar about the style of the man attracted me. I was dressed like a country man, and I asked him the road to Bewley village, hoping he would offer me a lift so far as he was going that way. He merely gave me the direction and pushed off; then I thought I recognised the voice, and wanted to know what his game was. I would have jumped up behind, but, as you know, the car is pointed back and forward, one of those high-speed cars, which just seat a couple, so the best thing I could do was to get into Bewley village as quick as I could, borrow the local constable's bicycle, and get to the nearest point where I could tap up the station here in London."
"And you don't think it was Forbes Regan's voice."
"I am pretty well certain it was not, though I only remember Forbes Regan by his calling at the police office to make inquiries about Howard Bedford."
"Of course," said Hardy, "there was plenty opportunity for him to change clothes with Forbes Regan between the time when he went into the block of buildings and our seeing the man come out. You may depend that is the game; Davis came up to London to warn Forbes Regan to clear, and if you had not been smart he would have got away in the car just as he got away from the island. It was Davis, no doubt, who worked that for him as well."
"And the trouble is we have nothing to go upon to charge Davis with conspiring to defeat Justice," said Sharp ruefully.
"But do we want Davis by the heels just yet?" asked Hardy. "I think we have other fish to fry with him. By the way, Sharp, I expect you will receive orders in the course of the day to change chiefs for the time being. I have got the Admiralty to apply to the police authorities for the loan of your services for special duty, and I believe the application will be favourably considered."
"Very good, sir," said Sharp in the official formula, and then he added: "Perhaps, sir, you will be good enough to let me say that I am much obliged to you for giving me a chance."
"Well. I hope it will be a good chance," said Hardy. "It may mean a big thing for both of us, and I have a notion we have struck the right track."
When Sharp next reported himself at his headquarters the formal transfer of his services for special duty had been duly arranged, and he was instructed to place himself under the orders of Commander Hardy.
Hardy, meantime, had seen the solicitors who had the defence of Clifford Maxwell in hand, and had recommended to them a smart private inquiry agent with long police experience.
"I cannot tell you how much I should have wished to throw myself entirely into the task of clearing my friend," he said, "but I have other duties which will occupy my attention, and it is just possible those duties may not be altogether unconnected with the solution of this problem. The two seem to be running so much in similar grooves that they must have some connection with each other. I cannot say any more just at present, but please assure Maxwell that if you do not hear from me it will not be because I have deserted him."
At the adjourned Coroner's inquest Clifford Maxwell told the simple tale as he had originally related it to the police. He declined to give full particulars of the cause of the quarrel. He merely said that they had an altercation on a matter concerning which they could not agree.
He knew that if he had brought in Mabel's name that part of the affair would be seized upon as the most piquant element in the sensation, and her name would be bandied about in every quarter where the subject was discussed.
This was another weak point in his defence. He could not explain how the body got into his house, and when it was further evident that he had some cause of quarrel with Howard Bedford which he would not reveal the evidence against him appeared unanswerable.
At the Coroner's Court his refusal to state what occurred before he struck Bedford was accepted with little comment, but his own solicitor knew that if he went into the witness-box at his trial, counsel for the prosecution in cross-examination would so emphasise this point that it would be convincing proof of his guilt with the jury.
The Coroner's jury brought in a verdict of wilful murder against him. The magistrate before whom he was brought committed him for trial, and the general public treated his story with indignant contempt.
The interest in the Bedford mystery was superseded by another sensation; the mystery, in fact, was solved so far as public opinion was concerned.
On the day when Clifford Maxwell was finally sent back to prison to await his trial, Dick Hardy was busily engaged at various points in London, and late in the evening he drove over to Mr. Shepherd's house. He rang the bell and waited. There was no answer. He rang again and knocked, and then tried the door.
It was on the catch. He was about to turn away when a rumbling sound, as of heavy things tumbling on a floor, attracted him. Without any hesitation he wrapped his handkerchief round his hand and drove his fist through a glass paneling at the side. From this he was able to reach the latch and slide it back. Then he dashed into the hall and stumbled over something which sent him staggering against the library door.
The room was in darkness. He felt along the wall for the electric switch; the light was thrown with full force on to the big chair.
"Heavens, am I too late?" he gasped.
MR. SHEPHERD was tied securely in his chair with a gag in his mouth. His head had been forced back. Hardy at the first glance thought he was dead.
Pulling out a clasp knife, he cut the cords and then untied the gag.
The released prisoner shook himself free of the cords, and then rising from the chair, tottered to a cupboard.
"Better sit down a bit," said Hardy. "Let me get you a stimulant."
He looked round the room; there were no signs of a struggle. The recluse had evidently been caught from behind as he was sitting in his favourite chair.
The only furniture disturbed was the bookcase. The heavy books on one of the top shelves had been thrown on the floor. This was the sound which he had heard through the door.
He ran through the open French window and found the door in the garden wall shut and apparently locked from the outside.
"There is no chance of catching them up," he said, coming back to the room, "so you had better pull yourself together before you try to tell me the story."
"See if my man is all right," said Shepherd, sinking into a chair. He was still too exhausted to go himself.
"He is somewhere in the hall, I think," he added.
Hardy turned up the light in the hall and then saw that he had fallen over the body of Mr. Shepherd's servant, who was lying there bound and gagged like his master. He released him, and found that he was not very much hurt. He was younger than Mr. Shepherd, and stood the shock better.
The man preferred to recover himself in his own pantry, and Hardy went back to the library.
They closed the French windows, and seating himself at the table, Mr. Shepherd explained what had occurred.
"After you disturbed the burglar when you called on me the other day," he said; "I instructed my man to buy a bull terrier. He got an excellent house-dog, and for a while made a point of taking the beast round the garden with him every night. This evening the dog strayed away, and the man went out to look for him. He had previously seen that everything was right in the garden. I was sitting in my chair reading, when somebody must have crept behind me as noiselessly as a cat, and I was securely bound as you found me before I could resist or cry out."
"And your man?"
"He was still standing out in the front garden whistling to the dog. The marauders took a risk, as a passing policeman might have been attracted at any moment, but as it happens they were cunning in that respect. The daring impudence of the attack put me off my guard. After they had secured me they stepped into the hall. I heard voices at the door; a caller was apparently giving some information about the dog, and the man asked him inside. Then the door banged and there was the sound of a struggle."
"But the man can be recognised," said Hardy.
"I doubt it very much. The persons who attacked me were masked, and I suppose the man who lured my servant into the hall would he disguised also."
"And now, Mr. Shepherd," said Hardy, watching him closely, "what was the object of their visit? Obviously it was not a case of ordinary house-breaking."
"It certainly was not; they wished to find a certain document."
"And they found it?"
"No! You will notice that where they have thrown down the books there is a kind of miniature cupboard between the shelf and the wall which the books concealed. They thought they would get what they required there, but I removed it some time ago. In fact, I was released from a certain obligation, and I burnt it."
"And is it a fair question to ask what was in the document?"
"Better let it die," said Mr. Shepherd. "Everybody who has any right to be interested is dead except myself."
"And was Sir Clifford Maxwell's father one of those persons?"
"What makes you ask that question?" said Shepherd, turning almost fiercely.
"Your interest in Maxwell suggested it. Of course, I quite understand it was not mere coincidence that made you Mabel Neville's guardian, and induced you to send Clifford work to keep body and soul together in his days of poverty."
"I did not pretend that it was," said Shepherd; "but Clifford Maxwell has now come into his own. The money I invested privately for the sake of his father has matured, and we need not discuss the past. I have no objection to telling you that I did know his father well. I knew Mabel Neville's father well, very well. We were schoolmates many years ago, then we drifted apart, but chance brought us together again under circumstances where fast friendships are made which can hardly be appreciated in a country like this. We were the only three men of British birth in a land where civilisation had not yet penetrated. You have travelled, and you may understand the bond that was between us. Each had to trust the others with his life."
"Yes, yes," said Hardy, "I can raise the kind of confidence that existed between you; but pardon me if I seem impertinent. Had you the same tenderness towards the children of your friends?"
"I know what is passing in your mind," said Mr. Shepherd. "You think that because I remained a crusted bachelor, with my thoughts centred on travel and on books, that I could not appreciate my two friends, when Henry Neville came home and settled down with a charming wife to his rightful position as a county gentleman and William Maxwell, though he still roamed about the world, also married. You think it is the old story that the marriage of your friend deprived you of a pal, and you are jealous of the woman who has absorbed all his affections. It was not so in my case. I was only too glad to see them happy, and perhaps—"
He paused, and a reminiscent look came into his eyes. Hardy did not interrupt his thoughts.
"Human affections are a strange thing," he went on, with apparent irrelevancy. "I suppose no man has ever yet been able to explain on logical grounds why a woman prefers one man to all others."
"Nor, for that matter, why a man prefers one woman to all others, I presume," said Hardy, with a laugh.
Dick was not given to philosophising, and could not take it seriously in others.
"I suppose you are right," said Shepherd, still talking half to himself, "but I am wearying you with these far-off memories," he added.
"On the contrary, I am keenly interested," said Dick. "You were telling me about your friendship: with Neville and Maxwell."
"And my attitude towards their children. You think I have been harsh with them, but since I have told you so much, let me confess that Henry Neville was not the only man who loved Mabel's mother. Two men loved her, but one confessed his love and won; the other nursed his affection in secret and remained true to the memory of that which he had failed to achieve. He went his way, was unknown to the new friends which the woman and her husband found in England. From that day, when he knew she was happy in the love of his friend, he never saw her again."
"And did Mr. Neville know?"
"He did not. His friend determined that not a single word or look of his should ever disturb the happiness of the woman whom he loved. He was loyal also to his friend, who left him guardian of his child."
"An embarrassing trust to a man with no experience of family life."
"It was, but I was proud of the trust, though you may think I exhibited my pride in an unorthodox way. I did not reorganise my establishment or pretend to take the girl into society. Whatever may happen to me or mine, she has the satisfaction of knowing that she is not dependent upon my name or upon my money."
"But you naturally assumed that some day she would marry?"
"Yes, and marry the man of her own choice; and if my hopes were to be realised, marry a man who himself had known something of the struggles of life."
"Clifford Maxwell, for instance.'"
"I should not have spoken to you thus plainly of my private affairs, Mr. Hardy, but for the fact that nothing is dearer to me now than the hope of seeing the children of my two old friends man and wife. I have my own way of testing people, my own likes and dislikes, and I believe in Clifford Maxwell. I believe in you, I know you to be his friend. That is why I have told you all this. I want you to understand that every penny I possess, every ounce of energy I have, I am prepared to devote to any effort that will secure his acquittal of the terrible charge that is hanging over him."
"You know, then, that Clifford and Mabel are in love with each other?"
"Perhaps I have had my views on that subject even before the young people knew it themselves. But in any case, a mutual friend has been good enough to tell me of more recent developments."
"Mrs Wynter-Smith," said Hardy. "Is it a fair question, Mr Shepherd, to ask what are the precise relations between Mrs Wynter-Smith, your ward, and yourself."
"The lady's husband was a man whom I happened to know, and his widow, as you may know, is a distant relative of mine, who at her own request became the friend of Mabel. I did not want the girl to be entirely without society, and so the friendship has ripened."
"And you are quite sure she is a real friend of Mabel?"
"On that point I must admit I now have some doubt, but I prefer rather to leave her out of consideration at the moment."
Hardy saw that there was an element of restraint in the conversation at this point. Mr. Shepherd evidently did not want to talk about Mrs. Wynter-Smith, and he was not a man to be forced. The night was growing late, and Hardy had not yet approached the purpose of his visit, which, by a coincidence, was indirectly connected with the exciting incident that had occurred just before his arrival.
"I hope, Mr Shepherd, after what has passed between us, you will clearly understand I am acting in the best interest of us all, and not seeming to pry into your personal affairs, if I return to the subject of the document which you have destroyed. That document was, it I mistake not, a plan."
"How did you know that?" asked Mr. Shepherd excitedly.
"I did not know it. I only assumed it. I see I am right. Let me make another suggestion. In your young days you were a skilled engineer?"
"Yes, I was; hence, as you will notice, the works on my shelves are very largely scientific books. But how does this affect Clifford Maxwell? My one purpose now is to free him, firstly because he is the son of his father, and more because I believe Mabel Neville wants him. All other matters are, for the time being, of trifling importance."
"Are you sure?" said Hardy, "are you sure?" he added, speaking very slowly and looking searchingly at Mr. Shepherd, "that the man who keeps the key to the Trogon mystery cannot use it to help the son of William Maxwell?"
The effect of these words on John Shepherd astonished even Hardy.
He leapt to his feet and clutched the other man by the shoulders with a grip that shook the strong frame of the sailor.
"WHAT do you know of the Trogon mystery?" said Shepherd. His eyes were fixed on Hardy as though he would read his soul. "Do not think," he said suddenly, thrusting the sailor aside with a movement that sent him staggering to the other end of the room, "that here threats and bribes have failed you are going to cajole me by any pretence of friendship for Clifford Maxwell."
"Pretence of friendship," repeated Hardy. "You little know your man, Mr. Shepherd. And yet I have an idea that I understand your feelings. You think this is another plot to worm out of you a secret which you have sternly refused to reveal. You are mistaken."
"Then why have you come to me? Why do you wish to recall the past?"
"Only in so far as it may help the present," said Hardy.
"And you wish me to understand that you have no connection whatever with these other people. Then, why," he added, with a bitterly satirical smile, "did you happen to come on both occasions when my house was invaded. You were here when the man broke into my garden the other day, and knew of his presence there."
"I did not know; I suspected, and my suspicions were confirmed."
"You suspected that a rival might get it before you, and you have ingratiated yourself with me so that you might obtain by diplomacy what they failed to get by force. No, Mr. Hardy, the secret has been swallowed up in the flames; no phoenix will rise from those ashes."
"Oh, yes, Mr. Shepherd!" said Hardy, "the Phoenix will rise and it will be transformed to a dove of peace."
"Never. It is useless to argue with me. I am grateful to you for what you have done, whether it be in your own interest or not, and, however, Mr. Hardy, our acquaintance must cease. It is late, and I am tired."
"Such a hint, of course, under ordinary circumstances, Mr. Shepherd, no man of self-respect could ignore, but I am not going. I have something more to say to you, and it must be said to-night."
"You waste your time."
"Not my time, Mr. Shepherd, but the time of those whom I serve. You have hitherto spoken of people who desire to obtain your secret for purposes evil. Do you think it impossible to contemplate the probability that your knowledge may be used for good."
"I do; no good can come of it. I tell you the thing is dead. No man and no body of men will induce me to resurrect it."
"And yet there is a force stronger than any man or any body of men. That force, Mr. Shepherd, is behind me, and It has got to he used; that force is the service of the King."
"Pshaw," said Mr. Shepherd contemptuously. "You imagine that you can frighten me by posing as a detective. Even if you were, what could you do? I have committed no crime."
"I honestly do not think you have. Otherwise I should not waste time arguing with you."
"Then what do you propose to do if I order you out of the house, since you will not take a gentlemanly hint."
"I propose," said Hardy, sitting down at the desk opposite the chair in which Mr. Shepherd had now seated himself, "to lay my cards on the table."
"Another dodge to induce me to lay mine there also."
"You had better reserve your judgment on that till you have heard what I have to say. You suggested just now that I might be posing as a detective. I am not, but my work might perhaps bear some similarity to that branch of the service. I am a sailor by training and profession, Mr. Shepherd, and I am detailed for special duty. It may involve work which is not strictly that of a sailor, but my training has taught me to do my duty wherever I may be sent."
"Very commendable, but really not relevant, Mr. Hardy," said Shepherd, who had now calmed down and was resuming his ordinary exclusive manner.
"Oh, yes! quite relevant," said Hardy. "To put the matter more plainly, I am connected with the Intelligence Department of the Admiralty. I have been detailed for special duty to track down certain irregularities committed by persons who have been tampering with cables, and I mean to do the job, Mr. Shepherd."
"You speak as though I were putting obstacles in your way."
"You are refusing me your help, which is almost as bad."
"But you are quite mistaken. For nearly twenty years now I have ceased to have any actual interest in cables. I made my money—the money which has enabled me to help others—in other ways. The present day cable system is only known to me as it is known to the general public."
"But in the earlier stages you were a skilled engineer far in advance of your fellows. You suddenly threw up your profession in which everybody expected you would be a brilliant success."
"Yes, that is my own affair," said Shepherd stubbornly.
Hardy drew the blotting pad towards him, and picking up a pencil began tracing some lines upon it.
"Just examine that rough plan, Mr. Shepherd," he said. "It will interest you. That long line is a main cable; these smaller lines are local cables that from time to time have been taken over by the bigger companies, and there are others which have been allowed to lie derelict and have been rendered useless by depreciation and flood. These are the known cables, but in the early days others were laid, the position of which no authentic plan exists."
Mr. Shepherd was gazing intently at the lines on the blotting pad, and his eyes were directed specially to a blank space around a series of dots.
"I need not explain to you," said Hardy, "that over this main cable there are messages going from day to day, some in cipher, some in plain terms, affecting thousands and perhaps millions of money. Inside information of what is going on between great financial houses and great organisations might be used with advantage."
"I know, I know," said Shepherd, now growing excited in spite of himself.
"Leakages occasionally occur, and when they do they are generally detected. But there is reason to believe that a series of tappings amounting to a general system has been going on. The persons who ore working it are exceedingly clever, and every effort to discover them has hitherto failed. They do not allow themselves to go too far, and their operations cease when people might be presumed to grow suspicious. In fact, they are gradually becoming masters of the situation, and the gang will have to be broken up. They have skilled men amongst them."
"But they will be all younger men; the men of my day have passed out."
"Yet I have an idea which I think is sound," said Hardy, "that they are making experiments with cables which have gone out of legitimate use. The cables which were laid in the earlier days were either abandoned or not completed for lack of funds."
He watched Mr. Shepherd's eager face as the old engineer bent over the blotting pad. The youthful enthusiasm of the man of science was reawakened.
"Let us assume," said Hardy, running the tip of his pencil over certain lines, "that somewhere between this point and this point there are the foundations of a cable. The end of it could be joined on to the main cable at this point for a while and then disconnected. We will imagine a chain of these communications of which one link is missing. It is too risky to forge that link; the fitting out of an expedition for the purpose with the cable ships and appliances cannot be conducted in secret in these days, but if plans could be obtained showing exactly what was done years ago, and on this foundation what work can be done to-day, there Is just a possibility that this link might be discovered."
Shepherd leant back in his chair and looked at Hardy for several moments. Amazement and admiration were mingled in the expression on his strong face.
"Why were you not an engineer?" he asked suddenly.
"Oh, I did my turn in my general naval training."
"Oh, yes, you all go through it nowadays, I had forgotten!" said Shepherd.
"And now," said Hardy, "I think I have told you enough to show you that I do know something. At present I admit it is all theory. I have worked hard on my theory and I am going to follow it up. To give you proof of my candour with you I will confess that my reference to the Trogon mystery was a chance shot, but it got home. I merely assumed that such a link might be found in the Trogon Islands. At what point I do not know. It would take years of search, and would have to be conducted on an elaborate scale. That is why I have come to you. Time is everything now with us, as it is with those whom we are tracking down. They have come to steal your plans: I have come to tell you my own story, and I leave it to your sense of honour to judge how far you should help me."
"In what way can I help you?"
"I leave to-morrow with some picked men, and before I come back I mean to get this thing worked out. You can help me if you will come also. I have a free hand and I can ship you as a civilian consulting engineer."
"And Clifford Maxwell, what of him?"
"The sessions at the Old Bailey are still on; he has just missed them. He will not be on trial for a month, and by that time our work ought to have succeeded, and will succeed if you help us. My original purpose in coming here to-night was to ask you to come with us. The incident which occurred immediately before my arrival only confirms my suspicion that the other side are on the same game, which proves that the chase is growing sterner every day."
"I will come with you," said Mr. Shepherd in a sharp, decisive tone, which was sufficient to assure Hardy that the man was now entirely on his side.
"But you have not yet explained," he added, "how this enquiry helps Clifford Maxwell."
"On that point I am not absolutely clear, but many little things have occurred which led me to suppose that the men who are Clifford Maxwell's enemies are bound up with the cable conspiracy. There is more than a fair chance that if we can torpedo them we shall pick up something from the wreck that will be of service to the son of William Maxwell."
MR SHEPHERD'S arrangements were soon made. He only stipulated that his man should come with him, and to this Hardy, who wanted their movements kept secret, readily assented.
They went by different trains to Portsmouth. Hardy spent a good deal of the day of his departure with Nora Temperley. They took Mabel Neville out to lunch, and Hardy with his cheery optimism was able to brighten the prospect for her with an assurance that things would work out well at the finish. Mabel left Nora to say her good-byes alone and returned late in the afternoon to the house in London at which they were staying.
Nora's aunt was out and her husband, who was a member of Parliament, was at Westminster.
Mabel was day-dreaming alone in the drawing-room when a card was brought in a closed envelope.
"The gentleman is waiting," said the servant.
On the back of the card was scribbled the words, "On urgent business connected with Sir Clifford Maxwell."
MABEL had read the written words on the card first. She turned to the reverse side and shuddered as she saw the name of Mr. Edmond Brand printed in small, neat type.
She clutched the card in her hand and was about to throw it away when she remembered that the servant was watching her.
"Show the gentleman up," she said.
"So good of you to see me, Miss Neville," said the immaculately clad man while the servant was closing the door.
Mabel remained standing and did not ask her visitor to be seated.
"May I ask," she said, "what is the business connected with Clifford Maxwell concerning which you wish to see me?"
"This is surely somewhat abrupt, if I may say so," said Mr. Brand with one of his insinuating smiles. He put his well-ironed hat on the table as he spoke.
"Apparently," he added, "you are keenly interested in the fate of Clifford Maxwell. Yet I have not gathered from his attentions hitherto that you had any particular cause to regard him as any more than a friend with somewhat casual manners towards you."
"I do not think it is necessary that we should discuss Sir Clifford Maxwell's manners," she replied haughtily.
"Possibly not; in fact, I do not suppose it will be necessary for anybody except his lawyers to discuss Sir Clifford Maxwell at all in the near future. But why all this pretence. Mabel. Your sympathy for this misguided baronet is extremely kind and commendable. You must not, however, allow your sympathy for him to deaden your friendship for prosaic people who have not been fated to shine in the limelight."
The cold cynicism of the words and the tone in which they were uttered stung Mabel to the quick. She had a feeling, too, that they were so intended.
She hated this man now as wholeheartedly as she loved Clifford Maxwell.
To show her contempt for him she sat down in a chair and opened a book.
At first he watched her with an amused smile, and then stepping towards her took the book out of her hand.
"Oh, you are still there, Mr. Brand," she said; "I'm sorry I forgot to ring for the servant to show you out."
She rose and walked towards the electric bell. He caught her hands in his.
"You will not ring until you have heard what I have to say to you," he said. "You are acting a part, Mabel, and you think you are acting it well. You don't want me to go."
She wrenched her hands free from his and faced him defiantly.
"Why do you say I do not wish you to go?" she asked.
"Because, Mabel," he said, speaking in his tenderest tones, "your woman's vanity prompts you to let me make love to you and your pride tells you that you will have the satisfaction of refusing a man. You allowed me to make love to you before and you believed you were strong enough to resist me. I told you then that the time would come when you would not wish to resist me; I tell you that again and now no more of these little mutual challenges. Let us talk as we did in the early days of our most happy meetings before your nerves were upset by that deplorable accident."
"You said you wished to see me on business connected with Sir Clifford Maxwell," said Mabel coldly. "Why did you write that?"
"Perhaps." he said, "it was because I have called before and you refused to see me."
"Then it was a mere subterfuge. Do you think that manly or fair?"
"I will not trouble you with the hackneyed quotation concerning love and war, but I think you must know me sufficiently to be aware that by one means or the other I should insist on seeing you."
"Your determination is misapplied, Mr. Brand. If you have anything to say that really matters concerning Sir Clifford Maxwell, I am prepared to listen to it, but I must ask you not to endeavour to discuss other matters with me. I hope I may at least appeal to your sense of good taste."
"Under any other circumstances, yes, but love beats down all conventions. To love such as mine there are no canons of orthodoxy."
"But to a gentleman there are at least rules to the game."
"No, my love for you knows nothing of rules; it is not a game; it is life, itself."
"Then perhaps your pride will assert itself when I tell you that you are inviting humiliation by confessing your love to me."
"Ultimate success will recompense me for every passing humiliation you may imagine you are inflicting upon me. My dear Mabel, have you not yet realised that this is not a mere commonplace affair of engagements. I have never experienced any of the petty romances that amuse boys, or indulged in the futile flirtations of society. Till I met you, women were to me like men; sometimes more stupid, sometimes more clever—entitled by the traditions and customs of my social sphere to more deference perhaps, and there it all began and ended. In you I have found that inspiration which makes every other thought or emotion trivial. Mabel, I cannot, I will not live without you."
There was a look of anguish in the man's eyes which almost softened Mabel's heart. She was strong enough now in her love for Clifford not to fear him, and in her strength she pitied him.
He saw that his words had produced some effect.
"You will listen to me, Mabel; I shall win you some day and that day will be soon," he said "Put all foolish fancies about Clifford Maxwell out of your mind. Do not let a mistaken sense of chivalry tie your affections to a man who is unworthy of you."
These words killed the glimmer of sympathy which he had aroused.
"Your references to Sir Clifford Maxwell, Mr Brand, are gratuitous and impertinent. Again I must ask you to go."
She turned from him and was about to walk towards the bell once more. He stood in front of her. His face was livid. The self-possessed Mr. Brand, as the world knew him, had disappeared; a man obsessed with an all-absorbing passion had superseded him.
"You think you owe a duty to Clifford Maxwell," he said; "what if I offer you Clifford Maxwell's life in return for your love."
"I don't understand you," said Mabel.
"Perhaps not, but what would you say if I could assure you that there are ways of saving Clifford Maxwell?"
"If such ways do exist and you know them, it is your duty to use them."
"I came here with that intention," he said, "if you had treated me kindly at first it would never have been necessary for me to speak as I am speaking now. But let this opportunity pass and your baronet shall die like a felon!"
"Die like a felon! Then you know he is not a felon. If you know that, you are a felon yourself if you permit him to die."
"And shall I save him that he may rob me of you?"
"He cannot rob you of that which you never possessed and which you never can possess."
"I shall possess you and I shall possess you on the day that Clifford Maxwell is a free man. You have forced me to put it in that way, Mabel, but that is a bargain between us."
"Bargain! You have come to levy blackmail for a fellow creature's life. Can there be any bargain with such a person?"
"Then I was right; you have no real love for Clifford Maxwell; there is satisfaction in that knowledge. You would not give yourself to save him. Pshaw! girl, you don't know what love is, but I will teach you."
"Will you sit down and calm yourself, Mr. Brand? I have something to say to you," said Mabel.
Their relative positions had now changed completely. She was the masterful person; he obeyed her. The change in her manner amazed him. Mabel herself was surprised at the ease with which she assumed the controlling power.
"It is possible, Mr. Brand," she said, seating herself on a chair some distance from him and gently fanning herself, "that you may have misunderstood me when I was your guest at Bewley and on your yacht. Then for the time being I reverted to the life which I was intended to follow—the life of the girl of leisure subject to the moods and weaknesses of persons who have no other object than merely passing the time away. Environment influenced me, but that is past."
"Past, only to be renewed," said Brand.
"Don't interrupt me," said Mabel in a tone that silenced him; "I sometimes thought that my guardian, Mr. Shepherd, was needlessly severe in his ideas, but I have reason to be grateful to him now. He insisted on me having a business training and he found me work to do; hence, I know something of worldly matters. If I were merely an emotional society lady I should be on my knees at your feet imploring you to have pity on my lover. But as a business women I know that there are other ways of dealing with men like you."
"Other ways! What do you mean?"
"I mean, Mr. Edmond Brand, that you are either powerless to influence the fate of Clifford Maxwell, and your attempt to blackmail me is a mere empty threat, or if you have any information the law will be strong enough to insure that you do not defeat the ends of justice."
Her cool, matter-of-fact tone calmed Brand's frenzy, and he was recovering his normal self-confidence.
"And so, my fair Portia," he said with a cynical smile, "you are to be another Daniel come to judgment. May I ask how you propose to put the law into operation? Remember, I have told you nothing."
"You have told me more than you intended, perhaps. Indeed, I do not quite remember all that you said a few moments ago. I shall take my own way of acting upon it, and now finally, Mr. Brand, good-bye."
"Then it is to be war between us," he said, holding out his hand.
She ignored him; he opened his lips as though about to speak, and then, turning away, strode from the room.
As soon as he was gone she went into the hall and rang up the telephone. There was no time for regrets and day dreams now; she had a purpose to pursue.
Edmond Brand, as he left the house, had a vague fear that he had gone too far. The changed manner of the woman troubled him more than he cared to admit to himself.
He drove to Mrs. Wynter-Smith's house. The servants, acting on permanent orders opened the door and stood aside for him to pass.
Mrs. Wynter-Smith was sitting at a table with a pile of invitations ready addressed in front of her. With the motion of his arm he swept them aside.
"Quit this foolery," he said. "I have work for you to do."
"SO the imperturbable Mr. Brand is human after all," said Mrs. Wynter-Smith. "You have been to see Mabel Neville."
"How did you know that?"
"Only one thing can disturb the serenity of a man of your temperament. I have often wondered what you would be like when you really fell in love."
"I am not interested in your cheap philosophy," said Brand.
"But I am very much interested in your love affairs; aren't you going to tell me that the fair maiden has thrown herself into your arms; that you have conquered her as you have conquered everybody else. You have come to tell me how happy you are and what a joy life is and the work you wish me to do is to prepare for a wedding worthy of your station in life and the incomparable lady whom you are about to make your wife."
"You are pleased to indulge your imagination, Mrs. Wynter- Smith."
"Imagination; am I then wrong in assuming that the all- powerful Edmond Brand has proved irresistible as ever? Is the truth, then, that he has discovered in his first serious affair that every woman has not been waiting and pining for the honour of surrendering to him at the first onslaught? It is good for the world that the vanity of men like you should sometimes receive a check."
Brand was leaning against the mantel-piece in his elegant way by force of habit, and he watched Mrs. Wynter-Smith with a puzzled air.
"Perhaps," he said at length, in something like his old cynical coldness, "when you have completely unburdened your mind of its fancies, you will explain what is the meaning of this hysterical nonsense."
"What is the meaning of it," said Mrs. Wynter-Smith, standing opposite him, "it means that it is worth while having lived to see you beaten at last. You have made puppets of men and women to work out your schemes; you have assumed that human feelings did not matter. You thought it incredible that a woman like myself could have any other inspiration that social success and ambition. You used me to decoy the girl who appealed to your sense of the artistic and to lure away from your own fancy the man whom you regarded as a possible impediment. It never struck you that I might have a different kind of feeling towards Clifford Maxwell."
"You could have married your baronet and you would be welcome to him for me at any time," said Brand.
"Exactly, marry the baronet. You thought that the acquisition of a title of itself would be a handsome reward for everything I might have done for you. You have estimated men and women at a price. Is there any price that would buy your love for Mabel Neville?"
Brand made no reply, and Mrs. Wynter-Smith laughed in his face.
"So I have put you a question which you dare not answer," she said. "You now understand, perhaps, that you were mistaken when you appraised other people, or do you still assume that your newly-discovered human side is a special monopoly of your own."
Brand paced up and down the room without attempting to answer the stinging jibes which the woman flung at him.
"Do I understand," he said at last, "that you intend to break with me, that we no longer have any purpose in common?"
"It depends what that purpose is. If you mean that you are willing to do your best to secure Clifford Maxwell's freedom, then, indeed, you may count on me."
"As a preliminary it is necessary that Mabel Neville should be convinced of her folly. I assume you are willing to co-operate with me there. As for Clifford Maxwell, why should you feel so tenderly for him? I should imagine you have nothing to be proud of in his treatment of you."
"You forget that I have not yet heard from Clifford Maxwell that he is in love with Mabel Neville. I have only heard Mabel Neville declare that she was in love with him."
"Yet you yourself told me that I was too late on the yacht and that Maxwell had proposed to her."
"I assumed that, but I have not heard it from him."
"Then you admit there is still some doubt on the point. You have had letters from Clifford Maxwell from time to time?"
"Non committal notes only."
"And you have kept them?"
"Well I am not sure that I burnt them all."
"Oh, don't assume a silly reticence. Of course, you have the letters. Give them to me."
"For what purpose do you want them?"
"Not for the mere sake of taking lessons in the art of letter writing; hand them over to me, and don't waste time. You shall have them back."
"But what are you going to do with them?"
"Don't you know me well enough to understand that I never discuss my plans in detail. I have told you I want the letters for a purpose. Your own judgment must tell you that since it is my object to separate Clifford Maxwell and Mabel Neville, my purpose is so far yours. Is that not sufficient?"
Mrs. Wynter-Smith unlocked a small desk and handed a bundle of letters to Brand, who put them in his inside pocket.
"And now," he said, "I must be going. There is one word I would like to say to you before I go; don't let your feelings betray you into forgetting that if and when the moment comes that we are open enemies, you need expect no mercy from me."
She watched him through the window as he drove off from the door and then fell into a chair. The effort to maintain an attitude of defiance had been an exacting strain. The reaction following on his last warning left her trembling with fear.
"Does he suspect?" she murmured, rocking herself in the chair.
EDMOND BRAND drove next to the office of the Ajax Land Development Co. The clerks had gone. Graham was alone in the board-room.
"What is the latest development concerning Forbes Regan?" asked Brand.
"The police are extremely reticent—extremely reticent," said Graham in his slow, deliberate way.
"But they must make a move. What is the charge against him?"
"Nominally he is charged with an offence committed in Australia some years ago, and they have had no difficulty in getting him remanded in custody until the necessary formalities have been observed. They are not proceeding very rapidly."
"Meanwhile they still maintain that Clifford Maxwell is the murderer of Howard Bedford."
"He has been committed for trial, and there will be a month between now and the Old Bailey Sessions, during which they will get their own counsel."
"But you must discover what that counsel is. We must know more of their movements; I want you also to supply me with information concerning the movements of Mrs Wynter-Smith and Miss Mabel Neville."
Mr. Graham slowly wiped his spectacles, holding them up to the light—a habit he had when thinking deeply.
"I am not a great believer," he said, "in bringing women into business affairs."
"But they must be brought in; it is essential that they should. Understand. Graham, I regard it as most important."
"I do not see the importance myself," said Graham. "Our only purpose is to defend Forbes Regan. If that is successfully accomplished we are far better out of the other case altogether."
"But we cannot be out of the other case; we are interested in the fate of Clifford Maxwell."
"Indirectly, yes but I have no concern with Miss Mabel Neville. I have never seen the lady to my knowledge, and I have no idea how she can have any influence on our affairs."
"I tell you I care more about Mabel Neville than—"
He paused suddenly; for the second time within a few hours he had said more than he intended.
Graham scrutinised his face closely, from the other side of the table, and leaning one arm on the blotting-pad, he waved the other towards Brand in a warning gesture.
"So that is the real secret," he said:
"I might have guessed it; in fact, I should have looked for the woman if any other man had been concerned. Let me advise you, Mr. Brand, to get out of this entanglement as quickly as possible, or at all events to draw a very sharp and clear line between business and romance. You know that your own success hitherto has been due to the main fact that you have never allowed sentiment to sway you."
"Oh, I can keep a cool head yet; never fear, Graham."
"No man can keep a cool head after he has lost it for the sake of a woman."
"A very wise observation as applied to other men."
"As applied to you; my experience of life is that there is no more hopeless fool than a strong man in his folly."
"Impertinence is not argument, Mr. Graham."
"Oh, we may as well be perfectly plain with each other. I do not profess to have fine manners; I am a business man, and I call a spade a spade. There is no room in our business for poetic illusions."
"And there will be no room in it for me if you fail to do as I wish. Try to get on without me if you can."
Graham leant back in his chair and crossed his hands in front of him. For a long time he was silent, as though weighing up things in his mind.
Brand left him to his own thoughts, and taking Mrs. Wynter- Smith's letters out of his pocket, examined them carefully.
"Well," he said at length, "have you made up your mind? Do you swim with me or sink alone?"
"Nothing will turn you?" asked Graham.
"Nothing. You do as I wish or—"
He was holding the letters in his hand, and he let the bundle collapse like a pack of cards on the table.
"Very well, but I warn you, Edmond Brand, that your infatuation for this woman will be your ruin."
"Well, prophets have been wrong before. And now to business."
Graham pushed a bundle of papers over to Brand. He examined them one after another and made pencil notes in the margin which he handed back to Graham for inspection.
The two men sat for some time together working silently till the bundle of documents was disposed of.
"And now I think that will do for the night," said Brand. "Remember my instructions must be carried out to the letter and at the same instant."
"I wish I could have the same confidence in doing so as I have had in the past," said Graham. "I have never resented your policy of giving orders without reasons because I have hitherto known that you had good reasons, but now—"
"Oh, don't begin moralising again, Graham," said Brand, picking up his hat and brushing it with his coat sleeve.
He put it on and looked at himself in a mirror over the mantelpiece. Graham began sliding the papers into a drawer, when both men were startled by a loud and peremptory knock at the front door.
BRAND motioned to Graham to open the door, and waited in the board-room.
He heard his own name mentioned, and going out into the passage suggested that the visitor might come in.
"The office is closed, and this is the only room lighted up at the moment," he said. "I understand you wish to speak to me?"
A police inspector and a clerkly officer, both in plain clothes, entered the room.
"Mr. Forbes Regan," said the inspector, "was connected with this company. We have called to ask for certain information in connection with him."
"Any information we can give you is entirely at your disposal," said Mr. Brand. "Would you kindly take a seat? I should inform you perhaps that our association with Mr Regan was of a purely business character. Mr. Graham, the acting secretary here, knows more of the internal affairs of the company than I do; I am merely its chairman."
"Had Mr. Forbes Regan a private key to the offices which would enable him to obtain admission at any time?"
"Yes, he had such a key," said Graham.
"And who else had keys?"
"I have one. Mr. Brand has one, and the late Mr. Howard Bedford had one."
"And when the office is closed who else can get in?"
"The cleaners, of course, who are permitted in the outer office, but not in the private room."
"And Mr. Forbes Regan made very frequent use of his right to come here at night?"
"He and Bedford were often here, I believe," said Graham, "but Mr. Forbes Regan's movements outside business hours have never interested me."
"I should like to see the room he usually occupied," said the inspector.
"Unless this room should be otherwise occupied he would use it. All members of the board make a practice of using this room, unless of course, any one member already in possession happens to have private callers."
"Will you tell me where those telephones lead?"
"One is the general telephone switched on when necessary from the outer office; another is an internal connection for the different rooms in the office."
"And this," said the detective, pointing to the third.
"That," said Mr. Brand, "connects up directly with my house at Bewley. I find it most convenient to send my London messages direct here and so save delay on the trunk."
"So that ordinarily, it would not be necessary to use the general telephone to speak from here to Bewley?"
"Unless as has happened on one or two rare occasions, the private line should be out of order."
"But I suppose it never does get out of order?"
"It was defective just for a day or two in the middle of September."
"Then it works satisfactorily as a rule. And now, gentlemen, without wasting anymore of your time, I wish to inform you that I have instructions to examine these premises and also any books and documents I may find here for certain purposes connected with investigations which we are making. I came after office hours in the hope that I might find somebody in authority here, as I wished to save you the inconvenience of executing my warrant while your staff were present."
"Then you have a warrant, I presume, for what you are doing," said Mr. Brand. "That is all right, I don't want to see it; we have nothing to conceal so far as Mr. Graham and myself are concerned. Look where you please, and read what documents you please. Will you begin at the outer office, or with this room?"
The inspector and the police clerk went through the books which Graham produced. He also showed them copy-letter books, letter files, and gave them at Mr. Brand's instructions every facility for their investigation.
The books and documents showed the ordinary business dealings of a firm engaged in the purchase and sale of land and of the erection of buildings and other similar undertakings.
"We also deal a little in stocks and shares in so far as they may have an effect upon our business," observed Brand. "Mr. Graham will show you the books and papers relating to that branch of the work."
These again were in perfect order. The ordinary phraseology of the city was employed.
"Now, is there anything else we can do for you?"' asked Brand. "I shall be slaying in town to-night, by the by, at my flat, since I have missed the last train for Bewley, and it is hardly worth while bringing a motor up."
"Perhaps you can tell me, sir," said the officer, "something about your neighbour, Mr Broadwood."
"Yes, I know him; not well, but sufficient to sell him a piece of land at the end of my park on which he built a garage for a motor."
"Does he use the motor often?"
"I really cannot say for certain, but I do not think he does. He has a residence, as you know perhaps, near me; in fact, he is a tenant of mine; but he is very much away, and a person of retiring habits when at home."
"He is away just now, I believe."
"Very probably, I do not remember meeting him at all anywhere in the countryside just lately."
"And do you not know his address?"
"No, I have not the faintest idea where he spends his time, or how he spends it. I presume the last quarter's rent was paid," added Brand, turning to Graham.
"I think that is so, Mr Brand, but I will see," said Graham, going into the outer Office and returning with a book marked "Bewley Estate."
"My first introduction to this company," observed Brand casually to the inspector, "was when it took over the management of my estates, and shortly after that I became its chairman."
"And can you tell me if Mr. Forbes Regan had any authority from Mr. Broadwood to use his motor car in his absence?"
"Possibly, but I cannot say; perhaps we had not made it sufficiently clear that Mr. Forbes Regan's connection with his company was so severely a business matter that, as Mr. Graham has said, he knew little of his movements; so far as I am concerned I had but a very slight acquaintance with him. He may have met Mr. Broadwood on some business matter connected with the estate, the management of which I leave entirely to the administrative heads of this company, and it would seem natural that they should come to some friendly arrangement concerning the use of the motor in view of the fact that Mr. Broadwood uses it so little himself. But may I enquire why you ask?"
"Mr. Forbes Regan was arrested when he was about to drive away in a motor car which is registered in the name of Mr. Broadwood, of Hertfordshire. Mr. Broadwood has been notified at his address that the car will be delivered to him on his applying for it at the garage, but no reply has been received."
When the police had gone Brand and Graham resumed their seats on either side of the oak table. There was an alert confidence in Mr. Brand's demeanour, but Graham stroked his long beard nervously.
"An unpleasant experience," he remarked.
"Unpleasant! It was distinctly exhilarating. After your moral lessons, Graham, it came like a tonic."
"It is not the kind of tonic I like; it is not the kind of thing I expect to endure."
"We must take the thick with the thin, Graham. I have often told you that you would find life worth living if you were more of a sportsman. You are an excellent business man, but you don't enjoy the game."
"Not when policemen invade our affairs and act as though they suspected we were a gang of criminals."
"Well, of course we are not. My dear Graham, don't you know that to the police mind every layman is a potential criminal? I will be bound that they have already a shrewd suspicion that your professional beard covers a breast in which are reposed the secrets of a long life of fraudulent respectability."
"If you are only going to treat everything as a jest, Mr. Brand, it is useless to prolong this interview," said Graham, with an attempt at dignified reproach.
"Yes, get back to your eminently respectable suburb, Mr. Graham, and don't let dreams of your past life disturb your night's repose. Leave me here; I want to think matters over, and the sight of your gloomy countenance is enough to kill all imagination."
Graham stood at the door of the room irresolutely. He was about to say something before going out, but Brand imperiously waved him away.
He walked slowly along the passage. Brand sat in his chair until he heard the street door softly closed, and then picked up the private telephone to Bewley. He gave some instructions to Davis, switched off the phone, and opening a safe from which books had been produced for the inspection of the police, took a strong electric torch from among some other things in a receptacle in a false back which opened with a spring.
The offices had been in darkness for some time, when at last he walked out at the front door.
The next day a paragraph appeared among the society news to the effect that he was entertaining a famous traveller at Bewley Manor over the next two weeks. A small party had been invited to meet the traveller, and they found Mr. Brand an ideal host except for his rigid habit, when in the country, of re-tiring to bed very early. As usual he left his guests to choose their own time for retiring.
They had been there a little over a week, and were falling into the custom of the place, when, as the last of the late sitters were going upstairs, a man made his way softly through the hall and passed along the corridor to a door leading into a shrubbery.
He softly opened the door, and as noiselessly locked it from the outside.
As he stepped into the shrubbery another figure glided between the bushes.
The second man's obvious object was to follow the person who had come out of the house, but he did not know the place so well, and at a sharp turn in the path stepped against a plant which snapped under his feet.
At the sound of the breaking twigs the other turned, and the two men instinctively grappled each other.
While they were struggling the sharp crack of a revolver rang out in the stillness of the night.
HALF-UNDRESSED visitors came running from their rooms, and in a few minutes the household was bustling with activity.
While the guests were eagerly questioning each other and the servants were running aimlessly hither and thither, Mr. Brand appeared, towering above them all, in a long dressing-gown. He ordered the men to search the shrubbery, and was calming the anxiety of his guests with an assurance that the resources of the household were sufficient to meet all possible dangers, when the servants returned carrying a wounded man.
"Take him to a bedroom and send a motor for the doctor." said Mr. Brand. "Meanwhile, is there anybody here who can assist me in rendering first aid?"
The man who had been discovered was comparatively well- dressed, and had none of the appearance of a burglar.
He was in a fainting condition, but the doctor, when he arrived, assured Mr. Brand that he was in no danger.
"Oh, very well; you see that he gets every attention necessary!" said Mr. Brand to the doctor, "and give what orders to the servants you think advisable for that purpose."
Having satisfied himself that nothing more could be done, the host advised his guests to go to bed, and set the example by retiring himself.
THE FOLLOWING morning he rang his bell several times, and, contrary to custom, Davis did not appear. After he had kept his finger on the button for several minutes sending a persistent thrill through the servants' quarters, the head footman ventured to approach his room.
"Mr. Davis, sir?" stammered the man.
"Yes, Davis. Where is he? He has never failed to answer the first ring before."
"He has gone, sir; there is no trace of him anywhere."
Further inquiry proved that the man was correct; the valet had disappeared, without leaving any trace of his whereabouts.
The wounded man had recovered consciousness although he was still very weak. The disappearance of Davis, to which another servant made a casual reference, appeared to excite him. He made no comment on it, but a little while afterwards asked when he was going to be handed over to the police.
"Then you admit you were here for an unlawful purpose," said Mr. Brand, who had come into the room to inquire after the patient.
"Yes, governor," said the man; "you had better send for the cops at once and get it over."
"We will see about that in good time," remarked Mr. Brand as he left the room.
The man endeavoured to leap out of bed, but was pushed back by the servant.
"Now, if you play any tricks like that," said Brand in his quiet, firm way, "we shall have to put you under restraint. You will be handed over to the authorities when we think fit."
The man's head fell back on the pillow with a sigh of resignation. When the doctor arrived for his morning call the fellow asked if he could have a word with him alone.
"I don't want to alarm the household, sir," he said, "but I believe you are a magistrate."
"Yes, I am," said the doctor. "What is it you want?"
"I am not a burglar," said the man; "I am a police officer. I don't want anybody in this household to know it, because I came down to watch one of the servants who has disappeared."
"Davis, the valet? Impossible. A most respectable person."
"So everybody believes, and we have no charge against him at present, sir. At the same time he is under observation for certain reasons, and I will be much obliged if you would do me the kindness to send a message for me to London. I wanted to do it through the local police, but that hasn't worked."
"But is there, any reason why you should not tell Mr. Brand frankly?"
"Yes, we do not want to make any charge, and if I have to explain matters to Mr. Brand he may insist on cross-examining some of the other servants, and that would spoil everything. Understood, sir, I only want you to send a message to headquarters, for I am under orders for them."
The doctor took the message at the dictation of the detective, and drove off with it to the local police office.
WHILE THESE events had been proceeding at Bewley, Davis, through the darkness of the night, made his way out of the grounds. Striking the main road, he walked swiftly on towards a junction where one of the early morning trains stopped, and was in London long before the message from Sharp's understudy reached the police.
He went straight to the docks and boarded a comparatively small but swift steamer. The skipper, was evidently awaiting him, and after a very short interview in the cabin the vessel was under weigh, with Davis on board. They steered direct for the group of islands which Mr. Brand's yacht had visited with its party, and soon struck the route taken by the warship on which Hardy, Shepherd, and Sharp had sailed from Portsmouth.
That party had already arrived. Their plans had been so well arranged that they were at the island before any knowledge of their departure from England had leaked out.
Hardy had a long interview with the Acting Governor, and experienced little difficulty in receiving full authority to act as he found necessary.
The ship drew off to another island some distance away, used as a mere pleasure resort, and here they steered very carefully at Mr. Shepherd's direction into waters used only by small boats.
Shepherd, during the voyage, had been busily engaged drawing plans from memory. Occasionally as he sat in the quarters allotted to him, he leant back in his chair day-dreaming and recalling reminiscences which gave him the clue to a last connecting link. When the ship came to anchor in the shallows he triumphantly produced the finished chart.
He was now the keen engineer; it was difficult to recognise in him the London recluse.
"Your divers will go down here," he said, placing his finger at a point on the plan; "they will find the cable if it is still there, and the work was so well done that I am prepared to guarantee no ordinary effects of time and tide have disturbed it."
The diving operations revealed the fact that matters on the bed of the ocean were exactly as Mr. shepherd described them.
"It is satisfactory in so far as it determines the fact that nobody has been here before us."
"It was impossible," said Shepherd proudly; "there is not a public sea-chart in existence which would guide them, and even though they may have suspected the existence of the cable connection, they could not have found it."
"Unless, as I remarked in our previous interview. Mr. Shepherd, they had undertaken long and elaborate operations, with cable ships and soundings, in which case they must have been observed before they were able to complete their work. But with this plan in their possession they might have got to work as speedily and quietly as we have. There is now no doubt as to the reason for their desperate efforts to get hold of your plan. You must have exercised a rigid and severe surveillance over the original operations. Obviously there is no other plan in existence, or it would have been discovered long since."
"Of that," said Shepherd, "I am not quite absolutely certain. There may be another, but obviously that is as yet out of their reach."
"Have you any idea where it is?"
"It recalls the whole history of this tragic affair. I am anxious to help you, Mr. Hardy, but I hesitate still to revive memories that I have long believed dead."
At this moment the navigating officer in command of the ship came down to inform Hardy that the men left on the island were signalling. To the relief of Mr. Shepherd they found new thoughts to occupy them, and returned to the main island under full steam.
A private boat was borrowed, and, at-tended by four bluejackets dressed in ordinary jerseys, Mr. Shepherd was rowed over to the rocky islet where the yachting party had their last adventure.
"You will easily recognise Mr. Grant," said Hardy to Mr. Shepherd before he set out. "I had better not come with you myself, otherwise he will recognise me; he also knows Sharp. The latest information is that, after we weighed anchor, thinking, no doubt, that we had gone, he took a small boat from the harbour and went over to the rock with all his fossil digging implements. No doubt he intends to come back this evening with a new store of quaint stones and insects, but it would be interesting to know exactly how he is spending his time between whiles."
Shepherd left the Jacks with their boat at the landing point on the islet, and wandered about the barren hill. He kept to the sheltered spots cautiously, surveying the ground around him before he crept from point to point, and so worked his way round to the far side of the islet.
Glancing over a huge boulder, he saw a man bending down hacking at some stones which he deposited in a bag slung over his shoulder. The wandering naturalist in this way worked his way towards the opening in the side of the cliff through which Brand had brought Maxwell and Mabel Neville, pausing every now and then to glance around him. Digging with his tools around the spot, he gradually disappeared into the cavern.
Shepherd waited for some time, and then advanced towards the aperture slowly, as though he were a casual visitor taking a stroll over the islet.
When he arrived at the mouth of the cave he knelt down, and putting his ear to the ground after the fashion of the backwoodsmen, heard the sound of foot-steps receding into the heart of the hill.
Acting on his instructions, one of the sailors had kept in his wake at a good distance, and was not within signalling reach.
The sign given him by Shepherd was passed on to the other men, from them to Hardy, and a few moments later an electric picket- boat, was racing to the islet. A couple of men were posted at the sea exit where Maxwell had jumped in to search for Mabel Neville. The rest came round the hill. Led by Hardy and Shepherd, they entered the cavern from this point and stealthily crept forward in the darkness.
The underground pathway curved to-wards the sea exactly as Maxwell had described it, but Hardy was looking for some other turning.
By a nudge from his elbow be passed an order along the small line to halt, and taking Mr. Shepherd's arm, led him a few steps in advance of the others. Cautiously feeling the sides of the cavern, which narrowed at this point, he touched a different surface, a surface that was not natural, leading into an opening cut by handicraft.
It turned sharply off the main passage. Hardy dragged his companion down with him flat on the ground, and before he could suppress it a low cry of astonishment escaped Mr. Shepherd.
THERE was a dip of a few feet in the narrow passage at the bottom of which was a small apartment where a man stood under a subdued light gazing intently over an instrument which the two watchers recognised at once as a mirror galvanometer.
Shepherd's eyes were fixed intently on the man.
"Keep your hand from that light, or I'll shoot you," said Hardy, thrusting forward a revolver.
The man at the meter had lifted his hand at the sound of Shepherd's exclamation but he staggered back at Hardy's warning.
Covering him with the revolver, Hardy rose and descended into the chamber.
"You are fairly cornered," he said, "We have plenty of assistance, you will be caught even if you got past us. In any case if you move a hair's breadth I'll fire. Get hold of him, two of you," he said, turning to the men who had come up at the sound of his voice, "see that he doesn't touch anything."
A Jack stood on either side of him, and Grant looked helplessly round till his eyes lit on Mr Shepherd With a cry of rage he tried to break from his captors.
Hardy put back his revolver and was following the dot of the mirror galvanometer.
"So you are the alleged hermit of the island," said Shepherd "I thought there was something familiar about your movements although I could not get a clear view of your face when you were wandering on the hillside. Your beard might deceive some people but I knew you the moment I saw the light shining on your forehead."
"And this is what has come of that cursed policy of moderation," said Grant. "You have tricked them by your pretended retirement; they have allowed you to wander at large, and I am to pay the penalty."
"Oh you'll have company, never fear," said Hardy looking up from the meter. "You had better make a clean breast of it at once. We know a few of your friends."
"Then you can find them for yourself. You'll get nothing out of me," said the man stubbornly.
"Very well, as you please, though I don't suppose they will show much consideration for you," replied Hardy. "At all events let me congratulate you on this clever piece of work."
He picked up a powerful electric torch and threw its rays around the room It was a very small chamber, but beautifully fitted up with every appliance for dealing with cable messages.
"The end of your specially improvised cable I see comes through here," he said throwing the light onto a piece of broken rock. "It runs down into the sea and taps the official cable as it passes between the two islands. Living on the island as a naturalist, you pay occasional visits to this rock for the purpose of gathering fossils; you dip down into this neat little apartment tap the private messages as they pass over the cable and forward them by code to your friends in London."
Grant laughed contemptuously. He had now recovered his self possession.
"So that is how you interpret my hobby. You assume that I am interested in your ridiculous worldly affairs. What if I have at great personal labour constructed a hole in the hill where I can pursue my scientific pursuits in solitude, and what proof have you that I have made any other use whatever of it?"
"It won't do, Mr Grant. I suppose you have never sent any messages by wireless from a ship which conveniently happened to be passing this way, and there have never been any times when you had taken furtive trips to the mainland there to send off messages which were not urgent but which put your colleagues in London in possession of valuable information concerning the private affairs of international trading companies."
"You will not draw me," said Grant. "I tell you I know nothing and care nothing about your commercial world. Nature and science are my hobbies—"
"You didn't by any chance," said Hardy, still following up his point before the man had more time to prepare his own story, "make use of one Davis who fortunately happened to be on board a private yacht with a wireless installation that visited this island recently. It was quite an accident that Davis, who acts as confidential valet and courier to a wealthy English gentleman, was instructed by his employer to make arrangements for a pleasant yachting cruise, drew up with the skipper of the yacht a course which included a visit to this interesting spot."
An angry word was on the man's lips, but with a supreme effort he restrained himself.
"And I suppose you know nothing of a very ingenious plan concocted by the said Mr Davis? Something gone wrong with your connecting wire at the point where it joins the official cable. The spot where it happened to touch land on the main island is under official observation to prevent people tampering with it but your wire taps it at another point. Still, it was very difficult to set things right, unless you were sure against interference."
Hardy paused and looked at his man but Grant still remained sulky and silent.
"Shall I tell you exactly what happened," said Hardy. "The principal people in the island by chance were on board Mr Brand's yacht one night. The moorings were cut and they drifted out to sea. There was only one subordinate official at the point where the cable was guarded and he was squared. While the authorities were making the best of it at sea journey Mr Forbes Regan, who was your guest, and Davis with perhaps assistance from a boat that had crawled up during the night put things right, and so business could proceed as usual You see, I know all about it."
"Then Davis is an infernal traitor," cried Grant. The next moment he realised what he had said. His ugly face became contorted with rage. "You cursed tricksters," he said.
"You need not reproach yourself," said Hardy, "we should have found it all out. Perhaps, in justice to Mr Davis, I may say he has not given us any information. We will leave you to judge for yourself what other members of your confederacy may have done so. And now we shall take the liberty of asking you to accompany us on board one of his Majesty's ships, which is ready for your accommodation. If you will step outside you can show us how this place is closed up when you are not here. I presume you don't leave it open for any inquisitive tourist to wander through the cave and accidentally light on this spot."
Impelled by his captors, Grant stepped out into the passage. At the entrance they had to walk in single file. By a swift movement he hall turned, and with his shoulder charged the sailor who was behind him. The man staggered, but caught him by the tail of his coat and pulled him in.
At that moment some heavy rocks relied slowly into the open space
"Good man, Barratt," said Hardy, clapping the sailor enthusiastically on the shoulder. "By heavens, you have saved us from a horrible predicament. As for you," he said, turning to Grant, "It would serve you right if I shot you like a dog."
"You told me to close up the entrance," said Grant.
"Yes. I didn't tell you to try that trick of jumping through yourself before the spring worked, and leaving us imprisoned here in a living tomb. Now perhaps you will work the lever and give those rocks the mechanical open sesame. Remember," he added, drawing his revolver, "no nonsense this time or I'll put a bullet through your head."
The man hesitated a moment, as though about to speak.
"You want to make terms, I suppose," said Hardy. "You are wondering whether it is worth while running the risk of dying a lingering death of suffocation or starvation in here with us for the sake of striking a bargain. Take us out of this and tell us all you know and it is possible that the authorities may let you turn King's evidence; that is the best I can do for you. Now, no nonsense, get to work."
He lifted the revolver menacingly, the man groped with his right foot, and the stones rolled back.
This time he was made to stand in the opening itself until all the others had passed out.
"Now close it from the outside," said Hardy. The man obeyed, and Hardy looked at the work with admiration. The stones so fell into position that they presented a rough, unhewn surface, and the most careful inspection possible by artificial light would not have revealed the fact that they formed a doorway. No wonder Maxwell and Brand passed the chamber without noticing it.
"You have to keep them open when you are working," he said, turning to Grant, "for the sake of air? If you had taken the trouble to overcome that difficulty, you might have sealed yourself up and defied discovery."
Grant made no reply, but fell into the procession with both arms held behind his back by the sailor who followed him.
They took him to the ship, where he was placed in a room under the constant supervision of a sentry.
THE FOLLOWING day a despatch boat bringing letters arrived at the island; there was one for Hardy from the inspector of police containing a report of the search at the offices of the Ajax Land Development Company. With a sigh of disappointment, he handed it to Sharp.
"Looks as though we were on the wrong tack there," he said. "Whenever we seem to get a loose end In this tangle it leads to nowhere. However, we have spiked their guns at this end, and there are possibilities yet in Mr. Grant and Mr Davis. That was a smart piece of work of yours, Sharp, when you detected the cut which started the bursting of the moorings. It put us on the right line. I'll take care that is not forgotten."
"It is very good of you, sir," said Sharp. "I shall not feel satisfied, though, until I have done down Mr. Davis. We have not been able to fix anything on him yet."
"Oh, his turn is coming. By the way, have you heard anything about him since you set out?"
"There is a message by wireless that he got away from Bewley after shooting and disabling the man who was watching him, but had no track of him since," replied Sharp.
"In that case we ought to be in London, but I am not satisfied that we have cleared all the ground here yet."
"We could leave an armed party here, air," suggested Sharp.
"And get back to London for the sake of Clifford Maxwell—"
An ejaculation from Sharp caused Hardy to look at the officer sharply.
"Do you believe in Maxwell's innocence yourself, Sharp?" he asked. "Don't answer if you don't think it is a fair question, but answer it truthfully if you do."
Before Sharp could reply there was a loud shouting at the other end of the ship, and hurrying in that direction, they saw Grant struggling in the arms of a sailor.
THE prisoner had been brought up on deck for exercise, and was permitted to parade up and down in the fresh air.
While Hardy and Sharp were talking, a ship sighted a little earlier on was approaching the island. The men were straining their eyes to make her out, as sailors will on the approach of a strange craft, and as she came closer and closer Grant mounted a capstan, presumably to get a better view.
The warning shout which startled Hardy was from one of the men, who had seen him draw a huge red handkerchief from his pocket, with which he was signalling to the ship, when a sailor dragged him down from the capstan. He still waved the handkerchief in the air as he struggled in the arms of his guard.
He was promptly marched back to the guard-room, and a sailor put in with him to see that he did not attempt to signal through the porthole.
Hardy ran up to the conning-tower and seizing the binoculars, examined the approaching ship. Keeping the glasses to his eyes, he shouted a few sharp orders, which were obeyed at the run. The ship had changed her course, and was heading away from the island as fast as steam could carry her.
Hardy weighed anchor and started in pursuit, but as the other ship was in full sail, while his own ship was riding at anchor, he saw she was bound to have a good start, however quickly his stoke-room could get up full steam.
His only hope was that some lucky accident would enable him to catch up on her.
"We have headed her off from going south; she'll have to keep to her north-ward course, and we'll run her to port somewhere," remarked Sharp.
The fugitive ship, however, proved too swift, and when a heavy mist came up she disappeared completely out of sight.
Still Hardy determined to steer straight for home.
"They'll make for London for certain," he said. "It gives them the easiest chance for scattering as soon as they arrive, if they have anybody an board whom they don't want us to see, although I Imagine they were really coming to fetch our good friend Grant. For some reason or other they didn't recognise any danger in us till the artful old fox gave them the signal. Meanwhile we have to take good care that he has no further chance of getting in touch with them."
WHEN they arrived in London Hardy was again checkmated. He had no difficulty in finding the ship. She was berthed in proper form; her papers were in order. The skipper had made no attempt to hide himself; he was easily discovered.
Yes, it was quite true he was making for the island to take in water, but he was warned off by a signal from a ship flying the white ensign of the Navy, and of course that was sufficient for him.
"But we signalled to you to stop," said Hardy.
"I don't think so; at all events, we didn't see it," said the skipper.
"You may think yourself lucky," said Hardy, "that we had no long-range guns on board. We could then have given you a signal that might have made you heave to."
"I don't see what right you would have to do anything of the sort," said the captain "But we need not discuss that; I can answer any questions you wish to ask."
"Then, perhaps you can tell me either who it was you had on board you didn't want me to see, or who it was you were coming to fetch away from the island."
"I have told you we were coming to the island merely to take in water, not that we wanted it very badly, but we could have done with it. As for the people on board, here is the list of the crew, with their ratings."
"Very possibly. Which of these men rated as a stoker or as a cook or some-thing else was really a passenger?"
"I have no use for passengers on my packet," said the skipper. "Every man there did his job, and I saw that he did it well. If you had come a bit earlier you could have seen the crew, but they have all gone their ways now."
"You had a remarkably short voyage this time," said Hardy.
"I did my job, that was enough for me."
The papers showed that the boat had taken a light cargo to a port on the mainland within comparatively easy reach of the island, that she had only stayed there a few hours, and then started back with another light cargo. She must have been unloaded and loaded with remarkable speed, and Hardy knew the talk about putting in at the island for water was bunkum, but he could not carry the matter any further.
He had left his ship out in the Channel, and had signalled another vessel to bring him through territorial waters. He had no intention of landing Mr. Grant just yet. Out at sea he was subject to sea law, and there was no question of publicly charging him.
Sharp and Shepherd had come ashore with Hardy. Sharp remained by the docks; Shepherd and Hardy travelled up to London, and in Mr Shepherd's library they held a council of war.
"The island will be carefully watched now, and anybody who comes to take Mr. Grant's place will be nabbed," said Hardy, "but I fear the warning which he was able to send has not put them on their guard. The trouble is that we have got the mechanic without getting hold of the moneyed men at the head of the scheme. Don't you think you might now lift the veil on the whole history of the cable conspiracy? You recognised the man Grant?"
"He was not named Grant when I saw him, but Gilbert. He was a young engineer in my day who had not a good reputation, and he disappeared under a cloud."
"The cloud being complicity in a plot to steal your plans, I presume. There is one point, Mr. Shepherd, on which I am not yet quite clear. What was the connection of William Maxwell with this affair?"
"The hope that it might not be necessary to mention this has kept me silent. The cable was laid in pursuit of legitimate business. It led to tragedy upon tragedy. The cable ship foundered and went down. The terrible accident ruined the company. The only people who escaped and who possessed a thorough knowledge of the work were William Maxwell and myself. Each of us had a plan. We kept them with a mutual promise to each other that if occasion should arise when the scheme might mature each would bring the other into the scheme."
"A case of mutual good faith."
"Exactly. Then came the greater development of cable enterprise, and main cables were laid which passed in those regions so near that this line, skillfully extended with very little trouble, might connect up and tap the whole system."
"Then my suggestion the other day to you was not very wide of the mark."
"Your information was extraordinarily sound. Of course, this idea suggested itself to others who knew that this line existed, but had not accurate knowledge. Apparently it was not known to the authorities, or they might have openly searched for it."
"It only came to our knowledge recently," said Hardy.
"Precisely, but as I have said, there were people whose ambition was to use it for evil purposes. They got in touch with William Maxwell. At first he was misled by them; I don't think he realised exactly what they intended until he had gone too far. At all events, he was deeply involved the one thing he had not disclosed happily was the plan. When he failed them they hounded him down. All that is known of William Maxwell is that he died abroad. To have sought justice would only mean the revelation of the whole story, and for the sake of his memory, as well as for the sake of his son, I allowed the matter to rest. Apparently you knew something of the affair, Mr Hardy."
"I did not know all that you have now told me, but it was not merely the long arm of coincidence that brought me to England to see Sir Clifford Maxwell. When I found him the central figure in a mystery with which Forbes Regan, a person known to me as an unscrupulous rascal, was indirectly if not directly, concerned I began to think that personal desire to help an old chum and duty were likely to run side by side."
"Sir Clifford knows nothing about his father's history in this affair?" asked Mr. Shepherd sharply.
"I am morally certain he does not, though I have not questioned him on the point. You see, I was in a peculiar position. My investigations were to be made in confidence. I was not even permitted to tell anybody at that time I was in the Intelligence Department. I only knew that Clifford Maxwell's father and you were concerned with cable engineering in the old days. I went to him to find out your whereabouts. A lucky thought."
"I'm afraid my information was negative rather than positive."
"Yes, but my discovering that they required your plans and by discovering also where your untouched cable was, I knew the neighbourhood in which they were operating. That little single line which we have bottled up was a silver mine for them; if they could have connected up the whole thing yours would have been a gold mine."
"But Clifford Maxwell's freedom is still in doubt."
"Yes, and there is little time to lose; I must be off at once."
Hardy first ordered the chauffeur of the taxi to drive to the police station, and then remembered that he would not be going far out of his way if he called to see Nora.
"Forbes Regan can wait a few minutes, at all events," he murmured as he instructed the driver through the tube.
After the first joyous greetings of the two lovers had occupied them for some little while, Mabel Neville came into the room coughing discreetly at the door.
"You have just returned in time to give me some advice. Dick," she said. "I have a peculiar letter here from Mrs. Wynter-Smith, asking me to call on her. For reasons which you can readily understand, I have avoided her of late."
Hardy looked at the letter. It was a vehement appeal for an interview, coupled with a mysterious allusion to the purpose which they both had in view.
"I should go, I think," said Hardy, "and take careful note of all she says. It may be useful."
Leaving Nora and Dick together. Mabel drove to Mrs Wynter- Smith's house. She was evidently expected, and was shown into the drawing-room, where the servant left her.
She glanced round the familiar room, and thought of the hours she had spent there in the days which now seemed so long ago crowded upon her mind. Suddenly her face grew pale, and she rose from the chair with a startled moan.
ON the floor beside an open desk at the side was a letter in the handwriting of Clifford Maxwell. Mabel turned her eyes away from it, but they would wander back.
Why should Clifford be writing to Mrs. Wynter-Smith? In the letters which he was allowed to send her from the prison under official supervision he had made no mention of any correspondence with Mrs. Wynter-Smith.
Two words had distinctly caught her eye at the first glance.
She walked to the other side of the room. She could not bring herself to read another person's letter, yet she knew that there could be no peace for her until she knew the meaning of this mysterious document.
Impatiently she waited for her one-time friend, and when at last the door opened she controlled her agitation with a resolute effort. It was not Mrs. Wynter-Smith, however, who entered the room.
Mr. Edmond Brand softly closed the door behind him and held out his hand to Mabel.
"I came to see Mrs. Wynter-Smith," she said, turning away from him.
"Exactly, and, knowing that, I have taken the liberty to thrust myself upon you once more. It is unfortunate perhaps that I should have to resort to such arts to obtain merely a word with you. Perhaps you will consent to endure my presence until your hostess arrives. You need not speak to me if you would rather remain silent."
He crossed the room and stood waiting beside a chair for Mabel to sit down first.
Consumed with a curiosity she could not repress, which now made her anxious to see Mrs. Wynter-Smith, Mabel took a seat on an ottoman in such a position that her eyes were averted from Brand.
An ejaculation from him made her turn in that direction.
"What careless habits some people have," he said. "Do you notice that you have actually dropped a letter. Pardon me, I cannot help recognising the hand-writing of Sir Clifford Maxwell, and I presume you are the only person using this room to whom he would write. Allow me."
He picked up the letter, and covering it with his hand so that he might not see the words, walked towards her with it.
"It is not my letter," she said, speaking in an offhand tone, although the effort cost her more pain even than she could have thought possible.
"Are you sure? Hadn't you better read it to make certain?"
"I am not in the habit of reading other people's letters," she said haughtily.
"But surely when there is a reasonable probability that the correspondence is your own; at all events, look at the signature. I have not had many letters from Sir Clifford, and I may be mistaken in supposing it is his handwriting, but that is his signature, is it not? You may at least claim the privilege of making yourself certain on that point."
He took his fingers off the end of the letter and held It up to Mabel. The words "with undying love, Clifford," forced themselves upon her eyes before she could look away. Dropping her head and biting her lips till they bled, she made a strenuous attempt to ignore the paper which was held before her.
"I do not wish to see any letter that is not my own," she said as soon as she could trust herself to speak.
"Then as I am a mutual friend, perhaps I may take the liberty of looking at it for you," said Brand. "There, I said it was intended for you. 'With undying love, Clifford.' To whom but you would he write in that way? We can soon make assurance doubly sure; let us see to whom it is addressed. 'Dear —'"
Mabel could feel her heart beating. She still sat with her eyes fixed on the floor. A faint, lingering hope that there might be some mistake made her listen; the pause after the word "dear" seemed an age. The suspense was intolerable.
She glanced at a mirror, and in it saw Mr. Brand reading the letter. He walked up and down the room, still holding it in his hand, then took a seat beside her on the ottoman.
"Under any other circumstances," he said, speaking in his most insinuating tones, "I should be ashamed to confess I had read another person's letter, but there are some occasions when justice and truth demand that the ordinary conventions should be set aside, and I am thankful to know that I have been able to save one whom I dearly love from a scoundrel."
Mabel still struggled to conquer her curiosity, but nevertheless, she waited despairingly for him to proceed.
"This letter," he said, "is dated from Sir Clifford Maxwell's hotel on the night of his arrival in England, that is to say, on the eve of his arrest. It commences formally, 'Dear Mrs. Wynter- Smith,' grows more affectionate as it proceeds, assures her that his sympathy to you during the voyage home has been misunderstood, and concludes with assuring her of his undying love. In other words, finding that you misinterpreted his feelings, he has not the manliness to say so, but was prepared at that time to marry you while loving another woman."
"I don't believe it," said Mabel, jumping to her feet. "I won't believe it; there is some horrid mistake."
"The words of the letter are quite clear. Read them yourself."
"No, no, I won't read it," said Mabel, thrusting her hand away.
"Oh, very well, then I must return the document to its owner," he said, walking to the door. "Ah, here is Mrs. Wynter- Smith."
Mrs. Wynter-Smith entered the room as he opened the door, and stood watching Mabel with a look of interrogatory surprise.
"An accident has happened to your correspondence, Mrs. Wynter- Smith," said Brand. "This letter was lying on the floor; I thought it must be Miss Neville's and took the liberty of handing it to her."
She snatched the letter from Brand and thrust it in her bosom.
"I presume," she said, "my letter has not been read."
"Unfortunately, the fact that it is a letter from Sir Clifford Maxwell renders the situation a little difficult," said Mr. Brand. "If I might venture to make a suggestion, I think it may tend to make matters more satisfactory for all concerned if you explain the real position between yourself and Sir Clifford Max- well. Naturally, you will be loth to listen to any words of mine which might reflect upon his moral courage, but do not let a quixotic regard for other people's feelings prevent you from doing justice."
"I scarcely know what you mean, Mr. Brand," said Mrs. Wynter- Smith.
"I mean, that if, as I have all along suspected, there is some mistake and Clifford Maxwell is really in love with you, it is your duty to Miss Neville to say so. If, as we hope, Sir Clifford should escape from the horrible charge which is now hanging over him and should marry Miss Neville, you may find consolation in solitude, but you thereby condemn her to the lifelong misery of a loveless marriage. Come, Mrs. Wynter-Smith, put aside all other considerations and do that which is manifestly right."
She crossed her hand over the letter and stood with downcast head.
"It is difficult for you to say, I know," said Brand, "but one word from you can end this embarrassing scene. Is it a fact that Sir Clifford Maxwell has confessed his love for you?"
She nodded her head without speaking. "And that you have a letter there admitting this, notwithstanding that he felt himself bound in honour to marry Mabel Neville?"
She took the letter in her hands, and crumpling it between her fingers, burst into tears.
"Oh, I cannot say it, I cannot; poor Mabel," she said.
The next moment she rushed from the room leaving Brand alone with Mabel.
Neither of them spoke for some time, and then Mabel moved towards the door.
"You are not going like that," said Brand, standing in front of her. "I am at least entitled to be told that I have done right. You see now the kind of man on whom you are wasting your affections. Good God! what strange and hideous force is it that induces you to spurn a love like mine for such a creature?"
"Will you let me pass?" said Mabel.
"Not until I have spoken," he said. "Mabel, you are going to commit another horrible mistake: you are going to allow a false pride to prevent you from seeming to surrender to one man because of the perfidy of another. Although you know that Clifford Maxwell does not love you: although you know that you are my one thought and hope in life, you believe it to be a duty to your own dignity that you should refuse my love; but such hollow mockeries as pride and dignity have no right to existence where love is concerned. Forget the past; forget everything. Live only for the future."
He caught her in his arms and passionately pressed her to him.
She struggled and beat his face with her hands, but still he clung to her.
"I'll take you away from the environment of bitter memories," he said. "We will go together to other scenes where you will learn the true meaning of the love that is in your heart, though you don't admit it now. I'll give up everything; abandon pursuits which, hitherto, have chained me to this island. I shall live only to make life beautiful for you."
Once more Mabel felt the old fear of this man stealing over her. Breathless, in his fierce embrace, her strength of will and body failed her. The room swam before her eyes. His burning words sounded a long way off; her head fell upon his shoulder, and her form rested unresisting and lifeless in his arms.
Gently he laid her on the couch and, sprinkling a few drops from a small phial which he drew from his pocket on to his handkerchief, laid it over her face.
Softly opening the door he passed out into a small morning room, opposite where Mrs. Wynter-Smith was sitting with her face hurled in her hands. He touched her lightly on the shoulder.
"Miss Neville is in a faint," he said, "she will not recover for some hours; before that time it will be dark and I shall have a motor at the door. Take care that no prying servants are allowed near her."
"Edmond Brand," said Mrs. Wynter-Smith, "you are playing a dangerous game. Tell me, before I assist you, what are you going to do with this girl?"
"I am going to take her where she will not be In your way."
"But Clifford Maxwell, what of him? And what of Forbes Regan?"
"For my part," said Brand, "they may as well hang the one as the other. The police want to hang Regan, if they can; they are weaving a net around him, although he refuses to give them any account of his movements and is at present detained, awaiting the arrival of evidence from Australia as to the charge upon which they have arrested him. If he swings, you can have your baronet, if you can catch him. I have done my best for you, but whatever happens, remember this, I Intend to have Mabel Neville. She comes with me to-night, and if you thwart me I'll kill you. You understand, I'll kill you."
He spoke these last words in a voice of cold passion that terrified the cringing woman.
SHORTLY after Mabel left them, Hardy had to tear himself away from Nora once more He called on the police inspector, and on the private enquiry agent, who, as an ex police officer, was working to a large extent in sympathy with his old colleagues.
"We have information," said the agent, "that a trunk call to Bewley was booked from the Ajax Land Development Company on the night of Howard Bedford's disappearance. The time shows that it might have been after Bedford left Sir Clifford Maxwell; it seems that the direct telephone was out of order at that date."
"Which proves that somebody must have been in the house when Bedford returned, or that Bedford himself rang up. Which of these two theories do you support?"
"It is not likely Bedford would ring up Bewley; I understand that he was not in any way allowed to come in direct association with Mr Brand's private life."
"By the way, you have kept in mind that Brand was in town that night. You remember be was at Mrs Wynter-Smith's reception where be arranged his shooting party so that whoever rang up would not be communicating with him."
"And whoever rang up would probably know he was away; a favourable opportunity to speak to Davis."
"Davis, yes that man is the pivot of the whole machine. His anxiety to get Forbes Regan out of the way proves that the two men were in close collusion. It is a thousand pities we did not nab him. Hello, here is Sharp! I wonder what he has got to say?"
"I have found him, sir," said Sharp, bursting into the room. "He did himself by waiting for the skipper to hear his account of the voyage I followed the skipper and I know exactly now where to put my hand on Davis."
"Have you arrested him?"
"No. He is under close observation We can still make better use of him that way than under lock and key."
"You have been to the police office I suppose, to look for me, and no doubt they have told you about the trunk telephone call on the night that Howard Bedford disappeared?"
"Yes, it was a telephone message to Bewley, but not to Mr Brand."
"Then it was to Davis."
"No, not to Davis; he was away The butler remembers it well because of the house party next day. Whoever rang up only got as far as 'Is that Bewley Manor?' when he seemed to be interrupted, and the message broke off. The butler thinks, but is not sure, that it was Davis's voice—"
"Then Davis was the man in the house. Davis was the man who killed Howard Bedford We have followed the wrong track after Forbes Regan."
"We are on the right one now and I have come to fetch you, sir, because I thought you would like to be in it. Davis is staying in a place down by the Docks; a message has been sent to him in the name of Graham, who has not been at the office to day, asking him to call there. If there is any connection between them, he'll turn up and will find some of our people waiting for him. The door will be left on the jar and they will not appear till they have been able to watch his movements. Arrangements have been made for doing that through the floor of the rooms overhead."
"And we shall be there?"
"No sir, not there, but in the house next door. I have got the keys of that, and if there is any way through, we shall catch him at both points. We shall have a cordon around to see that he does not get out at the back."
Eager for the chase, Hardy went with Sharp.
"You had better find out if Miss Neville has returned from Mrs Wynter-Smith's," he said to the private detective, "and if she has not, follow her there She may have some information to give."
THE OFFICES had all been closed, the cleaners had gone. Darkness had fallen upon the square when Hardy and Sharp, accompanied by some other plain clothes officers, took up their position in Clifford Maxwell's house.
Hardy had posted himself in the living-room occupied by Clifford Through the open window he heard a man walk up the steps and enter the house next door. After that there was silence.
The darkness was oppressive, but It was agreed that no lights were to be shown in Maxwell's house. Hardy could not sit still, waiting, waiting, for news of what was happening next door He walked into the passage and tramped up and down as though on the deck of a ship.
Strolling into the room, he heard an-other person go into the house next door, and again there was a dead silence. He resumed his tramp up and down the passage. He had covered his boots with silent galoshes and there was not even the sound of his own footfall to relieve the monotony.
A muffled noise like the discharge of firearms heard through a thick wall broke upon his ear He wanned to rush next door but remembered the injunction that he was to remain at this post, whatever happened. He was straining his ears at the open door of the room, in the hope of catching some sound from the street through the window, when he felt a man's shoulder grazing his arm. The next moment he was collared round the neck, a hand was pressed on his mouth and his head forced back His hand flew up to the fingers that held his throat, and, before his assailant was ready for the simple wrestlers trick Hardy had got the little finger and cricked it back with a sharp jerk that dislocated the small bone.
The grip was broken, but the man made a keen fight for it, and Hardy had to throw him twice before he finally pinned him down By this time the other men had arrived and a concentrated glow from their lamps lit up the face of the prisoner.
Hardy sprang to his feet with an exclamation of astonishment. It was not Davis, the valet, but Mr Edmond Brand who lay there surrounded by the officers.
"May I get up?" asked Brand, with a sickly smile. "I congratulate you, Mr Hardy. I have never been beaten in a single- handed wrestling contest before. Perhaps you will allow me to adjust my toilet."
He was lifted to his feet and the little crowd entered Maxwell's room. The other men had turned their lamps off him to light the way, when Sharp who was following behind, clutched his wrist. A pocket-book fell on the floor and Sharp picked it up.
"Get hold of this man," he said, "see that he doesn't dispose of anything."
Just then, there was a knock at the outer door and one of the men from the next house came to ask if they had anything to report.
"Yes, have you?" said Sharp
"Rather. We have bagged our man."
"Then we had better bring ours in where there is more light," suggested Sharp.
They all filed into the board room where Davis, the valet, was standing between two plain clothes men, with hand cuffs on his wrists.
"I apologise, sir," he said, in his old deferential manner, looking at Mr Brand; "I have no explanation to offer."
"No, but I have," said Sharp, who was examining the contents of the pocketbook he had snatched from Mr Brand. "Perhaps," he added, turning to Hardy, "you can make more of this than I can?"
He spread out a long scroll on very thin but very strong paper, which he drew from a concealed pocket in the book which he had torn open Words were written, very neat and small, opposite other words. Sharp opened a drawer in the table and drew out some ordinary cablegrams and documents, one of which had arrived that day. They were in usual business phraseology.
"This one, perhaps." he said, "has not been decided yet, and I'm afraid we disturbed Mr Brand when he brought in the key to do the work."
At this point, there was a hurrying of footsteps along the passage, and the private inquiry agent came into the room.
"Well, what news from Mrs Wynter-Smith?" said Hardy in a whisper.
"She has owned up," said the man, "when I found that Miss Neville had not returned, I forced my way into the house, found the young lady there, apparently drugged, and told Mrs Wynter- Smith I should give her in custody. She went into hysterics, and when she came around, I got the story out of her. Mr Brand was going back to fetch the girl. They had sent her off in a faint over a letter which was forged. Miss Neville is now safe with Miss Temperley."
The words were spoken in a hurried undertone but Brand heard them.
"So that ends one stirring chapter in the book of life," he said. "Mabel Neville lost—all lost. What matters now?"
"What matters," said Hardy, "is that you will have to account for your part in a conspiracy on a gigantic scale of fraud, and of criminal tampering with cables. This code shows clearly how it has caught your man on the island; we shall catch the others before long."
"You won't catch old Graham; he has taken warning in time and cleared off. I should have cleared as well, but I had no desire to go till I had so arranged matters that I could take Mabel Neville with me."
"Then you admit your part in the swindle?"
"Mr Hardy, I think you will give me credit for one thing, I have some of the instincts of a sports-man. I would have fought you to the end so long as there was a chance of beating you. I am not going to whimper now that I have lost the game."
"In other words you admit the charge." said the inspector of police.
"Oh put it in whatever legal phraseology you like. I suppose you are all wondering why a man of good family with an assured position in society, has associated himself with crime for the sake of money. The answer may be found if you ask yourselves why it was that in the good old days the heads of county families on the western coast were connected with pirates and smugglers. There are some temperaments that cannot stand the humdrum of English life. How I came into this thing first, how information was brought to me of the hidden secret which we have tried to force out of Shepherd, I need not relate in detail. Sufficient to say, that the possibility of hoodwinking the whole British public appealed to my sense of the artistic. I lived in good style, I entertained the best people, I made money, more than I could spend, and I did it all with a smile at the simplicity of this world of fools."
"Aided by your fellow-conspirators," suggested Hardy
"Thank you, I had almost forgotten to give them credit for their share but I think they will agree that there was only one finger on the pulse of the whole machine. Each man had his watertight compartment. I alone held the power to weave one piece of work into the other. This office, carried on as an ordinary business concern, conducted the affairs in books and documents which anybody could see, the true language of which I alone completely understood. Forbes Regan once tried to force the key from me, and I am grateful to you, Mr. Hardy, for what you did on that occasion."
"Then you were the man on the motor car?"
"Yes, I was the man on the motor car, the man on the steam launch, the man who trussed up and tied Clifford Maxwell in his own room, the man whom your understudy, the faithful Sharp, tried conclusions with on the deck of my yacht. I shielded Forbes Regan because in spite of his ingratitude I did not want him to do injury to the others. And now, is there anything else you would like to know?'
"There is just one mystery," said Hardy, who was intensely interested. "When the launch set out from your yacht, you were in your cabin?"
Brand laughed softly.
"Yes, I understand that Mr Sharp here objected to a manservant who talked like his master. It never struck you that it might be the manservant and not the master who was talking in the cabin. Oh, it has been great sport to do everything in the open and watch the efforts of others to work in secret. As for Davis, I do not know why you are making a prisoner of him, he has merely carried out harmless instructions from me, and possibly did not know the meaning of the various things he did."
"It is very kind of you to try and save him," said the inspector. "As he told you when you came in, by your simple code, he has offered no explanation. The cable business is not my job and I won't discuss that with you, but you will have a difficulty in clearing him of the other charge."
"What charge?"
"The murder of Howard Bedford. Perhaps I am not strictly in order in telling you that we have discovered a witness who saw a man answering his description leaving this house that night."
"Oh so you have discovered him, have you?" said Brand. "Well, what does it matter now, only you have once again caught the wrong man. I killed Howard Bedford."
"You!" shouted everybody in chorus.
"Yes. It is the one and only time I have either shed blood or allowed any of my people to do so. I might have let Clifford Maxwell drown in the cave into which Mr Hardy had gone on an innocent exploring mission with Miss Neville, because I did not want you to wander there by any chance and I thought I had put you off the scent by openly taking you to the islet."
"But Howard Bedford?" said Hardy.
"Howard Bedford was a dissolute ruffian; he was better off the earth. I was here when he came back after his drunken brawl with Clifford Maxwell. I told him to go up to his room and make himself decent He came down to his room while I was at the telephone, and I discovered that he had turned traitor, then I killed him. If you care to examine a private room concealed in the supposed cul-de-sac at the end of the corridor, you will find there some evidence, perhaps, which I have not been able to remove. But I am prepared to sign my confession, or you may take it from me at once that I am guilty."
"But the body?"
"It rested in that room and the blood stains are still there. I carried it through to Clifford Maxwell's house and thus deluded you all The concealed door, leading from that chamber through which I passed while these men were arresting Davis, whose retreat I thought I had covered with a revolver shot, is simplicity itself, and that is why you all missed it. I searched that house when ever I had the opportunity, for the plan which I believed William Maxwell had concealed there. I tried to buy the house, and when I heard there was a trust upon Clifford Maxwell not to sell, I was certain of it. But why go into all these uninteresting details? The story is ended."
Two men sprang forward, but he was too quick for them. A couple of pellets, brought out of his waistcoat pocket, were slipped into his mouth under cover of his handkerchief, and after a very brief struggle Edmond Brand had played out his grim joke with life.
THE LAW dealt with Forbes Regan, Davis, and Grant. The plan in Maxwell's house was ultimately discovered, walled up, and destroyed. Thus disappeared every trace of the Trogon mystery.
As for Mrs Wynter-Smith, there was no direct evidence against her. Nobody ever knew the true meaning of Edmond Brand's influence over her. That his masterful personality had dominated her everybody knew.
She had one last interview with Mabel before she disappeared from London society. Mabel could not refuse her this.
"I was that man's slave," she said, "I had but a vague idea of the real part I played in his schemes, but I played it."
"But," said Mabel, "a word from you might have ruined him, and set you free. Why did you not defy him?"
"If Edmond Brand had succeeded in winning you, then you would have understood why I did not."
Mabel thought she understood. At all events, when the bells rang for the double wedding. Mabel and the man who had suffered most were willing to forgive and forget.