CHAPTER XIV
TREASURE TROVE
"I beg your pardon, sir," said Mrs. Benker to the new-comer, "but I dohope I'm not---- Why"--she changed her tone to one of extremesurprise--"if it ain't Mr. Wilson!"
The man did not move a muscle. Ware, who was watching, was disappointed.At least he expected him to start, but the so-called Wilson wasabsolutely calm, and his voice did not falter.
"You are making a mistake; my name is Franklin."
"It isn't his voice," muttered the landlady, still staring; "but hiseyes are the same."
"May I ask you to go?" said Franklin. "You are trespassing."
Mrs. Benker shook her rusty black bonnet.
"You may change your hair from red to black," she declared, "and you mayshave off a ginger beard, but you can't alter your eyes. Mr. Wilson youare, and that I'll swear to in a court of law before a judge and jury.Let them say what they will about me being a liar."
"Of what are you talking, woman?"
"Of you, sir; and I hope I may mention that you were more respectfulwhen you boarded with me."
"Boarded with you!" Franklin stared, and spoke in an astonished tone."Why, I never boarded with you in my life!"
"Oh, Mr. Wilson, how can you? What about my little house in Lambeth, andthe dear boy--my son Alexander--you were so fond of?"
"You are raving."
"I'm as sane as you are," said the landlady, her color rising, "and adeal more respectable, if all were known. Why you should deny me to myface is more than I can make out, Mr. Wilson."
"My name is not Wilson."
"And I say it is, sir."
Both the man and the woman eyed one another firmly. Then Franklinmotioned Mrs. Benker to a seat on a mossy bank.
"We can talk better sitting," said he. "I should like an explanation ofthis. You say that my name is Wilson, and that I boarded with you."
"At Lambeth. I'll take my oath to it."
"Had your boarder red hair and a red beard?"
"Red as a tomato. But you can buy wigs and false beards. Eyes, as I say,you cannot change."
"Had this Wilson eyes like mine?" asked Frankly eagerly.
"There ain't a scrap of difference, Mr. Wilson. Your eyes are the samenow as they were then."
"One moment. Had this man you think me to be two teeth missing in hislower jaw--two front teeth?"
"He had. Not that his teeth were of the best."
Franklin drew down his lip.
"You will see that I have all my teeth."
"H'm!" Mrs. Benker sniffed. "False teeth can be bought."
"I fear you would find these teeth only too genuine," said the manquietly. "But I quite understand your mistake."
"My mistake?" Mrs. Benker shook her head vehemently. "I'm not the one tomake mistakes."
"On this occasion you have done so; but the mistake is pardonable.Mrs.--Mrs.--what is your name?"
"Mrs. Benker, sir. And you know it."
"Excuse me, I do not know it. The man who was your lodger, and whom youaccuse me of being, is my brother."
"Your brother!" echoed the landlady, amazed.
"Yes, and a bad lot he is. Never did a hand's turn in all his life. Idaresay while he was with you he kept the most irregular hours?"
"He did--most irregular."
"Out all night at times, and in all day? And again, out all day and infor the night?"
"You describe him exactly." Mrs. Benker peered into the clean-shavenface in a puzzled manner. "Your hair is black, your voice is changed,and only the eyes remain."
"My brother and I have eyes exactly the same. I guessed your mistakewhen you spoke. I assure you I am not my brother."
"Well, sir," said the woman, beginning to think she had made a mistakeafter all, "I will say your voice is not like his. It was low and soft,while yours, if you'll excuse me mentioning it, is hard, and not at allwhat I'd call a love-voice."
Grim as Franklin was, he could not help laughing at this last remark.
"I quite understand. You only confirm what I say. My brother has abeautiful voice, Mrs. Benker; and much harm he has done with it amongstyour sex."
"He never harmed me," said Mrs. Benker, bridling. "I am a respectablewoman and a widow with one son. But your brother----"
"He's a blackguard," interrupted Franklin; "hand and glove with the veryworst people in London. You may be thankful he did not cut your throator steal your furniture."
"Lord!" cried Mrs. Benker, astounded, "was he that dangerous?"
"He is so dangerous that he ought to be shut up. And if I could layhands on him I'd get the police to shut him up. He's done no end ofmischief. Now I daresay he had a red cross dangling from hiswatch-chain."
"Yes, he had. What does it mean?"
"I can't tell you; but I'd give a good deal to know. He has hinted to methat it is the sign of some criminal fraternity with which he isassociated. I never could learn what the object of the cross is. Healways kept quiet on that subject. But I have not seen him for years,and then only when I was on a flying visit from Italy."
"Have you been to Italy, sir?"
"I live there," said Franklin, "at Florence. I have lived there for overten years, with an occasional visit to London. If you still think that Iam my brother, I can bring witnesses to prove----"
"Lord, sir, I don't want to prove nothing. Now I look at you and hearyour voice I do say as I made a mistake as I humbly beg your pardon for.But you are so like Mr. Wilson----"
"I know, and I forgive you. But why do you wish to find my brother? Hehas been up to some rascality, I suppose?"
"He has, though what it is I know no more than a babe. But they do say,"added Mrs. Benker, sinking her voice, "as the police want him."
"I'm not at all astonished. He has placed himself within the reach ofthe law a hundred times. If the police come to me, I'll tell them what Ihave told you. No one would be more pleased than I to see Walter laid bythe heels."
"Is his name Walter?"
"Yes, Walter Franklin, although he chooses to call himself Wilson. Myname is George. He is a blackguard."
"Oh, sir, your flesh and blood."
"He's no brother of mine," said Franklin, rising, with a snarl. "I hatethe man. He had traded on his resemblance to me to get money and do allmanner of scoundrelly actions. That was why I went to Italy. It seemsthat I did wisely, for if I could not prove that I have been abroadthese ten years, you would swear that I was Walter."
"Oh, no, sir--really." Mrs. Benker rose also.
"Nonsense. You swore that I was Walter when we first met. Take a goodlook at me now, so that you may be sure that I am not he. I don't wantto have his rascalities placed on my shoulders."
Mrs. Benker took a good look and sighed. "You're not him, but you'revery like. May I ask if you are twins, sir?"
"No. Our eyes are the only things that we have in common. We got thosefrom our mother, who was an Italian. I take after my mother, and amblack, as you see me. My brother favored my father, who was as red as anautumn sunset."
"He was indeed red," sighed Mrs. Benker, wrapping her shawl round her;"and now, sir, I hope you'll humbly forgive me for----"
"That's all right, Mrs. Benker. I only explained myself at lengthbecause I am so sick of having my brother's sins imputed on me. I hopehe paid your rent."
"Oh, yes, sir, he did that regularly."
"Indeed," sneered Franklin; "then he is more honest than I gave himcredit for being. Because if he had not paid you I should have done so.You seem to be a decent woman and----"
"A widow!" murmured Mrs. Benker, hoping that he would give her somemoney. But this Mr. Franklin had no intention of doing.
"You can go now," he said, pointing with his stick towards an ornamentalbridge; "that is the best way to the high-road. And, Mrs. Benker, if mybrother should return to you let me know."
"And the police, sir," she faltered.
"I'll tell the police myself," said the man, frowning. "Good day."
Mrs. Benker, rather disappo
inted that she should have received no money,and wishing that she had said Walter Franklin had not paid her rent,crept off, a lugubrious figure, across the bridge. Franklin watched hertill she was out of sight, then took off his hat, exposing a high,baldish head. His face was dark, and he began to mutter to himself.Finally, he spoke articulately.
"Am I never to be rid of that scamp?" he said, shaking his fist at thesky. "I have lived in Italy--in exile, so that I should not be troubledwith his schemes and rascalities. I have buried myself here, with mydaughter and those three who are faithful to me, in order that he maynot find me out. And now I hear of him. That woman. She is a spy of his.I believe she came here from him with a made-up story. Walter will come,and then I'll have to buy him off. I shall be glad to do so. But to beblackmailed by that reptile. No! I'll go back to Florence first." Hereplaced his hat and began to dig his stick in the ground. "I wonder ifMorley would help me. He is a shrewd man. He might advise me how to dealwith this wretched brother of mine. If I could only trust him?" Helooked round. "I wonder where he is? He promised to meet me half an hourago." Here Franklin glanced at his watch. "I'll walk over to The Elmsand ask who this woman, Mrs. Benker, is. He may know."
All this was delivered audibly and at intervals. Giles was notastonished, as he knew from Mrs. Parry that the man was in the habit oftalking aloud to himself. But he was disappointed to receive such aclear proof that Franklin was not the man who had eloped with Anne. Evenif he had been deceiving Mrs. Benker (which was not to be thought of),he would scarcely have spoken in soliloquy as he did if he had not beenthe man he asserted himself to be. Giles, saying nothing to hiscompanion, watched Franklin in silence until he was out of sight, andthen rose to stretch his long legs, Morley, with a groan, followed hisexample. It was he who spoke first.
"I am half dead with the cramp," said he, rubbing his stout leg, "justlike old times when I hid in a cupboard at Mother Meddlers, to hearBlack Bill give himself away over a burglary. Ay, and I nearly sneezedthat time, which would have cost me my life. I have been safe enough inthat summer-house--but the cramp--owch!"
"It seems I have been mistaken," was all Giles could say.
"So have I, so was Mrs. Benker. We are all in the same box. The man isevidently very like his scamp of a brother."
"No doubt, Morley. But he isn't the brother himself."
"More's the pity, for Franklin's sake as well as our own. He seems tohate his brother fairly and would be willing to give him up to thelaw--if he's done anything."
"Well," said Ware, beginning to walk, "this Walter Franklin--to give himhis real name--has committed murder. I am more convinced than ever thathe is the guilty person. But I don't see what he has to do with Anne.Her father is certainly dead--died at Florence. Ha! Morley. Franklincomes from Florence. He may know--he may have heard."
Morley nodded. "You're quite right, Ware. I'll ask him about the matter.Humph!" The ex-detective stopped for a moment. "This involuntaryconfession clears George Franklin."
"Yes. He is innocent enough."
"Well, but he inherited the money," said Morley. "It's queer that hisbrother, according to you, should have killed the girl who kept thefortune from him."
"It is strange. But it might be that Walter Franklin intended to playthe part of his brother and get the money, counting on the resemblancebetween them."
"That's true enough. Yet if George were in Italy and within hail, so tospeak, I don't see how that would have done. Why not come to The Elmswith me and speak to Franklin yourself? He will be waiting for methere."
"No," answered Ware after some thought, "he evidently intends to trustyou, and if I come he may hold his tongue. You draw him out, Morley, andthen you can tell me. Mrs. Benker----"
"I'll say nothing about her. I am not supposed to know that she is avisitor to Rickwell. He'll suspect our game if I chatter about her,Ware. We must be cautious. This is a difficult skein to unravel."
"It is that," assented Giles dolefully, "and we're no further on with itthan we were before."
"Nonsense, man. We have found out Wilson's real name."
"Well, that is something certainly, and his brother may be able to putus on his track. If he asks about Mrs. Benker, say that she is a friendof my housekeeper. You can say you heard it from your wife."
"I'll say no more than is necessary," replied Morley cunningly. "Ilearned in my detective days to keep a shut mouth. Well, I'll be off andsee what I can get out of him."
When Morley departed at his fast little trot--he got over the groundquickly for so small a man--Giles wandered about the Priory park. Hethought that he might meet with the daughter, and see what kind of aperson she was. If weak in the head, as Mrs. Parry declared her to be,she might chatter about her Uncle Walter. Giles wished to find out allhe could about that scamp. He was beginning to feel afraid for Anne, andto wonder in what way she was connected with such a blackguard.
However, he saw nothing and turned his face homeward. Just as he wasleaving the park on the side near the cemetery he saw somethingglittering in the grass. This he picked up, and was so amazed that hecould only stare at it dumb-founded. And his astonishment was little tobe wondered at. He held in his hand a half-sovereign with an amethyst, adiamond, and a pearl set into the gold. It was the very ornament whichhe had given Anne Denham on the night of the children's party at TheElms--the coin of His Most Gracious Majesty King Edward VII.