coulddecipher them. The key to the cipher I had learnt on that festival whenI had discovered Poldo writing upon a pack of cards a message, evidentlyintended for the Cardinal himself at Rome, for I have since establishedthe fact that the outlaw and the ecclesiastic were in frequent butsecret communication prior to the latter's death."
"But this man Dawson must have profited enormously by the revelationmade by Blair," I remarked. "They seem to have been most intimatefriends."
"Of course he profited," Hales replied. "Blair, possessing thisremarkable secret, went in deadly fear of Dicky, the bo'sun, who mightdeclare, as he had already done, that he had stolen it from the dyingman. He was well aware that Dawson was an unscrupulous sailor of thevery worst type, therefore he considered it a very judicious course, Isuppose, to go into partnership with him and assist in the explorationof the secret. But poor Blair must have been in the fellow's hands allthrough although it is plain that the gains Blair made were enormous,while those of Dicky have been equal, although it seems probable thatthe latter has lived in absolute obscurity."
"Dawson feared to come to England," Reggie remarked.
"Yes," answered the old man. "There was a rather ugly incident inLiverpool a few years ago--that's the reason."
"There is no negative evidence regarding the actual gift of the pack ofcards to Blair by this reformed outlaw, is there!" I inquired.
"None whatever. For my own part I believe that Poldo gave them to Blairtogether with instruction to return ashore and find me, because he hadshowed him many little kindnesses during repeated illnesses. Poldo, ongiving up his evil ways, had become religious and used to attendsailors' Bethels and missions when ashore, while Blair was, as you know,a very God-fearing man for a sailor. When I recollect all thecircumstances, I believe it was only natural that Poldo should give thedead Cardinal's secret into the hands of his best friend."
"The spot indicated is near Lucca in Tuscany," I remarked. "You saythat this outlaw, Poldo Pensi, had been there and made an investigation.What did he find?"
"He found what the Cardinal had told him he would find. But he neverexplained to me its nature. All he would tell was that the secret wouldrender its possessor a very wealthy man--which it certainly did inBlair's case."
"The connexion of the Church between the late Cardinal Sannini and FraAntonio, the Monk of Lucca, is strange," I observed. "Is the monk, Iwonder, in possession of the secret? He certainly had some connexionwith the affair, as shown by his constant consultations with the manDawson."
"No doubt," remarked Reggie, turning over the little cards idly. "We'venow got to discover the exact position of both men, and at the same timeprevent this fellow Dawson from obtaining too firm a hold on MabelBlair's fortune."
"Leave that to me," I said confidently. "For the present our line ofaction is quite clear. We must investigate the spot on the bank of theSerchio and discover what is hidden there." Then turning to Hales, Iadded, "In the record it is, I notice, distinctly directed `First findthe old man who lives at the house by the crossways.' What does thatmean? Why is that direction given?"
"Because I suppose that when the record was written upon these cards Iwas the only other person having any knowledge of the Cardinal'ssecret--the only person, too, possessing the key to the cipher."
"But you affected ignorance of all this at first," I said, still viewingthe old fellow with some suspicion.
"Because I was not certain of your _bona-fides_," he laughed quitefrankly. "You took me by surprise, and I was not inclined to show myhand prematurely."
"Then you have really told us all you know?" Reggie said.
"Yes, I know no more," he replied. "As to what is contained at the spotindicated in the record, I am quite ignorant. Remember that Blair haspaid me justly, even more than he stipulated, but as you are well awarehe was a most reserved man concerning his own affairs, and left me inentire ignorance."
"You can give us no further information regarding this one-eyed man whoseems to have been Blair's partner in the extraordinary enterprise?"
"None, except that he's a very undesirable acquaintance. It was Poldowho nicknamed him `The Ceco.'"
"And the monk who calls himself Fra Antonio?"
"I know nothing of him--never heard of any such person."
It was upon the tip of my tongue to inquire whether the old man had ason, and if that son's name was Herbert, recollecting, as I did, thattragic midnight scene in Mayvill Park. Yet, fortunately perhaps, I wasprompted to remain silent, preferring to conceal my knowledge and toawait developments of the extraordinary situation.
Still a fierce, mad jealousy was gnawing at my heart. Mabel, the calm,sweet girl I loved so well, and whose future had been entrusted to me,had, like so many other girls, committed the grievous error of fallingin love with a common man, rough, uncouth, and far beneath her station.Love in a cottage--about which we hear so much--is all very well intheory, just as is the empty-pocket-light-heart fallacy, but in thesemodern days the woman habituated to luxury can never be happy in thefour-roomed house any more than the man who gallantly marries for loveand foregoes his inheritance.
No. Each time I recollected that young ruffian's sneers and threats,his arrogance and his final outburst of murderous passion, which hadbeen so near producing a fatal termination to my well-beloved, my bloodboiled. My anger was aflame. The fellow had escaped, but within myselfI determined that he should not go scot-free.
And yet, when I recollected, it seemed as though Mabel were utterly andirresistibly in that man's power, even though she had attempteddefiance.
We remained with Hales and his wife for another hour learning fewadditional facts except from a word that the old lady let drop. Iascertained that they actually had a son whose name was Herbert, butwhose character was none too good.
"He was in the stables at Belvoir," his mother explained when I madeinquiry of him. "But he left nearly two years ago, and we haven't seenhim since. He writes sometimes from various places and appears to beprospering."
The fellow was, therefore, as I had surmised from his appearance, ahorsekeeper, a groom, or something of that kind.
It was already half-past seven when we arrived back at King's Cross, andafter a hasty chop at a small Italian restaurant opposite the station,we both drove to Grosvenor Square, in order to explain to Mabel oursuccess in the solution of the cipher.
Carter, who admitted us, knew us so well that he conducted us straightupstairs to the great drawing-room, so artistically lit with its shadedelectric lights placed cunningly in all sorts of out-of-the-way corners.Upon the table was a great old punch-bowl, full of splendid Gloire deDijon roses, which the head gardener sent with the fruit from the houseat Mayvill daily. Their arrangement was, I knew, by the hand of thewoman whom for years I had secretly admired and loved. Upon a sidetable was a fine panel photograph of poor Burton Blair in a heavy silverframe, and upon the corner his daughter had placed a tiny bow of crapeto honour the dead man's memory. The great house was full of thosewomanly touches that betrayed the sweet sympathy of her character andthe calm tranquillity of her life.
Presently the door opened, and we both rose to our feet, but instead ofthe bright, sunny-hearted girl with the musical voice and merry, openface, there entered the middle-aged bearded man in gold-rimmed glasses,who was once the bo'sun of the barque _Annie Curtis_ of Liverpool, andafterwards had been the secret partner of Burton Blair.
"Good evening, gentlemen," he exclaimed, bowing with that forced veneerof polish he sometimes assumed. "I am very pleased to welcome you herein my late friend's house. I have, as you will perceive, taken up myquarters here in accordance with the terms of poor Blair's will, and Iam pleased to have this opportunity of again meeting you."
The fellow's cool impudence took us both entirely aback. He seemed soentirely confident that his position was unassailable.
"We called to see Miss Blair," I explained. "We were not aware that youwere about to take up your residence here quite so quickly."
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"Oh, it is best," he assured us. "There are a great many matters inconnexion with Blair's wide interests that require immediate attention,"and as he was speaking, the door again opened and there entered adark-haired woman of about twenty-six, of medium height, rather showilydressed in a black, low-cut gown, but whose countenance was of a rathercommon type, yet, nevertheless, somewhat prepossessing.
"My daughter, Dolly," explained the one-eyed man. "Allow me tointroduce you," and we both gave her rather a cold bow, for it seemedthat they had both made their abode there, and taken over the managementof the house in their own hands.
"I suppose Mrs. Percival still remains?" I inquired after a fewmoments, on recovering from the shock at finding the adventurer and hisdaughter were actually in possession of that splendid mansion which halfLondon admired and the other half envied--the place of which numerousphotographs and descriptions had appeared in the magazines and ladies'journals.
"Yes, Mrs. Percival is still in her own sitting-room. I left her therefive minutes ago. Mabel, it seems, went out at eleven o'clock thismorning and has not returned."
"Not returned," I exclaimed in quick surprise. "Why not?"
"Mrs. Percival seems to be very upset. Fears something has happened toher, I think."
Without another word I ran down the broad staircase with its crystalbalustrade and, tapping at the door of the room, set apart for Mrs.Percival, and announcing my identity, was at once allowed admittance.
The instant the prim elderly widow saw me she sprang to her feet interrible distress, crying--
"Oh, Mr. Greenwood, Mr. Greenwood! What can we do? How can we treatthese terrible people? Poor Mabel left this morning and drove in thebrougham to Euston Station. There she gave Peters this letter,addressed to you, and then dismissed the carriage. What can it possiblymean?"
I took the note she handed me and tremblingly tore it open, to find afew hurriedly scribbled lines in pencil upon a sheet of notepaper, asfollows:--
"Dear Mr. Greenwood,--You will no doubt be greatly surprised to learnthat I have left home for ever. I am well aware that you entertain forme as high a regard and esteem as I do for you, but as my secret mustcome out, I cannot remain to face you of all men. These people willhound me to death, therefore I prefer to live in secret beyond the reachof their taunts and their vengeance than to remain and have the fingerof scorn pointed at me. My father's secret can never become yours,because his enemies are far too wily and ingenious. Every precautionhas been taken to secure it against all your endeavours. Therefore, asyour friend I tell you it is no use grinding the wind. All is hopeless!Exposure means to me a fate worse than death! Believe me that onlydesperation has driven me to this step because my poor father's cowardlyenemies and mine have triumphed. Yet at the same time I ask you toforget entirely that any one ever existed of the name of the ill-fated,unhappy and heartbroken Mabel Blair."
I stood with the open, tear-stained letter in my hand absolutelyspeechless.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
THE MYSTERY OF A NIGHT'S ADVENTURE.
"Exposure means to me a fate worse than death," she wrote. What couldit mean?
Mrs. Percival divined by my face the gravity of the communication, and,rising quickly to her feet, she placed her hand tenderly upon myshoulder, asking--
"What is it, Mr. Greenwood? May I not know?"
For answer I handed her the note. She read it through quickly, thengave vent to a loud cry of dismay, realising that Burton Blair'sdaughter had actually fled. That she held the man Dawson in fear wasplain. She dreaded that her own secret, whatever it was, must now beexposed, and had, it seemed, fled rather than again face me. But why?What could her secret possibly be that she was so ashamed that she wasbent upon hiding herself?
Mrs. Percival summoned the coachman, Crump, who had driven his youngmistress to Euston, and questioned him.
"Miss Mabel ordered the _coupe_ just before eleven, ma'am," the mansaid, saluting. "She took her crocodile dressing-bag with her, but lastnight she sent away a big trunk by Carter Patterson--full of oldclothing, so she told her maid. I drove her to Euston Station where shealighted and went into the booking-hall. She kept me waiting about fiveminutes, when she brought a porter who took her bag, and she then gaveme the letter addressed to Mr. Greenwood to give to you. I drove homethen, ma'am."
"She went to the North, evidently," I remarked when Crump had left andthe door had closed behind him. "It looks as though her flight waspremeditated. She sent away her things last night."
I was thinking of that arrogant young stable worker, Hales, andwondering if his renewed threats had really caused her to keep anothertryst with him. If so, it was exceedingly dangerous.
"We must find her," said Mrs. Percival, resolutely. "Ah!" she sighed,"I really don't know what will happen, for the house is now inpossession of this odious man Dawson and his daughter, and the man is amost uncouth, ill-bred fellow. He addresses the servants with an easyfamiliarity, just as though they were his equals; and just now, heactually complimented one of the housemaids upon her good looks!Terrible, Mr. Greenwood, terrible," exclaimed the widow, greatlyshocked. "Most disgraceful show of ill-breeding! I certainly cannotremain here now Mabel has thought fit to leave, without even consultingme. Lady Rainham called this afternoon, but of course I had to be notat home. What can I tell people in these distressing circumstances?"
I saw how scandalised was the estimable old chaperone, for she wasnothing if not a straightforward widow, whose very life depended uponrigorous etiquette and the traditions of her honourable family. Cordialand affable to her equals, yet she was most frigid and unbending to allinferiors, cultivating a habit of staring at them through her squareeyeglass rimmed with gold, and surveying them as though they weresurprising creatures of a different flesh and blood. It was this latteridiosyncrasy which always annoyed Mabel, who held the very womanly creedthat one should be kind and pleasant to inferiors and cold only toenemies. Nevertheless, under Mrs. Percival's protective wing and activetuition, Mabel herself had gone into the best circle of society whosedoors are ever open to the daughter of the millionaire, and hadestablished a reputation as one of the most charming _debutantes_ of herseason.
How society has altered in these past ten years! Nowadays, the goldenkey is the open sesame of the doors of the bluest blood in England.
The old exclusive circles are no longer, or if there are any, they areobscure and dowdy. Ladies go to music halls and glorified night-clubs.What used to be regarded as the drawback from the dinner at a restaurantis now a principal attraction. A gentlewoman a generation agoreasonably objected that she did not know whom she might sit next. Now,as was the case at the theatre in the pre-Garrick days, the loosecharacter of a portion of the visitors constitutes in itself a lure.The more flagrant the scandal concerning some bedizened "impropriety"the greater the inducement to dine in her company, and, if possible, inher vicinity. Of such is the tone and trend of London society to-day!
For a quarter of an hour, while Reggie was engaged with Dawson _pere etfille_, I took counsel with the widow, endeavouring to form some idea ofwhere Mabel had concealed herself. Mrs. Percival's idea was that shewould reveal her whereabouts ere long, but, knowing her firmness ofcharacter as well as I did, I held a different opinion. Her letter wasone of a woman who had made a resolve and meant at all hazards to keepit. She feared to meet me, and for that reason would, no doubt, concealher identity. She had a separate account at Coutts' in her own name,therefore she would not be compelled to reveal her whereabouts throughwant of funds.
Ford, the dead man's secretary, a tall, clean-shaven, athletic man ofthirty, put his head into the room, but, finding us talking, at oncewithdrew. Mrs. Percival had already questioned him, she said, but hewas entirely unaware of Mabel's destination.
The man Dawson had now usurped Ford's position in the household, and thelatter, full of resentment, was on the constant watch and as full ofsuspicion as we all were.
Re
ggie rejoined me presently, saying, "That fellow is absolutely abounder of the very first water. Actually invited me to have awhisky-and-soda--in Blair's house, too! He's treating Mabel's flight asa huge joke, saying that she'll be back quickly enough, and adding thatshe can't afford to be away long, and that he'll bring her back the veryinstant he desires her presence here. In fact, the fellow talks just asthough she were as wax in his hands, and as if he can do anything hepleases with her."
"He can ruin her financially, that's certain," I remarked, sighing."But read this, old chap," and I gave him her strangely-worded letter.
"Good Heavens!" he gasped, when he glanced at it, "she's in deadlyterror of those people, that's very certain. It's to avoid them and youthat she's escaped--to Liverpool and America, perhaps. Remember she'sbeen a great traveller all her youth and therefore knows her way about."
"We must find her, Reggie," I declared decisively.
"But the worst of it is that she's bent on avoiding you," he said. "Shehas some distinct reason for this, it seems."
"A reason known only to herself," I remarked pensively. "It is surely a_contretemps_ that now, just at the moment when we have gained the truthof the Cardinal's secret which brought Blair his fortune, Mabel shouldvoluntarily disappear in this manner. Recollect all we have