just because a doctordiscovered that he had a weak heart. It's placing a premium on crime,"he added, his fist clenched savagely. "I'll relate the whole thing tomy friend Mills, the Member for West Derbyshire, and get him to ask aquestion in the House. We'll see what this new Home Secretary says toit! It'll be a nasty pill for him, I'll wager."
"Oh, he'll have some typewritten official excuse ready, never fear,"laughed Leighton. "If they won't help us, we must make inquiries forourselves."
The solicitor parted from us in Trafalgar Square, arranging to meet usat Grosvenor Square after the funeral, when the will would be formallyread before the dead man's daughter and her companion, Mrs. Percival.
"And then," he added, "we shall have to take some active steps todiscover this mysterious person who is in future to control herfortune."
"I'll undertake the inquiries," I said. "Fortunately I speak Italian,therefore, before we give him notice of Blair's death. I'll go out toFlorence and ascertain who and what he is." Truth to tell, I had asuspicion that the letter which I had secured from the dead man'sblotting book, and which I had kept secretly to myself, had been writtenby this unknown individual--Paolo Melandrini. Although it bore neitheraddress nor signature, and was in a heavy and rather uneducated hand, itwas evidently the letter of a Tuscan, for I detected in it certainphonetic spelling which was purely Florentine. Translated, the strangecommunication read as follows:--
"Your letter reached me only this morning. The Ceco (blind man) is inParis, on his way to London. The girl is with him, and they evidentlyknow something. So be very careful. He and his ingenious friends willprobably try and trick you.
"I am still at my post, but the water has risen three metres on accountof the heavy rains. Nevertheless, farming has been good, so I shallexpect to meet you at vespers in San Frediano on the evening of the 6thof next month. I have something most important to tell you. Recollectthat the Ceco means mischief, and act accordingly. _Addio_."
Times without number I carefully translated the curious missive word forword. It seemed full of hidden meaning.
What seemed most probable was that the person known as the "blind man,"who was Blair's enemy, had actually been successful in gainingpossession of that precious little sachet of chamois leather that wasnow mine by right, together with the mysterious secret it contained.
CHAPTER SIX.
CONCERNS THREE CAPITAL A'S.
The function in the library at Grosvenor Square on the followingafternoon was, as may be supposed, a very sad and painful one.
Mabel Blair, dressed in deep mourning, her eyes betraying traces oftears, sat still and silent while the solicitor drily read over thewill, clause by clause.
She made no comment, even when he repeated the dead man's appointment ofthe unknown Italian to be manager of his daughter's fortune.
"But who is he, pray?" demanded Mrs. Percival, in her quiet, refinedvoice. "I have never heard Mr. Blair speak of any such person."
"Nor have I," admitted Leighton, pausing a moment to readjust hisglasses, and then continuing to read the document through to the end.
We were all thoroughly glad when the formality was over. Afterwards,Mabel whispered to me that she wished to see me alone in themorning-room, and when we had entered together and I had closed thedoor, she said--
"Last night I searched the small safe in my father's bedroom where hesometimes kept his private papers and things. There were a quantity ofmy poor mother's letters, written to him years ago when he was at sea,but nothing else, only this." And she drew from her pocket a small,soiled and frayed playing-card, an ace of hearts, upon which certaincabalistic capitals had been written in three columns. In order thatyou shall properly understand the arrangement and position of theletters, it will perhaps be as well if I here reproduce it:--
"That's curious!" I remarked, turning it over anxiously in my hand."Have you tried to discover what meaning the words convey?"
"Yes; but it's some cipher or other, I think. You will notice that thetwo upper columns commence with `A,' and the lower column ends with thesame letter. The card is the ace of hearts, and in all those points Idetect some hidden meaning."
"No doubt," I said. "But was there an appearance of it being carefullypreserved?"
"Yes, it was sealed in a linen-lined envelope to itself, and marked inmy father's handwriting, `Burton Blair--private.' I wonder what itmeans?"
"Ah! I wonder," I exclaimed, pondering deeply, and still gazing uponthe three columns of fourteen letters. I tried to decipher it by theusual known methods of the easy cipher, but could make nothingintelligible of it. There were some hidden words there, and beingutterly unintelligible, they caused me considerable thought. Why Blairhad preserved that card in such secrecy was, to say the least, amystery. In it I suspected there was some hidden clue to his secret,but of its nature I could not even guess.
When we had discussed it for a long time, arriving at no satisfactoryconclusion, I suggested that she should go abroad with Mrs. Percival fora few weeks so as to change her surroundings and endeavour to forget hersudden bereavement, but she only shook her head, murmuring--
"No, I prefer to remain here. The loss of my poor father would be thesame to me abroad as it is here."
"But you must endeavour to forget," I urged with deep sympathy. "We aredoing our utmost to solve the mystery surrounding your father's actions,and the means by which he came by his death. To-night, indeed, I amleaving for Italy in order to make secret inquiries regarding thisperson who is appointed your secretary."
"Ah, yes," she sighed. "I wonder who he is? I wonder what motive myfather could possibly have in placing my affairs in the hands of astranger?"
"He is probably an old friend of your father's," I suggested.
"No," she responded, "I knew all his friends. He had only one secretfrom me--the secret of the source of his wealth. That he always refusedpoint blank to tell me."
"I shall travel direct to Florence, and discover what I can before thelawyers give this mysterious person notice of your father's death," Isaid. "I may obtain some knowledge which will be of the greatestbenefit to us hereafter."
"Ah! it is really very good of you, Mr. Greenwood," she answered,lifting her beautiful eyes to mine with an expression of profoundgratitude. "I must admit that the idea of being closely associated witha stranger, and that stranger a foreigner, causes me considerableapprehension."
"But he may be young and good looking, the veritable Paolo of romance--and you his Francesca," I suggested, smiling.
Her sweet lips relaxed slightly, but she shook her head, sighing as sheanswered--
"Please don't anticipate anything of the kind. I only hope he may beold and very ugly."
"So that he will not arouse my jealousy--eh?" I laughed. "Really,Mabel, if our friendship were not upon such a well-defined basis, Ishould allow myself to act the part of lover. You know I--"
"Now don't be foolish," she interrupted, raising her small finger inmock reproval. "Remember what you said yesterday."
"I said what I meant."
"And so did I. To tell you the truth, I like to think of you as my bigbrother," she declared. "I suppose I shall never love," she added,reflectively, gazing into the blazing fire.
"No, no; don't say that, Mabel. You'll one day meet some man in yourown station, love him, marry and be happy," I said, my hand upon hershoulder. "Recollect that with your wealth you can secure the pick ofthe matrimonial market."
"Some impoverished young aristocrat, you mean? No, thanks. I'vealready met a good many, but their disguise of affection has always beenmuch too thin. Most of them wanted my money to pay off mortgages ontheir estates. No, I'd much prefer a poor man--although I shall _never_marry--never."
I was silent for a moment, then I remarked quite bluntly--
"I always thought you would marry young Lord Newborough. You bothseemed very good friends."
"So we were--until he proposed to me."
And she looked m
e straight in the face with that clear gaze and thosesplendid eyes wide open in wonderment, almost like a child's.
Her character was a strangely complex one. As a tall, willowy girl, inthose early days of our acquaintance, I knew her to be high-minded andwilful, yet of that sweet affectionate disposition that endeared her toevery one with whom she came into contact. Her nature was so calm andso sweet that in her love seemed an unconscious impulse. I had oftenthought she was surely too soft, too good, too fair to be cast among thebriers of the world, and fall and bleed upon the thorns of life.