CHAPTER X
A CONTEST
A few days passed; the usual round of pastimes inseparable from houseparties served to while away the hours; other guests arrived, one or twowent. Lord Ronsdale had greeted John Steele perfunctorily; the other'smanner was likewise mechanically courteous. It could not very well havebeen otherwise; a number of people were near.
"Come down for a little sport?" the nobleman, his hands carelesslythrust into the pockets of his shooting trousers, had asked with afrosty smile.
"Perhaps--if there is any!" Steele allowed his glance for the fractionof a moment to linger on Lord Ronsdale's face.
"I'll answer for that." A slight pause ensued. "Decided rather suddenlyto run down, didn't you?"
"Rather."
"Heard you were on the continent. From Sir Charles, don't you know.Pleasant time, I trust?" he drawled.
"Thank you!" John Steele did not answer directly. "Your solicitude," helaughed, "honors me--my Lord!"
And that had been all, all the words spoken, at least. To the othersthere had been nothing beneath the surface between them; for the timethe two men constituted but two figures in a social gathering.
A rainy spell put a stop to outdoor diversions; for twenty-four hoursnow the party had been thrown upon their own resources, to devise suchindoor amusement as occurred to them. Strathorn House, however, waslarge; it had its concert stage, a modern innovation; its armory halland its ball-room. Pleasure seekers could and did find here amplefacilities for entertaining themselves.
The second morning of the dark weather discovered two of the guests inthe oak-paneled smoking-room of Strathorn House. One of them brushed theash from his cigar meditatively and then stretched himself morecomfortably in the great leather chair.
"No fox-hunt or fishing for any of us to-day," he remarked with a yawn.
The other, who had been gazing through a window at a prospect ofdripping leaves and leaden sky, answered absently; then his attentioncentered itself on the small figure of a boy coming up through theavenue of trees toward a side entrance.
"Believe I shall run over to Germany very soon, Steele," went on thefirst speaker.
"Indeed?" John Steele's brows drew together; the appearance of the ladwas vaguely familiar. He remembered him now, the hostler boy at theGolden Lion.
"Yes; capital case coming on in the criminal courts there."
"And you don't want to miss it, Forsythe?"
"Not I! Weakness of mine, as you know. Most people look to novels orplays for entertainment; I find mine in the real drama, unfolded everyday in the courts of justice."
Forsythe paused as if waiting for some comment from his companion, butnone came. John Steele watched the boy; he waved a paper in his hand andcalled with easy familiarity to a housemaid in an open window above:
"Telegram from London, Miss. My master at the Golden Lion said there'dbe a sixpence here for delivering it!"
"Well, I'll be down in a moment, Impudence."
The silence that followed was again broken by Captain Forsythe's voice:"There are one or two features in this German affair that remind me ofanother case, some years back--one of our own--that interested me."
"Ah?" The listener's tone was only politely interrogatory.
"A case here in London--perhaps you have heard of it? The murder of awoman, once well-known before the footlights, by a one-time champion ofthe ring--the 'Frisco Pet, I think he was called."
The other moved slightly; his back had been toward Forsythe; he nowhalf-turned. "Yea, I have heard of it," he said slowly, after a pause."But why should this case across the water interest you; because it islike--this other one you mention?"
"Because I once puzzled a bit over that one; investigated it somewhat onmy own account, don't you know."
"In what way?" Steele's manner was no longer indifferent. "I'm ratherfamiliar with some of the details myself," he added.
"Then it attracted you, too, as an investigator?" murmured the captainin a gratified tone. "For your book, perhaps?"
"Not exactly. But you haven't yet told me," in a keen, alert tone, "whyyou looked into it, 'on your own account.' It seems simple, obvious. Notof the kind that would attract one fond of nice criminal problems."
"That is just it," said Captain Forsythe, rising. "It was, perhaps, alittle too simple! too obvious."
"How," demanded John Steele, "can a matter of this sort be too obvious?But," bending his eyes on the other, "you attended the trial of thisfellow?" His tone vibrated a little oddly.
"The last part of it; wasn't in England when it first came on; and whatI heard of it raised some questions and doubts in my mind. Not that Ihaven't the greatest respect for English justice! However, I didn'tthink much more about the case until a good many months later, whenchance alone drew my attention more closely to it."
"Chance?"
"Was down in the country--jolly good trout district--when one night,while riding my favorite hobby, I happened to get on thisalmost-forgotten case of the 'Frisco Pet. Whereupon the landlord of theinn where I put up, informed me that one of the villagers in thisidentical little town had been landlady at the place where the affairoccurred."
"The woman who testified no one had been to her place that nightexcept--" John Steele spoke sharply.
"This fellow? Quite so." Captain Forsythe walked up and down. "Now, I'dalways had a little theory. Could never get out of my mind one sentencethis poor, ignorant fellow uttered at the trial. 'Seems as if I couldremember a man's face, a stranger's, that looked into mine that night,your Lordship, but I ain't exactly cock-sure!' 'Ain't exactlycock-sure,'" repeated Captain Forsythe. "That's what caught me. Would aman, not telling the truth, be not quite 'cock-sure'; or would hetestify to the face as a fact?" The other did not answer. "So theimpression grew on me. Can you understand?"
"Hum! Very interesting, Forsythe; very ingenious; quite plausible!"
"Now you're laughing at me, Steele?"
"On the contrary, my dear fellow, go on."
"The landlady's testimony excluded the face, made it a figment of animagination, disordered by drink!" Captain Forsythe waved his handairily as he stepped back and forth.
"You went to see this woman?"
"Out of curiosity, and found she was, indeed, the same person. Sheseemed quite ill and feeble; I talked with her about an hour that day.Tried in every way to get her to remember she had possibly let in someother person that night, but--"
"But?"
"Bless you, she stuck to her story," laughed Captain Forsythe. "Couldn'tmove her an iota." One of the listener's arms fell to his side; his handclosed hard. "Quite bowled over my little theory, don't you know! Ofcourse I told myself it didn't matter; the man convicted was gone,drowned. However,--" he broke off. A swish of silk was heard in thehallway; Forsythe stopped before the door.
"Ah, Miss Jocelyn! Haven't you a word in passing?"
She paused, looked in. Amid neutral shades the girl's slender figureshone most insistent; her gown, of a color between rose and pink, waswarm-hued rather than bright, like the tints in an ancient embroidery.Around her neck gleamed a band of old cloth of silver but the warmth oftone did not cease at the argent edge, but leaped over to kiss the faircheeks and soft, smiling lips. "Is this the way you men amuseyourselves?" she asked with a laugh. "Talking shop, no doubt?"
"Afraid we must plead guilty," said Captain Forsythe.
"And that is why," with a quick sidelong glance, drawing her skirtsaround her as she stood gracefully poised, "Mr. Steele appears sointerested?"
"Interested?" The subject of her comment seemed to pull himself togetherwith a start, regarded her. Was he, in the surprise of the moment, justin the least disconcerted by that bright presence, the beautiful cleareyes, straight, direct, though laughing? "Perhaps appearances are--" hefound himself saying.
"Deceptive!" she completed lightly. "Well, if you weren't interested,Captain Forsythe was. He, I know, is quite incorrigible when you get himon his hobby."
"Oh, I say
, Miss Jocelyn!"
She came forward; light and brightness entered the room with her."Quite!" The slender figure stood between the two men. "We expect anytime he'll be looking around here next, to find something toinvestigate!"
"Here?" John Steele smiled. "What should he find here?"
"In sleepy Strathorn? True!"
A shrill whistle smote the air; Steele's glance turned to the window.The boy, having delivered his message, had left the door; with lipspuckered to the loud and imperfect rendition of a popular street melody,he was making his way through the grounds. Involuntarily the man's looklingered on him. "A telegram from London? For whom?"
"I'm afraid it's hopeless, Captain Forsythe. Nothing ever happens atStrathorn." At the instant the girl's laughing voice seemed a littlefarther off. "If something only would--to help pass the time. Don't youagree with me, Mr. Steele?"
"I--" his glance returned to her quickly, "by all means!"
She looked at him; had she detected that momentary swerving from theserious consideration of her light words? Her own eyes turned to thewindow where they saw nothing but rain. She smiled vaguely, stood withher hands behind her; it was he now who regarded her, straight, slender,lithe. There was also something inflexible appearing in that young form,though so replete with grace and charm.
"To help pass the time!" John Steele laughed. "I--let us hope so."
There had been moments in the past when she had felt she could not quiteunderstand him; they were moments like these when she seemed to becomeaware of something obscuring, falling before her--between them--thatseemed to hold him aloof from her, from the others, to invest him almostwith mystery. Mystery,--romantic idea! A slight laugh welled from thewhite throat. In these prosaic days!
"By the way, what particular case were you discussing when I happenedby?"
"Nothing very new," answered the military man, "an old crime perpetratedby a fellow called the--"
"Beg pardon!" A footman stood in the doorway. "Sir Charles' complimentsto the gentlemen, and will they be good enough to join him in armoryhall?"
John Steele turned quickly to the servant, so quickly a close observermight have fancied he welcomed the interruption. "Captain Forsythe's andMr. Steele's compliments to Sir Charles," he said at once, "and say itwill give them pleasure to comply. That is," he added, bowing, "withyour permission, Miss Wray."
She assented lightly; preceded by the girl, the two men left the roomand mounted the broad stairway leading to the second story.
Armory hall was a large and lofty chamber with vaulted ceiling, thatdated back almost to the early Norman period; its walls, decorated ingeometrical designs, were covered with many varieties of antique weaponsof warfare; halberd and mace gleamed and mingled with harquebus, poleaxor lance. At one end of the hall were ranged in a row suits of armorwhich at first glance looked like real knights, drawn up in companyfront; then the empty helmets dawned on the beholder, transforming theminto mere vacuous relics.
As Steele and his companion together with Jocelyn Wray entered, soundsof merriment and applause greeted the ear; two men in fencing array whohad apparently just ended a match were the center of an animatedcompany.
"A little contest with the foils! A fencing bout! Good!" exclaimedForsythe.
Jocelyn Wray walked over to the group and Forsythe followed.
"Bravo, Ronsdale!" A number of people applauded.
"He has won. Now the reward! What is it to be?"
"Not so fast! Here are others."
"True!" Ronsdale looked around with his cold smile; his glance vaguelyincluded John Steele and Captain Forsythe.
"Count me out!" laughed the latter. "Not in my line, don't you know,since I joined the retired list!"
"However, there's Steele," Sir Charles, pipe in hand, remarked.
Ronsdale had stepped to the girl's side; his eyes, regarding her in theleast degree too steadily, shone with a warmer gleam. She appearedeither not to notice, or to mind; with look unreservedly bright, shesmiled back at him; then her gaze met John Steele's.
"Do you use the foils, Mr. Steele?"
He moved forward; Lord Ronsdale stood near her, bending over with aslightly proprietary air.
"I--" Steele looked at them, at the girl's questioning eyes. "Only alittle!"
"Then you must try conclusions with Lord Ronsdale!" called out SirCharles. "As victor over the rest he must meet all comers."
A light swept John Steele's face; perhaps the situation appealed to acertain sense of humor; he hesitated.
"Nothing to be put out by, being beaten by Ronsdale," interposed anobserver. "Had the reputation of being one of the best swordsmen on thecontinent; has even had, I believe," with a laugh, "one or two littleaffairs of honor."
"Honor!" Steele's glance swung around, played brightly on the nobleman.
The latter's face remained impassive; he lifted his foil carelessly andswung it; the hiss that followed might have been construed as achallenge. John Steele tossed aside his coat.
"Can't promise this contest will be as interesting as the other littleaffairs you speak of!" he laughed. Through the fine, white linen of hisshirt could be discerned the superb swell and molding of the muscles, ashe now, with the gleaming toy in hand, stood before Ronsdale.
The latter's eyes suddenly narrowed; a covert expectancy made itselffelt in his manner. "Aren't you going to roll up your sleeve?" he askedsoftly. "Usually find it gives greater freedom of movement, myself."
Steele did not at once reply; in his eyes bent on Ronsdale a questionseemed to flash; then a bolder, more daring light replaced it. "Perhapsyou are right!" he said coolly, and following the nobleman's example hepushed back his sleeve. The action revealed the splendid arm of theperfectly-trained athlete marked, however, by a great scar extendingfrom just above the wrist to the elbow. Lord Ronsdale's eyes fastened onit; his lips moved slightly but if any sound fell from them, it wasrendered inaudible by Sir Charles' exclamation:
"Bad jab, that, Steele! Looks as if it might have been made by anAfrican spear!"
"No." John Steele smiled, encountering other glances, curious,questioning. "Can't include the land of ivory among the countries I'vebeen in," he added easily.
Lord Ronsdale breathed quickly. "Recent wound, I should say."
"Not very old," said John Steele.
"If there's a good story back of it, we'll have it later," CaptainForsythe remarked.
"Perhaps Mr. Steele is too modest to tell it," Ronsdale againinterposed.
"Your good opinion flatters me." Steele's eyes met the other's squarely;then he made a brusk movement. "But if you are ready?"
Their blades crossed. Ronsdale's suppleness of wrist and arm, his coldsteadiness, combined with a knowledge of many fine artifices, hadalready made him a favorite with those of the men who cared to backtheir opinions with odd pounds. As he pressed his advantage, the girl'seyes turned to John Steele; her look seemed to express just a shade ofdisappointment. His manner, or method, appeared perfunctory, tooperfunctory! Why did he not enter into the contest with more abandon?Between flashes of steel she again saw the scar on his arm; it seemed toexercise a sort of fascination over her.
What had caused it, this jagged, irregular mark? He had not said. LordRonsdale's words, "A recent wound--perhaps Mr. Steele is too modest--"returned to her. It was not so much the words as the tone, an inflectionalmost too fine to notice, a covert sneer. Or, was it that? Her browsdrew together slightly. Of course not. And yet she felt vaguely puzzled,as if some fine instinct in her divined something, she knew not what,beneath the surface. Absurd! Her eyes at that moment met John Steele's.Did he read, guess what was passing through her brain? An instant'scarelessness nearly cost him the match.
"Ten to five!" one of the men near her called out jovially. "Odds onRonsdale! Any takers?"
"Done!"
She saw John Steele draw himself back sharply just in time; she alsofancied a new, ominous gleam in his eyes. His demeanor underwent anabrupt change. If Ronsdale's quickness was cat
-like, the other'smovements had now all the swiftness and grace of a panther. The girl'seyes widened; all vague questioning vanished straightway from her mind;it was certainly very beautiful, that agility, that deft, incessantwrist play.
"Hello!" Through the swishing of steel she heard again the man at herside exclaim, make some laughing remark: "Perhaps I'd better hedge--"
But even as he spoke, with a fiercer thrusting and parrying of bladesthe end came; a sudden irresistible movement of John Steele's arm, andthe nobleman's blade clattered to the floor.
"Egad! I never saw anything prettier!" Sir Charles came forward quickly."Met your match that time, Ronsdale," in a tone the least bantering.
The nobleman stooped for his foil. "That time, yes!" he drawled. If hefelt chagrin, or annoyance, he concealed it.
"Lucky it wasn't one of those real affairs of honor, eh?" some one whomRonsdale had defeated laughed good-naturedly.
Again he replied. Steele found himself walking with Jocelyn Wray towardthe window. Across the room a footman who had been waiting for theconclusion of the contest, and an opportune moment, now approached LordRonsdale and extended a salver.
"It came a short time ago, my Lord!"
John Steele heard; his glance flashed toward Ronsdale. The telegram,then, had been for--? He saw an inscrutable smile cross the nobleman'sface.
"Any more aspirants?" the military man called out.
"Only myself left," observed Sir Charles. "And I resign the privilege!"
"Then," said the girl, standing somewhat apart with John Steele, nearone of the great open windows, "must you, Mr. Steele, be proclaimedvictor?"
"Victor!" He looked down. Between them bright colors danced, reflectionsof hues from the old stained glass above; they shone like red rosesfallen from her lap at his feet. For a moment he continued to regardthem; then slowly gazed up to the soft colored gown, to the beautifulyoung face, the hair that shone brightly against the background ofbranches and twigs, gleaming with watery drops like thousands of gems."Victor!" He--
A door closed quietly as Lord Ronsdale went out.
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