EPISODE IX
THE BELL BUOY
A white yacht steamed slowly through calm water silvered by the moon.Maida and I were the only passengers. We had been married that day,and the yacht _Lily Maid_ was ours for the honeymoon, lent by Maida'snewly found cousins, Sir Robert and Lady Annesley.
"Look," I said, as passing through the Downs I caught sight of two darktowers showing above a cloud of trees on the Kentish coast. "Thosetowers are my brother's house. To-morrow I shall be there making himeat humble pie--and my sister-in-law too."
"I don't want you to make them eat humble pie!" laughed Maida.
"Well, they shall eat whatever you like. But would you care to anchornow? It's nearly midnight."
"Let's go on a little further," she decided. "It's so heavenly."
It was. I felt that I had come almost as near heaven as I could hopeto get. Maida was my wife at last, and she was happy. I believed thatshe was safe.
We went on, and the throb of the yacht's heart was like the throbbingof my own. Close together we stood, she and I, my arm clasping her.So we kept silence for a few moments, and my thoughts trailed back asthe moonlit water trailed behind us. I remembered many things: butabove all I remembered that other night of moonlight far away in Egypt,in a secret orange garden where men had dug a grave.
Why, yes, of course Maida was safe! One of her two enemies had diedthat night--the woman. Exactly how she died we did not know, but I andthe "king of the beggars" had found her lying, face downward, in themarble basin of a great fountain, dead in water not a foot deep. Thefountain was in a room whence, from one latticed window, the orangegarden and the fight there could have been seen. That window was open.Doubtless Essain's sister had believed her twin brother captured ordead. She had thought that, for herself, the end of all things hadcome with his downfall: punishment, failure and humiliation worse thandeath. So she had chosen death. But the man had escaped anddisappeared. The treasure hidden for thousands of years in themummy--treasure which the Head Sister boasted to Maida had been foundby Doctor Rameses--had disappeared with him.
The girl Hateb who had cared for Maida through her illness cared forher again that night, while Haroun and I guarded the shut door of theirroom. The next day Maida was able to start for Cairo, and Hateb (bothveiled, and in Egyptian dress) acted as her maid. Had it not been forHaroun's testimony and the respect felt by the authorities for the richbeggar, the happenings of that night and the woman's death might havedetained me at Hathor Set; but thanks to Haroun I was able to get Maidaaway. Thanks again partly to him and what he could tell (with whatMaida had been told by the Head Sister) the girl's past was no longer amystery. We knew the name of her people: and luckily it was a name toconjure with just then in Cairo. Colonel Sir Robert Annesley wasstationed there. He was popular and important; and I blessed all mystars because I had met him in England.
I wanted Maida to marry me in Cairo, with her cousin Sir Robert to giveher away: but the blow my brother had struck long ago had hurt hersensitive soul to the quick. She said that she could not be my wifeuntil Lord Haslemere and Lady Haslemere were willing to welcome her.She wanted no revenge, but she did want satisfaction.
I had to yield, since a man can't marry a girl by force nowadays, evenwhen she admits that she's in love. Sir Robert found her a chaperon,going to England, and I was allowed to sail on the same ship. Maidawas invited to stay with Lady Annesley until the wedding could bearranged on the bride's own "terms"; but Fate was more eloquent than I:she induced Maida to change her mind.
Lady Annesley was as brave (for herself and her husband) as a soldier'swife must be; but she had three children. For them, she was a coward.Maida had not been two days at the Annesley's Devonshire place, and Ihadn't yet been able to tackle Haslemere, when an anonymous letterarrived for the girl's hostess. It said that, if Lady Annesley wishedher three little boys to see their father come home, she would turn outof her house the enemy of a noble family whose vendetta was notcomplete. At first, the recipient of the letter was at a loss what tomake of it. Frightened and puzzled, she handed the document to Maida(this was at breakfast) and Maida was only too well able to explain.
The letter had a London postmark: and the girl knew then, with a shockof fear, that "Dr. Rameses" was in England--had perhaps reached therebefore her. An hour later I knew also--having motored from the hotelwhere I was stopping in Exeter. The question was, why did the enemywant to get the girl out of her cousin's house?--for that desire alonecould have inspired the anonymous warning. Without it, he might haveattempted a surprise stroke: but of his own accord, he had for somereason eliminated the element of surprise.
As for me, I was thankful. Not because Essain, alias Rameses, had cometo England, but because he was throwing Maida into my arms. Thisresult might be intended by him; but naturally I felt confident thatshe would be safe under my protection. I argued that she couldn'texpose Lady Annesley and the children to danger; the Annesleys hadsuffered enough for a sin of generations ago: and if she gave up theshelter of her cousin's house she must come to me. What mattered it,in such circumstances, whether the family welcome came before or afterthe wedding? I guaranteed that it would come. And so--owing to theanonymous letter, and its visible effect upon Lady Annesley, Maidaabandoned the dream she had cherished. We were married by speciallicence: and now, on the Annesley's yacht--too small to be needed forwar-service by the Admiralty--we stood on our wedding night.
"Nothing can ever separate us again, my darling!" I broke out suddenly,speaking my thought aloud.
"No, not even death," Maida said, softly, almost in a whisper.
"Don't think of death, my dearest!" I cut her short.
"I'll try not," she said. "But it seems so wonderful to dare behappy--after all. And the memory of that man--the thought of him--Iwon't call it fear, or let it be fear--is like a black spot in thebrightness. It's like that big floating black shape, moving justenough to show it is there, in the silver water. Do you see?" and shepointed. "Does that sound we hear, come from it--like a bell--afuneral bell tolling?"
"That's a bell buoy," I explained. "I remember it well. You know,when I was a boy I spent holidays with my brother at Hasletowers; and Iloved this old buoy. I've imagined a hundred stories about it; and--byJove--I wonder what that chap can be up to!"
The "chap" whose manoeuvres had caused me to break off and forget mynext sentence, was too far away to be made out distinctly. But he wasin a boat which I took to be a motor-boat, as it had skimmed along thebright water like a bird. He had stopped close to the bell buoy, andwas fitting a large round object over his head. Apparently it was adiver's helmet. In the boat I could see another figure, slimmer andsmaller, which might be that of a boy; and this companion gaveassistance when the helmeted one descended into the water over the sideof the boat. For an instant I saw--or fancied that I saw--that he hadsomething queer in his hand--something resembling a big bird-cage.Then he plunged under the surface, and was gone.
We were steaming slowly enough, however, for me to observe inretrospect, that the huge round head bobbed up a minute later, and thatthe black figure climbed back into the boat. But the cage-like objectwas no longer visible.
"Some repairs to the buoy, perhaps," I said, as the yacht took us on.But it seemed odd, I couldn't put the episode out of my mind. By andby I asked the yacht's captain to turn, and let us anchor not too farfrom the landing at Hasletowers, for me to go ashore comfortably when Iwished to do so next day. The boat with the two figures had vanished.The bell buoy swayed back and forth, sending out its tolling notes; andthe _Lily Maid_ was the only other thing to be seen on the water'ssilver.
* * * * *
At three o'clock the following afternoon I rowed myself ashore, andfrom the private landing walked up to my brother's house. I hadn'tseen him or my sister-in-law since the day when I ran--or ratherlimped--away from Violet's London nursing home with its crowdingflowers and sentimental ladies. But I
had written. I had told themthat I intended to marry Miss Madeleine Odell, the girl whom they haddriven from England, shamed and humiliated. I had told them who shereally was, and something of her romantic history. I had added thatthey should learn more when they were ready to apologise and welcomeher. Later, I had wired that we were being married unexpectedly soon,and that we should be pleased to have them at the wedding if theywished. Haslemere had wired back that they would be prevented bybusiness of importance from leaving home, but their absence was not tobe misunderstood. He invited me to call at Hasletowers and talkmatters over. On this, I telegraphed, making an appointment for theday after my marriage; because to "talk things over" was what I wantedto do--though perhaps not in precisely the way meant by Haslemere.
If I'd expected my arrival to be considered an event of importance, Ishould have been disappointed. Haslemere and Violet had the air offorgetting that months had passed since we met, that I'd been throughadventures, and that this was the day after my wedding. If we hadparted half an hour before, they could hardly have been more casual!
I was shown into the library, where Haslemere (a big, gaunt fellow ofthirty-eight, looking ten years older, and with the red hair of ourScottish ancestors) and Violet (of no particular age and much consciouscharm) were passionately occupied in reading a telegram. I thought itmight have been mine (delayed), but in this I was soon undeceived.
"Hello, Jack!" said Haslemere. "How are you, dear boy?" said Violet:and then both began to pour out what was in their hearts. It had notthe remotest connection with Maida or me. It concerned themselves andthe great charity sale of historic jewels which, it seemed, Violet wasorganising. What? I hadn't heard of it? They were astounded.England was talking of nothing else. Well, there was the war, ofcourse! But this subject and the war were practically one. The salewas for the benefit of mutilated officers. Nobody else had everthought of doing anything practical for _them_, only for the soldiers.Violet had started by giving the Douglas-heart ring which had come downto her from an ancestress made even more famous than she would havebeen otherwise, by Sir Walter Scott. This splendid example ofgenerosity had set the ball rolling. Violet had only to ask and tohave. All her friends had answered her call, and lots of outsiders whohoped thereby to become her friends. Any number of _nouveaux riches_creatures had actually _bought_ gorgeous antique jewels in order to laythem at Violet's shrine--and, incidentally, that of the MutilatedOfficers.
"Nearly a hundred thousand pounds' worth of jewels is here, in thisroom, at this moment," my sister-in-law went on impressively, "but itwon't be here many moments longer, I'm thankful to say! Theresponsibility has been too great for us both, this last week, whilethe collection grew, and we had to look after it. Now the whole lot isbeing sent to Christie's this afternoon, and the sale by auction willbegin to-morrow. It's the event of the season, bar nothing! We hopeto clear a quarter of a million if the bidding goes as we think. You_must_ bring your bride, and make her buy something. If she's one ofthe _right_ Annesleys, she must be aw'fly rich!"
"She is one of the right Annesleys," I managed to break in. "But, as Iwrote you and Haslemere, she has always been known as Madeleine Odell.You and he----"
"Oh, never mind that!" Haslemere cut me short. "You have married herwithout consulting us. If you'd asked my advice, I shouldcertainly--but we won't stir up the past! Let sleeping dogs lie, andbygones be bygones, and so on."
"Yes, we'll try and do our best for your wife," Violet added hastily,with an absent-minded eye. "When the sale is over, and we have time tobreathe, you must bring her here, and----"
"You both seem to misunderstand the situation, although I thought I'dmade things clear in my letter," I said. "You cruelly misjudged Maida.You believed lies about her, and put a public shame upon the innocentchild. Do you think I'd ever bring her into my brother's house untilhe and his wife had begged her forgiveness, and atoned as far as intheir power?"
"Good heavens, Jack, you must be mad!" Haslemere exclaimed. "I'dforgotten the affair until you revived it in my mind by announcing thatyou intended to marry a girl whose presentation I'd caused to becancelled. Then I remembered. I acted at the time only as it was myduty to act, according to information received. An Americanacquaintance of Violet's--a widow of good birth whose word could not bedoubted, told us a tragic story in which Miss Odell had played--well,to put it mildly, in consideration for you--had played an unfortunatepart."
"The name of this American widow was Granville," I cut in, "and thetragedy was that of her son."
"It was. I see you know."
"I know the true version of the story. And I expect you and Violet tolisten to it."
"We can't listen to anything further now, dear boy. We've moreimportant--I beg your pardon--we've more _pressing_ things to attendto," said Violet. "You've a right to your point of view, and we don'twant to hurt your feelings. But I don't think you ought to want _us_to go against our convictions, unless to be civil, for your sake, andavoid scandal. We'll do our best, I told you; you must be satisfiedwith that. And really, we _can't_ talk about this any longer, becausejust before you came we'd a telegram from Drivenny to say he and Combesand Blackburn will be here an hour earlier than the appointment. Thatwill land them on us at any instant; and I don't care to be agitated,please!"
"Drivenny is the great jewel expert," Haslemere condescended toenlighten my amateurish intelligence. "Combes is the Scotland Yardman, as you know: and Blackburn is the famous detective from New Yorkwho's in London now. We don't understand why they come before theirtime, but no doubt they've an excellent reason and we shall hear itsoon. You shall see them, if you like. You're interested indetectives."
"It sounds like a plot," I remarked, so angry with my brother and hiswife that I found a mean pleasure in trying to upset them. "You'dbetter make jolly well sure that the right men come. As you areresponsible for the jewels----"
Haslemere laughed. "You talk as if you were a detective in a boy'sstory paper! Not likely I should be such a fool as to hand the boodleover to men I didn't know by sight! They have been here before, in abunch, Drivenny judging the jewels, the detectives----"
"My lord, the three gentlemen from London have arrived in a motor-car,"announced a footman. "They wished to send their cards to yourlordship." He presented a silver tray with three crude butbusiness-like cards lying on it.
"Show them in at once," said Haslemere. He stood in front of abookcase containing the works of George Eliot, Charles Dickens and SirWalter Scott. I knew that bookcase well, and the secret which it sorespectably hid. Behind, was the safe in which our family had forseveral generations placed such valuables as happened to be in thehouse. Haslemere slid back with a touch a little bronze ornamentdecorating a hinge on the glass door. In a tiny recess underneath wasthe head of a spring, which he pressed. The whole bookcase slippedalong the wall and revealed the safe. Haslemere opened this, and tookout a despatch box. While Violet received the box from his hands andlaid it on a table near by, my brother closed the safe, and replacedthe bookcase. A moment later, the three important visitors wereushered into the room, their names pronounced with respect by theservant: "Mr. Drivenny: Mr. Blackburn: Mr. Combes."
Haslemere met his guests with civility and honoured them consciously bypresenting the trio to Violet. "This is my brother, back from amilitary mission to America," he indicated me casually, withouttroubling to mention my name.
The three men looked at me, and I at them. It struck me that theywould not have been sorry to dispense with my presence. There was justa flash of something like chagrin which passed across the faces: thethin, aquiline face of Drivenny, spectacled, beetle-browed,clean-shaven: the square, puffy-cheeked face of Combes: the red, roundface of the American, Blackburn. The flash vanished as quickly as itcame, leaving the three middle-aged countenances impassive; but it mademe wonder. Why should the jewel-expert and the two detectives objectto the presence of another beside Lord and Lady Haslemere, when thatother w
as a near relative of the family? Surely it was a triflingdetail that I should witness the ceremony of their taking over thecontents of the tin box?
Whatever their true feelings might have been, by tacit consent I wasmade to realise that I counted for no more in the scene than a fly onthe wall, to Haslemere and Violet. No notice was taken of me whileHaslemere unlocked the despatch box, and Violet--as the organiser ofthe scheme--took out the closely piled jewel-boxes it contained. Thisdone, she proceeded to arrange them on the long oak table, cleared forthe purpose. I stood in the background, as one by one the neatlynumbered velvet, satin or Russia-leather cases were opened, and thedescription of the jewels within read aloud by Haslemere from a list.Each of the three new-comers had a duplicate list, and there wasconsiderable talk before the cases were closed, and returned to thedespatch box. Most of this talk came from Violet and Haslemere, bothof whom were excited. As for Drivenny, Blackburn and Combes, it seemedto me that, in their hearts, they would gladly have hastenedproceedings. They were polite but intensely business-like, and as soonas they could manage it the box was stuffed into a commonplace brownkitbag which the footman had brought in with the visitors. The threehad motored from London to Hasletowers; and they smiled drily whenViolet asked if they "thought there was danger of an attack on the wayback."
"None whatever," replied the square-faced Combes. "We've made sure ofthat. There's too much at stake to run risks."
"Don't you remember I told you, Violet, what Mr. Combes said before?"Haslemere reminded his wife: "that the road between here and Christie'swould swarm with plain clothes men in motors and on bicycles. If everygang of jewel-thieves in England or Europe were on this job, they'dhave their trouble for their pains."
"I remember," Violet admitted, "but there's been such a lot about thisaffair in the papers! Thieves are so clever----"
"Not so clever as our friends," Haslemere admonished her, with one ofhis slightly patronising smiles for the jewel-expert and thedetectives. "That's why they've got the upper hand; that's why we'veasked their co-operation."
"Oh, of course!" exclaimed Violet. They all spent the next sixtyseconds in compliments: and at the end of that time Mr. Combesannounced that he and his companions had better be off. It would bewell to complete the business. Mr. Drivenny asked Haslemere if hewould care to go to Christie's in the car with them, as a matter ofform, and Haslemere replied that he considered it unnecessary. Thevaluables, in such hands, were safe as in the Bank of England. Thethree men were invited to have drinks, but refused: and Haslemerehimself accompanied them to their car. Violet and I stared at it fromthe window. It was an ordinary-looking grey car, with anordinary-looking grey chauffeur.
When Haslemere came back to the library, I took up the subject whichthe arrival of the men had made me drop.
What did my brother and sister-in-law intend to do, to atone to mywife? Apparently they intended to do nothing: could not see why theyshould do anything: resented my assertion that they had done wrong inthe past, and were not accustomed to being accused or called to account.
My heart had been set on obtaining poetic justice for Maida; but I knewshe wouldn't wish me to plead. That would be for us both a newhumiliation added to the old; an Ossa piled upon Pelion. Losing hope,I indulged myself by losing also my temper.
"Very well," I said. "Maida will be a success without help from you.As for me----"
"Mr. Drivenny, Mr. Blackburn and Mr. Combes," announced a footman--notthe same who had made the announcement before.
"What--they've come _back_!" Violet and Haslemere exclaimed together."Show them in."
Evidently something had gone wrong! Even I, in the midst of my rage,was pricked to curiosity.
The three men came in: thin, aquiline Drivenny, square, puffy-facedCombes, and red, round Blackburn. It was not more than half an hoursince they had gone, yet already they had changed their clothes. Theywere all dressed differently, not excepting boots and hats: and Combeshad a black kitbag in place of the brown one. Even in their faces,figures and bearings there was some subtle change.
"Good gracious! What's happened?" Violet gasped.
The men seemed surprised.
"We're a little before our time, my lady," said Combes, "but----"
Haslemere snatched the words from his mouth. "But you telegraphed.You came here----"
"We didn't telegraph, my lord," the detective respectfully contradictedhim.
Violet gave a cry, and put her hands up to her head, staring at thetrio so subtly altered. As before, I was a back-ground figure. I saidnothing, but I thought a good deal. The trick jokingly suggested by mehad actually been played.
At first neither Violet nor Haslemere would believe the dreadful thing.It was too bad to be true. These, not the other three, were theimpostors! Violet staggered towards the bell to call the servants, butCombes showed his police badge: and between the trio it was soon madeclear that the Marquis and Marchioness of Haslemere had let themselvesbe utterly bamboozled. They had of their own free will handed over toa pack of thieves nearly one hundred thousand pounds worth of famousjewels: not even their own, but other people's jewels entrusted to themfor charity!
There was, however, not a moment to waste in repinings. The localpolice were warned by telephone; the escaping car and chauffeur weredescribed, and the genuine detectives, with the jewel-expert, dashedoff in pursuit of their fraudulent understudies. Meantime, while theothers talked, I reflected; and an astonishing idea began tocrystallise in my brain. When Violet was left crying on Haslemere'sshoulder (sobbing that she was ruined, that she would kill herselfrather than face the blame of her friends) I made my voice heard.
"I know you and Haslemere always hated my detective talents--if any.But they might come in useful now, if I could get an inspiration," Iremarked.
Violet caught me up.
"_Have_ you an inspiration?"
"Perhaps."
"For heaven's sake what is it?"
"If I have one, it's my own," I drily replied. "I don't see why Ishould give it away. This is _your_ business--yours and Haslemere's.Why should I be interested? Neither of you are interested in mine."
"You mean, your ideas are for sale?" Haslemere exclaimed, in virtuousdisgust, seizing my point.
"My _help_ is for sale--at a price."
"The price of our receiving your wife, I suppose!" he accused mebitterly.
"Oh, it's higher than that! I may have guessed something. I may beable to do something with that guess; but I'm hanged if I'll dedicate athought or act to your service unless you, Haslemere, personally askMaida's forgiveness for the cruel injustice you once did withoutstopping to make sure whether you were right or wrong: unless you,Violet, ask my wife--_ask_ her, mind you!--to let you present her tothe King and Queen at the first Court after the war."
"We'll do anything--anything!" wailed Violet. "I'll crawl on my kneesfor a mile to your Maida, if only you can really get the jewels backbefore people find out how we've been fooled."
"I don't want you to crawl," said I. "You can walk, or even motor toMaida--or come out in a boat to the yacht where she's waiting for meand my news. But if I can do any useful work, it will be to-night."
"Do you think you can--oh, do you _think_ you can?" Violet implored.
"That's just what I must do. I must think," I said. "Perhapsmeanwhile the police will make a lucky stroke If so, you'll owe menothing. If they don't----"
"They won't--I feel they won't!" my sister-in-law sobbed.
Suddenly I had become the sole person of importance in her world. Shepinned her one forlorn hope to me, like a flag nailed to a mast in astorm. And I--saw a picture before my mind's eye of a dark figure in aboat, putting on a thing that looked like a diver's helmet. Queer,that--very queer!
* * * * *
So utterly absorbed was I in my new-born theory and in trying to workit out, that for the first time since I met and loved her I ceasedconsciously to think of Maida. Of c
ourse she was the incentive. If Iput myself into Haslemere's service, I was working for _her_: to earntheir gratitude, and lay their payment at her feet. Far away in thedimmest background of my brain was the impression that I was a cleverfellow: that I was being marvellously intelligent: and at that moment Iwas more of a fool than I had ever been in my life. I thought I sawRameses' hand moving in the shadows, using my brother and his wife aspawns in his game of chess. Yet it didn't occur to my mind that he wasusing me also: that he had pushed me far along the board, for hisconvenience, while I believed myself acting in my own interests andMaida's. I had flattered myself that my white queen was safe on thesquare where I had placed her, guarded by knight, bishop and castle.Yet while I went on with the game at a far end of the board, Ramesessaid "Check!" Another move, and it would be checkmate.
I was gone longer than Maida had expected, but she was not anxious.The yacht at anchor, lay in sight of the towers Which I had pointed outthe night before, rising above a dusky cloud of trees. From Maida'sdeck-chair she could see them against the sky; and she could have seenthe landing-place where I had gone ashore, had it not been hiddenbehind a miniature promontory. She tried to read, but it was hard toconcentrate her mind on any book, while her future was being decided.In spite of herself, she would find her eyes wandering from the pageand focussing on the little green promontory that screened the landing.At any moment I might appear from behind those rocks and bushes.
Suddenly, just as she had contrived to lose herself in a poem of RupertBrooke's, the throb of a motor-boat caught her ear. She glancedeagerly up, to see a small automobile craft rounding the promontory.Apparently it had come from the private landing-place of Hasletowers,but the girl could not be certain of this until she had made sure itwas headed for the yacht. Presently it had stopped alongside, andMaida saw that it had on board a man and a boy. The man, in a yachtingcap and thick coat of the "pea-jacket" variety, absorbed himself deeplyin the engine. What he was doing Maida neither knew nor cared; but ittook his whole attention. He humped his back over his work and had noteven the human curiosity to look up. It was the boy who hailed the_Lily Maid_, and announced that he had a message for Lady John Haslefrom her sister-in-law, Lady Haslemere. It was a verbal message, whichhe had been ordered to deliver himself; and three minutes later he wason deck carrying out his duty.
"If you please, m'lady, the Marquis and Marchioness of Haslemere sendtheir best compliments, and would you favour them by going in this boatto meet her ladyship on board the yacht of a friend? You will bejoined a little later by the Marquis, and Lord John Hasle, who are atthe house, kept by important business."
"I don't understand," Maida hesitated. "My hus--Lord John went onshore some time ago. I thought--was Lady Haslemere not at home afterall?"
"That's it, m'lady," briskly explained the lad. "She was away on boardthis yacht I'm speaking of. Her ladyship hasn't been well--a bit of aninvalid, or she'd come to you. But Lord John Hasle thought you mightnot mind----"
"Of course I don't mind," Maida answered him, believing that she beganto see light upon the complicated situation. "I'll be ready to startin five minutes."
And she was. Her maid gave her a veiled hat and long cloak; and shewas helped on board the motorboat. Still the elder member of its crewdid not turn, but went on feverishly rubbing something with an oilyrag. The dainty white-clad passenger was made comfortable, the boytucking a rug over her knees. As he did this, he glanced up from underhis cap, as if involuntarily, straight into Maida's chiffon-coveredface. She had been too busy thinking of other things to notice the ladwith particularity: but with his face so close to hers for an instant,it struck her for the first time that it was like another faceremembered with distaste. There rose before Maida a fleeting pictureof a young lay sister at the house of the Grey Sisterhood far away onLong Island. The girl had been of the monkey type, lithe and thin,brown and freckled, her age anything between seventeen and twenty-two;and she had seemed to regard Miss Odell, the Head Sister's favourite,with jealous dislike.
"The same type," thought Maida. "They might be brother and sister.But the boy is better looking than the girl. Funny they should lookalike: she so American, he with his strong Cockney accent!"
A minute more, and the motor-boat had left the side of the _Lily Maid_and was shooting away past the private landing-place of Hasletowers.She took the direction whence the yacht had come the previous night,before the dark shapes above the trees had been pointed out by me.Still, there was no other yacht in sight: the waters were empty savefor a little black speck far away which might be, Maida thought, thebell buoy of which we had talked. Indeed, as the boat glided on--atvisibly reduced speed now--she fancied that she caught the dolefulnotes of the tolling bell.
"The yacht where Lady Haslemere expects us, must be a long way fromshore;" Maida said.
"Don't be impatient," the man's voice answered. "You will come to yourdestination soon enough."
A thrill of horror ran through her veins with an electric shock. Sheknew the voice. She had heard it last in a house in Egypt. The manturned deliberately as he spoke, and looked at her. The face was theface of her past dream, the still more dread reality of her present----
And so, after all, this was to be the end of her love story!
"You do not speak," Essain said.
"I have nothing to say," Maida heard herself answer; and she wonderedat the calmness of her own voice. It was low, but it scarcelytrembled. So sure she was that there was no hope, no help, she was noteven frightened. Simply, she gave herself up for lost: and the sickstab of pain in her heart was for me. She was afraid--but only afraidthat I might reproach myself for leaving her alone.
"You've no doubt now as to what your destination is?" the voice wenton, quivering with exultation as Maida's did not quiver with dread.
"I have no doubt," she echoed.
"No appeal to my pity?"
"I made none before. It would have been worse than useless then--andit would now."
"You are right!" the man said. "It would be useless. I have lived forthis. My one regret is that my sister sacrificed her life in vain.But she and I will meet--soon it may be--and I shall tell her that wedid not fail."
"If you tell her the truth, you will have to say you couldn't make medie a coward," Maida answered, "and so your triumph isn't worth much."
"It is the end of the vendetta, and our promise to our father will havebeen kept," said Essain. "That is enough. I do not expect a woman ofyour ancestry to be a coward."
"She doesn't know yet what you're going to do with her," cut in hiscompanion. The Cockney accent was gone. Maida started slightly insurprise, and stared at the brown, monkey face with its ears whichstuck out on the close-cropped head. The voice was only too easy torecognise now.
"Be silent, you cat!" Essain commanded savagely. "Your business is toobey. Leave the rest to me."
He turned again to Maida. "You see," he said, "my sister and I neverlacked for servants. I have many on this side of the water--aseverywhere when I want them. But this one is rather over-zealousbecause she happened not to be among the admirers of Miss Odell at theSisterhood House. She wants you to realise that she is enough in myconfidence to know what is due to happen next. I intend to tellyou--not to please her, but to please myself. I have earned thesatisfaction! First, however, I have a few other explanations to make.I think they may interest you, Lady John Hasle! .... My organisationsare as powerful in Europe as in the States. Through some of my bestmen your new family is going to be disgraced. There will be afirst-class scandal, and they will have to pay, to the tune of onehundred thousand pounds, to crush it. They're far from rich. I'm notsure they can do the trick--unless your clever husband stumps up withthe fortune he'll inherit from you, on your death. I shall beinterested, as an outsider, to see the developments. Meanwhile I'veput into my pocket, and my friends' pockets, the exact sum which mustcome out of theirs--or rather I shall in a few moments from now do so,as you y
ourself will see."
By this time they had come close to the bell buoy; and Maida rememberedhow, with me, she had leaned on the deck-rail idly watching thesilhouettes of a man and a boy in a motor-boat.
"It was you we saw last night!" she exclaimed. "You put on a diver'shelmet. You had a thing like an empty cage in your hand. You wentdown under the water----"
"Ah, you saw that from the yacht, did you?" broke in Essain. "I wasafraid, when I caught sight of the passing yacht, that it might havebeen so! But it doesn't matter. Lord John fancies himself adetective--but it's luck, more than skill, which has favoured him sofar: and his luck won't bring him to the bell buoy until I want him tocome--which I shall do, later. The cage you saw isn't empty to-day, ifany of Lord John's luck is on my friends' side, and I'm sure it is. Iplaced the receptacle ready last night. Now, I think it will be filledwith jewelled fish, which I have come to catch. In their place I shallgive it a feed of stones, heavy enough to hold it down. And deep underthe still water you shall be its guardian, till I'm out of England andcan let Lord John have a hint where to look for his lost wife."
Maida remembered what I had told her last night: how, when I was a boyI had loved the old bell buoy and "imagined a thousand stories aboutit." Surely I could never have invented one so strange as this--thisend of our love story for which the bell tolled!
"When he finds me gone, he will never think of the bell buoy," Maidatold herself.
But I had thought of it even without knowing that she was gone. I hadput myself into Rameses' skin, and let my mind follow the workings ofhis since the sending of the anonymous letter to Lady Annesley, just upto the moment when those two dark silhouettes had passed near themoonlit bell buoy. I had cursed myself for not seeing how it mighthave suited Rameses' book to have Maida isolated on board the _LilyMaid_--certain to be offered to her if she left Annesley's house to bemarried in a hurry. I had called myself every kind of madman and foolfor leaving her alone at the mercy of the enemy, and--having done allthis I went straight to Southampton in my brother's highest-poweredcar, to hire a motorboat of my own.
That is how I got to the bell buoy just as Essain and his companion hademptied the iron cage of its treasures and were filling it with stoneswhile Maida lay bound hand and foot in the bottom of the boat.
Rameses had ready a tiny bottle of Prussic acid which he crushedbetween his teeth at sight of me and the two policemen fromSouthampton. But the disguised girl lived, and through her we foundthe false Combes, Blackburn and Drivenny, members all of the old NewYork gang who had played me so many tricks. Nobody outside has everyet heard the story of the imposture and the theft; nor will they knowtill they see this story in print. By then the jewel auction will havebeen forgotten by the world. Only we shall not forget. But we are toohappy, Maida and I, to remember with bitterness.
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