Chapter XXXV
Lydia was dressing for her journey when Mrs. Cole-Mortimer came into thesaloon where Jean was writing.
"There's a telephone call from Monte Carlo," she said. "Somebody wantsto speak to Lydia."
Jean jumped up.
"I'll answer it," she said.
The voice at the other end of the wire was harsh and unfamiliar to her.
"I want to speak to Mrs. Meredith."
"Who is it?" asked Jean.
"It is a friend of hers," said the voice. "Will you tell her? Thebusiness is rather urgent."
"I'm sorry," said Jean, "but she's just gone out."
She heard an exclamation of annoyance.
"Do you know where she's gone?" asked the voice.
"I think she's gone in to Monte Carlo," said Jean.
"If I miss her will you tell her not to go out again until I come to thehouse?"
"Certainly," said Jean politely, and hung up the telephone.
"Was that a call for me?"
It was Lydia's voice from the head of the stairs.
"Yes, dear. I think it was Marcus Stepney who wanted to speak to you. Itold him you'd gone out," said Jean. "You didn't wish to speak to him?"
"Good heavens, no!" said Lydia. "You're sure you won't come with me?"
"I'd rather stay here," said Jean truthfully.
The car was at the door, and Mordon, looking unusually spruce in hiswhite dust coat, stood by the open door.
"How long shall I be away?" asked Lydia.
"About two hours, dear, you'll be very hungry when you come back," saidJean, kissing her. "Now, mind you think of the right man," she warnedher in mockery.
"I wonder if I shall," said Lydia quietly.
Jean watched the car out of sight, then went back to the saloon. She washardly seated before the telephone rang again, and she anticipated Mrs.Cole-Mortimer, and answered it.
"Mrs. Meredith has not gone in to Monte Carlo," said the voice. "Her carhas not been seen on the road."
"Is that Mr. Jaggs?" asked Jean sweetly.
"Yes, miss," was the reply.
"Mrs. Meredith has come back now. I'm dreadfully sorry, I thought shehad gone into Monte Carlo. She's in her room with a bad headache. Willyou come and see her?"
There was an interval of silence.
"Yes, I will come," said Jaggs.
Twenty minutes later a taxicab set down the old man at the door, and amaid admitted him and brought him into the saloon.
Jean rose to meet him. She looked at the bowed figure of old Jaggs. Tookhim all in, from his iron-grey hair to his dusty shoes, and then shepointed to a chair.
"Sit down," she said, and old Jaggs obeyed. "You've something veryimportant to tell Mrs. Meredith, I suppose."
"I'll tell her that myself, miss," said the old man gruffly.
"Well, before you tell her anything, I want to make a confession," shesmiled down on old Jaggs, and pulled up a chair so that she faced him.
He was sitting with his back to the light, holding his battered hat onhis knees.
"I've really brought you up under false pretences," she said, "becauseMrs. Meredith isn't here at all."
"Not here?" he said, half rising.
"No, she's gone for a ride with our chauffeur. But I wanted to see you,Mr. Jaggs, because--" she paused. "I realise that you're a dear friendof hers and have her best interests at heart. I don't know who you are,"she said, shaking her head, "but I know, of course, that Mr. John Gloverhas employed you."
"What's all this about?" he asked gruffly. "What have you to tell me?"
"I don't know how to begin," she said, biting her lips. "It is such adelicate matter that I hate talking about it at all. But the attitude ofMrs. Meredith to our chauffeur Mordon, is distressing, and I think Mr.Glover should be told."
He did not speak and she went on.
"These things do happen, I know," she said, "but I am happy to say thatnothing of that sort has come into my experience, and, of course, Mordonis a good-looking man and she is young----"
"What are you talking about?" His tone was dictatorial and commanding.
"I mean," she said, "that I fear poor Lydia is in love with Mordon."
He sprang to his feet.
"It's a damned lie!" he said, and she stared at him. "Now tell me whathas happened to Lydia Meredith," he went on, "and let me tell you this,Jean Briggerland, that if one hair of that girl's head is harmed, I willfinish the work I began out there," he pointed to the garden, "andstrangle you with my own hands."
She lifted her eyes to his and dropped them again, and began totremble, then turning suddenly on her heel, she fled to her room, lockedthe door and stood against it, white and shaking. For the second time inher life Jean Briggerland was afraid.
She heard his quick footsteps in the passage outside, and there came atap on her door.
"Let me in," growled the man, and for a second she almost lost controlof herself. She looked wildly round the room for some way of escape, andthen as a thought struck her, she ran quickly into the bath-room, whichopened from her room. A large sponge was set to dry by an open window,and this she seized; on a shelf by the side of the bath was a big bottleof ammonia, and averting her face, she poured its contents upon thesponge until it was sodden, then with the dripping sponge in her hand,she crept back, turned the key and opened the door.
The old man burst in, then, before he realised what was happening, thesponge was pressed against his face. The pungent drug almost blindedhim, its paralysing fumes brought him on to his knees. He gripped herwrist and tried to press away her hand, but now her arm was round hisneck, and he could not get the purchase.
With a groan of agony he collapsed on the floor. In that instant she wason him like a cat, her knee between his shoulders.
Half unconscious he felt his hands drawn to his back, and felt somethinglashing them together. She was using the silk girdle which had beenabout her waist, and her work was effective.
Presently she turned him over on his back. The ammonia was still in hiseyes, and he could not open them. The agony was terrible, almostunendurable. With her hand under his arm he struggled to his feet. Hefelt her lead him somewhere, and suddenly he was pushed into a chair.She left him alone for a little while, but presently came back and beganto tie his feet together. It was a most amazing single-handedcapture--even Jean could never have imagined the ease with which shecould gain her victory.
"I'm sorry to hurt an old man." There was a sneer in her voice which hehad not heard before. "But if you promise not to shout, I will not gagyou."
He heard the sound of running water, and presently with a wet cloth shebegan wiping his eyes gently.
"You will be able to see in a minute," said Jean's cool voice. "In themeantime you'll stay here until I send for the police."
For all his pain he was forced to chuckle.
"Until you send for the police, eh? You know me?"
"I only know you're a wicked old man who broke into this house whilst Iwas alone and the servants were out," she said.
"You know why I've come?" he insisted. "I've come to tell Mrs. Merediththat a hundred thousand pounds have been taken from her bank on a forgedsignature."
"How absurd," said Jean. She was sitting on the edge of the bath lookingat the bedraggled figure. "How could anybody draw money from Mrs.Meredith's bank whilst her dear friend and guardian, Jack Glover, is inLondon to see that she is not robbed."
"Old Jaggs" glared up at her from his inflamed eyes.
"You know very well," he said distinctly, "that I am Jack Glover, andthat I have not left Monte Carlo since Lydia Meredith arrived."