Chapter 4
Violet and Gerald Boynton hurried out of the hotel. Boynton was quite certain that neither Fanshawe nor his companion had noticed them. Violet's car was waiting, and they got into it and were driven rapidly away.
"Don't tell me anything yet," Violet said to her companion. "I want to think."
The talk she had just had with Boynton had deeply impressed her. She had definitely made up her mind to get to the bottom of the mystery of the mills. At first she had begun to make light of the whole affair, but it was not so now. What had decided her? Was it the earnestness of the capable and handsome young man who sat by her side in the fast Rolls Royce. She asked herself the question, but found no answer. As they circled the great curve of the Irwell, and Peel Park flashed behind, the face of the stranger who had preceded Fanshawe into the palm court was very vividly before her. Just before they turned into the Eccles Road she turned to Boynton.
"Don't think me rude, Mr. Boynton," she said, with a flashing smile, "but I wanted to arrange all the details in my mind. Now, what made you turn so pale when you saw that extraordinary-looking man with Mr. Fanshawe?"
"If it were known that that man was in Lancashire," Boynton answered, "the Midland Hotel could not hold the people who would crowd to catch a glimpse of him. Fortunately for him very few people indeed know what he is like. There are no portraits of him in existence."
Violet let him tell his story in his own way. "But you knew," was all she said.
"Yes," he replied; "I am just the one man in a million who chances to know. I am a Welshman by birth, Miss Milton. Our family estate is in North Wales and belongs to my elder brother. The man who was talking to Fanshawe is Carradoc David Pantydwr, the Earl of Llandrylas."
Violet tried an Americanism. "Some name, Mr. Boynton, as we should say in the States. If a name like that could fly, I guess it could catch birds."
Boynton laughed. It was the first time she had seen him laugh that morning. His face was transformed, the keenness went out of it and he looked like a happy boy.
"Admirable language, American," he said. "One thing I can see, Miss Milton, is that the name of Lord Llandrylas conveys nothing to you at all."
She shook her head. "I am afraid it doesn't. Is he a very important person?
"I should say," Boynton continued, "that Lord Llandrylas is the most extraordinary human being in the three kingdoms. He is certainly one of the most romantic figures in existence. I should have thought America would have been full of him and his story."
"I never read the papers much, I was too hard-worked when I was in New York," said Violet. "But you quite excite me. Explain."
"In as few words as I can. Lord Llandrylas is the premier earl of Wales. He is a nobleman of immense fortune and enormous estates. He claims, and I believe his claim is perfectly correct, to have descended from the Welsh king, Hywel Dda, who died about a hundred years before the Norman Conquest. It is even whispered -- though this is possibly an invention -- that he claims to be the rightful king of the Welsh."
"How very trying for his wife," said Violet.
"He is not married, Miss Milton. He is a recluse. He seldom, if ever, leaves his estates. It must have been a thing of the utmost importance to have brought him to Manchester today. He never goes to Court or moves in London society. He refuses to take any part in English affairs. It is an extraordinary instance of one of the greatest living noblemen burying himself in his great sombre medieval stronghold in the mountains of Wales, many of which are his property. He lives very like an eagle in its nest, and no one but a little circle of intimates ever sees him. He is guarded from all possible access, Miss Milton. I feel almost terrified when I think of that man talking to Peter Fanshawe in a Manchester hotel!"
Violet took his meaning. She was becoming singularly sympathetic to this young man's ideas. She realized, given the circumstances Boynton had outlined, that this appearance of the great feudal chief of Wales was significant indeed.
"He has a marvellous face," she said. "I have never seen a face quite like it. It is beautiful, but with a baleful beauty. The pride of the man shouts out like a trumpet, and yet he was talking quite confidentially to that abominable Mr. Fanshawe, with his oily manner and white teeth like a dog's! Isn't he a horrid man!"
Boynton said eagerly, "I am so glad you think so, Miss Milton. You will observe that I kept my own opinion on that point to myself."
He was speaking like a boy and Violet looked at him curiously. "I wonder," she said, "what it is that makes you perfectly ready to tell me the man is a villain and yet forbids you to call him a cad until I do."
Boynton flushed and shrugged his shoulders. "Oh, I don't know," he said a little awkwardly, "only one doesn't do it, Miss Milton."
She liked that immensely, but she did not show it. It was a new experience for her to probe and expose a young man's mind. It gave her a glorious sense of power and at the same time rather frightened her. The combination was delicious!
"About those two being together," Boynton said, "you have certainly put your finger upon the crux of the matter. I am as certain as possible that nothing but an extraordinary occasion would ever make Lord Llandrylas confidential to a man like Peter Fanshawe. I believe that Providence, or chance, has plunged us into the very heart of the mystery this morning."
"Tell me some more about this strange Welsh peer."
"There is so very little known about him, Miss Milton, though there are a thousand rumours and stories. Lord Llandrylas is deeply imbued with ancient Druidic law and is said to possess many Druid secrets. I believe it is true that he is the finest harpist in Wales."
They were silent for a mile or two.
"What about the tug?" Violet said suddenly.
Boynton looked at his watch. "We will be back in Liverpool in a few minutes. There is plenty of time to charter a fast tug; in fact, I know of one, the Sea Gull. Her skipper is an old friend of mine, which simplifies things."
"I am more than ever looking forward to it," Violet said. "Don't you think we might take Winterbotham?"
"By all means. We cannot have a better man. But you are determined on going, Miss Milton?"
"Quite determined, Mr. Boynton. I lived for many years in America, where girls have much more freedom than here, and no one thinks anything about it. And then again, since I am going to take over the direction of the mills, this is a matter which touches me very nearly, and I have a perfect right to investigate for myself. Thirdly, I know that I can trust you, Mr. Boynton, and also trust my late uncle's foreman. No one will know anything about the affair. Nobody has come to call on me yet. It was only this morning that I saw the news of my arrival in Liverpool in the papers."
Boynton bowed and said no more. He had felt bound to make his protest in the first instance. Now that it was done his conscience was at ease. He began to feel a quickening of all his pulses, a warm glow stole about his heart. She was going with him, then! They were partners in this mysterious enterprise. He would be with her many hours still.
Her voice recalled him from his reverie, and he blushed a little as he turned to her.
"Now as to the final arrangements, Mr. Boynton."
"You had better drop me at St. George's Hall, Miss Milton," he answered, pulling himself together and becoming once more the quick and resolute man of affairs. "It will take me from two to three hours to engage the tug. Then I will come back to the works and communicate with you. I don't think Fanshawe will appear again until this evening. But to make the assurance doubly sure, something which I had forgotten has just occurred to me. There will be no need for me to come to your house at all. Every part of the works is connected by telephone with a central exchange. There is an instrument on the writing table in Sir William's study."
"I have seen it," Violet answered. "That is very convenient. As you say, Fanshawe must not see you come into the house. I quite realize the necessity for that."
"And one other point. The girl at the telephone exchange is an excellent cr
eature, but" -- he laughed -- "well, being the first time anyone has been switched on to you, it might be too much for her curiosity. Do you speak French?"
"Very fairly, Mr. Boynton."
"So do I, and I will communicate with you in that language and refer to a certain gentleman simply as 'Notre Ami.' Now about the tug. One thing is quite certain, the unknown yacht will not come to the quay until one or two o'clock in the morning. However, we must be on board the tug a couple of hours before then. I will see Winterbotham. He can come to your house about ten. Sir William's motorboat, a fast and powerful little vessel, is in the boathouse at the end of your garden terrace. Winterbotham is a capable mechanic. He will take you out to the tug, which will be lying a mile or so up the river. I will be on board and we will then await events. We will have to take Captain Harrop into our confidence to a certain extent, for it is essential that the yacht does not know that she is being followed. But, still, I know Captain Harrop very well. He is a skilful seaman, and, between you and me, I have known him employed on more than one little confidential affair quite unconnected with his usual duties as a tug master. We could not have a better man for our purpose. He is a thorough rascal; in short, he will do anything for money. But, at the same time, he has two great merits: he is extremely cunning and quite fearless, while he is absolutely faithful to his employer for the time being. Of course he will have to be highly paid."
"That all seems excellent," Violet said, "and here we are. Thank you a thousand times for all you have done and are going to do."
Boynton lifted his hat and jumped out of the car. She saw him disappear in the direction of the landing stage and asked her chauffeur to drive her home to the mills, her brain in a whirl of excitement and adventure.
There was Mrs. Herbert Wilkins to be considered, and that problem presented some slight difficulties. Violet asked herself if by any human possibility she could manage to bundle that ease-loving old lady on board a Liverpool tug at midnight en route to an unknown destination.
"It would be as easy to add four pounds of butter to four o'clock," she concluded, and her manner was especially kind and affectionate as she entered the drawing room and found Mrs. Herbert Wilkins presiding over China tea and muffins.
"What a wonderful thing business is!" said Mrs. Wilkins. "I spent such a pleasant morning, my dear. It seems that your arrival in Liverpool to take up your -- er -- vast responsibilities as head of the mills is already widely known. The people at the principal shops were most anxious to do everything they could. It was so refreshing!"
"I believe they are very obliging in the North," said Violet.
"Money talks, my dear," said Mrs. Wilkins. "When I was companion to Lady Griffin -- she was an earl's daughter, unmarried and rather weak-minded -- her high rank never brought me such consideration as I have enjoyed this morning. But then, poor thing," Mrs. Wilkins said compassionately, "her income was under two thousand a year."
Violet saw her chance. "Business is everything nowadays," she replied, "and I am just going away for a day or two on business connected with the mills. One cannot have too much money, can one?"
This was a sentiment with which the old lady thoroughly agreed, but her assent was tempered with reluctance. "Do you think it wise, my dear, that we should leave so soon, just as we are settling in so comfortably? As you gave me a free hand, I have ordered quite a lot of things for the house, and they will come directly. There is a beautifully padded chair, the back of which can be adjusted to any angle, and only twenty guineas! I thought it would rest you after your activities."
"How charming of you, Mrs. Wilkins. But I shall go alone. I could not think of asking you to come with me, as the matter is purely one of business and would not interest you in the least."
"You are most considerate, my dear. Are you sure you can do without me?"
"Oh, quite, quite sure," said Violet, relieved the matter was settled so easily. "It is connected with some of my shipping interests, so I shall probably leave here tonight in the motorboat to go on board one of our vessels. Of course I shall be accompanied by responsible members of the firm."
"Much wiser," said Mrs. Wilkins, wagging her head, "much, much wiser. You have an old head upon young shoulders, my dear. Is not this walnut cake delicious?"
Smiling at the easy acquiescence of the lazy old creature, Violet left the drawing room and went into the library. A large fire was burning there and she sank down into a padded leather chair. Then she thought of the telephone and looked at the writing table. It was there, a little gleaming instrument of silver plate and vulcanite, but she noticed something else. There was a letter in a large envelope upon the blotting pad. She went to the table and took it up. It was addressed to herself in large, firm handwriting, which she did not know, and it bore no stamp. The words "By Hand" were written in one corner.
Taking up a paperknife, she opened it. It bore the heading, "The Milton Paper Mills," and ran as follows:
Dear Madam,
I am writing to place my resignation from the post of Director of the Milton Paper Mills in your hands. By the terms of my agreement with the late Sir William Milton, in the event of my dismissal, I was to receive six months' notice, or fifteen hundred pounds, half of my yearly salary -- independent, of course, of such royalties of my various patents in connection with the business earned for me. If I myself desired to terminate the agreement, the same rules apply. A copy of the agreement is in the hands of Mr. Hallet, the solicitor, to whom I have sent a cheque for fifteen hundred pounds today.
I am sorry to terminate a long and successful connection with the business which has now passed into your hands. I beg to say that your determination to take up the reins of government has had nothing to do with my decision. Tomorrow I beg the honour of an interview, in which I may, perhaps, be of assistance to you in suggesting plans for the future conduct of the mills.
I may say I am leaving almost immediately for the United States of America, where I intend starting business on my own account. I have sent a similar letter to Mr. Hallet.
Believe me, dear madam, yours most faithfully,
Peter Fanshawe.
The letter dropped upon the table. Violet stared at it in amazement. What did this mean? How did it affect the enterprise in which she was engaged? She rang the bell and the butler answered it.
"When did this letter come, Jelf?" she asked.
"About lunchtime, miss," the man answered. "It came by hand. It was brought by one of the clerks from Mr. Fanshawe's office to await your return."
When the man had gone Violet began to walk up and down the room. She could think better so. Fanshawe the enemy, Fanshawe the villain, was suddenly removing himself from their path!
"I must get this right. I must focus this properly," she said aloud, as she bent all her swift intelligence to the problem.
Bit by bit one or two things emerged clearly. First, Fanshawe's secret business in the Experiment House was done and finished with. Secondly, his pecuniary embarrassments must surely be now a thing of the past. His manner of going was quite open. He had paid a forfeit of fifteen hundred pounds -- a thing which no ruined man on the point of flight would ever do. The mysterious activities of the Experiment House would cease. Tonight the private yacht would visit the wharf on a final trip. As far as the Milton Paper Mills were concerned, the whole thing was at an end.
For a moment she heaved a sigh of relief but then she shook her head vigorously. She thought of all that Boynton had hinted. No, she had promised an investigation, and she would stand by her promise. It might be -- time would show -- that all this was only the starting point of something much more important. Gerald Boynton had been certain of it, and she knew that his intelligence was not one lightly to disregard. Indeed, as she continued her promenade up and down the room, the sense of excitement was quickened to an almost unbearable pitch. She had focused the thing at last! Surely Fanshawe's strange resignation was only another significant indication that things were far from well. The affai
r had begun in her own works. She would see it through.
After an hour she went upstairs and packed two travelling bags with all she thought she might require for an absence of two or three days. Then she went back to the library and waited eagerly for the whir of the telephone bell. At last it came, just as she was dozing off to sleep, and she leapt up from her chair and ran to the table.
"Hello!"
"Qui va la?" It was Gerald Boynton's voice, and he was speaking in French as he promised. "It is all right about the tug. I had a long talk with Captain Harrop. He wants two hundred pounds to put himself at our disposal for four days. I have agreed to that. Was I right?"
"Perfectly right."
"Thank you," Boynton continued in French. "Our plans are somewhat altered. Captain Harrop tells me that there will be plenty of time to follow the yacht if we join the tug after the yacht has been to the wharf and taken its cargo on board. He proposes that I should wait in hiding as before -- on the roof of the Experiment House -- and actually watch the packing case shipped on board the yacht. This will make things certain, and I think it is an excellent suggestion."
"So do I. And what afterwards?"
"Instead of lying a mile up the river as he proposed, Harrop will wait with the tug hugging the other shore, almost abreast of the works. Directly the boat moves off I shall hurry to you with Winterbotham, get out the motorboat and we will join the tug. It will only be a matter of a quarter of an hour or so until we get aboard. Harrop will then follow the yacht at a considerable distance. He knows exactly what to do and the best method to avoid the people on board the yacht thinking they are being tracked."
"Well, I will be in readiness whenever you come. I have something to tell you of the utmost importance." And Violet read Fanshawe's letter into the telephone receiver, translating it into French as she did so. She heard a long low whistle in answer.
"What do you think?" she asked.
"I think that this is the last opportunity we shall ever have of discovering the truth."
"Exactly what I thought. This action of "notre ami" hastens matters very considerably."
"I am glad you see that. Our friend is eliminated from the game -- or as far as we know he is. The whole thing, of course, may be a blind. But the mystery itself grows far more interesting and subtle than before. If we assume that our friend's work is done and he is going to the United States to start work for himself, we must also assume that he has been paid an enormous sum of money for what he has done. But I have much to do yet. We will talk it all over tonight. Good-bye.
"Good-bye."
"He is wonderful," Violet thought to herself with a little thrill. "He sees things exactly as they are." All the sporting instincts within her awoke, and a strange sense of exhilaration and happiness possessed her.
At ten o'clock she sent the whole household to bed. At eleven she brought down her bags to the veranda. At twelve she ate a light supper. Precisely as the clock in the library chimed half-past one she heard the ring of an electric bell, and knew that Boynton and Winterbotham were waiting at the door in the wall. She hurried through the sunken garden and opened the door. The two men, in heavy overcoats and caps, each of them carrying a bag, stood outside in the yard.
"It's all right," Boynton whispered. "The yacht came quietly up at one, and in a quarter of an hour the men had wheeled the trolley out of the Experiment House down to the quay. The yacht had a winch and tackle rig at the yard, and the case was got on board by the donkey engine in five minutes. She is now just moving away. It is a significant fact that the men in the Experiment House are all aboard her."
"And Mr. Fanshawe?" Violet asked, as they went through the house on the way to the veranda.
"I could not see him anywhere, but I am almost certain he was not with them. I know his figure very well, and none of the little party round the trolley resembled him."
They came out upon the veranda, and Winterbotham hurried to the end of the terrace, where stood the boathouse. Violet and Boynton were left alone.
"The plot thickens," Boynton said in a grave voice. "I can tell you I do not like the look of things at all, Miss Milton. I have not been wasting my time, either, this afternoon. Are you still resolved to go with us?"
"I am quite resolved, Mr. Boynton."
"Very well, then. I see the boat is coming out. Let us go."
He took up her two bags, carrying them as well as his own with the greatest ease, and they went out into the night, Violet closing the glass doors behind her. As they crossed the terrace towards the low wall and the dark, lapping water below, Violet felt a momentary chill. She looked round at the discreet and comfortable house behind her and then into the void beyond.
She was starting out with two unknown men upon an unknown mission, stealing from her house like a thief at the dead of night, to be tossed in a little boat upon a vast and heaving estuary. And then she would steam onboard a tug into the dark night over the dark sea in pursuit of a mystery darker than they. Would it not be better, after all, to stop before it was too late? Would she not rejoice at her wisdom in the morning when she saw the sun again in innocence and safety?
For a moment she hesitated, but only for a moment. She looked up at Boynton, walking by her side, and her courage came back to her in a flash.
Winterbotham had brought the motorboat to the steps, where he steadied it with a boathook. He took the bags, which Boynton handed to him, and then Violet stepped lightly on the gunwale and sat down in the stern. Boynton followed her and took the helm, while Winterbotham busied himself with the engines amidships. A shove of the boathook sent them gliding out into the creek. There was a crack, a series of small explosions, followed by a louder one, and then the powerful engines sank into a steady hum. The propeller began to revolve, a white wake spread out behind them and the wall of the terrace and the house above seemed to be gliding away.
In a minute they had passed out of the creek and were on the tossing waters of the river. The acetylene lamp in the bows spread a fan of light before them. The night was almost windless and the sky spangled with stars, though the moon was not visible. There were twinkling lights of different colours everywhere. The immense arc of star-spangled sky, the black water through which they raced, so that the white plumes of spray rose on each side of the bows were strangely beautiful and uplifting.
Violet turned to Boynton. "'The sea moans round with many voices,'" she quoted.
And he answered her again in Tennyson's words: "'To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield!'"
Just then there was a soft thud and the boat swerved off her course.
"What's that?" Boynton cried sharply.
Winterbotham was at the engines in a moment. "We have hit something," he said, as they sank to half speed. "It's astern of us now -- something large and black. I can see it. Put your helm hard to the starboard, Mister Boynton. We must go back and get a look at it."
The boat went slowly round in a half circle, as Winterbotham unshipped the lamp at the bows and came back amidships. He held the lamp high in one hand and grasped a boathook in the other. "It's a body!" he cried.
"Don't look, Miss Milton," Boynton said quickly. He had seen bodies found in the river before.
But he was too late -- Violet had seen.
The body of a man was floating on the water and the light fell full upon it. The eyes were wide open and there was a flash of strong white teeth.
The face was the face of Peter Fanshawe!