Wilfrid was free for the present. The words kept rising to his mind ashe made his way back to Maldon Grange. He could turn his attention nowto the mystery which surrounded that strange household. He wonderedwhat had become of Uzali and Russell and why he had not heard fromeither of them. He did not suppose that they had been idle in London.He would not have been surprised had either turned up. His chief concernwas with Beatrice. It was good to know that she was likely to have acheerful home over her head for a few days longer. It was like anintervention of Providence that he had happened upon those scraps ofpaper in the wood. And what was going to be the next act in the drama?Events had been proceeding fast lately. The situation was full ofdarkness and terror, but the real tragedy was as vague and intangible asever. Two attempts had been made on the life of Samuel Flower withoutthe slightest clue to the miscreants, and in his heart of hearts Wilfriddid not believe that further attack would be abandoned.
Was it wise, he wondered, for Flower to return to Maldon Grange?Surely, the ship-owner would have been safer in London than in that vastand solitary mansion. Those mysterious men were likely to come back atany moment, and perhaps the third time would recoup them for all theirtrouble.
Wilfrid was still turning these things over in his mind as he crossedthe fields towards the Grange. The spot was lonely, for few people wentthat way, and Wilfrid gave a side glance of curiosity as he passed astranger who was carrying a small Gladstone bag in his hand. Thestranger was short and enormously stout, and his eyes twinkled behindlarge silver-rimmed spectacles. He was evidently a foreigner, animpression which was confirmed when the stranger took off his hat with aflourish.
"You will pardon me," he said, "but I am afraid that I have lost my way.Can you direct me to Maldon Grange?"
"I am going that way," Wilfrid explained. "As a matter of fact, that ismy destination. If you have any business there----"
"Not at all," the stranger hastened to say. "Maldon Grange is only thelandmark which they gave me in the village. I am going to a farmhouse alittle way beyond to look at a picture for a client of mine. That is myoccupation--an expert in oil-paintings. Perhaps you know the name ofthe farm. It is called 'Giletto'----"
"There is such a place," Wilfrid said. "I know where you want to go.From the field in front of Maldon Grange one can see the house. You hadbetter come with me."
But the self-possessed stranger evinced all at once a desire for his ownsociety. He had been loquacious at first, but now he touched the brimof his hat and hung behind as if he held himself unworthy of histemporary companion. There was something about his looks which by nomeans prejudiced Wilfrid in his favour, and he was full enough ofsuspicions now. The events of the past two or three days had taught himto regard even the passing shadow as possibly sinister.
"Oh, but you must not lose your way again," he said. "Come with me andI will see that you take the right path. I suppose you are a stranger."
"I have never been here before," the fat man said with unnecessaryenergy. "This part of the country is unknown to me. So that is MaldonGrange? I recognize the dormer window which----"
The stranger paused and muttered something in confusion. Then heimmediately proceeded to descant on the beauty of the landscape. Therewas nothing about the man to suggest criminal intent, but Wilfriddisliked him more and more. Beyond all doubt he was no stranger in thisquarter. As Wilfrid turned down one field-path to another, the manturned with him without hesitation and by the time they had emerged intothe fields in front of Maldon Grange, Mercer was satisfied that thestranger knew his way about better than he did himself.
"I am going to stop here," he said. "If you will follow that laureltrack you will come to a gate leading to the road, and a few hundredyards farther down is the farm you speak of."
The stranger was profuse in his thanks. Once more he raised his hatwith a flourish and went rapidly down the laurel path. After a moment'shesitation Wilfrid turned on his heel and followed. He knew the pathtwisted and wound along the edge of the plantation. He had only to makea detour and then, by looking through the bushes, he could see what thestranger was after. Cautiously making his way along, by and by he peepedthrough the bushes and saw the stranger nearly opposite him with a broadsmile on his face and a look of amusement in his eyes. Face to facewith the intruder was Cotter. The latter's features had acquired a dullgreen hue and his jaw dropped. He was a picture of abject terror.
"Ah, so you had not expected me," the stranger said. "You thought youwere done with me. That was a mistake. When Dr. Jansen makes up hismind to a thing he is not easily discouraged. I have been waiting yearsfor the right time and it has come at last. But you need not be afraid.Come, what have you to fear? Believe me, yonder ship is sinking. Oh,it is a magnificent vessel, and the owner is a fortunate man, but shewill founder all the same. It may go down this very night. Come,friend Cotter, am I not speaking the truth?"
The last few words came with a muttered ferocity which contrasted grimlywith Jansen's previously jocular humour. Cotter made no reply. Hestood rubbing his hands together as if the palms were wet and he couldfind no way to dry them.
"It may be now," Jansen went on. "It may have happened for all you knowto the contrary since you left the house. A clever man like you makesfew blunders. The only mistake you have ever made was to think youcould escape the vengeance and had seen the last of me. And what have Icome for, friend Cotter? I have come to see the end and you know it aswell as I do."
"What are you talking about?" Cotter stammered.
"Oh, you know--perfectly well," Jansen sneered. "Take my advice. Leavethe sinking ship and throw in your lot with me. But make no error; keepnothing from me, for I know everything. Strange that with yourknowledge of the world you should cling to Samuel Flower when his lifeis not worth an hour's purchase. Think it over, my good Cotter. I amnot coming to Maldon Grange but I will not be far away. I find thecountry good for my health and have rooms at that farmhouse down theroad. It may be that I shall do nothing for a fortnight. It may bethat I shall strike at once. It is for you to say whether you will beon the winning side or not. But I waste my time with you. Why should Iworry over a creature like you? You are not worth it."
Jansen turned away with a contemptuous gesture and picked up hisportmanteau. Without another word he trudged sturdily along the pathuntil he was lost to sight. Cotter watched him till the stout figuredisappeared. Then he took his handkerchief from his pocket and wipedhis face.
"Good Lord!" he muttered. "Fancy seeing him again! And Ithought--goodness knows what I thought. This is no place for me. I'llget away while I can."
Wilfrid stole back to the path and walked towards the house. He hadplenty of food for thought and the more he gave his mind to the strangeaffair the more bewildered he became. One thing was clear. He could notsee this plot through to a finish single-handed. He must get into touchwith Uzali and Russell. He must induce them to come down andinvestigate matters on the spot. For the present, however, he wouldkeep his discovery to himself. He would not alarm Beatrice.
The house was perfectly peaceful. There was silence in the sick-room.The nurse was of opinion that his patient was progressing favourably.Dr. Shelton had called in Wilfrid's absence and had left, not displeasedwith the case. Wilfrid could but wait and hope for the best. It was aconsolation to know that Beatrice was there and that no one could comebetween them and their friendship. Beatrice listened gravely to theresult of Wilfrid's interview with Vardon.
"Do you think you have acted for the best?" she said. "I am sorry Imisjudged you, Wilfrid. I might have known you would do the right thingin any case."