arrest if I did not remain silent," she said,speaking aloud to herself, her eyes fixed upon the bare, cheerlessprospect before her. "I have told the truth, and already he has carriedout one of his threats. Perhaps he will carry out the other. Probablyhe will, and then--and then I shall lose my only friend! He may allege,too, that because `Red Mullet' is my friend, he is my lover! Ah! Iwonder what shameful scandal he has told Frank! I wonder! Oh! Why hasFrank not come to me for an explanation for proof of those abominablelies uttered by a man whom he knows as a blackguard and a thief. It iscruel!" she sobbed, "cruel--too cruel! Ah! Frank, my own Frank, I loveyou with all my heart--with all my soul! You are mine, mine!" shecried, raising her clenched hands to heaven in her frenzy of despair,"and yet I have lost you--lost my father's great secret--losteverything--_everything_!"
Her white lips moved, but no sound came from them. Her eyes wereclosed, her hands clenched tightly as there, with none to witness heragony of soul, she implored the protection of her Maker and the clemencyof Providence in that, the greatest trial of all her life.
She prayed in deep earnestness for assistance and strength to withstandthe evil machinations of her enemies.
With Frank's departure, the sun of her existence had set. The futurewas only grey and darkening, like the dismal, dispiriting scene thatspread before her.
Love and life were, alas, lost to her for ever.
Away over those leafless trees, eastward beyond Hyde Park and GrosvenorSquare, a curious scene was, at that moment, being enacted in the houseof her enemies.
Challas, stout and pompous, was standing with his back to the libraryfireplace, while in an armchair near, sat the white-bearded old GermanProfessor.
"You see from this `wire' from Jim, that all goes along beautifullyErich," the Baronet was saying. "He has engaged a Turk to purchase theland on both sides of the Mount, the price asked being a little bitstiff--eight thousand pounds for the lot. I `wired' him this morning toclose at the lowest price possible, and at the same time I've placed hima credit of ten thousand at the Ottoman Bank in Jerusalem."
"Then by this time the deal is closed," remarked the old German, rubbinghis thin hands in satisfaction. "Ah! I wonder how our friend Griffinnow feels?"
"Yes," laughed Sir Felix, "thanks to Jim we obtained the whole secretwithout the trouble of deciphering it. That was a smart move of his tocapture the little girl as he did."
"Yes," laughed the old man, "it seems that we're on the straight road tosuccess."
"The road!" echoed the great financier. "Why, by this time, I expectthe land is ours, and if so, I shall start myself on Saturday. I meanto keep my intentions `dark,' of course. The papers will say that I'vegone to Vienna, for if it were known that I'd gone to Jerusalem thereare men in the City who would be keeping a wary eye on me. They knowthat when Felix Challas goes abroad, it's generally to see some goodthing or other. That's the worst of this cursed popularity. The publiceye is upon one the whole time."
As he spoke, the old butler tapped at the door, and handed him anothertelegram, which he broke open eagerly.
"Ah!" he exclaimed after consulting a little note book which he tookfrom a drawer--the code which Jim always used. "Another from Jim! He'sclosing at seven thousand eight hundred, the deeds to be signedto-morrow. The story he has told is that the land is to be used forbuilding purposes."
"I suppose the surveyor you sent out with him has fixed the exact spot?"
"Of course. They did that four days ago. It was a difficult task toaccomplish without attracting attention, but Jim succeeded. He alwaysdoes!" added the Baronet with a grin.
"I understood that the Mount was nearly covered by the Jews' cemetery,"remarked the German.
"So it is. But the plots we want are fortunately rocky places, whereburial is impossible. I think it a big stroke of luck--don't you?" headded with a self-satisfied laugh.
"Certainly," was the German's response in his deep, guttural voice, "butwhat of Mullet? Have you heard anything of him lately?"
"Nothing. He's abroad somewhere. I believe Jim and he have quarrelled.I only hope they won't get to serious disagreement--if they do it willbe very unpleasant for us all. `Red Mullet' hasn't acted straight inthis affair at all. He fell in love with Griffin's girl, I think--andbecame heroic--like the chicken-hearted fool he is."
"You haven't any fear of him turning upon you, I suppose?"
"Fear of him!" laughed Sir Felix heartily.
"Why, my dear Erich, I could put him away for ten years, to-morrow, if Iwished, and fortunately he knows it. No. He'll keep a very stilltongue, never fear. He still draws his money from Paris, which showsthat he doesn't intend mischief."
"Ah! that's all right," declared the Hebrew scholar, greatly satisfied."I--well, I've always had suspicions that he meant to play intoGriffin's hands."
"So he did, undoubtedly, but Jim and I were rather too clever for him."
At that moment the elderly butler re-entered with a card upon thesalver.
Sir Felix took it and his face changed in an instant. His mouth wasopen, and for a second he seemed speechless.
"Not at home--not at home," he snapped to the man. "Never at home tothat person--you understand?"
"Yes, Sir Felix," replied the grave-faced servant, who bowed andwithdrew.
Erich Haupt noticed that the visitor, whoever it was, seemed a mostunwelcome one.
From the Baronet's subsequent movements the old German realised that hewished to get rid of him.
Therefore, he rose and departed, promising to call next day, and hearthe latest report of Jim Jannaway's progress in Jerusalem.
Then, the instant Erich had left the house, Sir Felix rang for hisvalet, a young Italian, giving him a note to take in a taxi-cab to hisoffice in the City and await a reply.
The man was gone an hour, during which time his master ascended to thegreat drawing-room, and advancing cautiously to the window, peered outinto the grey twilight of the square. He stood behind the curtains sothat any one watching the house from the outside could not observe him.From his nervous anxiety and restless movements it was apparent that hefeared his unwelcome visitor might still be watching outside.
As he peered through the crack between the heavy curtains of blue silkbrocade and the window sash, his eyes caught sight of a figure, and hesprang back breathless, his face white and drawn, as though he had seena ghost.
It was a ghost--a ghost of the past that had arises against him in thathour of his greatest triumph.
The young Italian returned, and handed him a bulky letter which heplaced in his pocket without opening. Then, having sent him forth witha note to the Ritz Hotel, a mere excuse, he ran up to his dressing-room,quickly exchanged his frock-coat and fancy vest for a suit of roughtweed, and putting on a bowler hat, returned to the library. Upon hisface was a haunted look of terror. The unexpected had happened.
From his safe he took a small sealed packet of folded papers which heopened and cast quickly into the fire, waiting in eager impatience untilall had been consumed. Then, unobserved, he slipped out by the back inthe evening gloom, hurrying down the mews, and through into Hill Street,where he hailed a hansom and drove quickly away.
For the ghost of the past was still watching, silent and hideous,against the railings of Berkeley Square.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT.
CONTAINS A SURPRISE.
That short February day was indeed an eventful one, both for the rivalinvestigators, and for the whole Hebrew race.
Almost at that same hour when Sir Felix Challas left his London mansionso hurriedly, and in such fear, "Red Mullet" was being conducted up along, wood-built, unpainted corridor where the uncarpeted floor was fullof holes and the broken windows were patched, to a small shabby littlereception-room--the waiting-room of the Sublime Porte, or GovernmentOffices at Constantinople.
A Turkish servant in a dingy red fez, handed him the usual formal cup ofblade coffee and cigarette, and he was left alone to await his audiencewith
the Grand Vizier of his Imperial Majesty, the Sultan.
It was not the first time in the course of his adventurous career thathe had had audience at the Sublime Porte. He knew the shabbiness andthe decay of that great shed-like building, its lack of order, itsseedy-looking officials, and its altogether incongruous appearance asthe centre of the administration of a great empire.
Smoking the cigarette, he stood gazing thoughtfully out upon the rubbishheap in the courtyard below. Beyond, lay Pera, and the blue Bosphorus.The room, with its bare walls, faded Oriental carpet, ricketywriting-table and few shabby chairs, was the apartment where theAmbassadors of the Powers awaited audience of the Grand Vizier, or ofhis Excellency, Tewfik Pasha, his