CHAPTER XII
A PRODIGAL SON
Loth as he might have been inclined to admit it, Dr. Varney was by nomeans ill-pleased with his share of the adventure. He felt that a manlike himself, who knew everything, would be decidedly useful. And howmuch he really did know Jessie would have been startled to know. Forhere was a man who had a great practice amongst politicians, andstatesmen especially. He walked quietly back to the house now andentered the salon as if looking for somebody. His shrewd face was graveand thoughtful. He found his man at last--a tall, grizzled man, who boresome kind of likeness to a greyhound. He was in a measure a greyhound,for he had been a queen's messenger for many years.
"I thought I should find you about somewhere," the doctor said. "I wanta few words with you, Lechmere. Let us go into the garden and smoke acigarette."
"Always delighted to chat with you, Varney," Lechmere said. "Come along.Now, what is it?"
"_Re_ the Countess Saens," Varney said. "You know the woman I mean?"
"Certainly I do. Lives in a big house in Connaught Crescent. Not her ownhouse, by the way. Dresses magnificently, gives wonderful parties, andalways has the last new thing. Handsome woman, too, and goes everywhere.But nobody knows anything about her."
"I came to you for a little information on the point, Lechmere."
"Well, as a matter of fact I can give it to you, Varney. There are veryfew of the foreign colony in London whose history I haven't ready fordocketing. Many a useful hint have I given the Foreign Office andScotland Yard. Ever hear of Saul Marx, the famous cosmopolitan spy--Imean the man who saved that war between France and Germany?"
"Of course I have heard of Marx. Who hasn't? But what has that to dowith the business?"
"Well, he told me all about the charming countess. She began life inWarsaw in a company of strolling players. Afterwards she married one ofthe most noted scamps in Paris, who wanted a pretty wife as a pawn insome game of his. The fellow ill-treated her horribly, but he taught hereverything in the way of the predatory life that was to be learnt.Finally, the husband died under very strange circumstances, and betweenourselves, Marx says that the woman murdered him. After that shenarrowly escaped a long term of imprisonment over the Malcolm-Sindiamond business, and then for a long time nothing was heard of her tillshe turned up as Vera Olpheut, the famous anarchist speaker. She wasexpelled from Russia, which was all a blind, seeing that she is one ofthe cleverest spies that the Russian police ever employed. Her ladyshipis after a very big game now, or she would not be spending all thatmoney. An adventuress like that never pays her tradesmen as a rule, butI know for a fact that the household bills are discharged regularlyevery week."
"You are quite sure of those facts?" Varney asked.
"My dear fellow, you can take them as gospel. Marx never makes amistake. Why do you ask?"
"I am merely a seeker after information. I may be in the way of puttinga spoke in the lady's wheel a little later on, perhaps. Have you heardof that business at the Foreign Office?"
"I heard of it just now; in fact, I looked in here to see if Merehavencould tell me anything about it. How those newspapers get hold of thesethings puzzles me. But I don't suppose it is true that poor old DickLancing committed suicide at his club, and----"
"It's perfectly true, Lechmere. I was in the club directly after, and Ifollowed on to Charing Cross Hospital, only to find that I was too late.What you say about the newspapers is absolutely correct. But, unless Iam greatly mistaken, the newspaper containing the startling report inquestion will help me over this matter. I am going to make a proposal toLord Merehaven."
"I've been trying to get at him. But the Austrian Ambassador has heldhim fast for the last hour."
"Well, there is plenty of time," Varney went on. "From what I canunderstand papers of the utmost importance have been stolen from theForeign Office, or they have been sold by some official to the foe. Onthe face of it, the charge points to poor Lancing; but one never cantell. Those papers relate to a kind of understanding with Asturia, andif Russia gets to know all about it then we are done. Now, let me tellyou a little thing that happened to-night. There was a burglary atCountess Saens' house, and the thief took nothing but papers. The thiefwas a woman, who obviously went to the countess' for the very purposeof obtaining possession of those papers. Now, it is only a theory ofmine, but I feel pretty sure that the papers have to do with the ForeignOffice scandal. If we get to the bottom of it, we shall find that thecountess inspired the paragraph that the _Evening Mercury_ had to-night.Do you happen to know anything about the editor of that sheet?"
"Fellow named Hunt, an American," Lechmere replied. "As a matter offact, the _Mercury_ is an American paper, the first start of an attemptto capture the English Press. You know how those fellows boast. I've metHunt several times in society."
"Did you ever happen to meet him at Countess Saens' house?" Varneyasked.
Lechmere turned over the question before he replied. On consideration hehad seen Hunt twice at the house in question. Not that that was verymaterial, because all sorts and conditions of men flocked to thecountess' evening parties. But Varney thought otherwise.
"At any rate, the fact fits in well with my theory," he said. "I shallbe greatly surprised if we fail to find a connection between thecountess and that sensational story in to-night's _Mercury_. I shallmake it my business to meet this man Hunt. Well, what is the matter?" Abreathless footman stood before Varney, and stammered out something tothe effect that Lord Merehaven had sent him here hot-foot in search ofthe doctor. A gentleman had been taken suddenly ill. The rest of theguests did not know anything about it, and the gentleman in question layin a state of collapse in his lordship's study. Would Dr. Varney comeat once. Varney was on his way to the house before the footman hadfinished his halting explanation.
The study door was locked, but it was opened immediately on Varneywhispering his name. In a big armchair a white-haired man in eveningdress was lying back in a state of collapse. By his side stood LordMerehaven, looking anxious and bewildered, whilst Ronald Hope was tryingto force a little brandy between the lips of the unconscious figure inthe chair.
"_Ronald Hope was trying to force a little brandy betweenthe lips._"]
"Thank goodness you have come, Varney!" Lord Merehaven said shakily."It's poor old Reggie Lancing. He simply walked into here dragging onHope's arm, and collapsed. He said something to the effect that his boyhad committed suicide, and some rubbish about missing papers. What doesit mean?"
Varney was too busy to answer the question. He removed Sir Reginald'scollar and turned down the neckband. Meanwhile the patient was breathingheavily.
"Put him flat on the floor," Varney said. "It's not quite so bad as itlooks. A seizure from over-excitement, or something of that kind. Giveme a pen and ink and paper."
Varney hastily scribbled some formula on a sheet of note paper, anddirected that it should be taken to a chemist and be made up at once.Till he could administer the drug he could do nothing. There was a waitof half an hour before the footman returned. Then the drug was coaxedbetween the stricken man's teeth, and presently he opened his eyes oncemore. He was terribly white and shaky, and he seemed to have somedifficulty in getting out his words.
"It's the disgrace, Merehaven," he said--"the dreadful disgrace. Tothink that a son of mine could have been guilty of such a thing! I wouldnot have believed it; it came to me quite as a shock--that paragraph inthe late _Mercury_. I went to look for my son at once, but he had paidthe penalty already. He had shot himself, Merehaven--shot himself--shothimself."
The old man repeated the last words again and again in a feeble kind ofway. Lord Merehaven was sympathetic enough, but utterly puzzled. Helooked at the other and shrugged his shoulders.
"Is this a mere delusion?" he asked. "You don't mean to say that Asturiabusiness----"
The speaker paused, conscious that he was perhaps saying too much.Varney hastened to explain, to Merehaven's horror and astonishment.Positively, this was the first that he had
heard of it. And if CaptainLancing had shot himself that was proof positive.
"Good heavens! what a terrible business altogether!" Lord Merehavencried. "And the mischief that may have been done here! I must see theKing of Asturia at once, late as it is, though goodness knows where I amto look, seeing that the king is----"
The speaker paused, and Ronald Hope took up the thread of theconversation.
"It may be possible, my lord," he said, "that his majesty is nearer athand than you suppose."